Nothing Gold, Ling/Ed - part 1

[faereinfer]

Title: Nothing Gold, Part 1
Author: Rydia Highwind, or vwl
Beta: yixsh <-THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death (oh god, the character death), angst resulting from said character death, and an alternate ending.
Word count: 22,222 <-I might have done this on purpose after it ended up being at 22,219 words.
Summary: Ling has gained immortality. Ed has not.
Prompt: July 28 - Ed/Ling: future fic - in this kingdom by the sea
A/N: My entry for springkink. This is non-ending compliant. I don't think I even comply with chapter 107, now that I think about it. More under the cut, because it gets spoilery from here on out.

Here's the deal: Ed has all his automail and his alchemy. Al's got his body anyway. Ling still has Greed, but when Father died, he was greatly weakened, since he's part of Father and stuff. He has survived by...sort of becoming a part of Ling. He is basically an extention of Ling's personality now, not really independent from Ling at all. Ling is immortal, and he doesn't age.

I took a few liberties with the prompt--this probably isn't what the OP wanted, but...oh well? :D I incorporated the poem (Poe's 'Annabel Lee') into the story in a couple of different ways, as you will soon see. I changed some of the words to make it gender neutral so it'd work for Ed and Ling.

This was also heavily inspired by this gorgeous fanart.

~
It had taken Ling many years to master the art of disguising his chi, and now the royal guard was not able to find him or follow him when he left on his little excursions. The head of his guard, of course, was told ahead of time that he would be going, and every single time, she would send someone to follow him or try to follow him herself, but it was easy to lose someone who relied too heavily on their ability to sense his presence.

It didn't matter if they came anyway. The Imperial guard was well trained-the best in the nation, of course-but they were really all for show, when it came down to it. The Emperor could defend himself.

Every time he left, he went to the same place. It was a day's ride away, or a night's; it didn't matter. It was the area at the edge of Xing's southeastern border. Far away from the desert, the eastern edge of the nation was mountainous and rocky, and the crags rose in high cliffs over the ocean. The weather here was brutal, away north of the fishing coastlines and sea ports. Waves crashed against mountains, eroding them away further and further as each year passed.

Here, it was quiet and loud; separated from the sound of people and living and life, there was only nature. The wind howling through the crags, the water crashing against the stone, and nothing. He embraced and hated the solitude. There was some doubt in his mind, some fear of the unknown and what was to come, but he couldn't find it in him to turn back now.

He had come here for a reason, after all.

~
They had returned to Xing much later than they had intended to, and the Emperor was not able to receive them right away, due to his illness. The advisors, the ones who were in charge of running the country while the Emperor's mind had been addled by his illness, tried to turn the Yao clan away, but they insisted upon an audience. Eventually, it was granted.

The Emperor of Xing had withered to nearly nothing, every bone in his body visible and covered only by his paper-thin, yellowed skin. His eyes had once been vivid and filled with knowledge and cunning, and now, they were sunken in and barely responsive. But the Xingese pharmacists had given him their best, and today, there was awareness; there was even, Ling thought, recognition.

Ling bowed until his knees were stiff and his nose was centimeters from the floor, his arms at his sides. Ran Fan laid next to him, and then, in a surprisingly clear voice, the Emperor bid them to stand.

"My liege. I have brought to you," Ling said, his tongue rolling over the language of his country with an easy familiarity, "the secret to immortality."

He had the attention of everyone present. They had better make this good.

"Allow me to demonstrate. Ran Fan." She looked up at him; her mask hid her expression, but he knew it was expectant. "Kill me."

"Master," she answered. "In what manner?"

"Keep it clean. This is a new outfit."

She chose to put a kunai into his heart; it was unmistakably lethal and would leave fewer bloodstains while maintaining a proper amount of theatrics. He would have to have the silk tailored, of course, and the cloth would have to be hand washed, but as the Emperor, Ling wouldn't care about such things. He forced his skin to remain soft and vulnerable as her blade slashed his tunic and his skin and his muscle, but it was difficult.

He staggered, gasping at the pain as his heart struggled to continue beating now, with a kunai through it. He fell back, to the marble floor, eyes open wide and staring at the intricate patterns lining the ceiling. There was utter silence in the chambers, and Ling stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes stared at nothing, and his heart stopped, finally.

For the briefest of moments, there was nothing; the world was hazy and dim. The Greed in him told him to wait a moment for maximum effect. He did, and then, when a quiet murmur began going up and he could stand it no longer, he reached up with his right hand and grasped the hilt of the kunai in his chest. A groan escaped his lips as he yanked it out, and he sent it skittering across the floor, leaving a trail of blood droplets behind it.

As he sat back up, there was a collective gasp from his audience. Good. Ran Fan extended hand down to help him up, and he accepted it gracefully.

"A trick!" someone declared. "His loyal vassal would never truly kill him."

"Only if she knew I would not die if she did so," Ling responded with an easy smile, brushing absently at the blood staining his tunic.

He saw it coming at the same time Ran Fan called out to warn him. The shuriken bounced harmlessly off of the black carbon shielding that had come up automatically to protect his neck. The guards around the Emperor had suddenly doubled, and the man was mostly obscured from sight. Ran Fan whispered a name to him, and he bent to pick up the shuriken.

Absolute silence filled the chamber as Ling walked to the offender and handed him the sharp metal. "I believe you dropped something," he said, his voice pure silk.

Two weeks later, the Emperor died. It occurred, quite tragically, before Ling could share with him the secrets of the philosopher's stone, and the Yao clan celebrated with a feast that lasted seven days and seven nights when their prince was announced as the Emperor's successor.

~
"You had better fucking appreciate this."

Ed stood in the doorway to the emperor's chambers, like a black-clad angel. Well, the term 'angel' might have been taking it a little too far. But he was a nice change from the typical Imperial guests, even if he was dust-covered and travel-worn, his hair coming loose from the braid it had been in. He might as well have been an angel, for all Ling was concerned.

Abandoning the two advisors that had been poring over his paperwork with him, Ling stood up from his seat, his billowing sleeves and extravagant robes sweeping around him. "Ed! How wonderful of you to visit," he beamed.

Ed was already rolling his eyes when Ling embraced him, and he didn't return the gesture, muttering about how he didn't do that 'hugging shit.' Ling was, admittedly, more than happy to hear his gruff curses again. He had missed Ed.

"It's fucking hard to get here, you know that? I was on a boat for two fucking weeks," Ed continued. "I'd never been on a boat that big before. I spent half of it puking over the side."

"Poor Ed. The sea is much more lovely when you're not being thrown to its whims," Ling responded with a nod. "I will take you there sometime so you can appreciate its true beauty from the safety of the shore."

"I've had enough water for a good, long while," Ed replied.

Ling smiled beneficently. "Does that mean you're staying for a while?"

"In Xing, sure. I told you I had some research I wanted to do," Ed answered flippantly. He was carrying a suitcase, Ling now noticed. "I'll travel around a fair bit, probably."

"But you'll come back to see me."

"Well." Ed shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. "Maybe."

That evening, Ling showed Ed his appreciation with his mouth and with his body and with his motion. The sunset filtered through the two story glass window, and underneath him, Ed was truly golden for a moment as he thrashed and moaned. Later, curled up in the middle of his massive bed, made just to his liking, with Ed smiling against his chest and his golden hair spilling over the pillows, Ling held his prize in his arms. The Greed was curled up in his mind, sated, like a happy, full kitten, and for the first time in his eighteen years, he thought, There is nothing more in this world I want.

~
Ed came, and Ed went, however he pleased. He traveled so many places that he was soon fluent in Xingese and could boast that he'd been in more cities than Ling himself had visited. But no matter where he went, no matter what he studied, it was always just a matter of time before he would be back in the palace. Ling grew to look forward to these times and to resent the times in the middle.

Sometimes Ed stayed for a day, sometimes for a week. He traveled back to Amestris for his brother's wedding, and that was the longest he was away. The months stretched longer and longer, and Ling grew irritable and annoyed, and there was something he wanted again.

But then Ed appeared in his doorway, and his heart surged into his throat and he forgot that long stretch, that desert without Ed, and he was happy again. I want you were the words on his lips, but I need you were the words that were truth.

It was never supposed to be like this.

Ling kissed the skin of Ed's throat, pressing him back on the bed and unbuttoning those ridiculous buttons of his shirt. "Did your brother and lovely Winry appreciate the wedding gift?" he asked, lips against Ed's collarbone.

"Fuck," was his response. Ling loved to make Ed swear like that. No matter what language they were speaking, Ed always swore in Amestrian. "They liked it. Winry said she was going to hang it up in the shop."

Ed's skin was tan, still lighter than Ling's own, but darker than normal, and his hair was lighter. He had traveled outside, through the desert this time. The train line that Ling was trying to reinstate was taking an inordinate amount of time since the tracks got buried so easily. But that didn't matter now. Ed was a bronzed god in his bed, taking and giving all in one.

It was never supposed to be like this. Ling wasn't supposed to wait like this. He wasn't supposed to spend their time apart pining, and their time together in paradise.

In the beginning, it had been about lust for the both of them. But the days came and went, and Ed didn't pack his suitcase and say, "I'm heading north for a bit. Maybe I'll come back," like he always did, and Ling knew it wasn't lust anymore. When had it changed? Yesterday, he had felt the same. Last week, he had felt the same as well. How long ago had it been since things were so easy? Had it been last month? Last year?

And it occurred to him then, maybe it had never been lust in the first place.

~
That was when the visits started getting longer and the excursions away from the palace got shorter. Ed blamed it on frequent headaches when he traveled, but that was diagnosed as nothing more than myopia and a pair of reading glasses fixed the problem quite effectively. And still, Ed's travels did not resume like they had.

It wasn't because of Ling, though; Ed always had his excuses. First, it was the bed. Ed loved Ling's bed. Then it was Ran Fan-she was due soon, and he wanted to meet the kid right away. Then he had found something in Ling's extensive library that required him to hole himself up amid the books-fuck the librarian, he told Ling-and do nothing but read for more than a week.

Al and Winry visited once while the railroad was actually working, their last trip before the baby, was what Winry told Ling, one hand on her gravid belly. She smiled at Ed's bemusement as she moved his hands around her bump, and Ed was adorably unsettled by the movement he felt. When they left, they told Ed to visit when the baby came, and Ed said that he would if the trains were working still at that point, and everyone laughed. Ling thought he might surreptitiously cut the funding to the railroad, but that wasn't fair, and he didn't do it.

As it stood, a sandstorm took out the lines rather effectively with no help on Ling's part, and Ed crossed the desert on a horse anyway.

Ed did not come back for a very long time, that time.

Ling coped first by throwing himself into his work. When he didn't have any time to think, he didn't have any time to miss that stupid, beautiful man. That was when Ed invaded his dreams, and he closed his eyes and saw nothing but gold. He took a few suitors, but no one held his interest for very long. He was lonely, and he longed for something. He didn't like that feeling.

He thought about ways to get Ed to come back, and he thought of ways to get Ed to stay. But he knew he couldn't implement anything; Ed's happiness depended on his mobility, his freedom. To take that away would be to destroy the most beautiful part of him. It would be like putting a songbird in a cage, only to have it never sing again. Ling simply had to wait for Ed to come back. Then, he would have to make sure Ed never wanted to leave again. If he wanted to stay, then he would keep singing.

Politics grew unstable, and Ling's spies informed him that one of his estranged brothers was stirring up trouble, clearly trying to challenge Ling's seat of power. Since his brothers could no longer kill him, it would make sense that they were at least trying to get him off the throne. Ling dealt with this discreetly, sending his own people into the crowd to remind them the good of what he had changed. He made an effort to hear more common complaints, and took more time to deal with common problems. And he still missed Ed every single day.

He knew he was being melodramatic when he wondered if Ed was ever coming back. Surely he wouldn't have left his favorite pair of gloves here or that book he had wanted to read if he didn't figure on returning. His jacket was hanging on the post of Ling's bed where he had left it before his trip.

He knew he was being melodramatic, but he did it anyway.

~
Ed did come back eventually, of course. Once again, he was tan and golden, looking older than Ling remembered him, and he laughed and showed Ling pictures of the baby. Ling didn't care about the baby. He only cared about Ed.

They drank that night away, until they fell out of their chairs and just laid on the ground, laughing. It was nice, and it was perfect, and then Ed went and ruined it. He turned his head toward Ling, and he smiled. "I missed it here."

"I missed you," Ling told him. He leaned over to kiss Ed, but Ed pulled away.

"Do you think," he asked, turning his head toward the ceiling again and looking at nothing, "that somebody can have two homes?" When Ling didn't respond for a minute, he continued. "Al wanted me to stay there with them, get a little place in Rush Valley, whatever. I thought about it for a while. But I can't just stay there."

"And you can't just stay here," Ling supplied quietly.

"Yeah."

Ling rolled over, and he crawled over to where Ed was lying, spreading himself over Ed's chest. Ed had grown in these past years; not taller, but broader in his shoulders, thicker in his chest. Older. More mature. Ling wasn't sure if it suited him or not. He rested his chin on Ed's collarbone and looked down at him. "You can have as many homes as you want to, Ed, just as long as one of them is with me," he finally said.

It broke his heart a little bit to say so.

"You're such a goddamn sap." Ed made a face at him.

"Well, I'm drunk. But I mean it." Ling leaned up and kissed Ed on the mouth. He didn't want to hear a reply to that. He didn't want Ed to ever leave again. And he didn't know how to express that.

His hands worked their way up Ed's shirt, pushing the fabric up above his stomach. He kissed Ed up his abdomen, leaving a smooth trail of saliva up from his navel. Ed wriggled and mumbled things under his breath, one hand coming up to touch Ling's head.

"Shouldn't do this here," Ed stated.

"Why not?" Ling lifted his head, black meeting with golden yellow. "It's my room do with as I please. This entire palace is mine."

"Sure, but..." He broke off to yawn. "...there are other factors to consider here, you know. People. Walking around and shit. They have every right to come in here, you know."

Ling laughed and pulled Ed's shirt back down. "Fine, fine. Let's go continue this where there are no people walking around and shit," he suggested, pulling himself dizzily upright and then doing the same for the other.

It took them an inordinate amount of time and some aid by the Imperial guard to get back to the royal chambers. When they made it, Ed saw the bed, made a happy cry, and made a beeline for it, barely stopping to pull off his boots. Ling's undressing was much more in depth but no less hasty. He left his robes in a royal heap on the floor, stripping down to nothing before joining his lover in the depths of the most amazing bed in Xing.

Ed was already asleep by the time Ling made it to his side. "Mmm, no fair, Sir Alchemist," Ling mumbled, nuzzling Ed's neck in search of a response. There was none. "You owe me one in the morning." They wouldn't feel up to it in the morning, Ling was sure of this.

The only response he received was a snuffling snort from Ed. This drew a smile out of Ling.

"I wish you wouldn't travel all the time," Ling told him gently. "I miss you when you do. I understand you need to visit your brother, I really do. But sometimes I feel like chaining you to my bed so you could never leave again. I wouldn't do that, of course. I love you too much."

Ed sighed into his pillow, and it almost seemed like he had a smile on his face. Ling pressed himself up against his back, tucked his chin on Ed's shoulder, and closed his eyes.

In his sleep, Ed mumbled, "Love you too," and for a moment, all was right in the world. Ling could forgive Ed for wanting to have two homes, because right now, he was holding Ed, his most prized possession, in his arms, and it wasn't hard to pretend that he never had to let go.

~
It didn't last.

Ever since Ed had gotten back, he'd taken a shine to Ran Fan's daughter, Jian. On her third birthday, she danced with her 'uncle' Ed, standing on his feet as he laughed and walked in circles. Ran Fan didn't even mind, though her eyes were sharp on her daughter and her hand was protective over her taut belly as she was expecting her second in a few months.

It was then that the Greed inside Ling roared to life again, settling in his stomach like a pit of unyielding lead and refusing to be dissuaded, as he suddenly wanted something that he knew he could never have. It was something he had given up along with his mortality, and the trade off had been worth it, but...

Ling wanted a family. More than that-Ling wanted a child. A child that was his.

He asked Ed that evening if he had ever wanted children. "Sure," Ed replied easily. "Always figured I'd have one or two. But then I got stuck with you." His voice was teasing.

Even before he mentioned it, Ling knew Ed wouldn't agree. It wasn't quite the same anyway. "We could adopt."

"And who would raise it? Between my research and your job, the kid would never see either of us," Ed answered. "What do you need a kid for? I thought you were going to live forever."

"I am," Ling responded quietly. "I know I can't have any of my own. But I want..."

"Yes, you want. You'd think you would be used to wanting by now."

Part of Ling was angry. Part of him wanted to argue the point that he hadn't a choice, that the homunculus had been forced onto him...but he already knew what Ed would say. Ed would calmly point out that he'd accepted, he'd dealt with it, and he'd never even fought it. Besides, Greed had given Ling more than he had taken away. Right?

And so instead of getting angry, Ling laughed. It really was ridiculous; as the Emperor, he got what he wanted. He had Ed; he had his nation. And still, the Greed in his belly was coiled like a beast, waiting to snap up whatever offered and never be sated. He really ought to be used to it by now.

"I'm used to getting what I want," he corrected and leaned in, nibbling on Ed's neck.

"Well, you're not having what you want this time," Ed replied, brushing Ling away. "Unless you want to help me pack."

"Pack?" The Greed within him snapped further to life, flooding his veins with desire, with possession. "Where are you going?"

"South. Got a lead on my project."

Ed had a mysterious "project" that he had been working on for the last five years. He wouldn't tell Ling anything about it, except that he was working on it for Ling's sake. Ling didn't want or need Ed to work on anything for his sake. He wanted and needed Ed to stay in the palace.

It was Greed, then, that made him angry. It was Greed that pulsed in his veins, in the tattoo on the back of his hand. It was Greed that made him grasp Ed's wrists and yank him forward, so they were chest to chest, Ed looking up and he looking down.

"I don't want you to go."

Ed didn't flinch. He glared up at Ling, that fiery temper building up in his gaze. "Too fucking bad," he replied lowly. "Let go of my hands."

It was Greed that made him hold on tighter, until he could feel the bearings straining in Ed's automail wrist.

"I'm not your play thing. I'm not your possession. I'm not your minion anymore for you to do with what you please," Ed hissed. "Fuck. And you wonder what makes me leave."

And that did it. With a start, Ling released Ed's hands and took a startled step back. He was appalled for a moment at how much control he had lost. It was something he hadn't done in years, and certainly not to Ed of all people.

"Am I talking to Ling again?" Ed asked, rubbing his flesh wrist with a frown on his face.

"Yes." Ling frowned and looked away, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry, Ed. I lost control."

"Work on that while I'm gone." The door slammed behind him.

~
Ran Fan's second daughter was born at the same time the political uprising was at its worst. She apologized to him three times for her inability to help and vowed to be out again as soon as she could walk. Ling forbade her from leaving the palace for six weeks, and he knew as he said it she would not listen to him.

Ling had grown complacent in his palace. He had grown complacent with Ed, and with his country. He would be complacent no longer; he would own these things fully and utterly, like he had ten years ago.

The Imperial guard pushed back the rioters from the palace, and it soon became apparent that the only solution to the problem was to remove the would-be usurper from his position of relative power at the head of the uprising. Ling knew which sibling of his it was. He even knew where his brother was staying, how well protected he was, and what it would take to remove him.

Ran Fan offered to do it. Ling told her no.

But Ran Fan was the head of his guard. Ran Fan knew all the intelligence on the location of their problem. She knew more than Ling did, in all likelihood. She was in charge of who went where. And when the third party she had sent out did not return, she appealed to Ling again.

"My lord, three times we have failed. What we need is a single warrior with considerable strength and skill to infiltrate his hideout," she told him. "I have the capabilities to do so."

"You have a four week old child to care for," Ling told her.

"I have a strong husband. He takes excellent care of our children."

"Send another party."

"I will not waste resources on a fruitless mission. I will not send anyone incapable of doing the job. I trust no one else with the speed and precision needed to accomplish this duty, my lord. I would not ask if I felt I was not up to the task."

"Then I will go." His voice was insistent.

"My lord." She shook her head slowly. "I know you cannot feel it yourself, but your chi...with the stone, I can feel you from a mile away. Your brother will as well."

Ling was supposed to have absolute power of his nation. He had known this was not fact the first time Ran Fan had questioned his tactics and the first time Ed had refused him. It was with the knowledge that nothing he said would make a difference to her that he acquiesced.

She bowed low and thanked him, and then she was gone.

She was successful in her mission. The offending man had been killed, the riots had subsided, and peace was restored to his nation. Her body was returned to the palace by pallbearers, and she was to be buried with the highest honor possible for a woman of the guard.

Ling wasn't there when the guard honored her for the most noble of sacrifices. He was sitting in a dark room, explaining to a three and a half year old girl that her mother wasn't coming home.

~
It wasn't the first time Ling had lost.

It wasn't the first time that he had sat to the side, helpless, while the last bit of life seeped out of someone he had loved.

He had accepted this power into his body for a reason, and it had been a greedy reason as much as it had been a selfless reason. He had accepted Greed because he was tired of sacrifices. He had accepted Greed for the power that went along with it. He had accepted Greed because he was fit to protect his people. He had accepted Greed so that he could become an Emperor. He had accepted Greed because he had finally understood the cost of what he was doing, and he wasn't about to let anyone else pay that price.

For the first time, Ling questioned his motives. He questioned himself and his drive for survival that had seemed so powerful at the time. He questioned what his life would be like if he hadn't accepted Greed. Would he be the Emperor? Probably not. Would Ran Fan and Fuu be dead? Probably not.

If he couldn't use this power to protect his subjects, what use was it?

Should he have gone in her place? He, who was invincible to physical threats, who could not be killed permanently without excessive force? He, who would have been able to deflect the blow that had finally killed her, just as her blade had sunk home?

There were a million reasons as to why that would have never been an acceptable alternative. But he didn't care about that anymore.

She had been interred in a mausoleum according to the ancient traditions that honored a warrior to the fullest. It was on the palace grounds, so that her spirit would never be far from the leader she had sacrificed herself to protect, and that was where Ling stood. The stonework was intricate, covered in beautiful calligraphy and carvings, pictures embossed to tell the story of the Great Warrior whom every warrior strived to become. Ling knew the story from memory, and he followed along with it, tracing his fingers over the patterns on the stone.

Fuu had not been buried here, because he had died in Amestris. There had been no way to bring his body back with them when they had finally gone home. But he had made sure Fuu's name and his story had made it onto the stonework of the mausoleum. Ran Fan's name was below his. Her name was freshly carved, free of wear.

That was where Ed found him.

He didn't say a word, just made his way through the wild flowers and ivy until he was at Ling's side. Ling looked at him, and he looked at Ling, and for a moment, nothing needed to be said. Ling felt as though his arms and legs were made of lead, and he was too heavy to move properly. When Ed hugged him, collapsed down onto Ed's shoulder from the leaden weight in his limbs.

"My family," he said, and then he couldn't say anymore. The tears came, unbidden, and he sobbed into Ed's shoulder.

"I know," Ed whispered, and Ling understood. Ed knew what it was like to lose everything, after all, to a nameless, faceless horror. He knew what it was like to watch his world fall apart. He knew what it was like to lose the most important thing in your life and have no one else to turn to.

Ran Fan had been his sister-not in blood, but in soul. She had grown up next to him, had learned with him, had gotten into trouble with him, had been punished with him. Ling couldn't remember a point in time when she had not been a part of his life. And that was the worst part somehow-he couldn't comprehend life without her presence, without a second shadow just behind him. He couldn't feel her anymore, and it was far more unsettling that it should have been.

He stayed there, locked in Ed's arms, as the sun went down. The graveyard was cast in splendor; the wild flowers and ivy lit up with brilliant oranges and reds from the sun. The birds called, twittering and chirping and hopping along the mausoleum walls. The stone path was overgrown and mossy underfoot, and the old poplar trees waved their branches in a gentle breeze. Ling was blind and deaf to it all; all he could hear was Ed's heartbeat, all he could see was her face.

Ling was the man who had everything. He had money and power, fame and fortune, immortal life. His allies respected him, and his enemies feared him.

But never was there a man more vulnerable than he was in that moment.

"Promise me you'll never leave," he whispered into Ed's neck.

"You're a foolish man," Ed answered, but he didn't leave either.

~
Ling dreamed.

He was dressed in fancy Amestrian garb, shiny shoes and coal black tuxedo, complete with tails and a blue silk bowtie. Ran Fan was with him, a ghost in his arms, clothed in the same shade of blue. Her lips were dark and her face was pale, and her arm was graceful and delicate on his shoulder. He took her opposite hand and whirled her around, the smooth, pale stone of the floor stretching out beneath their feet. From somewhere, there was music, and they danced.

As they moved across the dance floor, he became aware of the faces. They were watching them from the side of the vast room they were in, silent and passive, curious. They were faces he knew; the face of his mother, of Ed, of his comrades in Amestris, of Greed, of Fuu. And then they were not, but he wasn't aware of the transition, not entirely.

The dance quickened, and Ling whirled Ran Fan around with well-practiced perfection. She responded perfectly until she was out of his hands, and then she stumbled, turned her ankle, and fell to the ground in a heap.

That was when the faces moved, shifting upward in an ominous motion too uniform to be from separate creatures. He understood a split second later when Envy's monstrous head turned to look at him, greasy black hair cascading from his head in rivulets, eyes made up of a thousand more eyes inside, wide, square teeth smiling widely at him.

This was Envy's flank, filled with the faces of his souls (the same souls that preserved Ling's immortal body). He laughed, his head thrown back and his voice echoing on the non-existent walls. And then his mouth was opened, and his tongue was lowered, more people twisted together, howling, moaning, screaming. Their hands grabbed at Ran Fan's dress and lifted her up, enclosing her in their arms, and she didn't fight. She didn't open her eyes as she was dragged upwards into Envy's waiting mouth.

Ling watched as she was swallowed whole, his feet mired in the sea of blood around his ankles that hadn't been there just a moment ago, and Envy grinned at him. "Thanks for the snack, little brother."

~
Ling dreamed.

He was in history class from his youth, learning the names of his ancestors, dating back to the birth of the country. He sat on his knees, on a pillow made for a child when he was a full grown adult. The desk in front of him was too low and it hurt his neck to look down so far.

Ran Fan was beside him, except it was Ran Fan from twenty years ago. She wore a delicate red silk tunic he had never known her in, but then, she had taken her lessons in a different area than he had, from different teachers. Her hands were clasped together on her lap and her eyes looked forward to the front of the room, where the history Master sat.

And then Ling himself was a child too, and he leaned over and whispered to her, "This is a dumb story. I'm going to pretend to be sick so we can get out of here early."

"Listen. I like the ending of this one." She did not look at him to reply.

"...and even though the immortal Emperor thought he had everything, it turned out that what he had truly wanted was something he could not have. And now, although young in body, the Emperor was very old, and everyone he had ever loved had died many years ago." The Master's voice had taken on a strange quality as he spoke, captivating Ling's attention. "There was only one thing that the Emperor wanted now. Does anyone remember what it is? Young Yao?"

And Ling stood up next to his desk and bowed to the Master, and suddenly, he was himself again, fifteen in body and thirty in heart. He didn't know the answer. He didn't know the story.

There was a quiet sigh from beside him, and Ran Fan picked up her scrolls from her desk. She tucked them carefully under her arm and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, young Yao," the Master said from the front of the room. "I cannot allow you to sit with Ran Fan if you won't do your lessons."

Ran Fan frowned at him, and then walked out of the room.

~
Ed didn't leave anymore after that, not for a very long time, and Ling was unable to express his gratitude. The days were all right; he was busy from dawn until dusk, rebuilding his nation in the wake of a serious rebellion, arranging his guard to make up for its loss, and still making time for his people. The nights were not all right; that was when the dreams came.

But Ed was always there when he woke up, shushing him gently and stroking his hair and whispering to him that it would be all right.

It was like when Fuu died, but it wasn't at the same time. That trip through the desert on the way back home to Xing had been the toughest journey in Ling's life. They had traveled at night because of Ran Fan's automail, and the pain she had experienced from it had put her into terrible deliriums, where blood had seeped up around her port and burns scored her chest.

It had been, more evidently than before, Ling's duty to protect her. He had slathered healing aloes onto her burns, had sacrificed his water canteen to pour over her bloody shoulder, had created a shadow for her to sleep in when the sun was too hot. He had grieved for Fuu when she had slept her fitful slumber, had sat with his back to hers and rested his forehead against his knees, and had taken comfort in the sound of her breathing.

But mostly, he was taking care of Ran Fan, then.

Coping with Fuu's death had been more sharing the loss rather than having it echo resoundingly through his own mind. There was nothing to dull the pain, no one to share the burden with; even though Ed tried, he had never known or loved Ran Fan the way Ling had.

But still, Ed tried. And Ling was grateful.

Ling sensed that there was some difficulties for Ed during this time; Al and Winry had another baby, and Ed didn't leave. He wasn't present for any of the phone calls, but his aids mentioned hours long conversations that Ed would end by slamming down the phone with an ending phrase such as, "You don't understand."

Ling didn't pry, and Ed didn't offer anything on the matter. But when Al and Winry finally braved the trains to come visit, once the baby was a year old, Ling greeted them rather formally. As he turned away, he caught a glimpse of Al's face with a clear expression of understanding, and worse, pity. Whatever Al hadn't understood over the phone, he understood now.

Whatever it was wasn't evident until a month later, when he accompanied them to the train station and watched woodenly as Ed hugged his brother and sister-in-law, kissed his niece and his nephew, and waved as the train pulled out of the station. Winry looked out the train window at Ling, and there was sadness and confusion in her eyes.

Almost unconsciously, the Greed coiled up in his belly again, and he gritted his teeth and stared after the train, and he found himself ridiculously longing for a family like that. His family was gone, now. That was something he'd accepted when Greed had entered his body all those years ago. He would outlive his family. He would outlive anyone he cared for. But for the good of his country, he had accepted that burden. And maybe for the good of his greedy heart.

As Ed put his hand on Ling's arm and walked with him back toward the palace, Ling glanced back over his shoulder for a moment. "Your lovely sister-in-law seemed a little confused as the train pulled out," he remarked conversationally.

Ed's hand tightened on his arm, just slightly. "Of course she did. You didn't hug her goodbye," he answered quietly. "You always hug her goodbye."

It occurred to Ling that he had barely spoken to either Al or Winry while they had visited. It hadn't seemed like a month visit because Ling had always found something to do. He hadn't been sure if he'd been avoiding them or if he was really just busy, but Ed had just answered that question for him. He remembered his lackluster greeting, how it had differed from his youth when he would have openly embraced them both, would have played with the children.

He had pushed everyone out, he realized with a start. After Ran Fan's death had torn him apart so completely, the knowledge that he would live longer than everyone around him had frightened him, and he had pushed everyone out. Maybe not consciously, but it was true. Ed was all that remained, a strong, steady presence in his bed each night.

And suddenly Ling understood. He understood why Ed stayed, even when his family was going through the important transition of a new baby, why he had had shouting matches with Al on the phone about whether or not he could visit, why Al and Winry had eventually just come to them instead of Ed traveling, why Ed didn't travel so much anymore at all.

It was for Ling's sake. All of it was for Ling's sake.

He thought back to that time in his life where he had wished nothing more than for Ed to stay all the time, to never leave him waiting again. But it didn't matter now, did it? Because no matter what, Ed would be here when Ling needed him.

~
Ling was celebrating his fifteenth birthday for the twenty-third time when Ed decided they were going on a vacation.

In his late thirties, Edward Elric was a beautiful man. The lines of age hadn't touched him yet; his face was free of wrinkles and his hair as brilliant gold as ever. His only real sign of aging was the increasing amount of time he spent wearing his glasses. As the years wore on, he wore them more and more, but they hardly diminished his looks. Ling actually liked the glasses; rather, he liked removing them and then kissing Ed just behind the ear while he was trying to read or something.

The Emperor's birthday was a national holiday, and the palace was bustling with activity for the entire week of the event. Ed routinely ignored this, declaring that Ling shouldn't get to celebrate birthdays anymore, and that anyone conceited enough to declare his birthday a national holiday just for the hell of it didn't deserve a party anyway. When Ling argued that his predecessors had all done the same thing, Ed made it clear that he wasn't referring only to Ling.

But this year, Ed had declared that it was time for a vacation. "You haven't left the Imperial City in like five years," he declared, propped up on one elbow on the bed as he paged through some book.

"Why should I," Ling had asked, smirking devilishly as he stole Ed's book and took its place, "when I have everything I need right here?"

"You're going to need a full body cast if you don't give that back," Ed told him, quite seriously.

Instead of complying, Ling laughed and held the book up over his head, peering at it. "What is this?" he asks curiously. "Some sort of a travel book?"

"Something like that." Ed shrugged, attempting to grab it back, but Ling held it to the side, just out of the smaller man's reach. "I'm sick of this stuffy old palace. We should go away somewhere or something. Take the girls along. Give that back, asshole."

The girls Ed referred to were, of course, Ran Fan's daughters, whom Ed had all but adopted, much to their father's chagrin. Jian, who was nearing twelve years old, was very seriously following in her mother's footsteps. It was her dream to become the Emperor's next guard, and her demeanor and dedication reminded Ling of her mother, sometimes painfully so. She was at the top in her martial arts classes and carried the inborn air of a protector.

Little eight year old Lihua, however, had taken after her father in some ways. She was quiet like her sister, but less inclined to be a protector. Ed was apprenticing her in both eastern and western alchemy, and while she still lacked some of the mechanics and strengths, her attention to detail was astounding. She might only be able to transmute a wooden sparrow where Ed could make an eagle without any extended effort, but her sparrow showed each feather, each talon, each nuance lovingly crafted from her circles.

Ed loved both of the girls dearly, and Ling did not feel differently. His relationship with them was far different from Ed's-despite his casual demeanor around them, he was still the Emperor, and their father still had instilled in them a healthy respect of Ling. It made Ling a little bit sad sometimes; this was the closest to a family he would ever have, and Ed seemed to have the monopoly on that too. Ling couldn't quite be jealous. It was Ed's connection that afforded him as much time with them as he got.

"I am sure the girls would be delighted to be free from their lessons for a while," Ling mused. "Their father, on the other hand, might not be so delight-oof."

Ed was in the process of using his automail arm to climb on top of Ling, causing the as much pain as possible as he rescued his stolen book. Ling pushed him off and rubbed his chest, glowering at Ed. Ed gave him a look that clearly explained that Ling should not do stupid things if he wants to avoid being injured. Ling was familiar with this look.

"Well, we can just go ourselves too, you know," Ed decided, once again lying on his back with the book out over his head.

"Where is it that we are going?" Ling asked, thinking back. Somehow, he had a vague memory of telling Ed he would bring him somewhere, but where to and why were not registering just yet. "Didn't I promise to take you somewhere?"

"What? When?" Ed looked curiously over at Ling, his glasses making his eyes look a touch bigger than they actually were.

It finally clicked. "When you first came. You hated the boat, right?"

"Ugh. Yeah."

"I said I'd take you to the sea-just to see it, not to ride a boat in it," Ling quickly clarified when Ed made a terrible face to let Ling know what he thought of the idea. "We'll go to the eastern sea. I haven't been there in ages. It'll be nice this time of year."

It became pretty clear that Ling had no idea what the sea was like any time of year when they finally managed to get there the month following. The weather was stormy, and they couldn't actually get near the beach due to the massive waves. Ed insisted he was all right with that-he couldn't swim with two metal limbs anyway, right?

And in the end, it was the cliffs that enamored Ed the most. The cliffs overlooking the eastern sea, barely a day's drive outside of the capital city, were tall and furious, beaten down by wave after wave of water slamming into their sides. The end result was a masterpiece of rock, stained pale by the salt and the sun, ragged from erosion, and simply put, awe-inspiring.

The sun was setting behind Ed as he stared out in awe over the rocks and the waves. The east had gone dark already, and the evening star was showing in the far distance. Ed hadn't cut his hair in ages because Ling liked it long, and now it was dancing in the wind almost as though it was alive. When Ed turned to look at Ling, there was such wonder in the grin on his face that it made him look twenty years younger. It was a breathtaking view, honestly; Ed was as beautiful as he had been nearly twenty-five years ago when Ling had first met him.

"This is fucking amazing," Ed murmured, sweeping a metal arm about him in a wide circle to indicate the sea.

Ling agreed, but the landscape wasn't what he was looking at.

He stepped forward, until he was behind Ed, and he wrapped his arms around the other man's waist. He lowered his face to Ed's level, pressing them together, cheek to cheek. Ed turned his head then, so that he could press his lips to Ling's cheek, and Ling just smiled, adjusting his position so that he could turn his head and kiss Ed on the mouth. Ed's hand came up and held the back of Ling's head in place, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the crash of the waves against the rock.

"This is perfect," Ed whispered, golden eyes turning from Ling's face again to scan the landscape which they were a part of.

Ling looked at his lover, at his amazing, beloved companion, his best friend and his one and only, and he knew he was the luckiest man alive. There was nothing about Ed that he didn't love, that he wanted to change. Well, that wasn't strictly true, but in this moment, at the top of the cliff overlooking everything and nothing, Ling couldn't remember the bad.

He smiled, nuzzling Ed's cheek just a touch. "I know."

And from that day forward, the cliffs of the eastern sea would always remind him of Ed.

~
They traveled to the ocean a few more times before Ed's travels again came to a halt around his forty-fifth birthday. Ling didn't notice for a couple of years (when it became evident that Ed was continually not traveling), and when he did, he thought little of it. Ed still spent ungodly amounts of time in the library, still single-mindedly researching his mysterious project, and Ling figured he had gotten enough materials to finish it.

He didn't have any reason to think otherwise until one day, he happened to intercept Ed paying off a servant to retrieve something for him. He handed the servant a long list of Xingese characters that Ling couldn't read from where he was, and he only caught the tail end of the conversation.

"...any books on these subjects. Any of them, I don't care how inane they seem," Ed was saying.

"Yes, sir," the servant bowed.

Ling waited until the servant had scurried off, and then Ed turned to walk away, only to be confronted by the Emperor. "Too busy to hit the library yourself?" Ling asked, somewhat amused by the idea of Ed using his servants to retrieve books for him. Ed had adapted very quickly to not having to do his own laundry or cooking, but he'd never really gotten used to the idea of ordering servants around.

"What? No, I sent that guy to the library in Chiayi," Ed confessed, frowning a little.

Chiayi was a town far north of the Imperial city, a day out on the train lines. It was then that Ling thought about the last time Ed had left the city, more than a year ago now. And he was suddenly confused. If Ed didn't have the materials for his research, why had he stopped traveling?

"That was quite the list you gave him," Ling pointed out. That implied that Ed either had a lot more research to do, or that he didn't expect the information he needed to be in any one book. And both of those conclusions suggested that it would have been far simpler for Ed himself to have traveled to Chiayi himself and done the research there. "Why didn't you just go yourself?"

"Well, I don't know." Ed wasn't looking at him. "I'm too old to be gallivanting around the countryside."

"Too old?" Ling echoed, frowning as though the idea of that never occurred to him. And really, it hadn't. Why would it? Ed was one of those people who retained his youth far past when he should have. He always looked and acted younger than he was. And Ling, of course, didn't have to worry about any of that aging stuff.

Ed gave Ling a stricken look. "I'm going gray," he said pathetically, his face easily betraying exactly what he thought that meant.

It was a lie, in exact meaning, if not in spirit. Ling had noticed the strands of off-colored hair at Ed's temples for the first time only last week, but they weren't gray by any means. Ling had been rather amused, actually; Ed's golden hair was turning silver. It was somehow appropriate.

"It makes you look dignified," Ling lied. In truth, it was just cute, like every other part of Ed, and it was also barely noticeable. "Why does having graying hair make you unable to travel?"

Ed glowered at him. "It does not make me look dignified, you stupid asshole, it makes me look old. You're supposed to reassure me and tell me it's my imagination or something," he protested.

"At least you're not going bald?" Ling laughed and hopped backwards to avoid Ed's fist.

~
There were many changes in Ed, changes that Ling didn't always notice right away. There were crinkles at the edges of Ed's eyes, at the corners of his mouth. There was a weariness in him that had never been evident in his youth. There was a slight limp in his step, and Ling couldn't tell if it was just a part of his gait he'd never actively noticed before or if this was a new behavior. There was a bottle of large, oblong painkillers in the top drawer of his nightstand. There was, of course, the small smattering of silver in his perfect golden hair.

But none of that explained why Ed didn't travel any longer. When Ling managed to push him about it, without allowing Ed to change the subject or side-step the question (when had he gotten so good at that?), Ed would only say that he was simply tired.

Tired of traveling, perhaps? Tired of moving about without a clear destination in mind? Ling didn't think so, not from the way Ed paced the palace corridors restlessly. He wanted to travel, that much was clear to Ling. But he wouldn't, and there was no better explanation than, "I'm getting too old."

Ling didn't force an answer, though. Ed would come to him when he was ready.

They received a letter from Al in that time, despite the fact that Ed talked to him on the telephone almost weekly. Ed tore it open and put on his glasses and took the Amestrian script in eagerly one day over dinner. And then he laughed and held the letter out for Ling to see.

"Sara is getting married," he announced cheerfully. "Al is flipping a nut."

Sara was Al and Winry's daughter, and the last time Ling had seen her in person, she had been about six years old. Ling knew, in theory, that she was just younger than twenty-year old Jian, now a loyal member of Ling's personal guard, but his mind refused to process the information that she was old enough to be married, and that Al (and thereby Ed) was getting old enough to be a grandfather.

Ed kept reading the letter, his smile faltering slightly at one point but brightening up again by the end. "They invited me to the ceremony. There's a note saying you're welcome too, but you'll have to sneak out because they were hoping for a relatively small service," he read, sounding amused. But there was something else in his voice, something just at the edge that Ling couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I will send my regards with you," Ling laughed. "I'm fairly certain I would be missed."

Without looking up, Ed added, "Maybe I'll stay home too."

This startled Ling, really and truly. Ed was clearly restless, stuck inside the palace nearly all the time, and this was an opportunity to visit the brother he sorely missed. Ling no longer worried he wouldn't come back to Xing, and he would have gladly accompanied Ed if he could have.

"Why would you do that?" Ling asked quietly, all of his attention riveted on Ed now. If whatever was keeping Ed in the palace was severe enough to keep him from his only niece's wedding, then Ling figured he had a right to know.

Ed looked him in the eye with a grim sort of intensity, and Ling understood that he was finally going to hear it, straight out of Ed's mouth. "Can you really not tell?" he inquired, his voice level and low.

Ling stared at him, an unnatural fear building up in his chest.

"My back," Ed explained. "And my hip. I can't travel because I can't ride trains or horses. I can't get in and out of cars. I've had arthritis for ten years from this goddamn automail. It's just...finally gotten the better of me."

Ling was taken aback. Certainly, he had known Ed had had some problems with pain from the automail; he had known that years ago. But he had had no idea it had escalated so far that Ed was a virtual prisoner in the palace. Ed, his beautiful, free Ed, trapped like a bird in a golden cage-the very thing Ling had wanted to avoid so many years before.

"You've talked to the healers about this, haven't you?" was all that Ling managed to get out.

"Yeah. Of course I have. You think I take those enormous horse pills every night for fun?" Ed asked, breaking eye contact. "I take them so I can sleep. I can't believe you never noticed."

"Of course I noticed. I just never realized..."

"We can't all have perfect, young bodies forever," Ed snapped suddenly, slamming his hands down on the table hard enough to upset his drink. "There's nothing more anyone can do, you understand? That's why I don't fucking talk about it. It's going to be like this for the rest of my life."

Ling went silent at this outburst. It was obviously something that had been building up for a long while, and it hurt to think that Ed hadn't shared this with him. It hurt more to realize that he had been sitting aside, waiting for Ed to come to him, while Ed had suffered silently for ten years. Ten years. Ling understood why Ed was yelling. Ling didn't blame him at all.

Traveling, moving around-that was who Ed was, fundamentally. He hadn't sat still for more than thirty years, and suddenly, that was all taken away from him. He couldn't leave, not without substantial amounts of pain, pain that would be with him for the rest of his life. It was no wonder Ed was upset.

But that didn't mean there was nothing that Ling could do about it. The servants hadn't approached the table to clean up the spilled glass, because it was clear that the intrusion would not be a welcome one. So Ling took his napkin and put it on the spreading mess, and he looked up at Ed.

"You could use my stone," he said quietly. "You could heal yourself."

Ed was still glaring at him. "Not much use when the damage will just repeat itself in a couple of years," he said coolly.

"Then take more. Take half of it. You can stay here with me, forever," Ling said suddenly. The Greed within was coiled up, waiting to strike, like always, when Ling found something new that he wanted; this was it. He wanted Ed. He wanted Ed forever. But that really wasn't new at all, was it?

When Ed looked up at him, it was with the eyes of an old man. For a moment, he looked every bit of his forty-eight years, and more. Ling could see the wrinkles on his skin, the smile lines, the single calloused hand, the way his muscles had started to sag, just a little. Ed had gotten old while Ling had watched, and he hadn't even noticed.

"Right, like you want me at this age forever," Ed snorted in response.

"You would have punched me in the face if I had offered it twenty years ago," Ling answered.

There was another moment of silence as Ed considered his words. "Yeah. I probably should now, too, but it's a bit of effort to get up," he replied.

Ling's mouth twitched slightly. "Maybe that's why I waited."

A servant had braved the scene to clean up the mess on the table, and Ed focused on him instead of on Ling. He wasn't scowling anymore, at least. "You're such an asshole," he commented, looking down at the letter again.

"Is there anything we could do to make the train more comfortable for you?" Ling asked, trying to think of a way this would be more tolerable to Ed.

"Doubt it. I would have figured something out by now, don't you think?"

Ling had to admit, he was probably right. But that didn't mean Ling couldn't try. He began to try and concoct an idea, something that Ed's brilliant and just a little too practical mind would never come up with. Nothing came immediately to mind. A car would probably be the most comfortable way to ride, but not for that distance, and the roads didn't run through the desert anyway. On a train, Ed would be able to get up and move around, but trains were so bumpy that he'd never have a chance to get comfortable, even in the Emperor's private car.

The Emperor's private car...

With all the amenities of the Emperor's private car, and his healers and care and plush pillows and masseuses and hot water bottles, plus Ling's own delightful commentary about everything happening to distract him, Ed might just be able to travel. So rarely did Ed actually ever want something like this that Ling was delighted to go out of his way to make it happen. It could be like a birthday present, or something.

Of course, to use the Emperor's private car, one had to be accompanying the Emperor. But then, it had been a while since Ling had been to Amestris. He might not be able to go to the wedding, but he could certainly drop Ed off at the Rizenbul station, and then pick him up on his way back to Xing.

"When is the wedding?" Ling asked

Ed gave him a look. "Why's it matter?"

"Because I'm going to get you to Rizenbul, one way or another, that's why."

~
The dream was always the same.

Ling knew by now from just the frequency of it that he was dreaming as soon as his knees touched the pillow in front of the low table that served as a desk in a child's classroom. The pillows weren't always the same, the classroom was often in a different location, and his companions in class varied from time to time. Sometimes it was Ran Fan, sometimes Lihua or Jian; occasionally, it was Ed or even Fuu.

But one thing that never changed was the Master in the front of the room, aged and wise, with a long white beard and thin, spidery hands. He read from a scroll, unwound in his hands, so old that the paper was yellow and cracked. The story was the same too, as was Ling's impatience.

When he was awake, he didn't have the full awareness or clarity to remember the story in the dream, and when he was asleep, it seemed new and old at the same time, a story he knew but hadn't heard in many years. He never remembered the ending, almost like he had never known the ending. Maybe there wasn't an ending at all.

But time after time, dream after dream, the Master would call Ling's name and have him stand. He would ask the same question each time, and Ling would falter for an answer. The admonishment he received in turn for not knowing the answer was typically similar too. He would be chastised for not doing his homework, and his companion classmate would express disappointment and then leave.

It was damning to not know the answer, and when he woke up, the feelings of disappointment and frustration were fresh in his mind. He would lie there on his silk sheets and stare at the intricate carvings in his ceiling, and he would think.

What could the man who had everything possibly still want?

~
Ling did get Ed to Rizenbul, in time for the wedding.

It took an hour of massage and locating of pressure points to alleviate the pain before Ed could disembark the train, but he did so under his own power. Ling followed him out, much to the distress of his personal guard.

Rizenbul was beautiful and warm, flooding his senses with an overwhelming sense of simplicity and life. The grass extended for miles outside of the train station, even visible beyond the tiny town. This was the part of Amestris that Ling had missed, not the bustling cities filled with hurrying people or the stiff, uncomfortable decor of the Fuhrer's conference rooms.

Ling laughed and turned in a circle in the train station with his arms stretched out on either side of him, the few people actually there turning and watching him curiously. "Ah, the fresh scent...of..." Something not so nice had invaded his nose now, and he frowned a little.

"Cow shit," Ed provided, smirking a bit.

"That's it," Ling laughed.

There were a few cars in the parking lot, and out of one of them was emerging Al. He carried his age slightly better than Ed did, although he had more of that same silvering hair at his temples than Ed. He was grinning as he made his way up the platform and immediately embraced his brother upon reaching him. "Brother! I'm so glad you could make it," he gushed.

Ed was laughing, which was a good reaction-Ling was worried he'd still be sore. He probably was, actually, but Ling knew by now that Ed was good at hiding that. Al came and greeted Ling too, and Ling yanked him into a hug anyway. "It is wonderful to see you again, Al! I do regret I won't be attending your lovely daughter's wedding, but I have an important appointment with the head of the state. You understand, yes?"

"Oh, of course," Al replied, even though he had already known that. It made Ling a little sad that he couldn't go, honestly; he considered Al and Winry and their children to simply be an extension of his family, via Ed. Even though they had never exchanged vows or rings or any of that, Ed was Ling's and Ling was Ed's. It was just the way it was, and no ring or promise or ceremony was going to change that or make it more sacred.

It went against his greedy nature to belong to someone the way he did, but he couldn't stop it anymore than he could stop himself from loving Ed at all.

And then Ed was coming up to him, looking up at Ling's face as he grasped his forearm. "Thank you," he said quietly, "for this. I don't even..."

"Ed." Ling smiled at him. "I would do anything for you. You know that." He reached his hands up and touched Ed's face, smoothing the slight wrinkles there, and Ed was grinning up at him. The sunlight on his skin and the touch of Ling's hands and the smile, all these together, made him look ten, fifteen years younger than he was.

Ling didn't care that there were people on the platform, that Ed's brother was only a few feet away, that to the casual observer, they were a fifteen year old boy and a fifty year old man. Ling kissed Ed on the mouth, and Ed made a sound and then kissed him back.

"I miss you already," Ling said in Xingese, even though it wouldn't surprise him if Al could understand him.

"You haven't left yet," Ed reminded him. "You have to let go of me before you start missing me."

"I do not."

Ed closed his eyes as Ling started kissing him again, at the corners of his mouth and his eyes, wherever he could reach. "It's only two weeks."

"We'll see if you even remember to miss me," Ling joked. He released Ed, though, released him to his first home and to his brother and to his family. He sighed a little. "I love you, Ed."

"Yeah. I love you too, asshole."

Despite their words, Ed stood on the platform watching until Ling's train was far out of sight.

continue to Part 2