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batsutousaiTitle: Come What May
Series: Part one of Our Sinner's Redemption
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Darius/Edward Elric/Heinkel, pre-Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, spoilers for FMA:B ending, canon-typical violence, pile 'o OCs, survivor's guilt, angst, original character death, slow build (btwn Ed & Roy), referenced underage relationships, off-screen violence against women
Summary: After the Promised Day, with his alchemy still intact thanks to Hohenheim's sacrifice, Ed finds himself and his chimera team getting dragged into the shadowy world of military secrets in an attempt to keep Bradley's legacy from causing a civil war.
A/N: There is a side-story for this chapter, which can be found, as always, on Archive of Our Own or LiveJournal. As a reminder, you may wish to read the whole chapter first, to avoid any confusion.
Chapter Seven
-0-
Ed couldn't even pretend to be surprised when his spar with Mustang was the talk of breakfast. Most of the questions he was able to brush off with a laugh – including if there'd be another spar, because he honestly didn't know, though he kind of hoped so – but Lois sat down next to him, booting Omar down a seat, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, clearly intending to hold him in place until he explained: "What in god's name possessed you to punch a commanding officer?"
"He said–" Nick started.
"Shut up, Halberstadt," Lois interrupted. "I'm asking Elric."
Lois, Ed was fairly certain, was going to make a fantastic commanding officer (though maybe a bit too much like Hawkeye when she was displeased). Actually, he was fairly certain that all the command candidates were going to make great commanders, even Lawrence Wackett, who had bought into Bradley's good name and wouldn't be convinced otherwise. (There was always one idiot, but Ed had seen him watching out for his squad enough times to know that Wackett, at least, cared about the people under him, and idolising Bradley left him with a number of the homunculus' public traits that had suited a commander.)
The arm around Ed's shoulders shifted up, an obvious bid for a headlock, and he cleared his throat. "The bastard goaded me into it?" he offered, and it came out as more of a question because that was a damn weak defence and he knew it. Hadn't Parnall been spending the last two months trying to goad him into a response?
"So, my mum," Lisa Coanda commented, "invested in a leash for my brothers, since they've got this habit of wandering off while we're heading somewhere."
Ed opened his mouth to tell her where she could shove that idea, but Lois' hand wrapped around and covered his mouth. "Sadly," she said to Lisa, "I doubt a leash will help with this problem. Maybe a muzzle."
Ed picked up his fork and waved it threateningly in Lois' direction.
Lois huffed. "Ed, seriously, the fuck? You're not that careless."
Wasn't he, though? Could an argument be made that it was his squad that kept him in line? Or was he getting better at biting his tongue?
Ed set his fork back on his tray and pulled Lois' hand from his mouth to say the one thing he knew for certain: "Mustang's always let me get away with that shit." He glanced at her. "I've been in the military nearly five years, Lois; what possible reason could I have for my continued trouble with authority, save a CO who has never cared?"
Lois' expression was tight. "What if Parnall had been there?"
"He wasn't."
"But what if he was?"
Ed shook his head, let a mean little smile crawl across his face. "Oh, I'd pay good money to see him try to call me out when the ranking officer doesn't give a fuck." Because Ed was positive that Mustang wouldn't stand back and let the fucker punish Ed's squad because Ed'd let himself be goaded into punching the smug bastard's face.
Lois withdrew, clearly not sharing in his amusement.
"Be careful anyway," Taylor suggested, his burn scars pulled tight with concern. "Trapped animals tend to be twice as vicious."
Ed felt his amusement drain away, because didn't he know, better than any of them, exactly what humans could do when they were desperate? He clenched his right hand into a fist and gave a sharp nod, which seemed to be a sufficient response, for talk moved on to the lessons for the day.
Ed wasn't surprised when Taylor and Lois both joined him after dinner when he set off for the gym. He was even less surprised to find it almost as crowded as it usually was during the morning exercise period. Rolling his eyes, he went straight for his usual punching bag; it wasn't like he or Mustang had said they'd spar again. (Even if he sort of really wanted to.)
Mustang didn't show up until Ed was finishing fixing the punching bag for the last time, and the room going absolutely silent announced his presence.
Mustang, because he was a self-assured bastard, smirked and went straight for the weights, not even glancing in Ed's direction.
Ed snorted, gave himself a moment to consider his options, then shrugged and left. Much to, he was certain, the gathered disappointment of everyone in the gym. But he wasn't going to hang around and wait for Mustang to warm up, not when he could be taking a shower and ringing the Hugheses. Which it was sort of his day to do, so...
Mustang would understand, even if no one else did.
Mustang showed up late consistently for over a week, until the wanna-be spectators – including members of the fort staff – had finally given up and returned to their usual schedules. Only then did Mustang show up shortly after Ed, and when Ed finished putting the fixed punching bag up for the fourth time, he caught the bastard watching him. He raised an eyebrow at him and Mustang smirked in response, then glanced towards the empty mats where they should have sparred the first time, if Ed hadn't lost all sense and tried to punch him in the middle of the floor.
Ed took a moment to consider his workload for the evening; his classwork would be easy, but he had a package from Chris to go through. Not that he expected there to be anything particularly interesting in there – Al's next package wasn't due for at least another two weeks, and most of the information Darius and Heinkel were passing on, while useful in the long run, didn't do much more than make him wish time would speed up – but still, he might get surprised.
Ed snorted to himself and gave a slight nod to the bastard; who was he kidding, he was far more interested in sparring with Mustang again than he was in what might or might not be in his package from Chris.
He and Mustang made their way over to the mats, others around the room falling still as they realised what was going on. And it really should not have amused Ed so much that the cadets were so interested in watching him and his CO beat each other up, but, well, he kind of couldn't blame them.
As they stopped across from each other, Ed couldn't keep from commenting, "Let's see if you've learnt anything," though he did manage to keep the 'bastard' to himself; his squad would be so relieved.
Mustang's mouth curled with that smirk of his. "Indeed." And then he threw the first punch, leading with his left.
Ed felt a grin pulling across his face as the bastard controlled his swing, and rewarded him by ducking down and trying to sweep Mustang's feet out from under him, which he barely managed to dodge.
Ed knew, from his squad, that Mustang would often tackle the punching bags after he'd left for the evening, and it showed in the added ease of the bastard's movements – a fluidity of changing between attacks that he had been lacking during their first spar, not to mention the control of his left punches and kicks – as well as his improved stamina.
The spar went on longer than their first had, but Ed still stopped Mustang before the bastard could exhaust himself.
There was a moment of silence as they both caught their breaths, Ed grinning madly, while amusement glinted in Mustang's eyes, before someone let out a whistle, and a few other people started clapping, which turned into nearly fucking all the cadets and most of the command candidates showing their appreciation, because some arsehole had clearly spread the word about the spar while Ed and Mustang had been busy, and the gym was packed.
"Fuck it," Ed muttered, and Mustang let out a quiet snort that Ed had heard enough times to know Mustang shared his resignation at the situation. "Showy bastard," he muttered under the cover of the response from their audience.
Mustang raised an eyebrow at him. "Kettle, meet pot."
"Fuck you."
Mustang put on his most irritating smirk and, as the applause died off and it looked like they might be swarmed, said, "I'm sure you have classwork to get to, Fullmetal."
Ed snorted. "Yeah, you only wish you had my work ethic," he retorted, before stepping into the crowd and catching Oscar Pascale by one arm. "Come on, I told you I'd help you with that stupid bullshit from class."
Oscar laughed – he had actually asked Ed for help, but it was clear he knew he was being used as an escape – and let himself be led away. Back on their hall, however, as they approached his room, Oscar pointed out, "You can't duck 'em forever, Ed."
"Don't need to," Ed declared. "Left them with Mustang."
Oscar snorted and shook his head. "No one's going to pester the brigadier general like they will you."
Ed scoffed, because Mustang had been the one to tell him to leave, rather than making him stick around to manage the curious audience, and Ed would bet good money that the bastard was going to find a way to keep his peers from being disruptive, like they had been after the first spar.
And if he didn't, well, Ed would just make him regret it during their next spar.
As Ed had expected, Mustang had put a stopper on the majority of the questions he should have been hit with the next day. Ed wanted to feel victorious about that, but his squad was unusually quiet over breakfast, and it creeped him out more than a little. He caught Charlie Tugan on their way to lunch, eyeing where Taylor and Lois were walking behind all the other command candidates, and asked, "What did Mustang say?"
Charlie shrugged. "You were taught martial arts outside the military, by your alchemy teacher, and he learnt what he knows in the academy. If anyone wants to be as good as you two, the best we can do is just keep practising every day. And, no, neither of you are going to play teacher, that's part of the academy's job."
Ed frowned and glanced back at his squad members again. "And?"
Charlie glanced back himself. "He held your squad back after he dismissed the rest of us," he explained.
Ed nodded. "Right." Of course the bastard would use that demonstration to catch Ed's squad all in one place for some nefarious reason or another. "Thanks."
Charlie clapped him on the shoulder. "Any time, Ed," he promised and left to drop his things at Squad C's table before going through the food queue.
Ed spent lunch considering his squad, wondering if he wanted to know what Mustang had said to them. Or asked them. Or both.
"It's not what you think," Nick said when the three command candidates met back up with the cadets after changing for outdoor training following lunch.
Ed raised both eyebrows at him. "And what is it I think?" he asked, amused in spite of himself.
Nick shrugged. "He just wanted to know about any problems with Parnall."
Ed frowned at that, but he had to admit that he'd kind of expected Mustang to ask his squad about their interactions with the academy commander. He wished the bastard hadn't kicked him out of the discussion, even if he kind of understood the reasoning; Ed was the heart of their problems with Parnall, and not having him there meant his squad was more willing to mention his mistakes.
"Stop looking sour," Lois called back at him from where she was leading their squad. "It's not like any of us villainised you, or anything."
Ed clenched his jaw. Honestly, if anyone in his squad had taken him to task for his behaviour, he wouldn't hold it against them; it was his fucking fault they were in this mess to begin with.
They came to a stop in the cleared space where they usually met Captain Siemans for outdoor training. Siemans wasn't there, though, and Ed wasn't the only one to glance across the field, trying to spot the man.
The other squads had already got started by the time Squad A's instructor showed up, but it wasn't Siemans, and Ed was actually kind of freaked out by the way his squad crowded around him when they all spotted Parnall approaching, like they were trying to form a human wall to keep Ed and the academy commander apart.
Parnall's expression was not kind as he came to parade rest in front of Ed's squad. "Captain Siemans is otherwise occupied," he commented mildly, and Ed really fucking hoped Siemans was safe. "Given the current interest in hand-to-hand combat, it was decided we'd accelerate the cadet's training some and show you a bit more. Flanders, step forward. You'll be my assistant."
The way he said 'assistant' made it clear he had no gentle intentions towards whoever played the part, and Rebecca Flanders swallowed before taking a step forward.
Ed grabbed her shoulder to stop her and shoved firmly through his squad, anger burning like a live array through his body. "If you want to hit someone, sir," Ed snarled, "you can hit me."
"Ed, no," someone tried.
Parnall, though, looked like he'd just won a victory. "Thank you for volunteering, Elric. Get over here." As Ed stopped next to him, the man breathed, just loud enough for Ed to hear, "Duck or respond, and someone else will take your place."
Ed stared him down, unimpressed and untouchable on the wave of his anger. He'd traded blows with two versions of Greed, Envy in his dragon form, Pride, Lan Fan, his teacher, and his brother; Parnall was the smallest of small fries, and Ed was far more willing to take a punch than he was to watch someone take it for him.
The first hit was a solid punch to Ed's abdomen, which ached like fuck – so the arsehole could punch, good for him – but Ed absolutely refused to react to it, staring up at the colonel as he stepped back, something nasty in his dark eyes.
It was a challenge to keep his expression flat, but Ed was fairly certain he managed it. That said, he couldn't do anything about whatever his eyes were showing, and given that Parnall's next punch was straight for his face, Ed would bet good money his eyes were as insubordinate as he wanted to be.
He turned his head to take the hit on his cheek, rather than his nose – where Parnall was aiming – and when Parnall pulled back after another hard connect, Ed spat out the blood welling up from where his teeth had cut into his cheek upon impact, then turned back to Parnall, copper like a promise on his tongue.
Before Parnall could throw a third punch, fire bloomed between them, and the colonel let out a terrified shout as he stumbled back from the line.
Ed looked past Parnall, towards the closest door to the fort, and found Mustang standing there, one gloved hand extended, a figurative cloud of fury hovering over his head. Charlie stood just behind him, with Siemans, and a quick glance at the other two squads showed that they'd all stopped, had clearly been stopped for a while. Charlie had probably gone for Mustang before Parnall had thrown his first punch, because the other command candidates and cadets might not know exactly what Parnall was holding over Ed's head, but it was hard to miss the tension between them.
"Fullmetal, infirmary, now," Mustang ordered, his voice somehow showing none of the anger his stance was practically screaming.
Ed clenched his jaw against the insistence that he was fucking fine, because this was so not the time to start beating heads with Mustang. So he gave a short nod and stepped over the line of burnt grass, past Parnall, and walked towards the door.
As he made to walk past Mustang, the bastard caught his arm and quietly said, "Do not make me hunt you down."
In other words, 'Stay in the infirmary until I come to get you, you stubborn idiot.'
Ed huffed and pulled away from him, then continued his way into the building. And again, because this wasn't the time to go beating his head against Mustang's, he went to the infirmary and settled in to let the fort medic nursemaid him.
His squad showed up before Mustang, dodging the medic's disapproving stare as they crowded around the bed that Ed was sitting in. They were a welcome distraction – outdoor training meant he didn't have any of his books with him, only had a single diamond, and the lighter in his pockets – even if they led with Rebecca informing him, "You are a complete idiot. What ever possessed you–?"
"I'm the one Parnall's got shit with," Ed interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering up at her. "He wants to punch someone, he can punch me."
"You should have just gone for Mustang!" Stephan Felixstowe snapped.
"I don't need that bastard to fight my battles for me," Ed insisted, trying to keep his voice quiet so the medic didn't start bitching at them.
"What fight?" Lois demanded. "All we saw was you getting the snot beat out of you."
"Oh, give me a break. He hit me twice. That is not–"
"Hard," Lois shot back. "He hit you fucking hard, Ed. You spat out blood."
"My teeth cut my cheek," Ed replied, flipping a careless hand at her. "Please. That happens if someone startles me while I'm resting a cheek on my hand."
"He was aiming for your nose," Taylor pointed out drily. "If you're so unconcerned, why'd you turn your head?"
"Because broken noses suck."
Taylor pointed at Ed silently, as if to say, 'See? This is my point.'
Ed rolled his eyes. "So he was at just the right angle to break my nose if he'd connected. So what?"
"As entertaining as watching people try to talk sense into Fullmetal is," Mustang's voice came from behind Ed's squad, all of whom tensed, "it's ultimately an act of futility, and I do believe you lot are supposed to be outside with Captain Siemans."
"Sir!" Taylor answered for all of them, before leading the way from the infirmary.
Ed was left with the medic, who was standing at attention, and Mustang, who was leaning back against the opened door, body language lazy, eyes burning with anger. "How is Major Elric?" he asked the medic, his tone mild.
"Sir! He's got a small laceration inside his mouth, which had already stopped bleeding by the time he reached me, and will likely have a bruise on his abdomen and cheek, but is fit for duty."
Mustang crooked his finger at Ed. "Come with me."
Ed huffed and joined his CO in walking up to the offices. Mustang led him into an office that was much smaller than Parnall's and had signs of having been used as a storage room before being cleaned out to serve as a temporary office, judging by the filing cabinets lining one wall and the stacks of academy paperwork strewn across the table-turned-desk and one of the two guest chairs. (Although, given the bastard's usual abhorrence of paperwork, Ed could almost see it just being his office's normal state of being without Hawkeye there to threaten him, except he was about ninety percent certain that Mustang was a bit of a neat-freak; this place had to be driving him mad.)
Mustang motioned to the cleared guest chair and watched Ed settle into it with sharp eyes. Only after Ed was seated did he take his own seat, ordering, "Explain."
Ed felt his jaw clench and forcefully pried it open. "Parnall came out, said Siemans was otherwise occupied, so he'd be our instructor for the day. Said some bullshit about the uptick of interest in hand-to-hand meaning they were gonna speed up the cadets' training in that, then told Rebecca – Cadet Flanders – to serve as his 'assistant'. I stopped her, told him if he wanted to hit someone, he could hit me, and he waved me up."
"So you let him beat on you," Mustang said, the dryness of his tone belied by the absolute fury Ed could see in his eyes.
Ed took a deep breath, then admitted, "He said that, if I did anything but take it, he'd have one of the others take my place."
Mustang inclined his head in acknowledgement, then said, "You can't protect everyone every time, Fullmetal."
Ed wrapped his hands tight around the arms of his chair, used that to ground himself, and snarled, "You think I don't know that?" Because he'd failed Nina, failed the people of Liore when Central City troops had forced the civil war he'd stopped, failed dozens of people who had refused his help when he'd held out a hand to them.
"I think you want to believe you can," Mustang returned coolly, "and you're going to kill yourself one of these days because of it."
Ed clenched his jaw and looked away because, yeah, that sounded about right.
"Ed," Mustang said, and Ed couldn't help but glance back at him, attention caught by the nickname that the bastard had never used, "don't make me tell your brother he's alone in the world."
That fell like one of Teacher's punches to Ed's gut. Because, fuck, he couldn't do that to Al, couldn't leave him behind. And the idea of making Mustang deliver the news honestly ached, because he knew the bastard actually fucking cared.
Mustang leant forward, his posture saying he'd scented his victory. "The next time someone pulls rank on you and tells you to take a punch, don't. You are not a punching bag, and I would rather be forced to weather the fallout, than find out too late that they were concealing a knife."
Ed grimaced at that, because he'd fought shitheads who were hiding knives before, had got damn good at blocking them with his automail arm, back when he had an automail arm. "What if they outrank you?" he asked, because he wasn't going to fuck up Mustang's bid for the Führership because some major general decided he needed a split lip.
Mustang caught his eye. "Then you cash in one of the favours Grumman owes you."
Ed raised an eyebrow at that. Grumman owed him favours?
Well, okay, now he thought about it, Grumman probably owed favours to everyone who had fought in Central on the Promised Day, given that he wouldn't have his current position without them, and Ed agreeing to play hunting dog to catch the Bradley supporters, rather than returning to Mustang's command, could be construed as another favour or ten (or however many of the fuckers he and his team managed to bring in). Never mind whatever Grumman owed Ed for actually agreeing to stick it out with the military and go through officer training; they could argue all day that Ed was only doing it because it helped Mustang, but the fact was that it helped Grumman just as much, with Mustang so clearly loyal to him.
Taylor had asked him, once, how much pull Ed had with Grumman, and Ed had waved it off, but he actually had a lot, didn't he? And he was about to start racking up more. Favours that he could use on stupid shit, like the chance to punch some uppity general in the face, or–
Ed narrowed his eyes at Mustang, and he frowned at him. "Right," he said, didn't give voice to the idea growing in the back of his mind, his intention to take Hughes and Havoc's empty spaces and fucking shove the bastard into the Führer's chair, no matter what it took.
Mustang watched him for a beat, frowning like he had no idea where Ed's mind had just gone. (And maybe he didn't; he knew Ed was carrying Havoc's old lighter, knew that part of the reason he'd stayed on was to see the bastard to the top, but it's not like Ed had ever flat-out said he was going to step into the vacuum left by Hughes.) "Good," he said, before leaning back in his chair, letting his face blank. "The military police will be here by tonight to pick up Parnall; his very public attack did a lot to push your case through the gridlock the brass had caught it in–"
"Imagine that," Ed couldn't resist saying.
Mustang shot him a sharp look. "Let's avoid such measures in future."
Ed shrugged, refused to promise anything one way or the other, because if letting someone attack him in public again would force a case past whatever bureaucratic bullshit was holding it back, he'd do it. Though, sure, he could see the sense in not allowing his opponent to actually land a hit.
Mustang sighed and picked up what looked to be the command candidates' schedule through the end of training. "In terms of classes and your duties following graduation, this is a good time to handle this," he said blandly. "You're not changing commands, and you're familiar with where you'll be serving, so you don't need to be taken on any tours of facilities or departments." He cast Ed a brief glance, one which said a lot more than his mocking addition of, "Though you might be served with a day in Intelligence, given how confused you've always been about my knowledge of your misdeeds."
Ed knew Mustang's team had never had any official ties to Intelligence, but any command worth their salt, he was coming to learn, knew a few faces they could trust to pass on intel. For Mustang, that had been Hughes, then Major Armstrong, plus whatever Chris passed on. Now that Ed would be spending a lot of time hunting down leads, having his own connections in Intelligence – connections that were aware he was going to be using them; he already knew and trusted Armstrong and Sheska, but he hadn't spoken to either of them since he'd returned to Resembool – would serve him well, especially when augmented by Chris' own information network.
"There is a good chance you'll be called in to defend your accusations in Parnall's tribunal," Mustang continued, and Ed clenched his jaw, because he'd half expected that, but it didn't mean he liked it. "I will be there the entire time." Which was irritatingly reassuring; what had Ed become, wanting Mustang at his back against opposition? "Do we need to discuss the necessity of respectful language and bearing while speaking to the generals and colonels that will be on the tribunal?" he finished drily.
The familiar 'fuck you' was on the tip of his tongue, but Ed swallowed it down, straightened in his chair, and replied, "No, sir," without a hint of irony.
Mustang raised an eyebrow at him, but kindly didn't comment, instead saying, "Good. Assume you'll be attending your day as usual, and I'll have Captain Siemans inform you during morning check if you'll be heading into Central instead."
Ed nodded. "Is there a chance anyone in my squad will get called in?" he had to ask, because Parnall's beef may have been with him, but his squad had been dragged into it with him.
Mustang sighed and set the paper he'd been holding back on his 'desk'. "The cadets won't, but Warrant Officers Bartel and Hansa may get called in, which I'll be informing them about." And then, because he knew Ed far too well, Mustang added, "Unless the tribunal calls you in on the same days, you will not be going into Central with them."
Ed's jaw was beginning to ache, between how much clenching he'd been doing and the faint reminder of Parnall's punch.
Mustang sat forward, his eyes knowing. "Again, I will be there with them the entire time."
"You're a bastard," Ed muttered in a failed attempt to hide how disgustingly reassuring that was. Ugh. Fucking Mustang.
"So you've said," Mustang said by way of response, and Ed didn't need to see the flicker of amusement in his eyes to know the bastard was laughing at him. "I believe that's everything for the moment?" Ed shrugged and nodded. "Good. You're dismissed to rest in your room until dinner."
Ed sighed. "Not an invalid," he insisted as he stood.
"Be quiet and take your day off."
Ed rolled his eyes and made for the door. As he touched the knob, though, something occurred to him and he turned back. "Mustang?"
The man glanced up from where he'd turned his attention to some of the paperwork on his 'desk'. "Fullmetal?"
"The sparring. Was that just to get my squad all in one place without me, or...?" Or what? Fuck, Ed wasn't even sure what he wanted to ask.
But Mustang clearly got it, because he offered Ed a smile that should have felt weird – too familiar, too fond, too much like friendship – but really just felt right, like the next step in their convoluted relationship, built on a foundation of mutual benefit – of respect and anger and struggling to survive. "If I'm here for dinner, I'm happy to spar with you," he said.
Which, yeah, that had been what Ed had been asking, so he flashed Mustang a grin in response, as comfortable on his face as every grin he'd ever sent to one of the people he called a friend. "I'll see you tonight, then."
Mustang sighed, and Ed rushed out of his office before the bastard could try ordering him to take fucking bedrest or whatever.
Parnall's replacement showed up a couple days later, a Colonel Foster. He had that same booming voice that Parnall had managed – but he was a lot more easy-going, actually smiled for reasons beyond watching cadets suffer – and if he and Mustang had a history, it either wasn't a bad one, or he was professional enough to not let it show in his interactions with the bastard or Ed.
Still, Ed had got in the habit of minding his smart retorts and using 'sir' with the fort officers, and he kept to that with Foster, if only for his squad's peace of mind. He also made a point to cut back on his insults towards Mustang, because while his squad and fellow command candidates might be used to it, and Mustang knew he didn't actually mean it (most of the time), there was no reason to make an enemy out of their new commander just because Ed couldn't resist the urge to call out his CO for being a smug bastard.
Anyway, as Lois had pointed out, it was good practice for future interactions with the bastard when Ed actually had to play the good soldier. ("Or, at least," Omar had added, most of their squad laughing, "as close to that as you'll ever manage.")
He did get called in to stand across from Parnall during the tribunal twice, and Lois and Taylor got called in once together. Grumman had been the only one he'd known on the tribunal, but Mustang had described the others to him while they were on the train, so Ed had known who would be most likely to take his side. (Namely, Brigadier General Hashim, who was a quarter Ishvalan and didn't actively hate Mustang's guts; Brigadier General Lee, whose son idolised the Fullmetal Alchemist; Colonel Hotchkiss, who was the head of Central Intelligence and known to be protective of his subordinates; and Colonel Metford, who hadn't hidden her dislike of Bradley and his heavy hand while he was alive. The major general – Vickers – and the lieutenant general – Peabody – on the tribunal both had no love for Mustang, and he hadn't been able to guess whose side they'd fall on, given who Ed's commander was. And, fuck, he'd never realised how much trouble he'd have just because his CO tweaked a few noses once or twice and didn't shy away from dirty work if it meant a promotion.)
The tribunal only took a week, and Parnall was sentenced to an extended stay in Central's prison. Mustang stayed on at the academy through the end of that partial week, then returned to his leave in the city, leaving Ed on his own for his last week of training. Which, well, it was nice, on one hand, to no longer have the bastard looking over his shoulder, but it didn't take long for him to start missing the regular sparring matches, and the punching bag took the brunt of his irritation.
Ed's whole class of command candidates passed, much to most of their relief. During their celebration lunch – the last meal they'd be sharing with their squads or each other before taking the evening train back to Central and catching trains from there to their postings – Nick jokingly told Ed, Taylor, and Lois, "Save spaces for us as your subordinates, yeah?"
Taylor and Lois had both laughed and nodded, but Ed put on his best apologetic expression and reached across the table to pat Nick's hand. "You don't want on my team," he told him as seriously as he could.
Nick snorted. "Who wouldn't want to team up with the Fullmetal Alchemist?" he said, and the others laughed and made noises of agreement.
Ed sighed and said, "You realise I'm going to be spending most of my time on trains."
Nick recoiled, horror bleeding across his features. "Ah." He swallowed a couple of times while Ed patted his hand in understanding and a couple members of their squad snickered. "Right. Yeah. You keep that team to yourself, then."
Lois snorted and nudged Ed's right leg with hers under the table. "Back to business as usual for you, then, huh?"
"I'd have thought you'd end up out in Ishval with Mustang," Taylor added.
Ed shrugged. "Me too, but old man Grumman decided he'd rather send me west, and Mustang agreed." He snorted and rolled his eyes, before drily adding, "Guess the bastard doesn't wanna chance me around all those new buildings they've got out there."
They all laughed, every one of them having heard Mustang, on more than one occasion, gripe about Ed's tendency to bring down buildings. It gave a rather neat explanation for why he wasn't following his CO back east, without suggesting things were at all unstable in Ishval – which they weren't, from what Hawkeye had been passing on, according to Mustang; they'd even got the okay from the council to extend the train line from Resembool to the site where they currently had the military outpost set up, about ten minutes' walk to the main city, once the rebuilding was done – or that he had anything more covert he was working on. Which, well, he was working on something more covert, not to mention dangerous and the sort of assignment that required split-second decisions that he wasn't sure he'd trust anyone who hadn't suffered through command training and had literally had to fight for their lives to make. (Darius and Heinkel, he'd found after some snooping through their files, which Grumman had slipped to him while he was in Central during the tribunal, had gone through an abbreviated command training with Jerso and Zampano, just enough that they could say they had earned their rank and had the authorisation to make life-or-death decisions on the battlefield when separated from their CO. Ed fully intended to tell them they were both cheats as soon as he met back up with them.)
"So, you're going west, huh?" Taylor said. "You gonna go all the way back to Central, or just get off at the connecting line and take the next train out, like Keith and Oscar have been saying?"
Ed shook his head. "Nah. I promised I'd drop by and see Elicia one more time before I left, so I'm going back into Central." Not to mention the paperwork he needed to drop by Grumman's office, and dropping by Madame Christmas for anything Chris had collected in the past week.
Lois perked up. "Oh, hey! Can I come meet her? We're going to be just missing the next train out to East City, so I'm stuck in Central for a couple days."
"Only if you promise to introduce me properly to Brittany next time I'm in East," he returned with a grin, because he'd heard enough about Lois' girlfriend that he felt like he actually knew her better than the handful of times they'd spoken when he'd walked through the hospital and seen her at the reception desk, which was a sort of weird feeling. (One he was starting to get used to, in truth; he'd never spent so much time with people who were willing to talk ad nauseam about absent family and friends. At least with Lois' girlfriend he had an actual person to put with her name, but the rest of them were just blank slates in his mind, coloured in with the stories and perceptions of the person who spoke of them or the rare photo one of them had pulled out of their belongings.)
"I can do that. Maybe I'll introduce you to Phil, too," she added, referring to her younger brother, who was a sergeant in East City. Then she turned to Taylor.
Taylor held up his hands. "No," he insisted, and Ed wasn't the only one to start laughing. "First off, no, stay away from my family. Second off, I'm not even going through Central; it's faster to wait in Gamitz for the outer ring line than going through Central and hoped I make both connections."
"Don't you have a cousin in East?" Omar helpfully pointed out.
"Not in the city. None of my family lives in a capital," Taylor was quick to remind them.
Lois flashed him a smile that would have made Ed worried, had he been on the receiving end. "Maybe I'll get lucky and end up on an inspection team. Your cousin's in New Optain, right?"
Taylor just sighed and covered his face.
Ed nudged Lois' leg with his own, then offered, "Hey, Taylor, I promise not to go hunting down any of your family."
"You're going west," Taylor reminded him.
Ed grinned. "Yeah, but my mechanic's in Rush Valley. You've got cousins there, right?"
Taylor groaned and shot Ed a disgusted look. "You know, I'm beginning to understand why you're always calling superiors names. Sir."
Ed laughed. "If it makes you feel any better, I make it a habit to avoid my mechanic whenever possible."
Taylor shook his head. "No. No, I do not feel better, because I have heard how hard military service can be on automail and I know you."
"I give him a month," Greg Gabardini was quick to offer.
"I was gonna say a week," Ben Grahame shot back, with a look that promised he was looking to start something with Greg.
"You're both being generous," Rebecca Flanders cut in, before the guys could get started, "I bet he'll break something the same day he gets off the train."
"Anyone got paper?" Omar Hotspur asked, and both Evan Beardmore and Lisa Coanda pulled one out, then caught each other's eyes and gave slightly nervous laughs.
Ed sighed; he never should have told the cadets that betting was a military pastime.
Lois knocked his leg with hers, and when he glanced across at her, he found her grinning. "If you're lucky, they'll never find out when you break it?"
"I hate you," Ed insisted, and Lois fucking cackled.
Only about half of the newly minted officers returned to Central, with Oscar, Keith, and Taylor all waiting for the next loop train heading in the right direction. Since Ed didn't really get on with Lawrence Wackett – they'd agreed to disagree about Bradley, and Ed promised he wouldn't punch Wackett again so long as he kept his praising to himself – he and Lois settled in on one side of the aisle, while Wackett sat with Charlie Tugan on the other, and their two pairs mostly kept to themselves, despite being the only passengers in military blue.
"I think the first thing I'm going to do when we get in at Central, is hunt down a hotel and change," Lois muttered as yet another civilian passenger looked at them uncertainly as they passed on their way to the toilet or food car or wherever.
Ed shrugged. "I can show you the hotel I always use when I'm in Central, if you want."
Lois nodded. "Yeah, that would be awesome. And then I can meet your sister?"
Ed snorted, amused. "At least let me ring them before we drop by," he insisted, and she let out a slightly nervous laugh. He shook his head, then admitted, "I need to drop past Command before I visit them, anyway. I can call from the hotel, and if Gracia is okay with visitors tonight, we can meet up at the park over by their place once I'm done."
Lois frowned at him. "You have to drop by Command? But I thought you already had your assignment."
Ed shrugged. "Well, yeah, but I have some paperwork to drop by Grumman's office." And the man had asked Ed to stop by, probably just in case he had any updates, but he wasn't going to mention that.
Lois' expression went flat. "You've been in training for three months, Ed. What paperwork could you possibly have that you need to drop first thing?"
Ed grimaced. "Uh, the personnel files of my team?"
"The personnel files that aren't supposed to leave whatever command building they're filed in?"
"I liked you better when you didn't cite regulation at me."
Lois snorted and threw her hands up in a sign of surrender. "I don't know why I'm surprised," she admitted before shaking her head, expression turning slightly impressed. "Though, seriously, when did you even get them? Someone would have noticed if they'd been missing for three months."
Ed shrugged. "I could have transmuted copies," he pointed out, and Lois squeezed her eyes shut. "But I didn't. Old man Grumman let me take them out when I asked after them during the tribunal. Which is why I'm dropping them back off with him, rather than sneaking them back into the personnel room under cover of darkness or however Stephan's stupid mystery novels put it."
Lois snorted again. "If I never have to sit through him sharing another 'favourite scene' over dinner again, it'll be too soon," she muttered and Ed laughed. "Please, please, don't let him be posted to East City."
"I'll let Führer Grumman know that, come May, he should send Private Felixstowe to East City," Ed promised in his best commanding officer voice.
Lois threw a pen at him.
Ed snorted and tossed it back to her. "No, but seriously, I hope old man Grumman sends him up west, so he's not too far from his sisters." He'd actually, as soon as he'd heard about Stephan's parents dying as a result of the Nationwide Transmutation Circle, sent off a note to Grumman that he should post Stephan as close to his three younger sisters as he could, once he'd graduated the academy, because it wasn't fair to any of them that he had to sell his soul to the military just so they could keep food on the table. Ed had been there, and he would fucking cash in one of his favours if that's what it took to keep Stephan close to what remained of his family. (Not that he'd ever tell Stephan he was doing that, just like he'd never tell Nick that he'd done the same thing for him. Just like he'd be willing to silently pull what strings he could to get any of his squad posted close to their families, though only Nick and Stephan were main or sole providers.)
Lois sighed and turned to look out at the countryside, turning her pen between her fingers. "Me too," she admitted. "Hell, if he does get posted somewhere else, I'll put in a transfer out west, keep an eye on those kids for him."
Ed couldn't resist a snort. "Kids," he repeated. "You realise the eldest of his sisters is the same age as me, right?"
Lois shot him a vaguely surprised look. "Shit, you're right." She closed her eyes and shook her head, letting out a faint huff of amusement. "God, I always forget how young you are."
Ed grimaced and took his turn at staring out the window at the passing countryside; in truth, he wasn't actually old enough to apply for military service, not under Grumman's laws that set the cut-off at eighteen. Which, well, the cut-off had always been eighteen, but there had been a stipulation, under Bradley, that young men and women from military families could attend the academy as young as fifteen. With the intention that they would go through command training at eighteen, fast-tracking them to the positions that their parents would have expected of them. Even the State Alchemist program had received a much-needed age requirement, to keep any other twelve-year-old geniuses from applying.
Ed was unique. Grumman had said it three months ago, and it hadn't really occurred to Ed, then, how much of a risk this move was, because only time would tell how being the only under-eighteen officer in Amestris' history would work out. But, too, Grumman had been right: Any other soldier who'd suffered through half of the shit that had gone down in Central during the Promised Day (not to mention finding out about it in advance and being part of the rebellion from day one) would have – had, Ed knew from checking the records – been given a promotion, and if the People's Alchemist got overlooked on account of his age, Grumman would have had a riot on his hands. Fuck, the only reason Ed was only a minor source of slander, was that most people seemed to assume he'd quit the military, what with his long leave. (Well, too, the lack of his trademark red coat made him stand out far less in a crowd; without it, he was just another blond kid with a rude attitude.)
Ed frowned, his mind sliding down a related track: Was there a way he could show he was supporting Grumman and Mustang? Some way to punch a hole through every comment about how 'if Grumman's really that great, why isn't the Fullmetal Alchemist standing behind him'? Because at least one of the articles Chris had sent with his post every week would make that argument.
"Okay, see, that is not a good look," Lois interrupted his ponderings, and Ed glanced over at her, a part of him still distracted with his line of thought. "That is the look that comes before a Bradley rant."
Ed surprised himself with a snort. "Not this time," he promised.
Lois widened her eyes at him in an obvious bid for an explanation. "You mean there's something other than Bradley that makes you look like you want to kill something? Warn me now so I don't accidentally set you off in future."
"You're hilarious," Ed muttered, before sighing and slumping in his seat. "It's just, they don't do it often, but I really hate the way the papers keep going on about how my being quiet in regards to the military means I don't support Grumman. I mean, what does it even fucking matter what I think?"
Lois frowned, eyes going to one side in that way they did when she was puzzling through something. "Well, I mean, you're sort of a big deal. Or you were, before you went to ground, what, almost two years ago, now?" She shrugged and offered him a helpless look. "Hell, most of the public don't even know whose side you were fighting on a year ago, just that you'd been wounded during that mess in Central."
Ed sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just wish there was some sort of way to get it out there now that I'm sticking with Grumman, rather than waiting for it to filter down like usual."
Lois straightened. "But you can," she insisted, and Ed frowned at her. "You can do an interview. On the radio, like how Mrs Bradley and Brigadier General Mustang's people did, remember?"
Ed blinked. He hadn't heard about the radio broadcast until after it was over, but he'd also heard that it had reached people all over the country, and Gracia had said that it had probably saved a lot of lives in Central, because they'd told people to stay indoors, where they'd have some protection from bullets that missed their mark. "I could, couldn't I?" he murmured.
"You thinking to do a radio interview, Ed?" Charlie called across the aisle, and Ed glanced over to find him looking even more serious than usual. "Better check with the Führer first, make sure you're not going to get in trouble."
"Ooh, yeah. You don't want to say anything that might be state secrets or whatever," Lois agreed.
Wackett scoffed. "I'd be more worried about Elric insulting the wrong people."
"Shut up, Second Lieutenant," Ed ordered, and it was really fucking nice to be able to do that. (Not that he couldn't have before – he'd always outranked Wackett, technically – but now they weren't at the academy, where they all had the same effective rank of command candidate, it was guaranteed that he had to listen.)
Wackett scowled at him, but obediently kept any further commentary to himself.
"I'm sure the Führer has a speech writer who can help you make up a safe statement," Charlie offered.
Ed grimaced. "Really? You can actually see me following some pre-written script?"
Lois started laughing, while Wackett turned to face the window on his side, as if Ed couldn't see his smirk in the reflection.
Charlie sighed. "Notes, at least? A list of topics you can touch on?"
"Words you're not allowed to say on the radio?" Lois added, laughter still in her voice.
Ed huffed. "You know, I am capable of watching my language."
The looks the other three sent him made it clear they didn't believe him, not even a little.
Ed slouched back down in his bench. "Traitors, all of you."
Lois rolled her eyes and reached out with her foot to shove his right knee. "You're going by the Führer's office anyway, right? Might as well bring it up with him. If nothing else, at least he'll have the connections to set things up so you're not cooling your heels in Central for a week, waiting for one of the stations to call you back."
Wackett barked a laugh. "Give it up, Hansa. We all know the Central stations will be fighting each other for the chance to interview the Fullmetal Alchemist."
"Yeah, I'm with Ed: shut up, Wackett," Lois snapped.
Ed snorted and turned back towards the window, picking out the familiar signs of the outer edges of Central. "I'll ask old man Grumman," he agreed, before warning, "We'll be there in another ten minutes," and putting an end to any further conversation.
Come What May Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 ||
11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
Extras:
Ch 04 (Roy) || Ch 07 (Roy) || Ch 10 (Roy)
Ch 10 (Darius - NSFW) || Ch 16 (Ed - NSFW) || Ch 17 (Roy)
We All Need Saving Chapters:
Unposted
Dancing With the Devil Chapters:
Unposted
.
