I'll Love You More, Ch. 4 Pt. 1
Title: I’ll Love You More
Chapter: # 4, Secrets and Celebration, Part One
Previous: 1, I, 2, 3, II
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for the entire series.
Chapter Summary: Al returns to Central for the annual State Alchemist examinations and Ed gets to see some old friends, and everyone has something to hide… lots of plot, lots of worms…
Chapter Four: Secrets and Celebration
Winry hadn’t looked at the automail catalogue she had spread over her lap since she opened it. She was watching Al watch Ed sleep.
Al was sitting sideways with his feet up on the train seat with Kaiya curled against his chest, but his gaze was focused entirely on his brother. At first glance it would seem that Ed slept a lot, but Winry knew the truth: in fact Ed slept very little, and at odd hours. The three of them had been up very late the night before, talking and otherwise procrastinating and then even later beginning to pack, and she had a feeling that Ed had remained awake several hours even after she and Al had gone to bed. He was sleeping now, though, and had been for most of the train ride, curled in on himself in the opposite corner of the compartment from his brother, who watched him, entranced.
Al supposed his older brother would be unrecognizable to a stranger. What did strangers know of Ed? They knew him as a wild legend, the boy from the stories, from the Amestris of another era, now, the boy with the blonde braid and the red coat. Before they had left for the station in Altenburg, Winry had pinned his brother’s golden hair up on his head (like a girl’s, came Ed’s snarling protest, but even Ed could not argue with the results) and Al had placed the black fedora over top, effectively (he hoped) disguising him from curious onlookers.
Al wasn’t sure if his brother truly understood how important it was that he remain anonymous. The Ed he remembered had been a glutton for attention, and this newer, older, foreign Ed seemed content to just exist in the back ground, but Al couldn’t tell if this was a true change in character or just an attempt to placate his younger brother’s insistences. To be fair, Al had to admit that he hadn’t really given his brother all the reasons his existence had to remain secret.
He knew about his brother’s guilt, oh, did he ever know about it. Even as children, Ed had always held himself responsible for anything that happened to Al, even things that all children did, like scraping a knee or skinning a knuckle. Ed had always felt that it was his job to look out for him, and if anything at all happened to Al, then it was an indication that he was not doing his job as an older brother. This was years ago, but until recently these had been the only memories Al had of his brother, and they were perfectly clear in his mind.
His brother’s guilt was legendary. Everyone who had been close to Ed had told him about it. Izumi had told him how he had insisted that their failed transmutation had been his fault entirely, even though the memories of it had been fresh in Al’s ten-year-old mind and Al knew it had been something they had planned together. Winry and Pinako had told him how Ed had not allowed himself to cry out during the many painful surgeries it took to attach his automail, because he felt that his physical pain was nothing compared to what he had put his younger brother through. In those days, in the days that Al had been ten years old for the second time in his life, he had longed to tell his brother that it wasn’t his fault. He had longed to smack him on the back of his head, to yell at him, hands on his hips, they way their mother used to, to repeat the truth enough times that Ed accepted it: that the transmutation had been both of their doings, and that what had happened to Al was no fault of Ed’s. But Ed had not been there, and Al had grown up with non-memories of Edward’s guilt.
He didn’t know if Ed knew that the new government had blamed him entirely for the disappearance of an entire military unit in Lior. He didn’t know if this was something General Mustang had told him about while Al had been in Germany or not, but he thought it was unlikely. It had been, to Al’s vehement protests, General Mustang himself who had allowed the blame to be placed on his brother, for more than just the Lior massacre. Fullmetal is no longer part of this world, the General had told him. Wherever he is, the military cannot touch him. Let the blame go to him, rather than those who have lives yet to be lived.
Al had been incensed, screaming and throwing things around Mustang’s office, throwing a tantrum of true Elric proportions, he would have made his brother proud, several members of Mustang’s crew had noted, watching him slam the door and storm out of the building, throwing his watch on the ground outside the door to the headquarters. It had been Fuery who had picked up the watch, dusted it off, and returned it to Al when he had cooled down enough to set foot back on military property again. Trust him, Al, the man had said, quietly, sincerely. Your brother trusted him, you’ve got to trust him too.
In those days Al found it hard to believe that his brother had trusted anyone, let alone anyone as blatantly manipulative as Roy Mustang. Now, as he watched Ed sleep, he wondered again if Ed knew that most of the country considered him a murderer of thousands. He wondered if Ed knew that most of the country had bought Mustang’s explanations, accepted them as truth just like they accepted the new leadership, allowing Amestris to become a very different place from the one Ed had disappeared from so many years ago.
He didn’t want to lie to his brother; he didn’t want to hide things from him and he knew that Ed could tell there were things Al wasn’t telling him, but he couldn’t bring himself to dump anything else on his conscience. It was, after all, the younger brother’s job to look out for the older one when no one was looking.
Suddenly Ed startled awake, sitting up abruptly, his eyes wide with terror and his heart racing. He gave a strangled yelp, and Winry was at his side in an instant, her automail catalogue fluttering to the floor, forgotten.
“Ed,” she said, kneeling in front of him, taking his hands in her own. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, her voice thick with concern. “What happened, what’s the matter?”
His gaze was slowly focusing on her, his eyes returning to a normal size as he took in the moving train compartment. He jerked his hands out of her grip. “Nothing,” he muttered, “I’m fine.”
She rose from where she was kneeling, coming to sit beside him on the train bench. “It’s not nothing,” she said, quietly, insistently. “What happened?”
He turned to face her, annoyance sliding off his words. “I said nothing, didn’t I?” he snapped, rubbing at his eyes with his hand and letting himself sit back against the wall of the compartment. “I’m fine, leave me alone.” He pressed his hand to his chest, as if feeling for the beating of his heart, and inched away from her, closer to the wall of the compartment.
“Was it a nightmare?” Al asked quietly, not moving from his seat.
Ed nodded, once, and said nothing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Winry asked gently.
“No,” said both brothers in unison, their eyes meeting across the compartment, and Al watched his brother press his lips together grimly.
Just then the train began to screech to a halt. They were not in Central yet, but the stop signified that they were coming close. At the change in movement Kaiya stirred in Al’s arms, screwing her face up and beginning to howl. “Hey!” he protested, trying to rock her back and forth the way Winry did, attempting to imitate the movement of the train. “Hey, Kaiya, don’t cry, come on, do you want your bottle?” Her cry was piercing, and Al looked up desperately at his brother and Winry, his eyes clearly saying what should I do?
Winry immediately stood up to retrieve the bag of baby paraphernalia from the overhead compartment, reaching into the side pocket and thrusting the pacifier at Al. “Here, give her this,” she directed, but Kaiya refused it, managing to both close her lips against the plastic nipple and continue to cry.
“She doesn’t want it,” Al said, and Winry snatched it from him, trying to coax it into the baby’s mouth.
Winry began to dig in the bag for the bottle, already filled with milk and sealed in a plastic bag.
“If she doesn’t want the pacifier she isn’t going to want her bottle either,” Al argued, and Winry glared at him.
“Maybe she’s hungry,” she said, irritated, holding up the pacifier. “If I was hungry and someone gave me this instead, I’d be angry too.” She took her daughter from Al’s arms and stood in the middle of the compartment, trying to rock her while the train stood stopped at the station and the people exiting the train glared at them as they passed their seats. “Okay, baby, come on, don’t cry,” she pleaded, “have some milk-“
“Maybe she doesn’t like milk,” Ed put in, and both Al and Winry glared at him, but Kaiya was refusing the bottle as well.
“Oh, so now you’re the shining example of a perfect parent?” Winry demanded, rocking the squalling baby up and down and frustration emanating from her being.
Ed stood, his expression still irritated. “Maybe she’s just tired of sitting on this stuffy train,” he snapped back, holding his arms out to take her.
Winry looked at him hard, biting back a nasty retort, but placed the baby in his arms. Just then the train lurched to a start again, and they all three jerked backward at the movement, Ed slamming down into his seat again and Al and Winry into each other.
When the train was moving along steadily and all three of them were seated in their original places, Kaiya’s howl had subsided to a mere whimper and Ed was singing something under his breath. Neither Al nor Winry could catch an inkling of the tune, because when Ed sang it was more of a chant than a melody anyway, but the words, or what they could hear of them, were unfamiliar. “What’s that, Ed?” Winry asked curiously.
“Something Al taught me,” he said distractedly, picking up the song again as soon as he spoke, eyes focused entirely on the baby.
When Winry looked at Al questioningly, he gave her an odd look. “A different Al,” he told her, and both brothers refused to elaborate further.
Aside from the train station, it had been ten years since he had seen Central, and his eyes traveled from one change to the next, probably making him look like a tourist, he thought with amusement. Let them think he was a tourist, he didn’t care. No one would pick him out as the Fullmetal Alchemist, that was for sure. Blond braid? He touched the back of his hair, under the hat: nope. Red coat? He shoved his hand into the pocket of his brown coat from Germany (which Al had originally wanted to wear, even though it was really too small for him) and tried to picture his old red one in his room in Germany. Nope, no red coat here. Automail? He looked down at his dragging left foot. Sadly, no, although soon that would be remedied, he hoped. This was certainly not the Fullmetal Alchemist returned from the dead.
“Don’t get into any trouble, Brother”, Al had chided him as he stood in front of the mirror tying back his hair. Ed had protested, but Al had just smiled sweetly and insisted, “I know you. Don’t try to pretend it could never happen.”
“Well,” Ed had grumbled, “you could ensure I won’t be up to no good by just letting me come see you at the certification exam. I said I wanted to see your alchemy, and besides, by the way you describe it it sounds like it’s more of a chance for you to show off than to actually be evaluated. You said yourself there’s going to be tons of people there, I’ll just blend into the crowd.”
“Brother,” Al had said wearily, “I have never known you to blend into a crowd. It’s just not a good idea; you know it’s not a good idea, think of who’s going to be there! Think of what could happen if someone recognizes you!” Al had said, exasperated, having repeated this sentiment several times over.
“And what, exactly, could happen if someone recognizes me, Al?”
“You could get arrested, and I’d never see you again,” Al had said seriously.
Ed had just shrugged, not taking Al’s statement as truth. “Nah, I’d escape, and be back at home with you in no time,” he had assured his brother, but Al had not laughed, and Ed had changed his tone. “All right, I’m not coming,” he had said, serious this time. “You told me not to come and I’m respecting that, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life hiding, either!”
Al had given a frustrated sigh, turning away from the mirror to face him. “I know,” he had said quietly. “But we’re in the middle of Central, of all places. I’m not saying you have to hide inside the whole time we’re here, I’m just saying you should stay away from the military, and be discreet- hey!” he had cried then, as Winry ruffled her hand through his bangs.
Ed smirked to himself, rounding the corner. Yep, discreet was definitely a word that was often used to describe him, he thought, the sarcasm just dripping from his mind. He didn’t have any particular destination; he was just enjoying the bustle of the city streets. Altenburg was a small town, but it wasn’t home to him and so he felt no affinity for the place. Of course, he missed Rizembool, but more often than he expected to he felt himself missing the crowded streets of Munich as well.
He shook his head. That couldn’t be right. It was Alphonse he missed, Alphonse had been the only good thing he had come upon in that world; Alphonse who was not his brother at all, who was a different person entirely, who had become his family and his friend and his lover all at once in that foreign place.
It was still hard to believe that every morning that he woke up, he would wake up here, at home. He would never stop at the little café down the street from his and Alphonse’s apartment for an early morning bite to eat before locking himself in the lab. He would never sit in his favorite corner of the Munich library surrounded by books that had become familiar to him, never wave to the kind librarian lady on his way out. He would never feel out of sorts after walking past the run-down house that he and his father had shared when they first arrived in Germany. In fact, according to his brother, the lab that he had spent the better part of two years in didn’t even exist; it had exploded perhaps even the very second he arrived back in Amestris.
“Come on, I just want to talk to you,” said one of the voices behind him. The sidewalks were less crowded now, and Ed thought there were maybe two people behind him now, a man and a woman.
“Go away, I said,” said the woman’s voice, and it sounded familiar to him but at first he could not place it.
“Come on, just consider what I said. It’s just some obscure information. No one will know if you give it to me or not.” came the man’s wheedling tone. “Hey. How come you’re not answering me? Hey. Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?”
Ed spun around, and recognized the woman at once, it was Winry’s friend, the bookworm. “Leave her alone,” he snapped, glaring at the man through narrowed eyes.
“Hey buddy,” the man said, voice dripping with condescension, “If she’s not gonna talk to me, she sure as hell wont talk to a shrimp like you.” Ed felt his blood boil. Did this jerk have any idea who he was dealing with? He had grown-
“Ed!” Sheizka squeaked in surprise.
“You know this guy?” the man asked incredulously, and Ed felt his heart jump. The man was wearing a military uniform.
Sheizka, however, remained speechless.
“Yes,” Ed said boldly, his voice more cocky than he actually felt. “Now get lost. The lady is clearly not interested in you.”
A vein seemed to bulge in the man’s neck, and his face reddened to match his hair, but then he relaxed and shrugged, rolling his eyes. He brushed an invisible piece of lint off his uniform, saying finally, “Fine, I don’t have time for this anyways,” and turned on his heel to walk the opposite direction.
The two stood staring at each other for a moment, and then Ed rubbed the back of his head. “So, long time no see, eh?”
Sheizka took this opportunity to faint, and he caught her awkwardly. Well, at least his afternoon wouldn’t be boring.
Ed leaned against the back of the uncomfortable café chair, tapping his fingers idly on the side of his coffee mug and observing Sheizka with an amused expression, certain that he could just about see the little alien spacecrafts floating around her head and wondering what she would conclude if she ever saw an actual airplane flying through the sky.
“Alien technology,” she said, her hands pressed together and her eyes shining behind her thick glasses, “must be incredible, to be able to build something like that, that can fly around in outer space. Imagine how much knowledge they have, imagine what their books must be like! Did you know,” she said, leaning forward, “that aliens built the pyramids?”
Ed just laughed. “I have heard that,” he admitted, at first brushing the idea off. It was possible, anything, he had learned, was possible, but aliens and pyramids did not pertain to his search for a way to open the gate, so- “Wait a minute!” he said, sitting bolt upright. The pyramids. The geometric stone tombs, huge, the burial places for rulers of an ancient culture long gone from a world in another universe! “Sheizka!” he hissed. “What are you talking about? What pyramids?”
She smiled conspiratorially. “I figured you would know about the pyramids,” she said, almost slyly. “You’ve always believed in things no one else did.”
He shook his head, his coffee mug forgotten. “No, no,” he insisted. “I don’t know anything about the pyramids, how could I possibly- what are you talking about? I’ve never read anything about pyramids, not in this world.” He spoke the last part of his sentence without thinking, and immediately regretted it. He had assured Sheizka that he was not a ghost; that he had not returned from the dead, he had merely been away for a long while. He had not told her that “away” meant he was living in another dimension, and he did not understand what the ancient history of that world was doing mixed up with this young woman’s left-field alien theories.
“Then you haven’t been reading the right books,” she told him, and then glanced up suspiciously. “Unless you’re just making fun of me?” she added uncertainly, placing her hands palms down on the table. “Everyone always does this to me, they see how long they can get me talking about stuff they think is utter nonsense, just so they can tease me about it later-“
Ed was shaking his head, trying to reassure her. “I’m not making fun of you,” he insisted, and then leaned across the table. “What are these books you’ve read about pyramids? Where did you get them?”
He watched her eyes flick upwards, and knew she was sifting through the catalogue of information her brain housed. “Human Library,” he had called her when he had first discovered her talent for memorization. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “They were brought in when I was working for the National Archives, five years ago now. They were old, old books, almost falling apart, and they were written about even older books that are lost now, I suppose. They referenced all sorts of sources that were never located, but-“ she stopped, suspicion crossing her features again when she saw Ed’s frown. “Are you sure you’re not making fun of me?”
“No,” he told her seriously. “I’m not. I’m very interested. What would I have to do to see these books?”
She tapped a finger to her lips. “Well, you’d have to find them first. I never knew where they were finally stored, either. And, Ed, I’m not copying them out for you unless you’re paying me,” she added.
Ed shrugged. “It’s not that important, really,” he admitted, “I’m just curious. I’ll see if I can find them, maybe the General will be able to help me out,” he mused. He picked up his coffee again, which had cooled to lukewarm, and leaned back from the table.
Ed knew he looked a wreck. He knew Winry would yell at him as soon as she opened the door. He was dirty, sweaty, disheveled, and very, very not in the hotel room where he was supposed to be. The doorman eyed him suspiciously when he entered the building, but did not turn him away, and he trudged up the stairs to their room on the eighth floor. The hotel had an elevator, but he was trying to delay facing the unpleasant scene he knew must be waiting for him inside.
Thankfully, it was his brother, and not Winry, who opened the door for him.
He grinned sheepishly. “Hi Al, sorry, I lost my key,” he said, his explanation for why he was knocking on the door to his own room.
Al raised his eyebrows at his brother’s appearance. “What happened to you?”
Ed just shrugged, taking off his coat and hanging it by the door, straightening his shirt collar and re-tying his hair, making himself a shade more presentable. “How was the exam, Al?” he asked instead.
“Oh, Ed, Al was amazing,” Winry called from the bedroom. “And there was this other alchemist there who-“ she stopped in the doorway. “What have you been doing?” she demanded, hands on her hips. “I was so not surprised when we came back and you weren’t here. I knew you couldn’t resist poking around the city, but what the heck did you get into to make you come back like that?”
Ed looked off to the side. “Well, I ran into Scheizka, and I took her out for coffee to prove that I wasn’t a ghost,” he began.
Winry raised her eyebrows. “That part I know, there was a phone message from her downstairs when we got back,” she said, waiting for the rest of the story.
“Well, I sort of got in a fight,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.
“You did what?” Winry shrieked.
“Brother!” Al said at the same time. “You said you wouldn’t get into any trouble!” he reminded him.
“I didn’t,” Ed protested, “It came to me, I swear! All I wanted to do was walk around the city, honest!”
Winry swatted him on the back of his head. “Go get cleaned up,” she instructed, pointing to the shower. “General Mustang reserved a private room for us here in the hotel, and General Hawkeye and Lieutenant Havoc are coming over for dinner. I invited Scheizka but she said she had too much work to finish tonight, but tomorrow’s a holiday and she’s meeting up with us then.”
Ed raised his eyebrows, surprised she didn’t have more questions for him. “What about Gracia and Elysia?” he asked then.
“We’re having dinner with them the day after,” she said, hands on her hips. “Ed, shower, now!”
He took a long look at his brother, telling him in his mind that although he didn’t mind Winry not pressing him for details, he had a lot to relay to him later on. Al nodded once, slowly, seeming to catch on, and Ed turned to fetch some clean clothes from his suitcase for after his shower.
Lieutenant Colonel Anders squinted down at the police report. “This says there were five people involved, yet I see only three here.” He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze scanning the police headquarters. “Where, might I ask, are the other two?”
One of the officers coughed. “The one who escaped, we know him only as Red, is the reason we got the military involved. One of the witnesses said he was seen earlier wearing a military uniform, and the three we have in custody here are all known terrorists. We have reason to believe he was passing information to them.”
Anders nodded slowly. “That seems likely.” He turned to the subordinates he had brought with him. “Transfer these men to military custody,” he directed, then glanced at the report again. “And the fifth person? Where is he, he seems to have done the most damage here.”
“Ah, sir, we couldn’t really hold him, seeing how we determined he hadn’t committed any crimes…”
The Lieutenant Colonels eyes flashed. “You couldn’t hold him? You didn’t think that being targeted by an anti-military terrorist group was any reason to think he might have any information for us?” He gazed steadily at the embarrassed policemen. “He was targeted, deliberately, that much is clear from the report. Who was he? Investigations department needs to contact him.”
The chief of police cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sir, we determined him to simply be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was very open with us, but seemed to have nothing valuable to add.”
“You let the military be the judge of that!” Anders snapped. “Who was he?”
“Short little guy, said he was an alchemist, but you never know,” one of the other officers answered helpfully. “People make all sorts of claims. Never saw him do any alchemy, though.”
“What was his name, officer?” Anders pressed.
“Oh, he said his name was Edward Heiderich,” the other man offered.
“Edward Heiderich, eh,” mused the Lieutenant Colonel. “Very well, then, I’ll give his name to investigations, I’ve put one of my best men in charge recently and he’s got quite a file on Mr. Heiderich. I’ll have to put my people in charge of tracking him down, since your people have been so incompetent.” He glanced down at the report once more. “Suspect named only as ‘Red’ was wearing a military uniform,” he read. “No one saw the markings? No one knows what rank? Given me a lot to work with, gentlemen,” he said sarcastically. With that, the man spun sharply, exiting the headquarters with his subordinates following closely behind.
When the chief of police returned to his office, two of the policemen exchanged glances. “Well,” said the one man. “That was a surprise.”
“What was?” the other asked, puzzled.
“It seems the guy was telling the truth, since the Lieutenant Colonel seemed to know who he was.”
The other man raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked, still confused.
“Oh, come on,” the man pressed. “You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking it too.”
“Thinking what?”
“Edward Heiderich? Short, blond alchemist-“
“You said you didn’t think he really was an alchemist.”
“I said no one saw him use any alchemy.”
The two men stood in silence for a moment. “I never met the Fullmetal Alchemist in person,” the second man said eventually, finally understanding what the first man was getting at. “I wouldn’t recognize him even if it had been him. You?”
The officer shrugged. “Never met him either. Heard all the rumors of course, but that’s all they are. After all, how can one person be in two places at once? First he’s spotted in Central, then the next day he’s spotted with the Flame Alchemist in East City. Then he’s rumored to be living in a small town up north, and then we hear that he’s seen on a train heading west. They’re just rumors-“ he stopped when he saw his companions sudden concern. “What now?” he asked.
“The Lieutenant Colonel,” he said. “Did you happen to see? He took the entire police report with him. Did we even make any copies yet?”
Ed stepped out of the bathroom, one towel around his waist and rubbing another over his hair, which he then shook violently, spaying the room and its occupant with shampoo-scented droplets.
“Brother!” Al protested, wiping a hand across the water that flecked his face.
Ed just snickered in response, tossing the towel on the bed and reaching for his brush, dragging it through his now clean hair.
Al sat down on the bed opposite him, and, never having seen Ed undressed before, let himself stare. He saw the metal arm Ed had told him he made himself, saw how brittle it looked, and how the bolts dug into his skin, leaving the area around it red and raw. He saw the scar on his brother’s chest, where he had dreamed (remembered?) him being stabbed through with a spear. He saw the hard muscles of his abdomen and flesh shoulder, and wondered where the soft little boy he remembered was.
Don’t be stupid, Al, he told himself firmly. He grew up. You did too. You don’t look the way he remembers you either.
There were parallel scars that wrapped around his side, too, as if something with huge claws had swiped at him, and then there was the harness of his wooden leg winding around his thigh and hips.
“Al,” his brother said gently, continuing to drag the brush through his hair, “You’re staring.”
With a start, Al realized he definitely was, and looked away, flustered. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never really seen your- your prosthetics.”
“Oh,” Ed said, sounding surprised, and looked down at himself. Sorry, he wanted to say. Sorry I’m not perfect, but that was an old conversation, one he had had many times before. “I guess they do look pretty bad,” he said, and to Al’s surprise he laughed, standing up and reaching for a pair of shorts to exchange for the towel he had been wearing. Then he limped over to Al and sat next to him. He looked at him and shrugged. “You can look, if you want,” he said. “You’re my brother, I don’t have anything to hide from you.”
Al reached across him and took the brush out of his hand, and shifted on the bed so he was sitting behind him.
Ed twisted around to face him. “What are you doing?” he asked, confused.
He took his shoulders and turned him back to facing away, and Ed felt the brush pull through his wet hair again.
“Hey!” he protested, snatching his long hair away. “I can do my own hair, you know!”
Al shrugged. “I know, but I want to. I thought you said I always used to do this for you,” he said, carefully picking out the tangles before running the brush through the section again.
Ed sighed. “You did,” he said quietly. “And I liked it. I like it now,” he added. Now, like before, Al seemed to have a knack for taming his hair instantly, where it took Ed a significant amount of time and a certain amount of consideration he was not always willing to put forth. He could feel Al separating his hair into equal sections, and put his hand back to feel what his brother was doing. “I thought you don’t know how to braid?” he asked, still puzzled.
“Winry showed me the other night.”
“Winry, can you teach me to braid?” It had been an innocent sounding question asked by a twelve year old, and Al tried to keep his voice from quivering when he asked it. He knew, (there were so many things he didn’t know, but this was one he did) he knew she would be upset, no matter what tone of voice he used, no matter how he phrased the question, but he asked it anyway.
She put down her screwdriver but did not look up. “Why?” she asked, her voice flat, her hair hanging down, blocking her expression.
“My hair’s getting long,” he whispered.
“Cut it off,” she suggested harshly, picking up another tool and focusing pointedly on the mechanism in the palm of her hand.
“I-“
She pressed her hands flat on the workbench, her head still down, her shoulders hunched. “You aren’t him, Al,” she said, finally turning to look at him. “You’re not your brother, you never will be, even if you wear his clothes, read his books, carry his suitcase, grow your hair out-“
“I know,” he interrupted. “I know I’m not Ed, you remind me of that every time you look at me! That doesn’t mean I can’t braid my hair. Brother did it because it got in his face, and it’s getting in my face, and if you wont show me how I’ll just ask someone else-“
“Don’t,” she said roughly. “Please. I can’t stand it if you look any more like him than you already do.”
Ed raised his eyebrows, even though his brother couldn’t see him from behind, and tried to picture Al and Winry having hair-braiding lessons after he had finally fallen asleep. “Oh,” he said finally. When Al finished, Ed scooted back on the bed, tucking his leg up under himself and facing his brother. “You know, I think I’ll sleep out in the other room tonight. You and Winry can share the bed in here,” he offered.
Al looked away. “I don’t care,” he said, but his voice was toneless. “Whatever you want to do.”
Edward looked down at his lap, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “I want things to work out between the two of you,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to come between you.”
“You’ve always been between us,” Al countered, still looking away. There was no malice in his voice, only resignation. “Even when you were worlds away.”
“I’m sorry, Al,” Ed said, almost desperately, but Al stopped him.
“Don’t be sorry,” Al said firmly. “You weren’t even here.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Ed whispered, and Al sighed, leaning his forehead into his brother’s.
“That was the past,” he murmured. “You’re here now, and I’m glad.”
They sat like that for several minutes, in the center of the hotel bed, heads pressed together and eyes closed, before Al spoke again. “You said you got in a fight,” Al said quietly, knowing that Winry was in the other room of their suite. “Are you all right? Did you get hurt?”
Ed picked his head up, standing up and shaking out the clean clothes he had set out for himself: the maroon shirt and black pants Roy had bought for him in East City. “Nah, I just got knocked around a bit, but I’m okay. I was mostly just dirty from being on the ground.” He saw his brother’s concerned expression, and added, “I can still hold my own in a fight, even if I’m not as good as I was,” he assured him. He had already stepped into the pants and was putting on the shirt, reaching up to pull his long braid of hair out of the collar before buttoning it up.
Al waited, and after a moment, his brother continued, in the same quiet tone.
“I didn’t go looking for trouble, Al, I swear to you I didn’t,” he said, although as he spoke the words he thought that perhaps flipping off the red haired stranger might have been a bit cocky and less than well thought out. “Not a lot of trouble, anyway,” he amended. “It’s just that there was this guy who was bothering Sheizka when I ran into her, and I told him to bugger off and he did. She seemed really upset about him, and then after I said goodbye to her I ran into him again, only he was with his friends.” He should have walked right past them, he admitted to himself, instead of catching their attention, especially since the red-haired man seemed to be the ringleader and thus needed to defend his pride. Ed shrugged with feigned innocence, and said, “I don’t know, I guess I pissed him off somehow-“ Al raised and eyebrow at that, echoing somehow? with just his eyes- “and then, well, you see, I had no choice but to fight back-“
“You did start the fight! Brother!” Al kept his voice quiet, but his concern and irritation were growing.
Ed shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “They were doing something secret, something they didn’t want anyone to see, when I ran into them. They were exchanging a package, and while they were coming after me, one of them tried to take off with the package, and then they forgot about me and went after him.” He shrugged. “Then the police showed up. That’s all that happened, it wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugged again, trying to convince his brother of this. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something would have happened anyway, even if I hadn’t been there.” He finished buttoning his shirt one-handed, and noticed his brother still staring at the metal hand that remained at his side, no good for working buttons, and guessed what he was thinking. “Al, don’t be so worried. It’s not the first mess I’ve walked into, I just have that kind of luck, you know, and I always come out okay.”
“You need to let Winry make you new automail,” Al said abruptly. “You’re right, you do have that kind of luck. You spend one day in Central and look what happens. I’m worried about you.”
Ed just shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’m your big brother, I can take care of myself. And Winry is making new automail for me, I’ve seen her plans for it, haven’t you?” He bundled up his dirty clothes and tossed them into the corner of the hotel room. “Of course, I can’t wait to get it, but I don’t want to nag her about it. She has to finish her orders for her customers too, or she’s going to lose their business, and she’s already taking time away from her work to spend with Kaiya.” He looked at his brother, who seemed to be ready to protest. “You know anything about automail surgery?” he asked softly.
Al nodded, reciting what he had been told. “I know it’s painful, I know you never screamed, I know I sat outside your door until it was over.”
“I tried not to scream because I didn’t want you to worry, Al,” he said then. “It’s okay if you don’t remember,” he added, seeing his brother’s expression. “You were still there for me, even if you don’t remember it.” You were the only one who could share my guilt.
Al smiled sadly. Sometimes he really could believe his brother; that it really was all right that his memories were gone, but sometimes. like now, he wished beyond wishing that he could have them back. “I know you learned to move with it after only one year,” he continued, trying not to betray his longing, “because you’re a prodigy at everything, brother.”
Ed groaned. “Ugh, not everything, Al,” he contradicted.
Al gave him a quizzical expression. “Oh yeah? What’s something that exists in this world that you don’t have an immediate and complete understanding of? Cause I can’t come up with anything. You’re a genius through and through, and you know it.”
“Um, girls?” Ed suggested, and cringed when Al shot him a dark look.
“Well that’s for damn sure,” Al muttered, standing up as if to leave the room.
“Wait,” Ed said, and Al thought at first he was going to utter some inane apology for his relationship- because whatever Ed said about it just being one night, it was clear to Al it was more than that- with Winry, but he didn’t. “There’s something I need to tell you about what happened today.”
“What is it?”
Ed lowered his voice, and Al moved away from the doorway. “Two things, actually. One, I kind of got arrested-“
“What?”
“Shhh,” Ed reminded him. “They let me go. It was clear that I didn’t start the fight. But I’d say the entire police station at Central’s seen me. If anyone recognized me, no one said anything, and I left. So whenever you’re ready to explain to me exactly how bad it would be if the military knew I was alive, I’m all ears.”
“The military and the police are two different entities now, brother,” Al told him, but the same worry had clouded his expression once again. “They’re not related anymore.”
“Yeah, but they called the military investigators, because the guy who attacked me, the one who was bothering Scheizka? He was wearing a uniform.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the other thing, Brother?”
“Their package tore open. There were red stones inside.”
Chapter Four, Part Two
Note1: part two nearly completed
Note2: no, it does not include that sex scene I was daydreaming about
Chapter: # 4, Secrets and Celebration, Part One
Previous: 1, I, 2, 3, II
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for the entire series.
Chapter Summary: Al returns to Central for the annual State Alchemist examinations and Ed gets to see some old friends, and everyone has something to hide… lots of plot, lots of worms…
Chapter Four: Secrets and Celebration
Winry hadn’t looked at the automail catalogue she had spread over her lap since she opened it. She was watching Al watch Ed sleep.
Al was sitting sideways with his feet up on the train seat with Kaiya curled against his chest, but his gaze was focused entirely on his brother. At first glance it would seem that Ed slept a lot, but Winry knew the truth: in fact Ed slept very little, and at odd hours. The three of them had been up very late the night before, talking and otherwise procrastinating and then even later beginning to pack, and she had a feeling that Ed had remained awake several hours even after she and Al had gone to bed. He was sleeping now, though, and had been for most of the train ride, curled in on himself in the opposite corner of the compartment from his brother, who watched him, entranced.
Al supposed his older brother would be unrecognizable to a stranger. What did strangers know of Ed? They knew him as a wild legend, the boy from the stories, from the Amestris of another era, now, the boy with the blonde braid and the red coat. Before they had left for the station in Altenburg, Winry had pinned his brother’s golden hair up on his head (like a girl’s, came Ed’s snarling protest, but even Ed could not argue with the results) and Al had placed the black fedora over top, effectively (he hoped) disguising him from curious onlookers.
Al wasn’t sure if his brother truly understood how important it was that he remain anonymous. The Ed he remembered had been a glutton for attention, and this newer, older, foreign Ed seemed content to just exist in the back ground, but Al couldn’t tell if this was a true change in character or just an attempt to placate his younger brother’s insistences. To be fair, Al had to admit that he hadn’t really given his brother all the reasons his existence had to remain secret.
He knew about his brother’s guilt, oh, did he ever know about it. Even as children, Ed had always held himself responsible for anything that happened to Al, even things that all children did, like scraping a knee or skinning a knuckle. Ed had always felt that it was his job to look out for him, and if anything at all happened to Al, then it was an indication that he was not doing his job as an older brother. This was years ago, but until recently these had been the only memories Al had of his brother, and they were perfectly clear in his mind.
His brother’s guilt was legendary. Everyone who had been close to Ed had told him about it. Izumi had told him how he had insisted that their failed transmutation had been his fault entirely, even though the memories of it had been fresh in Al’s ten-year-old mind and Al knew it had been something they had planned together. Winry and Pinako had told him how Ed had not allowed himself to cry out during the many painful surgeries it took to attach his automail, because he felt that his physical pain was nothing compared to what he had put his younger brother through. In those days, in the days that Al had been ten years old for the second time in his life, he had longed to tell his brother that it wasn’t his fault. He had longed to smack him on the back of his head, to yell at him, hands on his hips, they way their mother used to, to repeat the truth enough times that Ed accepted it: that the transmutation had been both of their doings, and that what had happened to Al was no fault of Ed’s. But Ed had not been there, and Al had grown up with non-memories of Edward’s guilt.
He didn’t know if Ed knew that the new government had blamed him entirely for the disappearance of an entire military unit in Lior. He didn’t know if this was something General Mustang had told him about while Al had been in Germany or not, but he thought it was unlikely. It had been, to Al’s vehement protests, General Mustang himself who had allowed the blame to be placed on his brother, for more than just the Lior massacre. Fullmetal is no longer part of this world, the General had told him. Wherever he is, the military cannot touch him. Let the blame go to him, rather than those who have lives yet to be lived.
Al had been incensed, screaming and throwing things around Mustang’s office, throwing a tantrum of true Elric proportions, he would have made his brother proud, several members of Mustang’s crew had noted, watching him slam the door and storm out of the building, throwing his watch on the ground outside the door to the headquarters. It had been Fuery who had picked up the watch, dusted it off, and returned it to Al when he had cooled down enough to set foot back on military property again. Trust him, Al, the man had said, quietly, sincerely. Your brother trusted him, you’ve got to trust him too.
In those days Al found it hard to believe that his brother had trusted anyone, let alone anyone as blatantly manipulative as Roy Mustang. Now, as he watched Ed sleep, he wondered again if Ed knew that most of the country considered him a murderer of thousands. He wondered if Ed knew that most of the country had bought Mustang’s explanations, accepted them as truth just like they accepted the new leadership, allowing Amestris to become a very different place from the one Ed had disappeared from so many years ago.
He didn’t want to lie to his brother; he didn’t want to hide things from him and he knew that Ed could tell there were things Al wasn’t telling him, but he couldn’t bring himself to dump anything else on his conscience. It was, after all, the younger brother’s job to look out for the older one when no one was looking.
Suddenly Ed startled awake, sitting up abruptly, his eyes wide with terror and his heart racing. He gave a strangled yelp, and Winry was at his side in an instant, her automail catalogue fluttering to the floor, forgotten.
“Ed,” she said, kneeling in front of him, taking his hands in her own. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, her voice thick with concern. “What happened, what’s the matter?”
His gaze was slowly focusing on her, his eyes returning to a normal size as he took in the moving train compartment. He jerked his hands out of her grip. “Nothing,” he muttered, “I’m fine.”
She rose from where she was kneeling, coming to sit beside him on the train bench. “It’s not nothing,” she said, quietly, insistently. “What happened?”
He turned to face her, annoyance sliding off his words. “I said nothing, didn’t I?” he snapped, rubbing at his eyes with his hand and letting himself sit back against the wall of the compartment. “I’m fine, leave me alone.” He pressed his hand to his chest, as if feeling for the beating of his heart, and inched away from her, closer to the wall of the compartment.
“Was it a nightmare?” Al asked quietly, not moving from his seat.
Ed nodded, once, and said nothing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Winry asked gently.
“No,” said both brothers in unison, their eyes meeting across the compartment, and Al watched his brother press his lips together grimly.
Just then the train began to screech to a halt. They were not in Central yet, but the stop signified that they were coming close. At the change in movement Kaiya stirred in Al’s arms, screwing her face up and beginning to howl. “Hey!” he protested, trying to rock her back and forth the way Winry did, attempting to imitate the movement of the train. “Hey, Kaiya, don’t cry, come on, do you want your bottle?” Her cry was piercing, and Al looked up desperately at his brother and Winry, his eyes clearly saying what should I do?
Winry immediately stood up to retrieve the bag of baby paraphernalia from the overhead compartment, reaching into the side pocket and thrusting the pacifier at Al. “Here, give her this,” she directed, but Kaiya refused it, managing to both close her lips against the plastic nipple and continue to cry.
“She doesn’t want it,” Al said, and Winry snatched it from him, trying to coax it into the baby’s mouth.
Winry began to dig in the bag for the bottle, already filled with milk and sealed in a plastic bag.
“If she doesn’t want the pacifier she isn’t going to want her bottle either,” Al argued, and Winry glared at him.
“Maybe she’s hungry,” she said, irritated, holding up the pacifier. “If I was hungry and someone gave me this instead, I’d be angry too.” She took her daughter from Al’s arms and stood in the middle of the compartment, trying to rock her while the train stood stopped at the station and the people exiting the train glared at them as they passed their seats. “Okay, baby, come on, don’t cry,” she pleaded, “have some milk-“
“Maybe she doesn’t like milk,” Ed put in, and both Al and Winry glared at him, but Kaiya was refusing the bottle as well.
“Oh, so now you’re the shining example of a perfect parent?” Winry demanded, rocking the squalling baby up and down and frustration emanating from her being.
Ed stood, his expression still irritated. “Maybe she’s just tired of sitting on this stuffy train,” he snapped back, holding his arms out to take her.
Winry looked at him hard, biting back a nasty retort, but placed the baby in his arms. Just then the train lurched to a start again, and they all three jerked backward at the movement, Ed slamming down into his seat again and Al and Winry into each other.
When the train was moving along steadily and all three of them were seated in their original places, Kaiya’s howl had subsided to a mere whimper and Ed was singing something under his breath. Neither Al nor Winry could catch an inkling of the tune, because when Ed sang it was more of a chant than a melody anyway, but the words, or what they could hear of them, were unfamiliar. “What’s that, Ed?” Winry asked curiously.
“Something Al taught me,” he said distractedly, picking up the song again as soon as he spoke, eyes focused entirely on the baby.
When Winry looked at Al questioningly, he gave her an odd look. “A different Al,” he told her, and both brothers refused to elaborate further.
Aside from the train station, it had been ten years since he had seen Central, and his eyes traveled from one change to the next, probably making him look like a tourist, he thought with amusement. Let them think he was a tourist, he didn’t care. No one would pick him out as the Fullmetal Alchemist, that was for sure. Blond braid? He touched the back of his hair, under the hat: nope. Red coat? He shoved his hand into the pocket of his brown coat from Germany (which Al had originally wanted to wear, even though it was really too small for him) and tried to picture his old red one in his room in Germany. Nope, no red coat here. Automail? He looked down at his dragging left foot. Sadly, no, although soon that would be remedied, he hoped. This was certainly not the Fullmetal Alchemist returned from the dead.
“Don’t get into any trouble, Brother”, Al had chided him as he stood in front of the mirror tying back his hair. Ed had protested, but Al had just smiled sweetly and insisted, “I know you. Don’t try to pretend it could never happen.”
“Well,” Ed had grumbled, “you could ensure I won’t be up to no good by just letting me come see you at the certification exam. I said I wanted to see your alchemy, and besides, by the way you describe it it sounds like it’s more of a chance for you to show off than to actually be evaluated. You said yourself there’s going to be tons of people there, I’ll just blend into the crowd.”
“Brother,” Al had said wearily, “I have never known you to blend into a crowd. It’s just not a good idea; you know it’s not a good idea, think of who’s going to be there! Think of what could happen if someone recognizes you!” Al had said, exasperated, having repeated this sentiment several times over.
“And what, exactly, could happen if someone recognizes me, Al?”
“You could get arrested, and I’d never see you again,” Al had said seriously.
Ed had just shrugged, not taking Al’s statement as truth. “Nah, I’d escape, and be back at home with you in no time,” he had assured his brother, but Al had not laughed, and Ed had changed his tone. “All right, I’m not coming,” he had said, serious this time. “You told me not to come and I’m respecting that, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life hiding, either!”
Al had given a frustrated sigh, turning away from the mirror to face him. “I know,” he had said quietly. “But we’re in the middle of Central, of all places. I’m not saying you have to hide inside the whole time we’re here, I’m just saying you should stay away from the military, and be discreet- hey!” he had cried then, as Winry ruffled her hand through his bangs.
Ed smirked to himself, rounding the corner. Yep, discreet was definitely a word that was often used to describe him, he thought, the sarcasm just dripping from his mind. He didn’t have any particular destination; he was just enjoying the bustle of the city streets. Altenburg was a small town, but it wasn’t home to him and so he felt no affinity for the place. Of course, he missed Rizembool, but more often than he expected to he felt himself missing the crowded streets of Munich as well.
He shook his head. That couldn’t be right. It was Alphonse he missed, Alphonse had been the only good thing he had come upon in that world; Alphonse who was not his brother at all, who was a different person entirely, who had become his family and his friend and his lover all at once in that foreign place.
It was still hard to believe that every morning that he woke up, he would wake up here, at home. He would never stop at the little café down the street from his and Alphonse’s apartment for an early morning bite to eat before locking himself in the lab. He would never sit in his favorite corner of the Munich library surrounded by books that had become familiar to him, never wave to the kind librarian lady on his way out. He would never feel out of sorts after walking past the run-down house that he and his father had shared when they first arrived in Germany. In fact, according to his brother, the lab that he had spent the better part of two years in didn’t even exist; it had exploded perhaps even the very second he arrived back in Amestris.
“Come on, I just want to talk to you,” said one of the voices behind him. The sidewalks were less crowded now, and Ed thought there were maybe two people behind him now, a man and a woman.
“Go away, I said,” said the woman’s voice, and it sounded familiar to him but at first he could not place it.
“Come on, just consider what I said. It’s just some obscure information. No one will know if you give it to me or not.” came the man’s wheedling tone. “Hey. How come you’re not answering me? Hey. Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?”
Ed spun around, and recognized the woman at once, it was Winry’s friend, the bookworm. “Leave her alone,” he snapped, glaring at the man through narrowed eyes.
“Hey buddy,” the man said, voice dripping with condescension, “If she’s not gonna talk to me, she sure as hell wont talk to a shrimp like you.” Ed felt his blood boil. Did this jerk have any idea who he was dealing with? He had grown-
“Ed!” Sheizka squeaked in surprise.
“You know this guy?” the man asked incredulously, and Ed felt his heart jump. The man was wearing a military uniform.
Sheizka, however, remained speechless.
“Yes,” Ed said boldly, his voice more cocky than he actually felt. “Now get lost. The lady is clearly not interested in you.”
A vein seemed to bulge in the man’s neck, and his face reddened to match his hair, but then he relaxed and shrugged, rolling his eyes. He brushed an invisible piece of lint off his uniform, saying finally, “Fine, I don’t have time for this anyways,” and turned on his heel to walk the opposite direction.
The two stood staring at each other for a moment, and then Ed rubbed the back of his head. “So, long time no see, eh?”
Sheizka took this opportunity to faint, and he caught her awkwardly. Well, at least his afternoon wouldn’t be boring.
Ed leaned against the back of the uncomfortable café chair, tapping his fingers idly on the side of his coffee mug and observing Sheizka with an amused expression, certain that he could just about see the little alien spacecrafts floating around her head and wondering what she would conclude if she ever saw an actual airplane flying through the sky.
“Alien technology,” she said, her hands pressed together and her eyes shining behind her thick glasses, “must be incredible, to be able to build something like that, that can fly around in outer space. Imagine how much knowledge they have, imagine what their books must be like! Did you know,” she said, leaning forward, “that aliens built the pyramids?”
Ed just laughed. “I have heard that,” he admitted, at first brushing the idea off. It was possible, anything, he had learned, was possible, but aliens and pyramids did not pertain to his search for a way to open the gate, so- “Wait a minute!” he said, sitting bolt upright. The pyramids. The geometric stone tombs, huge, the burial places for rulers of an ancient culture long gone from a world in another universe! “Sheizka!” he hissed. “What are you talking about? What pyramids?”
She smiled conspiratorially. “I figured you would know about the pyramids,” she said, almost slyly. “You’ve always believed in things no one else did.”
He shook his head, his coffee mug forgotten. “No, no,” he insisted. “I don’t know anything about the pyramids, how could I possibly- what are you talking about? I’ve never read anything about pyramids, not in this world.” He spoke the last part of his sentence without thinking, and immediately regretted it. He had assured Sheizka that he was not a ghost; that he had not returned from the dead, he had merely been away for a long while. He had not told her that “away” meant he was living in another dimension, and he did not understand what the ancient history of that world was doing mixed up with this young woman’s left-field alien theories.
“Then you haven’t been reading the right books,” she told him, and then glanced up suspiciously. “Unless you’re just making fun of me?” she added uncertainly, placing her hands palms down on the table. “Everyone always does this to me, they see how long they can get me talking about stuff they think is utter nonsense, just so they can tease me about it later-“
Ed was shaking his head, trying to reassure her. “I’m not making fun of you,” he insisted, and then leaned across the table. “What are these books you’ve read about pyramids? Where did you get them?”
He watched her eyes flick upwards, and knew she was sifting through the catalogue of information her brain housed. “Human Library,” he had called her when he had first discovered her talent for memorization. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “They were brought in when I was working for the National Archives, five years ago now. They were old, old books, almost falling apart, and they were written about even older books that are lost now, I suppose. They referenced all sorts of sources that were never located, but-“ she stopped, suspicion crossing her features again when she saw Ed’s frown. “Are you sure you’re not making fun of me?”
“No,” he told her seriously. “I’m not. I’m very interested. What would I have to do to see these books?”
She tapped a finger to her lips. “Well, you’d have to find them first. I never knew where they were finally stored, either. And, Ed, I’m not copying them out for you unless you’re paying me,” she added.
Ed shrugged. “It’s not that important, really,” he admitted, “I’m just curious. I’ll see if I can find them, maybe the General will be able to help me out,” he mused. He picked up his coffee again, which had cooled to lukewarm, and leaned back from the table.
Ed knew he looked a wreck. He knew Winry would yell at him as soon as she opened the door. He was dirty, sweaty, disheveled, and very, very not in the hotel room where he was supposed to be. The doorman eyed him suspiciously when he entered the building, but did not turn him away, and he trudged up the stairs to their room on the eighth floor. The hotel had an elevator, but he was trying to delay facing the unpleasant scene he knew must be waiting for him inside.
Thankfully, it was his brother, and not Winry, who opened the door for him.
He grinned sheepishly. “Hi Al, sorry, I lost my key,” he said, his explanation for why he was knocking on the door to his own room.
Al raised his eyebrows at his brother’s appearance. “What happened to you?”
Ed just shrugged, taking off his coat and hanging it by the door, straightening his shirt collar and re-tying his hair, making himself a shade more presentable. “How was the exam, Al?” he asked instead.
“Oh, Ed, Al was amazing,” Winry called from the bedroom. “And there was this other alchemist there who-“ she stopped in the doorway. “What have you been doing?” she demanded, hands on her hips. “I was so not surprised when we came back and you weren’t here. I knew you couldn’t resist poking around the city, but what the heck did you get into to make you come back like that?”
Ed looked off to the side. “Well, I ran into Scheizka, and I took her out for coffee to prove that I wasn’t a ghost,” he began.
Winry raised her eyebrows. “That part I know, there was a phone message from her downstairs when we got back,” she said, waiting for the rest of the story.
“Well, I sort of got in a fight,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.
“You did what?” Winry shrieked.
“Brother!” Al said at the same time. “You said you wouldn’t get into any trouble!” he reminded him.
“I didn’t,” Ed protested, “It came to me, I swear! All I wanted to do was walk around the city, honest!”
Winry swatted him on the back of his head. “Go get cleaned up,” she instructed, pointing to the shower. “General Mustang reserved a private room for us here in the hotel, and General Hawkeye and Lieutenant Havoc are coming over for dinner. I invited Scheizka but she said she had too much work to finish tonight, but tomorrow’s a holiday and she’s meeting up with us then.”
Ed raised his eyebrows, surprised she didn’t have more questions for him. “What about Gracia and Elysia?” he asked then.
“We’re having dinner with them the day after,” she said, hands on her hips. “Ed, shower, now!”
He took a long look at his brother, telling him in his mind that although he didn’t mind Winry not pressing him for details, he had a lot to relay to him later on. Al nodded once, slowly, seeming to catch on, and Ed turned to fetch some clean clothes from his suitcase for after his shower.
Lieutenant Colonel Anders squinted down at the police report. “This says there were five people involved, yet I see only three here.” He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze scanning the police headquarters. “Where, might I ask, are the other two?”
One of the officers coughed. “The one who escaped, we know him only as Red, is the reason we got the military involved. One of the witnesses said he was seen earlier wearing a military uniform, and the three we have in custody here are all known terrorists. We have reason to believe he was passing information to them.”
Anders nodded slowly. “That seems likely.” He turned to the subordinates he had brought with him. “Transfer these men to military custody,” he directed, then glanced at the report again. “And the fifth person? Where is he, he seems to have done the most damage here.”
“Ah, sir, we couldn’t really hold him, seeing how we determined he hadn’t committed any crimes…”
The Lieutenant Colonels eyes flashed. “You couldn’t hold him? You didn’t think that being targeted by an anti-military terrorist group was any reason to think he might have any information for us?” He gazed steadily at the embarrassed policemen. “He was targeted, deliberately, that much is clear from the report. Who was he? Investigations department needs to contact him.”
The chief of police cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sir, we determined him to simply be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was very open with us, but seemed to have nothing valuable to add.”
“You let the military be the judge of that!” Anders snapped. “Who was he?”
“Short little guy, said he was an alchemist, but you never know,” one of the other officers answered helpfully. “People make all sorts of claims. Never saw him do any alchemy, though.”
“What was his name, officer?” Anders pressed.
“Oh, he said his name was Edward Heiderich,” the other man offered.
“Edward Heiderich, eh,” mused the Lieutenant Colonel. “Very well, then, I’ll give his name to investigations, I’ve put one of my best men in charge recently and he’s got quite a file on Mr. Heiderich. I’ll have to put my people in charge of tracking him down, since your people have been so incompetent.” He glanced down at the report once more. “Suspect named only as ‘Red’ was wearing a military uniform,” he read. “No one saw the markings? No one knows what rank? Given me a lot to work with, gentlemen,” he said sarcastically. With that, the man spun sharply, exiting the headquarters with his subordinates following closely behind.
When the chief of police returned to his office, two of the policemen exchanged glances. “Well,” said the one man. “That was a surprise.”
“What was?” the other asked, puzzled.
“It seems the guy was telling the truth, since the Lieutenant Colonel seemed to know who he was.”
The other man raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked, still confused.
“Oh, come on,” the man pressed. “You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking it too.”
“Thinking what?”
“Edward Heiderich? Short, blond alchemist-“
“You said you didn’t think he really was an alchemist.”
“I said no one saw him use any alchemy.”
The two men stood in silence for a moment. “I never met the Fullmetal Alchemist in person,” the second man said eventually, finally understanding what the first man was getting at. “I wouldn’t recognize him even if it had been him. You?”
The officer shrugged. “Never met him either. Heard all the rumors of course, but that’s all they are. After all, how can one person be in two places at once? First he’s spotted in Central, then the next day he’s spotted with the Flame Alchemist in East City. Then he’s rumored to be living in a small town up north, and then we hear that he’s seen on a train heading west. They’re just rumors-“ he stopped when he saw his companions sudden concern. “What now?” he asked.
“The Lieutenant Colonel,” he said. “Did you happen to see? He took the entire police report with him. Did we even make any copies yet?”
Ed stepped out of the bathroom, one towel around his waist and rubbing another over his hair, which he then shook violently, spaying the room and its occupant with shampoo-scented droplets.
“Brother!” Al protested, wiping a hand across the water that flecked his face.
Ed just snickered in response, tossing the towel on the bed and reaching for his brush, dragging it through his now clean hair.
Al sat down on the bed opposite him, and, never having seen Ed undressed before, let himself stare. He saw the metal arm Ed had told him he made himself, saw how brittle it looked, and how the bolts dug into his skin, leaving the area around it red and raw. He saw the scar on his brother’s chest, where he had dreamed (remembered?) him being stabbed through with a spear. He saw the hard muscles of his abdomen and flesh shoulder, and wondered where the soft little boy he remembered was.
Don’t be stupid, Al, he told himself firmly. He grew up. You did too. You don’t look the way he remembers you either.
There were parallel scars that wrapped around his side, too, as if something with huge claws had swiped at him, and then there was the harness of his wooden leg winding around his thigh and hips.
“Al,” his brother said gently, continuing to drag the brush through his hair, “You’re staring.”
With a start, Al realized he definitely was, and looked away, flustered. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never really seen your- your prosthetics.”
“Oh,” Ed said, sounding surprised, and looked down at himself. Sorry, he wanted to say. Sorry I’m not perfect, but that was an old conversation, one he had had many times before. “I guess they do look pretty bad,” he said, and to Al’s surprise he laughed, standing up and reaching for a pair of shorts to exchange for the towel he had been wearing. Then he limped over to Al and sat next to him. He looked at him and shrugged. “You can look, if you want,” he said. “You’re my brother, I don’t have anything to hide from you.”
Al reached across him and took the brush out of his hand, and shifted on the bed so he was sitting behind him.
Ed twisted around to face him. “What are you doing?” he asked, confused.
He took his shoulders and turned him back to facing away, and Ed felt the brush pull through his wet hair again.
“Hey!” he protested, snatching his long hair away. “I can do my own hair, you know!”
Al shrugged. “I know, but I want to. I thought you said I always used to do this for you,” he said, carefully picking out the tangles before running the brush through the section again.
Ed sighed. “You did,” he said quietly. “And I liked it. I like it now,” he added. Now, like before, Al seemed to have a knack for taming his hair instantly, where it took Ed a significant amount of time and a certain amount of consideration he was not always willing to put forth. He could feel Al separating his hair into equal sections, and put his hand back to feel what his brother was doing. “I thought you don’t know how to braid?” he asked, still puzzled.
“Winry showed me the other night.”
“Winry, can you teach me to braid?” It had been an innocent sounding question asked by a twelve year old, and Al tried to keep his voice from quivering when he asked it. He knew, (there were so many things he didn’t know, but this was one he did) he knew she would be upset, no matter what tone of voice he used, no matter how he phrased the question, but he asked it anyway.
She put down her screwdriver but did not look up. “Why?” she asked, her voice flat, her hair hanging down, blocking her expression.
“My hair’s getting long,” he whispered.
“Cut it off,” she suggested harshly, picking up another tool and focusing pointedly on the mechanism in the palm of her hand.
“I-“
She pressed her hands flat on the workbench, her head still down, her shoulders hunched. “You aren’t him, Al,” she said, finally turning to look at him. “You’re not your brother, you never will be, even if you wear his clothes, read his books, carry his suitcase, grow your hair out-“
“I know,” he interrupted. “I know I’m not Ed, you remind me of that every time you look at me! That doesn’t mean I can’t braid my hair. Brother did it because it got in his face, and it’s getting in my face, and if you wont show me how I’ll just ask someone else-“
“Don’t,” she said roughly. “Please. I can’t stand it if you look any more like him than you already do.”
Ed raised his eyebrows, even though his brother couldn’t see him from behind, and tried to picture Al and Winry having hair-braiding lessons after he had finally fallen asleep. “Oh,” he said finally. When Al finished, Ed scooted back on the bed, tucking his leg up under himself and facing his brother. “You know, I think I’ll sleep out in the other room tonight. You and Winry can share the bed in here,” he offered.
Al looked away. “I don’t care,” he said, but his voice was toneless. “Whatever you want to do.”
Edward looked down at his lap, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “I want things to work out between the two of you,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to come between you.”
“You’ve always been between us,” Al countered, still looking away. There was no malice in his voice, only resignation. “Even when you were worlds away.”
“I’m sorry, Al,” Ed said, almost desperately, but Al stopped him.
“Don’t be sorry,” Al said firmly. “You weren’t even here.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Ed whispered, and Al sighed, leaning his forehead into his brother’s.
“That was the past,” he murmured. “You’re here now, and I’m glad.”
They sat like that for several minutes, in the center of the hotel bed, heads pressed together and eyes closed, before Al spoke again. “You said you got in a fight,” Al said quietly, knowing that Winry was in the other room of their suite. “Are you all right? Did you get hurt?”
Ed picked his head up, standing up and shaking out the clean clothes he had set out for himself: the maroon shirt and black pants Roy had bought for him in East City. “Nah, I just got knocked around a bit, but I’m okay. I was mostly just dirty from being on the ground.” He saw his brother’s concerned expression, and added, “I can still hold my own in a fight, even if I’m not as good as I was,” he assured him. He had already stepped into the pants and was putting on the shirt, reaching up to pull his long braid of hair out of the collar before buttoning it up.
Al waited, and after a moment, his brother continued, in the same quiet tone.
“I didn’t go looking for trouble, Al, I swear to you I didn’t,” he said, although as he spoke the words he thought that perhaps flipping off the red haired stranger might have been a bit cocky and less than well thought out. “Not a lot of trouble, anyway,” he amended. “It’s just that there was this guy who was bothering Sheizka when I ran into her, and I told him to bugger off and he did. She seemed really upset about him, and then after I said goodbye to her I ran into him again, only he was with his friends.” He should have walked right past them, he admitted to himself, instead of catching their attention, especially since the red-haired man seemed to be the ringleader and thus needed to defend his pride. Ed shrugged with feigned innocence, and said, “I don’t know, I guess I pissed him off somehow-“ Al raised and eyebrow at that, echoing somehow? with just his eyes- “and then, well, you see, I had no choice but to fight back-“
“You did start the fight! Brother!” Al kept his voice quiet, but his concern and irritation were growing.
Ed shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “They were doing something secret, something they didn’t want anyone to see, when I ran into them. They were exchanging a package, and while they were coming after me, one of them tried to take off with the package, and then they forgot about me and went after him.” He shrugged. “Then the police showed up. That’s all that happened, it wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugged again, trying to convince his brother of this. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something would have happened anyway, even if I hadn’t been there.” He finished buttoning his shirt one-handed, and noticed his brother still staring at the metal hand that remained at his side, no good for working buttons, and guessed what he was thinking. “Al, don’t be so worried. It’s not the first mess I’ve walked into, I just have that kind of luck, you know, and I always come out okay.”
“You need to let Winry make you new automail,” Al said abruptly. “You’re right, you do have that kind of luck. You spend one day in Central and look what happens. I’m worried about you.”
Ed just shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’m your big brother, I can take care of myself. And Winry is making new automail for me, I’ve seen her plans for it, haven’t you?” He bundled up his dirty clothes and tossed them into the corner of the hotel room. “Of course, I can’t wait to get it, but I don’t want to nag her about it. She has to finish her orders for her customers too, or she’s going to lose their business, and she’s already taking time away from her work to spend with Kaiya.” He looked at his brother, who seemed to be ready to protest. “You know anything about automail surgery?” he asked softly.
Al nodded, reciting what he had been told. “I know it’s painful, I know you never screamed, I know I sat outside your door until it was over.”
“I tried not to scream because I didn’t want you to worry, Al,” he said then. “It’s okay if you don’t remember,” he added, seeing his brother’s expression. “You were still there for me, even if you don’t remember it.” You were the only one who could share my guilt.
Al smiled sadly. Sometimes he really could believe his brother; that it really was all right that his memories were gone, but sometimes. like now, he wished beyond wishing that he could have them back. “I know you learned to move with it after only one year,” he continued, trying not to betray his longing, “because you’re a prodigy at everything, brother.”
Ed groaned. “Ugh, not everything, Al,” he contradicted.
Al gave him a quizzical expression. “Oh yeah? What’s something that exists in this world that you don’t have an immediate and complete understanding of? Cause I can’t come up with anything. You’re a genius through and through, and you know it.”
“Um, girls?” Ed suggested, and cringed when Al shot him a dark look.
“Well that’s for damn sure,” Al muttered, standing up as if to leave the room.
“Wait,” Ed said, and Al thought at first he was going to utter some inane apology for his relationship- because whatever Ed said about it just being one night, it was clear to Al it was more than that- with Winry, but he didn’t. “There’s something I need to tell you about what happened today.”
“What is it?”
Ed lowered his voice, and Al moved away from the doorway. “Two things, actually. One, I kind of got arrested-“
“What?”
“Shhh,” Ed reminded him. “They let me go. It was clear that I didn’t start the fight. But I’d say the entire police station at Central’s seen me. If anyone recognized me, no one said anything, and I left. So whenever you’re ready to explain to me exactly how bad it would be if the military knew I was alive, I’m all ears.”
“The military and the police are two different entities now, brother,” Al told him, but the same worry had clouded his expression once again. “They’re not related anymore.”
“Yeah, but they called the military investigators, because the guy who attacked me, the one who was bothering Scheizka? He was wearing a uniform.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the other thing, Brother?”
“Their package tore open. There were red stones inside.”
Chapter Four, Part Two
Note1: part two nearly completed
Note2: no, it does not include that sex scene I was daydreaming about