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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: Just as a note, trying to actually figure out how large Amestris is (aka, how long it would take to drive anywhere) is pretty much a guaranteed formula to bring me, at least, to tears. So, you know, I'm fudging this shit the whole way and don't fucking judge me. (Don't even get me started on figuring out max car speeds and, holy shit, train lines are just nightmares. Everything is bullshit.)
Chapter Eight
-0-
He and Lois ended up across the hall from each other at his preferred hotel, and Ed stopped off long enough to drop his suitcase on the bed, withdrawing the folder with the files he needed to take to Command, then took over the phone in the lobby and rang Gracia. "Hey, it's Ed."
"You're back in Central?"
"Yeah. I've gotta run by Command for a bit, but I can come over after that."
"Elicia will be so happy," Gracia said, smile obvious in her voice. "She's got both of her favourite military men home."
Ed blinked. Both? "Mustang's still in town? I though his leave was over."
"Well, the Führer apparently granted him an extra few days as an apology for forcing him back to work."
"Huh." Well, it's not like he hadn't known Grumman was no Bradley. "Go figure. Well, one of my friends from training is in town until the next train east. I keep mentioning Elicia to her–" Gracia laughed "–and so she wants to meet her. Said I'd check about maybe dinner, but if Mustang's around..."
"Give me a moment," Gracia offered, before muffling the phone and calling out to – Ed would bet – Mustang. The bastard's tone, when he responded, sounded positive, so Ed wasn't surprised when Gracia came back with, "Roy doesn't mind your friend joining us for dinner, if she's okay with eating with him."
"Hah, yeah. I'll run it by her on my way out. Either way, I'm absolutely coming over tonight. Gotta get my tea parties in before I have to head west."
Gracia laughed quietly. "Of course. We'll see you in a few hours, then."
"Yeah." Ed hung up with a grin, and turned to find Lois seated in one of the chairs in the lobby, still in her uniform. "I thought you were changing," he called as he started over towards her.
Lois shrugged as she stood. "Realised I'm not comfortable enough navigating Central on my own, so I'll just come with you to Command, if that's okay?" She cast him a faintly uncertain look, before quickly adding, "And if it's not okay for me to eat over with your family, I can find somewhere else on the way back to the hotel."
Ed waved a hand at her. "Gracia's fine with it," he promised, before motioning for them to head outside, where the busy streets would cover him adding, "Mustang's gonna be there, though, if you're not comfortable eating over with him."
Lois blinked a few times. "Your CO is eating dinner over with your kinda-sorta sister and her mum?"
Ed grimaced and shoved the hand that wasn't holding his paperwork into his pocket. "Yeah. They're kind of his family, too. Brigadier General Hughes was his best friend."
Lois took a moment to consider that before she cast Ed a speculative look. "Wait, does that mean he was at Elicia's birthday party?" Ed nodded, grinning at the memory. "Did he have to wear one of those crowns?" Because Ed had shown some of his pictures around to his squad and the other command candidates, including one of his own crown. (And had then endured some gentle ribbing for the fact that he actually wore the thing, though they all did seem to understand that there was no refusing younger sisters.)
Ed's grin widened. "I had to take those pictures out of the stack," he admitted and she laughed. "He's actually the one that made mine."
Lois shook her head. "Yeah, sure, I'll take a chance and share dinner with the brigadier general. Which is just...so many kinds of weird."
Ed snorted. "I know."
They were still alternately breaking out into half-disbelieving snickers when they were waved through the main gate and started up the stairs. The climb managed to calm them both down, though, and they started across the parade grounds in a far more professional manner.
"You can wait for me out here, or come up and wait in the outer office," Ed offered as they approached the stairs up to the balcony and the front doors.
Lois glanced around at the groups of men and women in military blue, most of them heading home at the end of the day, and shook her head. "I'll come up, if it's all the same; not sure how people react to loitering around here."
Ed snorted. "Stand on the balcony and look like you're angry because someone's making you wait," he suggested. "Everyone leaves you alone, then."
"You mean everyone leaves you alone, Mr Youngest State Alchemist," Lois retorted. "I'll take my chances in the Führer's office."
Ed shrugged and led the way up to Grumman's office, knocking on the open outer office door before poking his head in and looking towards the secretary's desk. "Hey, is the Führer in?" he requested when the woman sitting there glanced up at him.
She frowned and looked down at an open book on her desk. "I believe so. Did you have an appointment?"
"Nah, but he's probably expecting me," Ed admitted, stepping fully into the office.
The secretary looked back up at him and opened her mouth, but then her eyes caught on his shoulder and she straightened, throwing him a salute. "Lieutenant Colonel, sir!"
Ed sighed while Lois started snickering behind him. "Please don't," he pleaded. "I hate saluting."
Grumman's obnoxious laugh preceded him out of his office. "Lieutenant Colonel Elric," he offered by way of greeting, before his eyes slid past Ed to Lois. "And Second Lieutenant Hansa."
"Führer, sir!" Lois said as she saluted.
Ed closed his eyes and rubbed at them. "I hate the military," he muttered, before dropping his hand and starting across the office towards the Führer as the man returned Lois' salute. "You wanted me?" he asked the bastard.
Grumman chuckled and motioned for Ed to step into his office. "Have a seat, Second Lieutenant," he told Lois before following Ed in, closing the door behind himself. "Please, make yourself comfortable, Lieutenant Colonel," he added with obvious humour as he started around his ridiculously-large desk.
Ed snorted at him from where he was already sitting and opened his folder, pulling out files and setting them on a cleared space on Grumman's desk as he announced them: "Darius and Heinkel's files, the paperwork to end their leave, notes from them requesting I make the change on their behalf, and my report covering everything so far." He closed the folder as Grumman reached across his desk and picked up the report he'd requested Ed write up as a formal record of the investigation so far.
"Your handwriting seems to have improved," Grumman remarked, glancing over the page at him.
Ed shrugged. "I'm right-handed; learning to write legibly with my left hand was never a priority." Also, not that he was going to say so, but he knew his poor handwriting was a source of irritation for Mustang, and since annoying the ever-loving fuck out of the bastard was one of his few joys in life, as a kid...)
Grumman nodded at that, then leant over and opened one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper, then handed it across to Ed. "Your official orders," he said as Ed accepted the page. "Until the completion of this mission, all reports are to be passed only through secure channels to those who need to know."
So, Chris and Grumman.
Ed narrowed his eyes. "Mustang asked me to keep him informed." Because Ed was going to keep his CO in the loop no matter what – Marie had been game to act as message deliverer – but doing so without Grumman's knowledge was just asking for a mess.
Grumman frowned. "Secure channels, Lieutenant Colonel."
"Yes, sir." Ed lifted his chin and met Grumman's stare head-on.
Grumman nodded after a moment. "Your team will be the ones suffering the consequences if you fuck up," he warned him, and Ed clenched his jaw. "Very well." Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I should know better than to question your loyalty."
Ed bit back the 'you really fucking should' that was on the tip of his tongue, instead slipping his orders – lines of black hiding the pertinent details and marking the mission as top secret – away in his folder and saying, "I was complaining, on the train, about how long it's going to take for people to be aware that I'm back with the military, and Lois suggested I do a radio interview before I head out."
Grumman raised his eyebrows at that, clearly surprised. "It's not a bad suggestion," he admitted, "but I'm not certain why you care. I thought you hated the attention."
Ed huffed and folded the folder in half, uncaring about the official paperwork inside. "I do," he replied, "but I'm really fucking sick of seeing my name being used as a sort of 'oh, if the Fullmetal Alchemist isn't with the military, why should anyone be' bullshit. I get it, right? I'm the military's fucking show pony; I put on a pretty smile and your popularity ratings go up." He shoved the folder into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Anyway, if they're talking about my talking you up, they're not wondering what I'm doing out west."
"They'll still be talking about you being out west," Grumman murmured, "once you start bringing down buildings."
"Shut up. Seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Mustang about these buildings? I put them back!"
"Mostly."
Ed scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine, so they'll be talking about me in the west, but the big news everywhere else will be that I'm coming out on your side, right? Got a promotion after a super extended leave, you're doing right by the People's Alchemist, I'm wholly behind the Ishval rebuilding–"
Grumman let out a sort of 'ah-ha' noise, like he'd just been waiting for Ed to mention how Mustang fit into this.
"–and whatever other shit you've got going on. Extending train lines, beefing up the hospitals, cutting back on weapons development, all that shit."
Grumman let out a vaguely amused sound. "And here I thought the Central Times didn't deliver to Fort Forsthaus."
"Fuck off. I did the months out of the loop down in Resembool; this is my country too, and I'm fucking done with sitting on my hands and watching it go to shit. Okay?"
Grumman was smiling, that same sort of gleam of approval that he'd seen in Mustang's eyes when he'd agreed to report Parnall in the Führer's eyes. And it didn't leave him feeling quite so warm as Mustang's approval had done, but there was definitely a sort of sense of positive reinforcement going on, which was shit; why should Ed even care if the two bastards approved of his actions? Fuck.
"We'll have to get some facts straight," Grumman commented, "and you're going to have to follow some rules about giving a public statement on the military's behalf."
Ed scowled. "Fine. But I'm not reading off a fucking script; no one's gonna believe shit if I come off sounding practiced."
Grumman let out an amused sound. "You wouldn't stick to a script, anyway," he allowed before pulling out some blank stationary and a pen.
Ed sighed and slumped in his seat. "Yeah, fine. Gracia isn't expecting us for a while yet, anyway."
Grumman's responding smile made the hair on the back of Ed's neck stand on end; what the fuck had he just signed himself up for?
"Are you okay, Big Brother?" Elicia asked.
Ed glanced down at her, then back up at the radio station they were standing outside of. "I'm insane," he decided.
Gracia laughed quietly behind him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, Ed."
Ed shook his head, took a fortifying breath, then led the way in; when he'd announced over dinner that he'd be on the radio, Elicia had been insistent that she come too, and while he sort of would have preferred to keep her well out of it – the last thing he wanted was for someone to mark the Hugheses as possible leverage against him – he was actually kind of glad that they'd come with to support him. Especially since Mustang had pointed out that him bringing any member of the military with would sort of defeat the point of playing up the People's Alchemist angle. (The bastard. It wasn't like Ed wanted him to tag along, anyway.)
He gave his name to the woman manning the front desk and, after receiving a wide, slightly awe-struck smile, they were led up to the recording room and introduced to the interviewer, Bob Siegel.
"Great to meet you, Mr Elric," the man said as he shook Ed's hand.
"Ed, please."
The man grinned at him. "Bob," he returned with a wink, and Ed couldn't help an amused snort. "And who are these two lovely ladies?" he asked, turning to the Hugheses.
"This is Gracia Hughes and her daughter, Elicia. Practically family."
Elicia gave a vigorous nod and offered up her hand for a shake, which Bob took with a kind laugh. "Mama and me came to cheer Big Brother Ed on because Uncle Roy said he couldn't," she informed him seriously.
"There goes that secret," Gracia said with a laugh, as if they hadn't all been aware that someone would connect their last name and Mustang's friendship with Hughes. When Bob shot Ed and her a curious look, she offered, "Brigadier General Mustang was my late husband's best friend."
"Ah." Bob nodded in understanding before looking back down at Elicia. "Well, Miss Elicia, it's quite good of you, coming to cheer your big brother on. You'll have to stay out here with your mum while Ed and I are in the sound booth, I'm afraid, and we won't be able to hear you, but we'll make it so you can listen in, and we'll be able to see each other. How's that?"
Elicia gave that due consideration before offering a slow nod. "Will have to do," she decided, before turning to Ed and holding up her arms. "Lucky hug!" she ordered.
Ed laughed and obediently picked her up, then turned to Bob. "It's not quite time yet, I don't think?"
"Not quite," Bob agreed, "but I do have some off-air prep questions for you." Ed nodded in understanding, as both Grumman and Mustang had told him to get there early so they could go over some things before their scheduled time slot. "Now, since this request came from the Führer's office, should I take that to mean you remained with the military?"
"It didn't say in the request?" Ed asked, frowning.
Bob shook his head. "All I was told this morning was that the Fullmetal Alchemist was coming in for an interview. I never actually saw the official paperwork."
"Ah. Then, yes, to answer your question: I'm still with the military and I've been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel."
Bob's eyes widened. "Right, sorry. Should have greeted you as Lieutenant Colonel Elric, then."
Ed sighed. "Technically," he admitted, "but I don't actually care."
Bob laughed at that, and Ed hadn't realised the man's shoulders had tensed until they'd relaxed. "Still not a military man?"
Elicia giggled and shook her head. "Nu-uh. Big Brother says the military are a bunch of poo-heads."
"Oh dear," Gracia said as Ed snorted and Bob laughed again. "Come here, Elicia."
Ed kissed Elicia's cheek, then handed her off to her mother. "Just please don't call your Uncle Roy that," he requested of her. "He might actually go through with that threat to make me inspect the moat for imperfections."
Elicia's responding giggle made it clear that Mustang would be called a 'poo-head' sometime in the near future; Ed couldn't even pretend he'd regret it.
Bob glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall. "Right, we've got a few more minutes. People – especially those in the military – usually have topics that I'm not allowed to ask about. Do you have any?"
Ed grimaced and nodded. "Yeah. I'm afraid I can't say anything about my current assignment, so if we can just avoid all mention of that, it would be awesome."
Bob gave a slow nod. "Fair enough. Anything else?"
Ed shrugged. "If I can't or won't answer something, I'm not afraid of saying so on the air."
"Right. Let me get my sound guy in here, then, and we can go in."
Bob poked his head out of the room and motioned to someone out in the hall, and a man wearing a personal radio on his belt and headphones that were skewed on his head came in directly with two pitchers of water and four cups. One pitcher and two cups were handed to Bob, who motioned for Ed to join him in the sound booth, before the man turned to making the Hugheses comfortable.
"He'll get the sound on for them and let us know when we're on air," Bob promised as the door hissed closed behind them. "Please have a seat."
"Ah, thanks." Ed settled carefully in the chair he'd been motioned towards and accepted the glass Bob passed him after he'd filled it. He could see Elicia and Gracia if he turned his head, and he felt a smile tugging at his mouth as he watched Elicia chatter at the two adults in the outer room with her.
The pitcher was left in easy reach for both of them and Bob sat down. "Nervous?" he asked.
Ed grimaced and shrugged. "Usually," he offered, and the words came out dry, "I solve issues with alchemy. Or punching them. This–" he motioned to the room around them "–is more old man Grumman or Mustang's thing than mine."
Bob tilted his head to the side. "If I may ask, why are you here?"
Ed looked out at Elicia and Gracia. "Because I can't sit back and watch Amestris fall apart. Not again."
Bob was quiet for a long moment, until his man in the outer room held up a hand, two fingers extended. "Right, two minutes," he warned, straightening. "If you've got notes or anything–" He stopped as Ed pulled out the notecards he'd been given by Grumman, which Lois had helpfully added to, as evidenced by the one on the top of the stack, which said 'NO F-WORDS'. Bob snorted. "Well then."
Ed shook his head. "I have a friend who thinks she's helpful."
Bob chuckled, turning to watch as his man outside put down a finger. "It's not a bad suggestion," he pointed out, and Ed snorted as he separated the cards into two piles: one of Lois' helpful reminders about not cursing and using people's titles and the such, the other of the notes he'd need to help keep to the official story surrounding the events of the Promised Day, should that come up. "Right, I'm going to introduce you first, so keep quiet until I've cued you," Bob ordered as his man started counting down on his fingers.
"Got it." Ed glanced past the sound guy and smiled at Elicia, who immediately started waving at him. Gracia laughed beside her before trying to get her to settle down.
"You're listening to Radio Capital," Bob started, and Ed turned back to him, "your number one channel for news from Central City! I'm your host, Bob Siegel, and I have with me a most auspicious guest–" Ed grimaced "–this afternoon, known best by his military-given title, the Fullmetal Alchemist: Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric." He turned his gaze on Ed. "So, Ed, big promotion; how does that feel?"
Ed snorted. "Remarkably like I'm still a normal State Alchemist, except more people have to listen when I tell them to shut their traps."
Bob laughed at that. "I'm sure that's come in handy."
"Once or twice. I haven't had it very long, you realise."
Bob folded his fingers together on the table in front of him. "So, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't State Alchemists need to go through command training to be given any rank above major?"
"Don't remind me," Ed muttered and Bob's mouth kicked up on one side before he unfolded his hands and motioned for him to expound on that. Ed sighed. "Yeah, command training was a thing. We graduated a couple days ago and it was– Okay. Tedious. Lots of trying to get you to salute ranking officers and figure out that whole 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' nonsense."
Bob choked out a startled laugh. "How's that working out for you?"
"Still haven't quite figured out the saluting," Ed admitted, "but I've sorted out the 'sir's. I think."
"You think," Bob repeated, looking way too amused.
Ed shrugged. "Sometimes I forget and substitute something else. Which, ah, I'm not allowed to say on the air, so–" He coughed and shook his head. "One of the cadets in my squad referred to it as his 'favourite of my court-martial worthy ticks'."
"You might want to work on that," Bob suggested.
"Tell me about it."
Bob shook his head and very clearly shifted tracks. "So, I thought command training was only three months, but it's been almost a year since the last we heard anything from you, and that was that you were in hospital. What happened there?"
Ed shrugged. "Both my brother, Al, and I got wounded during the events in Central, and Al had a long recovery ahead of him. Old ma– sorry, Führer Grumman dropped by the second week we were in hospital and asked if I wanted to stick with the military. I said yeah, sure, but Al had to come first, right? So Grumman gave me a year's worth of leave to see Al back on his feet, and gave me the option of taking a promotion or sticking to my original commission, which I had until my leave was up to decide."
Bob blinked a few times. "Well, that was..."
Ed flashed him a knowing smile. "Not at all how the media is painting him?" he suggested, and Bob grimaced. "Yeah, sorry, I actually like our Führer. Even if I do want to punch him in the face every time he laughs."
Bob blinked at him, then glanced down at Ed's line of notecards from Lois. "I feel like I should point out that you have a notecard you're disregarding," he commented, and, as Ed glanced down at them, continued, "One of the lieutenant colonel's friends sent him in with a few reminders."
Ed picked up the card that said 'DO NOT INSULT ANY OF YOUR COMMANDING OFFICERS'. "Is it really an insult if I say I want to punch him in the face?" he asked. "I mean, if you think about it, I'm really just stabbing myself in the foot, here, because the next time I see him he's just going to start laughing at me."
"Is that–" Bob coughed, as though that would hide his amusement. "I'm sorry. Is this a common problem for you?"
"Which one: The urge to punch my commanding officers? Or my commanding officers getting me back for my being difficult by driving me insane?"
"I'm going to take that as a yes on both fronts."
"Good plan."
Bob shook his head. "So, his laughter aside, you like Führer Grumman?"
Ed straightened, and settled himself into a more serious mind-set. "When I first joined the military, before 'the Fullmetal Alchemist' became synonymous with 'the People's Alchemist', showing people – both members of the military and civilians – my pocket watch, immediately painted me, in their minds, as a sort of greedy little sh– sorry, ah, kid, who had way too much power and didn't care for anyone other than himself. Which, yeah, okay, I'll give you the having too much power part, but it was the not caring part that people always got hung up on.
"See, here's the thing: People see the military as this giant war machine made up of jerks who just want an excuse to hurt people. And, yeah, there are people like that in the military, sure, and we had a huge number of them sitting at the top when Bradley was in charge, as evidenced by everything that went down last year, but wearing Amestris-blue doesn't automatically turn you into some power-hungry murderer; I'd like to think I'm proof enough of that, if nothing else."
"But you've never worn the uniform before," Bob pointed out.
Ed shook his head. "Not until January," he agreed, "but the State Alchemist pocket watch has the same connotations, and I've been carrying one of those since I was twelve." He sighed. "Here's the thing: I'm not the only good person in the military – I never have been – I'm just the one who gets all the acclaim."
Bob shook his head. "I'm not sure I understand."
"All my travels, every mission I've ever gone on, was handed to me by my commanding officer, the now Brigadier General Mustang. And every one of those missions had to be approved by his commanding officer, who is now our Führer."
Bob raised his eyebrows at Ed. "You're saying we should really be calling Führer Grumman the People's Alchemist."
Ed snorted. "No. For one, I'm fairly certain he doesn't have any alchemic talent. For another, my actions were always my own, once I got my mission. But, you know, him and Mustang, one of them always had to be the one to pick through a report and spot that something fishy, that one little warning sign that something was going down, and they had to be the ones to think, 'Let's send Fullmetal out there to shake things up'. Maybe I did the shaking, but they're the ones who pointed me towards the problem."
He sighed and shook his head. "Look, it's a matter of accountability, I think, when you get right down to it. Everyone wants their leaders to care, and Bradley's regime was really good about not caring, or only caring about expanding our borders, really, I guess. But Grumman, when you step back and stop bi– sorry, complaining about how he got the office, you see that he does care. Maybe there aren't as many jobs in weapons development, and the military academy is accepting fewer cadets, but there's so much more money going into the hospitals, they're extending train lines to areas that weren't originally accessible, and we're rebuilding what was damaged by the military, like Ishval.
"That's– I'm sorry, but that sounds a lot like what people have always wanted from the military, to me. It's focussing on everything inside our borders, rather than looking outside them for trouble. And instead of focussing on that, instead of saying, 'Look, Führer Grumman gives a fu– cares', his critics are pointing at Bradley's legacy and saying, 'Führer Grumman doesn't care about defending our borders', or they complain about how Mustang's focussing too much on Ishval, or that Major General Armstrong is still up at Briggs, even though her men fought the Central soldiers last year."
Bob frowned at him. "You disagree that Armstrong and her men shouldn't be punished for attacking Central soldiers?"
Ed sighed. "I'm never going to be okay with how much blood Briggs spilt last year, but everyone seems to forget, too, that the Central soldiers were receiving orders from Clemin and Edison and their fellow traitors, like how they should shoot Mrs Bradley, and Briggs is big about 'shoot first', because they have to, against Drachma. So, yeah, they killed a lot of our own, and that's sh–crap, that is so much crap, but they weren't the first ones to fire a gun. And, honestly, have you ever been up to Briggs? It's fu–freaking cold up there, okay? You think getting posted up there is less of a punishment than life in a nice, warm prison cell?"
Bob let out a choked sound, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Ed shrugged. "And Armstrong, honestly, she terrifies me; I wouldn't trust anyone else to guard our northern border."
Bob did laugh, then, shaking his head. "So you're behind the military. That's new for you."
Ed shook his head. "No. I don't like putting it like that, because that makes me sound like I've fallen in line, which I haven't. I think, instead, it's more that the military is behind the people. Or you can say they fell in line behind me, if you really want to put me on a pedestal, which people do, and I've got things to say about that which I'm not allowed to say on the air–" Bob coughed "–but, yeah, the military and I are on the same page right now. Sure."
Ed and Bob both looked over as the sound guy waved one hand at them in a gesture that looked a little like 'finish up'.
Bob nodded. "Okay, it looks like we're coming to the end of our segment. I do have one last question for you, Ed, if you're willing?"
"Go for it."
"Before we started, I asked you why you were here, since interviews aren't really your thing." Ed gave a cautious nod. "For our listeners, could you repeat what you told me?"
"Not verbatim."
Bob smiled. "As close as you can, then."
Ed sighed and sat back in his chair, eyes moving, without his conscious thought, towards the Hugheses in the outer room. "Because this is my home," he offered to Gracia's encouraging smile, before looking back at Bob and the microphone between them. "There's people I care about here; in Central, down south, out east; people who helped me when I needed a hand, who're going to help me in future. Because there are a lot of good people in Amestris, and there are things that alchemy can't hold together, which, sometimes, I'm finding, words can.
"Because I've stood at the centre and watched Amestris fall apart once, and if it's within my power – what little I have – to keep that from happening again, then what kind of person would I be if I gave it any less than my all?"
Bob swallowed and nodded. "Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric, everyone, the People's Alchemist," he said, and his voice sounded rougher than it had before.
Ed squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw against the urge to snarl about that. Pedestals. Fucking shit.
There was a long silence, then Bob said, "We're off air, then. Thank you."
Ed opened his eyes and found a hand being held out to him. "Yeah," he said, taking the offered hand. "Thanks for letting me have my say about supporting old man Grumman. I know it's kind of an unpopular opinion."
"Not for much longer, I expect," Bob pointed out.
Ed withdrew his hand and started collecting his notecards. "Is it weird," he said quietly, "that that just makes me feel dirty?"
Bob frowned. "Do you not actually support Grumman, then?"
Ed glanced towards the window to the outer room. "Can they hear us right now?"
Bob glanced down at a small panel at the base of the window to the sound room, which was completely dark. "No," he promised, still frowning.
Ed nodded. "The thing I've learnt is, really, you don't have to like a person to agree with them, and I don't really like Grumman, on a personal level. His laugh is fucking obnoxious, no lie, and he's got the same smug little smirk that Mustang always puts on when he's looking to piss me off, and he's actually kind of a manipulative bastard. But–" Ed shrugged and stood "–all of his policies, everything he wants to do for Amestris? They're the same things I want. So, you know, as Führer, I'm one hundred percent on board, absolutely, all the way. But if I could go the rest of my life never standing in the same room as him again, I'd be okay with that."
Bob let out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough. So, why does it bother you so much that you're probably going to change public opinion about him over night? That's sort of why you came here, right?"
Ed sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, but I'm only sixteen, okay? It really bothers me that most of this country is willing to change their minds because I say so. No one should have that kind of power, least of all me." Then he turned and stepped from the room, forcing on a smile for Elicia as she dashed across the room towards him. "How'd I do?" he asked as he caught her in a hug.
"You were amazing!" Elicia declared, hugging him tight around the neck.
Ed managed a laugh as he carefully loosened her grip so he didn't choke.
Gracia joined them as the door behind Ed opened, Bob stepping out. "That was good, Ed," she promised, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "How about some sort of celebratory treat?"
"Ice cream!" Elicia ordered.
"Isn't it a little chilly for ice cream?" Ed replied drily.
Elicia sent him a betrayed look. "Uncle Roy says it's never too cold for ice cream," she informed him.
"Your Uncle Roy snaps his fingers and fire appears; he doesn't get a vote about temperatures."
Gracia laughed and gently led Ed from the room with a hand on his arm. "We'll stop by the bakery on the way home," she offered. "Everyone should be able to find something there, right?"
"Okay," Elicia agreed, slouching slightly in Ed's arms.
Ed squeezed his arms around her gently. "Hey, you can pick out something for your Uncle Roy, right? Ice cream would be all melted by the time we got it back to him, but bakery goods'll last."
That cheered Elicia up, and they spent way more time than Ed thought was necessary picking out treats for Mustang and – because he sort of halfway expected she'd drop by, since Gracia had told her she could – Lois.
Lois was indeed there, and she'd greeted Ed with a laugh and a hug, before pulling back and slugging him. "I can't believe you admitted to wanting to punch the Führer on the radio!"
Mustang, who was in the process of being given his treat by Elicia, let out a loud laugh that made Lois jump. "Of course Fullmetal would say he wanted to punch someone on the air. I'm more impressed he managed to stop himself from cursing."
"Shut up," Ed ordered.
"Well, stop himself from completing any expletives," the bastard corrected.
Ed pointed a finger at him and mouthed, 'Fuck you, bastard.'
Lois sighed and called, "Elicia, I think your big brother needs a tea party."
"Traitor," Ed managed to whisper before he got dragged off by an extremely cheerful Elicia.
Later, after Lois had gone back to the hotel – she really did like Elicia, Ed knew, but she could only visit for so long before she felt like she was intruding, especially with Mustang there – and Elicia had settled down for a short nap before dinner, Ed sat down with one of Gracia's photo albums. It was an older one, most of the pictures taken by Hughes, and the only one with any pictures of him, save for the two on the mantel.
Ed was staring down at a picture of the man standing between Al and Ed – his own expression very put upon, while Hughes was grinning like the lunatic he'd been – when Mustang announced himself by quietly commenting, "Maes always said he'd joined the military to protect the woman he would one day marry."
Ed glanced back at where he was standing behind the couch. "Gracia?" he guessed.
"Eventually," Mustang agreed, before nodding towards the album Ed was holding. "What you said, at the end, it reminded me of him; he'd have been proud of you."
Ed swallowed and stared down at Hughes' grin. "Yeah."
Mustang sighed and the back of the couch shifted as he leant forward, casual in a way that was becoming worryingly comfortable. "He'd also probably have punched me because I didn't even try talking you out of staying in the military."
Ed snorted. "Screw that. He'd have been in my hospital room first thing, shoving the resignation papers at me." He glanced over at Mustang as the man let out his own snort. "He'd have been the one to drag you out of bed, not me, I bet."
"Yeah. He'd probably have been the one doing all the reading, too. Interspersed with descriptions of his most recent pictures of Elicia and Gracia."
Ed couldn't help a laugh at that. "Damn, I missed that trick, didn't I?"
"Too late now," Mustang insisted, before Ed could offer to describe something in the album.
Ed shook his head and turned the page. "I wouldn't have listened, you know," he offered. "To him or you."
Mustang was quiet until Ed had turned another page, then he admitted, "I know." He touched Ed's shoulder and he glanced over at him, meeting solemn black eyes. "Thank you."
They were way too fucking close, and Ed swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly-parched throat. "Yeah," he whispered, forcing himself to look away, to turn back to the pictures. "Someone's gotta be here to kick your arse."
Mustang's responding snort was too quiet, too comfortable, and, fuck, Ed needed to get out, needed to destroy something, because what the fuck? What was happening to them? How had they become people who could look at a photo album together and fucking be friendly? What had happened to the familiar angry insults slung across a desk?
Why had he just had the urge to lean in and kiss the bastard?
"When are you leaving?" Mustang asked.
Ed sighed and drooped back against the couch, his shoulder brushing against the bastard's arm. Elicia grinned up at him from the pages in his lap and guilt over his coming departure swept away whatever had just happened. Or hadn't happened. "There's a train tonight. Ten." And as much as he wanted to stay in Central, keep from breaking Elicia's heart by leaving her again, he needed to get out to Darius and Heinkel, had already sent word that he'd be on that train with the last bit of post he'd sent via Chris from the academy. "You?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," Mustang admitted, and he sounded like he was looking forward to leaving as much as Ed was. "I expect that's the same train Second Lieutenant Hansa will be catching."
Ed nodded, because, yeah, Lois had said her train was the day after Ed's. "Probably." He glanced towards Mustang, found him staring down at the album in Ed's lap, so he quickly turned the page. "I told old man Grumman I'd be keeping you informed."
Mustang snorted. "What did he say?"
"Warned me that any leaks could mean the lives of my team."
"He's not wrong," Mustang admitted, and Ed glanced over at him again, found him watching Ed with tired eyes. "There's a reason I haven't been able to get any sensitive information."
"I trust Marie," Ed returned. "And I don't answer to Grumman, I answer to you."
"That could have–"
"Don't."
They were both quiet as Ed turned another page. And then another. And then a third.
"Be careful out there, Ed," Mustang whispered at last, and it sounded more like a plea than an order.
It seemed strangely fitting to quietly return, "Right back at you, Roy."
He glanced over at Mustang and found the man watching him, a tired smile turning his mouth.
Then Mustang straightened, one hand lightly squeezing Ed's shoulder before he withdrew to, from the sound of his footsteps, the kitchen.
And Ed was left with the singular thought: 'He let me use his name.'
Final goodbyes with Elicia had been, expectedly, heart-breaking. At least he'd been able to promise regular phone calls, that time, which was better than when he'd left for the academy.
Still, it sucked, and he actually felt kind of bad about leaving Mustang to say the last goodbye, because both of them leaving was so much worse than it just being one of them. (Just as it had been when Ed and Al had both left. And, dammit, he was making a habit of being the first to leave, wasn't he?)
Ed fell asleep before they'd left the lights of Central behind, and he didn't wake up until someone nudged him. "Hey, imagine seeing you here," a familiar voice offered.
Ed blinked up at the two forms standing above him in military blue, his sleep-heavy mind struggling to figure out why they were there. "Oscar?" he mumbled, "Keith?"
Oscar Pascale laughed and dropped heavily onto the bench next to Ed. "Yup!"
Keith Piasecki settled far more purposefully on the bench across from Ed. "We're at Roth," he offered, naming the town that served as the connection point for the Central-West line and Central's outer loop line, and Ed realised that, yeah, the train was stopped. "Sorry to have woken you."
Ed shook his head and straightened, his mind finally starting to wake up a bit more. "No, you're fine," he promised, reaching up to wipe at some of the crud in his eyes. "I really shouldn't be falling asleep on trains when I'm travelling by myself, anyway." And, fuck, he missed Al.
"Probably not," Keith agreed.
Oscar bumped Ed's shoulder with his. "That's cool. We're here now."
Ed turned to stare at Oscar's wide grin for a moment before looking back at Keith, whose mouth kicked up at one side with a knowing sort of smile. "Like I said," Ed offered, the words dry, "I probably shouldn't sleep on trains."
Keith snorted while Oscar let out a pathetic noise and shoved Ed's shoulder. "What did I ever do to you?" Oscar complained. "I've been good."
" 'Good' is a relative term."
Keith shook his head and, while Oscar huffed and pouted next to Ed, asked, "I know you said you were headed west, but where are you getting off?"
Ed frowned. Darius had said something about meeting him in West City at the beginning of the month, but that had never really been solidified, and while he knew where the hideout of the pro-Bradley group Heinkel was with was, he really didn't want to go in blind. "West City," he decided. If Darius wasn't there, he could catch the next train out to Lisberth and either (hopefully) meet Darius there, instead, or just start heading north on the road. (And he really needed to talk those two arseholes into giving him more than a half-joking crash course in driving, because if they kept going places with no train access, he was going to get really fucking sick of catching them up on foot.)
Oscar perked up next to him. "Hey, we really are travelling together!"
Keith, the traitor, just starting laughing at Ed's sigh.
They pulled into West City late the next evening, not quite twenty-four hours after leaving Central. (And, holy shit, Ed would never fucking complain about how long it took to get to East City from Central ever again.)
He and Oscar waved to Keith – who would be be continuing all the way to the end of the line, then catch a car out to the military camp his mother and younger brother were at on the Cretan border, and Ed actually felt kind of bad for him, because that was another day on the train – as they stepped off onto the platform, then started towards the entrance in step.
"You really should have changed," Oscar pointed out, because both he and Keith had commented on Ed's civilian wear when they'd seen the signs that they were getting close to the city.
Ed sighed. "Why?" he complained for what felt like the twentieth time. "I'm not reporting in anywhere, not tonight–" the train getting in late had actually been good for that, since he didn't have to explain that his orders didn't fall under the jurisdiction of the West City commander "–so why would I bother changing into it just to get off the train and find a hotel?"
"So you could stay in the dorms?" Oscar suggested.
Ed shot him a flat look. "I'd rather drop money on a hotel room, thanks."
Oscar sighed. "It's expected?" he offered, and the tone of his voice made it clear he was expecting to get laughed at for that.
Ed was happy to serve.
"Is that a runt I hear?" Darius' voice called out from just off to the left.
Ed turned in the direction it had come from, snarling, "You wanna say that to my fucking face, monkey-brain?"
"What?" Oscar said next to him, probably not having noticed Darius' comment over the sounds of the station.
Darius came into view just past the straggling travellers, a confused look on his face as he looked over the crowd. He was – Ed couldn't help but notice, given the topic he'd just been debating – wearing his familiar civilian jumper. "I would if I could find you," he offered.
Ed darted around a couple of kids stumbling along after their mum and aimed an uppercut to the underside of Darius' jaw, which the arsehole dodged with a laugh. "You wanna fucking die?"
Darius caught his next punch in one hand with a wince. "Hey, Ed," he offered, holding up his other hand in a sign of peace.
Ed pointed his free hand at him. "Start that shit with me again and I'll alchemise your sleeping gear into something embarrassing overnight," he threatened.
Darius coughed and let Ed's hand go with a grimace. "You know, I almost thought I missed you for, I dunno, half a second. It was a little weird, so thanks for reminding me you're a pain in my arse."
Ed raised an eyebrow at that opening. "Your sleeping gear certainly will be," he agreed, and Darius' responding laugh was as apprehensive as it was amused.
"Hey, Ed?" Oscar called, reminding him that he hadn't got off the train alone.
Ed winced, then turned to his former classmate. "Hey. Oscar, this is Second Lieutenant Darius Wright, part of my team. Darius, Second Lieutenant Oscar Pascale, who was in training with me."
Darius held out a hand before Oscar could salute. "Greetings."
Oscar let out an amused huff and took the offered hand for a polite shake. "I don't know why I'm surprised that Ed's team follows protocol as well as he does."
"You want my partner for regulations," Darius replied. "I'm perfectly happy having a commander who thinks salutes are a waste of time."
"I never said that," Ed insisted.
Darius flashed him a smile that was one hundred percent trouble. "I'm extrapolating; what you actually called it, I'm fairly certain, was something more commonly heard in a brothel."
Ed rolled his eyes while Oscar let out an embarrassed noise and covered his face. "I think I need to go home," Oscar complained. "Away from this whole conversation."
Darius, of course, practically howled with laughter.
"Ignore him," Ed suggested. "I sometimes wonder if he wasn't somehow combined with a donkey; it's the only explanation for how much of an ass he is."
Darius shoved at his shoulder hard enough that Ed had to step forward with one foot or fall over. "Fuck you too, Ed."
Oscar shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow at Command?" he suggested.
Ed frowned, but before he could come up with an excuse about why he wouldn't be going by West Command, Darius agreed, "Sure. We've got a meeting with Brigadier General Komar at oh-eight-hundred."
Ed stiffened and turned a stare on the chimera, because what? When the fuck had that happened?
Darius caught his eyes and gave a whisper of a nod, then offered, "There's this diner next block over from our hotel that stays open late, if you want dinner?"
Ed forced a smile because it was expected, and his voice came out impossibly casual as he agreed, "After a day of train food? You better fucking believe it."
Oscar let out an amused sound. "Yeah, good point. Maybe I'll be lucky and my mum'll have some leftovers I can filch for free."
Ed snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that, cheapskate."
Oscar waved a careless hand over his shoulder as he walked away.
"This way," Darius murmured and led the way out of the station in the opposite direction from Oscar.
The diner wasn't far, and was still reasonably busy, despite it being after most people went for dinner. Darius requested a booth that had good lines of sight from both benches, and Ed tossed his battered suitcase across his side before dropping into the seat with a sigh that was only half for show. Their waitress smiled at him like she understood and politely took their drinks order before leaving them to the menu.
Ed waited until she'd left again with their food orders before quietly demanding, "What went wrong?"
Darius sighed. "This is why I didn't tell you to just meet me at West Command. You always jump to the–"
"Darius," Ed interrupted, unamused.
The chimera sighed again and stirred his water with his straw, ice clinking. "Look, we know how many are in there, we've got the layout of the place, everything. Heinkel and I talked it over, and we can go in, just the three of us, and hope we come out the other side with only minor wounds, or we can pull some people from West Command and take it down properly."
Ed stared down at his hands, folded around his own water glass, condensation seeping into his gloves. Finding a safe way to handle the group had never occurred to him. He was far too used to just running in and damn the consequences, and it seemed that no amount of command training was going to cure him of that, which fucking sucked. "I'm an idiot," he admitted.
Darius scoffed. "No," he disagreed, and Ed glanced up at him, feeling tired and a little stupid. "You're just not used to playing by the rules."
Ed snorted. "That's a very pretty way of saying I'm not military material."
They were both quiet as their waitress brought over their food, beyond the expected offer of gratitude for the quick service.
Once she'd left again, Darius offered, "I heard the broadcast."
Ed raised an eyebrow at him silently, mouth full.
Darius shook his head. "Sounds to me, Ed, like you're exactly what the military needs."
Ed swallowed. "Save the whole saluting shit and, clearly, asking for help."
Darius smirked at him from behind his burger. "Can't help you with the first one, but we can work on the asking for help thing."
Ed snorted and went back to making his way through his meal, which was fantastic, and he was absolutely coming back here next time he was in West City. Which was almost certain to happen if he kept his loose leash. (And he would keep his loose leash, because there was no way he'd let himself be tied down to a desk like Mustang had done.)
It occurred to him, once they'd paid and were heading back to the hotel: "Does old man Grumman know we're calling in at West Command?"
Darius was quiet for a telling moment before admitting, "No."
Yeah, that's what Ed was afraid of. He sighed and shook his head. "Like West Command wasn't going to find out we were playing in their sandbox the first time I levelled a building," he muttered and Darius laughed. "Fuck it; what time are we due at Command? Eight?"
"Yes."
"Fine. I'll see if I can't ring the bastard before we're due in."
"You know, I also can't help you with that respect problem you have," Darius pointed out as he held open the hotel's front door for Ed.
"Fuck you."
Darius did his disturbing eyebrow wiggle. "Was that an offer?"
Ed rolled his eyes and shoved the chimera towards the stairs. "Ask me again after it sinks in that I'm not going to be demolishing any buildings because you arseholes decided to be fucking responsible."
Darius coughed. "Did we cover how angry alchemist sex is not one of my kinks?"
"Might have come up," Ed allowed.
Darius stopped at the landing and looked back down at him, his expression so completely serious, Ed almost lost it. "We might have to go through a refresher."
"Might do," Ed admitted. "But you're still not getting any sex tonight."
Down in the lobby, someone let out a choked noise.
Somehow, they made it back to Darius' room before they both cracked up, Ed dropping back against the closed door, while Darius bowed over in the middle of the room, both of them holding their stomachs.
As they both started to calm down, Darius held back his fist towards Ed, who reached out and bumped it with his own. "I really did miss you, Ed," the chimera offered.
"I missed you arseholes, too," Ed admitted, pushing away from the door and heading for the bed that didn't have Darius' suitcase on it. He tossed his own on the bedspread and turned back to Darius with a smile that felt way too fond. "Thanks. For sticking it out with me."
Darius smiled back at him, just as fond. "Well, it was you or the circus."
Ed snorted at the image that conjured. "You I can see; not so sure about Heinkel, though."
"It was his suggestion," Darius offered, his eyes glinting.
Ed scoffed, not sure he believed him, and turned to open his suitcase. "Yeah, whatever. I'm going to bed."
Darius chuckled at that, but followed suit without further comment.
Come What May Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07 ||
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
.
