Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Roy stared at the General with his rook halfway down to the board. He schooled his features quickly, the surprise melting into careful interest. Inside his hackles raised, he was instantly defensive, resistant to change. “Oh?” For just a second his careful mask had slipped but Gruman was busy examining the chess board and didn’t notice the hesitation in his subordinate’s movement.

“Yes, I believe it will be a good addition to your team,” the man went on as if he hadn’t thrown a wrench into years of Roy’s careful machinations. He’d handpicked the men and women who worked under him carefully and for a reason. They worked like a well-oiled machine. He trusted them. With his life.

He plastered a charming smile on his face while he simmered inside no no no no! and played his next move on the board. “With all due respect, Sir, we already have a State Alchemist in my unit.”

General Gruman raised a crooked old finger as if he was scolding the Colonel. “This one is special. You wouldn’t believe how many units want to sink their claws into him.”

Let them. “So why me?” he asked curiously, pleasant.

The old man’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “He’s an incredibly skilled alchemist but he’s young, inexperienced.” The man moved his bishop to the left and took one of Roy’s pieces. Roy had stopped paying attention to the chess game three moves ago. “A diamond in the rough, if you will.” The genial smile slipped a fraction as the General pinned Roy with a serious glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with such a valuable asset.”

An incredible weapon to be honed into a monster by one of Amestris’ worst monsters. Got it.

Roy couldn’t stop the grimace this time. “I’m hardly a role model, Sir.”

“Nonsense!” General Gruman shot back. “You’re an upstanding member of the service, Roy. Don’t sell yourself short!”

Roy schooled his features again and carried on with the light chatter. “Have you met him?”

“Only once, at a formal function last year. The boy lights up a room like a firecracker!” The man laughed quietly to himself. The knot of apprehension in Roy’s gut tightened. “His name is Edward,” General Grumen went on. “He’s a good kid but he’s….very green. Reckless. Has a knack for getting himself in trouble.”

Roy Mustang’s team was a well-oiled machine and he did not need a loose cannon in the mix. Especially a young punk fresh out of the academy, State Alchemist be damned.

“He actually reminds me of you when you were younger!”

Roy gave the older man a pained expression. “You’re not exactly selling him, Sir.”

Gruman grinned at him, his eyes sharp as ever. “What he needs is guidance. Someone with a level head and a moral compass.” Roy balked at the idea that he of all people was considered a moral compass but he didn’t interrupt the General’s delirium. “We both know what this military can do to new recruits; Especially State Alchemists.”

That, Roy did understand. State Alchemists have been used as human weapons. He had been used as a human weapon. He focused on the board with a slight frown on his face. The knot in his gut tightened further.

“Roy,” General Gruman waited until Roy looked up and looked him in the eyes. “I trust you with this,” he said gravely. Roy heard all the words that were not said in that statement.

I don’t trust anyone else with this.

“I understand, Sir,” he said, feeling that knot move up to wrap itself around his throat.

“So,” he played his next move on the board as he cleared his throat trying to get rid of the sudden tightness. He moved back to safer grounds, light chatter. “How young?” The kid had already certified as a State Alchemist, so surely not too fresh out of the academy. Right??

“Thirteen”

Roy choked on his spit, his chess move forgotten.

“Pardon me!??”

Gruman did not look up.

“He’s thirteen.”

Roy stared at him dumbstruck.

What. The. Fuck.

The silence stretched on and Roy placed his token at a random spot on the board, strategy completely thrown out the window at this point. The General grinned at the move.

“Check!” he declared. The General looked at his watch and rose from his seat without waiting for Roy to make his move. “Time’s up, my boy. Got to go! I’ll send you his personnel file.”

He clapped Roy on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Good luck, Roy.”

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Colonel Roy Mustang flipped open the file folder on his desk and stared at the photograph. The scowling face stared back at him, defiant. And so young he still had traces of baby fat around his cheeks.

He closed the folder, pushed his chair away from his desk with a deliberate and slow motion and walked over to stand by the window. He stared out at the yard for a long time, arms folded behind his back, feet planted shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent out of habit.

When he thought he was ready, Roy took a deep breath and sat back at his desk, opening the folder again.

OFFICIAL MILITARY PERSONNEL FILE

Name:     Edward Elric              

Rank:      Alchemist of the State             

Alias:      FULLMETAL

Class:     Research Grade

Field:   

• Primary:   REDACTED: CLASSIFIED,                
• Secondary: Earth, Pure Metals & Alloys

Sex:           Male      

Hair:          Blond     

Eyes:          Gold

Ethnicity:     Amestrian/?

D.O.B.:       3 February 1899

Personal History (Summary)

P.O.B:         Resembool, East District

Father:       Unregistered        

Mother:      Trisha Elric (Deceased)

Legal Guardian:      Emancipated         

Next of Kin:    Alphonse Elric, (brother)

Medical History (Summary):

•  Loss of limb, right arm at shoulder joint.
•  Loss of limb, left leg at mid-femur.

Notes: Successful automail surgery for both missing limbs. Full Model H-3000J2K prosthesis

.Automail Technician/Surgeon: Dr. P. Fenton

Education/Training (Summary):

Primary Level 4 (incomplete)

State Alchemist Certification.

Criminal Record (Summary):

• Uttering Threats: 34 counts
• Destruction of Property: 24 counts
• Disturbing the Peace: 23 counts
• Insubordination: 18 counts
• Trespassing: 16 counts
• Disorderly Conduct: 15 counts
• Mischief: 9 counts
• Resist Arrest: 3 counts
• Arson: 2 counts
• Petty Theft: 1 count
• Horse Theft: 1 count
• Assault on an Officer: 1 count
• High Treason: 1 count
• Violation of Special Conditions: REDACTED: CLASSIFIED, 1 count
• REDACTED: CLASSIFIED, 1 count

Conditions of Release (summary):

• REDACTED research and development.
• Granted freedom of movement within the borders of the State of Amestris.

Record of Time Served (Summary):

• Central Maximum Security Prison, C-BLOCK: 3 days
• Central Secure Military Hospital: 502 days
• East City Prison: 14 days
• Fullberg City Jail House: 48 hours
• Fort Plithen Lockup: 60 hours manual labour
• West City Jail House: 36 hours
• Central Maximum Security Prison, SOLITARY CONFINEMENT: 30 days
• Central Maximum Security Prison, 50 lashes
• Central Maximum Security Prison, SOLITARY CONFINEMENT: 61 days
• Fort Briggs Lockup: 8 days
• South City Prison: 48 hours
• Dublith City Jail House: 24 hours
• Tralberg City Jail House: 28 hours

End of Summary.

Roy read through the summary. Then read through it again. A knack for getting himself in trouble was a heinous understatement.

His frown deepened as his eyes scanned further down the list of offences. His face turned into a downright scowl when he moved onto the record of time served.

Then horror as his eye locked onto a detail he’d missed the first time. There, on the first line under Record of Time Served: Central Maximum Security Prison, C-BLOCK.

C-BLOCK was reserved for offenders charged of a capital crime.

C-BLOCK was reserved for condemned inmates, waiting for their turn to walk in front of the firing squad.

C-BLOCK was a death sentence.

Roy Mustang picked up the photograph again. What the hell had this child done to deserve a sentence of execution?

The fiery golden eyes stared up at him from the too young face, unyielding.

He flipped through the other pages, the full details of his medical history, details of his criminal record, dates, places and comments from officers regarding his time served, his various arrests. There was a maddeningly large amount of information that had been redacted in Fullmetal’s file and that did not sit well with the Colonel. How was he expected to handle an incredibly gifted, inexperienced, reckless State Alchemist if he didn’t know the half of what he was capable of? He’d have a chat with General Gruman about that later.

He laid the papers out in front of him and frowned at them. He tapped a finger against his desk, thinking. Then, with another slow, deliberate move, he pushed his chair away from his desk, got up and walked to the door.

He opened it a crack, just enough to see her at her desk. Hawkeye, ever vigilant, looked up immediately, her expression calm, expecting.

“Lieutenant, a word please?”

Her mouth sets itself into a thin line at his tone. “Of course, Sir.”

When the door is closed, the others exchange grave looks as well. They’d also caught the gravity of the Colonel’s tone.

Roy Mustang waited for his Lieutenant to finish reading the file. So far she was the only one privy to the impending changes happening to their unit. She should know what to expect. But more importantly, he wanted her opinion.

“Well?” he asked when she put the last paper down and leaned back in her chair. The disturbed look on her face was probably very close to what his own face showed.

“Eleven.” She picked up the photograph the same way he had. “I never thought they’d stoop that low.” She tapped the word C-BLOCK. Roy was glad that she’d noticed that too.

“Do you have a choice in the matter?” she asked, ever the logical one.

He laced his fingers together, elbows on his desk, chin resting on his hands. “I suppose I could appeal the decision, but no not really.”

“Then we’ll assess and plan as we go.”

He nodded because that’s honestly the approach he’d come up with as well.

“However,” Riza flipped over a few pages and slid one across the desk to him, “I’d start by making sure he’s properly fit for the job.” The paper she’d given him was the detailed version of his Education. It was an alarmingly blank page with only two lines at the top. His State Alchemist Certificate (cum laude) and primary, level 4 (incomplete).

“Well Lieutenant, I’ll need you to pick up a few forms for me.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

To say the tension in the office was high was putting it lightly. Every scratch of Hawkeye’s pen on the paper was like someone scraping their nails down a chalk board. Her writing was usually neat, precise and efficient.

Today it was neat, precise, efficient and aggressive. It was such a subtle thing that most people wouldn’t notice. But the men huddled in the office, heads down working away cringed with every crossed t and dotted i.

They hadn’t even seen Mustang since he so eloquently told them they’d be welcoming a new State Alchemist into their ranks. “He starts tomorrow,” the Colonel had said.

That was three days ago.

So when Edward Elric finally strolled through the door of the office in a bright red coat with a travel case flung over one shoulder, a something wrapped in a napkin in hand and an annoyed scowl on his face,  every head turned to look at him. Most were curious, some apprehensive. He gave them all a cursory glance and promptly ignored them.

Hawkeye gave him her most unimpressed look in return before striding over to meet him halfway to the Colonel’s door.

“Fullmetal, I presume? I’m First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.” She sounded polite, professional.

But the others knew her well enough to know the tone for what it was. They stared unashamed.

Riza Hawkeye was pissed.

It’d been two days since their new Alchemist was supposed to report for duty to the Colonel.

Two days of watching Roy stress himself out over it (even though she might have been the only one to notice).

Two days of wondering if the kid would even show, considering his colourful history of insubordination.

(Two days of worrying that something bad had happened to him.)

He stood in front of her, out of uniform and unremorseful as he met her eyes. Pure unwavering defiance was etched in every inch of his round, not quite teenage, face. But there was also mistrust, hostility and a burning hatred. It shocked her a bit, to receive that from someone she’d never met before. But her face, thanks to years of practice, remained impassive.

“The Colonel’s been waiting for you,” she said crisply.

There is the very slightest twitch to one of his blond eyebrows but he says nothing. He outranks her, and by the look on his face, he knew it.

Without another word, she turned and led him to Mustang’s office, giving the door a firm rap before opening it. “Sir, Fullmetal is here,” she said with a pointed look at the man behind the door. They exchanged a silent conversation with that look in which Hawkeye prepared him for what to expect and finished with a good luck with this one before she stepped aside to let him in.

After door closed with a clack, Hawkeye stood there a moment longer than necessary, her hand on the handle. She willed Roy to not lose his temper.

When she turned back to the office at large, the others were quick to put their noses back to their work.

 With a sigh, Hawkeye sat back at her own desk. This time her writing was neat, precise, efficient and contemplative. She ran over the short exchange in her mind. The boy seeped arrogance. He carried himself like someone who knew they were the smartest person in the room. The hatred was clear on his face. The scowl was enough to make people think twice before approaching.

But years of reading people told her a different story.

Riza didn’t allow herself to presume she knew Edward Elric because she didn’t. But she thought that maybe, behind the arrogance, there was insecurity. Maybe the hatred was not directed to her, she felt, but rather to the uniform and her status as a soldier. Maybe, the scowl hid fear.

Maybe he was just a broken kid masquerading as a viper, not unlike the rest of them.

But she won’t presume.

“You’re late.”

Edward stopped behind the chair that faced the Colonel’s desk and took a bite of his food. He lifted his chin a fraction at the man’s hard gaze while he chewed. Defiant, check.

“My train was delayed,” he said gruffly around his mouthful.

Roy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “For three days?”

Edward was instantly defensive. “Shit happens!” he snapped. “What do you want?”

Roy leaned back in his chair, showing indifference. He knew as soon as he met those golden eyes that this boy was used to doing whatever the hell he wanted, consequences be damned. No wonder he’d gotten so many reprimands.

He really hated soldiers like that. He also really hated teenagers. He’d never had the privilege to hate both at the same time before.

“A phone call,” he said flatly.

A single raised golden eyebrow. “What are you, my mother? Shit happens,” Edward bit back, plopping himself unceremoniously into the chair. He shrugged again. Roy didn’t miss the way only the left shoulder raised when he shrugged. Loss of limb, right arm at the shoulder. Right.

Edward leaned back in the chair, one foot crossed over the other knee and watched Colonel Mustang while he ate. He waited for the older man to say something. Scold him for not being in uniform on the first day (technically the third)? Reprimand him for being impolite? For not saluting a superior officer? For sitting without having been invited to?

Roy ignored it all. He knew the kid was trying to toy with him. He’d dealt with far more cunning and far more subtle characters in his career.

“Yes,” he said, pulling the folder on his desk closer to him, opened it and scanned the contents. “Shit happens. But if you’re going to miss your rendezvous in future, you need to call.”

Edward scowled at him and Roy knew he’d won that one. He allowed a slight smile to grace the corner of his lips before looking up again. “I realise that up until now, you’ve been an independent agent.” He glanced down at the file. “Research, is it?”

The boy flinched but said nothing.

Roy didn’t expect an answer and ploughed on. “Unfortunately for both of us you’ve managed to piss off a critical number of people in Central and the powers that be decided you needed a tighter leash. So here we are. You’re under my Command now.” He pinned the young alchemist with a stern glare. “Which makes you part of my team and when a team member misses their rendezvous, I expect a phone call.”

His dark eyes glinted with amusement then. “You do know how to use a phone, right?”

Edward scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yes! I’m not a fucking moron,” he snapped. Vulgar, check.

“Well that’s a relief,” Roy said smoothly with false sincerity.

Edward stuffed his mouth with the remains of his breakfast, a dense looking loaf of some kind.

“It says here that you work with earth and metal, is that correct?” he went on.

Edward stopped chewing, his face darkened but he couldn’t hide the curiosity. “What else does it say?” Though the gravity behind the words was lost somewhat by the food he’d shoved in his mouth.

Roy cocked his head to the side in mock curiosity but his eyes were cold. “Why? Is there something you’d like to share?”

Edward clenched his jaw and Roy knew he wasn’t going to share anything.

“I’m a little surprised, frankly. Don’t you know what’s in your own file?” he asked, again with that same mock sincerity. It felt a little bit like poking at a wasp’s nest and he surprised himself with how much of a thrill it was. To be fair, Roy didn’t really know what was in half of it either but it was fun to watch the kid squirm.

Edward glared at him. “It’s classified,” he grit out, finishing his mouthful.

Roy examined him silently for a long moment, tapping one finger on the desk top impatiently while the younger alchemist rooted around in his pocket and pulled out another piece of the same dense loaf that looked suspiciously like fruitcake.

“Well that’s unfortunate,” he sighed. “I was hoping to put you to good use in the field,” he said evenly, watching for a reaction. “But since you’re classed as Research Grade, I can’t exactly send you out on missions.”

That caught the kid’s attention. His head snapped up. “What do you mean?!”

Roy feigned an incredulous look. “We don’t send scholars to the battlefield.”

“I know how to look after myself, asshole!” Edward snapped. He was on his feet again, hands closed into fists.

One of Roy’s eyebrows twitched involuntarily at the insult. “I’m not convinced, frankly.” The Colonel looked down and shuffled through the pages. “No training of any kind. I suppose you’ll just be doing lots of research into the uses of copper. Or approving land surveys perhaps? Maybe I can even get you a nice desk job at the National Mint in the fraud and counterfeit department. I can’t imagine there would be any other uses for a Research Grade State Alchemist who specialises in earth and metals. Unless there’s something else you’d like the research?”

Again, Edward’s jaw clenched shut. Roy could see the muscles twitch with the force. “What don’t you understand about the word classified, bastard.” He managed to grit out.

“I’m your Commanding Officer. I don’t think it unreasonable to want to know these things,” he shot back coldly.

Edward stubbornly said nothing.

Roy gave a great sigh of disappointment. “National Mint it is, then.” He pulled a form from the top drawer of his desk and picked up his pen to sign his name to it with deliberate resignation.

“Wait!”

Gotcha.

“I,-“ There was hesitation as Edward chewed on his lower lip. “I’ve been out in the field since I was certified. I can look after myself,” he insisted.

Roy stared him down. “Not as research grade, not under my watch.” He snapped coldly.

Edward was seeping rage and barely holding it in. Volatile, check.

“What the fuck do you know about what I can and can’t do?” the younger alchemist hissed.

Roy was unamused. “Nothing, apparently. Which is a real problem for me,” he answered calmly but his voice was rising. His fingers twitched around the pen. “Unless you’d like to tell me how you managed to be sentenced to death at eleven years old and still be breathing.”

Edward glared murderously at him. Both fists clenched, food destroyed in a steel grip. They stayed that way for a long moment. Roy could see the boy’s mind working. Perhaps weighing his options. Finally, Edward came to some sort of decision and pinned the Colonel fiery golden eyes. “I made a deal,” he said quietly. Deadly, almost.

“… A deal to research what?” Roy pried.

Edward didn’t answer.

“A deal to research forbidden alchemy?” he asked quietly. Edward flinched, looked away and Roy knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “Perhaps something you already have experience with?”

Roy was also an alchemist and he was far from stupid. There were only a handful of crimes one can be immediately sentenced to death for and even fewer relating to alchemy.

The boy had experience with Human Transmutation.

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or disgusted,” was all he said. Whether he meant he was disgusted with the fact that the kid had performed it at all or that he’d made a deal to save his own neck even Roy wasn’t sure.

Edward was shaking with suppressed rage.

“This stays between us,” he said after a long moment of silence to which Edward scoffed, “yeah no shit.”

Roy watched him a moment longer and decided he was done with this conversation. He needed time to process that one.

“You’re dismissed,” he said, closing the file folder. Edward’s head whipped up at that like Roy had slapped him in the face.

“What??”

“You are dismissed,” Roy said slowly. “Go away.”

“What about my assignments?”

“Later. Take the day to get settled into your dorm.” He fished around in a brown envelope and pulled out a single key on a ring. “Room 318, House G5. Lucky you, looks like your rank got you a private room.”

Edward stared blankly at him. “My….dorm?”

Roy raised both eyebrows at him. “You weren’t planning to sleep in the office, were you?” he snarked.

Edward’s face flushed red and his hand whipped out to snatch the key from the Colonel. “Fuck off,” he grumbled.

“It’s been an absolute pleasure, Fullmetal,” he responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now get lost.”

Long after the door slammed and Edward was gone, Roy let his face fall into his hands in exasperation.

“What have I done to deserve this fresh hell,” he asked out loud.

The office was silent.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

“It says here that you never finished grade school.” Roy looked up from the paper with amusement. “Too hard for you or what?” he teased.

Fullmetal was sitting on the couch this time. He looked rough with the dark circles under his eyes and Roy wondered if the boy had slept at all. He was once again stuffing his face, this time with a buttered pastry he must have snatched from the cafeteria.

“I was homeschooled,” he managed around the food.

Roy stared at him and flipped through the papers to make sure. There was no mention whatsoever about homeschooling. “That’s great and all… but if your parents never had you evaluated then officially you never completed your primary levels,” he said slowly.

Edward rolled his eyes. “So what? I’m a certified State Alchemist.”

Roy closed his eyes and willed himself to be patient. He ignored the flaky crumbs scattered on the carpet of his office. “SO,” he answered testily, “I will not have a degenerate grade school dropout under my command.”

Edward stared at him like he was stupid. “But… I’m a certified State Alchemist,” he repeated slowly.

“Great! Should be easy for you!” Roy tossed the stack of papers he’d gathered so they slid across his polished desk and stopped at the corner just before falling off. “You will complete the necessary examinations and earn your primary level education certificate.”

Edward stared at the papers as if they’d offended him. Then his eyes snapped up to meet Roy’s.

“What?!”

Roy gave him a smug smile and crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

Edward was on his feet. He gave the papers a quick glance again then glared at the Colonel. “No,” he said with a defiant shake of his head and pushed the papers away.

Roy stared him down with a raised eyebrow. Was this how their relationship was going to be? Pulling teeth every step of the way?

Edward huffed, leaning over the Colonel’s desk. “I’m supposed to be doing research. Being sent on missions! This,” he jabbed a finger at the papers, “This is bullshit,” he hissed.

Roy leaned forward as well until they were eye to eye, uncomfortably close and stared him down. “You will not be sent anywhere until you earn the proper credentials,” he said calmly.

They glared at each other until Edward relented. He rolled his eyes and snatched the forms. “You’re a real fucking bastard, you know that?”

Roy couldn’t help the smugness on his face which earned him another frustrated growl from the boy.

He flipped angrily through the papers on his way back to the couch to gather his coat. “Fucking fractions? Seriously?”

Roy sat himself back in his chair comfortably. “You’re dismissed, Fullmetal. And don’t come back until you’re done.”

Edward gave him the middle finger on his way out of the office.

It took him two hours and a near constant string of curses and insults but Edward completed all three primary level evaluations he’d been given under Hawkeye’s watchful eye (which he also complained about). The others watched him discreetly from their desks with varying levels of approval for his repertoire of foul words.

When he was finished, he marched back into the Colonel’s office and slapped the papers down on the man’s desk. “Happy now?” he asked sarcastically.

Roy leaned forward and shuffled through the pages with a nod of approval. “Great!” he said. “Excellent,” he went on as he pulled another, thicker stack from his top drawer. He slapped it down the same way the younger alchemist had done and gave him a devilish grin. “Now do the secondary levels.”

Edward actually growled at him. “Fuck off!” he snapped, though the sentiment was more incredulity than venom. “Those aren’t even required!”

But Roy stared him down with a superior smug smirk until Edward snatched the papers without another word. He slammed the door on his way out.

It took Edward longer to complete the secondary level evaluations. A whole week, in fact because though he was able to breeze through the mathematics, science and alchemy portions he wasn’t as knowledgeable when it came to history, politics, and art. Hawkeye watched over him as he wrote the exams at a desk that had been placed beside hers since it was required he have a proctor. Every once in a while, he stole glances at her but she remained impassive and professional despite his vulgar grumblings.

 When he was done, she actually smiled at him and said “Good work, Edward.”

This threw him off enough that he didn’t know how to respond. He fidgeted awkwardly with his papers and offered a mumbled “Thanks, I guess.” Then he scraped his chair against the tiles, marched into the Colonel’s office and just about threw the papers at him.

“What’s next? University?” he snarked.

Roy smiled smugly at him as he gathered the papers and pulled out a single brown envelope. He paused as he regarded Edward critically, batting the envelope lazily against his hand. “Did…you want to do university?” he asked uncertainly.

“What? No! I want to do research.”

“Well if you ask me,” Roy answered evenly with a touch of amusement, “a university seems like the perfect place to do research but what do I know, right? I’m not a Research grade State Alchemist.”

He slid the envelope across the desk and Edward eyed it with trepidation. “What’s this then?”

“Oh this?” Roy couldn’t hold the evil smirk from his face. “Your enrollment letter to the academy,” he said with a careless shrug.

It took a heartbeat for that to sink in.

“WHAT?!”

Roy raised an eyebrow at him with mock offence. “You don’t seriously expect me to send you on official military missions without the proper training do you?”

Edward ripped the envelope open and scanned through the letter and then stared incredulously at the Colonel. “I didn’t sign up for this!” he said with venom.

“Didn’t you?” Roy asked quietly, all amusement gone. Edward glared at him. “Did you really think that the sort of research you’re doing can be found in books and scholarly journals? It’s not in some dusty library Fullmetal, it’s out there being done by lunatics and alchemists that are just as desperate as you but ten times more dangerous.”

Edward opened his mouth to retort but Roy spoke over him, raising his voice. “Frankly I’m shocked that anyone in their right mind sent you out there as an independent agent without giving you so much as basic training. Have you ever even held a gun? Do you know basic first aid? Do you even know how to fight?”

Edward glared murderously at him. “I told you I can look after myself,” he said with a dangerous edge to his tone.

“You keep saying that but I don’t believe you.” Roy challenged.

Something twitched in Edward’s face. He was fast, Roy would give him credit for that. He felt the hum of the transmutation in his bones before he saw the blue crackle of energy dance over the boy’s hands. He was resourceful too, to have an array ready to go, not unlike his ignition gloves. The brass paperweight and a good chunk of his mahogany desk morphed into a terrifyingly sharp spear at his command but Edward never got the chance to lunge forward.

Because Roy was faster. With a snap of his fingers, white hot fire bloomed along the length of the weapon and it was reduced to ash and molten metal in Edward’s hands. He hastily dropped it and jump back. His head snapped up and he met Roy’s eyes in shock before locking onto his raised hand, red array stitched meticulously into the back of the glove.

The boy appraised the array with a quick, critical eye before focussing back on Roy. “You’re the Flame Alchemist,” he said in a breathless hiss as he realised who he was facing.

They stared each other down.

“I am, and you’ll do well to remember it,” Roy said gravely giving Edward a stern look.

They both jumped at the click of a safety being pulled and Edward whipped around to find Hawkeye in the doorway, gun drawn. She had it trained on Roy, to Edward’s surprise.

“Stand down, Lieutenant,” Roy sighed, waving her away. “Fullmetal and I just had a disagreement, is all.”

She did not look pleased but she did put the gun away. Her eyes moved from Roy to Edward to the burning corner of his desk. She strode forward with purpose and batted at the small flame with the folder she was holding.

“How many times do I have to tell you! No! Flame! Alchemy! In! The! Office!” she punctuated each word with a whack of the folder until the spot on the desk was a smoking black stain. She gave him a whack with the folder too, for good measure and Roy deflated somewhat.

Edward couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him.    

She also whacked him on the head with the folder on her way out. “That goes for you too!” she snapped.

There was an awkward silence after Hawkeye left and Roy cleared his throat, eyeing the blackened spot on his desk.

“So…. Academy-”

“I am not going,” Edward shot vehemently.

Roy was still on his feet and he towered over the boy. “And why is that?”

“I didn’t sign up to become a soldier,” Edward said with conviction.

It was Roy’s turn to stare at the boy as if he was stupid. “You’re… already enlisted. That’s what it means to be a State Alchemist. You do realise that, right?”

“I know that!” Edward snapped. He let out a frustrated growl and ran a hand through his bangs as he started pacing. “It’s not the same though. I’m not a soldier.”

Roy watched him carefully, thinking. “Why are you here?”

Edward stopped to look around the office incredulously before his eyes landed on the Colonel with an expression that clearly showed he thought the man had lost his mind. “I was ordered to report to your stupid ass,” he retorted.

Roy took a deep breath in order to keep his rising temper in check. “Judging by your extensive record of insubordination, I daresay you don’t strike me as the type of person who follows orders. But that’s not what I meant. Why did you certify as a State Alchemist when you clearly hate the military so much,” Roy clarified forcefully.

 “I was ordered,” Edward repeated but the word held a new level of hatred which earned him a raised eyebrow from the Colonel.

“Again, I don’t believe you.”

There was something simmering just under the surface and for a second Roy thought maybe Fullmetal would attack him again. He was always ready, in any case.

“I didn’t have a choice!” he practically shouted, raising both hands in frustration. “I was about to be shot, it seemed like a good idea at the time!”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

“But you have a choice now. They let you out, you can literally go anywhere and yet you remain fighting the authority tooth and nail every step of the way. Eighteen official counts of insubordination,” he said, jabbing his finger into the folder, practically shouting himself now, “and yet you keep coming back. You could have left the country entirely and yet you’re still here. Why?”

Edward averted his eyes, his fists clenched tightly. “I tried that,” he said quietly, defeated almost. “It didn’t go so well.”

Roy blinked, starting to understand a bit of the bigger picture. “You were arrested at the border.” It wasn’t a question but Edward nodded in affirmation.

“I spent a month in solitary for that,” he added bitterly. “I wasn’t even trying to leave leave, the assholes. I just wanted to check out the library in Vestralan, that’s in Creta.”

Roy considered the boy alchemist in front of him. He had no doubt the kid was smart and skilled. Probably exactly what the brass saw in him when they offered him the deal in the first place. But it still made no sense. He was wasted as research grade. Ok, so he agreed to save his own neck, who wouldn’t. But why would Fullmetal keep working for the military he clearly hated with a passion. He wasn’t doing it for himself, that was very clear.

“What are they holding over you?” he wondered out loud and Edward continued to stare at the floor. No thought Roy as he inhaled sharply, the realisation hitting him like a sack of bricks. Not what.

His eyes flicked over to the folder that held Fullmetal’s personnel file. Even though it was closed, he knew what was typed there.

Next of Kin.

“Or should I say who?” he went on. Edward flinched and Roy made a mental note to teach the kid to hide his emotions better. He was practically an open book!

Alphonse Elric (Brother)

“Don’t,” Edward said and he sounded small for the first time. He still didn’t meet the Colonel’s eyes. “Leave him out of this. He did nothing wrong!” The fact that Edward knew immediately what Roy was getting at told him that this threat had been used against him before.

Roy’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. There were a lot of things that the military did that he absolutely hated with every bone in his body. That’s why he wanted to change it. Holding a kid’s brother hostage to force him to use his skills and intellect for the gain of the military was beyond disgusting.

But he needed to know these things.

“Is your brother safe?” he asked with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Edward scoffed. “Of course he’s not safe,” he bit back. “But as long as I am a good dog and follow orders they’ll leave him alone.”

The Colonel sat down with a tired sigh. He hadn’t signed up this this either. “Listen, I don’t like this mess any more than you do. But the fact remains that we’re stuck with each other for now. In this unit, each person looks after themselves but we also have each other’s backs.”

Golden eyes looked up to him then, still filled with mistrust and hatred but also maybe a touch of something that could be hope. “That’s what it means to be part of a team. I’ll have your back but you have to work with me a little. This hostility,” he said, waving a gloved hand between the two of them, “is not going to work. Besides,” he added with what he hoped was a gentle smile, “the others are all great people if you just gave them a chance.”

Edward swallowed. He was trembling but whether that was suppressed rage or something else, Roy didn’t know. “What,” he started, trying to find the right words, “What do you want from me?” he all but whispered.

God, how much has this kid been taken advantage of?

“I want you to trust me,” he answered truthfully. I want a reliable subordinate. I want someone I can trust my life with. “Trust us.” Roy watched the boy ponder those words and had no doubt that trust was a hard one for him. He could hardly blame him.

“I want you to consider certifying as Combat Grade,” he went on.

Edward frowned at that, suspicious. “Why?”

Roy nodded. Suspicion was a good quality, he can work with that. “It will open more doors for you. It pays better and will allow you to keep travelling despite being under my Command. You’ll also be ranked equal to Major which gives you more authority,” he added with a pointed look. Roy was certain half of Fullmetal’s reprimands would not exist if he was a Combat Grade State Alchemist and had the authority to tell security guards to shove it. “Otherwise I can’t justify you running all over the country chasing whatever answers you’re looking for. Besides, I need to know that every member of this team can not only look after themselves….”

“They can watch your back,” Edward finished, reciting the words the Colonel had said earlier. “But,” Edward turned the thought over in his head and Roy knew he was considering it. “If I’m a Combat alchemist and we go to war, I’ll be sent to the front lines.”

“It’s a possibility, yes.”

Edward was silent for a long time and Roy sat back and watched him patiently. When the silence began to get uncomfortable he sighed. “I’ll give you the evening to think about it but I want an answer by tomo-”

“I’ll do it,” Edward interrupted suddenly.

Roy raised an eyebrow and was met with golden eyes that burned with determination. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to those eyes. He’d never seen anything quite like it; the colour of the boy’s irises was more than just uncommon, it was downright unsettling.

He gave a curt nod of approval. “You start on Monday. I’ve pulled some strings to get you into a fast-track program since you are already certified. Your program runs for eight months and you’ll be expected to attend four days a week. The other two will be spent shadowing one of your teammates in their work and you’ll get one day of rest.”

Edward bit the inside of this cheek in thought. “What about my own research? My assessment is in six months and I need to have something to present.”

Roy eyed the melted metal globs on the edge of his desk with a frown. “Would that be research into earth and metal or…… ?”

Edward gave him a flat look. “Hm, no.”

Roy shrugged. “Not my problem then, you’ll have to do that on your own time,” he said callously. He still wasn’t entirely sure what the kid’s research subject was and part of him didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to get involved.

The kid let out an annoyed huff and crossed his arms mumbling something that sounded like slave driver.

Roy pointed at the discarded envelope. “You’ll find all the information you need in your enrollment letter. I’m giving you the rest of the week end to prepare yourself but I expect you to present yourself to the academy on Monday morning. You’re dismissed.”

Edward gave him a sour look but nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh and Fullmetal, one more thing,” Roy added. When the boy turned to look at him Roy made sure to rest his chin on his laced fingers, ignition gloves in full view. “If you attack me again I will burn you,” he promised.

Edward’s eyes darted quickly to the flame array then back to the Colonel’s face, his mouth set in a grimace but he said nothing as he left the office. Still, Roy didn’t think he’d imagined the look that conveyed “you can try”.

Fucking teenagers and their fucking attitude.

Roy felt the urge to smash his ink bottle against the wall but the thought of Riza’s wrath was enough to stop the impulse.

It was only after he calmed down that Roy realised, eyeing the charred desk and what used to be a paperweight from Xing shaped like a peacock that not only had the kid performed the transmutation in a fraction of a second, he’d done it on two entirely different materials in tandem.

Most of the Combat alchemists, himself included, used premeditated arrays they kept on them at all times. It was practically a requirement if you had to use alchemy as a weapon. The downside was that it limited you to a highly specialised technique. He examined his gloves.

Sure, he could draw a transmutation circle to change the shape of metal or wood if he looked up the components first. Could he do it on the fly from memory in the heat of battle? No.

Could he do them simultaneously? Hell no.

That kind of alchemy was not unheard of but it was rare because it required an insane level of concentration to pull off. He couldn’t imagine holding a live flame array while also powering a transmutation for stone. It was suicidal, in his opinion; a recipe for disaster that would likely end with a rebound. He shuddered at the thought.

Maybe he needed to re-evaluate his opinion of the kid.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

 

 

5 May 19xx

Dear Al,

I made it to East City in one piece but can’t say the same for my luggage. It got put in the wrong pile at the station and sent south. So I had to board the next train heading south to get it and ended up missing my connection to Central. Something about cows on the rails or some bullshit.

Anyway, I ended up staying the night in some guy’s barn. Only a storm blew in during the night and ripped the side right off the building and all his cows got loose. I ended up running around the countryside trying to round them all up. What a pain!

But I am glad I was able to help. Anyway, I missed the train again because of that so I got a lift with a merchant heading east. I managed to catch a train at the first station I got to heading east and got into the city very late but at least I still have all my stuff.

I’ll have to figure out where to get some breakfast in the morning since all I have left is that fruitcake. I mean it’s alright, it’s lightweight and cuts down on having to stop to cook meals but it gets old pretty fast. And I need to figure out where I’m supposed to go at Headquarters.

I’m writing to you from a shitty inn near the station, one of the few places still open so late. I’m exhausted. Once I get settled and have some free time, I’ll come visit you since I’m much closer now than I was in Central. Until then, stay safe little brother.

Love,

Ed

 

 

 

11 May 19xx

 

Dear Al,

I met my new commanding officer:  Colonel Roy Mustang, the fucking Flame Alchemist! The guy’s a manipulative, smug, condescending jackass but man, he’s good. I’ll have to figure out his alchemy though.  I still can’t believe they’re assigning me to a team. What a joke. First Lieutenant Hawkeye seems nice. She brought me a muffin the other day but she’s also kind of scary.

Oh and I got my own room in the housing complex. It has its own bathroom which is amazing because if I had to share the showers with a bunch of other guys I’d go back to the shitty inn. It’s bad enough that people stare at me at HQ because I’m a decade younger than most people, I don’t need them doing it while I’m naked with the automail on full display. Speaking of, it’s been giving me trouble lately. Locking up at the worst possible times. I guess I’ll need to find a reliable shop here in East City since it looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while.

Colonel Bastard wants me to be a combat alchemist, said some shit about being able to pull my weight. I can pull my weight thank you very much! I really wanted to punch him in his stupid face. Anyway, he’s not wrong about the other stuff. I would have more authority. And it pays almost twice as much, so I can put more away for you, for when you get better. Anyway I said yes, please don’t be mad at me! I think it’s the right decision for now. But I got to do basic training bullshit first so I guess I won’t get a chance to come see you soon after all. The first chance I get though, I promise!

Stay safe, little brother,

Love,

Ed.

 

-----------------BONUS--------------------

A/N: Hahaha, don’t think too hard about the next bit. I had a scene where Riza questions Roy’s methods in dealing with Ed but it didn’t fit nicely into the last chapter so I decided to cut it. This is just really poking fun at the idea.

 “Are you really going to let him speak to you like that, Sir?”

Roy nearly jumps out of his chair as Riza drops a stack of files on his desk. He’s been quietly simmering in his chair doing his best not the snap the pencil in his hand in half since Fullmetal left.

He gives a great sigh and sets the pencil down with a clack.

“I read up on how to deal with adolescents,” he says, getting up to pull a book off the shelf behind him. “I’m supposed to reward good behaviour and ignore the bad,” he says thoughtfully, flipping through the book.

Riza stares at him. Then she tilts her head to read the spine of the book. What to Expect In the Second Year. “Um, Roy, that’s for toddlers,” she says with exasperation.

Roy shrugs. “Toddlers, teenagers, same thing really.”

“How so?” she asks, rolling her eyes, hands on her hips.

“They’re moody, dramatic, egotistical little gremlins with enough attitude to fill ten swimming pools.”

She gives him a raised eyebrow. “Edward’s not that bad,” she says, “though his manners could use some work.”

“He’s nice to you because you bribe him with food, Riza.”

She shrugs in turn as if to say hey whatever works. “I’ve also been doing some reading,” she says and pulls out a small pocket book. Roy couldn’t read the title but there was a caricature of a doe-eyed puppy on the front. “It says to reward good behaviour with treats.”

Roy threw up his hands in exasperation. “How is treating him like a dog better than treating him like a toddler?”

Riza smirked at him. “Results,” she answers smoothly. “You said so yourself, he’s nice to me.”

After she leaves, Roy leans back in his chair thinking. Maybe he should get a jar of cookies for his office….

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Edward visited the Academy Registration Office the day before he was meant to start. He was stared at but that was nothing new. The Colonel’s letter was enough to iron out the frowns from people’s faces and if that didn’t work, one of Edward’s well placed scowls did the trick. He was handed a box with a uniform in it and told that his room was in D-Wing, Unit 503.

He tried to argue with the lady that he already had a room at Eastern Command but she was too frazzled and too distracted to pay him any attention. He didn’t want to be here anyway so he decided fuck it and wandered off with his schedule and other apparently important papers in one arm, his boxed uniform under the other and a murderous glint in his eye. He silently dared anyone to stop him just because he really wanted to vent out his frustration.

People kept staring at him but it wasn’t until he got to the dorms that someone actually approached him.

“Excuse me,” said a young man striding up to the young alchemist. Edward was standing in front of room 503, hand reaching for the handle. The young man was clean shaven, hair trimmed neatly, average size, average height, average Amestrian Blond, average Amestrian blue eyes. He towered over the younger. “This is a restricted area, you’re not allowed to be here.” It was not a condescending tone, necessarily. But it was enough to spike the alchemist’s temper up a few notches.

Edward raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. He pointed to the black numbers painted on the wall beside the door. “This is my room,” he said without leaving room for argument. Next to this picture perfect soldier, Edward looked every bit like the delinquent described in his file. His hair was a bit too long, his gothic-style black clothes this side of dirty and his red coat screaming for attention.

The young man didn’t flinch at the murderous glare sent his way. He was very professional. “I’m sorry but I’m going to need to see some identification,” he said firmly.

A few other young men had stopped walking now to watch.

Edward glowered. “And who the fuck are you?” he said as he looked the man up and down, searching his uniform for a rank. A Sergeant. Fucking fantastic.

The young man bristled at the tone, straightening up a bit. “I’m Sergeant Frederick Yssen, and you need to show me some identification right now or I’ll have you escorted from the premises.”

Edward gripped his watch in his pocket even as the Sergeant spoke. He wouldn’t lie and say he hated to do this. He loved the reaction the trinket elicited from people. He held up his watch, showing the President’s seal clearly to the young Sergeant and enjoyed the sound of a collective sharp inhale from those watching. If he cared more, he would keep it nicely polished and the effect would be even better. If he cared more.

“Edward Elric, Fullmetal.” He replied smugly with a challenging glint to his eye.

Sergeant Yssen considered the watch, then looked into Edward’s face and accepted his proof of station with a sigh. “Ah, so you’re the alchemist, huh? I knew you were younger than most cadets but I have to say I wasn’t expecting you to be so…well, so…”

Another young man on Edward’s right answered for him. “Small?” he said with a snicker.

Edward kicked him in the shin. Hard. With his left foot. “Who’re you callin’ small you son of a bi-”

Sergeant Yssen and several of the other men jumped in then, two on each side of the seething alchemist while the poor cadet sat sprawled on the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?  You’re like a rabid dog or something,” he hissed, gripping his leg.

Edward struggled against the arms holding him. “Call me tiny again and I’ll fucking show you rabid,” he snarled.

“That’s enough!” shouted the Sergeant. He pinned the alchemist with a stern look. “There will be no brawling here or anywhere on the academy grounds. If that’s how you deal with your problems, you can pack your things right now and get out.” Edward had the grace to stop struggling and the men let him go. He straightened his jacket with a huff and a few choice words mumbled under his breath.

“Am I clear, Fullmetal?”

Edward was a bit surprised to be addressed by his title. He recognised it as a show of respect to his station. But the look Yssen was giving him was pure disappointment. “Crystal,” he answered. He was still pissed but he reminded himself (in a voice that often sounded like the high clear voice of his little brother) that he needed the Colonel to allow him to go out into the field. And for that, he needed to complete his training.

He wasn’t here to make friends though.

Without another word, he marched into his room and slammed the door.

“That could have gone better,” he said to himself, throwing his box carelessly onto the closest bed. “Whatever.”

The room was nothing special. There were two beds though. The thought of sharing a room with someone else was uncomfortable. He supposed he could always go back to HQ every night. But a quick glance at his schedule told him that was not feasible. The cadets’ daily lives were regulated down to the minute. And the day started at 5 am. His dorm at HQ was all the way on the other side of the city which meant he’d have to get up at an ungodly hour just to get here on time. No, it made more sense to stay here during the four days he was expected to attend and then stay at HQ for the rest of the week.

“Fantastic,” he muttered.

The beds were bland grey metal frames with bland grey sheets and bland grey blankets. It reminded him uncomfortably of prison and a shiver ran down his spine. His eyes darted to the small window just to make sure there weren’t bars on it. There weren’t but the feeling of being trapped didn’t go away.

He sat on the bed and stared around the room. He hated it. At least his dorm at HQ felt more like a tiny hotel room. This? Well this was a step up from solitary confinement. His red coat, thrown over the back of the desk chair in the corner was the only splash of colour in the small confined space.

Edward took the top off the box and eyed the uniform. It was an ugly shade of dull green and he shuddered, pushing it away. Instead, he pulled his travel case closer and popped the clasps. He fished around and took out a crisp leather journal, a worn notebook, and a few books. He eyed them each and went with the journal, putting pen to paper. His letters always started the same.

Dear Al,

Writing to Al always helped calm him down. It was like his little brother was right there, experiencing this messed up life right alongside him. He hated that he wouldn’t be able to visit Al for a while. It took half a day just to get there and he only had one day of free time. And on top of that, he needed to hit the library if he expected to turn in anything significant for his evaluation. Central expected results and they were not lenient; he had the scars to prove it.

After he snapped his journal closed, he brought his books and notebook to the small desk with a sigh and got to work translating his latest find. Edward worked on it for hours until all he saw when he blinked were swirling patterns and alchemic runes. A sharp knock on his door jolted him back to the present and his heart jumped into his throat when he looked around and saw grey, grey and more grey. For half a second he could have sworn he was back in Central Max, the bars closing in on him. But he blinked and realised he was in his new room at the academy and the sun was low in the sky.

He pressed a firm hand to his chest and willed his heart to calm to a regular beat before he got up. The automail protested at supporting his weight with an awful creak and the knee locked. “Fuck off you stupid piece of junk!” hissed and whacked it a few times against the desk. He then limped over to the door, tearing it open.

“What?!”

Yssen was standing there holding a tray. He didn’t look particularly impressed but he held his determined, friendly look. “Elric,” he said in way of greeting. “A word?”

Edward eyed him suspiciously, his eyes travelling to the tray laden with stew, a bread roll and a glass of water. His stomach reminded him at that exact moment that he’d skipped dinner but the image was too much like the prison guards bringing him his meal, especially after the scare he just had, that he shuddered.

He stepped aside and let the man in. Edward was quick to walk across the room and close his book over his notes. That shit was for authorised eyes only thank you very much, not that anyone could easily read his coded notes. But Yssen paid no attention to that. He set the tray down on the bedside table and waited for Edward’s attention.

When the young alchemist turned to him with a questioning look, Yssen cleared his throat. “You almost broke Ritch’s leg today.” He said it as if he was commenting on the weather.

Edward fisted his hands. “Fucker had it coming,” he growled contemptuously.

The sergeant gave him an odd look. “You’re so abrasive,” he remarked. “I don’t think Ritch deserved that, he’s a great guy.”

Edward crossed his arms and frowned. “What do you want? Because if you came here to lecture me, I-”

“I came to check on you, since you didn’t come for dinner,” he cut in with a calm and level tone that just really managed to irk the young alchemist even more. Yssen indicated the tray.

“Yeah well, I’m fine. And I don’t need a nanny.”

Again, Yssen gave him a look that was verging on pitying. “Hasn’t anyone ever done something nice for you just for the sake of being nice?” he asked.

Edward thought of Lieutenant Hawkeye and the muffin she’d left on his desk. And that time he’d come back from a bathroom break to find a cup of coffee among his papers. They’re just being nice, the little Al voice had said, there’s no ulterior motive. Not everyone is out to get you.

Yssen shook his head. “Actually that’s not the only reason why I came. I’ll cut you some slack today about dinner because you don’t officially start until tomorrow but you are expected to go to meals at meal times with everyone else. Also-” he raised his voice over the beginnings of protest. “I’m letting you off with a warning because Ritch insisted but violence against other cadets will not be tolerated. Understood?”

Edward almost pouted but stopped himself. He was supposed to be grown up, right? “I’ll do my best,” he grit out. He surprised himself at how good he’d gotten at swallowing his pride when it mattered. Fifty lashes will do that to you.

Yssen watched him, contemplative. “You’re going to have to try a bit harder if you don’t want this semester to be a living hell for you.”

Edward narrowed his eyes at him, sensing a threat. The sergeant waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, not from me. But, starting off by nearly breaking someone’s leg is a bit of a jerk move, if you know what I mean. Just… try to play nice.”

The young alchemist crossed his arms. “If I’m such a jerk, why are you being nice to me?” Edward was a rather blunt person. He preferred others to be blunt too instead of prancing around what their real intentions were.

That confused Yssen. “Do I….need a reason to be nice? It’s because I’m a nice person.” He was also observant. He noticed this conversation was not going anywhere.

“Well, enjoy your dinner, Elric,” he said with a shrug and left.

Edward watched the closed door for a moment, then he eyed the tray. His stomach gave an uncomfortable growl but he didn’t think he could eat. His nerves were twisted, his leg hurt and all this damn grey was bringing up bad memories in troves. He reminded himself that he was free to leave his room whenever he wanted. I’m not a prisoner here.

He left his door open a crack (for his own sanity), sat on his bed and picked at the bread roll.

He already knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

5 am was not necessarily an ungodly hour but it was a close second. Especially for someone who didn’t get much sleep the night before. Still, Edward dragged himself out of bed, braided his hair neatly and slipped on the uniform. It was too big. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, holding his arms out with the sleeves hanging sadly over his hands.

It was a shitty way to start the day. He pushed his sleeves up, touched his palms together and made the cloth shrink around him, pulling the excess thread out and letting it drop in a dull green heap on the floor. It was a perfect fit, thank you very much. With a disdainful grunt, he kicked the ball of thread fluff under the bed, made sure his journal and notes were safely hidden inside the wall with no seams showing and gave his red coat a sad little tap as if to say not this time, buddy.

People stared. What else was new? The guy Ritch approached him at breakfast flanked by tall, fit young men and Edward had another uncomfortable moment of déja-vu courtesy of Central Max. He tensed, gripping the butter knife. “Hey, Elric? You pack quite the kick, sorry if I offended you.”

Edward looked up from his bowl of mush oatmeal, thrown off by the friendly tone and still searching their faces for bad intent. All he found was open curiosity and sincerity.

Hasn’t anyone ever done something nice for you just for the sake of being nice?

He allowed his shoulders to relax a fraction, laying the knife down flat discreetly (though his hand stayed on top of it.) This wasn’t prison, these were cadets; Amestris’ future soldiers.

Be nice said the Al voice.

“Sorry,” he said around his spoon, the word tasting sour in his mouth. “Shoulda used my right.”

The young man seemed confused by this until Edward pulled his pant leg up a fraction and the harsh overhead light glinted off the metal ankle. Ritch blanched. “You kicked me with automail??”

“Like I said, should’ve used the other foot. Lapse in judgement,” he said flatly with a careless shrug. “Won’t happen again unless you make more stupid comments on my height.”

Ritch exchanged glances with the other young man beside him. “Noted,” he said with a grimace and he limped away. Just like that, they were gone.

Not everyone is out to get you.

“Shut up,” he whispered to the bowl of mush.

It said nothing.

As he left the mess, dropping his dishes on the counter, a stern young man approached him and he tensed all over again. This one looked self-important too.

“Elric?” he said, looking down at him. Edward bristled but nodded.

“The Colonel wants to see you,” the man said and motioned for him to follow. Edward had half a mind to tell him where the Colonel could shove it.

He was led to an office on the main floor and the young man who’d retrieved him saluted crisply and left. Edward was left staring at a man who was not the Colonel he’d expected. This one was a mountain of a man; all muscle, short cropped hair, pristine uniform with all of its shining buttons on full display.

He looked at the boy like a particularly gruesome spider that needed to be squashed. Edward did not appreciate the sentiment. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin a fraction, showing the man his best defiant stare.

“Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist,” the Colonel started. He had a loud commanding voice and he wasn’t even shouting. He walked around his desk, hands clasped behind his back and looked down his nose at the young alchemist. His name tag read Col. Heyes. “It’s an honour to have such a celebrity among us.” His tone said it was anything but.

 “The youngest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris.” Colonel Heyes made it sound like he was reciting it from the back of a sports card. The steely eyes evaluated the boy in front of him from the top of his golden head down to the toes of his regulation combat boots. “I suppose credit where credit is due,” he said crisply with a tight nod. Edward didn’t budge.

“I have nothing but respect for Colonel Mustang, which is why I agreed to take you. However,” he went on, “you may be a State Alchemist out there but here, under my roof, you,” he leaned down to stare intently into Edward’s face, “- are nothing.”

Edward glowered at him.

“You are not to use alchemy here. You are not a State Alchemist here and you will not, under ANY circumstances pull rank. You WILL fall in line, understood?!”

Golden eyes stared back at the man with hatred and determination. He needed to do this, for Al.

The man moved his arm in a snap and the sound of a sharp flack was followed by a sting on Edward’s left elbow. He startled but held his ground. Colonel Heyes straightened, tapping a riding crop against one hand. “The correct response is <Yes, Sir!>”, he said in his booming voice.

Edward swallowed, struggling between the urge to rub at the spot or punch this man in the face. “Yes, Sir,” he replied automatically.

The crop snapped out again, smacking his forearm this time. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU CADET!” the Colonel shouted in his face.

The fire burned brighter. “YES, SIR!” Edward shouted back. He hated this man so, so much.

Colonel Heyes walked around him, inspecting him from all angles. “I don’t care much for your attitude cadet.” He lifted the braid with the end of the crop and let it fall. “You’re lucky I let you keep that bird’s nest on your head but from now on, you will tie it according to regulation! Understood?!”

Edward bit his tongue. Regulation for long hair mostly applied to women. It needed to be pinned up, off his neck. The crop slammed down on his left shoulder this time and he remembered too late that he was supposed to answer.

“YES, SIR!”

“Cause any more trouble and I WILL have it shorn!”

The Colonel lifted the crop again but Edward was ready for it

“YES, SIR!” he answered with an involuntary flinch.

The man lowered the crop and grinned.

“You’re dismissed!” he growled.

When the man looked as if he wanted to hit him again, Edward gave a salute because he knew it was what he should do. He couldn’t get out of that office fast enough.

He quickly did his hair up with a pin he transmuted (because no alchemy? Really? Fuck you) and made it just in time for warm ups on the track. He groaned when he saw it was the sergeant from yesterday.

“Elric! Get in line!” the man shouted.

He worked through the warm ups with his knee locking sporadically on him. He silently cursed the piece of junk.

“TEN LAPSE AROUND THE TRACK!” Sergeant Yssen shouted and the cadets started running. Then, he turned to Edward and pointed at him. “Elric! A word!”

Edward threw his hands in the air because now what??

The Sergeant looked at him critically. “I was made aware that you carry automail,” he said. He was not shouting, just concerned. He surely hadn’t missed the way the boy had struggled during warm ups.

Edward hated it. He narrowed his eyes at the man, daring him to say it.

Yssen was unfazed. “I want you to know that if you can’t handle training because of your handicap you won’t make it in the field. You won’t be given any special treatment here.”

Edward let out a breath, relieved. “Good,” he said with a downright evil grin. “Because if you were going to tell me I was exempt because of my handicap, I’d have punched you in the face.”

Yssen raised both eyebrows at the gall of threatening an officer. But to Edward’s surprise, he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. The boy only flinched away a little. “I like you, kid.” Then he pushed him hard and Edward’s knee locked earning him a close-up view of the grass.

Yssen chuckled. “Go on, then, get going!”

“I hate you,” mumbled the alchemist. But he got up and started running with the others.

It turned out that Edward’s special program was packed full of physical endurance training. Every day for his first week he ran laps, lifted weights, climbed things and practiced rolling around in the grass. He had  few breaks and fell exhausted into his bed every night.

When he shuffled into Colonel Mustang’s office on the fifth day of his training, he was bone tired and sore all over.

“Yeesh, you look like you just came from Boot Camp,” the tall one (Havoc?) said with a knowing chuckle

Edward glared at him. “I did,” he whined, letting himself fall at the nearest desk. Havoc patted his arm in sympathy. “I hear ya, Chief. We’ve all been there.”

Edward buried his face in the crook of his arm. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep was good.

“Fullmetal! You survived, that’s a relief.”

Edward did not dignify Colonel Mustang’s jibe with a response. The man went on regardless. “Look alive kid, you’re with Hawkeye today.”

When Edward lifted his head, he saw Mustang leaning on the door frame to his private office. Lieutenant Hawkeye had her coat on, handbag over her arm, keys in hand.

He eyed them suspiciously. “Where are we going,” he asked tentatively.

Hawkeye grinned at him. “The firing range.”

Fucking Fantastic.

Thanks for reading,

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

The smell hit him first. He caught it on the wind as Lieutenant Hawkeye drove them up the winding road that snaked through a dense forest just outside the city. The part of Edward’s brain that was prone to a wild imagination tried to convince him that she was taking him out to the woods to shoot him. But he quickly shut that down. It was true that he didn’t know these people that well but it sounded ludicrous, even to him. Still, he gave her occasional sideways glances, eyeing the holsters on her hips.

It got stronger as they went, the wisps of smoke and gunpowder on the air. Eventually, they stopped at a checkpoint set in the middle of a tall fence and a man in uniform came out to greet them.

“Ah, Lieutenant! How are you?” he asked jovially. He held his hand out and she automatically handed her identification with a smile. It was clear that it was just a formality and a strict adherence to the rules  because he was obviously familiar enough with Hawkeye to give the card only a quick glance and hand it back. The man leaned on the window casually to see into the car at the passenger seat. “And who is this?”

Lieutenant Hawkeye didn’t hesitate. “This is Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist,” she said, nodding her head to the boy. The man did a double take and Edward was ready with his watch and identification card. He handed it to the second uniformed soldier that had walked up to the passenger window with an annoyed huff. He didn’t like the way the man was scrutinising him, eyeing him like some kind of prized game.

“Coming out for some target practice?” he asked with a crooked grin.

Hawkeye watched the young alchemist out of the corner of her eye and his gut twisted. “Something like that,” she said.

“Alright, have fun!” the man waved at someone out of sight as he backed away from the car and the large gate rolled open across the road.

Edward sat up straighter in his seat as they drove on, the soldier’s words ringing in his ears.

Target practice.

Target practice.

Target practice.

Shut. Up.

“What was that?” Hawkeye was watching him and he had half a mind to tell her to keep her eyes on the road. Had he said that out loud? Shit.

“Oh, uh. Nothing,” he mumbled. Why did this woman terrify him so much?

“hmm,” was all she said and they went on in silence. When they came to the end of the road, the dense trees opened up into rolling fields. A long squat building was at the forefront with a few smaller structures scattered around and this is where Hawkeye stopped the car.

“Here we are,” she said. She got out and grabbed a large case from the back. Edward was a bit slower to get out. Not only was he still very sore from his week at the academy, he was a bit reluctant to follow in case this really was target practice.

She paused on her way into the building, giving him an expectant look. “Coming?” He nodded with a nervous look around. The smell was stronger here. It was the sharp acrid smell of gunpowder and he could hear the constant pop pop pop of rounds being fired in the distance. He didn’t know why this place made his skin crawl but he hated it.

They walked in and she registered them at the front desk. Everybody knew her. Lieutenant Hawkeye was friendly and polite with every person they came across and Edward wondered how much time she must spend here.

 To the alchemist’s surprise, they marched past the double doors that read “firing range” and into an open hall with long tables. Here, Hawkeye set the case down on the table and sat down. He followed her lead, taking a seat on the other side of the table.

“Have you ever fired a gun before?” she asked him bluntly.

Edward shook his head. Then she tilted her head to the side, considering. “Have you ever held a gun before?” she asked next.

“No,” he answered, feeling a bit like this was some sort of surprise quiz.

She nodded and drew one of her firearms. Edward was rather proud of himself for not flinching. Hawkeye took out the clip, checked the chamber and laid it on the table between them. “Go on,” she said with a nod of encouragement, “pick it up.”

Edward hesitated. He’d seen a lot of guns (most of them pointed at him). He’d never had an interest in wielding one before. He didn’t really now, either.

“Though it’s not strictly necessary for you to carry a service weapon,” she said as if reading his mind, “Colonel Mustang and I firmly believe that you should for your own protection. You may never have to use it but it never hurts to be prepared.”

He ran his hand along the smooth metal first and then picked it up with his left hand. It was heavier than he was expecting.

“A gun is a tool, Edward,” she went on. Her voice was calm and open. She was a good teacher. “A deadly tool, but a tool nonetheless. Don’t ever point it at something unless you are prepared to pull the trigger.”

His eyes looked up to meet her steely gaze. “Have you ever shot someone?” he asked.

Something he couldn’t quite read flashed over her face and her eyes hardened a fraction. “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “It was my job, during the war. I am a trained sniper.”

He stared at her. Knowing she was capable of shooting him at any given moment and not miss was bad enough. Knowing that she could do it from hundreds of yards away was downright terrifying. He laid the gun down on the table gingerly and swallowed nervously.

She took it and started taking it apart. “You’ll learn to do this quickly and efficiently at the academy,” she said as he watched her. He’d seen soldiers do this before but he didn’t know why.

“What’s the point?” he asked. “Of taking it apart, I mean.”

She offered a patient smile. “A firearm is an intricate tool. It has a lot of small moving parts and you want to always make sure they are clean and in good working order. Field stripping, that’s taking it apart as much as you can without the use of tools, allows you to clean each piece you wouldn’t normally be able to reach. Also, it allows you to check for wear and tear that might make it malfunction. Kind of like your automail,” she added pointing to the metal hand. “Like how you take it apart a bit in order to clean and inspect the parts.”

Edward stared at her then at his metal hand with an admittedly guilty look on his face.

“You… do take it apart and clean it once in a while, don’t you?” she asked after a few long awkward moments.

He looked back up to her and bit his bottom lip.  “Uh, no. No, I’ve never done that.”

Hawkeye laid the piece she was holding down on the table and gave him an admonishing look. “That’s unacceptable,” she said calmly. Honestly, thought Edward, it would have been better if she’d shouted at him. “How do you expect your automail to function properly if you don’t maintain it?”

“That’s what a mechanic is for?”

Hawkeye shook her head in disapproval. Yeah, shouting was a thousand times better. “Anyway,” she said, making an effort to move past the subject, “like I said, you’ll learn to do this in basic training but I want you to practice a bit first before we hit the range.”

He nodded and focused on everything she was telling him.

Edward soaked it in like a sponge as his brain was prone to do. He wasn’t known as a prodigy for nothing. When it came to the practical part of learning, the part where he did it himself, he struggled a bit. It was beyond frustrating because he knew what he needed to do but the automail was not as dextrous as a real hand. It was a thousand times better than no hand, but he was still fairly new with it and he still had trouble with the fine motor control.

He growled in frustration as he dropped a small piece for the third time in a row. Hawkeye was patient. “Take your time,” she said. “This is even more reason to practice, it’ll help with your arm’s rehabilitation.”

Finally, the last piece clicked into place and he put it down rather harder than he meant to.

“Good work, Edward,” she said.

He blew the bangs out from his face and grimaced. Right now he wanted to do anything but take that damn gun apart one more time. His eyes landed on the case she’d brought in from the car. “What’s in there?” he asked nodding at it.

“My rifle,” she answered. He liked that about her, she was open and got straight to the point. “Let’s have lunch and then we’ll take it out to the range and you can try it,” she said. And at the crestfallen look on his face as he realised he hadn’t brought anything to eat, she added “I brought you a bagged lunch.”

Terrifying but nice. That was Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye in a nutshell.

They ate their lunch outside and after, as promised, Riza took him into the firing range. She instructed him on how to stand, his posture, his grip and warned him about the recoil.

He did his best to follow her directions and felt pretty good about his stance but it still shocked him when he pulled the trigger. It was loud. Even with the ear protection.

He felt the jolt travel up his metal arm and right into the braces that joined the automal to the bones of his shoulder. And “Holy fuck-“ he bit out, “Oww.”

Hawkeye watched him with a critical eye. “You have to dissipate the force through your body,” she said, correcting his elbow and grip a fraction. “Try again.”

On the whole, it did get easier now that he knew what to expect. His aim was not too shabby either, but it needed a lot of work.

When Lieutenant Hawkeye took her turn, she hit six consecutive bullseyes with a nod of satisfaction. They practiced for a solid hour before she called their session over. Edward was thankful though he would never complain. His shoulder was on fire.

“Let’s head out to the long range so you can try the rifle then we’ll head out, ok?”

He nodded numbly because he didn’t how much more of that he had in him. He followed her outside and watched as she set up her sniper’s rifle. His eyes scanned the field in front of them and he could barely see the target way off near a clump of trees.

“What’s the distance?” he asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Hawkeye looked through the scope on her rifle at her target. “Seven hundred meters,” she answered cooly and took the shot. She did not miss.

Edward stared at the woman. Holy shit.

“Would you like to try?”

Edward was still staring at that distant target.

“Edward?”

He brought himself back to the present and shook his head. “Actually, my arm is pretty beat. Maybe another time?”

She considered his automail for a second and nodded. “Alright, another time then.” He could still hear other shooters on the range. It was a near constant pop pop of gunfire and he suddenly realised why it made him so uncomfortable.

As Hawkeye packed up her rifle with care, Edward was eleven years old again, staring up at the ceiling of his cell in C-BLOCK. There were five of them there when the week began. And every day, the guards marched a man past his cell and down the long hallway to the yard outside. He couldn’t cover both ears with only one hand but he tried.

The smattering of gunfire and the sharp acrid smell of gunpowder assaulted his senses and made his heart constrict painfully. Because tomorrow, it was someone else’s turn. Maybe his turn and all he could think about was how they expected him to walk down that long hallway with only one leg. Maybe they would drag him.

Maybe it would be better if he didn’t give them the chance. Edward knew about a hundred different ways to take his own life using alchemy, none of them pretty. But then he thought of Alphonse and he worried that if they couldn’t dole out justice on him, they’d go after his brother instead.

“Edward?”

He couldn’t get the taste of gunpowder out of his mouth for weeks.

“Edward??” A hand landed on his shoulder and he jerked back to the present. Hawkeye had finished with her rifle and was staring at him, concerned. “Are you ok?”

He shook himself. There was not point dwelling on the past. “Yeah, just lost in thought,” he answered, subdued. “Are we done?”

“Yes.” She kept shooting him worried glances all the way back to the car. He pointedly ignored her.

As they made the drive back out through the forest, she sighed. “What’s troubling you?”

Edward looked out the window, trying to think about anything except the taste of gunpowder. He frowned as a though occurred to him. “Are you sure I’m even allowed to carry a gun? You know, considering…”

She frowned in turn, not taking her eyes off the road. “Considering what?” she asked carefully.

Edward chewed on his lower lip. “Well I did try to kill the Fuhrer,” he answered as if it was obvious.

The car skidded to a halt in a spray of gravel and Hawkeye stared at him, her hands gripping the wheel. “You did what?!”

“Oh,” he said, feeling small under her intense gaze. “You didn’t know? I thought it was in my file. Nevermind then.”

She shook her head, never taking her eyes off of him. “No, you don’t get to mention an assassination attempt on the leader of our country casually and say never mind.” There was a dangerous edge to her voice. Maybe target practice wasn’t as ludicrous as he’d thought.

He looked her in the face, trying to gauge her reaction but she was unreadable. Alarmed, for sure, but he couldn’t tell if she was alarmed in a defensive way or a sympathetic one. He was instantly defensive. “Look, all I’m saying is, if I was in charge,” he said throwing his hands up a bit, “I wouldn’t give me gun,” he bit back as a response.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line and she eventually and with great reluctance, tore her eyes off him. “I’ll check to make sure you have the proper clearance,” was all she said as she started driving again.

She knew he did. She’d checked before even suggesting to Mustang that she take the young alchemist out to the firing range. Was he lying then? No, not likely. She and Roy needed to have a conversation.

She was silent and deep in thought on the drive back. Friendly and cordial once they got back to HQ and the staff started filing out for the night. She wished him a good night even if his answer was a subdued and mumbled “you too, Lieutenant.”

And after the young State Alchemist had gone, she knocked on the Colonel’s door and went in. Knocking was just a formality at this point anyway.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted her. “How was the range?”

She gave him a look that spoke volumes. “Enlightening,” she said flatly. We need to talk.

“Oh? The kid’s aim is that bad, is it?”

She shook her head. Not here. “There’s definitely room for improvement, Sir.”

“Hmm,” he agreed. Roy understood her non-verbal language. Of course he would. "That's too bad. I suppose he hasn't had a lot of practice. When I was his age, my father took me out to the field to shoot ducks."

Riza knew that Roy was orphaned at a much younger age than Edward was now. Meet me at the park and we can talk. He told her without saying it. By the duck pond.

"If you don't need me for anything else, I really should get back to work. I have a date at seven,” she said with a curt nod and left.

Later, Riza walked to the park near where she lived and sat down on the bench beside Roy. The ducks parted briefly when she approached but they soon came back. The park was busy with citizens enjoying the warm spring evening and no one paid any attention to the couple sitting on the bench throwing corn for the birds.

“Did you know that Edward attempted to assassinate the Fuhrer?” she said quietly. 

Roy’s hand stopped mid throw as he stared at her. “What?”

“He asked me if he was allowed to carry a gun, considering he’d tried to kill the Fuhrer,” she said carefully.

Roy put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. This was a problem. This was a very big problem and why hadn’t anyone told him! He was going to march into General Gruman’s office and demand answers.

“Why?”

Whether he meant why Edward had done it, why he was here instead of rotting in a cell or six feet under or why he was now Roy’s problem, Riza couldn’t tell.

“It was redacted from his file,” she added, thinking out loud. They’d both seen it, the charge of High Treason in his record. Now they knew why.

“His sentence was obviously commuted,” Riza went on. High Treason was an immediate death sentence which meant that once again, Edward Elric had been spared the firing squad in favour of a lesser sentence. But why?

“Do you think someone knows about our plans for the future of this country?” Roy asked in tone just above a whisper.

It was difficult to say for sure. It could just as well be a strange coincidence that this boy who hated the military so much he’d gone as far as trying to take the head off had landed in Colonel Mustang’s lap. But it could also be a bold and calculated move.

“We’ll just have to keep our eyes open."

Chapter Text

It was a warm evening in Central. Warm enough for Gracia to crack the window and let the warm breeze ruffle the lace curtains as she and her husband sat and enjoyed their evening in their sitting room. Maes was looking over the day’s paper which he hadn’t had time to read yet and she busied herself with her knitting. The radio emitted the evening program of soft music in the corner. They were happy here. The shrill ring of the telephone broke the peace and startled them both. She made to get up but he lay a gentle hand on her arm and rose to his feet with a pop in his spine. The long hours bent over his desk at work did a number on his back.

He turned the dial on the radio and brought down the volume with one hand as he reached for the receiver with the other. “Hughes residence,” he answered. They only had a telephone because of his work; he was on call twenty four hours a day, being one of the lead investigators, and he never knew who might be on the other side of the line. There was silence and the only reason Maes didn’t hang up was because he could hear the person’s soft breathing over the telephone. “Hello?” he asked.

“I punched a thirteen year old in the face today,” the man on the phone said. Maes knew the voice instantly. “Roy?” he asked, his voice a mix of concern and confusion.

“Before I threatened to burn him alive,” the man went on. He sounded amused and bitter at the same time. Oh boy. There was a telling slur to his words.

“Roy…have you been drinking?” he asked quietly. Gracia looked up from her knitting and caught Maes’ eye before tactfully packing up her things and getting to her feet. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek on her way by, mouthed a silent goodnight and disappeared up the stairs. She knew how these conversations went. Maes could spend hours on the phone when Roy was in one of those moods.

“You know what he said to me?” Roy went on not waiting for Maes to answer, “he called me a murderer.”

“Roy, you are not a murderer,” Maes said with force. This conversation was painfully familiar.

“How can you say that Maes, you were there,” the man went on accusingly. “He’s right, you know? That’s the worst part of it. He’s goddamn right.”

“He was right…… so you punched him. In the face.” Maes said slowly. “And threatened to burn him alive,” he added, bringing his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was a long moment of silence. “This wouldn’t happen to be the same thirteen year old you took on, would it?” Maes was pretty sure the boy’s name was Edward. A very young State Alchemist who’d had a few run-ins with the MPs. He grabbed the chair from the hall and brought it over to the telephone. This might be a while, he decided and he sat down with a sigh.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

12 hours earlier…

Colonel Roy Mustang was seething. Not many people at Eastern Command had ever seen the officer like this, but they were quickly reminded how the young man had managed to make such a high rank at such a young age. If you asked a certain janitor who had the gall to make a comment on the Colonel’s muddy boot prints in the polished hall, he’d tell you that the Flame Alchemist could burn you with his glare alone.

Roy was angry. His meeting with General Gruman had not gone well. In fact, it had gone downright disastrously. He’d been told to not stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

Not so bluntly, of course. And the General at least had the decency to look regretful as he told Roy that Fullmetal’s research was classified. That the reason the boy had been spared the firing squad was classified. He did admit that it was Fuhrer Bradley himself who had ordered Fullmetal’s sentence of execution to be commuted to a lighter sentence. Why? It’s classified.

He’d managed to stay polite and agreeable with his superior officer, there was that. But he had worked too hard and too long on putting himself where he wanted to be to have all that come crashing down around him because of some whelp of a boy who was too damn smart for his own good and had zero common sense to keep himself out of trouble.  

When he burst through the door of his outer office, his eyes landed on Edward Elric. He was sitting at a desk beside Riza, a half dismantled gun sprawled over the surface. At the bang of the door, he’d dropped the pieces he’d been fumbling with amid a quiet “fuck”.

In fact, his entrance had made everyone jump but he didn’t care. He pointed at the boy. “You,” he said with as much command as he could muster. “My office, now.”

Edward’s face did a roller coaster of surprise to confusion to spite. He crossed his arms. “I didn’t do it,” he answered automatically.

Roy had zero patience for this right now. He marched up to the younger alchemist and grabbing him by the elbow, yanked him to his feet and manhandled him into his private office.

“Hey! Get your hands off me!”

“Sir!” Riza gave him a reprimanding look but she didn’t try to stop him. Roy ignored them both and slammed the door behind him.

Once inside Edward yanked his arm out of the Colonel’s grip and took on a defensive stance, glaring at the much taller man.

“You’re going to talk,” Roy growled at him, pointing a finger, “and you’re going to tell me everything. What the hell are you playing at?!”

Edward rounded on him, offended. “ME? What’s your deal?”

Roy got close to him, looking down at him directly to his face. “You tried to assassinate the Fuhrer,” he hissed. Edward stood his ground but his demeanor changed now that he had an idea of where this conversation was headed.

“Please,” he said, letting the Colonel’s intimidation roll over him, “you make it sound like I planned it.” He walked around Mustang to put some distance between them. “I honestly didn’t put that much thought into it.”

“No, you don’t seem to put much thought into anything you do, do you?” Roy retorted before he could stop himself.

Edward whirled on him with an obscene gesture. “Fuck you, you overgrown match stick!”

“Really? You’re going to resort to name calling? Grow up!” He was almost shouting now.

Edward was quick with his comeback, raising his voice as well. “Gonna resort to petty insults? What the hell do you want old man?”

“I want to know why you tried to assassinate the Fuhrer!” he repeated incredulously. “What? Did you just wake up one morning and think, <Hey you know what would be fun today? Killing the nation’s top General.>”

Edward shrugged. “Eh, it was more of a last minute decision.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Roy scoffed which earned him a shit eating grin from the younger alchemist.

“Thanks.” Edward was smug and he seemed to know he was getting under the Colonel’s skin. Roy wanted to strangle the boy. He could do it too; they were still within arm’s reach of each other.

“How?” he asked at length, now that he was sure he could keep the urge down. “What happened?”

Edward crossed his arms. “Why d’you want to know?” he asked tauntingly, “You taking notes Colonel?”

Maybe that urge to strangle wasn’t completely gone. He kept his arms pinned to his side as he got into Edward’s personal space and hissed. “I’m not the traitor here.”

Edward was not intimidated in the least. He glared up at Roy and stood firm. “Oh please,” he went on with derision, “you’re really gonna stand there and pretend you love this country after everything they’ve done?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice. “After Ishval?”

Roy grabbed him by the front of his jacket and spun him around a quarter turn, slamming him against the nearest wall. Edward let out a small grunt at the impact and stayed perfectly still as Roy held him there by force so the boy was pinned against the plaster. “Don’t you dare talk to me about Ishval,” he growled with a burning hatred. He was met with an equal fire burning in those golden eyes.

“Or what? You gonna burn me alive?” Edward said acidly. “You’re just too much of a coward to admit that you’re exactly like the rest of them.” Edward’s words were venom. He still managed to look at Roy with superiority despite being the one pinned against a wall by a man three times his size. The kid had nerves of steel. “You’re no hero, you’re a murderer.”

Roy let his fist do the talking. It was not something he was proud of. His mother taught him to settle his battles better than by brawling but damn. This kid.

This kid knew just how to get under his skin in the worst possible ways. Roy’s fist connected solidly with Edward’s jaw and the Fullmetal Alchemist stumbled over sideways with the force of the blow. Roy never let go of the boy’s jacket with his other hand and hauled him back up, this time lifting him right off the floor, which wasn’t hard to do considering their difference in height.

They were at eye level now. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you into ash right here and now,” Roy threatened. He was vaguely aware of the door banging open but his focus was directed solely at this threat in front of him. A threat to all his future goals and everything he’d worked hard for and had endured.

Edward grimaced at the pain blooming on his face. His lip was bleeding but he still managed a sneer. “Like you did during the war? That’s what you’re good at isn’t it? Burning people alive?”

Roy’s blood was boiling. He couldn’t think beyond anything except hurting this kid. But that would make him a murderer, wouldn’t it? He looked the younger alchemist in the eyes and they stayed that way for what seemed like ages. He was met with a burning challenge and determination from the boy, his voice low and dangerous. “You want a reason? Because you’re supposed to be better than them,” he hissed.  “Besides, I’d take you down with me, Colonel.”

It took a second for Roy to realise the implications of that remark, another to feel the pressure against his chest grow into a sharp point of pain. His eyes slid down to the space between their bodies and saw a blade pressed into the cloth of his uniform, right above his heart. The pressure was not so hard that it broke through the material but hard enough that he knew how wickedly sharp that knife was. No, not a knife he noted as his eyes followed the blade up. Fullmetal was not holding it in his hand; rather it was part of his hand. The boy had a concealed weapon in the automail.

They all jumped at the Colonel’s unusual entrance. He was angry. Jean had worked under Roy Mustang for long enough to know with a quick glance that something had thoroughly ticked the man off. When he grabbed Elric and hauled him out of his chair and into the office, he figured obviously the boy had done something.

Riza protested the rough handling but didn’t step in so there was obviously no cause for alarm. He trusted her judgment after all.

They heard the raised voices and still Riza did not get up but she did lift her head and frown at the closed door. Nothing to worry about.

Then a thud that sounded like a body hitting the wall with force and Riza sprang to her feet. It was like an alarm for the rest of the staff. Because if Riza was concerned, they should all be concerned.

She marched to the door while pulling out her service weapon and opened it, standing in the doorway. Jean was on his feet as well and, his desk being the closest, got to the door before the rest. Something made him pause. Riza was looking into the room he couldn’t see yet and she froze, her mouth hanging slightly open, a stricken look on her face. She paused and her usually solid firing stance sagged a fraction.

This alarmed Jean. He wouldn’t deny that Riza was a rock. She was the solid foundation of their team. Nothing fazed that woman except for two subjects the team carefully steered clear of for both her and Roy’s sakes; her father and Ishval. They both got bitter looks in their eyes at the mention of the former and haunted looks at the mention of the later.

Jean, Haymans and Vato had served only on the periphery of the war. Kain had been too young. But Roy and Riza had been on the front lines. This was the haunted look.

He took over. Stepping into the room, he quickly assessed the situation even if it didn’t make sense. Roy, holding the boy against the wall and Elric holding the knife pressed into the Colonel’s chest. He drew his weapon without hesitation.

“Put the knife down, now!” he ordered. Neither of them moved. Seconds later, Heymans was at his back and moving into the room a little ways to get a better angle. When Jean was certain the other man had him covered, he holstered his gun and crossed the room in two long strides, clamping his hand down on the wrist holding the knife. He was surprised to feel a rock solid joint instead of the fleshy and bony one he’d been expecting but he didn’t let it faze him.

“I said,” he said, getting into the boy’s line of sight, “drop the knife.” This seemed to jolt Elric out of his focus on Roy and, without moving his head, he slid his eyes sideways to watch Jean.

“Colonel, put him down,” he ordered next. In this moment he didn’t give a rat’s ass that he was giving an order to his commanding officer. If he could manage to stop the two of them from killing each other, that would be a win in his books. Roy, it seemed, didn’t care either because he obeyed the order, lowering his arm until Fullmetal’s boots touched the ground.

Roy backed away until he bumped into his desk, horrified.

Jean wasted no time. With the grip he still had on Elric’s wrist, he quickly got behind him and took his knees out from behind with a practiced ease. Within a fraction of a second, he had the boy pinned to the carpet, one knee on his back and a solid grip on the boy’s hands: the flesh one twisted and held down behind his back and the one still gripping the knife pinned to the carpet. “Drop the knife kid,” he commanded gently but firmly.

Elric twisted his face enough to look back at him. “I can’t,” he growled. He had blood on his chin and the carpet had a new smear of red where his face was pressed against it.

Jean spared the Colonel a sideways glance. “You okay Boss?” he asked. He got no response. “Colonel?”

When Roy didn’t answer he risked taking his eyes off his target to stare at the man. There was no blood so that was a good sign. “Roy!”

The man snapped out of it. “I’m fine,” he responded with a frown.

“What are your orders, Sir?” There was a heaviness to the question. Roy had the authority to have Fullmetal arrested for this stunt.

He let out a bone-weary sigh and after a few tense seconds he said “Let him go.”

Jean stared at him stupidly. “What?” Because really? What the fuck just happened?

Roy seemed to step back into himself and said with much more confidence, “let him go. I provoked him first. This was my fault, he was defending himself.”

“Okay, but,” and this time he looked down at Elric who was still glaring at him over his shoulder. “Drop the knife first,” he said firmly.

“I told you, I can’t.”

Jean looked to Roy for confirmation because letting go of an attacker who was still gripping a knife went strongly against his gut instinct. He carefully loosed his grip on the metal arm and when the kid made no sudden moves, he got up and let him go. Besides, Heymans still had his gun trained on the alchemist.

Elric sat up and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve but he just managed to smear the blood. His lip was swelling now too. He shot Roy a murderous glare before pressing his hands together and letting his left slide over the back of his automail hand. The blade melted back under his sleeve and Roy frowned at it. Jean had seen his fair share of concealed weapons and there was something that didn’t seem quite right with that one.

Roy seemed to agree. “Fullmetal, take off your jacket,” he ordered.

“Fuck you,” the boy spat. He was sitting on the carpet with the look of a feral animal whose only options were to bite or bolt. Roy didn’t seem to trust himself to approach so he gave Jean a sharp look. “Havoc,” he said, with a clear command he didn’t have to spell out. Search him.

 Jean approached and made a start for the red coat but Fullmetal jerked away, springing to his feet. Jean held his hands out and open. “Either you take it off or I take it off. Your choice,” he said evenly.

To his relief the kid, after a quick scan told him he was surrounded, complied. He twisted his arms out of the sleeves of the red coat, threw it down petulantly and gave Jean such a look with attitude that the man almost rolled his eyes. He was wearing a long sleeved jacket under that and Jean pointed at it next.

Elric rolled his eyes and took that off too. “Want me to take my pants off next?” he retorted, throwing that down next to the red coat.

“Hell no,” the older man answered easily trying to take the tension out of the room. “Don’t give me nightmares, kid.”

He carefully approached, lifted the boy’s arms straight out on either side and gave him a pat down. No concealed weapons though it was hard to tell with the automail leg. The arm was next. He examined it very closely and though he was not an expert with automail, he felt confident when he turned to the Colonel and shook his head. No sign of the knife.

Roy frowned. “How about arrays?” he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Elric’s.

The boy grinned smugly.

“Nope,” Jean reported, “nothing.” The automail was just a plain metal limb with gears and wires and bolts.

“You did that with alchemy,” Roy said with confidence. “Where are you hiding your arrays?”

Even with all eyes and a gun on him, Edward Elric managed to lift his chin with an arrogant air. “Don’t have any,” he said with a careless shrug.

Roy was not having it but he forced himself to remain calm. “Every alchemist needs a transmutation circle to transmute,” he said. It was almost an accusation. “Where are yours?” he asked again with contained frustration.

Elric was enjoying this thoroughly. “Don’t need ‘em,” he said.

“That’s bullshit!” Roy made a move towards the boy but Jean stepped between them with a pointed look. He understood that the kid could be infuriating but the Colonel was clearly not in his right mind right now. Roy took a deep calming breath. “I’ve never heard of performing alchemy without a circle,” he added forcefully instead.

Elric rolled his eyes. “That’s because we’re not on the same level,” he retorted arrogantly.

Jean turned to him next and pinned him with the same look his mother had used on him countless times when he was being a know-it-all smartass. Elric looked satisfyingly chastised by it.

The boy huffed in exasperation. “You can look all you want but you’re not gonna find any arrays on my body. I told you, I don’t need them. I am my own circle,” he said crossing his arms. Jean was not going to start trying to unpack that statement because first of all, he was no alchemist. Secondly, by the look Roy was giving the kid Jean understood that this approach to alchemy was unheard of at best.

“I think,” he said with a forced calm, “we all need to take a step back and cool our heads.”

Elric scoffed and picked his clothes up off the floor. He used the red jacket to wipe the rest of the blood off his face, smart.

Roy frowned and looked up, seeming to notice the rest of his team crowded into his office for the first time. His eyes were dark and murderous. “You’re right,” he said in a low voice. “Get out. All of you.”

The kid did not need to be told twice. He was first out of the office. The others exchanged perplexed and meaningful looks before filing out. Jean lingered a moment longer, the gaze he swept over his commander was calculating with a touch of pity. When Roy continued to stare at him pointedly, he ducked his head and left meeting Riza’s eyes on his way out.

She was the last to leave but the fact that she left at all, without saying a word to the Flame Alchemist spoke volumes. Edward was nowhere in sight when he made it back to his desk and dropped down in his chair with an exhausted sigh. There were a few drops of dried blood on the back of his hand. What a morning.  “I need a smoke,” he declared, getting up again. No one protested.

Jean sauntered down the long hall and made a quick stop to the washrooms to clean hi hand. He was genuinely surprised the find the blond alchemist standing by the farthest sink, leaning close to the mirror and holding a wet kerchief to his swollen face, working his jaw. The boy looked over at the sound of the door opening and scowled when he noticed who it was.

Jean held both hands up in a truce. “Hey, I’m not following you, promise,” he said. “Just came to take a piss.”

Edward said nothing and after a while turned away to focus back on the mirror. Jean went into the stall to do his business and when he came back out, the boy had both thumb and index finger of his left hand pushed to the back of his mouth. The Lieutenant approached the sinks cautiously staring the whole way and Edward looked over at him when he turned the water on. Their eyes met for a brief moment and the boy froze.  

“Um, what are you doing?” he asked, somewhere between concern and alarm as he noticed how much blood was smeared on the boy’s hand which he currently had jammed into his mouth.

Edward garbled something around his fingers, then rolled his eyes at the Lieutenant’s blank look and leaned over the sink. With a pained grunt, he took his hand out, letting the running water wash it clean as he spat more blood into the vessel.

He quickly flicked the taps off, bringing the kerchief back to his jaw with a grimace. He never said a word until he passed Jean on his way out, stuck his closed fist out to him as if to give him something. Jean instinctively held his hand up to accept it and the boy dropped something small into the palm of the older man’s hand with a grumpy fucking Colonel.

The door slammed shut behind him and Jean was left standing alone in the men’s washroom holding his hand up flat, palm up and looking perplexed at the gift the boy had given him.

It was a tiny molar.

 He held onto it while he went out for his cigarette and when he came back, he place it gently on Hawkeye’s desk with a pointed look at her followed by a pointed look at the Colonel’s closed door.

She closed her eyes, let out a long breath through her nose and Jean knew that Riza and Roy would have words.

“Ok, so after she chewed you out for an hour, what? You went home and started drinking?” Maes leaned his head against the wall. The clock had chimed midnight not ten minutes ago and he’d much rather be in his warm comfortable bed next to his wife than still be on the phone with Roy. But that was part of being a best friend, to lend your ear when it is needed.

“I had dinner first,” Roy protested in his defence.

Maes was silent for a long moment. “I wouldn’t feel too bad, that tooth was probably loose already. Kids are still losing molars at that age. I lost my last tooth when I was almost fourteen.”

Roy sighed on the line. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better but the way I acted was unacceptable.”

“Is this you talking or Riza?” he joked.

“Both.” Another self-loathing sigh. “I’m still trying to decide if he’s purposefully trying to sabotage my career or if he’s just an asshole.”

Maes took his glasses off to rub at his eyes. “Talk to him,” he said bluntly.

Roy scoffed. “Every time I try to talk to him I want to punch him in his stupid smart mouth,” he admitted bitterly. ”Kid thinks he’s God’s gift to mankind. He’s so smart though.”  A sigh. “Wasted potential. I mean the kid’s probably a goddamned prodigy and what is he doing with that? Being stupid. Getting himself arrested. Antagonising a mass murdering alchemist that was known for burning people alive.”

Maes flinched because they both knew the last bit was uncomfortably close to true. The only nuance being the word murderer and that only depended on which side of the war you were on.

“God’s gift to mankind, huh? Sounds like you.” There was silence and Maes could easily picture the vile expression on his friend’s face. “Sounds like he needs a bit of guidance,” he added gently.

“Gruman said the same thing. I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that. We’re nothing alike,” Roy whined. Maes had only ever heard the man whine like that when he was drunk.

“Go to bed Roy,” he said firmly like he was speaking to a disobedient child. “In the morning take a shower, eat something and find him. Apologise for knocking his teeth out.”

There was an indignant scoff but Roy said nothing.

“And I will be calling Riza to check on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“It’s either Riza or your mother, you pick,” he said mercilessly.

There was a long pause and Maes heard the clinking of bottles as Roy shuffled around.

“Riza,” he said at last with resignation. The lesser of two evils, good choice.

Maes paused for a moment and added much more quietly. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m always here for you. Just a phone call away.”

“I know.”

“Good. So if you don’t mind, I have a beautiful sexy woman waiting for me in my bed and I would very much like to go see her right now.”

Roy chuckled. “Spare me,” he said with mock revolt. After another long pause he said “Thanks.”

“Good night Roy.”

Thanks for reading.

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

May 20, 19xx

Dear Al,

                I lost my last molar today. It had a bit of help and before you say anything, I did not go looking for trouble this time. Mustang had a stick up his ass or something, barging in and throwing me around. He punched me! He actually decked me in the face, the asshole. I might have said some stuff to him that were not very nice but that’s beside the point.

Not like I can do anything about it. It’s not the first time I’ve been banged around and it’s by far not the worst beating I’ve taken but I guess I thought things would be different here. At least you’re safe. I got the progress report from the hospital. I’m sorry I’m not able to help more with your recovery but I promise I’m doing everything I can from my end. I also paid the bill so you’re all squared up for the next year. I got the nurse’s list too; looks like you’re outgrowing your clothes, huh? I’m planning to do some shopping and will send you anything you need. I picked up some books for you in Central too, maybe Nurse Alice will read some of it to you.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to coming to see you but it won’t be for a while. Between my assessment coming up and this basic training bullshit I’m kept very busy.

Stay safe, little brother.

Love Ed.

Chapter Text

When Edward rolled out of bed with a groan, the sun was already high in the sky and the bright light filtered through the flimsy curtains casting his room is a soft ethereal glow. Everything hurt. His face throbbed in time with his leg. Muscles he didn’t even know existed screamed in protest as he moved and his shoulder burned. He stifled a sharp cry as he reached for his shirt, the motion stretching the tender skin around his shoulder port. The doctor had warned him not to rush his recovery. Automail grafting is no joke the doctor had said. He was pretty sure he’d told the old man to go fuck himself but those days were hazy at best. The truth was Edward couldn’t wait that long because every minute he spent lying prone in a hospital bed was one minute too many that Al spent languishing in the hell he’d put him in.

He tried to take a deep breath but the muscles spasmed around his ribcage where the bolts met bone and his breath caught sending him into a fit of coughing which only made things worse. He gripped the headboard as he calmly took in careful breaths and fumbled through his bag for his prescription. The medicine helped dull the pain but it tended to upset his stomach so he didn’t like taking it.

He flopped down on the bed with a groan and waited for the drug to do its job and when he felt like he could peel himself off the mattress without puking, he got up and took a shower. Today was his only rest day but it wasn’t much of a day for fun. He needed to work on his research which he’d neglected since his first day at the academy.

The hot water and the medicine got him moving again and he deftly braided his hair, brushed his teeth (gently) and scowled at the mirror when he noticed the dark bruising around his jaw. He tilted his head this way and that, examining it. His lip was a bit puffy still but the swelling had gone down overnight. There were dark circles under his eyes and puffy, angry redness where metal met skin on his shoulder. With a final grimace he turned away from his reflection and got dressed.

Outside, the street was busy with casual shoppers. It was also lunch time and the cafes and restaurants along the street were filled. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold anything down but he needed to eat something so he ducked into a bakery to buy some cheese buns and ate them while walking. He passed by a display window showing a mannequin of a smartly dressed young man and he hesitated. His steps slowed and he actually backed up a few paces to examine it more closely. It was pricey but for his little brother, he’d willingly spend it. He rummaged through his bag until he found the letter from the hospital and went in to speak to the clerk.

“Would you like try these on?” the man asked politely even though he was eyeing the boy’s choice of black leather, worn combat boots and gaudy belt with consternation.

Edward crammed the rest of his pastry into his mouth. “Nah, it’s for someone else. Just get me these sizes,” he said around his mouthful and handed the slip of paper over. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

The man made a snobbish face. “Very well, sir.”

When the clerk's back was turned, Edward mimicked the man's snooty expression mouthing the words very well sir to himself followed by a snort of laughter that he quickly stifled when the man came back with the clothes. Edward hated coming into these shops but Al deserved the best so he put up with the snobbery. Barely.

With a smartly wrapped paper packet under one arm and his rucksack of books and notes over his left shoulder, he limped walked the remaining five blocks to the library. The woman behind the desk smiled politely at him. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

“I need access to the uppers floors,” he said without preamble. She opened her mouth, probably to tell him that those were restricted to military personnel only but he’d been down this road before and had his credentials ready. She examined them closely, looking up at him, comparing his face to his identification card. “Do you have your watch with you, Fullmetal?” she asked after consideration.

He showed her the watch and she nodded, handing him back his papers along with his pass. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Yeah, I’ll take one of the private study rooms too,” he said, shifting his load with a grimace to put his things away.

“Very well, room 103 is free,” she said handing him a key. “The study rooms close an hour before the library so you’ll need to be out by 8 pm.”

He offered her a charming smile. “Thanks.”

See? I can be nice.

The study room was small and consisted of a single table, two chairs and a low hanging light in the middle. There were no windows and the only things that made it more cheerful than an interrogation room was the carpet under his feet, the dark wood chair rail that snaked around the room and the bland artwork on the cream coloured wall. With a sigh, Edward dropped his things in the corner, grabbed his notebook and a pencil and set off to find some books.

When Roy rolled out of bed, he felt like shit. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, trying to decide if he wanted to shave then shower and have coffee or if it would be safer to have coffee first. He was used to the hangover but being used to something awful didn’t make it any more pleasant. He decided on coffee then shave, then shower and then maybe more coffee and toast because he’d promised Maes he’d eat something.

While he waited for his bread to toast, leaning his head miserably against the kitchen cupboard, the phone rang and he winced at the noise.

“Hello?”

“Well I’m glad to know you didn’t poison yourself last night.”

“Good morning Riza,” he said blandly.

“Maes called me this morning,” she went on. Of course he did. He had no idea what the two of them had talked about but he could hear the concern in her voice. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Nothing I can’t handle,” he said grumpily.

There was a long pause on the phone, then, “Edward told me he was planning to go to the library today.”

Right. That was the other thing he’d promised Maes. Find the boy, apologise. Right.

“Behave yourself, Sir,” she warned and the line dropped with a click.  Roy was left staring at the receiver stupidly before he hung it back up on its cradle with a sigh. This would be fun.

The bright sunlight and noise of the busy street assaulted his senses but he took the trolley across town and got off two blocks from the library. It was an imposing building and he wondered how he’d ever find the kid in there, if he was even here.

As it turned out, Roy had no trouble finding Edward in the library. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but as soon as he walked in he spotted the very top of a golden head peaking up from the other side of the row of card catalogues in the middle of the cavernous building. He gave the receptionist a charming smile which she returned with a blush and sauntered over to lean on the wooden cabinet. Roy waited a second, feeling a rush of shame at the visible bruise on the kid’s jaw, but Edward was too focused on the little cards as he flipped through them and gave no indication he’d noticed someone watching him.

“I figured I’d find you here,” he said quietly. It was a library after all.

Edward visibly startled at the sound. His eyes darted up to meet Roy’s and the surprise turned into a scowl. Obviously he was still angry. Fair.

“What do you want,” he said as he slammed the tiny drawer closed with unnecessary force and moved onto the next one. Flick, flick, flick went the cards and Edward never looked up to him again.

He picked absently at his fingernail and reminded himself that he was the adult here. “I came to apologise for the way I acted yesterday,” he said with deliberate calmness. “It was highly unprofessional of me.”

The flicking of the cards stopped as Edward stared up at him in disbelief.

“And also for knocking your teeth out,” he added with a touch of shame.

After a moment, Edward scoffed and rolled his eyes, continuing his search through the cards. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said closing the small drawer more carefully and moving onto the next. “It was one tooth and it was already loose.” After a few more moments of silence he glanced up at the Colonel quickly through his bangs. “You look like shit,” he said.

Roy assessed the dark circles under the boy’s eyes with a raised eyebrow. “I had a rough night, what’s your excuse? You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” he remarked dryly.

Edward’s hands paused on the cards. “I haven’t,” he said quietly and Roy wasn’t sure if he’d been meant to hear that. Edward found what he was looking for and jotted down the call number for the book. His pencil paused on the paper and he didn’t look at Roy when he spoke. “Nights are….not easy sometimes, you know?”

“I do know,” he said. Did he ever.

Edward chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he considered the Colonel. “I’m sorry too, for uh.. saying….what I said. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain.” He ducked his head down again and shrugged one shoulder. “I had it coming,” he said, resigned.

Roy nodded to show he appreciated that. This had gone better than expected. He eyed the boy suspiciously because in his opinion things had gone too well, almost like Edward was just humouring him. But all he saw on his young subordinate’s face was fatigue, resignation and pain. “Well, since we’re being civil,” he said casually as he turned to lean his back against the cabinet, keeping an eye on his surroundings out of a paranoid habit, “I’d like to sit down and talk alchemy with you, if you don’t mind.”

Edward looked up at him sharply and considered this for a moment. “Fine, but not here,”
 he said lowly, jotting down another number. “I have a study room.”

Roy nodded and waited for the boy to finish flipping through the small cards, writing down three more numbers before gathering his things.

“Here,” he said as he dumped five or six books he’d already gathered into Roy’s arms. “Make yourself useful, since you’re here.”

Before he could protest, the boy was off in a whirl of red coat and stubby braid. He followed Edward like a pack mule as the kid went up and down the library aisles grabbing his books. Roy had plenty of time to read the spines of the tomes in his arms. The Teachings of Xian Tung, Gardening for the soul, The Philosophy of the Mind, Body & Soul and a fourth book written in a language he didn’t even recognise.

By the time they were outside study room 103, Roy had four more books on his pile and a grumpy frown on his face. He could hardly complain, especially since he hadn’t missed the limp in Edward’s step or the way he hissed in pain when reaching up for a book with his right hand.

The library was quiet already but once the door of the private study room closed the silence became oppressive. He looked around in wonder and Edward smirked.

“What? Never stepped foot in a library before?” he snarked.

“Actually no. I’ve never had reason to,” Roy answered truthfully. Master Hawkeye had all the books he’d ever needed in his private library and he’d never been a bookish kind of person to begin with. Edward rolled his eyes and plopped himself down in the chair he’d obviously vacated earlier, pushing the other chair out with his foot from under the table.

“So? What do you want?” The boy looked at him like a cat watching a mouse. The eye colour didn’t help.

Roy fiddled with the change in his pocket, unsure of how to start this conversation considering how well things had gone yesterday. His eyes landed on the books. Most of them were not in Amestrian. “How’s the research going?” he asked casually, taking a seat.

Edward made a sour expression. “Not great,” he admitted. “But I doubt you came here to help me translate ancient Xingese written by dead old philosophers so I’ll ask again, what do you want?”

Roy smirked. “I do know Xingese, as a matter of fact,” he said lightly.

Edward shot him a startled look. “Wait, what?” He pulled the books a little closer to his side of the table protectively which made the older man chuckle a little.

“I don’t know why that surprises you,” he said with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Edward bristled. “Well, whatever, you can’t help. It’s-“

“Classified? I know,” he cut in flatly. Roy leaned back, hands in his lap as he thought about how to approach this. His head was pounding a bit but he did his best to ignore it. “So,” he said after a moment, “alchemy without an array huh? Sounds pretty far-fetched.”

Edward opened his mouth to say something but the Colonel cut him off. “I can tell you’re a person who values fairness,” he went on, pulling one of his ignition gloves from his pocket and placing it gently on the table. Edward eyed it hungrily. He kept his hand on it until the boy looked up to meet his dark eyes. “Tell me how it works and I’ll let you have a closer look at my glove. It’s only fair.”

Edward scowled but nodded at the deal. “I use my body to complete the circle of the array,” he said easily like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Roy frowned as he tried to wrap his head around that. “Okay,” he said slowly, not moving his hand. “But…what about the rest of it?”

“Huh?”

“You know,” he twirled the finger of his free hand in a wiggly circle to help illustrate what he meant. “the inner workings of the array? The actual transmutation part??”

A devilish smirk appeared on the boy’s face which was made even more sinister by the dark bruising on one side of his face. He tapped one finger to his temple. “All in here.”

Roy stared at the young alchemist in front of him and saw him with new eyes. The amount of computing power required for that, even with the simplest transmutation, was incredible. “You’re not limited to earth and metal are you?” he said as it occurred to him. “That’s just what’s on paper but you’re clearly capable of so much more.”

Edward nodded. “So long as I understand the array, know the runes and can do the math I can visualise the transmutation and use my body to complete the array.”

Roy realised belatedly that he was staring with his mouth slightly open. Holy shit. No wonder the military couldn’t afford to kill this kid, he would be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. After an awkward moment of silence he noticed how Edward’s eyes were darting from his face to the glove on the table and he took his hand away with a sigh hoping he didn’t regret this.

The younger alchemist snatched the glove greedily. “I told you we’re not on the same level,” he stated as a simple fact with none of the boasting from yesterday.

Yes, Roy was beginning to see that. “You’re a very smart young man, aren’t you?” he said flatly as he watched the boy examine every inch of his glove like a new mother watches someone handle her baby.

“I’m a goddamn genius,” he was quick to reply. There was that cocky attitude.

Roy successfully resisted the urge to roll his eyes and crossed his arms instead. “Yeah, I got that,” he muttered wryly.

“D’you come up with this?” Edward interjected as if Roy hadn’t said anything. He was examining every meticulous stitch of the flame array with calculating eyes. Roy hesitated because he was not used to sharing this information but a deal was a deal.

“No, I had a master,” he answered evenly.

“Huh,” was all he said. Golden eyes darted to him then back to the glove. A crease appeared between the boy’s eyebrows that was not quite a frown and Roy knew he was trying to work it out.

“Don’t even think about trying flame alchemy,” he said gravely. “Genius or not, fire is volatile and dangerous.”

Edward actually rolled his eyes at this. “Right,” he said sarcastically.

“I mean it,” Roy pressed.

“Relax, I don’t even recognise these runes, let alone know the equation that went into it, okay? Did your master come up with this?”

Roy thought about Master Hawkeye living in that big house with his daughter, locking himself in his study, paranoid and protective of his work until the very end. He had no doubt that given time and resources, Edward Elric could figure it out. He was once again glad that his master’s library had burned to the ground along with Hawkeye Manor.

“Yes he did. He was a brilliant man but he was also a bit mad.” Roy watched the intense focus with which Edward was studying the glove. “It didn’t end well for him, being a genius,” he added quietly.

Edward’s hands froze for a fraction of a second and he let out a mirthless chuckle, rubbing his thumb over the rough texture of the ignition cloth. “Yeah, almost didn’t end well for me either,” he said ruefully. The oppressive silence fell over them again and Edward laid the glove down on the table.

If you want him to open up to you, you’ve got to open up to him in return. It’s only fair. Maes’ words from last night came back to him and he took a deep breath. Talking alchemy was easy. This... well this was a whole other can of worms.

“You said you expected me to be better,” he said after a while. “Better than them?”

Edward refused to look him in the eye.

“I am,” he insisted with conviction. “Or at least I’m trying. What we State Alchemists did during the war was atrocious and I regret every minute of it.”

The silence dragged on. Edward was not interrupting him so he took that as a good sign and went on. “Did you know that before you came along I was the youngest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris?”

That got a reaction from the boy. Edward looked up with surprise. “No,” he said and cleared his throat, fiddling with his pencil and looking his age for once. “How old were you, when you certified?”

“Nineteen, just about twenty.”

He went back to staring at his notebook. “Huh, guess I thought you were older.”

Roy let that one slide. “Three years after I got my watch, Order 3066 was declared and I was sent directly to the front lines. I joined the State Alchemist program because I wanted to use my power to help people. The State saw my potential and thought only of how best to use it as a weapon,” he said bitterly. “After the war I made a promise that I’d rise to the top so I can make changes for the better. The people of Amestris deserve better.”

He watched Edward and saw how young he was and he felt the drive for that change tenfold. “The difference between us is that I was an adult when I became a human weapon. You’re still a child. How do you know that this,” he waved a hand over the spread of books on the table, “whatever research you’re doing for the military won’t just be turned into another weapon that slaughters people?”

Edward looked away and Roy knew that though he was young, he wasn’t naïve enough to think the military wasn’t using his work for atrocious things.

“I have to wonder,” Roy went on quietly, “why you’re doing it and don’t give me any of that I was ordered to bullshit. There’s clearly no love lost between you and the military.”

Edward’s leg was bouncing and he wet his lips. Roy recognised these as nervous ticks and filed them away for future reference. After a few painful moments of oppressive silence in the small room, Edward met his eyes with that same fierce determination he’d seen the first day they met. “I’m doing it for my brother,” he said firmly.

“To keep him safe?” Roy knew this already. The boy’s brother was clearly caught up in some sort of extortion.

Edward scowled at the reminder. “Well yes, but I’m doing the research because I have to figure out a way to….to fix things with him.” He let out a weary sigh. “I….a few years ago we- I messed up.”

We messed up. Roy catalogued the slip up for later reference as well.

“I made a mistake and barely got out of it alive,” Edward admitted, this time tapping his metal thumb against the table with a dull thunk.

“An alchemical mistake?” Roy ventured.

Edward nodded and he understood. “A rebound.”

“A bad one,” the boy confirmed with a grimace. “It’s how I got hurt. But Al was caught up in it too.” Edward closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “He got it way worse than me,” he said sadly.

“Where is your brother now?” he asked. This was good. This was more information than he could have hoped for and if Edward was willing to open up, he needed to keep the boy talking.

“At a private hospital north east of the city.” tap tap tap went the thumb. “He’s a ward of the State so after we….after the accident when I was arrested, they hauled him away and-” His voice hitched and he frowned at the betrayal, forcing it back into a steady tone. “I didn’t find out until after I got out of rehab and got my licence but he’d been taken to East City Asylum.”

Oh.

“As soon as I could, I got him out of there,” Edward said with force, “and now I pay for him to stay at a Convalescent Home with a full time nurse instead. I couldn’t just leave him there,” he added with a touch of defensiveness.

Roy nodded. “That’s good. You did good, Fullmetal. Do you go see him?”

Edward shook his head. “No,” he said shortly, the paper scrunching a little. He looked like he wanted to say more but bit his tongue and Roy knew that was as far as he’d get on that topic. For today.

“What happened in Central?” he asked instead, smoothly changing the subject.

Edward still refused to look him in the eye.

“Look, whatever your reasons were for trying to kill the Fuhrer, I need to know where you stand,” he said gravely. “I told you I wanted to rise to the top to change this country.” He waited until Edward looked him in the eye because a lot hinged on the answer the boy would give him. “I can’t do it alone. Every single man and woman on my team has pledged to support me in this goal. They’re prepared to do whatever it takes,” he added with significant gravity.

Edward shifted in his chair and a mirthless smile appeared on his face. “Everyone except me, right?”

“Exactly. So I’ll ask you this once and once only. Where do you stand, Fullmetal?”

To his credit, the boy held his gaze with an equal level of intensity. “I want this country to change,” he said with conviction and Roy smiled.

“Then I do believe we have something in common. Just…leave the planning to me alright?” he added with an amused smirk. Edward rolled his eyes.

“It was one time!” he shot back defensively.

At Roy’s raised eyebrow, he went on without being asked. “After I was arrested for trying to leave the country I was sent back to Central Max and spent a month in solitary,” he offered in a huff and Roy winced. He’d never had the pleasure of being locked in a small cell for a month with only his thoughts for company but he could just imagine.

“When they brought me out, I was dragged into an interrogation room and he was there.”

“The Führer?”

“The fucking Führer,” Edward went on. “You know what he said to me? He lectured me on pride for the cause and patriotism and all that bullcrap and the entire time all I could think about was running a knife through his goddamn gut. I was pissed,” he seethed.

Roy closed his eyes and let out a long breath through his nose because he knew where this was going. “So you attacked him?”

“Yeah, I fucking attacked him. The idiot was in there with me and no guards,” Edward spread his hands at the stupidity.

“Obviously it didn’t work,” Roy remarked dryly.

Edward huffed and crossed his arms. “I nicked him though,” he shrugged with his left shoulder. “Drew blood,” he said as if that made it better. “Anyway, the warden wanted to take me out to the yard and shoot me then and there but Bradley stepped in. Said I couldn’t learn my place if I was dead.”

Roy frowned. It seemed as if the Fuhrer had simply taken a personal liking to the boy. “He agreed to take me out to the yard alright but not to shoot me,” he said with a grimace. He looked up to meet the Colonel’s eyes. “Ever been whipped before?”

Roy shook his head. They only whipping he had experience with was the yardstick his grade school teacher had used to rap his knuckles as a boy. He couldn’t even remember the offence but he remembered the sting.

“Fifty lashes,” Edward spat bitterly. His shoulders tensed at the memory. “Ten lashes every day for five days in a row and the fucker just stood there and watched.” He scoffed in derision. “After that they dragged my sorry ass back into solitary and left me there for two more months. Felt like I was gonna die.”

Roy was quiet for a long moment. Fifty lashes on a grown man was excessive in his opinion. Fifty lashes on a child was just downright cruel. “I’m sorry you had to endure that, I really am. All the more reason why things need to change.”

Edward nodded. “Yeah, but what do you need me for? You’ve already got a whole team under you.”

“You’re part of this team now whether you like it or not. Equivalent exchange right? You’re a formidable alchemist Fullmetal. You help me when I need you and I’ll help you stay out of trouble so you can help your brother. Do we have a deal?”

The metal thumb started tapping again but stopped when Edward realised he was doing it. “Fine,” he said with resignation. “Guess I need you to handle the red tape and stuff.”

“And stuff, yes,” Roy answered wryly. He got up from his chair with a stretch, pocketing his glove. “Well, this was a nice chat but I should get going. Just…don’t do anything stupid?”

Edward gave him a bland and innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean Colonel.”

“Right,” he said flatly. He was aware of the golden eyes on his back as he walked to the door. This was progress. This was good. “If you need any help with your brother’s care, don’t be afraid to ask,” he added after a moment. Edward didn’t answer but Roy didn’t linger any longer and left.

See Maes? I can be nice.

Hundreds of kilometres away, tucked away in the basement levels of Central Command, Captain Maes Hughes sneezed suddenly. His assistant looked up startled but then smiled.

“Someone must be talking about you.”

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

As soon as Mustang left, Edward buried himself in his research. Decoding another alchemist’s notes was already a bit of a pain though he did enjoy the challenge on a certain level. But trying to decode another alchemist’s notes from a language he didn’t speak three centuries removed was a new kind of hell. It involved painstakingly translating what amounted to nonsense into some form of coherent nonsense before he could even begin to make sense sense of it.

The pain medication wore off a while ago too which made him hunch over the table in irritation. He lost himself in his work until a knock at the door snapped him out of his feverish study haze and he blinked in surprise. The librarian stood in the hallway when he peeked out, her mouth set in an unimpressed line.

“It’s thirty minutes past eight young man,” she said tartly.

Edward rubbed his eye with his left hand. “Really? Sorry. I uh-” he looked around at the mess he’d made. “Guess I should pack up then.”

Her stern expression softened a bit. “If you’d like you can reserve the room for another day, it will remain locked,” she told him but he shook his head.

“Thanks but I don’t think I can come back until next week. But can I check some of this out?”

The older woman let herself in and picked up the nearest title, flipping to the inside front cover and shook her head as her eyes scanned the library information stamped there. “This is from the restricted section so no, I’m afraid these are not to be loaned.” She shuffled through the books and pulled up the one about gardening. “Oh, you can borrow this one, it’s not restricted. I’ll check it out for you.”

Edward accepted the book and piled it on top of his papers.

“Don’t worry about the others,” she said impatiently, “I’ll put them away.” Edward wasn’t sure if she was being kind or just wanted him out of there faster but it didn’t matter. He’d already deemed most of these books useless anyway.

He handed the key back to her and swept his eyes over the room one last time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything before leaving. Outside, the sun had set but it wasn’t quite the dark of night yet. The air was warm, stale and muggy.

Resigned, he started his long trek. Walking sucked and by the time the gates around the residential compound came into view, he’d started a considerable limp. The guard at the gate recognised him, offered a kind smile and let him pass without issue. He thought he was doing pretty good, all things considered, until he got to the stairs. He stopped at the top of the first flight and sat heavily on the landing. He’d forgotten about the stairs. And his room was on the third floor.

You’re a lot of things, Ed, but you’re not a quitter. Up you get.

Edward buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Will you shut up? ‘m just taking a break.”

The stairwell’s silence felt too loud in his ears and he moved his hands down to wrap around his arms and leaned his forehead against his knee in misery. After about five minutes he got up and steadily climbed the rest of the stairs with steely determination.

No, he was not a quitter.

After grabbing his things he called a taxicab from the lobby and waited with the guard outside the gate.

“I think it’ll storm soon,” the man chatted amiably. “The air is stifling. A good storm will clear it up.”

Edward turned his eyes upward to the sky with a frown. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and yet... “Yeah. Sure feels like it, huh?”

It was very late when he got to campus. Apparently the gates were locked at 2200 sharp and it was 10:32, by his watch. Unlike HQ, there wasn’t a guard but Edward didn’t think it would be wise to break into the academy’s front gate in plain view. So he broke in a little ways down the tall stone wall that surrounded the property instead.

Placing his hands on the rough surface, he molded the stone to form an opening just wide enough for him to pass through then closed it off behind him with a smirk of self-satisfaction. He crossed the lawn as quickly as he could and hoped the doors weren’t locked too, not that it mattered anyway.

The first door he tried was, thankfully, unlocked and he let himself in. Curfew was not until 2300 so he knew he wouldn’t get in trouble for being out and about but it still felt wrong somehow. His uneven footsteps echoed eerily in the empty halls as he made his way quickly to his dorm. There were more signs of life the closer he got to the living quarters. He got mixed reactions from the cadets he met along the way; from a friendly “Hey Elric” to a polite nod to outright staring.

One cadet shoved passed him with deliberate aggression, using his elbow to force the smaller alchemist to stumble out of the way. He and his buddies snickered immaturely as they went.

 “Watch it,” Edward snapped, rounding on him, because no one shoves him and gets to just walk away.

The cadet stopped and turned to look down on him. “Or what, freak? Gonna go cry to your mommy?” the young man jeered which earned him snickers from his friends.

Edward stared him down. “You’re the one’s going to be crying to his mommy by the time I’m through with you,” he growled.

The cadet narrowed his eyes among the ooohs that came from the steadily growing onlookers. “I’m not afraid of you, half-pint,” he sneered.

Edward’s fists clenched. He wanted to pummel this punk with his automail fist, he really did. But he was still in a considerable amount of pain right now and he wanted his bed. Next time, he promised the young man silently. Next time you’re gonna eat my fist you sorry son of a bitch. Instead he levelled the cadet with a steely golden gaze that was much too old for such a young face.

“You should be,” he said dangerously and walked away.

He knew he was painting a target on his back but at this moment he really didn’t care. He could look after himself.

He didn’t dare leave his door open tonight and resigned to put up with the feeling of being trapped in the small room with the bland grey bed and the bland grey walls.

At least there aren’t bars on your window.

Edward rolled over in his bed and wrapped the pillow over both ears to try and block out the voice but it had never worked before and it didn’t now.

The week started as a repeat of the last. He got up, showered, put on his dull green uniform, went down to the mess for breakfast and found himself waiting in line next to Ritch. The taller boy looked over at him awkwardly. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Edward answered and they both continued to stare at the basket of muffins in silence. The line moved along and they loaded their trays with breakfast. At the end of the line, Edward stood and looked around for an empty table. Ritch made to walk away but stopped, turning back to the younger cadet.

“You, um, want to sit with us?” he asked.

Edward considered it for a second. Maybe Yssen had been right about this boy; he really was just a nice guy. “Sure,” he said with a shrug. He might not be here to make friends but if people wanted to befriend him… well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

They crossed the room to a table at the far end where some boys were already sitting, one of them waving to catch Ritch’s attention. About halfway there, they passed a group of cadets walking the other way. Edward saw him, the cadet who’d tried to bully him last night, before they crossed paths and was ready when the boy tried to push him again. He sidestepped the shove with grace and stuck his foot out tripping the other boy up and making him face-plant to a sudden rise of laughter in the mess hall.

“Woah, hey careful, you alright?” someone said. Edward had no idea who. His eyes were trained only on the bully as he picked himself up off the floor with a burning red face. He glowered at the young alchemist. “You’ll pay for that, freak,” he spat.

Edward was not intimidated in the least. He raised a single eyebrow. “For what? Not my fault you’re damn clumsy,” he replied smugly.

Ritch dug his elbow gently into Edward’s back. “C’mon, leave it,” he said as his eyes darted to the other side of the room. Edward followed his gaze and spotted one of the Sergeants watching them with a frown.

“Move along, boys,” she called, shooting them a stern warning with her eyes alone. They did go their separate ways but not before Edward caught a glimpse of the other cadet’s murderous glare. Yup, target meet back.

When they got to the table someone clapped him on the back. “That was awesome,” the boy said. Edward answered with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” was his well-practiced response. Which only made the cadets laugh and Edward realised with a bit of a jolt that they were laughing with him. He allowed a small smile to grace his lips.

Ritch was impressed. “You sure don’t take shit from anyone do you?” he said as he sat down “I admire that.” Edward followed his lead and took a seat across the table from him. “I’m Ritch, by the way.”

Edward nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” Then after a pause that was probably too long for social standards he added. “I’m Ed.”

Another boy with blond hair and glasses leaned in. “How old are you Ed?”

He gave the cadet a sheepish grin. “Thirteen.”

The boy let out a low whistle. “Damn, I didn’t think you could even enroll before seventeen,” he said in wonder.

Edward made a grimace because he really didn’t want to open that baggage at the breakfast table. “I’m a special case,” he deadpanned, digging into his scrambled eggs. Really, these cadets were not much older than him, most probably only seventeen. But at this age, a difference of four years seemed like a huge gap. Especially because most of the boys sitting at this table towered over him.

“Why’d you join, anyway? A little eager for glory or what?” someone else on his left chimed in. He really couldn’t begrudge their curiosity. He’d be curious too, in their shoes. He considered his answer and decided on truth, albeit a rather simple version of it.

“I had to, to upgrade my licence,” he said around a mouthful of toast. At the cadet’s confused look he added “my State Alchemist’s licence.” This was met with a chorus of ohs and Edward rolled his eyes. He decided to steer the conversation away from that particular subject.

“Who’s the Jerk?” he asked Ritch and it was a testament to how much of a jerk the Jerk was that Ritch knew exactly who Ed was referring to. The cadet made a face.

“Oh, that’s Stanley. He thinks he’s pretty hot stuff,” he said as his eyes scanned the hall. “He likes to throw his weight around and pick on the litt- er I mean the newbies,” he amended quickly. Edward let it slide.

“Yeah well he picked on the wrong newbie,” he huffed.

The next time he ran into Stanley was in the change room after their morning endurance training. It was hot and muggy and by the end of it all the boys, Edward included were a hot, sweaty, sticky mess. Sergeant Yssen let them go early for a quick shower and change before lunch.

As Edward stood by his assigned locker trying the peel off his sticky mess of a shirt, the metal door slammed shut missing his nose by about an inch. He flinched but turned steely and unimpressed amber eyes on Stanley who leaned against the row of lockers beside him with a smug smirk.

The cadet eyed him from head to toe in contempt, his eyes coming to rest on the metal shoulder. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he jeered.

Edward raised a single unimpressed eyebrow. “What’s wrong with your face?” he retorted without missing a beat. Stanley’s face fell into a scowl.

As he glared at the younger boy, someone behind Edward piped up. “I bet he’d make a great lightning rod,” the other boy said which earned a few snickers and Edward realised for the first time that he was surrounded. There were at least four or five of them, no doubt Stanley’s buddies.

Edward ignored them and opened his door again to grab his towel. It slammed shut again, this time on his hand. He narrowed his eyes. It was his metal hand so the effect was not exactly what Stanley had likely hoped for. All he’d managed to do was horribly bend the thin metal door as it bounced off his steel wrist.

Edward looked at the Jerk sharply, his fist tightening around the fluffy towel. “You wanna go Stanley?” he challenged.

Stanley scoffed without moving from his cocky position against the locker. “You wouldn’t last five minutes in a fight,” he drawled.

The young alchemist advanced on him, stopping just before entering his personal space. Oh how he really wanted to sink his metal fist into that smug face. “Hit me and let’s find out!” he growled.

Edward can tell that this cadet is all talk. He can see the hesitation poorly hidden behind a flimsy mask of contempt. He, on the other hand, was not intimidated by this young man in the least. Maybe he should be but he wasn’t.

Stanley doesn’t hit him and Edward’s theories are justified. With a satisfied smirk he turned his back on him and finds his way blocked. Honestly, if these guys wanted to bully him, why are they just standing around doing fuck all? Amateurs.

He lifted his chin a fraction and glared daggers at the boy directly in front of him. “I’m giving you five seconds to get the fuck out of my way,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

The idiot didn’t move and Edward didn’t bother counting. He brought his hands together. It was kind of funny really the way they all just stood there and watched it happen. He slammed his right hand against the wall of metal lockers and molded the metal under his will. He watched as it reached out and wrapped itself around the cadets in front and behind him without having to look. He heard their shouts of surprise and terror and smiled.

When the static petered out, he had four cadets trapped in twisted metal and his way was clear. The fifth backed away in terror. Edward said nothing and headed to the showers to wash and change. After that he went to lunch and deliberately ignored the stares and the muffled shouts from the change room.

Halfway through his sandwich Edward looked up and Sergeant Yssen was suddenly standing in front of him with his arms crossed and a very unimpressed look on his face. “Elric,” he said in a low, reproving way.

Edward swallowed his mouthful and tried for nonchalance. “What’s up, Sergeant.” By the look on the man’s face, it hadn’t quite hit the mark.

Yssen frowned at him. “You know what,” he answered in a way that left no room for argument. “Change room, now.” He didn’t even wait to see if the alchemist followed.

Edward didn’t try to argue. He followed, sending his uneaten portion of sandwich a wistful glance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected this. He didn’t think anyone, short of using heavy duty tools, had the ability to free the Jerk and his jerk friends. But he hoped they’d languished there long enough to think twice before messing with him again.

Edward couldn’t stop the smirk at the sight of the mess he’d made and the boys trapped in it. He quickly wiped it off his face when Yssen turned to him, pointing a calloused finger at the young men. “Fix it,” he all but snapped.

With great resignation, he walked up to the wall of lockers and clapped his hands. Using a simple transmutation he’d used so often he could probably do it in his sleep, he peeled the metal away from their bodies and watched in satisfaction as they stumbled and fell like flies around him. Stanley was livid. He met the cadet’s eyes with the self-satisfaction of victory and was met with a burning hatred and a touch of apprehension. Good.

Clearly the Jerk didn’t dare try anything with Sergeant Yssen standing there but Edward could tell he wanted to.

Yssen glared at the lot of them. “You five will go out the yard and run ten additional laps,” he said in the same commanding tone. He waited for the boys to file out with various volumes of Yes, Sirs before turning on Ed.

The teen suddenly felt small under that intense gaze. “I do believe Colonel Heyes gave you explicit orders not to use alchemy,” he said reprovingly.

“Well they-”

Yssen held up his hand effectively cutting off the excuse. “It’s for their protection, you realise that right?”

Edward stared at him. This is not where he thought this conversation was going.

Yssen sighed. “Fullmetal, you’re a State Alchemist. You’re effectively a human weapon. These cadets are just kids-” (The irony of that statement was not lost on the thirteen year old.) “-that have probably never left home before joining the military.” Yssen gave him a considering look. “You outmatch them in experience and skill despite your age and stature.”

This response left the boy flustered. “So what, you want me to just roll over and take it when they’re being assholes?” he snapped. He was glad it was just the two of them. Technically Edward outranked Yssen but also Edward was here as a cadet and therefore was subject to, as Colonel Heyes had aptly reminded him, the rules of the academy. He liked Yssen and didn’t really want to cause the man trouble.

“No, I don’t,” Yssen said evenly. “But maybe entrapping them in the locker was a bit extreme don’t you think?”

Edward scowled at him. “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You want me,” he went on, pointing at his chest for emphasis, “to go easy on them for trying to bully me because they’re too fucking dumb to realise that a State Alchemist can turn their insides into their outsides?” Not all State Alchemists were capable of such a thing of course, but Ed sure was. If he wanted to. If he was inclined to such murderous tendencies.

Yssen closed his eyes against such a graphic image and shook his head. He hesitated trying to find his words. “Essentially yes,” he said finally with resignation. “But let’s not...” he took a deep breath and if he looked a bit green around the edges Edward wasn’t going to mention it. “Let’s not be turning people inside out,” he added grimly.

Edward smirked at the man. “I promise I won’t be turning people inside out,” he said with an amused glint in his eye. But the smile faded quickly. “Seriously though, I am not going to let some stuck up jackasses push me around. If they start something, I’m gonna end it,” he said with force.

Yssen considered this. “I never said you couldn’t stand up for yourself,” he said quietly. “Just don’t hurt anyone. And try not to abuse your power,” he added with a pointed look. Edward knew Yssen wasn’t talking about his rank.

Edward nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he added after a moment when he remembered that this was the correct response. “What will you tell the Colonel?”

Yssen straightened himself up to his full height. “I’ll tell him I handled it,” he said. He jerked his head to the door of the change room. “Get out of here. Go finish your lunch.”

“Yes, Sir,” Edward responded. The words didn’t hold the usual amount of contempt.

He saw them around. Of course he did since they were in the same program and thrown into the same exercises. But Stanley left him alone after that morning in the change room.

There was a stronger contempt emanating from the other cadet whenever their eyes met but just enough apprehension for them not to bother him.

The week went on, flying by rather quickly as Edward busied himself with training during the day and research at night. The gardening book was obviously a coded alchemist’s journal but it was proving challenging. Most nights he fell asleep at his desk in the wee hours of the morning and had to scrape himself together the next morning to be up on time and responsive enough to be useful. He only forgot to pin his hair up once.

He sat at the table during weapons training and swore as he fumbled with a small piece of the firearm he was meant to be assembling. It took all his willpower not to throw the damn thing across the room. He had to admit though, that his dexterity was improving. Lieutenant Hawkeye had given him small exercises to help improve the fine motor control of his right hand but he hadn’t truly appreciated the results of these exercises until he only managed to drop two pieces instead of ten.

Progress!

That’s the spirit!

Most of the week was actually spent indoors sitting at a desk listening to instructors drone on about ethics and core values with a healthy dose of physical endurance thrown in. Which would have been bad enough as is but the persistent heat made it feel like running through an oven. The air was so humid that sweating gave little to no relief and just resulted in a hot and sticky mess for everyone.

Edward’s favourite training was decoding for obvious reasons. They were told they could team up and given a radio to find and listen to a coded transmission and decipher the “enemy” message. Edward chose to work alone which was fine because the other cadets weren’t exactly lining up to partner with him.

He was the first one to finish though. Finding the right radio frequency had taken longer than actually breaking the code. The Sergeant in charge gave him an incredulous look after he removed his headset and walked up to her to hand in his paper. But after checking and finding that the message had been correctly decoded she gave him a sharp nod of approval.

“Not bad Elric. Would you like to try something harder?” she asked. She handed him a booklet this time. It was one of the more advanced codes and he grinned at the challenge.

She grinned too when, after about forty five minutes, he handed it back to her completely decoded. “You should consider being a code-breaker Elric,” she said with barely concealed excitement. “I bet Command would love to have you,” she gushed.

Edward grinned. He had his own goals in mind but he couldn’t deny that it would be fun to be a code-breaker. “Thanks Ma’am,” he said respectfully.

On Thursday morning the air stalled and it became clear in more ways than one that a storm was imminent. Edward could feel the high pressure of the heat wave in a way that was difficult to explain to someone who didn’t carry automail.

His leg in particular hurt and he couldn’t avoid a slight limp despite the medication. He understood how weather systems worked and found himself frowning up at the sky on numerous occasions throughout the day waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He had his next altercation with Stanley during their hand to hand training that afternoon. The instructor unwittingly paired them together and the older boy looked like his birthday had come early. He did not pull his punches and Edward found himself slammed into the padded mat repeatedly (at least one of the times he ended up on his back was because his damn knee had locked at the worst possible moment). Stanley was much bigger than the younger cadet and the difference in raw strength was obvious. That isn’t to say that Edward didn’t get a few hits in but without alchemy, he wasn’t much of a fighter.

If the instructor found that Stanley was being a bit rough on the younger cadet, he didn’t say anything but eventually they switched partners. Unfortunately for Edward, his new sparring partner was one of Stanley’s buddies. It was a horrible afternoon and by the time he followed Ritch to dinner, he was limping and thoroughly bruised.

By the time the sun was setting over the parade grounds for their end of day ceremony the wind picked up, this time blowing in from the opposite direction, and the dark clouds started rolling in. There was the distinct smell of rain in the air and a distant rumble of thunder.

His thigh and shoulder certainly hurt before but the sudden flux in pressure brought on by the imminent thunderstorm combined with standing at attention for half an hour made it excruciating. Back in his room, Edward found it hard to concentrate on his book. He tapped his thumb against the table as he read the same sentence for the third time. The knock on his door was a welcome distraction though it was quite late and he was surprised anyone else was still up.

He yanked the door back with a glare and had a fraction of second to recognise the group of cadets before the one in front rushed at him and pinned his arms to his sides in a tight hold. A pillowcase was pulled roughly over his head and his feet were lifted out from under him.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” he snarled. He was being carried and the others thought it was hilarious if their snickers were anything to go on. Edward bucked and tried to kick but there were at least four of them holding him and he could barely move.

They went down stairs and through doors and he swore and cursed and threatened them the entire time. They went through a door and he heard gravel crunching underfoot and he suddenly realised that they were outside. It wasn’t raining yet but the thunder had grown louder as the storm approached.

“You fuckers, just wait ‘till I get my hands on you, you’ll regret the day you were born,” he roared trying to elbow someone.

One of the cadets laughed. “Feisty aren’t we?”

“Let’s see how feisty he is without his pants on,” someone else snickered which earned a round of laughter. Edward fought harder and managed to clip one of them in the chin. His feet touched the ground and he got a fist in the gut in return and doubled over thoroughly winded.

They hooked their arms under each of his and dragged him a few paces where his back was pressed against something hard. They tied his wrists by pulling his arms backwards around what he assumed to be the base of one of the light poles on the track. It was just large enough around that his fingers couldn’t touch on the other side though he figured this was just coincidence rather than strategic planning on their part.

One of them yanked his pants down and they all laughed and whooped at the victory. Edward seethed under the pillowcase, his face turning a deep shade of red.

He knew the Jerk was there. He’d seen him in the hallway before his head was covered “You’re dead Stanley,” he shouted. A clap of thunder echoed his voice and he felt a few scattered rain drops patter against his shoulders. Then in a rush of wind the downpour barrelled over the field and immediately drenched all of them. Edward saw the blinding flash of lightning easily through the thin grey pillowcase that was quickly getting plastered to his face. He felt the sharp crack of thunder that immediately followed in his chest.

“FUCK!” he shouted over the rain just as he heard the panicked shouts of the other boys. They ran away. He knew they ran away and left him there. Their stupid practical joke was now an extremely dangerous situation for him. Not only was he tied to a fucking pole during a thunderstorm he had two metal limbs. He felt a raw panic surge in his chest.

“HEY!” he screamed. “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE ME HERE YOU FUCKERS!”

There was only the deafening rain. He pulled at the rope viciously and felt the skin on his wrist tear. He grit his teeth against the pain and pulled until the rope snapped under the strength of the automail. With the sudden slack, he fell forward into the mud and yanked the pillowcase off his head. The sky lit up with an intense white followed almost instantly by a deafening crack as the lightning split the air. In that flash he saw them and saw red. They had stopped running and seemed to be having an argument out in the rain mere meters from the safety of the building.

He pulled his pants up and ran. He didn’t stop until he had tackled Stanley to the ground and sat on his chest. He was muddy and rain cascaded down his body in torrents but he didn’t care. The older boy was so stunned to see him that he didn’t react fast enough. As promised Edward raised his metal fist and smashed it into Stanley’s face.

He tuned everything else out and was driven by pure unadulterated rage as he drove his fist into the other boy’s face again and again.

Stop.

He distantly heard the others shouting. He heard and saw the storm as if it existent outside of his small world where he and his enemy existed.

Stop it!

He was aware of the sound of bone crunching yet detached at the same time.

Stop it or you’ll kill him!

There was blood but it wasn’t his blood.

Brother!!

Someone grabbed his arm in a firm hold and arrested the movement of another punch. He stared wide-eyed at the bloody mess he’d made of the cadet’s face. Watched as the rain washed the blood away as quickly as it appeared. He was breathing hard and his arm was stuck in mid-air; held firmly in someone’s strong grip.

Then he was tackled and pinned to the ground.

Edward was not aware of much after that. He stared wide-eyed at nothing as he was carried inside by a pair of soldiers he guessed to be Security. He curled in on himself when they pushed him into a holding cell and slammed the barred gate close, key turning in the lock.

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as the storm outside raged on. The rain beat against the barred window and the thunder shook the building.

But Edward did not cry. He wasn’t angry or sad or scared.

He just felt nothing at all.

Chapter Text

It was a long night. Eventually the storm passed. The sun came up. A medic came to clean then wrap his left wrist and someone brought him food which he didn’t touch. He settled himself, still thoroughly damp, on the low bed with his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest and face buried in his arms.

It was a blissful silence.

He didn’t look up at the sound of people coming until he heard the unmistakable low baritone voice of Roy Mustang. He lifted his face a fraction to see through his bangs as the man came in escorted by Security and looking grim. The colonel gestured for the guard to unlock the cell, which the man promptly did, then said “leave us.”

The guard saluted the colonel with a crisp “yes, Sir,” and left the room.

Mustang stood in the open cell doorway for a long time and just looked at his young subordinate. His expression was unreadable. Then with a sigh, he walked in and sat on the bed beside Edward, the mattress dipping considerably under the older man’s weight.

Mustang leaned his elbows forward on his knees, feet on the ground and looked straight ahead as he spoke.

“I just spent the entire morning in an emergency board meeting,” he said, his voice carefully void of emotion. “I thought you’d like to know that, despite the severe beating he sustained, Stanley Haanson will make a full recovery though he’ll need to have his jaw wired shut for the next eight weeks.”

Edward didn’t move.

“He and one of the others involved have also been expelled,” he went on in the same even tone.  “If you ask me they should have also been charged with assaulting a Sate Alchemist but I had to drop it in order to negotiate.”

Edward didn’t say anything but his eyes slid to the side to look at his commanding officer. Mustang didn’t appear to have noticed.

 “The other three have only been suspended as they claim they had no knowledge of what Mr. Haanson had planned and even tried going back to get you once the storm blew in. As for you,” this time Mustang did turn his head slightly to look at him and when their eyes met, Edward looked away.

“You’ve been given a two week suspension.” The older man paused and watched Edward carefully, trying to gauge a reaction. The younger alchemist huffed grumpily. The silence dragged on for a long time before the colonel spoke again.

“What happened?” he asked more gently. Edward refused to look at him.

“I thought you said you just spent an hour in a meeting. You know what happened,” the boy said moodily, his voice somewhat muffled as he rested his cheek on his folded arms.

Mustang frowned. “You’re right. I do know what happened but I want to hear it from you.”

Edward didn’t respond right away but Mustang was patient.

“He was askin’ for it,” he eventually said sourly. “They’ve been on my ass all week. Then they drag me out into the field in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm and leave me tied to a fucking pole with-”

His cheeks burned a little and he refused to look at the older man. “-with my pants down.” He stuck his left arm out showing the man the bandage. “Ripped some skin off but I managed to get out.”

Mustang narrowed his eyes. “This part I know. But I want to know what happened with you. The others said you lost it on Mr. Haanson. Like, and I quote, <a man possessed>.”

Edward’s hand fisted and he looked down at it noticing all the blood caked into the knuckle joints of his metal hand for the first time. He clearly remembered the pale face smeared with blood as he slammed his automail fist into it and yet at the same time it felt like he had watched it happen from a distance. He closed his eyes against the image as if that would help. He felt sick.

“I would have killed him,” he said horrified, his voice barely above a whisper. “If someone hadn’t stopped me I would have killed him.”

Mustang looked at him sharply then. “That’s not the story the others told,” he said cautiously.

“What?”

“Fullmetal, all four of the others said you stopped voluntarily. It’s probably the only reason I was able to vouch for you,” he said slowly as he scrutinised the boy’s face. “Nobody stopped you,” he said.

Edward shook his head because he clearly remembered the firm grip on his arm, holding him back. His heart skipped a beat. “No, I… it wasn’t me.” He shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the damp clothes still clinging to his body.

Mustang stared at him for such a long moment that it started to make him feel uncomfortable. “Whatever the case may be,” he said slowly while giving the boy a strange expression, “it works better in your favor if we stick to the story of you stopping on your own.”

He gave a sharp nod, all business and rose to his feet. “I’m taking you back to your dorm at HQ so you can shower and change,” he announced. Edward watched his movements with his eyes but didn’t budge.

“What about my stuff? All my research is still in my room here,” he said moodily.

Mustang marched to the door and turned expectantly. “Lieutenant Hawkeye has already gone and collected your things. On your feet soldier,” he commanded.

Edward glared at him but got to his feet and followed the man out. The guard on security gave him a dark look as they passed but otherwise they didn’t meet anyone else.

Riza was waiting for them in the black car. It wasn’t really that far but the drive was silent. Roy watched Edward from the corner of his eye the entire way with well concealed concern. The boy seemed off as he tapped his metal thumb against the leather seat and stared vaguely out the window. The other cadets involved, all those who could speak anyway, individually told the same story: Edward had attacked Mr. Haanson (after being humiliated and provoked), beat him with his automail fist but stopped before any permanent damage was done. Why would the kid or the other cadets lie about that?

He let is pass for now since it worked out in their favour. As they approached the imposing building, Roy turned in his seat. “You look like shit,” he said without much menace. “Go clean yourself up,” he ordered.

Their eyes met and Edward nodded tiredly. Roy frowned at the way the boy fidgeted but chose not to mention it. “I expect you in my office within the hour,” he said instead.

When the car pulled up to the main gate of the residential compound, Edward grabbed his bag and practically fled the vehicle without saying word.

Roy and Riza watched him limp away. He was absolutely filthy; covered head to toe in dried mud. The front of his academy uniform was spattered with blood and his metal fist was caked with dark brown muck that was a combination of mud and blood.

“Do you think he’s a flight risk, Sir?” she asked in the silence of the vehicle as they watched his not-so-bright golden head disappear inside the building. Her tone clearly indicated that this was her opinion but she was far too professional to say that.

Roy frowned as he thought about it for a second. Then he shook his head. “No, Lieutenant, I don’t believe he is.” Where would he go anyway? The kid had nothing left.

Edward did shower and it felt good to be clean. But as he stood in front of the mirror with a clean towel wrapped around his waist, he found himself mesmerised with his reflection. He knew he’d heard his brother’s voice. But… it was all in his head.

Wasn’t it?

He’d felt a strong hand on his arm, stopping him from doing something he would have regretted. But it was his automail arm, so how could he have possibly felt anything? It had to be in his head.

He stared hard at the golden eyes in the mirror like they would show him the truth.

“Al?” he said tentatively, his voice sounding small in the silent bathroom. As soon as the word left his lips he felt stupid. This was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard of. He shook he head violently. “You’re losing it Elric,” he mumbled to himself.

As he pulled on his familiar, comfortable clothes his eyes landed on the paper packet he’d bought on his last rest day and frowned.

In that moment, Edward made a sudden, idiotic decision.

As the time crept on ninety minutes, Roy finally hit his limit of patience. “Breda,” he barked and the man looked up from his work with a surprised expression but attentive all the same.

“Go over to the dorms and get Fullmetal. He’s late,” he said with barely contained irritation. He’d said within the hour. What the hell was taking him so long? When that kid finally showed up he’d strangle him, metaphorically of course.

As for Heymans, he didn’t ask questions. He did as ordered and dutifully walked over to the residential compound and climbed the stairs to room 318. He knocked but there was no answer. He waited a reasonable amount of time and called out. “Fullmetal? You in there? It’s Second Lieutenant Breda,” he said through the door and pressed his ear to the wood to listen. There was absolute silence. The man frowned and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. It wasn’t locked so he let himself in. He walked through the entire small apartment, his frown growing, and found absolutely nothing.

He kept hoping to spot the little alchemist as he walked back to the office. He really didn’t want to report what he’d found to the Colonel. But he made it back without such luck and walked in with a frown that Hawkeye immediately mirrored.

Heymans walked up the Flame Alchemist who he respected immensely but who he was also secretly terrified of and had the unfortunate duty to inform the man that Edward Elric was gone.

 “Hawkeye, with me. Breda, head down to the bus station. Havoc, search the train station.” Roy’s eyes fell on Falman as an idea came to him. “Falman, I want you to search the patient records of East City Asylum and see if you can find any transfer documents regarding an Alphonse Elric,” he ordered. The man in question nodded once and left the room.

“Fuery, send a bulletin to keep an eye out for Fullmetal. Keep me informed of anything you hear.”

The young Master Sergeant saluted before sinking into his seat and covering his ears with the thick headset.

The others left as well and Roy met Riza’s eye. “Don’t say it,” he warned her grumpily.

She didn’t have to say anything. The look she gave him was loud and clear. I told you so.

They drove around in ever growing circles around HQ with zero luck. Roy’s patience was just about burned up when the radio crackled to life and Fuery’s voice filled the car. “Lieutenant Havoc has Fullmetal detained at the train station, Sir,” Fuery informed him.

Riza immediately pulled a U-turn.

When they arrived at the station, they found a small army of military police on the platform and a very serious Second Lieutenant with a downright miserable State Alchemist sitting in the Station Master’s office.

Roy was furious. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped before the office door had even closed. Riza stayed close to his side this time though he suspected it was more for the boy’s protection than his.

His first clue should have been the lack of response. But it was the completely lost look on the kid’s face that took the wind out of his sails. It was just so out of place and so wrong. Something’s wrong.

Roy reeled a little and took a deep breath. “I gave you an order,” he said gravely, keeping his voice even. “Why did you disobey me and leave?”

Edward looked away as his foot started tapping. He was fidgety and far too quiet. Something’s wrong, Roy’s brain screamed.

“Where were you going?” he asked with such forced calmness that Riza actually turned to look at him.

It was a long minute before Edward answered him. His voice held the right amount of determination but there was something else. Apprehension?

“I’m going to see my brother,” he said in a way that challenged the Colonel to try and stop him. “I have to..” he swallowed thickly, “I have to ask him something.” His eyes darted up to meet his commanding officer. “It’s to do with my research.” Roy stared at him dumbfounded. “Sir,” he added as an afterthought and with a touch of the usual venom.

Roy closed his eyes and breathed through his nose as he counted to ten and was thoroughly aware that Riza was giving him one of those looks which he ignored.

“I literally,” he ground out through his clenched teeth, “just got you off the hook for almost beating someone to death and ordered you to report to me WITHIN THE HOUR, what the hell makes you think it’d be okay to wander off to who knows where WITHOUT ASKING PERMISSION!”

He was shouting now and Fullmetal sat there and crossed his arms like a petulant child. “Slipped my mind I guess,” he replied sarcastically.  

“You could have just asked!” Roy snapped, thoroughly irritated.

Edward looked at him incredulously.

“You should have just asked,” he said again, more calmly. This time he had three pairs of eyes on him and he pulled himself up to his full height. Sure, he could drag the boy back to HQ and lock him up. Punish him for disobeying a direct order. But that didn’t seem to be the right way to deal with him. Hell, Edward had already suffered through worse punishments, what the hell could Roy possible do to top that and leave an impression on the boy? No, Roy decided then and there to take a page out of Maes Hughes’ book on role modelling and deal with this problem with trust rather than a heavy hand. He needed the kid to trust him. It was probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

“You want to go see your brother?” he asked in a tone that verged on snappish but was just this side of calm. “Fine. Go. Take a granted leave of absence. But Havoc is going with you,” he said in the silence of the office.

Havoc jolted from his position against the heavy wooden desk with an incredulous “I am??” just as Edward shot the red headed lieutenant a sideways look.

Roy turned to Jean then with a nod as he made up his mind. “Yes, you are. And you’ll not let him,” he pointed at the young troublemaker, “out of your sight.”

Edward scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled.

“Clearly you do,” countered Roy. “Either you go with Havoc or you spend your two week suspension in lockup, your choice.”

Edward threw his hands up. “Fine!” he snapped back with a growl. “I’ll go with Havoc.”

Jean looked around the office incredulously hoping for someone to come rescue him from this nonsense and his eyes landed on Riza but she only shrugged unhelpfully.

Roy turned back to him then and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for volunteering, Lieutenant,” he said with straight face and Jean gawked at him.

That’s how Jean Havoc unexpectedly found himself in a train carriage across from Edward Elric heading north-east out of the city at noon on a Friday. He looked at the young State Alchemist and the boy stared back with those eerie amber eyes.

“So, uh. Where exactly are we going?”

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

They pulled into the station of a charming little village nestled in the foothills of a mountain Jean couldn’t remember the name of.  His ass was sore from sitting too long and he desperately needed the cigarette he fished out of his pocket the moment they stepped off the train.

“Lead the way Chief,” he said which earned him an annoyed look from the boy but he hardly even knew what they were doing here let alone where they were going. He fell in step behind the young alchemist and enjoyed his cigarette as they walked through the village. It really was a beautiful place. The village was lively and lush with spring greenery and wild flowers. The air was fresh and crisp as it blew down from the mountain.

They turned up a little lane that ducked under arching apple trees in full bloom and by the time they arrived at the sweeping iron gates of an impressive estate on the other side, their shoulders were dusted with little white petals.

A fancy sign with curling letters declared that this was Valleyview Hospital.

Jean let out a low whistle. “Nice place,” he said taking a moment to admire the impressive white manor and its sweeping lawns. Even more impressive was the backdrop; the mountain rose majestically on the far side of the valley and the whole thing was absolutely breathtaking. “Nicer than any hospital I’ve ever seen, I can tell you that.”

Edward glanced at the older man and paused long enough to give him a slight frown before he kept walking. “It’s a private hospital,” he said tersely.

He glanced away from the manicured trees to spare the kid an appraising look. These places were not cheap. Edward for his part walked forward with a determined air and he seemed to know where he was going so Jean followed a few steps behind. The colonel had ordered him to keep him in sight at all times, not to hold the boy’s hand. They walked into the elegant main doors and through the entrance hall to an office tucked away to the right.

The man behind the desk immediately looked over Fullmetal’s head and addressed Jean. “Hello, sir, how can I help you today?”

Jean gave him a blank look and shook his head. “Hey, don’t look at me, I’m just the glorified valet,” he said and pointed to the younger. The man gave the alchemist a quick appraising glance but his smile never wavered and Jean suspected that in a place like this, he was used to kissing the asses of wealthy patrons, no matter their size or age. “My sincerest apologies young sir, how can I help you?” he said turning to Edward instead and completely ignoring Jean.

Edward scowled at him, insulted. “I’m here to see my brother, Alphonse Elric,” he ground out.

“Of course,” the man said obligingly as he pulled a book from the shelf behind him. “And your name?” he asked with another quick glance at Jean as if he still wasn’t sure who he should be addressing.

“Edward,” the boy said and at man’s continued questioning look he added “Elric” slowly.

This seemed to satisfy him enough to dig out a couple of bright yellow cards on a lanyard. “Mr. Elric is in suite forty eight, you go through this door and around the back, turn-“

Edward snatched the lanyard before the man had finished talking with a snappish I know where my brother is, thanks. In all Jean thought that was rather rude but he kept his mouth shut, following with a slight crease to his forehead.

The hospital looked more like a hotel with its beautiful curving staircase and the delicate filigree sliding doors that separated the common areas. A really, really fancy hotel, Jean decided. Edward did seem to know where he was going as he turned corners and led them down a long immaculate hallway lined with painted blue doors. There were of course a few reminders that this was no hotel; the staff, in their white uniforms and hats, were clearly medical. Overall though, it was a beautiful and peaceful place.

The boy stopped at a door with the number forty-eight painted on it in gold letters. The plaque on the wall read A. Elric and the door was open.

Edward hesitated for a short moment before walking in without knocking. Havoc swept the room with his eyes out of habit as he followed and found it empty. Suite forty-eight was in fact a small apartment without any personal touches. It was tastefully decorated but lacked the small details that made a place feel like a home. This was another stark reminder that they were in a hospital even if it was a very fancy one. They stood in a spacious room with a window and two more doors that led off it on the right and left.

Edward spared a disgruntled glance at the crystal vase filled with bright yellow flowers in the middle of the table and went to the left door. Havoc followed dutifully and leaned on the door frame to watch as Edward made a circuit around the room, frowning.

The room was minimalist at best. The walls were painted a clean white and the bed had been stripped of its sheets. Only a pair of worn slippers tucked neatly under the side of the bed and a single framed photograph on the nightstand served as witness that someone actually lived here. Jean guessed it was a family photo but he couldn’t tell from his spot by the door.

The lieutenant pressed himself against the door frame as Edward squeezed passed him on his way back out just as someone came in. The woman was carrying an armful of neatly folded linens and stopped abruptly when she noticed the visitors. Her eyes landed on the young blond in surprise.

“Oh! Edward!” she smiled warmly. “This is a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know you were coming.” Her gaze wandered to Jean then. “And who’s this?” she asked with genuine curiosity as she set the linens down on the table.

“My babysitter,” Edward replied flatly.

“His escort,” Jean cut in with an annoyed glance at the boy. He held his hand out to the woman. “Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, Ma’am,” he introduced himself because it was obvious the kid wasn’t going to do it. She shook his hand with a surprisingly firm grip. “Alice,” she replied with a curt nod and Jean knew this woman was military. There was just an air about her that screamed no nonsense. She was a bit older though, so maybe retired if she was working at this hospital.

“Where’s Al?” Edward cut in impatiently.

Alice gave him a kind smile as she picked up her linens again. “He’s out on the veranda,” she said and headed into the bedroom to make the bed.

Edward didn’t wait in the room any longer than he had to. He marched out and Jean found himself having to jog a little until he caught up. Edward ignored him for the most part until they passed through a set of double glass doors at the end of a long covered porch and he stopped after a few steps, turning to the older man.

“Do you mind? How about a bit of privacy?” he snapped. Jean gave him an unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“I’m supposed to keep you within sight,” he countered passively.

Edward shot him an annoyed frown. “Well you can watch me just fine from here,” he hissed and turned away again. Jean watched him go and only moved a few steps to lean against the nearest post. He really wanted to light up right now but he’d been yelled at enough times for smoking in a hospital to know better.

He watched the Fullmetal Alchemist walk away and wasn’t sure what to make of the boy. He was certainly bullheaded. Smart. Okay, really, really smart if Falman was to be believed. Abrasive, for sure, but there was something likeable about him too. He had a good heart. And so much pain both physical and emotional. He hid it very well but it became obvious the more time Jean spent with him.

In the end Roy Mustang trusted Edward Elric and Jean trusted Mustang and that’s really all that mattered.

Edward allowed himself a moment to calm down before he approached the boy sitting in the wheelchair. His brother stared off into the distance with a cat curled on his lap. The boy wasn’t petting the animal but rather had his fingers tangled in the soft fur, his hand rising and falling as the cat breathed.

Edward was nervous and he hated that he was nervous. This was Al, his baby brother!

“Al?” he said tentatively, resting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. He didn’t react. “Hey, it’s me. Ed.”

Alphonse showed no sign that he’d heard. Edward’s chest constricted painfully and he walked around to stand directly in front of his brother. He looked healthy which was a relief. He’d been right to trust Alice with his brother’s care.

“Al,” he said softly as he placed his warm left hand on the other boy’s cheek to turn his head and gently force him to look at him. “It’s me, Edward.”

Alphonse gave no resistance to having his face turned and looked at Edward without any change in his blank expression. His eyes were not focused on his older brother’s face but rather stared vaguely as he looked through him.

Edward felt a tightening in his throat. He stared hard at his little brother’s face but there was nothing. No spark of recognition.

No anger or pain or joy.

Nothing.

Eventually, Edward lowered his hand and Alphonse turned his head back to stare vaguely on the distant mountain. He probably wasn’t even really seeing the mountain at all.

Edward’s fist clenched as his frustration grew but he pushed it down. He looked around and spotted a three-legged wooden stool and dragged it over to sit in front of Al.

“Look,” he said in a low voice, mindful of the other patients on the veranda and his shadow watching from a distance. “I…. I need to know.”

The cat stretched and curled back into a tight roll and Alphonse’s fingers curled reflexively in the animal’s fur.

Edward’s voice was barely above a whisper and his heart hammered. “Are you still in there?”

A light mountain breeze ruffled their blond hair and Al’s shoulders pulled up a fraction as his body reacted to the cold.

Edward wet his lips nervously because it was the first time he’d spoken these thoughts out loud. “I swear it’s like I’m sensing you around me and it sounds crazy.” He glanced around but no one was paying any attention to them except Havoc. “I sound crazy!” he whispered forcefully, taking his brother’s other hand in his own. “I’m hearing your voice and I…I need to know if you’re still here or if I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Alphonse said nothing

“Please Al, if you’re listening somehow you need to show me.” He shook the hand gently as he stared hard into his brother’s emotionless face. “Give me a… a sign or something,” he begged. “Anything!”

Alphonse said nothing.

“Please,” he whispered. He hated this feeling growing in his chest. He fought it.

This time he took Alphonse’s face in both his hands to stare directly into his brother’s blank eyes but the boy didn’t focus on him at all.

“Did you stop me from killing him?”

The silence was painful.

“Say something,” Edward demanded. He could feel his frustration grow and let go because the last thing he wanted was to hurt his little brother. He was frustrated and he was angry because he was frustrated. But none of it was Al’s fault.

Edward took a deep calming breath and leaned in to stare directly into Alphonse’s face even though the other boy showed absolutely zero sign that he noticed.

“I’ll fix this,” he promised and the sting in his eyes surprised him more than it should have. “I swear to you I’ll fix this.” The tightness in his chest intensified tenfold and he absolutely hated himself for this weakness.

Alphonse said nothing and the silence was more of a blow than the fifty lashes. The loneliness was worse than all the time he’d spent in solitary combined. He felt trapped and stupid and so raw. And so fucking guilty. He blinked back the tears because dammit he was thirteen and he did not cry like a baby.

Without another word he turned and marched away from his brother. He walked straight passed Havoc with his face turned away and down the steps of the veranda that led onto one of the garden paths. He didn’t know or care if the man followed him though he probably would.

Edward followed the path through the manicured gardens without seeing them. He just needed to get away. It felt like the whole world was collapsing on him and he hated it. He hated this feeling. He hated that after two years he was no closer to fixing his brother than the day it all started. He hated feeling so helpless and stupid. He managed to keep it all in until he turned a corner and was abruptly stopped in his mindless wandering by a dead end.

The small courtyard should have been beautiful with the ornate bench nestled under a carved shrub and a fountain in the middle but for Edward it was like hitting a wall. He let his guard down for a second and all the emotions he’d crammed down for so long came screaming back up and hit him harder than he could have ever expected. He pressed his left hand into his eyes and still tried to fight the tears but they wouldn’t stop now. His throat constricted painfully and he allowed himself to stumbled to the bench, fall onto it, burry his face in his hands and cried.

Jean did follow him but he kept a discreet distance because he knew right away that the boy was upset. It made him feel very uncomfortable, if he was honest with himself. He barely knew the kid but his heart broke as he watched him talk to his brother. The other boy didn’t seem to be mentally present and he knew, to an extent, what that felt like. Jean didn’t know much about his personal life but he knew that the other boy was his only family. Having grown up in a large family himself, Jean couldn’t imagine what that would feel like, being so alone.

Standing on the other side of the shrub wall, he bit his lip as he listened to the kid’s breath hitch and hesitated. It was hard because he wasn’t sure what he should do.

He waited. His orders were to keep Fullmetal within sight at all times and right now he couldn’t technically see him but he could hear the gasping breaths as the kid desperately tried to control himself. He figured he could allow the kid a few moments at least. Then, taking a deep breath, Jean walked around the wall and crossed the courtyard with his hands in his pockets.

Edward let out a growl of frustration as he approached. “Could you leave me the fuck alone for two goddamned seconds!?” he snapped without looking up as he swiped violently at his face.

Jean sighed because he figured this was how it would go. He sat down on the bench beside the young alchemist and the boy stiffened but didn’t move. He had his mismatched fists pressed into his eyes like he could shield himself from the world.

“You know I can’t do that,” Jean said with honest regret as he fished around in his pocket for his lighter and smokes.

They sat there for a while without saying anything.

“I’m fucking pathetic,” Edward hissed out eventually between halting breaths.

Jean looked down at the kid and sighed. “No. You’re human,” he said gently. Edward’s shoulders shook and he growled in frustration as he tried to keep the tremors under control. Jean looked away and watched a fat bumblebee hover around some flowers in the bush nearby instead.

“Look man, I get it okay? I’ve been where you are,” he admitted. “It’s okay to have feelings alright?” he added, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“I highly doubt you’ve been where I am,” Edward responded flatly though it was ruined by the hiccoughs.

“Okay, fair,” Jean said evenly. “But I know how it feels to lose someone without really losing them.”

Edward looked at him then and Jean took it as an invitation to keep going. “My grandmother had severe memory loss in her last year of life. She came to live with us when it was obvious she couldn’t live on her own anymore. It started with the grandkids; she couldn’t remember our names and kept getting us mixed up.”

Jean frowned at the memory because his Gran had always been so sharp. “Then she started forgetting her own kids and then one morning she woke up convinced she’d been kidnapped by strangers and attacked my father with a rolling pin.”

While Jean talked he noticed that Edward was able to calm down. His breathing had gotten more even and though he still wiped at his eyes angrily, it seemed like the tears had finally slowed.

“It was hard on all of us but I know it was especially hard on my mother,” he went on. “To look at someone you love dearly and they don’t even recognise you…It hurts.” It happened years ago now but the memory of his mother’s tears was still very vivid to him.

“And it’s hard not to get angry with them because it hurts but it’s not their fault.”

Edward sniffled and swallowed thickly as he nodded to everything Jean said and the man knew he was relating on some level. He didn’t have great words of wisdom to offer but he had this.

“How do you deal with something like that?” Edward asked with a surprisingly calm and steady voice. It seemed as if he’d finally managed to control the spasms.

Jean took a moment to think about his answer as he smoked. “For me? It was a comfort knowing that she didn’t know she didn’t know. You know?” He grinned sheepishly at his eloquent speech. “All you can do is be there for them and be nice and take care of them even if you have to listen to same story about the gimpy cow and the rooster for the thousandth time.”

This actually got a chuckle out of teen and Jean smiled.

“It’s hard. And it hurts and there’s no denying that. But for the record?” he leaned down until Edward looked at him. “I think you’re doing a great job looking after your brother.”

Edward nodded and gave him a small smile as a way of saying thanks. He was back to himself now even if his eyes were a bit red. Jean’s eyes drifted down to his hand still holding the half burned cigarette and held it up. “This helps too,” he said offering it the teen.

Edward looked at it surprised for a second before he made his second impulsive decision of the day and accepted.

Sticking the cigarette in his mouth, Edward breathed the smoke in deeply and immediately started on a coughing fit, his eyes watering again. He tried to hand it back to the lieutenant but Jean was already in the process of lighting himself a new one and waved it way.

When Edward was done coughing he looked at the burning roll with a curious expression. “This is tobacco, right?”

Jean shrugged. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Huh,” was all he said and took another drag. “You’re right,” he said after a minute, “This does make me feel better.” He’d managed not to cough after the third try. When they were done, Edward copied Jean and stomped out the butt on the ground. He eyed the older man with smirk. “You’re a bad influence,” he mused.

Jean burst out a loud laugh at that. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Jailbird,” he retorted and Edward chuckled.

“Thanks,” he said after a while and Jean was surprised. He hadn’t really done anything expect tell a story and offer a thirteen year old a cigarette but sometimes, he reasoned, that’s all it took.

“I’m starving,” Edward said as he got off the bench with a stretch. “Let’s get out of here,” he said with a touch of bitterness and walked away.

Jean followed a few paces behind. They dropped by the suite but it was empty again and Edward unpacked the new clothes he’d bought and placed it neatly in the dresser. Jean got a chance then to see the photo this time. It was a family portrait; a mother and a father and two young boys, smiling. Edward noticed him looking but didn’t say anything and Jean didn’t comment.

They walked back to the village and booked a room at the inn before having dinner. It was not exactly an awkward dinner but it wasn’t wholly comfortable either. Especially with the way the locals gave him the side-eye as he sat in his uniform in the dining room. It wasn’t exactly like Mustang had given him a chance to grab a change of clothes or any of his homely comforts for that matter. But as a soldier, he was used to making do with the situation and this was no different.

He noticed Edward wincing more than once as he tried to cut his steak and wondered. When the knife slipped from his hand with a loud clatter, the boy growled in frustration. “Still having a hard time with my grip,” he said with an apologetic grin.

“Does it hurt?”

The boy rolled his shoulder as he nodded. “Most days, yeah.”

“Huh,” was all the older man could offer at that. Automail really didn’t seem worth it to him. He’d seen plenty of people get by with old-fashioned prosthetics. But then again, if he suddenly lost his arm right up to the shoulder he might think differently.

When he finished his meal, Jean leaned back and pulled out a cigarette, and after the quick glance the kid gave him, offered him one too. “What the hell have I gotten myself into,” he chuckled as he passed the lighter too. He pointedly ignored the scandalous look the woman at the next table gave him as Edward accepted both. He wasn’t the kid’s father and as far as he knew, Edward was his own legal guardian anyway.

“I told you, you’re a bad influence,” the boy quipped as he passed the lighter back.

Later during the night, Jean was pulled from sleep by the distinctive sound of retching. It took a moment for his sleep numbed brain to remember where he was, and who he was with to realise that Edward must be sick. He stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom to lean on the open door as the boy emptied his stomach into the toilet. Jean winced.

Watching someone throw up was never pleasant. He walked away and came back with a glass of water and grabbed a washcloth from the shelf by the tub to wet. The boy took the cloth without lifting his head and only when he was sure there was nothing left to throw up, he leaned back against the tub and accepted the water with a weak and shaky “Thanks.”

Jean watched him from the doorway. “Should have ordered the cottage pie,” he said as an attempt to lighten the mood. The kid looked so small curled in on himself, pale and trembling.

Edward shook his head. “S’not the food,” he said after a sip of water. His voice was hoarse and his eyes had watered the way they do when you are sick. “My meds don’t agree with my stomach,” he said tiredly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

Jean frowned at that. “That’s rough. Have you told your doctor?”

Edward shook his head. “It’s the only thing that works.”

“Well it’s clearly not doing you any favours. There’s got to be something else you can take,” he said thoughtfully and decided that he would definitely be mentioning this to Mustang. “How long have you been on this medication?” He was starting to get a little concerned. No wonder he kid was so small, if he couldn’t keep the calories he needed down.

Edward watched him with half closed eyes. He looked exhausted. “Since the surgery,” he added and with a groan inched closer to the toilet.

Jean didn’t want to watch. He headed back to the room and took the liberty of rifling through the kid’s bag until he found the pills. He read the ingredients and dosage and looked back toward the bathroom with a frown. This was very strong stuff, no wonder the kid was puking. He pocketed the pills and decided he wouldn’t give them back until he’d had a chance to talk to the Colonel about it. There had to be something else. Had Fullmetal not done post-surgery physical therapy at all?

He went out for a smoke and by the time he came back, Edward had crawled back onto his bed and seemed to be asleep. Jean watched him thoughtfully for a few minutes before turning out his light. He’d have to keep an eye on him and make sure he was eating properly.

Then he chuckled at the irony of being concerned for the boy’s health after literally offering him a cigarette earlier in the day. Jean fell asleep with the comfort of knowing that he never claimed to be a great role model.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

In the early morning, when the moon was sinking and both the older man and the teen were deeply asleep in their separate twin beds, a shadow moved in the room. If you looked directly at it, you might miss it because it was the sort of thing you could only catch from the corner of your eye when you weren’t really paying attention.

The curtains shifted as the shadow moved passed them even though the window was closed. It hovered around the bed where the younger of the two slept fitfully. The boy was having a nightmare. He rolled over and thrashed a bit but never really woke up. The shadow reached out a small hand and placed it gently on the boy’s forehead and the sleeper immediately calmed against the cold touch. When the boy was breathing evenly again, the shadow moved over to the bedside table.

There were a few things scattered there; a glass of water, a damp facecloth, some loose coins, a wallet, a leather hair tie and a silver pocket watch on a long chain that curled and twisted on itself. The same small hand hovered over each item, occasionally trying to pick it up. But the shadow did not have a solid form and couldn’t interact with them. Finally, it hovered over the watch and when it reached tentative shadowy fingers to it, it managed to make contact and the silver trinket scraped against the wooden tabletop half a centimeter.

This watch was special. It was important. Cautiously, the shadow wrapped its small hand around the watch and lifted it as if it was trying to examine it.

In the bed, the boy let out a soft snort and rolled over and the shadow lost its grip on the watch. It fell against the glass and knocked it over spilling the water. The glass then rolled off the table and smashed against the hardwood floor. Both the room’s occupants bolted up in their beds. The boy, in particular was unpleasantly startled because his face, shoulder and pillow were now wet. He looked around the room and his eyes landed on the older man in the next bed.

Then he looked perplexed at his table and leaned over the side of the bed to examine the shards of glass and his pocket watch in a mess of water on the floor. The cover had popped open and he frowned as he scooped it up, shaking the water off.

“Must have knocked it off by accident,” he said to his companion.

He got up on the other side of the bed and cleaned up the broken glass, mopped up the water with a towel and got back into bed. He flipped the pillow over so the dry side was up and put his head down on it. But he didn’t close his eyes and he kept his watch in his hand under the covers.

From the corner of the room, the shadow watched sadly.

Don’t give up, Brother.

The boy pushed himself up on his elbows suddenly, eyes snapping to the corner but there was nothing there.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Havoc called from the train station to tell him that they were catching the next train back to East City and that there was something he needed to discuss about Fullmetal.

Roy frowned at the phone after he hung up and wondered how his biggest source of stress had become his new recruit so quickly. Every time he sent the boy with one of the team, they came back with something that needed discussing.

He sighed and pulled out the boy’s file again. Havoc had mentioned he should look over the kid’s medical history, particularly his medication. But Fullmetal’s file, on top of being heavily redacted, was lacking in certain areas. That included his medical history. He supposed they hadn’t thought it was necessary to include such trivial details and assumed anyone who wanted to know would simply call the listed doctor.

He would just have to wait until he had a chance to talk to Havoc in person. The real question on his mind was what he was going to do with said new recruit now that he’d been suspended from attending the academy for two weeks.

A knock on his door made him look up from the papers on his desk and he decided, as he closed them and said “come in,” that he’d let Riza handle it.

When the door opened, it was Falman with a folder under one arm. The man walked up to his desk and handed him the folder with the serious expression he always wore. If Roy didn’t know him better, he’d think the older man hated his job.

“The documents you requested regarding East City Asylum, Sir,” the man said with a curt nod.

Roy reached out for it. “And? Did you find anything interesting?” He’d asked for this information when he had no idea where Fullmetal had run off to and figured that finding the boy’s brother would be a good clue to finding the boy. He was right, of course, but in the end they hadn’t needed the information to find Fullmetal. Still, if his mother had taught him anything it was the power of information.

Falman cleared his throat. “He was admitted to East City Asylum after a doctor legally declared him insane in 1910. There isn’t much information available during his time there but I did find his patient number mentioned in an incident report involving an accidental death.”

Roy raised an eyebrow at that and flipped through the documents as Falman kept talking. “Then in the fall of 1911 his brother Edward claimed him and assumed responsibility for his care. He was transferred to Valleyview Hospital shortly after.”

Roy was impressed that the man had caught the bit about the incident report because Alphonse’s name was not even mentioned in it at all but then again, Vato Falman’s ability to spot and remember small details was one of the reasons he’d snatched the man up for his team. He’d proven to be reliable again and again and he hadn’t disappointed in this case either.

“Thank you Falman, I’ll have a look at this more thoroughly later.”

The man gave him another curt nod of acknowledgment. “Is there anything else you’d like me to look into, Sir?

Roy leaned back in his chair and tapped two fingers against his desk as he thought. “Actually yes. I’d like you to get me anything you can find on Fullmetal’s medical history. You can start with Dr. Fenton in Central and also the Central Military Hospital.”

Falman nodded and left the room without another word. That was another thing Roy liked about the man; he was brief and to the point.

Havoc and Fullmetal were due around noon. In the meantime, Roy had a few phone calls to make.

Edward had been grumpy with him when Jean told him he’d taken the medication but too tired to really get mad which was a relief if the man was being honest with himself. The train ride was roughly four hours and after the second hour, Jean couldn’t contain his restlessness. So far Fullmetal had ignored him, either dozing in the other bench or staring vaguely out the window.

“So that woman, is she military?” he asked because he was curious and even though he’d wondered about this yesterday, sometimes these thoughts just popped up in his brain out of the blue. He’d learned a long time ago that it was just how his brain worked, even though some people considered him to be a bit slow.

Edward looked at him without moving his head from its position leaning against the window by sliding his eyes sideways. “Alice?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah, Alice.”

“I mean yeah, she was a first responding medic during the war,” Edward answered, fully looking at him now. “She’s retired now though. So no? Yes, but not anymore.”

“I knew it!” Jean burst out with a grin. “How do you know her?”

Edward frowned slightly as if was trying to figure out why the other man would possibly want to know. “She worked at East City Asylum when Al was admitted,” he said with a sigh and he sounded so, so tired. “She took care of him,” he added before the frown deepened. “She was the only one who took care of him,” he muttered angrily before turning back to the window and the short conversation was officially dropped.

Jean sighed and settled back into his seat to deal with his boredom.

Edward, as it turned out, was just as fidgety and unable to sit still for too long unless he was sleeping. He was just better at hiding it. He lasted one hour longer than Havoc before he pulled himself away from the window with a loud sigh and pulled out a deck of cards.

The movement caught the Lieutenant’s eye and he looked up from the book he was trying to read. The older man set it down immediately as Edward started dealing out the cards without even asking if Havoc wanted to play.

“What are we playing?” Havoc asked as he sorted and placed the cards in his hand.

Edward didn’t look up from the deck as he counted. “Ring of fives,” he said easily. It was a very common and easy game, played fast and more importantly, easy to cheat at. Not that Havoc needed to know that. Edward grinned as he fanned his cards out in front of his face and stared the other man down. “You go first.”

They played and Havoc lost. Repeatedly. Edward grinned impishly and chuckled every time Havoc’s frustration grew until they pulled into East City Station. He gathered his cards, tapping them against the bench to get them in line and shoved them back into his pocket along with the pack of cigarettes he’d “won” off the other man. “Better luck next time, Lieutenant,” he gloated.

Havoc grumbled but it was good natured as he fished his keys from his pocket. Havoc drove them straight to headquarters, which Edward was not too thrilled about but he figured he’d have to see Mustang at some point so he resigned himself to follow the man up to the colonel’s office.

To his surprise, the colonel wanted to speak to Havoc first, in private. So Edward hung around the outer office awkwardly until he eventually took a seat at the desk he usually occupied beside Hawkeye’s.

The woman smiled warmly. “How was your visit?” she asked him.

Edward scowled. “Fine,” he said shortly and almost put his boots up on the desk until he caught Hawkeye’s death glare and lowered his leg again. Her smile returned instantly.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said completely ignoring the murderous vibes she’d just shot at him mere seconds earlier. Edward resigned himself to leaning his chair back to balance on two legs while he waited.

Eventually, Havoc emerged and he gave the alchemist a friendly grin before turning to Hawkeye. “Boss gave me the afternoon off,” he declared and headed straight out the door with a “see ya kid,” as he passed. Edward watched him leave but stayed where he was. It wasn’t until Hawkeye cleared her throat in a very obvious ruse to get his attention that he realised she was staring at him. When he turned to her, she pointed toward Mustang’s office with her chin and gave him a pointed look.

The chair came down with a thunk as he leaned forward and got up. He knew this was about the meds. Honestly it wasn’t any of the colonel’s damn business. He plopped down in the chair facing the man grumpily, crossed his arms and said nothing.

Mustang gave him an unreadable look before he spoke. “Did you find the answers you were looking for?” he asked with forced cordiality.

Edward looked away. “No,” he said tersely and left it there.

The man’s professional mask slipped a fraction, clearly unimpressed with the boy’s attitude. “That’s unfortunate,” he said carefully, studying Edward’s face. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

Ed refused to look at the man. It was bad enough that he’d had a complete meltdown in front of Havoc, he had no desire to discuss his problems with Mustang like this was some kind of unsolicited psychotherapy session.

Mustang frowned at the immature action. “Well,” he said changing his tone, “the next time you decide to take a vacation on a whim, I expect you to tell me first. You can’t disappear like that Fullmetal,” Mustang added gravely, “so the next time I will not be as lenient. Do you understand?”

Edward turned just enough to scowl at the man. “Yes, Sir,” he responded and he hated how automatic it had become but he still took great pleasure in omitting the respect the response was supposed to carry. Mustang didn’t seem to care much. He nodded, satisfied.

“Now then,” the older man went on glossing over the slight, “Havoc informs me that you’re in need of medical advice,” he said, placing Edward’s medication on the desk in front of him with a soft rattle of pills. Edward knew this was what this meeting was really about.  

“What the fuck does Havoc know,” he grumbled.

Mustang gave him an amused smile. “Well he is a fully trained medic,” he answered easily.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. And he tells me they make you sick,” the Colonel added. “If you ask me, that doesn’t sound like this particular medication is a good fit for you.”

“Well I didn’t ask you,” Edward snapped. He really just wanted these people to mind their own business. “I’m fine.”

Mustang’s frown deepened. “You are not fine. Throwing up after every other meal is not fine and it’s not normal nor healthy,” he said forcefully. “I’m sending you to see a doctor AND,” he said over the beginnings of protest, “you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Edward glared at him.

Mustang frowned right back and did not budge. “Your appointment is at 14:00 at East City Hospital,” he said with finality. Edward opened his mouth a few times but couldn’t decide on what to say so he settled with a frustrated growl.

“Until then,” the man went on sternly, “Lieutenant Hawkeye has some paperwork for you to work on. Then Lieutenant Breda will drive you to your appointment.”

Edward really wanted to punch something. Who the hell did Mustang think he was anyway?? He shot to his feet in indignation and the nerves in his leg connection protested violently enough to make him fall right back into the chair. He tried to control his face to hide the painful stab that shot up his leg and into his groin and back but when he looked up Mustang had a raised eyebrow and a smug expression.

A hissed fuck did escape him though. Okay, maybe he did need help but what he needed was a mechanic, not a doctor. He eyed his meds wistfully and the Colonel pointedly swept the bottle off his desk into one of his drawers.

“14:00,” he repeated and though Edward scowled and grumbled, he didn’t argue.

His second attempt at getting up was done with more care and he hobbled out of the room with a string of mumbled curses.

Hawkeye had him at the typewriter transferring old documents. There were boxes and boxes of them and Ed learned that this was the go to “office duty” used as punishment for disobedience in Colonel Roy Mustang’s office. Thankfully it wasn’t long before Lieutenant Breda, which was the portly one, came to collect him. Ed was sure the only reason Mustang had sent the man was to keep an eye on him. He hated the idea of it almost as much as he hated the idea of seeing a doctor to begin with.

He hated doctors and he hated hospitals and he hated automail mechanics. They were always trying to jab him with sharp things or trying to take him apart. He really just hated when people touched him at all. His mood must have shown on his face as Breda drove them to the hospital. He kept shooting glances at him as if he expected the alchemist to blow up at him.

The older man followed Edward into the office and sat with him until his name was called without saying a single thing.

Ed really didn’t have anything against the Breda, only that he worked for Mustang. But then Havoc worked for Mustang and so did Hawkeye and they were alright so maybe Breda was alright too. He was too distracted by the nurse to give it any more thought as she led him to a room and took notes on his height and weight. She counted his pulse and measured his blood pressure.

As she worked, she gave him gentle smiles that were probably meant to be encouraging and had no doubt worked on many kids before but Edward didn’t consider himself a kid and frankly found it insulting. He stared straight ahead at the wall and said nothing as she went about her job and tried not to flinch every time she touched him.

Eventually, the doctor walked in and she handed him the clipboard with her notes and left. Next to this stoic man, he’d almost wish for the nurse to stay instead.

“Mr. Edward Elric, thirteen years old,” he said as he flipped through the pages. He nodded along as he read the data. “Double amputation,” he said with a quick glance above his glasses at Edward’s shoulder and knees. He gave nothing away as he read and Edward started to fidget. He really really disliked doctors.

“Well,” he said with a sigh after a while, “you seem healthy enough. Your pulse is strong and your pressure is good.” He almost sounded bored. “You’re a tad underweight though, taking into account the automail.” The man studied his face then, no doubt noticing the dark circles. “Could do with a bit more sunshine and vitamins. Have you been eating and sleeping properly?”

Edward sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course he wasn’t eating or sleeping well. He shrugged vaguely instead of answering. The doctor was obviously used to dealing with difficult patients and he frowned. “You be honest with me boy,” he admonished. “It says here you were prescribed painkillers after your surgery. Your Commanding Officer told me you are still taking them. Why?”

Edward stared at him. “Because it still fucking hurts,” he snapped.

The man shook his head. “This medication is only meant to be taken short-term, to get you through post-surgery and physiotherapy. Afterwards, it’s standard to be prescribed a different medication to manage the pain,” he explained patiently. “Didn’t your doctor bring you in for a follow-up?”

Edward clenched his jaw but he had long learned that being difficult with medical staff meant he’d be kept in the hospital even longer. “No,” he answered grudgingly.

The man frowned and consulted his papers again. “Dr. Phillip Fenton is your doctor?” he asked, glancing up for the confirmation. Edward shrugged because he honestly hadn’t cared enough to learn the old man’s name.

“Dr. Fenton passed away a year ago. By all accounts you should still be in therapy, who are you seeing now if not Fenton?”

“No one,” he said with defiance.

The man stared at him and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Where did you get this medication?” he asked as if he was afraid of the answer.

Edward shrugged again. “I’m an alchemist,” he said simply. “It honestly wasn’t that hard to make.”

“You made your own medication?” he asked incredulously. “That’s incredibly dangerous and I must insist against it!” he said angrily.

“Fine!” Edward snapped back. “Then give me something that works!” He’d tried other things. He honestly had but the first one was the only one that seemed to numb the pain enough for him to function like a normal person.

The doctor wrote out a rather long prescription and for a while the only sound in the room was his angry scrawling. Then he ripped the paper off the clipboard and held it out. “Take this when you need it but not more than four doses in twenty-four hours. It’ll help manage the pain but that will only deal with the symptoms, not the cause,” the man went on, regaining some level of composure.

“The cause? Pretty sure the cause is getting my arm and leg ripped off but hey, I’m not the doctor,” Edward was quick to reply sarcastically.

The man set his clipboard down. “Turn and sit with your legs straight out on the gurney, please,” he said instead of responding. Edward did as he was told, scooting back and twisting his body so his legs were stretched out on the bed.

The doctor rummaged around in a drawer until he pulled out a tape measure. He first examined the port, wrapping his cold hands around Edward’s small thigh and giving it a gently squeeze with made the boy flinch. “It’s a bit swollen,” he said though it was more to himself than to his patient.

He then measured Edward’s legs. First the left from the hip down to the heel then the right and then the left again. He nodded as he carefully rolled the tape up again. “You’ve grown,” he declared.

“Really?”

“Yes. Quite a bit actually. You, boy, are in need of an adjustment. This is why we usually wait to do Automail,” he lectured patiently. “People your age aren’t done growing.”

Edward stared down at his legs then. He didn’t feel any taller.

“You see, your uneven gait is putting pressure on the port but more importantly, it’s pulling your hips out of alignment. That is affecting your spine which is pulling unevenly on your upper body. The muscles around your ribcage and shoulders are also feeling the strain.”

Edward stared at him. Everything the doctor had just said made a lot of sense and he kicked himself for not having thought of something as stupid and simple as having one leg grow longer than the other. In his defense, he hadn’t paid much attention to the automail lectures.

“Oh.”

The doctor gathered his instruments then and wrote some things down as he spoke. “Other than a bit of malnourishment, you are otherwise fine. I’ve prescribed you some medication for the pain and swelling as well as some vitamins but I think you’ll find that after the proper adjustments, you’ll start to feel better.”

He handed him another paper which Edward saw was a bill. “And no more playing pharmacist, you hear?” the man added.

Edward looked up from his paper properly chastised. “Yes, Sir,” he replied automatically.

The doctor seemed satisfied with that. “Now then, do you have a mechanic?”

Edward shook his head. He hadn’t seen a mechanic since he left CMH.

“Well, the best in the area of course, is Rockbell out in Res-“

“Hell no!” Edward cut in with force. The man was visibly startled at the outburst. “I am not going see Rockbell,” the boy went on before the doctor could say anything.

“O-kay…” The man frowned at the conviction but went on. “Well there are a few mechanics here in the city if you’re not willing to travel.”

He gave Edward a list of names and a final warning against making his own medicine as well as a new appointment to come back in two months for a follow- up then left.

Edward let himself out and found Lieutenant Breda still waiting for him. He handed the man the bill, unsure what to do with it.

Breda looked at it, raised an eyebrow and handed it back. “You’ll have to take it up with the Colonel, Fullmetal,” he said with a shrug. With a grumble, Edward shoved the bill into a pocket and the two walked back out to the car. As they left the lot, Breda turned to him slightly.

“Where to next Boss?”

“I need to see an Automail mechanic,” Edward answered morosely. He wasn’t looking forward to more poking and prodding but the prospect of not feeling like crap from dawn until dusk was incentive enough. He handed Breda the list the doctor had given him. “I don’t care which, just pick one. They’re all the same.”

Without another word, Breda turned left. In no time, they had pulled in front of a small and grungy looking clinic not far from the hospital and the man dutifully followed Edward inside. There were arms, legs, hands, feet and an assortment of other parts and gears covering every surface in the tiny space.

A young woman looked up from the cluttered front desk. “Hello,” she said. And like the man at Valleyview, she completely ignored Ed and addressed Breda. “Can I help you?”

“I need to have my leg adjusted,” Edward said loudly before Breda could say anything. He shot the man a glare even though he’d done nothing.

“Oh,” she said, leaning over the dirty desk to stare unashamedly at his legs. “Don’t you have a mechanic?” she asked.

“He kicked the bucket,” Edward replied flatly. “Can you fix it or not?”

The young woman leaned back and turned halfway around. “DAD!!!” she yelled, making the other two cringe. “CUSTOMERS!!!”

From the back, they heard someone approaching among the crash of metal tools and automail parts and a thin, balding man appeared. He had thick glasses perched on top of his head and was missing half an eyebrow. His apron was covered in grease and oil stains as well as something Edward was pretty sure was dried blood.

“He needs an adjustment,” she said pointing at Edward.

The man squinted at him until he pulled his glasses down and in front of his eyes and Edward exchanged a concerned glance with Breda. “Just get it over with,” he ground out.

For the next two hours, Edward sat uncomfortably in a worn leather chair with his leg propped up on a stool as the man first examined the leg then took it apart enough to get at the inner workings. Breda watched from the corner of the room, interested. Edward gritted his teeth and scowled the entire time. He was immensely uncomfortable with people touching him and that included his automail.

He almost snapped at the man on several occasions. At one point, the mechanic pinched a nerve somewhere and Edward saw spots swimming in his vision. Breda must have noticed him going pale because the next thing he knew the man was kneeling beside him, propping him up.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning down to get a better look at his face. Edward took a few deep breaths and nodded. For a second he felt like he was going to throw up again but thankfully it passed quickly.

“Is this normal?” the Lieutenant asked, concerned, and both Edward and the mechanic nodded.

“Almost done,” the mechanic assured him with a pat on his other knee. It was meant to be reassuring but Edward flinched away from the extra contact. The mechanic didn’t seem to notice as he reached back for a different tool but Breda frowned.

“I’m fine,” Edward mumbled, shrugging the other man’s hand off his shoulder. Breda didn’t protest now that he saw that Ed wasn’t going to pass out.

When the final plate was screwed back into place and when he got a nod of approval from the mechanic, Edward was quick to pull his pant leg down and squirm away from the man.

“You’re lucky,” he said as he wiped his hands on a grubby towel. “Your surgeon took your growth into account and left enough slack in the wiring for stretching out the limb. All I had to do was let out a bit of slack and add a segment to the main support column. You’ll likely need an adjustment every six months at your age until you’re about eighteen,” he explained and Edward groaned.

He did not want to keep doing this twice a year until he was an adult.

“Now then, anything else you need?” he asked, eyeing Edward’s metal hand.

The boy tucked it away and shook his head. He supposed he’d need an adjustment to his shoulder eventually too but he’d hit his quota for invasion of his personal space for the day.

The girl was quick to hand Breda a bill. The man looked at it then handed it to Edward like he had the hospital bill. And like the hospital bill, Edward shoved it into his pocket.

“Colonel Mustang’s office will be in touch,” Breda informed the girl before she could protest over not being paid. The fact that Breda was in full uniform counted for something because she nodded and let them leave without a fuss.

As they walked out, Breda checked the time. “Alright, we’ll head back to HQ and let the Colonel know how things went then you can probably go for the day,” he said.

Edward just nodded, thoroughly grumpy now. He just wanted to be alone and sleep.

As they walked to the car, he stumbled a little and steadied himself against the metal door. He looked down at his legs in surprise. It hadn’t hurt, necessarily. Just felt strange. He felt slightly off balance as he took a few steps around in a circle. Some muscles around his hips and lower back were stiff while others ached deeply but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. He allowed a small smile of wonder at the feeling. It disappeared just as quickly when he looked up and noticed Breda watching him with an amused grin.

Still though, it felt right. “Shut up,” he said, embarrassed.

Breda said nothing as they got into the car and he drove them back to HQ.

Thanks for Reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

It took him the better part of a week to pinpoint what it was but he had known right away that something had changed. Roy wouldn’t say he was surprised to see the boy show up (on time) for work on Monday morning but he did admit there was a part of him that had wondered if he would (and had been ready to march down to the dorms himself this time if he didn’t).

It was business as usual in the office. His staff worked diligently while Fullmetal carried out his sentence at the typewriter with a grudging determination. But something was different. They were small changes which is probably why he hadn’t notice right away.

Roy watched discreetly as the teen chatted with Breda before settling down to work. He looked well rested. That’s what it was. His shoulders didn’t slump as much and he actually laughed a little at one of Lt. Havoc’s raunchy jokes. But the biggest improvement was in his face. Since he’d met the thirteen year old State Alchemist, Roy had never seen him without dark circles around his eyes. The bruise he’d so eloquently stamped on the boy’s face was fading too. He looked youthful and happy.

Well, happy might be a bit too strong a word. He looked content.

Roy thought back at the things he’d noticed in passing over the week. He’d noticed the way Fullmetal joined the others for lunch. That in itself was a big change now that he thought about it. Before, he’d been invited but always refused. He’d seen the way he asked Fuery curious questions about his equipment. He noticed how the boy disappeared with Havoc whenever the man went to “stretch his legs” which was his way of saying he was stepping out for a smoke; that was different too. Riza even reported that he had surpassed her expectations at the firing range and was not a bad shot. Which, coming from her, was high praise.

She deemed him capable and filed the paperwork with the armoury to have Fullmetal armed. Which was a terrifying thought, in his personal opinion, but he understood her reasoning. He signed the form, after all.

He had noticed all of these things throughout the week but it wasn’t until Thursday morning when Riza brought Fullmetal a coffee and the boy actually smiled at her that it hit him.

That smile. It was a genuine smile.

With a satisfied smile of his own, he returned to his desk to work. He was glad he’d sent Fullmetal to see a doctor but horrified about the report he’d gotten back. The young alchemist had been making his own drugs! The thought of it made him shudder. It hit him again that he didn’t know what Fullmetal was truly capable of. He knew the kid was smart but making your own medicine? It was incredibly dangerous and foolish when you can just go to a pharmacy. One wrong calculation and the results could be fatal. But then again, that could be said of any form alchemy couldn’t it? It was a headache he didn’t want to deal with right now he set it aside.

The week bled into the next and before he knew it, it was halfway over. That was the day the call came in over the radio.

“Sir!” Fuery’s urgent call caught the attention of every person in the office. Roy rushed over to lean over the man, taking the offered ear and mouth piece and nodding as Fuery mouthed MP’s office.

“This is Colonel Mustang, what is your distress?” he asked calmly.

The man on the other end sounded urgent but calm. “Colonel, we are requesting backup from State Alchemists. Unknown number of rogue alchemists have taken hostages at the main Eastern Branch of the State Bank. Their demands are unclear at this time.”

Roy frowned. There were only three combat ready State Alchemists currently stationed in the immediate vicinity. Two were out on field missions. Shit.

“Understood, I’m on my way.”

He handed the equipment back to Fuery and started handing out orders. The office burst into a hive of activity at his command. As he grabbed his coat, pulled his gloves on and turned toward the door, he almost walked straight into Fullmetal.

The teen stood in his way, crossed his arms and declared, “I’m coming with you.”

Roy really didn’t have time for this. “No, you’re not,” he said firmly and attempted to walk around him. Fullmetal moved in his path again with steely determination.

“I’m a State Alchemist too!” he said with force. If Roy wasn’t so annoyed he’d admire the kid’s nerve.

“An untrained State Alchemist with a research grade license, and a criminal record as long on the first floor hallway,” he snapped unkindly, towering over the kid. “You are not coming.” He bodily shoved passed him on his way to the door and growled in frustration as the kid followed him anyway. He whirled on him angrily. “NO!” he just about shouted. “That’s an order!”

Fullmetal glared at him. “You want me to be combat grade!? How the hell am I supposed to learn anything about combat if you won’t let me be involved?” he retorted with just as much force. He placed his hands on his slim hips, the stock of the newly issued pistol sitting snugly in its holster peaking from under his arm. “I thought I was part of this team.”

This caught Roy by surprise like a stab in the chest. He’d said that hadn’t he? He really didn’t have time to deal with this but maybe the kid had a point. His eyes met Riza’s for a half second and he saw the nearly imperceptible shrug in the line of her shoulders. He growled in frustration. “Fine!” he relented. “But you stay with Lt. Havoc!”

He turned to the tall ginger haired man then. “He stays with you. He’s your responsibility!” he ordered as he turned away from the young alchemist and tried to ignore the grin that split the kid’s face. He nodded at Hawkeye and she fell in step behind him.

He tried to ignore the little smile on her face too.

The woman in charge was a tall and serious looking middle aged woman whose name tag read Cpt. Chase. Mustang led the way straight to her, people scrambling out of his way. Edward had to admit that the Flame Alchemist followed by a squad of soldiers in full uniform arriving on the scene to take charge was pretty badass. He stood out of course, given his age and bright red coat but if he cared, he’d be in uniform too. After exchanging quick formalities with the Colonel, she led them to a large paper that was spread out over the hood of one of the police cars. It was a schematic of the building across the street.

Ed looked over at its towering front columns as she spoke, only half listening. The front entrance had been sealed, likely with alchemy though it was hard to tell from here. He’d been inside only twice to manage his accounts here in East City and even then he’d only been inside the main lobby. It was one of Amestris’s oldest buildings at least three hundred years old and cast an imposing shadow over the street below.

“How many hostages?” Mustang asked in his deathly calm tone.

“We estimate roughly thirty five based on what the woman who was released was able to tell us.”

Mustang looked at her sharply, not bothering to hide the surprise. “They released a hostage?” Edward studied the man’s face and even in the short time he’d known him he knew this was his calculating face. His brows pinched slightly, his eyes unfocused and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.

The captain nodded grimly. “Yes, just before you arrived. They are demanding we allow them to walk free or they’ll blow up the building with themselves and all the hostages inside. She was able to verify that they did, in fact, have explosives. Also, she confirmed that one, if not all of them are alchemists,” she added significantly.

Mustang frowned then with one gloved finger curled over his mouth as his eyes scanned across the schematic. “This complicates things,” he said in a low voice, more to himself than anyone else.

With a nod of conviction, Mustang started to lay out a plan, leaning over the schematic with the woman, his gloved fingers pointing and jabbing at the paper as he spoke.

“Captain, I need a team positioned here, here and here.” He looked up then, his eyes searching over his men. “Lt Breda, take a team to cover the rear right alley exit,” he said and with a nod the man set off with a small group of soldiers and MPs. “Lt Havoc, take a team to cover the left.”

“Hawkeye-“

“Yes, Sir,” she said with a nod and disappeared in the crowd with her rifle over her shoulder.

Edward was still watching her go, confused by the fact that the colonel never actually gave her an order and slowly convincing himself that the two of them could speak telepathically when he realised that Mustang was staring at him. “Fullmetal!” he barked with raised eyebrows and a piercing look that had Edward suddenly feeling like he wasn’t where he was supposed to go.  “With Lt. Havoc,” Mustang growled pointedly.

The teen noticed then that the lieutenant had already walked away without him and he actually rolled his eyes before trotting to catch up with the taller man.

“Gotta keep up, kid,” Havoc said with a grin as they made their away into the alley. Some of the MPs gave him sideways glances, no doubt trying to figure out what the hell he was even doing here. He really didn’t care.

That’s how Edward ended up in the back alley behind the East City Bank on Thursday morning surrounded by a team of four MPs, Second Lt. Havoc and two men in military blues whose names he couldn’t remember. They worked for Mustang anyway. The others all had their handguns drawn and waited. The teen fidgeted but refused to draw his own newly issued pistol. After a while, he glanced over at Havoc whose eyes were trained on the spot where the door should have been. In its place was a solid stone wall with the telltale signs of alchemy all over it.

“Why are we just standing around doing fuck all? Let’s just bust in there and take them down,” he hissed to the older man.

Havoc never took his eyes off his target. “Those aren’t our orders Chief,” he said with a hint of amusement. Edward knew the man agreed with him though.

He scoffed. “Do you always follow orders?”

This time Havoc did spare him a glance, aware of the others around them. “Yes,” he said flatly.

“Well, I still think it’s dumb,” Edward muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the brick wall. He wasn’t one to follow the rules. That should have been obvious by now. If life had taught him anything it was that when you had impossible goals you’d never accomplish anything by playing by the rules.

Especially when the game was rigged.

Still though, there were times when he could get away with it and others where he had to play nice. With a sigh, he resigned himself to follow orders and fucking wait. It wasn’t long before Mustang’s voice carried over from the front of the building and Ed guessed the man must be using a megaphone.

“You are completely surrounded. Release the hostages and surrender yourself peacefully. You have ten minutes to comply peacefully before we are coming in.”

Edward frowned at his. “Why give them the choice? I mean it’s not like they offered those hostages a choice. They don’t deserve it,” he grumbled darkly.

Havoc joined him in leaning against the wall though he was obviously still very alert, his eyes scanning the area constantly. “That’s because we aren’t criminals,” he replied evenly.

“Ha!” Edward barked out a laugh. “Speak for yourself!” he retorted sardonically which earned him quite a few concerned looks from the others around them. He didn’t actually consider himself a criminal. Of course his criminal record said otherwise but he wasn’t sure how much of that Havoc was aware of. To be fair, he’d never held up a bank before or threatened to blow up civilians with a bomb. He watched the man beside him give him a side-eyed glance before inching away.

Let them think what they want. He answered the stares with a devilish grin that was all teeth and could have sworn he heard the lieutenant mutter brat under his breath.

Edward would have laughed outright but his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere.

It was a feeling he knew deep in his bones. The shift in the earth’s energy as it powered a transmutation nearby. At the first spark of blue energy dancing over the surface of the sealed door, his heart jumped into his throat. There was a lot of energy converging in one spot.

“Get down!” he shouted as the stone wall exploded outward.

The alley erupted into absolute chaos. Shards of brick and stone shot out like bullets, the team’s vision suddenly obscured by a thick and billowing cloud of brick dust. Edward felt debris bite into the skin on his face as he ducked down to shield himself, metal arm coming up to take the brunt of the impacts.

He wasn’t prepared for the actual bullets. He looked up in time to see the silhouetted figures in the open doorframe and it took his brain a half second too long to register that they were armed and there was nowhere to take cover.

Shots were fired from both sides in a sudden deafening barrage of bullets. Edward heard something ping off his metal shoulder as he ducked down again with a string of curses. The officer who’d been standing to his left crumpled under the rain of bullets, the one on his right stepped in front of him to shield him.

He fell too and Edward was left staring wide-eyed and numb with someone else’s blood spattered on his face as the only remaining gunman took his chance to make a run for it.

The alley was not more than six feet wide and a gunfight was not something you wanted to do at close range. The alchemist looked down on the man who’d protected him and wondered if he had family waiting for him at home as his blood dripped slowly down Edward’s face and soaked into the collar of his shirt. He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away, his body refusing to respond though his breaths were coming in faster with each inhale.

Move!

Edward’s’ eyes snapped up to the retreating back of the enemy. “Right,” he said under his breath and swallowed thickly.

With a chilling calm that came with practice, he pushed to his feet and at the same time, packaged all the emotions into a tight little bundle and shoved them into a corner of his mind to deal with later. Right now he had work to do.

Seventy five meters to the end of the alley.

Edward brought his hands together and touched the ground. The energy of his transmutation shot forward faster than the man could run and a solid wall made of brick and stone spanned the alley from one side to the other, four meters tall.

He transmuted his automail into a blade as he ran. The man at the wall didn’t raise his weapon fast enough as Edward lunged, the alchemically sharpened blade slicing clean through the weapon and possibly a finger, he neither knew nor cared. The man yelped and took a step back.

Edward saw his opportunity and aimed a solid kick to his opponent’s knee. The man stumbled backwards with a grunt but didn’t go down. He took a swing at the younger but Edward danced backwards out of reach which earned him a frustrated growl from the much bigger man. He vaguely heard movement behind him from the other end of the alley but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the man for a second.

He dodged another lunge and the man roared in frustration. “Quit dancing around like a little monkey brat!”

Edward grinned and aimed another well placed kick at his face as the bigger man leaned down to grab him. His automail foot made contact with the guy’s mouth. He stumbled a little but there wasn’t enough force to make him fully lose his footing. He made a grab for the alchemist’s ankle and Edward squawked in surprise when his leg stopped suddenly, gripped firmly in a giant hand.

“Enough!” the man shouted, lifting the much smaller alchemist right off his feet by one ankle and, with a powerful swing, sending him slamming into the nearest brick wall of the alley.

The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and he slid down the wall into a crumpled, heaving mess on the ground.

His first mistake had been to underestimate the force it would take to bring this man down. His second was assuming he only had one gun. When Edward looked up he was met with the barrel of a gun and the cold eyes of a murderer. He stopped breathing in that one awful moment and convinced himself that this, this was going to be how he died.

In a fucking alley. He didn’t look away or try to move. Where would he go with the gun literary paces away from his face?

“Fuck.”

Then from nowhere, there was Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc.

He stepped forward with purpose and with a short quick motion, clamped his left hand down on the barrel of the gun with a practiced ease, twisting it down and away from himself and the teen. The guy tried to pull back on instinct but Havoc stepped forward with force and rammed his right fist into the guy’s throat while he twisted the weapon further. In a smooth motion he brought his right fist back towards his body, down and out again to grab the hammer. With one final aggressive twist he broke the other man’s grip on the weapon and stepped back.

Edward stared in awe as the lieutenant came away holding the enemy’s gun. “On the ground, hands on your head!” he commanded. The teen didn’t even feel embarrassed that the lieutenant had stepped in to save him. He was impressed by that move because holy fuck that was cool.

With a jolt he realised that the others (those that could) had regrouped and surrounded the big man in a semi-circle.

When the bad guy realised this, he spread his arms out in surrender.

Havoc never took his eyes off his target. “GET ON THE GROUND HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” he shouted. “NOW!”

The man complied, sinking first to his knees and then down on his stomach with a humourless chuckle. With half a dozen guns trained on him Edward had to wonder what the fuck he found so funny.

Havoc wasted no time. In one swift motion, he took out the clip from the gun he’d seized and tossed it and the gun in opposite directions before approaching the man. The lieutenant kneeled on the man’s back, twisting his arms so they crossed behind his back. One of the officers in black uniform stepped forward and offered a pair of handcuffs.

“You’re under arrest you asshole,” he spat as he clamped the metal down on the man’s wrists. He turned to Edward then. “You alright?”

The alchemist nodded grimly. He had a feeling he’d wake up to some pretty impressive bruising on his back and his face stung from the superficial cuts but he was otherwise okay. He must be a sight to behold though, covered in blood. Most of it wasn’t even his blood and the thought made his stomach churn.

Havoc turned to the new wall then. “You did this?”

At Edward’s nod the lieutenant let out an impressed whistle. “Wow.”

Edward didn’t want any praise. Two men had died in front of him and next to the lieutenant’s impressive disarming and take down of the bad guy, a basic alchemy hat trick meant absolutely nothing to him. He scowled and looked away. His gaze landed on the bad guy and their eyes met.

“What’s a kid like you doing here,” the man spat. Edward was satisfied to note that his lip was bleeding freely from the kick to the face.

“Out for a morning stroll,” he deadpanned, wiping the blood off his own face with his sleeve.

The guy laughed and the effect was admittedly unhinged. Havoc spared him a disgusted glance. “How many others are there?” he questioned.

The man didn’t answer. Havoc grabbed the hair on the back of his head roughly and lifted his head so their eye could meet.

“How many?” he demanded.

The man laughed. “Doesn’t matter,” he growled with a self-satisfied grin.

The men around them exchanged perplexed glances. Gingerly, Edward got to his feet. He supposed he’d need to take the wall down otherwise their only other way out was through the bank.

“What the hell does that mean?” Lt. Havoc asked with a deadly calm tone that Edward had never heard before and holy shit, he hadn’t realised how scary the man could be.

He didn’t have to answer.

The relative calm was rocked by an explosion that Edward felt in his chest. It felt like it came from below ground, the shock sending them all to their knees as another billowing cloud of dust erupted from the door, the glass on every window on the second floor exploded outward from the built-up pressure. Shards of glass rained down on them as they choked on the fine dust.

He couldn’t see Havoc anymore but he heard the man shout a string of curses and he heard the crazy guy’s unhinged laughter and for a split second it felt like time stood still.

He felt someone’s hand on his shoulder.

It’s coming down!

Edward’s heart leapt to his throat but he couldn’t see anyone in the thick cloud. The building groaned deeply followed by sharper splintering cracks and he knew what he had to do.

The building was indeed coming down. It was coming down on top of them, on top Breda’s team on the other side and on top of everyone still inside.

Edward surged forward as he brought his hands together, crossed the alley until his hands slammed into the wall on the other side and with a feral shout he pushed the transmutation deep into the structure of the building feeling every beam, every brick and tile. His mind ran the calculation on the fly mostly on autopilot as he let Truth’s knowledge take over.

It was so much. Too much! With a strangled cry he felt the power grow rampant, slipping away from him. He reined it in, just barely, sinking it into the foundations where there was the most damage. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath coming in sharp and ragged and his heart pounded with the exertion.

The transmutation started to slip away again, pulling him in. It threatened to tear him to pieces. The beautiful electric blue light flashed a sickly violet and he felt himself start to panic. No no no not again.

He’d seen this before; a rebound. The transmutation he was attempting, to keep the building from crushing them all, was drawing more power than he could give. He couldn’t draw it up from the earth fast enough to power the array but it was too far gone now that breaking it off could do just as much damage not to mention kill everyone under tons of stone.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted to no one in particular. “Help me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as he tried to focus on keeping the transmutation in check. Hands on his shoulders made him snap his head up, the momentary distraction causing the transmutation to fluctuate wildly before he turned his attention back to it, forcing himself to concentrate.

But it was easier.

Whoever had his back, literally, was pushing power into the transmutation and with that extra power Edward was finally able to fix it to the places he wanted it. He concentrated on the structural integrity of the foundation as he melded solid stone and steel together. At the same time, a dome made of polished marble floor tiles sprang up in the main lobby of the bank and shielded the crowd of hogtied hostages.

Pillars of brick and wood and twisted office furniture sprouted along the main, second and third storeys holding everything in place until it stopped moving.

After what felt like ages, he ended the transmutation with a strangled cry and a strange silence broken only by the random clattering of debris, descended over them.

Edward’s arms felt like dead weight as he dropped his hands to his sides and he swayed on his feet momentarily. He felt suddenly very dizzy. One second he was on his feet and the next sprawled on his back with golden eyes that were so much like his own staring down at him. He blinked and it was Mustang’s and Havoc’s concerned faces looming over him.

The moment Edward opened his eyes, Mustang breathed out a sigh of relief and Havoc held a hand out to help the alchemist sit up.

“Take it easy,” the lieutenant said, handing him a tin cup of water. “You blacked out there for a minute. You okay?”

Edward nodded and was suddenly acutely aware that he’d been moved from the alley. He was on the sidewalk across the street and he blinked against sunlight. His mouth was pasty from all the brick dust he’d breathed in and he felt shaky and weak like he’d just run a marathon. Frowning, Havoc took his left wrist, placing his fingers on his pulse and stared at his watch while he counted the beats. It was obvious he noticed the trembling.

He turned to Mustang then, talking over Edward like he wasn’t there. “Is this normal?” he asked the older alchemist, concern clear in his voice.

Mustang nodded, looking down at his subordinate with a thoughtful expression. “With a transmutation that big, I’m surprised he’s not dead,” he said flatly and Edward heard the reprimand for what it was.

“Love you too asshole,” he croaked.

“It’s acute exhaustion,” the colonel went on addressing Havoc as if he hadn’t heard. “Bit of rest and he’ll be fine unless he tries something idiotic like that again before he’s fully recovered.” The last bit was directed to Edward. With that, Mustang got to his feet and directed his attention elsewhere.

Havoc stayed with him, watching him like a hawk. Edward supposed that was part of his job being the team medic. He didn’t say a word, just sat there on the sidewalk beside him. When he pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Edward silently, the teen took it with shaking fingers.

He was acutely aware of the stares and after a full minute he growled in frustration. “What?” he hissed to the man beside him, “hasn’t anyone ever seen a teenager smoke before?” It was mostly rhetorical but Havoc gave him an odd look before answering.

“That’s not why they’re staring,” he said as if it should be obvious. He pointed across the street and Edward saw his handiwork all over the building for the first time.

“They’re staring because they’ve never seen an alchemist single-handedly stop a massive stone building from imminent collapse, saving the lives of fifty two people. Especially not a teenage alchemist.” Havoc gave him an unreadable expression. “Seriously that was probably the most fucking insane thing I’ve ever seen.”

Edward blushed. He hated it but he felt the red creep up his neck all the way to the tops of his ears. “I wasn’t gonna just let those people die! And by those people that includes us so you’re welcome,” he snapped. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t deal with praise well.

Havoc chuckled and ruffled his hair before getting to his feet. “Stay put, I mean it,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Edward watched the man go then returned his gaze to the bank while he smoked.

Single handed? He knew that wasn’t quite right. Things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did if he hadn’t had help. He didn’t know what was happening but he frowned as a theory started to form in his mind. One that was both terrifying and gave him hope at the same time.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

There was no answer but he smiled anyway. Someone was listening.

Thanks for Reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

June 9, 19xx

Dear Al,

             ...

 

Edward stared at the paper and didn’t know what to write. It was late (or was it early? It didn’t matter) and he sat at the small desk in his dorm room staring at the paper, his metal thumb tapping restlessly against the table. He leaned back with a huff as he dropped the pen and rubbed at his face with his left hand.

What the hell was he supposed to say? “Hey sorry for ripping your soul from your body and leaving you in a weird state of disembodiment. Oh and maybe somehow got our souls tangled in the process. Oops.”

For the longest time, he’d assumed that Al’s mind had been the price he’d paid for his involvement in the transmutation. That if he could just find the right calculation, the right array and find a way to pay the price without losing any more limbs (though he would if he had to, there was no point denying it) he could fix his baby brother. It was quantifiable; the functions of the brain had been extensively studied.

But his soul?

He scanned the pile of books on the desk. He’d have to go back to the library now that he had a new direction for his research. His eyes landed on the gardening book again and he pulled it out of the pile. He planned to read through again even if it took all night. There was something  useful there, he just knew it. Tucking the book under one arm, he picked up the pen and finished his letter with a single sentence before closing the journal and shuffling over to his bed to read. There wasn’t much to say.

                June 9, 19xx

Dear Al,

                What is the worth of a human soul?

                                E.

Chapter Text

When Fullmetal walked into his office the next day, he was late. He also looked like crap. Roy frowned when he noticed the boy’s bloodshot eyes, his attempts to stifle the yawn and the way he dragged his feet.

“I thought I ordered you to rest,” he commented drily. By the looks of him, the boy had pulled on all-nighter.

The teen shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said vaguely as he flopped down in the chair.

Roy cleared his throat and let it pass. He could hardly pester the kid over one bad night. As long as he didn’t make a habit of it.

 “There is to be a service tomorrow in honour of the men who died during the hostage situation yesterday,” the colonel said without preamble. “You are expected to attend.” The man eyed Edward’s wrinkled clothes that had clearly been slept in. “You’ll be required to wear your dress uniform,” he offered in case the boy was not familiar with protocol for this sort of thing.

Fullmetal frowned as he shook his head. “I don’t have one,” he said, annoyed.

Roy stared at him. “You don’t…. do you even have a regular uniform?” he asked as he realised that he’d never seen him in one.

 “No. I’ve never been required to wear a uniform,” the boy said with a shrug.

Roy frowned at this. “Never?”

“Nope.”

After Roy stared at him at a loss for words, Fullmetal crossed his arms with a huff. “They told me it was for the best that I don’t ‘draw attention to myself’ and sent me on my merry way,” he offered as an explanation.

Roy eyed the bright red coat and chose not to comment on how the boy had spectacularly failed at that.

“I see,” was all he managed. More likely, it was so that the Brass didn’t draw attention to themselves with their questionable ethics.

“Well, regardless, this is a funeral so you need to dress accordingly,” he went on evenly. “Go down to the supply clerk’s office and get one before tomorrow. I’ll call ahead to make sure you’ve got all the proper embellishments for your uniform.”

The young alchemist scowled, clearly not happy about it but he nodded anyway. He may hate the military but surely even he was not so petty as to show up to a funeral underdressed. Especially considering one of the men being honoured had saved his life.

“Fine,” he muttered even as he fidgeted.

Roy watched him a moment, the ever present frown on his face. “How are you doing?” he asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” was the boy’s automatic reply. He clearly wasn’t. Roy was not in the habit of prying but he didn’t have a clear grasp on the kid’s mental integrity yet and he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss something crucial. Something was obviously bothering him. If he were to wager a guess, it could be guilt. He waited.

Fullmetal swallowed, fidgeting a little. “One of them took a bullet for me,” he said softly after a while. It was a detached sort of observation, morose sure, but not stricken. It was curiosity more than anything else.

Roy’s expression remained neutral as he waited for the teen to continue. The boy met his eyes with a frown and genuine confusion. “Why would he do that?”

Roy nodded. So it was guilt then. “Easy,” he said and his voice held a certain warmth to it, “he did it to protect you.”

Edward scowled. “I didn’t ask for him to do that. He should have just minded his own business,” he blurted as he sat forward on the edge of his seat, clasping his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees. Roy watched those hands carefully.  

“It doesn’t matter what you wanted,” the colonel said bluntly. “It was in his nature to protect so when he saw someone that needed to be protected he stepped in. Some people are just like that.” He leaned back and studied his youngest subordinate. “And it’s quite normal to feel guilty when you survive where others don’t,” he went on.

Edward looked at him sharply, a range of emotions flashing through those golden eyes. Then he scoffed. “Whatever,” he mumbled, crossing his arms moodily. “Was there something else you needed?”

Roy continued to watch him carefully for a moment trying to decide if this was worth pushing but with a shrug he chose to let it go. The boy was in the thick of it now, he’d surely see many more deaths before he was done his service.

But it didn’t explain the fidgeting. He narrowed his eyes. “Why? Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked suspiciously.

They stared at each other with a silent battle of wills but the boy caved first, letting out a frustrated growl. “I have stuff I want to look up at the library,” he huffed with a healthy dose of annoyance and so much attitude that Roy almost laughed. He’d imagined far worse situations than the boy being antsy because he couldn’t get the library fast enough. His careful mask almost cracked as a smirk tried to pull at his mouth.

He raised an eyebrow instead, making Fullmetal squirm. He shouldn’t take as much pleasure in making the boy squirm as he did. “Really? The library?” he drawled flatly.

Fullmetal scowled but didn’t respond. He looked away uncomfortably, his eyes darting briefly over his shoulder as he muttered something as if he were talking to someone. Roy’s eyes scanned the spot at the back of the office but it was just the two of them and the door was closed. When he returned his gaze to the boy he found Edward watching him as if he expected the older man to say something.

Roy was starting to get concerned. Riza had mentioned something about Edward talking to himself frequently. The boy was definitely acting weird. Before he could form his question, Edward spoke up.

“Do you believe in the existence of the soul?” he asked suddenly.

To his credit, Roy was able to keep his face neutral even as his thoughts were derailed by that statement. He blinked and his second eyebrow rose to meet the first high up on his forehead.

“I’m sorry?” he managed politely.

Edward sprung to his feet and started pacing. Roy followed the movement carefully. Pacing was not good.

“Like, there’s the mind and body but what about the soul? What is it made of? Can it be interacted with? Traded? If you took the soul out of one person and put it in another, would those two people even be the same people? Can anyone even prove that it exists?”

The young alchemist stopped his pacing to stare imploring at the older man. Roy made a few starts as he struggled to find the words. What the hell was happening right now? He called the kid in to make sure he had a proper uniform for a funeral and somehow got this was starting to sound dangerously close to human transmutation.

He pinned the boy with a stern look and Edward stopped pacing. “What is this really about?” he asked calmly in the wake of the outburst.

Edward fidgeted, clacking his metal fingers together as he chewed on his lower lip.

“I’ve been hearing a voice,” he said at length and all Roy could focus on at the moment was the metal clack of the boy’s automail fingers and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Roy stared at him with a carefully blank expression for a solid minute before he pushed his chair away from his desk and got to his feet methodically. Without a word he walked over the filing cabinet in the corner, flipped through several folders and retrieved a paper. He walked back to his desk fully aware of the golden eyes tracking his every move, waiting for him to say something.

He sat down at his desk and starting filling in the blank spaces on the paper.

“What’s that?” Fullmetal asked nervously.

Roy wrote out a few more lines before answering. “This is form #3891-5B,” he said evenly. “It’s a referral for a subordinate’s psychological evaluation.”

He managed several more lines before his statement sank in.

“I’m not crazy!!” Edward burst out.

Roy looked up from his form with an unimpressed expression. “You are literally standing in my office right now telling me that you’re hearing voices,” he said flatly.

“One!” the boy snapped. “I’m hearing one voice!”

“Is that supposed to make this less concerning?” Roy retorted as he continued filling in the form.

Has the subordinate been acting recklessly in the last six months?                      Yes         No

Has the subordinate put themselves or others at risk with their behaviour?          Yes         No

Has the subordinate --------------------------------

Roy startled slightly as the page was snatch away from him and looked up to meet angry golden eyes.

“Will you stop that!” the boy hissed, scrunching up the paper. “Just listen to me. I am not crazy. Look I-” and the pacing started again. “I know how I sound okay? I questioned my own sanity for a while but this…this makes sense.”

“You know I have more of those forms right?” Roy answered, crossing his arms.

Edward rolled his eyes, tossed the ball of paper back and glared at him. Roy sighed and gestured to the chair. “Just sit down,” he ordered with exasperation. Honestly the pacing was getting on his nerves more than anything else.

“This… voice-” he started, linking his fingers together as he leaned on them and tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He also tried to decide if this thought had merit or if he was listening to the ranting of a truly disturbed individual.

“My brother’s voice. Al’s voice,” Fullmetal cut in with force, refusing to sit.

“Okay…Your bother,” he humored. “The one that’s currently a patient at an asylum for the insane,” he went on pointedly.

The boy shot him a dirty look. “It’s a hospital,” he muttered.

“Okay, your brother who is currently a resident of a long term hospital,” Roy amended carefully, “is somehow speaking to you in your head?” he asked slowly.

Fullmetal frowned at him. “I know what you’re thinking,” he shot back. He clenched his fists at his side and let out a long suffering sigh as he finally sat back down and met the colonel’s eyes imploringly.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Roy defended, holding his hands up. “But yes, for the record you do sound crazy.”

The boy was silent for a long moment as he processed his thoughts. “That night, the night I lost him....I tried to resurrect my mom.” He spoke so quietly Roy wasn’t sure he’d heard that right.

“I drew the array for human transmutation on the floor in the basement of our house, collected the ingredients for an adult human body and broke the taboo,” he admitted, watching Roy carefully with intense golden eyes. His voice was steady as he said it.

Roy closed his eyes in turn and took a deep breath. Of course it was Human Transmutation. He opened his eyes again and took in the young brilliant alchemist in front of him and frowned. Human Transmutation at eleven years old?

“Who taught you alchemy,” he asked at length.

Edward shook his head. “No one; I taught myself from the books in my father’s study. It wasn’t that hard honestly. I had an entire library of complex alchemy at my disposal and humans are made so cheaply,” he added callously.

Roy’s frown deepened and he made a mental note to look into the boy’s father. The man wasn’t listed in Fullmetal’s file.

“What’s your father’s name?” he asked next.

But Edward shook his head again. “I’m not going to talk about that bastard,” he spat with venom. “He bailed on us when I was five and left Mom all alone to look after two little kids. I couldn’t care less if he was dead in a ditch somewhere,” he added and Roy could tell that he meant it. Still, this man was clearly someone the military should be keeping an eye on.

He let it drop and steered the conversation back to the transmutation. “What happened after that?”

The boy shrugged. “It went south,” he said airily. “Rebound took my leg clean off mid-thigh. Lots of blood, you know… But Alphonse…”

Roy ignored the way the young alchemist was so off-hand about his injury.

“Alphonse was gone.”

“What do you mean gone? Where did he go?”

“He vanished, taken by the transmutation.”

Roy made a face. “People don’t just vanish into thin air,” he countered.

Edward leaned forward. “I saw him get deconstructed in front of my eyes,” he said intensely. “He was just…. Gone.”

That was impossible, right? And yet, just a month ago, he would have said that performing alchemy without a transmutation circle was also impossible but here he was proven wrong. Just yesterday he’d watched this alchemist perform a large scale transmutation with nothing but his hands and his mind.

He narrowed his eyes. His brother was not gone anymore. “What did you do?” He was almost afraid to know.

Fullmetal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve never told anyone this before but that night, I didn’t break the taboo just once,” he admitted quietly. “During the rebound, I was taken to the Gates of Truth. It’s where all things are balanced. I saw things there. I learned and understood alchemy on a level that I never thought possible and when I came back I…” He had been speaking with a detached calmness until this point but his voice broke a little then.

Roy listened with horrified fascination.

“I used that knowledge to bring Alphonse back. I had to trade my arm to do it but it worked. Sort of,” he winced, “Mostly.”

Roy continued to stare at the boy.

“I was able to reconstruct his body but Al wasn’t quite right. He was hale but it wasn’t him. For the longest time I thought I’d gotten it wrong but what if…”

Roy didn’t know what he could possible say to that.

“What if,” the boy went on with conviction, “it’s not his mind that’s missing but his soul?”

“You,” he said at length, “at eleven years old, performed human transmutation twice, the second time on your brother mostly successfully,” he summarized to make sure he’d understood this unexpected confession. Could he get arrested for knowing this and not reporting it? The brass already knew about the boy’s transgressions so maybe he could pretend he didn’t know?

Edward nodded.

Roy let his careful masks fall away a he rubbed his face with his hands. He was honestly still considering filling out that form at this point. He really wanted to take a swig of that whiskey he kept hidden on his bookshelf right now. This boy will be the death of him.

Fullmetal met his eyes again and frowned. “Say something,” he said almost pleadingly.

Roy clasped his hands together in front of his mouth as he leaned on his fists, forming his words carefully before he spoke. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to believe me when I tell you I’m not fucking crazy!” Edward said as he threw his hands up. “Al is somehow connected to me and I am hearing his voice.”

Roy didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was not doing a great job at convincing the older man that he hadn’t lost his marbles. “Well I can’t say I’m one hundred percent there yet,” the colonel admitted, playing with his pen absently. “But then I’m not an expert when it comes to alchemy of…the soul. I’m sorry I won’t be much help on the matter,” he offered. It was true. His expertise was fire not existential philosophy.”

Edward deflated somewhat. “Neither am I, that’s why I need to go to the library.” He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and yawned.

Roy stifled his own yawn and glared at the kid. “You stayed up all night reading didn’t you?” he admonished and he knew this was true by the sheepish grin he got in response. “You still have a report to write about your part in the incident and I expect it by noon,” he said sternly, offering a few blank papers.

Fullmetal rolled his eyes and got to his feet snatching the papers and trudge over to the couch. Roy chose not say anything as the boy got comfortable and started writing. The subject of human transmutation had been deliberately dropped but still weighed heavily on both their minds.

Thirty minutes later when Riza knocked and poked her head in the door, Roy looked up from the form he was working on and put a finger to his lips, his head nodding to the side of the room. When she looked, Edward Elric was laying on the soft cushions, deeply asleep.

She nodded in understanding and walked in quietly to hand him papers that needed his attention. He ignored the smirk that pulled at her mouth.

Roy rolled his eyes. “He’s no use to me exhausted,” he whispered with a shrug at her silent teasing. She never said a word as they exchanged files but the grin never went away.

He made to hand her the last file but hesitated, pulling it back toward him. At her questioning glance, he said “I think I’ll hang on to this one for now” and he placed in one of his drawers.

Riza nodded and quietly padded across the office, sending a warm look on the sleeping alchemist before the closed the door with a soft clack.

Roy stood and walked to the window, looking out at the parade grounds the way he did when he was thinking. Human transmutation and the human soul? He shook his head. How the hell did he get caught up in this shit. With a careful look around, he poured a finger of whiskey into his coffee mug. If that conversation didn’t deserve a stiff drink he didn’t know what did.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Edward tugged at his sleeve as he walked. He had his hat was tucked under one arm and a small rattling box under the other. The fabric was stiff and uncomfortable and he hated every inch of it. His long golden hair, still damp from the shower fell over one shoulder as he strode through the halls of Eastern Command. He glared at anyone who dared to stare.

He felt ridiculous wearing an official military dress uniform (tailored by yours truly to fit his small frame) and didn’t feel like he deserved it. He felt like a kid wearing his father’s clothes. 

His teammates looked up when he walked in and Breda did a double take. Edward glared at him too. Then he glanced around and spotted Hawkeye, in her own neatly pressed dress uniform. “Where’s Colonel Bastard?” he growled.

The woman frowned at him but her expression softened when her eyes landed on the unadorned uniform and the small box. “He’s not in yet but I can help you with that,” she offered, holding her hand out. He scowled a bit but handed her the box anyway.

It was a jumbled pile of pins, buttons and a thickly braided golden rope.

Edward stood perfectly still as Hawkeye pinned and placed each item with care and steady hands in the correct place on his uniform. He tried to keep track of it all. He didn’t know what it all meant but he recognised more than a few of them.

“Your watch?” she asked when she was done with everything in the box.

Edward pulled the heavy thing from his pocket and she attached the long chain where it belonged. Then she stepped back and looked him over, her eyes scanning every inch of his new uniform with a critical eye from his epaulettes to his shined dress shoes. She then pulled a hair clip from her desk and held it up.

“May I?” she asked.

Edward squirmed uncomfortably, the tight collar feeling like a hangman’s noose but he nodded. With gentle and steady hands, Hawkeye moved behind him, gathered his fine hair and pinned it up off his neck. She was just adjusting his collar and smoothing non-existent wrinkles when Mustang and Havoc walked in. It was Edward who did a double take.

The men looked very different in the smart dark uniforms. The colonel’s hair was slicked back and Havoc was almost unrecognisable cleanly shaven and with his hat coming down low over his eyes.

Mustang frowned at his youngest subordinate and Edward glared back. He’d done everything he’d been asked so whatever issue the colonel had with his uniform was his problem not Ed’s. For just a second though, a pained expression flashed across his face at the sight of the teen in an official military uniform but he schooled his features quickly and cleared his throat. “Are you ready?” he asked, addressing everyone. Breda got to his feet, pulling his own hat on over his head. Fuery and Falman, Edward noticed, were dressed in their every day blues so he assumed they were staying behind.

“Yes, Sir,” Hawkeye replied as she grabbed her coat. Mustang did not spare a second glance to Edward as he turned and led the way back out.

The service was a somber affair, as they always are but with added ceremony as the military personnel outnumbered the grieving family and friends. Edward couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had bothered to ask the family what they wanted. He hated funerals. He felt like an interloper and the feeling was made worse whenever he got a second look from someone.

He remembered Mom’s funeral and how the entire village had showed up. He remembered watching Mrs. Klark bawl her eyes out even though the woman had never said a single nice thing about Trisha Elric in her life. He remembered wanting all those people to just go away and leave him, Al and the Rockbells alone to deal with their grief.

Was he a Mrs. Klark today?

He zoned out while people stood on the dais and spoke. After, he followed his team around without saying a word and if at least one of them was always next to him, well he didn’t notice.  He was never alone until he was.

The ceremony was over and he’d lost sight of Second Lieutenant Breda as the man stopped to have a conversation with someone he knew. Edward walked back to the car to wait. He leaned on the hot metal when a woman approached him. He’d seen her sitting with the family and the sight of her now, coming towards him deliberately, made him squirm uncomfortably in his starched uniform.

“Are you the Fullmetal Alchemist?” she asked and he wanted to vanish.

He cleared his throat and lifted his chin a fraction, standing straight to hide his nervousness. “Yes,” he said warily.

“My name is Caroline,” she said. “Andrew was my brother.”

Was that his name? He probably should have paid attention. Did she know that her brother’s blood had been spattered across his face just a couple days ago? If the ground could open up and swallow him right now that would be great. She spared him having to answer.

“Thank you,” she said with an amount of sincerity he couldn’t understand.

Edward stared at her, confused.

“For what?” he managed with a grimace, his words coming out hoarse. He hated the way his voice betrayed him and even more that he wasn’t very good at keeping his thoughts off his face.

“You’re the one who saved all those people aren’t you?” At his slow nod, she went on. “Even though my brother was killed in action, I’m glad he didn’t die in vain because those civilians were saved. So thank you, on his behalf.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. “He, uh. He took a bullet for me,” he managed in a small voice.

She smiled fondly. “That doesn’t surprise me, the idiot,” she said.

“Well,” a harsh voice cut in and Caroline startled a little. Edward kept his cool as he slid his eyes away from the young woman to a much older woman that had come up behind her. She was livid and barely holding it in. “Maybe if they didn’t let incompetent rookies be involved in dangerous situations, Andrew wouldn’t have been distracted babysitting and he’d still be alive,” she shreiked with venom.

Edward’s eyes narrowed into a glare just as Caroline’s face contorted into shock as she whipped around to face the woman. “Auntie!!” she exclaimed, scandalised.

 The woman pointed an accusing finger at the alchemist. “You should be ashamed of yourself, you had no business being there that day,” she spat at him. “I don’t know what they were playing at, sending a little boy into a situation like that,” she seethed.

Edward glared at her and said nothing. Caroline twisted her fingers together anxiously. “Auntie, you are making a scene!” she admonished weakly.

“Well?” the older woman continued, ignoring her niece completely. “What have you got to say for yourself?” she demanded.

Edward’s choice of words ranged from I’m sorry to go fuck yourself you old hag but he wisely kept his jaws clenched shut and glowered, grateful for once that the low brim of his hat hid his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides. On a scale of one to ten, he thought as she continued her rant, how bad would it be to punch an old lady at a funeral?

Eleven.

…Figures.

He kept his fists at his sides, his mouth set in a tight line and held his ground without looking away as he took the abuse.

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway?” the woman went on ignoring her niece’s repeated attempts at pulling her away.

He lifted his chin enough to lock eyes with her. Steeled gold against teary angry green and he opened his mouth to say something he would have instantly regretted but clamped it shut again when he noticed the man standing directly behind her.

His focus shifted to Colonel Mustang and that was enough to draw the angry woman’s attention away from the young alchemist. She spun around and was met with the Flame Alchemist flanked by his lieutenants.

Mustang wore a variation of his charismatic smile (the funeral version, Ed would later describe) as he extended a hand to the woman. “Ma’am, it’s an honour to meet the Great Aunt of such a brave young man,” he said in a smooth baritone as if this woman had not just been verbally abusing his subordinate. Edward was honestly more impressed with the garbage spewing out of the colonel’s mouth.

 “Please accept our deepest condolences for the loss of your nephew. He was an exemplary member of the service and showed great bravery in the face of danger,” he said. It sounded like a practiced response and the distinctly impersonal statement made Edward want to gag.

The woman, it seemed, was decidedly not brave enough to speak her mind to such a high ranking officer. She sputtered a polite response and Mustang ploughed on.

“His loss is a true loss to us all,” the man went on. Edward grimaced behind her back which earned him a sharp reprimand from Hawkeye without her having to open her mouth. They chatted some more until the woman visibly calmed down. Only then did Mustang acknowledge Edward’s presence.

“I see you’ve met the Fullmetal Alchemist,” he said and his tone shifted slightly. The woman was oblivious to it but Edward looked at the colonel cuttingly at the mention of his title. “This young man,” he said holding a gloved hand up as if to present the young alchemist, “is one of the finest State Alchemist East City has to offer Ma’am,” the colonel stated .

She turned her cold green eyes on the boy with disdain and the frown returned. “He’s a tad young isn’t he?” she said, looking down her nose at him. 

Mustang was not fazed as he answered while simultaneously shooting a warning glance to Edward to keep his mouth shut. “He’s older than he looks,” he said smoothly.

“Auntie, we really must be going,” Caroline cut in. “Colonel, thank you,” she added politely and shot an apologetic smile at Edward before practically dragging the angry woman away.

They all watched them go.

Edward silently seethed. When Mustang turned to study his youngest subordinate’s face the low brim of his hat hid his eyes and Edward stood perfectly still.

He was a storm of emotions inside. He was angry, sure. Guilty: absolutely. But she was right in a way. That was the worse part. Her words had cut him like a knife in a way he hadn’t expected. He didn’t feel like he belonged here but he was doing the best he could. He had to be here. The State hadn’t really given him a choice. But he chose to be here too, for Al. He could have chosen the firing squad. But….

A hand landed on his shoulder, gave a quick pat and Mustang said “let’s go,” before the older man walked away. Edward pushed off the car as the others climbed in and he could have sworn he heard Breda mutter what a bitch. Hawkeye watched him in the rear view mirror from the driver’s seat as he slid into the back next to Breda and took his hat off with a huff.

“Well that was unpleasant,” Havoc said quietly from the far right seat. The others all muttered agreement. Mustang turned from his seat in the front. “She’s grieving and looking for someone to blame for her loss, that’s all.” His eyes landed on Edward and the teen frowned at the dismissal before looking away and out the window. “I’m impressed that you were able to keep your head Fullmetal. So you can be tactful when it matters.”

Edward steadfastly ignored him while seething inside.

The rest of the drive was made in silence.

After the one hour mark, Riza looked up from her work with a frown, a glance at the empty desk beside hers and a scan around the room.

“Did Edward ever come back?” she asked the room at large.

The others looked around. They hadn’t seen the little alchemist in a while.

“Went for a bathroom break I think,” Kain offered with a shrug.

Jean suspected that the kid had gone for more than a bathroom break. He’d been moping all day after returning from the funeral. It was a regular work day and after the morning out, they’d all been expected to return to their duties in the office. Most of them hadn’t even bothered changing though they did loosen their stiff jackets.

It was Saturday and he was looking forward to his weekly night out with the guys. Only two more hours left to go. He got up and stretched, patting his pockets to make sure he had his cigarettes and lighter on him.

“I’ll go see where he ran off to,” he offered. Riza caught his eye and nodded. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the kid was smoking and she disapproved but she also firmly believed in minding her own business which was something Jean truly admired about the woman.

He sauntered down the hall, popping into the bathroom quickly for his own benefit but also to check the stalls.

It was empty.

He walked down to the courtyard and inquired about the kid with some of his smoking buddies who were out there but they hadn’t seen him.

With a sigh, Jean started climbing the stairs hoping that he’d find the kid in his last known hangout. If he wasn’t on the roof, then he’d have to raise the alarm with the Colonel and he really didn’t want to do that.

To his immense relief, he spotted the familiar blond leaning against the railing overlooking the main parade grounds.

Edward had removed his own stiff uniform jacket, his hat discarded on the roof next to it, and had let his hair out of the clip. It streamed behind him in the breeze and caught the sun.

The older man plopped down on the cement next to him, back against the railing, and with a sigh took out his cigarettes without so much as a hello.

“You know, you’ve been gone so long Mustang is starting to think that you’re constipated,” he said as he looked down at the tiny figures.

Edward scoffed. “He should worry less about my ass and more his own,” he grumbled.

Jean studied the teen thoughtfully. “You’re not still brooding about that crotchety lady at the funeral are you?” he asked without looking over. He knew the boy was scowling though.

“No,” he answered tersely. Edward was running his fingernails along the railing, picking at the paint chips and flinging them away into the breeze. “I’m mad with myself for being useless.”

Jean did look over then. “You know Andrew’s death was not your fault right?”

“I know that! But I was still useless,” he huffed out in frustration.

Jean stared at the alchemist. “Useless??” he choked disbelievingly, “you literally saved over three dozen lives and you’re calling yourself useless? I’ve heard of high standards kid, but you gotta give yourself a bit more credit than that.”

Edward rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the railing to pace. “That’s just alchemy that doesn’t count,” he grumbled impatiently. After a few more lengths of pacing, he settled on the cement beside the older man and leaned on the lower bar of the railing. “I was useless against that guy,” he said finally, deflating somewhat.

“He was twice your size, can’t say I’m surprised there,” Jean offered with a shrug.

Edward shook his head. “You made it look so easy, taking him down like that. It was badass!”

Jean grinned at the idea that he was considered badass by anyone.

But still, this kid had potential. He thought back to himself at that age and there was no comparison. Alchemy aside, his reaction time was absolutely incredible. Thinking back to the alley, he’d been honestly surprised that Fullmetal had gotten a jump on the guy first.  But it was true that the boy lacked technique. He help up one finger and waited until Edward looked at him.

“First, you learn that in combat and self-defense training,” he said. With the second finger he added “Second, I’ve had years of training and actual combat experience.” As soon as he’d gotten his bearings, he’d been on his feet and his training had taken over. That was something that could only be gained by pounding those moves into your muscle memory. He grinned at the kid. “I know you’re smart and you probably get most things right away but it’s one thing to learn something with your brain and quite another to learn something with your body.”

Edward stared him intently. “Will you teach me?”

“Er…”

“I need to learn this stuff,” he said and it wasn’t desperation in his eyes but determination.

Jean sighed and really hoped he wouldn’t regret this. “I mean, I can teach you weapons self-defense….” He held up a hand at the boy when a grin split his young face. “Hang on. I can’t promise that I’m a good teacher though.”

“That’s alright, I’m a quick study,” he said with a touch of arrogance.

Jean chuckled at that. He had no doubt but still…

He contemplated the young alchemist. “I bet Fry would be a better teacher,” he said more to himself but Edward frowned.

“Who’s Fry?”

“Huh? I was just thinking that he’d be a better teacher when it comes to hand to hand. It’s what he specialised in.” And at Edward’s confused expression he added “he’s an old buddy of mine. Fry, Hey and I went to the academy together.”

“Cool,” Edward said impatiently. “Do you really think he’ll agree to teach me?”

“Well, actually you’re in luck. We get together every Saturday to shoot some pool. You can tag along if you like, ask him yourself,” the older man shrugged and before Edward could respond he said “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

He didn’t wait for the kid to answer before he groaned up to his feet and put out the stub of his cigarette against the metal railing. “Better get back before the Boss starts to think we’re both constipated.”

That, at least, got a laugh out of the kid and Jean considered his impromptu counselling session a success.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Edward had been in a pub exactly once in his entire life which was probably for the best all things considered. Duke’s was the only pub in Resembool and so served as the official celebration hall. When Edward attended at the tender age of five, he was with his mom and brother celebrating a neighbor’s wedding. Well, Mom celebrated the wedding. Ed and Al were busy chasing the other local kids under tables and making forts with people’s coats under the stacked chairs along the outside of the room.

The place Havoc led him into did not match his expectations of a pub. It was a small hole in the wall squashed between a late night convenience store and a shop that sold women’s clothing. The tables were pushed along one wall, a long bar sprawled along the other and a couple of billiards tables at the far end. The radio playing music in the corner was drowned out by the boisterous laughter and chatter of the patrons.

The patrons themselves were mostly young men and all of them wore pieces of the military uniform. Since they were so close the HQ, this shouldn’t have been a surprise. He spotted Lt. Breda at the back, leaning against the wall and chatting with some young men Edward didn’t recognise.

 “Hey Jean, what are you having tonight?” asked the bartender.

Edward did a double take. He couldn’t help but stare at the many many piercings along the big man’s ears, nose and eyebrows. His massive arms were covered in tattoos and he reminded the teen of some of the convicts he’d had the pleasure of serving time with. Just as Havoc asked for whatever’s on tap, the man turned and looked directly down on Edward.

“This your kid?” His tone did not match his appearance. His smile was friendly and is voice rich and warm.

Havoc raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Ed. “Do I look like I’m old enough to have a teenaged son?” he countered . “You know what, don’t answer that,” the soldier amended. “This is Ed, we work together."

The big man raised an incredulous eyebrow at that. Edward raised an eyebrow right back at him. Havoc leaned over the bar and said in a loud whisper “he’s a State Alchemist” and nodded as if that explained everything.

The bartender just shrugged. “Are you sixteen?” he asked.

Edward scowled at the man. “I’m thirteen,” he said.

“No alcohol for you then. You can have a soda,” he said and popped the cap off a bottle of the bubbly drink without waiting for Edward to actually order anything. He nodded at Havoc. “It’s on him,” he said with a cheeky grin just as Havoc chose that moment to take a sip from his beer.

“What?” he sputtered. “He makes way more than me, why am I buying him drinks?”

“Havoc’s buying drinks?” another young man at the bar said, grinning.

Havoc just about tackled the guy. “NO!” he screamed and everyone laughed.

Edward accepted his drink from the barman, shaking his head at the camaraderie, and made his way through the crowded space to lean against the back wall next to Breda.

The bigger man nodded at him as a greeting and Edward nodded back. Lt. Breda was a man of few words, he had learned. He was alright with that. Though he had no qualms about speaking up or speaking his mind, Edward was also not one for social niceties or idle chatter.

They settled back to watch the game. Edward had never played pool before but after watching two rounds, his analytical mind following every move, every score marked on the chalkboard and every cheer and boo from the onlookers, he felt he had a pretty good understanding of the game.

Halfway through the third round, Havoc joined them. “Chief, this here is my buddy Fry,” he said, drawing Edward’s attention away from the coloured balls on the velvet table. When he turned to look he was met with a familiar face.

“Sergeant Yssen!?”

The man looked just as surprised as Havoc. “Elric, it’s been a while,” he said just as Havoc exclaimed “wait, you two know each other?”

At this, Yssen turned to Havoc. “Jean, I teach at the academy,” he said with an are you an idiot look.

“Oh yeah,” the ginger haired man replied thoughtfully, “guess I never made that connection.” He turned to Edward then. “Great, so you already know each other!”

“Why do you call him Fry?” Edward asked bluntly. The man in question had to wait until the cheering from an awesome score died down before he could reply; the pub was really loud.

“My name is Frederick Yssen Jr.,” he said and before Edward could ask why he didn’t just go by Fred he added “my dad was called Fred and it made me feel like an old man. So I prefer Fry. Get it?”

Edward stared at him.

Fry blinked a few times. “Frederick,” he said slowly as if the teen was stupid. “Yssen. Fr-Y… Fry? Get it?”

“I get it,” Edward cut in impatiently. “Havoc said you could teach me how to fight,” he stated eagerly.

Fry shot his friend a cutting look before turning back to Edward. He took a sip of his beer as he considered it. “I’m already teaching you how to fight,” he pointed out. “You have training on Monday morning.”

Edward waved his hand impatiently. “No, not like basic training stuff. Real fighting, like hand to hand. You’re an expert aren’t you?” He had to shout over the noise in the pub.

“Yes,” Fry answered cautiously.

At this point, Breda cut in grabbing Fry by the elbow. “C’mon, we’re up,” he said shortly while pointedly shoving a long stick into the man’s hand. Fry handed his drink to Havoc with an apologetic smile at Edward. “We can talk about this on Monday oaky?” he said.

Edward followed through the crowed with Havoc right behind him and the two of them found a spot against the wall to watch the game.

It was Breda and Fry versus two other young men. They stood by the table rubbing chalk on their cues (which was for friction, Havoc helpfully supplied) and waited for their opponents to be ready.

Now that Edward understood the rules of the game, he found he could follow along pretty well. He watched the angles and made predictions about which moves would be best in his head. He could tell that Breda was a good player; he never missed his shots.

They won their game and joined Edward and Havoc against the wall.

“Good game Hey,” Havoc exclaimed, giving Breda a hard clap on the shoulder. The man grinned back and Edward realised it was probably the first time he’d seen the lieutenant smile.

When it was Havoc’s turn, Breda returned to his spot against the wall to watch.

“Ever play before?” he asked without looking over and it took a second for Edward to realise that Breda was speaking to him.

“Uh, no,” he said lamely. “But it doesn’t look that hard,” he said with a one shouldered shrug.

Breda snorted. “Yeah sure, hitting the ball’s not that hard but it does take technique to get the ball to go exactly where you want.” He nodded at the table where Havoc missed a shot. “He should have gone for the blue one, see? It’s a harder shot but it would have cleared the way for those other two.”

Edward frowned at the table too. “He should have gone for the green one,” he countered with sharp eyes darting around the table. “He could have won the game in three moves,” he declared easily.

Breda eyed him from the side. “You know, it’s harder than it looks. You’re awfully self-assured for someone who’s never played,” he said.

But Edward scoffed. “As long as the table’s level and the balls are round, it’s just a matter of angles, force and spin,” he said with confidence and turned to Breda with a challenge in his eyes. “That’s just math.”

Breda grinned. “Listen here, you cocky little shit,” he said while jabbing a finger into the teen’s metal shoulder, “you want to play a game? I’ll play you and you’ll see it’s not as easy as it looks.”

Edward crossed his arms and if it wasn’t for the grin on the man’s face, he might have thought that the lieutenant was actually angry. Some of the others around them had been listening in on the exchange and the majority of them agreed with Breda on the matter.

“Fine,” he said with a malicious glint to his eyes. “But if I win,” he said and paused thoughtfully, “you have to shave off your eyebrows.” This garnered great jeers of laughter from the others but Breda rose to the challenge.

“Alright,” he said with confidence. “But if I win, you have to let Sweets give you a piercing,” he said and jerked his head toward to bar. Edward looked over sharply at the large man behind the bar who was in the process of filling three glasses at once. His many many piercings glinted in the glow of the overhead lamps and Edward’s stomach did a little flip of horror. He didn’t like the sound of that but he’d brought on this challenge and he wasn’t about to back down now.

“Fine,” he said. Even if he did lose, which he wouldn’t, how bad could a piercing be next to automail surgery? “But only one,” he added quickly. “And only on the ear,” he went on and hoped he didn’t sound too desperate.

 Breda gave him a toothy smile. “Whatever you say Chief,” he replied.

“Right.” Edward accepted the cue from Fry and rubbed the tip with chalk like he’d seen the others do. “Angles, force and spin,” he repeated to himself, nodding with an empowering confidence.

The balls were gathered and racked up in the middle. “Want to break?” Breda asked, sweeping a hand at the neatly placed balls.

Edward nodded and took his position at the end of the table. He played with his left hand using the automail to rest the end of the cue and gave the white ball a sharp quick strike like he’d seen the others do. The coloured balls scattered and he was pleased to see two sink into the pockets. He turned to Breda with a cocky grin. “I choose stripes,” he declared.

They played. Edward’s next turn did not go as well but he would never admit that it was harder than it looked. Now that he had a feel for the cue and balls, however, he concentrated and his shots got better each time.

Breda, of course, was really good at pool. Edward watched in fascination as the man made the white ball dance with a flick of his wrist and sank ball after ball until there were only a few left. He never lost his stoic expression.

It was a close game and Edward managed to get his last stripe in a position to block what would have been Breda’s winning shot. The watchers grinned in excitement and held a collective breath as the lieutenant walked around the table, examining the balls and planning his move.

Edward grinned too. There was no way the man could make that shot, no matter how good he was. He considered this game won.

Breda aimed in the complete opposite direction, took a deep breath and shot the white ball against the side of the table with force. It bounced off at an angle, hit two other sides before coming back to snatch the eight from behind Edward’s ball and sinking it into the pocket.

The room erupted in a chaotic chorus of cheers as Breda stood up straight with a very smug look on his face.

Edward stared at the table in shock.

“Did I just lose?” he asked incredulously.

Havoc placed both hands the teen’s shoulders and directed him towards the bar. “You did good for your first time playing but we probably should have mentioned that Hey is the reigning champion for the last three years in a row,” he said sympathetically.

Edward was sat on a barstool and the big man they called Sweets gave him an over-zealous grin as he dunked a piercing tool into a glass of what looked like pure distilled alcohol.

“Left or right?” he asked gleefully.

Edward swallowed. A bet was a bet and he would die before he went back on his word. He lifted his chin slightly. “Left,” he said decisively.

They cheered as he allowed Sweets to punch a stud into the top of the left ear and he was congratulated and offered drinks (which he refused because beer is almost as gross as milk). It felt like some sort of strange initiation and he’d passed.

Breda grinned at him and bought him another soda. “You’re pretty good Chief,” he complimented. “I’ll play you again any time.” His words were not mocking and Edward recognised the thrill that came with the challenge of a new opponent.

His stinging ear reminded him not to make boastful bets until he was much better at it though. He chuckled. “I might end up looking like Sweets but I will beat you eventually,” he said and Breda laughed.

“When you beat me, I’ll shave off my beard,” he chuckled.

Later, when Edward had been safely delivered back to his dorm room, he examined the metal stud in his ear. He turned head to the side to see it in the mirror.

“I kinda like it, actually,” he said out loud. He almost hoped to hear his little brother answer him but there was only silence. Still he couldn’t help but grin at his reflection.

He realised that tonight had probably been to most fun he’d had in a long time.

Thanks for reading.

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

He didn’t think it was possible to draw more attention to himself than he had the first day he’d walked through the halls of the academy but Edward was quickly proven wrong. The side-eyed looks, hushed whispers and blatant staring made him itch. He was irritable, grumpy and overall rather short with anyone who tried to talk to him.

Only Sergeant Yssen was unfazed by his attitude. Yssen, or Fry as he’d been introduced outside of school took one look at him and sent him running extra laps around the pitch to “clear your head Elric.”

Edward silently cursed the man as he finished the fifth loop and was absolutely miserable by the time he finished the tenth and dragged his feet into the change room but the run had helped clear his mind.

He felt marginally better when he stepped out clean and refreshed for lunch but Fry was waiting for him in the hallway.

“A word, Elric?” the man said.

Edward grumbled but followed. He was led to a small office that was overcrowded with plants and stood in the door perplexed as Fry deftly maneuvered around a large potted lily and sat down in the chair facing the door.

“You….like plants?” the teen asked awkwardly, eyeing the greenery with a look that was somewhere between awe and concern.

Fry looked up from tidying his desk (which was already immaculate compared to Mustang’s). “Hm? Oh yes. People hear I have a bit of a green thumb and dump their dying houseplants on me. I don’t have the heart to let them die so they just sort of…collect,” he answered with a fond look at his indoor oasis.

“Close the door,” he instructed and Edward did before sitting on the only other chair in the tiny office. He ended up sandwiched between a bushy plant with dark green leaves and one that smelled vaguely like the spices imported from Xing.

Fry sat comfortably and studied him for a moment. “Why do you want to learn more advanced fighting techniques,” he asked getting straight to the point.

Edward shrugged. “I want to get my combat license. Seems like reason enough to me,” he answered vaguely.

Fry watched him with his keen blue eyes and it made Ed uncomfortable. “Why do you want to be a combat grade State Alchemist? Seems like your strength is that big brain of yours.”

Edward squirmed, tapping his thumb against his thigh. Fry’s gaze was piercing.

“You could just wait until you’re older and stronger. Why the rush?” he probed.

Edward’s eyes moved away from the sergeant and settled on a spikey plant he was pretty sure was poisonous. “It’s complicated,” he said moodily.

Fry remained silent as he waited for a better answer and Edward couldn’t help the frustrated huff as he went on. “Look, I can’t….It’s complicated and it’s classified,” he said pointedly. Using that line had worked for him many times before and he hoped it would work now. “Are you going to teach me or not?”

Fry considered it for a moment. “I want to know what you plan to do with this skill,” he said evenly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’ve earned yourself quite the badass reputation around here after what you did to Stanley. He’s recovering, by the way,” he added wryly.

Edward shifted uncomfortably on his chair. He scowled because that asshole deserved what he got but he hadn’t meant to almost kill the guy. If it hadn’t been for… Well if he hadn’t stopped when he did he was certain he would have killed the other cadet. “If you’re expecting me to apologise I won’t,” he said with conviction. “I defended myself. People see that I’m a kid and think they can walk all over me,” he defended. Then he looked Fry in the eye. “I need to learn to defend myself against bigger and stronger opponents because that’s what I’m up against in the field. But I want to be in control and not kill anyone if I can help it,” he answered honestly. “If you won’t teach me, I’ll find someone else who will.”

Fry considered the teen for a moment. His expression was calculating and Edward could only assume the man was deciding whether or not he was worth teaching.

“I’ll teach you,” he said finally and Edward let out of small huff of excitement that he quickly reined in. Fry held up a hand. “I’m not going to go easy on you. You may actually hate me by the time we’re done,” he warned.

Edward grinned. “I want you to throw everything you’ve got at me,” he said, his eyes shining with excitement.

Fry crossed his arms. “One hour every night during your free time,” he said with no room for argument. Edward nodded. “Meet me in the rec. center, don’t be late.”

Edward nodded again. “Thank you,” he said and couldn’t help the jittering of his knee.

“Get out of here Fullmetal,” the man replied with a slight grin. “Go have lunch,” he added taking pity on the teen.

Edward did. He managed to get seated with a bowl full of potato salad, the first forkful almost to his mouth when a woman interrupted him.

“Edward Elric?” she asked, standing over him.

“Son of a- what?!”  he barked at her.

She frowned, clearly not impressed by his response. “You’ve been summoned by Colonel Heyes,” she snapped and walked away.

Edward just about threw his fork down in frustration, his temper flaring with a few choice words for the colonel. He glared at his lunch, pushing down the feeling of hunger in his belly knowing he probably would just miss lunch at this point. He had to go. Ignoring a summons from a superior was bad news and yet he still considered it because he knew the man didn’t want to see him for a nice chat.

He didn’t knock. Edward walked in and stood in the middle of the room facing the big desk.

Colonel Heyes looked at him and didn’t bother hiding the disgust on his face. “At attention cadet!” he growled as he took note of Edward’s slack posture.

The teen stood straighter and at attention and only then the man got to his feet, his riding crop already in hand. Edward eyed it warily.

“So,” the man began ominously, “you think you can casually beat someone nearly to death, take a few weeks’ vacation and then go back to things like nothing happened do you?”

Edward made to say something but the man advanced threateningly over him and he closed his mouth.

“If it were up to me, you’d have not only been expelled but arrested for attempted murder ,Elric,” he loomed. His breath smelled like garlic and it took an enormous amount of self-control not to make a face. He was relieved when the man turned away and started pacing slowly as he lectured.

Edward tuned him out. His mind wandered to his thesis and which part of it he was going to tackle next but a few words in particular snapped his focus back on Heyes.

“…don’t know whose cock you had to suck to get such immunity, boy, and frankly I don’t want to know. Personally I find the entire thing revolting. Now in my day-”

Edward’s carefully vague expression morphed into indignity as his brain caught up with the man’s words.

“What?!”

The man rounded on him, the crop whipping out at his temple too fast to see. The sting was easy to ignore.

“You’ll hold your tongue unless spoken to cadet!” His cold eyes scrutinised the alchemist, something nasty forming on his expression. “You think I don’t know you’re doing them favours?” the man spat accusingly.

A fire of outrage burned in Edward’s chest. “I’m not doing favours for anyone,” he said hotly, his fists clenching. “How dare you-”

The crop came flying for his face again but he expected it this time. Edward caught the thing, yanked it away from the man and in one swift motion, he snapped it in half with one automail hand. His blood boiled when he turned his eyes up to the man in front of him and there was something dangerous in his voice when he spoke. “Don’t you fucking dare accuse me doing sexual favours for people you sorry piece of shit.”

Heyes’s eyes bulged with rage, his hand twitching at the loss of his favourite disciplinary tool. He grabbed Edward by his collar and lifted him clean off the ground with his large meaty hands. He seemed too enraged to form words and just stared at the teen and for a brief moment, Edward actually thought the man might throw him out of the window.

“You are very lucky the General favours you boy. Or you’d be rotting in a jail cell by now,” the man growled in his face. Edward couldn’t help the smirk.

“Oh I wouldn’t be in jail,” he said and he almost sounded casual about it. “I’d be dead.”

He considered kicking the colonel in the groin. His feet were in the right place for it too but he quickly dismissed it. Instead, Edward took advantage of his supposed immunity. He placed his hands around the man’s giant wrist and met his eyes. “Put me down,” he said with as much control as he could muster. “I can vaporize your blood in less than a second,” he threatened in almost a whisper. “Don’t test me.”

Heyes threw him down aggressively and Edward didn’t have time to get his feet under him properly. He fell on his ass and banged his elbow painfully against a table leg.

“Get out of my sight, you disgusting filthy creature. But mark my words, boy, if you ever pull something like that again, I’ll beat you to within an inch of your pathetic, vile little life!” he shouted.

Edward picked himself off the floor with as much dignity as he could manage and knew he’d won that gamble. Heyes couldn’t throw him out even if wanted to though he didn’t like the implications that people thought he was exchanging favours with senior officers to get what he wanted. He glared at the colonel. He hated this man so much.

“You can try, asshole,” he spat and was out of that office before Heyes changed his mind about the beating and chose now to be a good time for it.

He heard crashing furniture and shattering glass as he walked away.

Fry was not lying when he said he wouldn’t go easy on him. Edward was just fine with that because he really needed to let out some frustration but damn.

After the tenth time he landed hard on the mat he stayed down breathing hard. Everything hurt. He was pretty sure the older man had literally knocked some screws loose with that last throw.

“Up,” he said mercilessly.

Edward shook his head. He wasn’t giving up, he wasn’t. But he’d landed hard and jarred his shoulder connection. Every nerve from his synthetic fingertips to his lower back was on fire.

Fry loomed over him, for once looking a bit concerned.

“You okay Elric?” he asked gently this time.

“Just give me a minute,” he wheezed out, his eyes clenched against the pain.

The sergeant looked up at the clock on the wall and shook his head. “Actually, let’s call it a night. You should have enough time to get some ice before curfew,” he said as he helped the teen to his feet.

“You put in a good effort but you’re slow,” he added. “You’re thinking too hard about your moves but don’t worry, we’ll beat that out of you until you react without having to think about it,” the man said in what was supposed to be encouraging criticism. Edward grimaced.

“Joy,” he answered flatly.

Fry shrugged. “You asked for this. Now get out of here.”

Edward limped to the kitchen for some ice before heading to his room. With a groan he fell onto his mattress fully clothed and didn’t get up again until the early morning hours. Then he undressed, combed out his hair, brushed his teeth and crawled under the covers to try and catch a few more hours of sleep.

And that was their routine. Edward dutifully followed the regimen set out for the cadets during the day. He studied during every spare moment he could find and for one hour every night during free time, he got his ass kicked by Sergeant Frederick Yssen Jr.

But he did improve.

Every day he got a little bit faster. Fry ran him through the motions of blocking, countering and even falling. He taught him how to turn an opponent’s size against them. Ed learned how to disarm an opponent wielding a knife and repeated the motion again and again until it was ingrained in his muscle memory. He was sore and bruised but he never complained.

Sometimes people came to watch him get his ass kicked.  He honestly couldn’t blame them. It was free time and there was not a lot to do. He’d go watch too.

Colonel Heyes did not bother him again that week and he got the impression that some of the staff were deliberately giving him the cold shoulder but he didn’t care.

Fry was right about his reputation; he’d heard snippets here and there but it wasn’t until he confronted Ritch about it that the other cadet admitted that Edward was considered a variation of unhinged, volatile and totally badass by the general student population.

“Nice stud, by the way. When did you get that?” Ritch asked one evening and pointed at the earring in the top of Ed’s left ear. It was a bit sore at the moment and he imagined his ear was probably a bit swollen because Fry had cuffed him on the side of his head during training.

He rubbed at it with a smirk and shrugged. “Lost a bet,” he said.

Ritch just smiled and shook his head. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?”

Edward rolled his eyes. “So I’ve been told,” he muttered.

That night, Edward dreamed of Al.

He was walking through the tall grass in a field in Resembool and suddenly found himself on the veranda at Valleyview Hospital. The late afternoon sun made the place look warm and surreal but there was something off.

It was too quiet.

The sounds he’d experienced when he visited recently were missing; the birds, the insects, the hushed voices of the other patients, the sounds and even the smells of a fully functioning hospital were just not there. The silence was unnerving.

As he looked up the long planked walk, he spotted a single person in a wheelchair and ran over. The veranda was much longer than it should have been but he got there eventually.

“Al?”

The boy looked over at him with curious golden eyes and Edward’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Al!”

The boy gave him a polite smile.  “Hello,” he said cautiously.

There was something nagging at the back of Edward’s mind but he ignored it because Al was here and he was responding and they needed to get out of here. He pulled on the boy’s hand. “Come on,” he pleaded. He didn’t know why he felt this sense of urgency but it was there, in the way things are in dreams.

But Al shook his head and pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, “but I can’t go with you.”

“What?? Why the hell not!” Edward’s outburst sounded flat in the dead silence of his dream.

There was a great sadness in his expression as Al looked away.

“You’re not the one I’m waiting for,” he said.

The floor boards of the veranda crumbled under Edward’s feet and he fell. With a jolt, he bolted up in his bed still fully dressed.

The light was still on in his room and his eyes landed on the clock. He saw the numbers but he stared at the hands and could not make any sense of the time. And he was suddenly aware that he was not alone in his room.

Panic overtook him and he jumped to his feet, automatically settling into a defensive stance.

When his brain finally caught up to his body, he was able to slow his breathing. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 3:30 in the morning and there was indeed someone in his room.

A boy sat on the edge of his bed.

“AL??”

There was something off about his brother. He seemed almost intangible; fuzzy around the edges like he was more of a projection than actually there. Edward’s analytical mind noticed that the bed didn’t dip under his weight and he didn’t cast any shadows.

Alphonse looked at him with wide eyes. “Brother? Where are we?”

Edward frowned. “This is my room at the military academy,” he said. He was convinced that he was still dreaming. Or hallucinating.

Alphonse frowned as he looked his brother up and down. His eyes focused on the metal hand. “What happened to you?”

“Eh?” Edward glanced at his automail hand and frowned in confusion. “I….. Al what do you remember?”

“I… remember doing the transmutation. I think something went wrong. I’m…” he turned round golden eyes on his brother. “Ed, am I dead?”

“No,” he said with conviction.

Alphonse was starting to panic. “I am aren’t I? I’m dead!”

“NO!” Edward made to place his hands on his brother’s shoulders but there was nothing to grab and his hands went right through.

Alphonse screamed.

Edward screamed.

Alphonse jumped to his feet and backed away. “What is happening?!” There were tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Edward took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay,” he said to himself. “Oaky, let’s just calm down.”

“HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN!”

Edward pinned him with his best imitation of their mother’s cut that out this instant look and Alphonse stopped screaming. “You are not dead,” he said with force. “I don’t know that this is, but I’ve seen you with my own eyes. You are alive and healthy. Just….not all there.”

“What?!”

“I think…” Edward went on ignoring his little brother, “I think your soul got separated from your body. So… your body is alive and healthy but your soul…” he looked up into Alphonse’s panicked eyes. “Well your soul is here.”

“How??”

“I don’t know,” he said cautiously, “But I’m working on it.”

“I don’t like this!” Alphonse whined, running his fingers through his hair and pacing.

Edward watched him. “Al… What do you remember about the transmutation?” he asked. Alphonse shook his head.

“We activated it and the world just disintegrated around me and you... you disappeared and I was in this big white nothing and then I was here. I…”

Edward frowned. “Al,” he said cautiously, “That was two years ago.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! It was moments ago!” His voice rose to a high pitch as he started to panic again. Edward remained calm. He didn’t know what the hell was going on and a part of him was still convinced he was hallucinating but he needed to be rational about this.

“Ed, I-“

A sharp knock on his door interrupted him and Edward never got to hear what Alphonse was going to say. He vanished in front of his eyes.

“AL!” he shouted, lunging for the space his brother had occupied but there was nothing.

Another, more urgent, knock sounded against his door along with a voice calling “This is security, everything alright? Open up, please!”

In a numb daze, Edward obeyed and unlocked his door. Two of the security officers stood in the hallway.

“Is everything alright? Someone reported hearing screaming,” the woman said while the man stepped around the cadet to inspect the room. He found nothing out of order though he might have thought it strange that Edward was still fully dressed in the middle of the night.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, “just a bad dream.”

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile as her partner exited the room with a nod.

“Well, if you need anything, we’re just up the hall,” she said.

Edward nodded and closed the door. He leaned his forehead against the wood and breathed in deeply to slow his racing heart. He waited a solid thirty minutes before deciding that he didn’t want to stay in this room for the rest of the night. It was technically Friday and he was supposed to report to Mustang in a few hours.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself and changed out of his academy uniform. Out in the hallway, he stopped to listen but it was still and quiet.

Edward walked away unnoticed.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Roy was late for work. And despite his reputation for being a lazy slacker, he was also a dedicated soldier and he was never late for work. But for some reason, he had to detour to the Brooks street bridge because the Sixth Ave bridge was closed this morning. This added an extra thirty minutes to his commute not only because of the extra distance but also the extra traffic on Brooks street.

He was more than a little grumpy when he walked in but then his eyes met Riza’s and he knew something had happened.

“Edward’s been arrested,” she said as soon as his office door closed behind them. “I just got off the phone with Markus.”

Roy blinked at her while the words registered and when they did he closed his eyes and let out a long breath through his nose. What the hell had the kid done now?? He wanted to ask her if she was serious but he already knew she was. “Charges?” he asked instead because he needed to remain calm.

Riza hesitated a moment but her eyes never left his face. “Disturbing the peace, destruction of government property, resisting arrest and” she glanced down at the clipboard in her arms, “assaulting an officer.”

Roy let out a string of curses under his breath which might have seemed out of character for him but then Riza knew him better than most. She said nothing and but her mouth was pressed into a thin line which showed that she agreed with his sentiment.

Roy grabbed the coat he’d just hung up and put it on with a sigh. He held the door open for her. “Shall we?”

“Thank you, Sir,”

The little alchemist as they called him at the front desk had been put in a holding cell that saw more drunken citizens than hardened criminals. In fact there were three of them sharing the cell with Edward when Roy walked in. It smelled awful; like stale beer, piss and vomit.

The other men were passed out; two sprawled on the benches, one on the floor and Edward was as far from them as possible on the other side of the small space with his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped around them as best as they could be. He had been stripped of his coat, his weapon, his boots and his belt and someone had had the sense to clap the boy in good old fashioned stocks, the holes in the board just far enough apart that his fingers couldn’t touch. Crude yet effective.

When Edward’s eyes landed on the familiar face, he unfolded and sprang to his feet. “Finally!” he whined, “took you long enough. Get me outta here!”

Roy’s eye was dangerously close to twitching. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he snapped.

The boy’s demeanor changed instantly. He went from annoyed to cautiously guarded in the blink of an eye.

“Resisting arrest?” Roy went on as if he hadn’t noticed. “Assaulting an officer???” He was getting louder with each word took in a long breath through his nose to regain his composure.

Edward watched him with carefully placed indifference.

“Okay first off,” the boy started when it was clear Roy wasn’t going to keep shouting, “she had no grounds to arrest me. I’m being held unjustly! And I didn’t assault anyone!” he added quickly trying and failing to spread his arms out for emphasis. “I bumped her with my elbow.” And at the incredulous look his boss was giving him he added “it was an accident!”

“You gave her a black eye!” Roy retorted. Of course he noticed the dark, bruise-like circles under the young alchemist’s eyes and dried blood around his right nostril. He’d obviously been rewarded for resisting. Roy was too angry to care right now.  

Edward lifted his right shoulder to shove his elbow forward. “I have a metal elbow!” he defended.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to control his temper. It wasn’t working really well. “What the hell were you even doing wandering around in the middle of the night?” he demanded instead. Because really. He’d really like to know.

Edward shrugged with teenage brand indifference. “I went for a walk,” he said flatly. “Is that a crime now? Just a normal guy going out for a walk?”

Roy walked up to the bars so he could look down on his subordinate. Edward for his part stuck his chin up in defiance. “Normal?” he hissed. “You want to talk about normal? Normal people go out for walks during the day,” he said slowly, more for the sake of keeping his temper than anything. It was a losing battle. The more he spoke, the angrier he got.

“Normal people don’t go out and wander the city in the middle of the night!” he growled. “NORMAL people don’t go out to, and I quote,” he said whipping a crumpled paper from his jacket pocket, “dangerously stand on the railing of the sixth avenue bridge screaming profanities at the heavens.”  His dark eyes snapped up to meet the boy’s golden ones, demanding an explanation.

Edward’s mouth clamped shut as the two of them stared at each other.

It was a very silent and tense moment, ruined slightly by the drunken mumbling from one of the men on the other side of the cell.

“Are you on drugs?!” Roy demanded suddenly.

Edward scowled at the older man. “No!” he retorted, offended and annoyed at the same time.

Roy was not convinced, frankly. He grew up in a brothel. He’d seen people high as kites and this was exactly the kind of shit they were capable of. Fullmetal didn’t show any outward signs of being under any influence of drugs or alcohol though. The smell was most definitely wafting from the other end of the cell.

“Then what the hell were you doing?” he snapped. He’d almost hope Fullmetal was under the influence of something. Because otherwise, he might need to hand in form 3891-5B after all.

Edward looked away.

Roy crossed his arms and waited. Two could play at this game.

After another long and uncomfortable moment Edward caved first. “I was angry okay? Just needed to vent a little so sue me!”

The colonel’s eyebrows shot up. “So that’s what this was then?” he snapped. “A fucking tantrum?”

The boy still refused to look at him. Was that shame? “You’re thirteen years old Edward,” Roy growled. “You’re not a goddamn toddler,” he snarled, pointing at the teen for emphasis.

Edward glared at him. “I’m well aware, thanks. I just lost my temper a little. That cop still had no reason to arrest me!”

Roy threw his hands in the air. “A little? You completely demolished the sixth avenue bridge!” He was just about shouting now and he knew this was not becoming of his rank but this kid really knew how to push his buttons.

Edward leaned away from the angry man. “I’ll fix it!” he snapped back with a frown.

“You’re damn right you’ll fix it!”

An officer, likely drawn by the raised voices came in from the front office with a raised eyebrow and Roy forced himself to calm down. He straightened up, yanked on the front of his uniform to settle the fabric in place and turned cold eyes on the Fullmetal Alchemist.

The boy looked like an abused puppy. Not cowering, no he didn’t think Edward Elric knew how to cower. But drawn back, guarded and ready to bite if anyone put their hands too close. What the hell was he supposed to do with him? It would most certainly not look good on him if his subordinate kept getting in trouble like this.

 “You know for a goddamn genius you can pull some pretty dumb shit, kid,” he said unkindly. “I have half a mind to leave you right there.”

Edward watched him carefully. “You wouldn’t,” he challenged.

Roy wanted to slap him. “Watch me,” he growled. Then he turned his back on the other alchemist and walked out. The officer looked between the teen and the colonel and followed the older man out closing the door behind him.

Edward was left staring in disbelief as Mustang walked away. He was….actually going to leave him here?

“Hey! Colonel!” he shouted, his hands gripping the bars. “What the fuck!”

He was met with silence. “YOU BASTARD!” he screamed. It was followed by a string of colorful curses. He kicked at the bars for good measure before he started pacing. Edward shouted and ranted until one of the other men in the cell roused from his drunken sleep to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“Bite me!” Edward shot back and the man grumbled, turned over and went back to sleep but he did stop shouting.

Fuming, the boy sat himself down on the bench again, leaning against the wall. He let his head fall back against the concrete in frustration. “Unbelievable!”

His shoulder hurt from the hours spent hunched on the bench but he was too angry at the moment to care.

Twenty minutes later, the officer came back and unlocked the cell.

“Okay kid, you’re free to go,” he said, unamused, as he held the gate open.

Edward’s head shot up in disbelief. He stared at the man until the officer beckoned him forward impatiently with his hand saying “Come on kid, I don’t have all day.”

He walked out and held his arms out in front of him expectantly while glaring at the man. This was the jerk who’d dug the archaic contraption out of the basement storage after learning that he not only had a State Alchemist in his custody but that Fullmetal could transmute with his hands just like the Crimson Alchemist. He looked apprehensive as he unlocked the padlock on the stocks. Almost like he was unleashing a wild animal against his better judgment. This of course was in addition to the contempt he obviously had towards military dogs.

Out in reception, Edward waited impatiently for someone to fetch his things. His clothes were dumped unceremoniously on an empty chair in the waiting area and he plopped himself down in the next chair over to put his boots on. He pulled out his holster and scowled at the empty pouch.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” he demanded from the man at the desk.

The officer did even look up from his work. “Your superior took it,” he answered lazily. Then he looked up with something like disdain and added “you’ll have to take it up with him.”

Edward grumbled as he buckled his belt and holster into place. He shrugged his coat on and marched out of the station into the bright sunlight.

A sleek black car was idling at the curb. Mustang leaned on it with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. They glared daggers at each other for a second then Mustang pushed off of the car. “Get in,” he said tersely when Edward was near enough and he climbed into the front passenger seat without another word.

“Fucker,” Edward grumbled quietly but he got in and sat grumpily in the back with his arms crossed as Hawkeye drove them towards the canal.

They were stopped before even getting close. The woman who came up to the driver side window was clearly annoyed that all the Road Closed signs were not enough to deter motorists.  “I’m sorry Ma’am, the street is closed,” she started then she noticed the uniforms and straightened up a little. “Is there something I can do for you Lieutenant?”

It was the colonel who leaned over and answered. “Captain Kretz is expecting us, let us through,” he ordered smoothly. The woman nodded and moved the barrier blocking the road, waving the car through.

Greg Kretz had seen a lot of interesting things in his career. He led the department of the military police that dealt with more civil issues like petty crime in the north end of East City. More serious issues were passed up the ladder to other departments. Alchemy related issues were handled directly by the resident State Alchemist.

And if this wasn’t an alchemical issue he didn’t know what the hell it was.  

He wondered though, who dealt with alchemy related crimes when they were committed by another State Alchemist? He stared at the canal while he waited for the Flame Alchemist to show up. He was not necessarily impressed with the monstrosity in the middle of the water but the boyish humour in him (that never really died in most grown men) made a small grin tug at the corner of his mouth.

 The normally quiet street was abuzz with activity. A small crowd consisting of his men, a journalist, an unamused road maintenance crew and one very flustered civil engineer had gathered at the edge of the road where the bridge used to connect.

The bridge was completely gone leaving the road to drop sharply into the canal. In the middle, a giant fist made of stone and mortar (which had previously been in the shape of an elegant arch to carry the road over the water) rose out of the water a good 4 meters with its middle finger plumb against the sky.

He shook his head and turned away just as a car pulled up. He knew Colonel Mustang, the Flame alchemist and he recognised First Lt. Hawkeye but the boy was a stranger to him.

The young colonel herded the teen forward rather aggressively and extended his hand for Greg to shake. “Captain,” he said in his most serious business-like tone. Greg rolled his eyes. He’d known Roy Mustang for years.

He shook his hand anyway but gave him an amused smile. “You can call me Greg, Roy,” he told him before turning his eyes on the young blond kid. “And this, I presume, is the artist?” he said sizing him up. The boy certainly didn’t look too impressive. He was short, grumpy and oozed attitude just like every other trouble making teen he’d met.

The boy gave him a sharp look and crossed his arms as he looked away. Yup, 100 % teenage attitude. But Greg was taken by surprise at the colour of the boy’s irises in the brief second when their eyes had locked.

“Fullmetal is here to fix the damage he did to the bridge,” Roy said pointedly while giving the boy a hard shove toward the canal. The young alchemist grumbled some impressive profanity but he kept going.

Greg let out a sharp whistle to get his men’s attention and motioned for them to get out of the way when they looked. The crowd parted for the small alchemist and if Fullmetal was bothered by being the center of the attention of a large crowd, well he didn’t show it.

He stood at the very edge of the bank and Greg could have sworn he saw a grin flash across the boy’s face. Then he touched his hands together before pressing them into the ground and everything shifted.

The air crackle with discharged energy and Greg felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. In a dazzling display of arcing energy, the stone fist melted in front of his eyes. The onlookers scrambled back further as the energy thrummed through the ground. The statue reformed itself, rising up like a thing alive. It split in two and reached across the water until it became a bridge that effortlessly spanned the canal from one side to the other.

A silence fell over them as the Fullmetal Alchemist straightened up. The civil engineer just about passed out, the poor man.

“Well that’s terrifying,” he stated casually as he and Roy watched the brilliant light die down. “The power of a human weapon in the hands of an immature teenaged boy.”

Roy said nothing but the frown on his face spoke volumes.

“This one is yours?”

“Unfortunately,” Roy replied flatly.

Greg nodded. “You watch him, Roy. Kids at this age are so malleable; he can go down a really great path or a really bad one,” he said.

Roy barked out a laugh but there was no real humour in it. “Trust me, that kid is anything but malleable,” he said but didn’t elaborate.

When Fullmetal walked back toward them, he had a smug smirk on his face which quickly disappeared as soon as he got closer.

“Good as new,” he declared as if he’d just fixed the chain on a bicycle rather than move hundreds of pounds worth of stone into a functional bridge. Good as new except for the grotesque dragon statues on every pillar. Greg was 99.9% sure those hadn’t been there before. Still…

Greg nodded, impressed if a bit wary. “Well, we might have you doing community service since it’s so easy,” he said.

The boy shot a look to his commanding officer, searching for confirmation that this was true but Roy gave nothing away. He always did have an impeccable poker face.

“Get in the car Fullmetal,” the other man said instead. He nodded once to Greg. “Captain, I’m truly sorry for the trouble. It won’t happen again,” he added, the last piece accompanied by a sharp glare in the teen’s direction.

The Lieutenant gave Greg a nod and slid into the driver’s seat as Edward slammed the back passenger door shut. Roy gave a long suffering sigh as soon as the kid was out of earshot.

“I swear he’ll be giving me grey hair before I’m forty,” he grumbled. Greg laughed but it was short lived. He watched the boy sitting in the back of the car thoughtfully.

“You know, if I might make a suggestion?” he started and at the colonel’s nod he went on. “Sometimes troubled youth have a lot of frustration and anger and no outlet. If he had a more positive outlet for all that pent up energy it might help.”

“I have no intention to coddle him. He’s an enlisted soldier and he needs to start acting the part,” he said evenly. “Still,” he added thoughtfully, “it wouldn’t hurt to introduce him to a punching bag.”

 “He may be an enlisted soldier, Roy, but he’s still only thirteen. I once knew another thirteen year old that could have used a punching bag,” he added with a pointed look at the younger man.

Roy crossed his arms with a mock pout. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he added loftily and Greg laughed.

“Take care of yourself, my boy,” he said with a clap on the colonel’s shoulder. With a nod, he went back to work, giving his orders to his team.

Riza watched Edward in the mirror while they waited for Roy. He was strangely subdued as he leaned on the glass that faced away from the two men outside.

She wondered what on earth had happened to make him lash out like that. The statue had been impressive if a bit crude but really?

Roy had given her back Elric’s standard issue firearm as he marched out of the station without his subordinate. For a second, she thought he’d actually intended to leave Edward in jail. But then he’d leaned on the car to wait instead of getting in and she figured the office just needed to go through paperwork first. Or Roy just needed a time out. Or both.

She watched Edward’s face in profile now as he sat slouched in the back seat with his hands shoved in his pockets. He had a strong jawline and a straight nose even if his features were still juvenile. It reminded her of the statues that dotted the desert ruins between Amestris and Xing. Then her eyes landed on the earring at the top of his ear and she stared at it trying to remember if it had always been there.

Riza considered her memory pretty good and she was sure that hadn’t been there last week.

“Edward,” she said suddenly and he turned his head toward her with a slight frown. “When did you get your ears pierced?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

He narrowed his eyes a fraction then shrugged. “Last Saturday,” he answered easily. Then he turned to look directly at the colonel through the window. “Why? Do I need permission to get a piercing too?”

“No,” she said evenly. “But I do hope you at least went to reputable business that takes sanitation seriously.”

Edward stared at her for a long minute before a smirk spread across is too young face. “If by sanitation you mean a glass of vodka and reputable you mean a bar, sure,” he shrugged.

“What?”

Edward snorted. “Relax, they wouldn’t serve me alcohol. And if you want to yell at someone for me being in a bar, yell at Havoc. He’s the one who brought me there.”

Oh she and Jean were going to have words later. Heymans too, if she were to wager a guess.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

It was weeks before Ed saw his brother again. Not for lack of trying of course. Every day, Edward tried to communicate with Al but aside from the small voice only he seemed to hear, his brother did not respond in any satisfactory way. It got to the point where he questioned whether or not he’d dreamed the whole thing.

Was the voice in his head just his own? Did his conscience really sound like Al?

He tried to be scientific about it. And when that gave no results, he tried treating it like some kind of supernatural thing. That got him nowhere too but that may have been because the fortune teller told him to get out after he told her what he really thought about her practice.

Either way, nothing worked.

It was frustrating, to put it lightly.

Hawkeye understood. When she saw he was frustrated and grumpy she took him to the firing range to vent out his frustration. Despite his earlier misgivings, he got used to the smell of gunpowder and the sharp crack of gunfire. His aim got better too. And eventually, she returned his personal weapon to him after many closed door meetings with Mustang.

He occasionally got in trouble but, by his account, it wasn’t his fault.

Like it wasn’t his fault some guy almost ran him over with his car. So maybe he didn’t need to dismantle the engine into a thousand pieces but it sure made him feel better.

And it certainly wasn’t his fault that the interlocking brick on market street had a few new walls sprouting up from it. He caught the thief so what’s the big deal?

(He learned to put everything back before the police arrived.)

He sat through many many sessions on civil and military laws with Warrant Officer Falman until he wanted to rip his eyeballs out but he did get something out of it at least. He learned that it was important to understand the laws to know how to bend them safely. He wasn’t a genius for nothing.

He was allowed to sit in on staff briefings for assignments and the colonel even let him sit in on some of his less important meetings solely to observe (I swear to God Fullmetal if a single word comes out your mouth during this meeting, you’ll be scrubbing the base’s toilets with a toothbrush). It was, according to the colonel, to get him used to the political side of how things were done in the military. This also made him want to rip his eyeballs out because Edward was a doer not a planner. Sitting around talking about doing a thing without actually doing it made him irritable and grumpy.

He was occasionally consulted on more complex alchemy issues but only as a last resort. He just didn’t understand what they were not understanding about the equation he’d just spent the last forty five minutes explaining. He may have lost his temper that one time and if one more person asked him to explain complex alchemy in layman’s terms he was going to rip their eyeballs out. (It’s not HIS fault the others are too dumb to follow along with Klumpton’s theory of thermodynamic transfer in impermanent objects).

Edward was well known around the base even if it seemed that not many people actually knew his name judging by the range of ways he was referred to.

Kid.

Punk.

Sweetheart. (If she wasn’t so grandmotherly, he would have decked her.)

Dog.

Mustang’s Puppy (Was it really his fault the man had a shattered kneecap after that?)

Mustang warned him not assault anyone. You’re going to pick a fight with someone you can’t win one day, Fullmetal the man had warned him. But dammit, people kept getting under his skin. Edward learned something about himself in those weeks. He really didn’t like people.

Well, he liked Hawkeye. And Havoc. And Breda and the others were okay too, he conceited. But still, when someone had the gall to look down on him (both literally and figuratively) he saw red.

So, after getting into a scuffle in the mess (someone may have called him the little alchemist in passing) Mustang took up Captain Kretz’s advice and introduced Edward to a punching bag.

Or rather he had Havoc show the alchemist to the gym.

He spent a lot of time at the gym after that. Punching something had always been cathartic but it was a good workout too. He got to know the regulars pretty well and he would even go so far as to say he liked them. Sometimes, he even held the bag for them and other times, they held the bag for him. They all agreed that Fullmetal had one hell of right hook.

But it wasn’t until he met Katya that he got into some really interesting stuff.

Katya was a lieutenant by rank and spent all of her free time in the gym but she wasn’t lifting weights. She had been a gymnast before she joined the armed forces. She was a compact, wiry force of nature and she was only taller than Edward by about an inch.

When he asked the guys about her, they just grinned and waved him off. She’s special forces they’d said.

Edward once watched her hold a handstand on a balance bar for a solid five minutes while he held the punching bag for one of the other soldiers. You don’t want to mess with her they said, she trained at Briggs.

He watched her as she practiced cartwheels and backflips on the mats on the far side of the room. She’ll slit your throat before you know she’s in the same room, one woman said with apprehension.

He was so impressed by the fluidity and grace of her movements that he decided then and there that he wanted to learn how to move like that.

She had an intensity about her that would make most people think twice before approaching but then, as he’d been told, so did he.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, boy, but you cannot do this with automail,” she told him with frank honesty as she eyed his metal shoulder.

Edward bristled at that but he held his ground the same way he did every time someone told him he couldn’t do a thing.

He proved her wrong.

Though Katya never actually agreed to teach him, he practiced alongside her. She was pretty annoyed at first. She would ruthlessly point out his mistakes but then tell him how to improve. They were cutting comments made in passing at first. But Edward kept coming back. He watched her and he learned and the more he spent time in the gym, the more she instructed him.

His training with Fry was going well too. He managed to stay on his feet more often than not and he got faster and more sure of his movements.

Then one day he did a backflip to avoid one of the man’s grabs and Fry’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“The hell was that?” the sergeant cried.

Edward shrugged. “Been practicing some skills,” he said vaguely as he settled into a practiced defensive stance.

“Clearly,” the man muttered with a grin.

Edward still ended up flattened against the mat but he was getting better.

Colonel Heyes left him alone for the most part. He only got in trouble twice. Once for forgetting to pin his hair up properly and again for using alchemy to fix the radio he accidentally crushed in his automail hand. He’d been sent to cut the grass with scissors for six straight hours and vowed that he would pay the man back one day.

The gym was mostly empty on a Friday afternoon and for that, Kain was grateful. He’d been here a few times but he preferred jogging on the sidewalk over lifting weights. If he was honest with himself, the ripped soldiers who frequented the gym on base intimidated him.

Kain Fuery was not a big guy. He was fit, sure, but muscles? Forget it. He could hold his own in a fight if it came to it because he’d been trained in self-defense but guys like Havoc or Mustang could probably beat the shit out him if they wanted to. Hell, Edward could beat the shit out of him if he wanted to.

He walked among the weight stations and benches and frowned when he didn’t see the blond head he’d been sent to find.  Finally, he approached a woman (slightly less intimidating but not by much).

 “Excuse me, have you seen Fullmetal? Young guy, blond about yeh high?” he asked, holding his hand level with his shoulder.

The woman jerked her head to the far side of the room without wasting breath to answer.

When he looked over he had to stare for a second to register what he was seeing.

There was his alchemist.

Upside down in a handstand.

On a bar nine feet off the ground.

“Holy shit,” he breathed to himself as he cautiously approached. Up close, he could to tell how hard the teen was working to keep his balance by the utter concentration on his face and the slight trembling in his body. He was down to his undershirt  and Kain couldn’t believe the muscles on this kid.

He wasn’t sure if Edward had seen him and he didn’t want to startle him and make him fall which left him to hover awkwardly near the mat. He waited and eventually, Edward changed his grip and let his legs fall down bringing his body into a full swing around the bar once then again before letting go.

He landed on his feet and it was a pretty impressive move but his left leg gave out after a second and he tilted sideways onto the mat, breathing hard. Then he flopped over onto his back, long blond bangs plastered to his sweaty forehead and rolled his head towards the other man.

“Hey,” he said curiously, “what’s up?” It was so casual, like he wasn’t lying flat on his back on the floor. Kain cleared his throat, arms crossed over his chest. Yeah, Edward could definitely beat the shit out him.

“Colonel called a meeting, briefing starts in, uh,” he checked his watch quickly, “fifteen minutes.”

Edward looked up at him in confusion. “So?”

“Well, I’m telling you because you’re expected to be there, “ the man went on cautiously.

Edward frowned as he sat up on the mat. He wiped the hair out of his eyes and Kain noticed that he was only wearing one fingerless glove on the metal hand. “I’ve never been summoned to a team briefing before, what the hell does he want with me now?”

The teen peeled himself off the mat and limped over to the bench set against the wall. He buried his face in a towel, giving it a good scrub. His bangs were disheveled when he was done and he smoothed out his hair with a quick comb through of his fingers.

“He sent me to find you, so that means he wants you there this time,” Kain said evenly with a shrug.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Fuck, I won’t have time to shower,” he mumbled. He spared the man a quick glance while he gathered his things. “Tell him I’m coming, just gonna change real quick.”

“Don’t be late!” Kain called as the teen walked away. He’d meant to walk back with him but he was left standing awkwardly among the mats and the small muscular woman on the balance bar was giving him an evil look so he made his way out.

Yeah, he avoided the gym if he could.                           

Edward was not late, but only just. He’d had time to stick his head under the faucet and change his shirt but that was it. He honestly didn’t know why he cared so much. Mostly he was just curious. What the hell did Mustang need him for?

When he walked into the office, most of the regular staff was gone and only the core members, as he liked to call them, remained.

Mustang, Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Falman.

He almost felt a tinge of pride to have been included in whatever this was. Almost. Mostly he was tired, sore and desperately needed a shower.

And water.

He ignored the colonel’s raised eyebrow and went to the coffee station to pour himself a glass of water that he downed in one go then poured another.

Edward found a desk to sit on, back to the wall thank you very much, and gave the colonel his attention. He kept his distance from the others knowing that he probably stank like no tomorrow after that workout, and drank his second glass of water more slowly.

 “Now that everyone is here,” Mustang said with a pointed look at the other alchemist, “we can start. Falman, if you would?”

Before the officer could open his mouth, report in hand, Edward cut in with “why am I here, exactly?”

Mustang shot him an annoyed look. “Because this case deals with alchemy and you are employed as an alchemist,” he said flatly.

“Yeah but,” he accepted the report Breda handed him along with a slice of pizza which he shoved in his mouth with no shame. “Tha’s your jop,” he said around the mouthful.

“I’m an expert in flame alchemy and if you’d shut up for two seconds and let this man do his job presenting the case, you’d know that this deals with biological alchemy. Which is your expertise,” Mustang shot back.

Edward spared a quick, alarmed glance around the room because he was pretty sure that was supposed to be a secret but since no one seemed shocked by the news he guessed they already knew. He scowled at the colonel and waved his hand motioning for Falman to start with a promise that he wouldn’t interrupt again.

He flipped through the report while the man talked, successfully dividing his attention despite the repeated looks he was getting from Hawkeye. She clearly didn’t know he could read and pay attention to the presentation simultaneously.

The pictures Fuery projected on the screen, however, did catch his full attention.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed. It was…. Gruesome.

It was…..familiar.

He regretted that second slice of pizza right now but he swallowed down the sick feeling as he approached the screen to examine the smaller details. His body cast a shadow over the grizzly picture. This was what was left of Anna Polson; a pile of misshapen bones, blood and gore.

A grotesque body distorted into inhumanly possible angles, the rasping breath of lungs that didn’t work properly, bulging eyes that pleaded for mercy.

Edward shook himself, his mouth pressing shut tightly as he breathed through his nose.

“We believed Miss Polson was not the man’s first victim, and…”

The slide moved on to a close-up of some bones lying on the ground in a ditch. The ribcage was fused together unnaturally and there were clear signs of transmutation all over the skull.

“Where is this?” he asked, cutting off Falman’s monologue.

He looked up from his papers and shared a look with Mustang. “On the outskirts of Central,” he said.

Mustang was giving Edward an unreadable look, the light of the projector casting harsh shadows on his face. “What do you think, Fullmetal?”

Edward swallowed hard and looked the man in the eye. “I think we’re dealing with alchemy,” he said with confidence, “but then you knew that already didn’t you? That’s why you called me in on this case, isn’t it?”

“Like I said,” he replied evenly, “this is your area of expertise.”

“Fucker,” Edward grumbled under his breath as he returned his attention to the screen.

The others shared a look and Fuery cleared his throat as he moved onto the next slide.

Slide after slide of gruesome evidence photos as Falman read out the facts. Edward retreated to his spot against the wall and examined the slides. Whoever took the photos was clearly not an alchemist. The photos focused on the bodies and their positions when they should have been pointed at the tells alchemy always left behind. None of the photos showed the array used on these bodies unless…

“Why aren’t there any photographs of the arrays?” he said suddenly.

Falman looked up from his notes and he must have the patience of a saint because he didn’t even look annoyed at the constant interruptions.

“There wasn’t any evidence that alchemy was used,” he stated plainly.

“Well, there’s gotta be something. This is clearly alchemy!” Edward shot back impatiently. “There’s always an array.”

“Is there?” came Mustang’s quiet question. Their eyes locked and Edward had a moment of clarity as the implications of that truly sank in.

“Oh,” he said looking at the projected image with new eyes. “Oh. Well shit.”

“Fullmetal, you specifically were requested for this case,” Mustang said gravely. “And I don’t think it’s solely because of your in-depth knowledge of biological alchemy. How did you learn to transmute without an array?”

Edward’s frown deepened and he avoided answering by taking a long drink from his water. He couldn’t explain it. After seeing the Truth, he just knew. How do you explain to someone who was blind since birth what colour was? He couldn’t. He just knew.

He was aware of every person’s gaze on him but he fidgeted. He couldn’t, wouldn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, that’s classif-”

His eyes snapped to the man suddenly standing in the middle of the room. The young man that hadn’t been there a second ago.

The team’s reaction was delayed by half a second but there were guns drawn almost simultaneously with a chorus of surprised shouts.

“What the-??”

“Who the hell are-“

Glass shattered and he vaguely felt a sharp pain in his hand but his eyes were glued to the familiar yet strange face. The blond hair.

The young man looked around, a brief look of confusion flashed on his face before it morphed into a scowl. “God dammit motherfucker! This isn’t…Son of a bitch!” he growled in frustration.

The colonel was on his feet, fingers touching dangerously. “Young man, this is a private meeting!” he barked.

The young man turned to Mustang with a hand raised apologetically in front of him. “I’m sorry Colonel, I didn’t intend to come here,” he was saying in a voice that was a pitch lower than Edward remembered but still the same voice. Still the same face even if the jaw was a bit more square. Still the same golden eyes that he knew.

“…Al!” he breathed.

And the young man turned to him, his expression softening with fondness.

“I’m sorry brother, you’re not… I was hoping to talk to…someone else,” he said gently.

“What the hell is happening,” he squeaked weakly (in a voice that he would vehemently deny later).

A pained expression crossed Al’s too old face. “I’m sorry Ed, I really wish I could stay and talk but I shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous for me to say too much. Time is… tricky like that,” he added before his eyes widened in alarm. “I can’t… please don’t ask me any questions.”

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Mustang cut in loudly, a dangerous edge to his voice that made the others exchange looks.

“Nothing to worry about Colonel, I’m just going to be on my way,” Alphonse said turning to the man with an edge of steel to his tone that Edward had never heard before.

Al closed his eyes and his features settled into deep concentration. Then he winked out of existence and it was a solid minute of stunned silence before someone spoke.

“You…you all saw that, right?” Edward said, trying to control the tremor in his voice as he pointed to the spot his brother had occupied. “I’m not crazy,” he went on with a pointed look at the colonel. “You all saw that!” There was a distinct hysterical note to his voice (which he would also deny).

The others exchanged perplexed looks but nodded.

Mustang was very much not impressed and he rounded on the other alchemist. “Fullmetal, what the hell just happened!” he barked. “How often has this been happening?”

Edward scowled at him. As if any of this was his doing. “I haven’t seen him in weeks,” he snapped back. Not since that night in the dorms. But Al had been a boy then. Not this obviously older version of himself.

Time is tricky like that.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth but Havoc pounced on him.

“Shit Chief, your hand!” he said, reaching for Edward’s left hand. Edward stared in disbelief at his hand. There was a lot more red than there should be. Blood dripped from his fingertips and he watched it as if belonged to someone else.

He stared down at it, at the blood seeping freely from deep cuts in his palm and fingers, at the shards of glass embedded in his skin and what was left of his glass of water on the carpet.

Edward was not squeamish around blood. But this, for some reason, made the blood drain from his face and he felt a numbness spread from his chest into his arms until someone pushed him into a chair.

“Easy there, little guy,” Breda was saying.

“Fuery, grab the first aid kit, will ya?” Havoc shouted over his shoulder as he gingerly placed Edward’s arm on a desk, shoving papers out of the way with little care. Someone had produced tissues to mop up the blood.

Havoc looked him in the eye. “You still with me?” he asked and Edward nodded but he felt numb. And it wasn’t just the blood.

Time is tricky like that.

Was his brother….time travelling???

Havoc had the kit open on the desk and someone had brought over a desk lamp for better lighting as the lieutenant removed shards of glass from his hand with a frown of concentration.

“Some of these are pretty deep, probably going to need stitches,” he was saying but Edward wasn’t listening.

Al’s body was still at the hospital so he wasn’t physically going anywhere. But his soul was detached. What if his soul was just drifting around?

They wrapped his hand as best as they could and he was herded out of the office. Havoc marched him down to the infirmary with a steady hand on his shoulder but Edward was far away in his own head and didn’t notice.

Al’s soul was attached to him, wasn’t it? That’s what he’d theorised.

The infirmary was bright. Everything was white, white white. He was ushered into a chair as the doctor examined the wounds on his hand and asked questions which Havoc answered after it was clear that Edward wouldn’t.

He saw it in his nightmares. The white void that was nothing and everything. It existed outside of reality didn’t it? And he suddenly had his answer.

The Gate existed outside of reality

The Gate existed outside of time.

“His soul is trapped inside the Gate,” he said and the doctor gave him an odd look, needle poised above his palm, raised an eyebrow and turned to Havoc with an unspoken question.

“He’s an alchemist,” Havoc responded dutifully. “I’ve stopped asking questions.”

Well shit, now what?

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

Edward had strange fitful dreams. He couldn’t remember what they were about only that he woke up sweating profusely, confused and slightly nauseous. When he looked at his watch, he realised he’d only been in bed for a couple of hours.

He threw the covers off his body and lay there staring at the ceiling while he waited for his heart to stop hammering. He became aware that his shoulders were tense, making his breathing shallow. It took a conscious effort to relax the muscles and take several deep breaths.

He went to rub a hand over his face and remembered that it was cut to shreds and bandaged heavily. He stared at the white mitt of bandages on his hand and frowned.

“Stupid,” he hissed to himself.

Because really, what kind of a dumbass forgets he’s holding a glass?

It was an accident.

“It was your fault!” he snapped into the quiet room.

The silence stretched on and on. Edward stared up at the ceiling in a daze, his thoughts tumbling into one another in a semi-lucid state. He felt light-headed and numb. Tired but restless.

He didn’t know if he fell asleep or not. The next time he blinked, over an hour had passed but it wasn’t quite morning yet.

“Al?” he called.

He felt strange. Like he was disconnected from his body. He desperately needed to get up and pee but he didn’t trust his legs to carry him to the bathroom. He’d only ever felt like this before at the hospital in Central after his automail surgeries.

“It’s the drugs they gave me at the clinic,” he said. He didn’t know why he was talking only that it helped him sort out his thoughts. His brain felt sluggish.

“The hell are you playing at, anyway. Showin’ up outta the blue like that?” he hissed at the ceiling. He didn’t expect an answer. He closed his eyes but that only resulted in bursts of kaleidoscopic colours behind his eyelids so he opened them again. It was better to stare at the ceiling.

A dim line of light came through the slit in his curtains from the streetlamps outside and stretched across the ceiling. He traced it with his eyes. 

“Why won’t you talk to me when I want you to?” he whispered, clutching a fistful of his sheets in his metal hand.

They’d kept him at the clinic for hours for observation, Colonel’s orders. He’d refused of course until the soldier threatened to have him cuffed to the bed.

The doctor told him he’d had some sort of panic attack and gave him something to calm him down. But that wasn’t right. Edward Elric did not have panic attacks.

He didn’t feel panicked, at any rate.

“This is your fault,” he whispered, breathing faster. Why was his heart beating so fast?

“This is your fault!” he said, louder but not quite shouting.

He felt a wave of nausea roll over him and he dragged himself out of his bed. The mattress groaned slightly when he lifted his weight off the bed.

He didn’t make it to bathroom. The desk was closer so he pitched sideways and grabbed the garbage can, leaning over it. He felt his body convulse and the hot burn of bile as it surged up his esophagus.

Edward clutched the metal can hard enough to leave dents under his metal fingers as his stomach heaved again and again until there was nothing left. He felt weak and exhausted as he trembled.

He sucked in a few deep breaths, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and slumped against the desk, closing his eyes against the tremors.

As some point, he slid down to the floor, curled up around the metal can and fell asleep.

Fullmetal was late. So late that Roy actually thought the kid might miss the train.

But he didn’t. Five minutes before the train was set to depart and after the station master had announced a final boarding call to passengers, Roy heard the clumping of boots on the rail car’s carpeted hall. One boot distinctively heavier than the other with a slight halting step that gave away a very minor and familiar limp. A quick glance at Riza confirmed that she was thinking the same thing.

Then the sliding door flew open and there was his little alchemist looking grumpy and disheveled. The man raised an eyebrow at Fullmetal’s appearance. He looked pale and haggard. His hair was loose and looked like it hadn’t been brushed (or washed) with more than a few flyaway strands sticking up. His belt was undone and his laces trailed sadly behind hit feet.

The boy noticed his staring and glared at him.

Roy smirked.

“Why do you look like the morning after a rave?” he asked smoothly, leaning back into the cushioned seat.

Edward gave him an unimpressed flat look. The look was accentuated by the dark circles under his eyes.

“Could be worse,” he snarked back after a beat of quiet glaring, “I could look like you.” The barb lacked some of its usual venom and Roy was slightly disappointed. Edward shuffled into the compartment, dropped his suitcase on the empty seat across from them without so much as an invitation and plopped down. With a sigh, the boy slouched down into the cushions as the train started moving.

Roy frowned at the defeated look and felt a very brief pang of concern. He knew the other alchemist struggled with insomnia and after what happened yesterday he couldn’t say he was surprised. “Seriously, though, rough night?”

Edward ignored him, swiping a loose strand of hair out of his face in irritation.

Roy looked over the kid’s appearance again, taking in the rumpled clothes, the unwashed hair hanging limply and the exhausted dullness in his eyes.

Edward had brought one leg up, bent at the knee and foot resting on the edge of the bench. Roy watched the laces dangle loosely as they swayed with the motion of the train while East City’s dense buildings became more spaced out and smaller.

 “That’s a good way to end up flat on your face,” he remarked, nodding to the kid’s boots. “Honestly, you should take more pride in the way you present yourself,” he admonished lightly. “You are an Alchemist of the State and all.”

Edward scoffed and turned narrowed eyes on Roy. “I don’t give a fuck what people think of me,” he said with an open honesty that Roy could appreciate.

“Besides, I couldn’t exactly use my hands,” he snapped and held up both hands with the backs facing the colonel. His left hand was thoroughly bandaged with only the tips of his fingers peeking out the top and his right… oh yeah.

Riza gave him a sideways look and he felt like an arse suddenly. “Right,” he said by way of an apology.

“Edward,” Riza cut in before he could put any more of his foot in his mouth, “would you like for me to tie your hair back?” she asked.

Edward frowned, turning his glare on her. “I don’t need to be… to be mothered,” he bit back with a slight affronted hesitation and Roy guessed this was a bit of a sore spot. Still, she’d been nothing but kind and he didn’t think her offer deserved such a derisive response. He frowned but held his tongue because he knew Riza Hawkeye.

Riza Hawkeye didn’t need anyone to defend her.

She levelled Fullmetal with such a flat look of unimpressed and Roy could have sworn he felt the temperature in the compartment drop.

“Do I look like the mothering type?” she deadpanned with a deadly edge to her tone. Yeah, that was a sore spot for Riza too.

Edward had the decency to look nervous. His eyes darted between Riza and Roy and he looked like he wanted to sink further into the cushions. “No,” he said with a huff. Then he looked her over again and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “More like a big sister,” he said. Roy guessed that was his version of an olive branch.

“A really, really scary big sister,” the boy added and at that Riza did smile.

“With guns,” Roy added under his breath.

The tension eased a little at that and Riza offered again with a small gesture of her hand and without saying a word. Edward seemed unsure and shot a quick and uncomfortable glance at Roy.

And then Riza was giving him a sideways look. The two of them had always been able to communicate without words and right now she was telling him to leave. But Roy just stared back baffled because he didn’t understand why she wanted him to leave. Maybe he’d misread her expression?

Riza stomped on his foot painfully and he startled and shot her a bewildered and somewhat betrayed look but her message was loud and clear.

Get. Out.

Roy got to his feet, schooling his features as Edward shot him a confused look and he grit his teeth as he passed saying “I have to go for a walk,” while pointedly not looking at his lieutenant. He supposed this was just because the kid was too embarrassed to have Riza do his hair in the small compartment while Roy watched but honestly. It was just hair, he didn’t see what the big deal was. If the kid was this bashful about his hair, he wouldn’t survive in the men’s shared showers.

“You ladies have fun,” he added right before sliding the compartment door closed. Out in the narrow corridor he sighed in annoyance and chose a direction at random.

Edward watched Mustang leave, confused. The train had literally just pulled out of the station, surely he didn’t need to stretch his legs yet.

But then his eyes landed on Hawkeye and she raised an eyebrow. “Get your brush,” she ordered and made space at her feet, pointing to the ground. Her tone left no room to argue.

Edward did as he was told. He grumbled about it but then his hair kept falling into his face and he really did want to tie it back. So he opened his suitcase, gingerly rummaged through the contents until he came away with a brush trailing long blond hairs and handed it to the woman before folding down cross-legged on the ground in front of her.

Riza gave the brush an appalled look at its condition and pulled the loose hairs off the bristles before she started brushing.

Riza Hawkeye was most definitely not motherly. She yanked and pulled at the knots in his hair making him wince and flinch. She brushed his ears on more than one occasion and caught his earring painfully. And when he hissed, she muttered things like Oh stop it, it’s not that bad or Really, if you brushed it more often you wouldn’t have so many knots.

Her hands were most definitely not the gentle hands of Trisha Elric. But then his hair hadn’t been nearly as long when his mother was alive so who knows?

When she was done torturing brushing, she tossed the brush over to the unused bench and braided his hair. That involved some pulling as well and Edward could tell by the pulling on his scalp that the braid was much neater and tighter than what he was used to but he didn’t dare complain. She tied it off with the leather string he handed over his shoulder and tossed it forward so his braid landed gently on his left shoulder.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbled getting up. He could feel his pulse on in head, was that normal?

But Hawkeye wasn’t done. She hooked her foot under his right leg just as he got up, making him fall back on the seat across from her as she held up his loosely booted foot.

“You’re going to trip like this,” she said as she started tightening the laces. He watched her work silently and when she shoved his automail foot off her lap and motioned for him to lift his right leg, he obliged.

Even though he’d watched her yank on the laces of his left boot, he hadn’t realised how tightly she was lacing because there was no feeling in the left foot. The right foot had plenty of feeling.

“Ow,” he complained, “do you have to cut off the blood flow?”

She glanced up at him briefly. He was expecting her to tell him to suck it up but her expression softened a little. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m not used to doing someone else’s laces.” She eased up a little and though it was still a bit uncomfortably tight for his liking, he didn’t feel like his foot would fall off.

When she was done, she shoved his right foot off her lap and pointed to his belt. Heat rose sharply to Edward’s ears at the thought of anyone’s hands that close to his crotch but then she said, “You’re on your own for the belt,” and he relaxed a bit, glad they were on the same page as far as personal space was concerned.

He stowed his brush back and sat down, running the tip of his fingers over the tight braid. It felt different and not just because the braiding started much higher up on his head than what he was used to.

“It’s a four strand braid,” Hawkeye said, watching him.

“Oh, uh. Thanks, I guess,”

“You’re welcome,” and he saw the glint of amusement in her eyes and Edward knew that she had enjoyed herself immensely. The braid itself was probably revenge for his complaining while she brushed.

Yes, definitely more like a big sister than a mother.

Hawkeye watched him carefully, concern bleeding into her smug expression. “Are you okay?” she asked gently, quietly even though they were alone.

Edward sighed heavily and turned away from her to watch the trees and fields rush passed the window. He flexed his hand a few times gently and looked back to find her sharp eyes on him as if she was trying to read his mind.

“Yeah, it’s actually not as bad as it looks.” He held up his bandaged hand and pointed to the valley between his small finger and its neighbor. “The deepest cut is right here. Right down to the bone, apparently.” He grimaced at the thought. “But the doctor said I was lucky I didn’t sever a tendon. Just flesh.” He shrugged and shook his head. “That’s on me for being a dumbass anyway, forgetting I was holding a fucking glass.”

Hawkeye frowned but she didn’t say anything about his vulgar language. He suddenly realised she hadn’t meant his hand.

He was spared having to answer as the colonel came back holding two cups of coffee. He glanced quickly at Edward as if confirming something to himself, eyeing his tightly braided hair and handed Hawkeye a cup.

Then, Mustang settled himself in his seat by the window, directly across from Edward and set his cup down on the small platform that barely passed for a table between them. He dug around in his briefcase, pulled out an envelope and dropped it on the small table.

Edward stared at it then up at Mustang.

“What’s this?” He reached for the papers even as he asked.

Mustang nodded, indicating that it was okay for him to take them. “Some information you should review before we reach Central, seeing as you missed the end of the briefing,” he said. Edward was aware that the team had continued without him.

Havoc had stayed with him until the doctor was done sewing his hand back together. Then, for some unfathomable reason, they admitted him. Havoc apologised, saying it was for his own good and informed him that they were to board the 8:00 AM train for Central. Then he handed him off to a pair of dour looking soldiers. Edward raged and whined that it was just a damn cut but one of the straight faced soldier slapped a bracelet on his wrist with his name and a number and escorted him to a semi private room in the medical ward.

“Thanks, by the way,” he said without a hint of gratitude, “for having me admitted to the hospital. You know they threatened to have me sedated?”

“Oh I heard all about it,” Mustang said with a slight frown. “Would have done you some good, I think, to get some proper rest,” he added with that same frown. Then the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. “Really, is it so hard to just do as you’re told?”

“I don’t need to be-“

“We were worried about you,” he cut in suddenly and Edward’s mouth clamped shut.

The teen frowned at Mustang, then at Hawkeye, then he looked away staring unseeing out the window and the strange silence stretched on.

“So….what, am I on some sort of suicide watch now or something?” he asked quietly, glancing to the older man, who was still watching him.

He didn’t miss the tightening of the colonel’s jaw at the mention of suicide and he scowled.

“No,” the man said tightly, “it’s just…well considering the unusual circumstances, I just wanted to keep an eye you.” Mustang’s expression was sharp but unreadable. “You have a track record for doing impulsive things,” he added cautiously.

Edward scoffed but didn’t deny it. “I don’t need to be watched,” he said petulantly instead, crossing his arms. He winced as his hand jostled against his chest.

The colonel looked like he wanted to argue but kept his thoughts to himself.

“Since we’re on the subject,” he said instead, “what happened yesterday, with your…brother.” Edward didn’t miss the hesitation.

He focused his attention to the scenery flying by the window. Yeah, seeing Al had been as much of a shock as the first time his brother had appeared in his room. He doubted the others had spent the night having feverish dreams and puking their guts out though.

“I don’t know,” he said non-committedly. He wasn’t lying but he had theories.

“You said he was trapped inside the gate, what does that mean?” Mustang prodded relentlessly. Edward gave him a sharp look at that because the man hadn’t been there when he’d said that. But he shouldn’t be surprised that Havoc would report back to the colonel.

He took a deep breath. “It’s just a theory,” he said cautiously with a quick glance at Hawkeye. Who was he kidding? These two were like two peas in a pod. He was certain that Mustang had shared all the information with his First Lieutenant already. Of course she knew his darkest secrets.

Mustang nodded once. “You’ve mentioned the ‘Gate’ before,” he said, keeping his voice low. They had their own private compartment but old habits die hard. Edward appreciated it.

The younger alchemist nodded, biting his lower lip. He tapped his metal thumb restlessly against the small table. “It’s where all things are balanced,” he said distracted. His mind was running at full speed, ideas and theories and calculations jumbling over one another in a rush that made him feel a little like he was drowning until-

“You’re going to have to explain what that means,” Mustang prompted, getting his attention with a light tap on his wrist, careful to avoid the injured hand. Edward was not even aware that he’d spaced out.

With a frown, he flipped the papers over to the blank backside and searched his right pocket until he came away with a well-used pencil.

“It’s like this, yeah?” he drew a small circle in the center of the paper and filled it in. “This is us. Our reality as we know it,” he said with a dramatic touch. Then he drew a bigger circle around the first (a bit wobbly in his metal grip) and darkened the space on the outside of the circle. “And this it Truth.”

He spread his hands, palms up to frame the paper and looked up at the other alchemist expectantly.

Mustang stared back blankly.

“I’m sorry, what? That…explains nothing.”

Edward jabbed the small circle with a metal finger while he gripped the stubby pencil with a closed fist. “Us,” he said first, slowly, then at the bigger circle, “Truth.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how else I can explain this.” His tone dripped condescension as he eyed the Flame Alchemist. If he expected anyone to get this, another sharp alchemical mind like his surely….

Then again, “I guess it’s just something you have to see for yourself to understand,” he said haughtily. He’d really hoped this wasn’t a repeat of the meetings in which he was expected to explain complex alchemical theories to people who weren’t alchemists.

Mustang raised an eyebrow at the tone. “Or maybe you’re just not a very good teacher,” he answered smoothly and Edward bristled.

Smug bastard.

Edward growled in frustration, an insult on the tip of his tongue but Hawkeye cleared her throat pointedly and both alchemists looked over, Edward’s retort forgotten.

“In his defense, that doesn’t really look like alchemy,” she said with a shrug.

Mustang crossed his arms in a show of victory. “It’s not,” he said then looked Edward right in the eyes thoughtfully. “I never pegged you for a philosopher, Fullmetal.”

“What exactly is truth?” Hawkeye asked next, probably to keep the two alchemists from tearing each other’s throats out.

Edward bit his lip in thought before he answered. “It’s everything. It’s what governs alchemy on a base level. When an alchemist transmutes, he can’t make something out of nothing,” he said, this time glancing at Mustang who nodded along.

“The law of equivalence,” the older man provided.

“To complete a transmutation, an alchemist has to reach into this Truth, use it in order to balance the transmutation,” he said with a shrug of one shoulder. He knew this was not something that was easy for most people to wrap their heads around. Mustang clearly understood the concepts of equivalence on the surface level. The problem was that he, like most people, didn’t even know that the surface level was just that. That there was something more, the deeper you went….

An involuntary shudder spread up his spine and he was silent for a long moment as he stared at the white empty space on the paper.

“Think of it like money,” he said carefully after a while, choosing a new direction. “An alchemist walks into a store because he wants a hammer. When he gets to the till, he has to pay for his hammer, yeah? So he hands the clerk some money that’s the equivalent of the hammer and gets to walk out with it. Only imagine that the ‘money’ is actually wood and iron.”

Edward glanced between the two of them who were staring at him with slight matching frowns as they tried to follow along. Oh well. He pushed on.

“In this case, the ‘money’ is Truth. It’s the wood, the iron and the hammer all at once, see? It’s the clerk’s job to check and make sure the alchemist has enough ‘cash’ to pay for the hammer.”

Mustang watched him carefully, his sharp eyes calculating but he said nothing.

“So,” Edward continued, idly tapping the pencil on the paper, “everyone walks around with some ‘cash’ in their pockets for when they need to make a transaction. Only it’s not actually cash, more like a cheque. It’s a promise that the bank will make good on the payment. The alchemist has to make sure he writes the cheque correctly or the clerk won’t let him leave with the hammer.”

He tapped on the edge of the larger circle absently. There must be a better way to explain this.

“That’s how basic alchemy works,” he went on with a shrug pleased that Mustang was no longer looking at him like he was insane. “But for bigger more complex transactions, say like buying a house,” he went on without looking up from the paper, “you have to go directly to the bank. And the teller is one sadistic son-of-a-bitch.”

Edward chuckled darkly to himself. He still had nightmares…

He looked up then, holding the other alchemist’s gaze pointedly when he said this. “If you walk into the bank to buy a house and you ain’t got the funds, they’ll take what you owe from your flesh and spit you right back out the front door cussing and bleeding.”

Edward grimaced thinking of that dark, blood soaked basement. Alone. Bleeding. Terrified.

Determined.

Mustang nodded and Edward knew he understood the significance of that statement. He tapped the paper again, running his finger along the big white space between his two circles. “The space between is an endless void and the ‘Truth’ is sealed by a Gate, guarded by….well I’m not sure what it is but it’s an asshole. I,” and he hesitated, his voice lowering to a harsh, willful whisper. “I marched right back in there and demanded my brother back. I managed to snatch his body but…”

Edward made a face. He hated the cloying lump in his throat at the mention of Alphonse. He’d fucked up so badly, he’d do anything to make things right. But every time he thought he knew what he was doing, something came along to completely derail him.

“What makes you think his soul is still at the gate?” Hawkeye said, unknowingly distracting him from his miserable thoughts.

Edward took a deep breath and absently drew a little black doorway over the line that separated the outer dark space from the middle white space on the paper.

“I thought,” he answered carefully, putting his thoughts out there, “that wherever his soul was, it was intact and anchored somehow to his body. But after what happened and with the fact that I’m hearing his voice,” he made a vague gesture around his head, “I think that maybe that’s not the case.”

He looked up again at the two of them. These two; Hawkeye and Mustang. Two people that he’d come to trust with his darkest secrets. When had that happened? It hit him hard all of sudden and his breath caught. He swallowed thickly and looked away to the stretching greenery of farmland. He realised suddenly, that he liked not being alone. That these people made him feel safe. And not just them, the whole team.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

“I think that it’s, at least some parts of it, are anchored to me.” And didn’t that just open a can of what the fuck.

He dropped the pencil to rub his hands gingerly over his face.

“…parts?”

He let his hands fall as he leaned back into the cushioned seat and stared at the other alchemist. “Yeah. Parts. Pieces.” He nodded at the paper again. “Scattered pieces. And there’s at least one still in the void. And because the void exists outside of reality as we know it, it’s also existing outside of time as we know it,” he went on flatly knowing exactly how strange this all sounded. It had sounded absolutely ridiculous when he’d thought it during his feverish dreams the night before but even more so when he said it out loud.

“If he’s trying to cross the void to reach me, or rather the piece of his soul that’s attached to me, there’s no guarantee that his perception of time and our perception of time are the same.”

He looked between them from the quiet, thoughtful look on Mustang’s face to the slight concerning frown on Hawkeye’s face.

“So to us,” the older man said cautiously, “his appearances are happening out of order.”

“Exactly.” Edward couldn’t put into words how grateful he was that Mustang didn’t just call him bat shit crazy and ship him off to the nearest asylum.

“Alphonse is a year younger than you, isn’t he? He looked so old…”

And that was the other thing. How long was it going to take for him to fix his fuck up if Al was still trying to reach him at the age of what? Seventeen? Edward growled in frustration. “I know!” he snapped.

The colonel was not put off by the attitude. “Do you know who he might have been looking for?” he asked in his smooth deep voice that, dammit! helped him keep a steady head.

Edward sighed tiredly. He was running on too little sleep for all of this. “I think he was trying to reach me. Well, not this me, another me. A future me? I don’t fucking know.” And the teen brought his arms up over the paper and leaned his head into the cradle made by the fold of his elbows.

The small burst of energy he’d had when he woke up on the floor, curled around the stinking garbage can in his room and realised he had less than twenty minutes to get his ass down to the station to catch his train had been burned up. His eyes felt so heavy they burned.

Mustang seemed to sense that this conversation wasn’t going to go much further and he didn’t ask any more questions though Edward guessed Mustang and Hawkeye were exchanging looks in some sort of silent conversation again.

After a minute he felt a tug on the papers he was leaning on and when he lifted his head a fraction to glare at the man, the papers were pulled away completely.

“Don’t want you drooling on the case files,” the colonel said flatly in response to the half-hearted glare from the younger alchemist. “Get some rest. We’re going to need that brain of yours when we get to Central,” he added as he started putting the papers away. But not before waving them at the teen.

“I’ll wake you up about an hour before we arrive because you really should have a look at these before we get there,” he droned on.

But Edward had let his head fall back into his arms, blocking out the daylight by pressing his eyes into the sleeve of his red jacket and he was asleep in less than five minutes.

Thanks for reading!

- Misuto -

Chapter Text

True to his word, Roy woke the kid up about an hour out of Central City and nearly got a fist to the face for his efforts. The boy was sprawled on the bench opposite and clearly not fully awake as he stared at the older man, confusion all over his wide and groggy face. Roy made sure to lean far back out of his reach.

“Woah! Easy there, kid, you’re okay,” he said as if he was dealing with a spooked horse.

It was clear that Edward had been in a deep sleep. It was unfortunate that his knee jerk reaction was to clock the first face he sees. Roy had only managed to dodge the metal fist by a mere two centimeters. He had felt the air move against his face with how close it was.

How anyone could sleep so deeply on a train compartment bench was beyond him. Though he supposed it helped that the kid’s feet didn’t reach the end of the bench when he was lying down.

After twenty minutes of sleeping face down on the small table, Edward had sat up suddenly, silencing the hushed conversation Roy was having with his lieutenant as both adults stared at the boy. But Edward never looked at them or acknowledged their presence at all. He mumbled something unintelligible and, after shoving his suitcase off the seat like it had deeply offended him, he spread out on the cushions, face down without another word.

Roy wasn’t totally convinced he’d woken up at all for that.

Now he was starting to wake up proper and Roy saw every emotion flash across his young face from confusion to panic to an impressive death glare before settling on resignation.

Edward rubbed his face into his sleeve and left his arm covering his eyes to give them time to adjust to the light. Then with a great sigh, he pushed himself into a sitting position and yawned, making his jaw pop.

Roy had sat back down in his spot by the window and when he was sure Fullmetal was fully awake, he put the papers back on the table meaningfully and pushed them toward the younger alchemist.

Edward groaned in annoyance and though he didn’t say anything, his face had do I have to? written all over it.

“Yes,” Roy said to the unspoken sentiment. “You need to be prepared. You’re expected to show up knowing the details of the case already,” he said evenly. Riza gave a subtle nod to show that she agreed.

The boy huffed but grabbed the papers. “This information is useless. There’s nothing on the arrays used and I’ve got nothin’ to go on,” he grumbled. He flipped through the pages, happened to stop on a grainy image of someone’s bloody thigh and turned to the next page with a grimace. “What do they expect me to do that other alchemists in Central can’t?”

“Well you are supposed to be a prodigy,” Roy said without missing a beat.  

Edward levelled fierce golden eyes on him over the edge of the paper. “I am a prodigy,” he said without a hint of humbleness. “But even I can’t pull arrays out of my ass,” he added even as he returned his attention to the pages. His eyes flew across the paper and Roy had to wonder if he was actually reading the report of just skimming for key words.

Then he frowned and looked up at Roy as he thought of something. “I get why I’m going,” he said slowly, “but why are you going?” he asked suddenly and with a bluntness that the colonel had come to expect from their youngest member.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m going because you need to be babysat,” he said smoothly with a smirk.

The boy bristled and he could swear he heard Riza roll her eyes.

“You’re only on a research license,” she supplied helpfully. “As your mentor, Colonel Mustang is to accompany you because you’re still technically a rookie. You haven’t completed your training,” she explained.

Edward mumbled something that sounded like well I would if he didn’t keep pulling me out of training but he pretended to not hear.

“And I only accepted the requisition on the condition that I go with you,” he supplied. Roy hated how that made it sound like Fullmetal was a piece of special equipment on loan. Technically, as a human weapon, he was. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Regardless, if that was the case, Fullmetal was Roy’s piece of special equipment and he was damn determined not to let it out of his sight.

Edward narrowed his eyes in a way Roy had come to learn meant that he was thinking. “Okay…” he said slowly before glancing at Riza, “but why are they going?” He pointed his chin toward her by which he meant not just her but the entire team.

Roy gave an innocent smile. “Where I go, they go,” he said smugly.

The boy returned his intense stare on Roy and said “and you think I’m the one being babysat?” with a straight face.

Riza snorted in a very unladylike way, the traitor, while Roy just stared at the kid. Edward had returned his gaze to the paper but the smirk on his face betrayed him.

Was that a joke? He smiled even as he put on one of his best offended face.

“I do not need to be babysat!” he said hotly.

Edward’s smirk only grew wider and he shared a quick, amused glance with Riza. “You go ahead and keep on believing that,” he said going back to his papers.

He ignored them after that. Which was fine by Roy, honestly, because being roasted by at thirteen year old was not great for his confidence. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

He busied himself with his own documents and the time passed in relative peace until the kid huffed in annoyance and turned to the next page aggressively. Roy ignored him. It was obvious to him that Edward was doing it on purpose to get his attention. He knew the kid could focus like a predator if he wanted to. After two minutes of listening to (and ignoring) the put-upon sighs and huffs, Roy’s patience was wearing thin but he’d be damned if he acknowledged the show for what it was.

Finally, Edward gave in first. He threw the papers down on the bench beside him and sighed loudly in an obvious show of ‘I’m bored’ and glared at the man.

Roy ignored him but he was finding it hard to concentrate on his own work.

Then, the boy sat up straight. “I need a coffee,” he declared as he got to his feet.

Roy did look up then. “Are you finished reading already?” he asked with disinterest glossing over the fact that the kid was drinking coffee. He was not surprised in the least. 

Edward rolled his eyes. “No but any more and I might actually die of brain rot,” he said flatly as he put his coat on. The garish red one.

When the compartment door closed, he shared a glance with Riza and they both went back to reading their papers. It was blissfully silent again.

It was a good forty minutes later that Roy realised that Edward never came back.

As it turned out, Edward never did get his coffee. He ran into Breda on his way from the toilet and followed the man to the second private compartment reserved for their party. The perks of travelling with a Colonel.

He spent the rest of the trip snatching salted crackers from Fuery and beating Havoc repeatedly at cards. He managed to win a full pack of smokes by the time they pulled into the station and the man accepted utter defeat.

He gathered up his prize with glee and met Fuery’s dubious stare with a smirk and a wink.

On the platform Edward met the older alchemist’s searching gaze with defiance but managed to dodge Mustang’s lecture thanks to an overeager man in uniform who pounced on the colonel. The balding man, his uniform markings claiming him as Captain, showered the Flame Alchemist with praise and salutations as if he was royalty and the whole show made the younger alchemist want to gag.

He made to duck around the crowd but found he was surrounded by men and women in blue. No one seemed to pay any attention to him though and he stood to the side with the team while he tried not to listen to Mustang play his part in the circus.

A shadow fell over him. And when Edward looked over, his eyes met a wall of blue and had to travel up, up up to find the face attached to the massive body. A very burly man with a curling blond mustache looked down on him and they stared at each other for a long uncomfortable moment before the man held his hand out to the young man.

“You must be Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. I’ve heard much about you!” he boomed. Edward eyed the extended hand warily but made no move to take it. He hated shaking hands. He worried his grip would be either too weak or crushing. The man didn’t seem to care either way. “I am Alex Louis Armstrong,” he introduced himself, “The Strong Arm Alchemist!” and he clapped Edward on the shoulder with one of his massive mitts instead.

Edward just about tasted paving stones but he managed to stay upright. “Uh, hi,” he said. Is it rude to take several steps back at this point?

Yes.

Edward didn’t give a shit if he was being rude. He moved away slightly but he didn’t get very far. The man draped one massive arm around Edward’s shoulders and squeezed while he shook his hand vigorously with the other.

“It is truly an honour to meet the youngest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris! The thrill to be had discussing alchemy with such a brilliant young mind is simply too much of an opportunity to pass up! I’d be happy to share the knowledge of alchemy passed down by the Armstrong family for generations!”

Edward was struggling to breathe at this point. He was pretty sure his lips were turning blue and he was seeing stars.

“Major Armstrong, you’re going to strangle the boy,” came the heavenly voice of his rescuer. He was deposited at Hawkeye’s feet gasping.

“Riza Hawkeye, it’s good to see you!” the man, Armstrong, boomed at her instead. He took her hand much more gently, placing one massive hand over their clasped hands and beaming.

“Yes, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” she said.

The man’s expression turned somber. “Indeed. Come, you’re expected at headquarters.” He motioned to some uniforms and things got set in motion.

Edward found himself being corralled into a car with Mustang, Hawkeye and Armstrong. It was a tight squeeze. The trip to headquarters from the station was filled with Armstrong chattering away and Hawkeye’s polite responses.

Edward stayed quiet and watched the tall brick and cement buildings pass by the windows. He hated Central for a number of reasons but the one that stood out the most was the feeling of a mouse being caught in a maze and forced to run the course for someone’s entertainment.

Central held zero good memories for him.

Once the gates of Central Headquarters closed behind the car the feeling of being trapped intensified.

Roy was used to this game. It didn’t mean he liked it. But it also didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. He truly was in his element; charming, charismatic and silver tongued. He gave away just enough to make himself likeable but not enough to make him vulnerable.

The kid made him nervous. Edward was a wild card.

Actually, he thought as he watched the kid glare murderously at an innocent bystander, more like a wild animal that was likely to bite if anyone stuck their hand too close.

He didn’t fail to notice how Fullmetal stayed unnaturally close to him. He was rigid and tense and his eyes darted from person to person every time they entered a new room.

They went through hours of polite chatter and meetings like this and Edward, though looking more and more grumpy and downright feral the longer it went on, never said anything more than the required monosyllabic response. Roy really hoped they could just be excused for the day and start fresh in the morning down with investigations. That’s why they were here, after all.

And he really needed to talk to someone with a good head on their shoulders even if that meant he had to put up with the barrage of photographs.

Finally, they were shown to their accommodations. Roy had his own room of course. It was nothing fancy but that didn’t surprise him. This was the military, not a royal suite. He knew Edward’s room was two doors down from his, in the officer’s quarters. The rest of the team were divided into men’s and women’s quarters which meant that Riza had the room to herself while the other four had to share.

After neatly unpacking his toiletries and hanging up his uniform for tomorrow, he made sure he still looked respectable and headed back out. Before leaving, he stopped in front of Fullmetal’s door and hesitated for a second before knocking. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder.

This time, he was rewarded with a thump and the sound of heavy footfalls before the door was yanked open. Edward frowned as soon as he registered who it was. He was shirtless and his hair was damp, falling loose to frame his young face.

“What do you want? I thought we were free for the night,” he spat before Roy could even say anything.

He sighed, slightly annoyed. “I just wanted to make sure you were settled in alright. You seemed…” He hesitated but ultimately decided it was best not to mince words with this one. “A little tense,” Roy finished. It was a vast understatement considering how jumpy the kid had been all afternoon. He carefully avoided staring at the automail but it was very difficult.

Edward stared at him thoughtfully for a second. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was trying to decide between reassuring the man that he was alright and telling him to fuck off.

In the end, the young face settled on a tired and annoyed sigh as he leaned on the open door. “Just peachy,” he said flatly. It was clear to Roy that he wasn’t going to get anything else.

“Alright then, be ready for 7:00 and we’ll head over to catch breakfast as a unit before heading over to investigations,” he said smoothly.

Edward gave a sharp nod and made to close the door but Roy put his hand out, stopping it. “And don’t leave the dorms tonight,” he said firmly. “And don’t do anything stupid,” he added with a pointed look.

Edward scoffed, looking properly offended.

“That’s an order,” Roy emphasised, putting as much of his commanding authority into it as he could.

“Ok fine. Are we done, Sir?” the last bit was tacked on with contempt.

“Yes,-”

Edward snapped the door shut instead of saying anything and Roy sighed as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Goodnight Fullmetal.”

Maes was already waiting for him at the table in the corner, two whiskeys on the table. He sank into the booth seat with a sigh and the other man raised an eyebrow.

“You look like you’ve aged ten years, Roy,” he said without preamble even as he pushed the drink toward him with a wide grin.

Roy made a face. “Thanks,” he said grumpily, “you too.”

“Well I have an angelic newborn, I have an excuse to look like crap,” Maes said. His eyes were dead serious, ruined somewhat by the dark circles underneath but his voice was all tease.

“Yeah? Well I have a teenager,” Roy shot back. “Which is a thousand times worse. All yours does is eat, sleep and poop. You won’t have to worry about getting a phone call at 2 AM to go bail her out of jail for at least another fifteen years.” He emptied his whiskey in one swig and was not surprised that another miraculously appeared on the table with nothing more than a smile and a wink from one of the girls. That’s why he loved this place, it was like coming home.

Maes laughed and held up his glass. The two clinked together. “To suddenly being fathers,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

Maes allowed Roy a moment to mourn his lost freedom before the photos came out. The baby was pretty cute once she got over looking like a wrinkled potato. One particular photo was (he guessed) one of Gracia’s hands with a tiny hand resting in her palm and Roy had to admit that it was pretty sweet.

More than anything, he was happy for his friend. Maes was glowing with pride as he showed Roy the photos of his “sweet angels”. Although he felt he could have been spared the re-counting of milky spit-ups and poop-apocalypses.

“Gracia wants the whole gang over for dinner tomorrow night. She’s already bought four chickens so don’t you dare say no,” Maes warned as he stowed away to the photos.

Roy groaned. “Including Edward?” he asked. He had no problem with Gracia and certainly not with her cooking. But…

“Especially Edward,” Maes cut in emphatically. And he didn’t let Roy protest the matter any further. If Gracia had already bout four chickens there was no backing out. Period.

They moved on to other things, catching up until Maes set his empty glass down. Beer this time, because I’m on the early morning shift, Roy. Baby needs to eat.

“Why him though,” the man said thoughtfully. “Why not Gibbins or even Tucker? Why Fullmetal? The kid’s thirteen for God’s sake he’s got no experience with investigations.”

Roy frowned at his own drink. “He may not have experience but you should have seen his certification test score. Kid knows his alchemy that’s for sure. But still, you’re right.” He met Maes’s eye then. “You smell something foul too, don’t you?”

“Bringing him in to Central for this reeks of political ulterior motives.” Maes jabbed his finger into the table for emphasis. “You keep a close eye on that one, Roy.”

And before Roy could say anything, Maes jumped onto the next topic. He was like that, his best friend. Full of energy and his mind spinning too fast to settle on one thought for too long. The only exception being his darling little angel.

“Speaking of test scores,” he said with a wide grin spreading across his face. “Which poor soul are you going to destroy for your own assessment?”

Roy laughed. “Oh please. I haven’t been properly tested in combat for almost three years.” They usually just gave him a medical and psychological evaluation and renewed his licence. He’d already proven his worth to the military a hundred fold in Ishval. “I can’t exactly test my skills for real in a mock battle anyway, my alchemy is lethal,” he pointed out.

“And what about your protégé? His assessment is coming up too, isn’t it?”

Roy started peeling the label off the glass bottle in front of him. “He’s working on a paper for his research licence but it’s classified research, apparently, so I’m not on his committee. He’s going to test for a combat licence too.”

Maes sucked in a harsh breath. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Roy didn’t answer. He continued to tear the label into pieces.

“Roy, if we go to war he’ll be sent out to, to…” he moved his hands together in a sad mimic of an explosion.

“I know.” Roy hissed. He’d lost enough sleep over this he didn’t need to be reminded. “But there’s a good chance that if we go to war he’d be sent out anyway and at least this way I’ll know he can defend himself. He had no training Maes. None whatsoever.” He clenched his fist because this still made him angry. “Who the hell thought it was a good idea to give a State Alchemist’s licence to a little kid and not even ensure he was prepared for the job,” he added much more quietly. Even here there could be ears listening

“And? Is he?” Maes asked him soberly, “prepared for the job, I mean,” he added when Roy looked up from the mess of paper he’d made on the table.

The colonel’s face morphed into an annoyed frown. “He’s brash, impulsive, reckless and loud,” he said as he incinerated the paper in a flash of concentrated fire alchemy.

Maes raised an amused eyebrow. “Not what I asked.”

Roy glared at the pile of ash for a moment and sighed. “Yeah, I think so. He’s made of tough stuff and HEY!”

Roy ducked under the second attack of a clipboard and looked up to glare at Vanessa. His sister’s beautiful face was set in a disapproving frown. “No fire Roy!” she hissed. “Madame is not going to let you come in here if you’re going to try to burn the place down. Again.”

“I was fourteen!” he defended, scooting back into the booth away from her reach. “I didn’t try to burn anything down, it was an accident!”

She glared at him, swept the ashes off the table pointedly before taking their empty glasses and bottles and walked away.

Maes’ grin stretched from one side of his face to the other. “brash, impulsive and reckless,” he repeated. “Sounds like you.”

Roy kicked him under the table.

Edward didn’t eat breakfast in the morning. He stashed some bagels in his pocket for later but his stomach was still not one hundred percent and his automail was killing him today. He tried to hide the limp and the jerky movement when his shoulder twinged. The others said nothing but he knew they noticed. He did not want their pity.

Finally, they headed down to investigations where he was introduced to a very enthusiastic man named Lt. Colonel Maes Hughes who was the head of the department.

The others knew him. There was a definite air of friendship around this man. He was open and friendly but Edward saw a sharpness in his eyes.

This man noticed everything. This man was very intelligent.

“You should sit down,” he said suddenly right in the middle of his presentation of the previous crime scenes. The others looked at each other confused until Hughes looked up from his papers to stare directly at Edward. He’d chosen a spot by the wall but his posture was slowly crumpling under the pain of staying on his feet.

He frowned and straightened up but Hughes had already moved on with his briefing and there was an empty chair right there. With a quiet sigh, Edward pulled the chair back toward him and sat down. It did feel good to take the weight off his leg.

That was their entire day: information. The team worked with Hughes' team to comb through the evidence reports with fresh eyes.

Edward was bored out of his mind.

 None of this was related to alchemy. They also went to visit the sites where the bodies had been found, which took up most of the day. But, and Edward confirmed this, the crime scenes were just where the bodies were dumped, not where the massacres happened. And they were old so even if there were signs of alchemy, time and the elements would have swept them away.

“This is a waste of time,” he complained in the car on the way to the next stop.

Hawkeye glanced at him in the rear view mirror once but kept her attention on the road.

“Maybe,” the colonel said, “but maybe not.”

They pulled up to an old factory. The roof was gone and what was left of the walls were blackened by fire and smoke. Whatever happened to this building happened a long time ago because nature had already reclaimed it. The group walked a narrow path through tall grasses that had once been the factory floor to a back corner where the roof was still partially intact.

There wasn’t much to look at. This, according to Lt Col. Hughes, was where the first one was found. As he went about pointing things out while referencing the photographs from the case, Edwad’s eyes fell on something the man had completely glossed over. He froze at the partial rune. It looked like graffiti and he would have dismissed it too if he hadn’t spent the better part of two years learning about this stuff and plotting to commit human transmutation.

He ignored the group as they moved on following a trail of evidence that no longer existed. Edward was rooted to the spot as he stared at that rune. Nothing more than half a squiggly line but he knew it.

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder and he glared at the man.

Mustang instantly removed his hand but stayed close. “What do you see?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Edward shook his head. The more he stared at it, the more he doubted that it was what he thought and maybe it was just a coincidence that the graffiti looked like ancient Xerxian alchemy. Maybe he was just a little jumpy-

Stop lying to yourself and go over there and take a closer look.

“Fine! I will!”

Mustang gave him a strange look. “Are you….talking to me? Or…”

He ignored the man, trudged through the grass to get up close to the wall. He traced a finger in the air above the lines. It was faded and the lighting was not great but it was definitely The White Bear. Edward pulled a chalk stub from his pocket. He didn’t need to draw transmutation circles anymore but he also believed in being prepared and, well, old habits die hard.

He brought the chalk up just as he heard “No, don’t-” but he ignored that too and finished the rune seconds before the chalk was plucked from his fingers and Hughes was suddenly there. “-contaminate the evi- oh never mind.”

Edward looked between the Lt. Col and the rune, pointed at it and said “it’s alchemy. You seriously missed this the first time?” he snorted and shook his head. “Amateurs.”

He moved on, examining the wall closely. In his peripheral he saw Hughes whip the chalk at Mustang before the man turned his camera on The White Bear Edward had completed. He found three more barely visible runes, all ancient Xerxian. With Hughes breathing down his neck, he didn’t pull another chunk of chalk like he wanted to. He drew the runes in his notebook instead and let man photograph away.

After a thorough search of the area didn’t produce any more signs of alchemy and the daylight was starting to fade, they called it a day.

“Thank you Edward, this has given us enough to dig more into this particular location. I’d love to hear your insights on the particulars of the alchemy we found today.” Hughes gave him a beaming smile that made Edward feel incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re coming for dinner, right?” he asked next. And before Edward had a chance to say hell no, Hughes continued as he practically shoved the kid into the car. “My Gracia is looking forward to meeting you and of course you’re going to love my darling angel Elicia! She made a whole feast for you guys. Gracia of course, the baby can’t cook yet. We’ll see you later!”

The door was slammed shut and Edward was left wondering what the hell just happened. Why couldn’t he say no to this guy? He was just too damn nice!

He was still slightly baffled an hour later, sandwiched at the Hughes’ dinner table between Breda and Falman as a bowl of mashed potatoes was being passed over his head.

Someone had scooped and generous helping of chicken, peas and some sort of green leafy salad onto his plate and all he could do was stare at the delicious food as his stomach gave an encouraging grumble.

He looked around at the gathered people. There was more than just Mustang’s team; some old military friends, Gracia’s sister (with kids in tow) and the elderly neighbour from three doors down (apparently it was his birthday).

Edward contemplated the strange assortment of people as he nibbled on his chicken. They all seemed so…happy. Like a big family.

He’d never had that. Their dinner table consisted of him, Al and Mom. Sometimes, they’d go over to Granny’s but Mom didn’t have an extended family and their father….

Edward did not even want to think about his father.

“Pass the gravy?” Breda gave him a nudge that snapped him out of his thoughts. “Yo, Elric. Gravy.”

As Edward passed the ceramic gravy boat to the man, he caught Mustang watching him. Creep.

After dinner, he entertained the older kids with some alchemy. He made animals out of paper for them and he enjoyed the big smiles that produced but he had his limits too. All of this; the attention, the chatter and looks. It was a bit much. At least no one asked him to hold the baby.

So when he got the chance he snuck away with the excuse of going to find the toilet. Down the hall, he inspected the framed photographs on the wall and admired the antique grandfather clock in the corner. He poked his head into darkened bedrooms, the bathroom and finally found himself standing in front of a set of closed double doors.

He gently tried the handle and found it locked.

With a quick glance around and a mischievous grin, he used alchemy to force the lock open and squeezed inside.

You’re snooping and this is wrong, Al echoed disapproving in his mind.

“I won’t touch anything,” he whispered. Al’s presence was like a little flame in his heart. He couldn’t remember the moment he’d realised that’s what it was but when he accepted it, it was like it had opened his awareness to that little part of his brother’s existence. Before, he had tried to communicate with Al by calling out and expecting an answer as if his little brother was just on the other side of a telephone wire. But it was more like an extension of his own thoughts. It was comforting, in a way, knowing he was never truly alone.

But it also meant he was never truly alone. He'd gotten used to speaking his thoughts out loud because it made him more sure of which were his thoughts and which were Al’s. But that also meant he was, at least to an outside observer, talking to himself frequently. And he’d have to be careful or he might end up with a one way ticket to the asylum.

The room was dark but he guessed this was the study. The back wall was lined with bookshelves and a desk was pushed against one wall. The room was messy and Edward had to skirt around some piled books. Another pile of boxes was topped with an overflowing phot album. The shelves were lined with photography supplies and spare camera parts.

But the desk caught his eye. The papers had been shoved to one side and the desk top protected under a spread of newspapers. On the newsprint, an assortment of knives glinted invitingly and Edward couldn’t resist the pull of sharp and shiny objects.

He turned one over in his hand. They were small and oddly shaped knives.

Oh, “I won’t touch anything” he says.

“I’m just looking!” he hissed with a roll of his eyes.

We look with our EYES brother, not our hands, Al chastised in a way that was hauntingly similar to Mom.

Next to the knives, a whetstone and rags were left out. Obviously someone had been in the process of sharpening these bad boys.

“You know, usually a locked door is meant to keep people out,” a calm voice said from behind. Edward jumped and automatically hid the knife behind his back as he turned.

Hughes was leaning on the door frame looking amused. He reached over and flicked the light on before entering the room, his sharp green eyes trained on the boy.

“I was just looking,” he said as Hughes came up to him and held a hand out. Edward carefully placed the knife in the man’s hand. “I wasn’t gonna take anything, I swear.”

Hughes chuckled. “I don’t have deep secrets in here, in case you were wondering,” he said as he placed the knife back on the desk next to the others. “I only locked it because I knew there’d be little kids here today and these are not toys. They’re dangerous,” he said, choosing a different one. He held it between two fingers with ease.

“Ever used a throwing knife before?” he asked next before Edward could properly retort that he was not a little kid.

The tension in Edward’s shoulders lessened. He’d honestly been expecting a lecture and was caught by surprise by the man’s gentle nature. He shook his head cautiously.

Hughes whipped the knife across the room so fast Edward hadn’t even registered the man moving until he heard the dull thunk. The knife was embedded in a wooden target board hanging on the opposite wall.

Dead centre.

When he turned to look at the man with a whole new level of respect, Hughes was holding a second knife out to him. “Go ahead, try it,” he said.

Edward took the knife with his right hand awkwardly then switched it to his left and did his best to throw it smoothly the way the Lt. Col. had done. It went wide and hit the wall 2 feet to the right of the target board and bounced, clattering to the floor.

“Huh,” he said after a grimace, “You made that look so easy.” The pool match had taught him not to be too cocky with a skill he wasn’t experienced with and he touched the earring subconsciously.

Hughes laughed. “And I’m sure you make alchemy look easy,” he said easily. “It takes practice, like everything else.” The man considered him for a moment, thoughtful. Then he held up a finger and started rummaging through boxes.

Edward stood by the desk awkwardly while the man searched.

“Aha,” he said, pulling a beaten-up box from under a pile of papers. He brought out a bundle of canvas and set it down on the desk, unrolling it. A different set of throwing knives gleamed in the lamplight. They were well used, some with large chips in the blade. “My old set,” he said with pride.

He turned a friendly smile to Edward. “If you’re interested in learning, I’ll lend them to you,” he said.

Edward’s grin split his face as he ran a hand over the knives.

“I’ll sharpen then for you first,” Hughes went on with a matching grin. “And I have an old holster that you can have, just got to remember where I put it,” he said as he scratched at his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the boxes in the room.

You’re lucky he’s so nice.

“Oh Lord, please tell me you didn’t just give him knives. Because that’s all he needs.”

They both turned to see Mustang in the doorway. He looked disapproving but Hughes just laughed. “Doesn’t hurt to learn new skills, Roy!”

The man ruffled Edward’s hair (Hey! Don’t touch the hair!) and then clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture that turned into a bit of forceful guidance as he directed the teen toward the door. “Let’s not keep our company waiting,” he said.

He practically pushed the two alchemists out of his study as he turned the light off and re-locked the door with a pointed look at Edward.

“So, who wants to play cards?”

Edward watched the two men walk ahead of him and couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He couldn’t wait to start throwing knives because that was just fucking cool.

He decided, in that moment, that Maes Hughes wasn’t such a bad guy.

Thanks for Reading!

- Misuto -