07.09: posting this here for archive purposes (original 2003 FMA/brotherhood 2009 FMA crossovers)
My AP Scores aren't available yet for some reason, which fuck; looks like I'm also going to be getting a teaching degree; the FMA shirt Francey bought me came fuck yeah; college is still terrifying but I feel better than I did before. Here are the beginnings, rewriting scenes, and random sketching character building meta-things none of which is finished. First chapter of Superhero AU (still deciding whether or not to call it i'm giving you a night call or Bruce Wayne's Got Nothing on You) should be up on the 22nd, if everything goes according to plan.
i.
In true Roy Mustang fashion, the only thing that heralds his arrival is a sudden explosion that nearly wipes out two square city wide blocks. Ed’s the first one to see it, stories above everyone else, beating the shit out of the Freezing Alchemist. The problem is that Colonel Roy Mustang doesn’t have an eyepatch. Or was apparently demoted. Or even in that area of the city because Ed can definitely make out a Mustang-shaped figure a couple miles to the west.
Somehow, when they all converge at the point of the explosion, ice shattered around them and melting into storm drains, seeing Mustang kneeling in the middle of a street around his destruction with Edward Elric cradled in his arms, apparently suffering from extreme hypothermia.
Which doesn’t make any fucking sense considering Edward Elric is standing on his own goddamn feet a few meters away and Mustang is soaked to the core right behind him, and even when the Colonel Bastard is faced with their freaking clones the man still manages to smirk at Ed and ask ‘What did you do now?’
There’s not many times that Ed can say that he has nothing to do with the absolute clusterfuck he usually finds himself in, but hey - miracles do exist.
ii.
The other him is older - nineteen to be exact, nearly twenty. Nineteen with his hair loose around his shoulders and down to his lower back, a white scar on his cheek, and absolute crap automail on his arm and leg. He had clothes - they were taken away because hello, soaked through with freezing water - strange and detailed and adult. Pressed brown slacks and a white shirt and a waist coat that they had to rip off him trying to get him warm, both Mustangs kneeling over him, hands extended, vibrating the molecules in the air. (Was there anything more bizarre than Roy Mustang yelling at Roy Mustang? The answer was no.)
Ed sits outside of the hospital door because it’s weird staring at his own (older) sleeping face with nothing but his own thoughts for company. They had taken the other Mustang for questioning, even though now there was only a slim doubt that he was who he said he was, which was Mustang.
They had decided to let the other Edward recover, mainly because Al had stood over his body and stared at him, red-white eyes somehow flickering over his body before he turned to Ed and said, quiet, ‘Brother, that’s you.’ No-one asked any questions after that. Alphonse Elric knew his brother.
The other him sleeps, and Ed waits as he watches the hours tick away, every minute another minute that he waits for the train to Liore to arrive so that some normalcy can be regained, and when the day turns back into night, there’s footsteps down the hallway.
He stares at the other Mustang - the Mustang with an eyepatch and who’s missing his stars and the cockiness even though the general bastardness was there (couldn’t get rid of something ingrained, could ya?) and who held the other him’s nearly lifeless body against his chest and yelled at his counterpart to help him even though he probably had no idea what was going on. The other Mustang stares right back, then quirks his lips up in a half-smile and goes into the room.
Ed stares at the wall, and then slumps back into his chair. Five more hours until the train comes. Five more.
iii.
“Brother, you shouldn’t-”
“Shush, Al, I can’t hear them over you-”
“Brother, this is wrong-”
“Al, it’s me - how the hell is it wrong if I’m sneaking on myself-”
“You know that’s not it-”
“Shh, Al, they’re talking-”
He presses his ear closer to the wall and ignores his brother’s hissing, which has obligingly dropped down to a near inaudible protesting. The other him was awake, he knew that much, heard the door open to the bathroom and then, like magic, voices just barely muffled through the door.
“No idea where we are then,” the other him says, voice quiet. Ed presses against the vent and listens harder. “But we are in Amestris.”
“An Amestris,” the other Mustang corrects. “I don’t know what we’re doing here, or how we got here, but everything’s the same, except - not - you’re different here. We’re younger.”
“How much? What do you mean?”
“You can’t be more than fifteen,” the other Mustang murmurs. “Be careful - his hair, it’s a shade lighter than yours and there’s something - I can’t describe it, I can just tell you apart easily. The other me has both eyes, but is otherwise the same, I suppose. For - will you please be careful?”
“Not made out of glass, Mustang,” the other him snarks back. “I can stand just fine. Where’re my clothes?”
“Here. They’re dry now - Fullmetal, you should not be standing. You were trapped in a sheet of ice forty stories high, for your own sake please be careful.”
“Whine, whine, whine - you haven’t changed - hey -”
“For God’s sake, Edward,” the other Mustang hisses suddenly, voice low. “I refuse to loose you a third time and to something mundane as pneumonia, and if not for your sake, then for my sanity’s, please.”
There’s quiet from inside the room, and Ed wavers for just a second on top of Al’s shoulder, pressing against the hallway wall to steady himself. There’s light coming through the grate, which probably meant that it was a straight shot to the other side so -
“Hey, Al, push me up a couple of feet,” Ed orders, and Al sighs wearily before complying, and it’s just the boost to see through the thin cross pattern of the vent, into the room. The angle’s awkward, but he can see through it just fine - Mustang with his jacket off, just in his white dress shirt and blue pants, standing in front of the other him, half-dressed in brown slacks and his white shirt, waistcoat over his shoulders but unbuttoned.
They’re close - disturbingly close. Ed can count on one hand how many times he and his Mustang (not - not his Mustang, but not the other Mustang) have stood that close, only inches apart, close enough to share the same breath.
Mustang has his hand on the other him’s upper arm, probably just caught him from toppling over, and the other Ed caught himself with a handful of Mustang’s shirt. The other him is looking up (and Ed is sure that he’s still growing, even at nineteen, though the other him came up to Mustang’s shoulder which was a great improvement), probably studying the eye patch.
“You’re not helping the trend,” Mustang remarks, wry and quiet. The other him lifts an eyebrow.
“The hell do you mean by that?”
Mustang breaths out a single laugh, and his thumb slides across the other Ed’s arm, back and forth. The other him’s grip doesn’t loosen.
“The second to last time we were this close was right before you disappeared, when we said goodbye. The last time was on that flying craft, and you disappeared within ten minutes. First time is random, second time is a coincidence, but the third time is a pattern.” There’s a bitter quirk to Mustang’s smile. “Don’t let it be a pattern.”
There’s a split second silence, awkward and tense with something Ed’s not sure about before the other him grins. “Relax, Mustang. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
He never gets to see what happens next because suddenly Al is gone from underneath him and he’s staring up at his own Mustang, who raises an eyebrow.
“Having fun?”
There’s really only one thing Ed can say to that.
(“So, turns out you’re a bastard on both worlds.”)
ii.
Ed has a very specific system to dealing with his problems - ignore it until it works itself out.
He comes back from Liore to the other him up and moving around, recovering from nearly fatal pneumonia and the other Mustang following him around like - well, like a goddamn puppy to be honest. They’re restricted to Central Command, hidden away in Mustang’s office (and apparently that’s Mustang’s way of dealing with his problems - if it’s confined to his office, it’s manageable).
The other him keeps staring, keeps cocking his head and darting him glances as he talks to Al and just is Ed.
Another world. An alternate universe. Ed laughs, but then he thinks about it, thinks about the thing at the Gate and the Gate itself and if it exists, then why not another world? Why not several other worlds? (The time travel is a bit weird though, and Ed will grow higher than Mustang’s shoulder, he just will even if nineteen year old him hasn’t.)
But, to be honest, he ignores it. The other him and Mustang are searching for a way back to their world and there’s a certainty to them that gives the impression they’re going to find it.
And maybe the world will stop being so weird when they do.
iii.
He catches them kissing.
Lets just repeat that. He (read: Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, fifteen) catches them (read: the other Edward Elric, also the Fullmetal Alchemist, nineteen and the other Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, what, fifty?) kissing. Kissing.
They’re in the office, that’s the rich part (Ed blames Mustang’s method of problem solving - in fact, let’s just blame all of this on Mustang). To be fair, it is eleven at night, and Ed is complaining about Mustang’s lack of leads and how all he can offer is the Sewing Life Alchemist which - what a god-awful name - and suddenly Mustang just stops in the doorway, Ed crashing into his back, and when he goes to yell he sees...it.
(Read: the other Mustang pressing himself so flush against the other Ed it’s hard to tell where they begin and end, joined at the lips, one of Mustang’s hands in Ed’s hair, Ed’s hands wrapped around Mustang’s jaw and then Ed gasps - the other Ed, the other Mustang, not Ed and Mustang never Ed and Mustang for god’s sake don’t think that thought-)
“Top five most awkward moments of my life,” the other Ed mutters. “Actually, this is the most awkward moment of my life and my dad stuck his head into my bedroom once and asked if ‘my friend and I wanted breakfast’ when said friend and I were - busy.”
The other Mustang makes a pained look, just barely hidden, but still looks like he just had to swallow a ripe lemon. Ed and Mustang - stare. He keeps expecting Mustang to snap out of it, but he just stands next to him, quiet for the first time in his life and Ed keeps waiting for him to break the silence - to somehow fix the awkwardness and ‘oh my fucking god’ in the air, but there’s...nothing.
Which leaves it up to Ed, who gets out a ‘what?’ to which the other Mustang blinks and says ‘what?’ and then Mustang says ‘oh my God’ about five minutes too late.
“Good job, guys, that clears everything up. Conversation of the year,” the other Ed mutters, and runs a hand over his face, staring at the ceiling with a distinct ‘why me?’ expression.
“You two are...” Mustang trails off, tries to start over, and then visibly fails. Ed feels lost and - he’s not sure. He’s not sure he’s not sure and if that’s not confusing, then he’s not sure what is. “When-”
“Like ten minutes ago,” the other him says, before wrinkling his nose. “This hasn’t been happening since I was like twelve, you freak. I’m sure it’s all - new,” he says, and Ed hates the fact that apparently either version of him can’t hide shit because the apprehension at putting a time stamp to it is obvious. The other Mustang shifts, just barely, but enough to give away a subtle awkwardness. He’s suddenly pinned with three gazes.
“Oh, god,” he says, faintly. “Not - of course not. He was twelve - a child. I just - it’s not...new.”
“When?” the other him asks, after a beat, quiet.
The other Mustang shifts and then sighs. “After - after Hughes. I suppose I realized how easily I could loose someone I cared about and, I don’t know, I suppose my perceptions just...shifted. Hawkeye and I became closer, I realized a bit more how lucky I was to have my men, and I just - felt.” His jaw tenses. “The thought of loosing you became nearly unbearable and considering how much trouble you put yourself in, I suppose I was asking for an early death, but I couldn’t help - and the thought of you and Al by yourselves, alone - I didn’t want it. That’s why I chased you into Resembool, why I didn’t let you come with me to the - and-” he laughs suddenly, bitterly. “Look how much good that did me. I still lost you, twice.”
“What?” Ed says, suddenly, but no-one listens.
“What?” the other Ed says, and stares up at the other Mustang. “What?” and then his hand darts out and strikes Mustang hard - with the automail hand - on his arm. “You freakin’ shit since Hughes? Fucking Ishval?” He hits Mustang again, and the other man winces but doesn’t lift a hand to hold his arm. “The fucking - the thing by the river - the - Jesus Christ!”
“Who’s Jesus Christ?” both Mustangs ask at the same time and Ed looks up at the Mustang next to him, leveling him with an unimpressed look.
“That’s what you’re going to ask?” Ed questions and Mustang swings him gaze to look down at him. “Out of all the questions and the ‘what the fuck’s, that’s what you’re gonna ask.”
Mustang stares, and then blinks, and then opens his mouth and closes it twice. “What would you have me ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ed says, rolling his eyes. “For one, is this contagious? Two, no - really - is it contagious? Three, what the absolute fuck? Four, oh my fucking god Mustang - Mustang?!”
“Hey, don’t you fucking judge me,” the other him snarled and took a step forward. “How old are you? Fifteen? And you’re asking me why Mustang - like that’s not hypocritical -”
“Oh my god,” Ed shrieked. “Oh my god shut up! No - no no no -” He clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head. The other him took a step forward.
“And don’t tell me you never - hey -”
The other him was cut off suddenly - thank god - as the other Mustang took a step forward, picked him up, and swung him over his shoulder. There was a second of stunned silence, and then the other him shrieked and started kicking.
“Let’s talk about this in the morning, alright?” the other Mustang said, and jostled the other Ed in his arms.
“You-” Ed starts and then falters. Mustang (the other Mustang) stalls for a moment, hands half way extended to pick up another folded white shirt before he continues on with the motion and places it inside of his bag. Ed feels his automail clench. He thinks of the ways he could finish the sentence - you look depressed, you don’t seem so hot, you look so down I thought you’d be jumping at the opportunity, you actually are gonna miss him - and his brain picks it up and rolls with it. “You love him.”
Mustang stops again and swings his one-eyed gaze towards him. He searches Ed’s face, most likely to look to see if there’s a trap waiting for him, but Ed’s sure (and hates that) he looks nothing but embarrassed, very interested in a spot on the floor, shuffling his flesh foot back and forth through the dust, hands in pockets and leaning against the window.
“Yes,” Mustang answers, honestly, and before a beat can pass Ed looks up and asks, “Why?”
The other Mustang blinks, before his expression softens, and he turns away to continue packing, picking up the repetitive motion of putting his clothes away. “That’s like asking why the sun rises every morning - I just do.”
“The sun rises because gravity attracts us to it and forces us into centripetal motion, giving us the illusion that the sun ‘rises’ over the horizon,” Ed says, irritable.
“Exactly,” Mustang agrees - which. Ed stares at him, and Mustang smiles. “It’s a compliment, Ed, if you keep that face it’ll get stuck that way. I’m saying it’s a fact of nature.”
“Bastard,” Ed hisses, but lifts the frown from his face. Mustang’s smile widens.
“I love the way he lights up a room. How people never fail to stop what they’re doing and turn to look at him. I love his morals, how he always does what he believes to be right. I love how he hates it when people give him the run-around, doesn’t understand why people aren’t just blunt and truthful with themselves. I love the way he smiles like he’s afraid to be too happy about something, and I love the way he smiles like the world’s problems don’t exist. The way his eyes light up, the way he has such a one track mind, the determination and the sense of responsibility he holds - why do you ask?”
“I just-” Ed stumbles, caught off guard. “You - I mean, you really...” He trails off, gaze dropping. “You really do love him.”
“Yes,” Mustang confirms. “I do.”
“But you’re...” Ed says, and draws his eyebrows together. “You. And I’m - he’s - I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” Mustang says, amused. “Your sense of self-deprecation never fails to amuse me.”
“I just - I don’t get it. It doesn’t make any sense. The logistics don’t add up - even philosophy wise. How can you-”
“It’s really quite simple, Ed,” Mustang assures. “There isn’t a set science or parameters to being in love with someone else. It’s a mystery.”
“I hate mysteries,” Ed grouses. Mustang grins.
“I know.”
“Would you-” He cuts himself off suddenly, and shakes his head, cheeks blooming a bright red. “I - never mind.”
“It’s alright,” Mustang says, eyebrows drawing together. “You can ask. Anything.”
“I don’t wanna - like - cross a line,” Ed mutters, and shakes his head again. “It’s stupid. Unreasonable.”
“It’s honestly alright,” Mustang huffs, smiling. “If you’d like I can promise that no matter what happens, it stays between us?”
Ed stares at him, face turning an even brighter shade of red, before he chokes out, “Can you kiss me?”
Mustang blinks down at him. “That’s what you wanted to ask?”
“I knew it was stupid,” Ed says, eyes closing. “So, so stupid - forget I even mentioned it - if you ever tell anyone-”
“It’s not stupid, Ed,” Mustang says, softly. “Are you sure, though? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not like it’s going to happen during this whole fuckin’ mess,” Ed points out, rolling his eyes. “And I’d rather not die without even having my first freaking kiss - and I swear to God, if you tell anyone-”
“It’ll be between us,” Mustang assures, and frowns. “And you’re not going to die in the first place.”
“So, it’s void,” Ed shrugs. “I just - you can say no if you don’t wanna-”
“Ed,” Mustang cuts in, soft, before taking a step forward so that he and Ed are just a breath away. “It’s honestly alright. I don’t mind at all. How would you like me to kiss you?”
“There’s fucking - there’s levels? What?” Ed stares at him, confused, and Mustang honestly tries not to laugh. Ed gets even more flustered. “When the fuck was I supposed to learn this shit, Mustang? Just - you-” He nearly give a full-body twitch, before his voice drops to a murmur. “You - when you said goodbye to the - the other me. You kissed him then. I just-”
“Alright,” Mustang says quietly. “Alright. Tell me the second you want me to stop, okay?”
Ed nods, jerkily, and exhales. “Okay. Don’t let it go to your head, but I - trust you.”
“I will try to keep my ego from inflating,” Mustang says seriously, and gently places his hands on Ed’s neck. “This alright? I have to support your head because it’s going to bent back a little.”
“It’s fine,” Ed says, and licks his lips. “Never had someone’s hands on my neck when they weren’t trying to squeeze the life out of me.”
“Well, we can break that trend right now,” Mustang murmurs, and moves his head closer. “Breathe in - it’s hard to get the rhythm the first time.”
Ed inhales a deep breath, and Mustang ducks his head down to kiss him. At first it’s nothing but Mustang’s lips on Ed’s, and Ed’s tense, shoulders tight as pulled wire, until Mustang’s thumb starts to swipe back and forth, and he murmurs against his mouth ‘easy, easy’.
It’s easier after that. The tension seeps from Ed’s body, and Mustang takes his bottom lip in-between his own, just barely drawing it into his mouth to suck on it. Somewhere in all of it, Ed’s hand wrapped itself into Mustang’s shirt and used him for balance as Mustang gently tilted his head to the side.
But, all in all, Ed thought he was doing quite well in terms of holding himself back considering that his entire body was thrumming, and he could barely stifle the urge to just pull Mustang closer to him, pressing the entire length of his body flush against the other man’s like he had seen the other Ed do.
It lasts as far as when Mustang swipes the tip of his tongue along the ridge of Ed’s upper lip, and that’s when the self-control just - goes.
He pulls away before he do something ridiculously stupid like says ‘I think I might be in love with you’ or ‘there’s a very high possibility we’re going to die in the next few days, wanna just go for that last step?’
“Like that?” Mustang murmurs, still not even an inch away from Ed. He tries really hard not to lick his lips.
“Yeah - um.” Okay, so maybe Ed’s moving his head closer and he’s back to where he started, just barely brushing Mustang’s lips with his own-
“Dinner’s ready,” someone says, suddenly, and Ed feels his eyes fly open as he takes a quick step away from Mustang, except that Mustang’s hands are still on his jaw so he just kinda jerks in place before the grip disappears.
When he looks up it’s to Mustang - the other Mustang, not the other Mustang, Ed’s Mustang (not Ed’s Mustang, for fuck’s sake, you know what he means) standing in the doorway, mouth pressed into a thin line. There’s something in his gaze that makes Ed shift uncomfortably, and he pulls away from the both of them to hurry downstairs because - food.
What he doesn’t see is the two Mustang stare at each other, one pinning the other with a glare, and the other calmly returning it.
“It’s not what you’re thinking it was,” the other Mustang says, calmly. He levels his counterpart with a cool look.
“Stay away from him,” Mustang growls, taking a step forward. “You can’t have them both-”“I don’t intend to,” the other Mustang shoots back. “What do you think that was?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you - he’s confused. You and the other Fullmetal - he’s sixteen. He’s confused.”
“He seemed pretty sure ten minutes ago,” the other Mustang points out. Mustang shifts.
“That doesn’t make him any less confused - he’s just going to end up hurt and you - leading him on-”
“I’m not leading him on,” the other Mustang says, shortly, and takes a step forward. “You’ve misunderstood the situation.”
“There wasn’t much for me to misunderstand,” Mustang growls. The other Mustang shakes his head and takes the final step forward, before he steps around him.
“He’s the one that asked for me to kiss him,” the other Mustang says, before he steps into the hall.
-
“What the hell were you thinking?!” the other Mustang roared, and Ed didn’t hide slightly behind Mustang, no siree. The other Edward stood tall, gaze pinned on the floor, and Ed supposed he should have been grateful that the other Mustang waited to explode until they were in the office as it might have been worse to have this reaction twenty minutes ago when they were still in the rain. At least Al wasn’t here to listen to it - and as much as Ed didn’t want to hear about his brother gushing over the other him and Mustang, Ed knew that it would kill Al to hear this.
“Scar was going to kill him,” the other Edward ground out. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the other Mustang said, angry and conversationally. “Maybe not offer yourself up? God damnit Ed - if that wasn’t fucking stupid the first time around-”
“Shut the fuck up!” the other Edward raged. “You don’t know shit - I am not going to watch another person get killed because I didn’t take the other fucking option!”
“You don’t get to decide that!” the other Mustang roared. “That’s not your fucking decision! You’re life is not something you barter away!”
“It’s my fucking life, bastard, I’m not your fucking toy soldier anymore, you can’t pick me up like a fucking chess pawn and put me in the right square, fucking hell!”
“And look how well that worked out when you were giving control - where have you been for the past fucking four years?”
The other him glared, snarling. “You think I had a fucking choice-”
“Of course you had a choice!” the other Mustang shot back, eyebrows pulled together, frowning fiercely. “You had a fucking choice, and you chose to run away-”
The other Edward’s left hand shot out, lightening quick, and struck the other Mustang’s face. Ed jumped, looked over to his Mustang who was staring at the whole debate with the corner of his lips pulled down, silent. He was angry, Ed knew he was furious, but he couldn’t put it on display right now.
“You fucking bastard,” the other Edward said, coldly. “You think - you think if there was any other fucking option I wouldn’t have taken it? You think I would voluntarily leave if I didn’t have to?”
“I think you didn’t try,” the other Mustang said, looking up, cradling his bruised cheek. “I think you could have found a solution, but you didn’t want to try.”
“You fucking shit,” the other Ed hissed. “If you wanted me to stay so badly you should have fucking said something, then, instead of holding my brother back while he screamed at me not to go. You should have said something when I had to save a world I don’t even like, a world that killed the man I loved, killed my best friend, killed my father. You should have said something instead of fucking standing there like a coward.”
Ed wasn’t sure what had made the other Mustang flinch, but the man stood tall, glare gone. He was just...staring.
“I let you go,” the other Mustang said, softly. “Haven’t you ever wondered why I let you walk away from me twice?”
“Because you’re a fucking idiot?” the other Ed tried, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “Because you don’t have the guts-”
“Because I had to trust that you would do the right thing,” the other Mustang cut in, exhaling. “I had to let you go because there was another world outside of my own, and that what I wanted most didn’t matter. I couldn’t keep living with my eyes closed.”
And the other him - stilled. Froze.
“I killed Pride,” the other Mustang said, like a gunshot in the silence. “I killed Pride and you did whatever you needed to do but you didn’t come back, Ed, where’s the equivalence in that? Two years in the north, in the freezing fucking wasteland in the middle of nowhere keeping myself from blowing my brains out and going insane with the thought that you had to be out there because you would never do something so simple as die, for what, for you to look at me one last time and so that I could see your back as you walked away from me again? Of course I held Alphonse back, because I knew that you would never come back if I let him go. Maybe, if I loved you more, I would have let him go because then I know you would have been happy but yes, I am a coward, and selfish. And I will not loose you again.”
Ed felt his heart try to jump through his throat. Maybe, if I loved you more - but no, that had to an expression, some shared joke, but the other him’s fists were clenched so tight that Ed could hear the other man’s automail creaking.
“When?” the other him finally said. “Since when?”
The other Mustang was silent, and then, “Hughes.”
“Hughes,” the other Edward said, flatly. There was rage rising in his expression. Ed always was shit had hiding his feelings. “Liore, then, too, I suppose. By the river? In the fucking car?”
“Yes,” the other Mustang said, and the other Ed slapped him again.
“I was fifteen,” the other Ed snarled. “I was fifteen, you inconsiderate shit. I was fifteen and fucking confused and fighting for my life and you’re telling me you’ve been in love with me since fucking Hughes? What, did you keep that back from me because you love me then?”
“No,” the other Mustang said, and rubbed at his jaw. “Even if I didn’t - Hughes was not your fault. It was not your fault, and I know you would have eventually blamed yourself for it. You’re predictable in the worst ways.”
The other Mustang must have really been looking to get slapped again, Ed thought, half way to a growl. Predictable his ass.
“Do you really think, however,” the other Mustang said, laughing dryly. “That I would cross the entire Eastern desert after you and then risk everything I’d ever worked for to yell at you about not coming to me in the first place if I wasn’t? That I would force you to not come with me even though every inch of logic was yelling at me to take you with me, that there was a guarantee that we would both come out of alive, and I told you to go either way because I thought I was keeping you safe? And the military - no proof, you see, so all they could was strip me of my rank and within the next hour, I was at the re-enrollment office and they offered me Briggs, the middle of the frozen wasteland, the farthest thing that was related to you, you who have been everywhere, and I still went insane, sometimes I just walked into middle blizzards hoping that the fucking sight of you walking away from me would finally disappear in the haze of white and it never did.”
“That’s not my fucking fault,” the other him faltered. “That’s not my fault. I didn’t-”
“No, you didn’t,” the other Mustang said. “You had as much control over it as I did. Hawkeye - hated me. She had saved my life, screamed at me to cling onto what I had left, and for the first few days it seemed as everything was fine. And then we couldn’t find your body. And then Ms. Thomas brought your brother forward, fully restored, and even though I should have know what it meant, I kept blindly hoping that you’d somehow survived. They gave you a funeral, I never showed up. Your brother asked if I could know where you could have been, and I had to look him in the idea and tell him that I had no idea, but I knew you had to be alive. Not that you were alive, you had to be. And she was so angry at me that I couldn’t let you go, and then the tribunal happened and they stripped me of my rank, and I knew she was expecting something - something more from me but I couldn’t do anything. How could I possibly be happy with someone else when you could still be out there, breathing and living? So I left for the north and she was so angry at me, she didn’t even see me off. She never came to visit. I froze, she was promoted, the others told me she was moving on. I was glad. At least one of could, then.”
“You can’t - do this,” the other him hissed. “You can’t tell me I’ve fucked up your life, you can’t-”
“But, that wasn’t your fault. Those two years passed and I never blamed you. Every time I agonized over it in my mind, I changed my decisions, not yours. But I will never forgive you for looking me in the eye, for looking your brother straight in the eye, and letting us go. Your brother will never forgive me for holding him back, and I will never forgive you for making me do it. I will never forgive you for turning your back on the both us in the name of keeping the people who took you away safe.”
“We should go,” Ed murmured to his Mustang, who was standing quiet, still a statue. They were off the corner, completely ignored, and his Mustang looked at him, gave him a long look, and and Ed could sense that they were going to leave, but the other him spoke before they did.
“Alfons said that people would do anything they could to make the people they love happy,” said the other him. His fists were clenched. “It would have only taken one word, Mustang. I would have stayed if you asked me to.”
“I shouldn’t have had to,” the other Mustang said, quietly. “I learned long ago that making your decisions for you was a terrible mistake. I trusted you to do what you thought was right, and you did.”
There was a period of silence, and Ed took a step back towards the door, but the other him turned directly towards him, pinning his gaze onto Ed’s missing arm.
“He has to get his arm replaced,” the other Ed said, flatly. “He has to. And I need to go to Central.”
The change in conversation was so sudden that even Mustang blinked. Ed looked up as he moved, just barely, his entire expression changing to one of suspicion. “Why do you need to go to Central?” Mustang questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you not going with Fullmetal?”
“I have my reasons,” the other him shrugged, swiping his ponytail over his shoulder, seemingly ignoring the other Mustang. “I need to confirm something. Armstrong and the General over here should take him an’ Al back to Resembool. Winry can fix up that arm and leg for you.”
“Leg?” Ed questioned. The other him nearly smirked.
“What, you don’t honestly think you haven’t grown in four years, do you?” the other Ed said, nonchalantly, walking forward, and nudging Ed with his arm. He looked down at Ed, soft, and then his gaze grew sharp. “You are not to leave until Winry finishes with your arm.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Ed questioned, almost scowling. “Course I’m not gonna leave until Winry’s finished.”
Instead of agreeing, the other him turned towards the other Mustang and narrowed his gaze. “You are not to let him leave. I don’t care if you have to chain him to the bed. A day’s worth of travel time, three days to build the automail and adjust the leg, another to come back. Roy-”
“I won’t,” the other Mustang said, inclining his head. “We won’t.”
Ed gave them both a rightfully offended look. “The hell are you doing in Central then?”
The other him’s expression lightened, and he winked down at Ed. “Research, didn’t I say? Come and see me.”
The entire thing was too confusing. The other him winked at him again, looked at the other Mustang (and something must have passed between them because the other Mustang looked away, and the other Ed scowled) and then finally looked to Mustang.
“Relax, Colonel,” the other him said, loftily. “I won’t cause too much trouble. I’ll give Hughes your best, yeah?”
-
Well, it wasn’t too much trouble. The ride back to Central was just as mind numbingly boring as it always had been, and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was waiting for him, hollering his hello over the crowd as Ed shouldered his suitcase over his shoulder and pushed off of the train. It didn’t take too long (Hughes rattling about Elysia and Gracia the entire way) to get to Hughes’ apartment, so different from the house that Ed was used to.
Elysia was delighted to see him, Gracia even more so. Ed wanted to hold them close and swear that they’d be that happy forever but first - Envy.
Envy, and Lust. He had never been sure who had burnt down the First National Branch Library but it would be his first encounter with the Homunculus.
The array to purge the Philosopher's Stones from their bodies was still at the forefront of his mind, still knew how it felt, how it reduced Lust to nothing but dust and broken blood-red stone. (He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if he came toe to toe with Lust; would she be the same as his Lust? Craving mortality and love? But everything in this world was turned on it’s axis, he couldn’t assume…)
It was obvious, over dinner, while Ed enjoyed Gracia’s quiche (the same quiche Gracia in Munich used to make, except just a bit creamier) that Hughes was trying to prod him for answers. This world’s Mustang - the Colonel - had probably put him up to it, but Ed enjoyed his quiche and answered with, ‘You’ll know soon enough’ every time. Needless to say, Hughes was halfway between annoyed and amused.
Still, he counted the days in his head. The day after Ed arrived in Central, the General and the other him left for Resembool, early in the morning. Then, a day’s worth of travel and on the way they would pass by the small town Marcoh lived in; Ed wasn’t stupid enough to not notice the connection. Roy would understand why Ed had told him to go with the other him, and he had no idea how the timeline would progress after that, skewering away from him completely (Where was the assessment? Where was the Fuhrer visiting the East?) and he’d have to wing it from there.
Either way, every night he stood across from the Library and waited. And then.
It wasn’t Envy. Ed almost missed it, the flicker of light on the third floor, and the shadow that spilt across it.
Envy wouldn’t have bothered searching the library for Marcoh’s notes first, or even bothered debating whether or not to burn it down. Lust, however.
His time to move, then. Ed carefully pulled his brown jacket off of his arms (wincing at the cut that Scar gave him) and carefully moved across the shadows, towards the back door. He could have transmuted the lock, but besides his now pretty obvious aversion to it, he had learned how to open doors without clapping, and in some ways the years without alchemy were semi-beneficial. He snapped the lock open with his automail hand and slunk in, carefully ghosting up the back stairs for the employees and up to the third landing.
Shadows, flickering shadows, and someone was flipping through a book. The shadow was shifting constantly on the floor, a womanly shape to it and another portly one next to her. Lust and Gluttony too, then. Fucking hell.
The library would not burn. One of the most horrific things that Dante had ever done was letting the entire First Branch burn down and Ed would not have it. All that information, lost - it didn’t bear thinking about.
Two Homunculi. Ed had dealt with worse. Of course, he was killed the last time he went up against more than one Homunculi alone, but maybe his equivalence would keep him alive…
One of the figures stilled suddenly.
“I smell him, Lust,” Ed heard Gluttony said, excited. Ed’s eyes widened and he took a step back, swearing silently. He could hear Gluttony coming towards him. “The boy alchemist, but not that boy alchemist.”
“The double, then,” Lust said, disinterested. “Such a conundrum. The two are good sacrifices, but we do have five accounted for. The question; do we dispose of him or use him?”
“Can I eat him? Oh, please, Lust?”
“No,” Lust said, and suddenly Ed was flinging himself out of the way as five sharp talons embedded themselves in the shelve he was standing behind. “We’ll discuss this with Father.”
Father - not Master? Not Dante? Who the fuck was Father?
It didn’t matter - or, rather, it couldn’t matter right then. The shelve collapsed and spilled against the wall as Lust retreated her hand, and then stepped into the light, holding up a lantern with one hand. Ed’s gaze caught on to it, and she raised her eyebrow. The three of them were still, waiting for the first move. Lust was nearly exactly the same as Ed remember, all dangerous beauty and sultry nonchalantness, but there was something else to her. Where Ed’s Lust looked utterly dissatisfied, nearly lost, this Lust looked -
Confident. The ouroboros on her chest was displayed proudly, and if anything she looked like she wanted nothing more than to -
She wouldn’t.
Lust dropped the lantern. Ed swore and dove forward, but the oil had already spilt and caught, leaping onto the nearby bookshelf, taking it alight. Ed moved towards it, already clapping to bend the wood onto itself and put it out, but she slid to a stop in front of him, batting him back with a hand - and Ed didn’t remember her being that strong, because he flew back into a bookshelf and couldn’t breath for a few minutes. Lust tutted, patted Gluttony on the head, and turned on her heel as the third floor went up in smoke.
“Fucking hell,” Ed growled, and then repeated it in German, English, and French. The fire was getting out of control - Roy would have been helpful, any Roy. Ed wasn’t good with atmospheric transmutation, so bottling the oxygen and hydrogen wouldn’t work well, and there wasn’t anything he could.
He had to save the library. The third floor landing was nearly completely alight. Ed swore - he couldn’t save that part. And with that, he slammed his hands onto the ground, twisting the concrete pillars into large hands, patting out the flames and snuffing them out. The ceiling was burning, so Ed went to that next, and maybe - maybe. There had to be plumbing, had to be. There was a bathroom on the second floor, and Ed had to do was - he clapped against and slammed his hands onto the wall, searching for the copper and iron plated pipes, pulling them upwards and pulling them together. The water was the hard part, searching for it, but it was already there, and all Ed had to do was direct it onto the flame.
By the time he got the flames under control, half the ceiling was gone, the entire third floor was ash, and most of the second floor had bad water and smoke damage.
The sun peeked over the horizon, and Ed slid down to the ground, and ran a hand through his bangs.
Now, to see if Marcoh’s notes survived.