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batsutousaiTitle: Reverti Ad Praeteritum
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood/manga
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes, post-Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Warnings: Spoilers like whoa, Ed's potty mouth, canon-typical violence, pile 'o OCs, mute!Ed, original character death, angst, fluff, past dub-con, past adultery, Ed has all the guilt
Summary: Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.
Key: "Speech" | 'Mouthing words'
'Writing'
:Sign Language:
"In another language" | 'In another language'
A/N: Had a number of people ask about the Tringham brothers, especially in regards to the Blooming Alchemist. So! I've never read the light novels, and this story is canon to Brotherhood and the manga, not the '03 anime, so the Tringham brothers will not be making an appearance. (Likely not in any of my fics, sorry. Fletcher's a sweetheart, but I'm with Ed; Russell rubs me the wrong way. :P)
The idea for a plant alchemist was inspired by them, but Blooming has no history with the red water or anything related to the Philosopher's Stones, so his plant alchemy focus is a fair bit different from the Tringhams.
For everyone who's been asking about Al, there's a bit to answer that in this chapter.
Chapter Eleven
-0-
By the second week of Ed inspecting the labs on his own, he'd realised he could tackle lab three and the chimeras, then make a beeline for lab two, where Blooming was happy to let him hide in the greenhouse until he felt settled enough to face the continuation of his duty.
The third week of this, Blooming came to sit on the edge of a planter next to where Ed was moving smoothly through one of his kata, his expression curious. Ed finished that set, then tilted his head in enquiry.
Blooming considered him for a moment, then said, "It's not that I mind, really, but I am kind of curious why you keep running in here looking like you've seen hell. Should I be worried about something they're working on in another lab?"
Ed offered him a tired look and came over to settle on the floor, leaning back against the planter and pulling out his journal to write, 'Chimera research'
"Ah." Blooming shifted, folding forward so he could glance past Ed's bangs and catch his gaze. "If it disturbs you, why go?"
Ed stared down at his journal for a moment, before writing, 'I've seen what happens when you don't watch those fuckers'
Blooming raised his head and looked across the greenhouse, though Ed suspected he wasn't really seeing it. "It was big news, a little over a year ago, I think: Some chimera alchemist impressed the examiners with a chimera that spoke. Something about it got the Flame Alchemist suspicious, I guess, because he started asking some really awkward questions, and it came out the guy used his wife." He looked back over at Ed. "It was a huge mess."
Ed shrugged and nodded. 'I heard,' he wrote. 'My brother + I were in Xing'
Blooming hummed. "You live with that man's daughter, don't you?"
'Nina,' Ed wrote as an admission. 'She doesn't remem what happened'
"That's good," Blooming decided, fiddling with his wedding ring, a habit of his that Ed had noticed he usually did when he was upset or sad, never when he was happy. "Not that she won't remember her mother, I mean–"
Ed waved a hand at him, shaking his head. When Blooming blinked at him in confusion, Ed wrote, 'She remems her blood parents a lil + Mustang saved a photo of them. It's on the mantle'
"Oh, that was nice of him. And of her adopted parents, too."
Ed nodded. 'They keep telling me I should have my brother send a pic of our mum so we can have her to remem too.' He snorted and shook his head. 'Lt Col Hughes has a thing about photos'
"Your mother is...gone?" Blooming asked delicately, and Ed noticed he'd stopped twisting his ring, was almost clutching it around his finger.
'She died when I was 5'
"Oh."
Ed peeked up at him, considering the well of old grief that was far more obvious in his qi, but still visible on his face, then wrote, 'When did your wife die?'
Blooming startled a bit as he read that, then winced. "Ah, it's that obvious?"
Ed shrugged. 'Right now,' he offered.
Blooming glanced down at where he was clutching his ring and cleared his throat, very firmly letting it go. "Six years," he admitted, at last. "My eldest was about the same age you were, I guess. Five. I was afraid she wouldn't remember her any, but she does. I'm glad. A girl should have memories of her mother." He slumped slightly. "Her sister, my youngest, she doesn't. I guess my sister-in-law is serving, but still..."
'It's hard,' Ed wrote, 'but they still have you right?'
"Yes. I'd like to think I'm...enough. I don't know that I am. I work so often."
'At least you come home,' Ed couldn't keep himself from writing. He clenched his jaw as he stared down at the words, feeling the flicker of surprise, followed by pity in Blooming's qi. 'We should get started,' he wrote roughly, before pushing himself to his feet.
"I didn't mean to upset you," Blooming apologised as Ed snagged his abandoned jacket.
Ed led the way up to Blooming's main lab, gritting his teeth against the reappearance of the Stones. Once up there, he wrote, 'I upset myself,' then motioned for the man to show him what they'd been working on of late, after he'd read it.
At least, in this, he could soothe himself with the reminder that he'd be able to punch Hohenheim in the face within the year. It helped.
Al took to sending weekly letters, updating Ed about everyone he made friends with in East City, which ended up being far more people than Ed had ever done. But, then, his brother was easy to like, and he was actually staying in East, rather than travelling all over everywhere. He'd also mentioned using the on-base gym for running through his katas, which is where he'd made friends with a fair number of people, after beating a couple of idiots – Ed's conclusion, not Al's; seriously, who was going to try taking on a kid? – in a spar. (Ed had eventually followed his example, admittedly, cutting his lunch breaks short to go run through his own katas in the Central Command gym, on days he didn't end up in the greenhouse; so far, no one had challenged him, but he'd apparently picked a time when the place was almost completely abandoned, which actually suited him, so...)
In return, Ed got in the habit of writing his brother back, telling him about any interesting research in the labs, or bitching about translating the millionth supply request, and always, always slipping in pictures from Hughes. (Some of them actually of Hughes, once the protective idiot finally agreed to show Ed how to work his precious camera and handed it over.) He'd also passed on word of the group trying to figure out Mustang's array, and when Al said he'd shared that and the bastard had laughed like the bastard he was, Ed couldn't help passing on more about them, because they had some pretty spectacular failures, and they always recorded them in exacting detail, which was Ed's favourite part. (Research alchemists were good for that, actually; he had no interest in setting himself up as one, but reading their reports were often the best part of any visit, save the chimera labs.)
At the end of December, though, Al broke pattern by calling the Hughes house a little after dinner, while Ed was washing up the dishes and Hughes and Nina were 'helping'. Gracia had been the one to answer the phone, and Ed and Hughes had both turned to stare when she said, "Oh, Al! This is a surprise! Did you want to talk to– Ed?"
Ed looked at Hughes, who raised an interested eyebrow, then motioned for him to go ahead, catching Nina when she made to follow.
Ed took the handset with a one-handed, :Thank you,: then whistled into the speaker.
Al let out a quiet noise of distress. "I guess there's no helping the feedback," he complained in Xingan.
Ed snorted.
"Yeah, well, I wrote it in my letter, but I figured I'd ring you first so you could...get everything out of your system without ripping the letter."
Ed narrowed his eyes at the wall and let out a quiet whistle that, he hoped, got across how much he did not like the sound of that.
Al cleared his throat. "So, I know you said Scar is going to show up eventually, and we need to figure out what to say to him to catch his attention, and I figured, since we didn't have a real name for him, and you said it was sort of cultural, I'd...go ask his people?"
'You did WHAT?' Ed mouthed at the wall, before drawing in a deep breath–
"Oh hell," Al said.
–and letting out the loudest, most piercing whistle he could manage, directly into the speaker.
From the kitchen, Hughes said, "That doesn't sound good," and Nina giggled before trying to whistle herself, Elicia trying the same from the living room.
"...ow," Al said. "Thank you for breaking my eardrum, Brother."
Ed crossed his arms over his chest and let his silence speak for him.
Al cleared his throat. "In my defence, you have done WAY dumber stuff."
Ed started tapping his foot, not that Al would know.
Al cleared his throat again, slightly more nervous. "Okay, it was dumb, but I was fine. No one tried anything, they were all really nice, but I went in civvies and left my watch in my dorm, so that probably had a lot to do with it, and our sashes and my jian are very clearly NOT Amestrisan, which you know, so that helped too, a bit, I think. But they were–" He coughed. "Could you please make some sort of noise so I know you didn't storm off?"
Ed let out a loud sigh and rubbed tiredly at his face; Al was right, Ed had done stupider, and he really only had himself to blame for their current situation.
"Okay," Al said. "Thanks. Uhm, so the...I guess he's some sort of religious leader, I don't know, but he's the guy who they took me to when I started asking around. He said they believe their names are given to them by their god, and if they turn from that god and his teachings, they have to give up the right to their name. In their language, they call those people 'majhul', which I guess translates loosely to 'the nameless'? I did ask, too, about alchemists, since you said he uses destruction alchemy, and he said they call alchemists 'mulahad', which he wouldn't tell me what it was, but I'm guessing it's super rude, since they sort of hate us."
Ed snorted; that was an understatement.
"Yeah, understatement, I know. I did get him to write both of them down for me, proper spellings and all, so those are in the letter. Because... Okay, I know you said you had your run-in with him here, but you said he'd been active in Central before that, and I..." Al paused and coughed. "I know you, and I know your luck. Even if you don't go looking for him, there's a good chance you'll run into him."
Oh, Al...
"So I thought you, well, you could use something to catch his attention, since you can't talk, and maybe something in his own language would help? I mean, you have some tricks up your sleeves, I know, but we're trying to keep that stuff secret, so...yeah. That. Sorry."
"Ed?" he heard from behind him, and turned to find Hughes standing a few paces away.
"Well, actually, I'm not sorry, really, because I don't want you hurt and all–" Al continued rambling.
Ed signed, :Can you tell my brother he's an idiot and I love him?: to Hughes, before holding out the handset.
Hughes smiled in understanding and took it. "Al?" he called, then let out a quiet chuckle at whatever Al said in response. "Your brother says you're an idiot and he loves you."
:Also, I'm going to murder him when I see him again,: Ed asked.
"Oh, and a promise of violence. Should I ask?" He laughed outright and shook his head. "Okay. Do you want to talk to Ed again?" He glanced at Ed, who shrugged. "Okay. No, he's shrugging. Yes, I'll tell him. Take care of yourself. We will. Goodbye, Al." He reached past Ed to hang up the handset, saying, "He says he loves you, too, and that if you die, he'll do something stupid."
Ed scoffed, even though he was actually sort of willing to believe that. (He didn't intend to die. It would be fine.)
"So, what did he do?"
:Took a page out of my book and put himself in danger,: Ed signed, and Hughes grimaced. He sighed and shook his head, adding, :I guess it turned out okay, but I'm still going to beat him up next time I see him.:
"No," Hughes muttered, shaking his head and turning to return to the kitchen, "I can't see the resemblance at all."
Ed just rolled his eyes.
In January, Ed found out about the first Scar killing when he overheard some assistants in lab four whispering about it while he was heading out. Rather than ask them for more information, he picked up a paper on his way to lunch, which turned out to be useless, then spent an hour annoying the shit out of Hughes until he gave him the details.
"It's weird, but hardly something to be worried about," Hughes insisted as Ed read over the sketchy details. They had no cause of death, no idea about who the killer was, or their motive, just that the victim had been a State Alchemist. One Ed had never met, and couldn't quite find it within himself to care about.
:I know who's doing it,: he signed once he'd handed the file back, and Hughes went very, very still. :I'm not worried about him, but you might consider putting a guard on every State Alchemist in the city.:
Hughes swallowed. :This is him. The scarred man who you want to ally with.:
Ed nodded.
Hughes caught the file and flipped the folder open, staring down at the photos of the crime scene – Ed knew those had been the real reason Hughes hadn't wanted him to see the file, but Ed was hardly new to images of death, and this wasn't the goriest, though it certainly made the top ten. "Be careful," he called as Ed made for the door.
Ed offered him a smile that felt too old. :I'm not going looking for him, if that makes you feel any better.:
"A little," Hughes allowed. "Are you going to let me put a guard on you?"
:No,: Ed admitted. :If I run into him, they'll just end up collateral damage.: Then he left the office to return to the pile of things waiting to be translated on his desk.
February started out with another State Alchemist dead. They still had no hints, but Hughes was finally able to push through the suggestion that all willing State Alchemists be accompanied by at least one guard at all times, given that two State Alchemists had now been killed in the same inexplicable manner.
A third was killed mid-February, and Bradley responded by ordering that all State Alchemists were required to have an armed escort outside of military installations and their homes. Hughes shrugged at Ed's irritated look when he passed on that announcement.
Ed decided to train his ninja skills by escaping his escort as often as possible. Hughes was resigned, his guards were beside themselves, and Grand, when he reported in about the labs that Friday, said, "The Führer would like me to remind you that all State Alchemists are required to be accompanied by a guard."
'Not my fault they're slow,' Ed wrote in response.
Grand's moustache twitched in that way that Ed was nearly positive meant he was trying not to laugh. "Silent, you were reported, and I quote, 'scaling a four-storey building like a monkey'."
Ed couldn't hide his grin. 'I wanted to know if I could'
(Spoiler: He'd managed it. It was awesome. Waving down at the aghast faces of his escort had probably been too much, but he hadn't been able to help himself. The fact that they hadn't been there to see him immediately trip over an exposed pipe and land on his face, had also been awesome. The 'not seeing it' part, not the 'landing on his face' part. That part had sucked. Also, it had required healing alkahestry and a lot of water to clean off all the blood from his abused nose.)
Grand coughed. "Please avoid being obvious about losing them in future, Silent."
Ed raised an eyebrow at him, Grand raised an eyebrow back.
They were both trained as martial artists, using their alchemy to augment their fighting abilities; having to be followed around by guards no doubt irritated Grand as much as it had been irritating Ed, and he would be honestly surprised to discover he was the only one receiving a formal reprimand from Bradley.
"Do we understand each other?" Grand asked.
Ed bowed. Yeah, he got that one pretty clear: Stop being obvious about ducking your guard, but I don't care if you keep roaming free, even though I'm supposed to.
(For being in Bradley's pocket, Grand was pretty okay.)
Ed had managed to dodge his guards again with the old double-back manoeuvre – you'd think they'd know better, but they kind of didn't, or Hughes had finally told them to just stop trying – when he heard yelling and gunshots from the next street over, accompanied, to his qi-sense, by feelings of terror and horror from more than one person, and absolute fury from a singular person, though nowhere near Bradley's level. Cocking his head, he headed in that direction, popping open his jacket so he could more easily reach into his sash for his store of kunai. He kept one in a wrist guard – courtesy of Hughes – but he always preferred to walk into a potential fight with easy access to his full store of weapons, not to mention having the ability to shrug off his jacket if it got in his way.
As he rounded the corner, he caught a flash of that yellow coat that he'd almost forgotten, dodging the bullets being shot by one of Ed's own guards. As he watched, something like horror crawling his throat, Scar darted forward and grabbed the man's head in his right hand.
'NO!' Ed shouted silently, as the guard was deconstructed.
Shit.
Shit. This was why he'd said no guards.
The other guard was clearly terrified, his shots going way wide, and Scar threw the body of the first guard at him before turning to a figure Ed had missed before, too distracted by the death of the guard. Even at a distance, Ed recognised that stupid moustache of Grand's, and the horror crawling his throat made a bid for his mouth when he realised the brigadier general's left arm was pinned by rubble.
Ed let out a sharp whistle, drawing Scar's and his remaining guard's attention. "Major, run!" the guard shouted, even as Ed pulled out his pocket watch and let it swing from one finger, before motioning Scar forward.
Scar glanced back at Grand's prone form, then clearly decided Ed was the better target for the moment – same as he'd once done when Mustang had approached while Ed was down, before – because he raced towards him, right hand drawn back.
Ed shoved his watch away and did a backflip, dodging Scar's first strike, and managing to land a hard kick to Scar's right shoulder with his automail. Before the man could grab for him again – with his left hand, since his right was hanging suspiciously limply – Ed was back on his feet and dancing backwards, waiting to see what Scar would do.
With a snap and a pop of bone, Scar shoved his shoulder back into place without his expression changing, then made a slow, careful roll of his right shoulder. Apparently deciding it was fine, Scar came at Ed again, reaching out with his right hand.
Ed dodged again, springing out of the way, then spun and started pelting down the street, aiming for the nearest uninhabited, cleared space he knew of, both because he didn't want to deal with the clean-up, and because he didn't want witnesses to him making friendly with a serial killer.
Being sure Scar was following him was easy – his qi was a very focussed arrow of hatred and rage, aimed straight at Ed, nearly overpowering the life-energy of other people nearby – so Ed didn't have to worry about glancing back to make certain, which meant he didn't have to slow down, which was fantastic.
Ed led them through one of the civilian warehouse districts, dodging between buildings, keeping Scar away from any overly-helpful afternoon guards on patrol. He nearly stumbled on the train tracks that marked the edge of the city proper, had to duck himself down into a roll and jab the kunai in his hand into the ground to use as a pivot to keep away from Scar, who was way closer than Ed had thought he was.
He kicked out with his right foot, caught Scar in the back of one knee with enough force to make him stumble, then nimbly twisted away from his reaching right arm.
There was a line of trees just ahead, likely marking the boundary of some rich, distinguished family's property, and no human life within the range of his qi-sense. The trees would serve as a good screen against anyone looking their way from inside the city, so Ed lurched to his feet, almost stumbled from a wash of dizziness – he did not have the stamina for city-wide chases, dammit, and he probably needed to work on that – and forced himself to run for the trees.
Scar let out an angry sound behind him and followed.
Ed tossed a kunai out ahead of him as soon as he cleared the trees, clapping his hands together and summoning a dirt wall as soon as it hit the ground, with writing on the front that spelt, 'I just want to talk!'
Ed vaulted over the growing wall as he reached it, tossing another kunai to start another wall – 'Do you really want this to be your brother's legacy?' – not really trusting his luck to only one of them.
Scar had burst through the first wall with a shower of dirt as Ed was vaulting the third wall – 'Majhul! Stop!' – and he quickly tossed down a kunai for a fourth wall – 'Mulahad!' (Al had given him the unfamiliar words, he might as well try them, right?)
Scar burst through the second wall, same as the first, and Ed was just tossing out a kunai for a fifth wall – 'Fucking STOP!' – when he sensed Scar...hesitate for a moment, before blowing apart the third wall. He stopped at the fourth wall, though, and called, "How do you know these words, alchemist dog?"
Ed jumped back down in front of the fifth wall, stumbled a few steps before he caught himself, then finished walking forward and clapped his hands together, pressing them against the sod of the fourth wall to change the message to 'There's an Ishvalan camp outside East City--my brother asked.'
When Scar didn't respond by blowing up the wall, Ed warily clambered to the top and peered down at him, found the man had removed his sunglasses and was glaring up at him with the blood-red eyes of his people. Ed clapped his hands together again and changed the message to, 'Can we talk? There are things you don't know about the genocide of your people.'
"Why should I listen to one of Amestris' dogs?" Scar demanded, though the very fact that he hadn't tried attacking again suggested he was willing to listen, at least some. His qi, likewise, had pulled back a bit, rage and hatred tempered by a sort of wariness that Ed fully reciprocated.
Ed sighed and again changed the message to, 'I know about your brother's journal. He was studying eastern alkahestry & western alchemy.'
Scar's eyes narrowed, definitely wary, now. "How do you know that?"
Ed shot him a tired look and changed his message again: 'I'm not coming down there until you promise you're not going to try killing me again.'
Scar took a step back and pressed his left hand against his chest. "I swear, on the spilt blood of my people, I will listen to you in peace."
That was good enough for Ed, and he mouthed, 'Oh, thank fuck,' as he hopped down from the wall and drooped back against it, exhausted. He gave himself a minute – relieved when Scar's qi remained more wary than angry, with a faint twinkling of curiosity – before clapping his hands together and changing the message to, 'I'm afraid I'll have to write everything down--bear with me.'
"You cannot speak," Scar said, his flat tone making it sound like more of a statement than a question.
Ed shrugged and nodded, pulling out his journal and giving in to his right leg's demands that he fucking sit already. He waved the journal at Scar, then opened it to the first blank page and started writing the pertinent details: he'd travelled in time, which was how he knew what he did; the Ishvalan Extermination was started purposefully as part of a far greater and bloodier campaign, which was coming to a head soon and would mean the end of them all if not stopped; Scar's brother's research could give the alchemists of Amestris a chance to fight back; and, whether Scar helped or not, Ed knew for certain of a handful of Amestrisan soldiers who were just waiting for the chance to help rebuild Ishval for his people, soldiers who just wanted the chance to repent for the crimes they were forced to commit.
Scar had come to sit across from him while Ed wrote, and Ed tore out all the pages he'd used and handed them over once he was done, then rested back against the sod wall behind him, closing his eyes and stretching out his senses, watching for any sign of 'reinforcements'.
He may well have fallen asleep, because it seemed like only seconds between closing his eyes and Scar saying, "What evidence do you have of this truth?"
Ed sighed and opened his eyes to write, '0 save knowledge I shouldn't have. I know your brother's journal is hidden in N but I don't know where--you'd already retrieved it by the time we caught up'
Scar stared at him for a long moment, after reading that, before looking down at the papers in his hands. "The only people who know my brother gave me his notes are dead," he said flatly, before crumpling the papers in a fist. "And I am the only person who knows where I hid them." He turned narrowed eyes up to Ed. "I believe you, dog."
Ed grimaced at that particular title and wrote, 'Edward'
Scar's expression didn't change. "Your Amestrisan names are useless to me."
Ed sighed. 'I had noticed that issue of yours. I was given the title Silent Alchemist which I much prefer over "dog"--I didn't accept this watch with any intention of coming to heel'
Something that felt suspiciously like amusement sparked through Scar's qi, though his expression didn't change as he flatly stated, "Clearly."
'Mental note,' Ed mouthed to himself, 'never play poker with Scar.' Then he wrote, 'Do you prefer "Scar"--the Amestrisans will call you that--or "Majhul"?'
Scar blinked. "I don't care. Call me what you want."
Ed rolled his eyes – some things never changed – and nodded. 'There's an abandoned house in some woods on E side of city where you can lay low if you need + can serve as meeting point. Most of slums outside city won't go out of way to report your presence + I know of Ishvalan camps in N--about 20 miles E of Ft Briggs-- + East City slums + group living in Xerxes ruins'
Scar considered that information before looking up at Ed with his poker-stare. "Why are you telling me this?"
'Because if homunculi/military find you right now you will be killed,' Ed wrote, shaking his head, '+ I know of wanting familiar when your world no longer is'
Scar ducked his head in acknowledgement. "Yes." He looked away, toward the trees hiding them from the edges of the city. "I thought my people gone."
'Scattered,' Ed wrote, for when Scar turned back around. 'Humanity is far more tenacious than homunculi believe. They underestimate us--there will always be survivors'
"Beware your arrogance, Silent Alchemist," Scar warned.
Ed was just about to write a response to that, when they both heard the dogs in the distance, coming from the city; reinforcements. Awesome.
They needed some way to call off the search or, better, for the dogs to lose Scar's scent. Ed's water alkahestry could serve the latter, but Scar would need to go now.
Ed clapped his hands and quickly changed the message on the wall, because that was quicker than writing, 'Give me your jacket & run. I can stop them.'
Scar frowned, but obediently shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it into Ed's lap as he got to his feet.
Ed nodded his thanks and pulled out a kunai to add some slices to the fabric, nicking his own palm to add blood along the edges and give truth to the lie. His own appearance – dirty and sweaty from the long run and jumping the growing dirt walls – would serve his story, but he added a few nicks to his bare hands and face, where a flung stone could have caught him.
And then he looked up, realising Scar was still standing there, watching his preparations, and glared. 'GO,' he mouthed, pointing away from the city.
Scar grunted, politely deconstructed the wall Ed had been sitting against, then the last one beyond it – erasing any signs that Ed had tried to get him to stop and talk; he'd have got them eventually – and started jogging for a copse of trees in the distance.
Ed turned back to the issue at hand: How was he supposed to convince the cavalry that he hadn't had any choice but to let Scar escape? Well, some broken weapons would help – those were easy to transmute and scatter around the place – and a couple of traps that looked like they'd been broken out of – also easy – and something Winry was going to fucking murder him for.
Ed took a deep breath and, wincing, used alchemy to blow out a couple of the connections in his leg, turning it into a dead weight.
As he dropped back to sit on the ground, left leg flopping uselessly out in front of him, Ed clapped again and pressed his hands into the grass, seeking ground water he knew would be there. It was the work of seconds to flood the entire field, following after Scar and hopefully erasing his trail, then let it all filter back underground, another array helping to evaporate any traces.
And then he tossed Scar's jacket in the general direction of the nearest 'prison' and settled back to scowl at his lot in life. (It didn't require much of an act; Winry really was going to have his head for breaking her precious invention.)
He didn't have much longer to wait before the dogs were racing into view around the trees. He knew a couple of them – working in Investigations meant they got visits from the military police about current court cases fairly regularly, and they sometimes brought their dogs, when they were on a patrol – and they came right up to him, clearly following his scent, rather than Scar's. He offered them a tired smile and ruffled some ears while he watched the other three dogs go over to Scar's jacket, sniff it all over, then give confused little whines and look in Ed's direction.
Oh. Awesome. He'd used his blood for the rips, which had probably confused the dogs, given they wouldn't have had much – if anything – to go on at the start. That was...a stroke of luck. Cool.
"Silent Alchemist!" someone shouted, followed by a familiar voice yelling, "Ed!"
Ed shoved a couple of the dogs away, then drew in a breath and let out a loud whistle.
"Over here!" someone called.
A pile of people in uniforms – military police and regular military – dodged through the stand of trees, guns out, but lowered. Hughes was one of them, and his shoulders slumped with relief when he spotted Ed in his circle of dogs. While the others started shouting varying orders – search for Scar, collect his jacket, what are those dogs doing, etc – Hughes hurried over to Ed.
:I broke my leg,: Ed admitted. :It was my best excuse for letting him escape.:
Hughes sighed and knelt in front of him. :I'll call your mechanic as soon as I can find a phone,: he promised. :Did you at least manage to talk to him?:
Ed nodded. :I don't know if he'll help, but he should stay out of the way.: He sighed. :I'm sure we've got a description now, sort of. Add to it that he's got tattoos on his right arm, but I'd rather avoid admitting he's Ishvalan and making them targets.:
Hughes nodded in understanding. :And his weapon?:
Ed looked over the mess he'd made, and the MPs and Investigation personnel looking through it. :No one would believe me if I said I didn't recognise it as alchemy.:
Hughes grimaced. "Good point," he muttered, before turning to look over his shoulder. "Major Armstrong!" he called.
Ed groaned and hid his face in his hands.
"Edward Elric!" Alex Armstrong exclaimed as he reached them, sounding like he was trying very hard not to cry. "It fills my heart with gladness to see you alive!"
Hughes let out a quiet chuckle, because he sucked, and said, "I'm afraid Ed's leg is broken and he could use a lift to hospital."
:Hate you,: Ed signed, just before Armstrong picked him up ever so gently.
"A broken leg?" Armstrong repeated, sounding honestly concerned.
Ed huffed and yanked at the leg of his trousers, pulling it up enough to show the metal underneath.
Hughes cleared his throat. "Automail, Major," he said quietly, because they'd – somehow – managed to keep the fact that Ed had a metal leg something of a secret from the military. The Hugheses knew, of course, and Mustang and Hawkeye, at the least, if not the rest of the bastard's team, but Ed had never made a habit of showing it off or bringing it up with people who didn't know, and physical exams weren't really required for State Alchemists, even ones who actually worked in a military office, doing official military work, so it wasn't even noted in his official file. Which seemed like a massive oversight on someone's part, but since Ed had made a habit of collecting what advantages he could – and having an automail-enhanced kick that very few people knew about definitely fit that bill – he wasn't about to point that out to anyone.
Armstrong's eyes widened very briefly before narrowing. "I will ensure he is seen to by a trusted doctor, Lieutenant Colonel," he promised, before carrying Ed away from the scene.
Ed blinked at that, before huffing and forcing himself to relax back in Armstrong's hold. There was very little he could do to make the man put him down, especially since he couldn't really walk without assistance right now.
When Armstrong brought him to a small clinic, rather than the military hospital, Ed couldn't even pretend to be surprised; Hughes had filled Armstrong in on both the military corruption and the plans in store for their country, so he knew the military wasn't to be trusted. Armstrong didn't really know Ed's part in all this – Hughes had decided that keeping Armstrong in the dark about Ed's actual maturity would help keep their cover, and they all knew the best-kept secret was one that remained unshared – but he knew Ed was firmly against the homunculi, and if they were keeping his automail a secret, there was probably a good reason.
(There wasn't, really, beyond it being a potential advantage and easy to keep a secret.)
Ed assumed the doctor was either employed by or owed the Armstrong family a favour, because he showed them in without questioning the visit, was quick and efficient about checking Ed over and bandaging his minor wounds, then showed them back out without any mention being made of payment.
Armstrong took him home to the Hugheses' afterwards, and Ed bore being fussed over by Gracia and worried over by Elicia and Nina with a tolerant smile, eventually falling asleep on the couch, with Elicia sitting next to him and watching to make sure he was still breathing, while Nina used her play doctor's set on Ed's automail leg. (He half expected to wake, finding she'd got into the real medical supplies and put plasters and such over the scar of the arrays carved into it.)
He woke to gentle fingers combing through his hair, and blinked blearily up at Gracia.
"Good evening, Ed," she offered quietly. "Maes and I just finished putting the girls to bed and wanted to know if you needed help getting upstairs."
Oh, right, fuck. Stairs. He did not want to deal with fucking stairs while his leg was a deadweight. :Can I stay on the couch?: he signed a bit hopefully.
Gracia smiled. "Of course. Did you want dinner? You slept right through it."
That...didn't actually surprise him, really; facing off against Scar had always taken a lot out of him, whether he was actually fighting him or trying to stay out of his range. He nodded and shifted to sit up, reaching out to shift his leg before it could catch against the cushions.
Hughes settled on to the arm of the couch while Gracia left to get Ed food, offering, "Passed on the information about the tattoo and that he seems to be using some sort of alchemical attacks, but said I didn't bother grilling you for specifics, since you were wounded. I put in for a couple days off for you – Armstrong's doctor friend was happy to offer his medical opinion that you needed a couple days to recover from trauma."
Ed snorted as he accepted the reheated food from Gracia. Trauma, please.
Hughes' mouth turned with a strained smile. "I know, but it'll keep the higher-ups off your back for a few days. I did call your mechanic and she said she'd be on tomorrow morning's train, so she should be here by dinner tomorrow."
:Was she angry?: Ed signed.
"She sounded more worried," Hughes offered, shrugging. "I didn't tell her you'd done it yourself, however."
Ed grimaced.
Hughes let him eat a few more bites before leaning forward and saying, "You saved Grand's life. It's going to be a while before he can fully use his left hand again, and both of his gauntlets need to be repaired, but he survived. By all witness reports, if you hadn't drawn Scar off right then, he would be dead."
Ed stared down at his food, torn between relief and regret; Grand was in Bradley's pocket, which made him one hell of a strong opponent to leave standing opposite them, but Ed actually liked Grand, after months of reporting to him about the labs, and, enemy or no, a life saved was still a life saved, and that was something to be proud of.
Wasn't that very mentality the thing that held them apart from the homunculi and the other fuckers willing to sacrifice the whole country for their own gain?
"By all accounts, the first thing he said when the MPs showed up on the scene, was that they needed to get after you, and my sources say he was visibly relieved to hear you were found alive."
Ed shook his head. :How the–: He grimaced, shaking his hands to stop himself from signing a curse; Elicia and Nina in bed or not, the fewer curses he signed in the house, the less likely he was to slip up around them (which was especially important, since they'd both started picking up some sign language, as often as they saw it). :I don't understand how he can work with the homunculi. He isn't the sort to sit down and sob over someone lost on the battlefield, but he's never struck me as the sort to write off a subordinate just to save himself, either. Not like those other slimeballs sitting with Bradley.:
Hughes rubbed at his beard. "You said the State Alchemist program was created to find those alchemists capable of surviving human transmutation, and they refer to you as 'sacrifices', and potentials as 'sacrifice candidates'. It's possible they're keeping him in the dark about the truth."
:But he's marked as being in charge of lab five,: Ed reminded him.
"After he died, you were told he was in charge of lab five," Hughes pointed out.
Ed paused, then turned to stare at Hughes as facts rearranged in his mind: Grand was killed before Scar showed up in East City, well before Ed had got the hints that led him to lab five and Bradley telling them Grand had been in charge of it. And, when Ed really thought about it, being in charge of the lab that created Philosopher's Stones and who knew what other horrors, didn't mean he was aware of the truth about the Dwarf in the Flask. After all, hadn't Marcoh been in charge of making the Stones? And he'd only guessed about the Nationwide Array later, and then fled.
Being a member of the brass didn't automatically mean being part of the corruption, even while stationed in Central; hadn't Grumman been a major general in Central before being thrown out to East City with a promotion as his consolation prize?
Ed...didn't know what to think. It was hard to get a read on Grand half the time, anyway, and Mustang taking a chance on a possible ally among the brass had ended up with his team being taken hostage, before, but Ed liked the brigadier general, and they could use all the help they could get.
But the risk.
:All these lies,: he signed tiredly, closing his eyes, :everyone hiding who they are, is what I hate the most about all this. I hate not knowing who to trust.:
Hughes was quiet for a long moment, before saying, "I'm hurt."
You're an IDIOT,: Ed shot back, opening his eyes to give him a flat look. :You and Führer Bastard and your teams, you're the only people in this stupid military I don't have to go around double-guessing. That's a really small group of allies.:
Hughes rubbed at his beard. "Hm. The Flame Alchemist and the Hawk's Eye," he mused. "Yes, I can see how they're not up to scruff."
Ed rolled his eyes. :You know what I mean.:
"I do," Hughes agreed, dropping his hand and slumping slightly as he looked over at Ed, his eyes just as old and worn as Ed felt. "Thinking in terms of numbers and what they can do for you, though. Isn't that how the homunculi view us?"
Ed blinked, and then he felt himself smiling, remembering what he'd told Scar about the tenaciousness of humanity, and the Ishvalan's response. :Scar told me to watch out that I didn't become too arrogant.:
"You? Never."
Ed shoved him with his right foot.
Hughes chuckled and pulled off his glasses to clean them, offering, "Don't think of it as being arrogant, then. Think of it as being human, and putting faith in the strength of your fellow humans."
Ed stared down at his hands, plaster-free because he'd healed all of his self-inflicted cuts before he'd fallen asleep. :That's harder than you think,: he signed after a long moment.
"Yes," Hughes agreed, his voice too tired, too old, "it is."
Ed sighed and returned to his meal.
And, when he finished and Hughes took it, he couldn't even pretend to be surprised by the hug he received. "Get some more sleep, Ed," Hughes murmured.
Ed offered him a smile that ached, but obediently laid back down to get what sleep he could; he was going to need to be well-rested to face down Winry.
Hughes must have skipped out of work to pick Winry up at the station, because the front door opened a good hour before he usually got home, and he called ahead, "I brought a guest!"
It was definitely Winry – Ed had recognised her qi before Hughes had opened the door – and Ed shot Nina and Elicia – both of whom were sitting in the living room with him – a reassuring smile, while Gracia called, "Welcome home. You must be Ed's friend, Winry, right?"
"Oh, uhm, yes. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"I'm Gracia. He's right through here, being guarded by our daughters."
Gracia led Winry through to the living room, and Ed offered her a smile and a wave. Her shoulders, held as tensely wound as her concerned qi, loosened with relief. "Idiot," she said. "You had me worried."
:Sorry.: Ed glanced at the two girls clustered around the coffee table, who were watching Winry with wide eyes. :This is Nina and Elicia.:
"Nina and Elicia?" Winry repeated, familiar with their sign-names, offering a smile for them. "Al's told me about you two."
"You know Big Brother Al?" Nina asked.
"Big Brofer Al," Elicia repeated, her whole face lighting up.
Winry laughed and nodded. "He and Ed and I grew up together. They're like brothers to me, too."
Nina's mouth formed a perfect 'o' of understanding, then she scrambled to her feet and stumbled over to tug on Ed's arm until he leant towards her. "Can she be our big sister?" she whispered.
Ed grinned and nodded, loving that she was willing to accept Winry into her ever-expanding family, but loving even more that she'd checked, first. Because Ed and the Hugheses smiling at a visitor didn't mean they trusted them alone with Elicia and Nina. Nina, at least, seemed to have got that concept when Hughes and Gracia had tried explaining it to them shortly after Ed officially moved in, and Elicia seemed content to follow Nina's lead.
Nina took that as permission to walk over to Winry, who crouched down as she approached. "Hello," Winry said. "I'm Winry."
Nina nodded like she already knew that, though Ed was fairly certain she hadn't connected the name Gracia had used in the hall to her face until then, and asked, "Big sister?"
Winry blinked a few times. "Oh," she said, before smiling. "I can be, if you want."
Nina gave a very determined nod and stepped forward to hug Winry, which she willingly returned.
And that seemed to be Elicia's cue to come over and introduce herself, grinning wide and bright.
Gracia eventually managed to lead both of the younger girls from the living room with promises of a snack – suggesting they might like to greet Hughes had resulted in no interest, which had made Ed laugh and Hughes, himself, make pathetic noises in the hallway – which left Winry and Ed alone.
"You don't look hurt," Winry said after a silent moment, collecting her toolkit and bringing it over to drop heavily on the coffee table, which she then pushed back so she had room to kneel next to Ed.
Ed shook his head and grimaced as he had to fight with the blanket to get it out of the way so she could work; Gracia had brought down a pair of shorts for him to change into that morning, after he'd asked, so he didn't have to fuss about undressing once Winry arrived. :Minor scratches. I would have been fine, but I needed a reason for letting Scar escape.:
Winry narrowed her eyes, her qi taking on a decidedly violent vibe. "You broke your leg on purpose?" she hissed.
Ed nodded.
At close range and with one leg a deadweight, he couldn't have dodged the spanner she whacked him with if he'd tried.
Ed clutched the forming bump on his head and whimpered while she switched out the spanner for a screwdriver so she could take off the cover of his leg. "Stop being pathetic," she ordered.
:Next time,: Ed signed crossly, :I'm going to let HIM destroy it.:
"I will hit you again," Winry warned.
Ed returned his hands to their far more important duty of cradling his aching head.
They were both quiet as she finished getting the casing off, then she let out a quiet, surprised noise. "Oh. This isn't anywhere near as bad as I was thinking. You just shorted out a couple of connections." Ed nodded and she shot him a glare. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
Ed shook his head; by the time he'd learnt enough about automail to know exactly how he could damage it so it would be a quick fix, he'd already lost his alchemy, and he knew better than to try using anything he couldn't actually control. (On himself, at least; he'd used what he knew to put a quick halt to someone who'd tried taking him on with two automail arms, before.) :I haven't, but I did go looking for the information, just in case.:
She let out a disgusted noise and turned back to her toolkit. "Idiot. Don't go looking for ways to break my hard work."
:You're my favourite automail mechanic?: Ed offered when she looked over at him again.
She huffed and knelt up slightly so she could start disconnecting the ruined connections. "At least you didn't try fixing it on your own."
Oh, no, Ed knew better than that. He could have, sure, but if Winry found out, he'd get a lot worse than a single spanner to the head.
It didn't take long for Winry to switch out the connections and replace the casing. "How is it?" she asked as Ed carefully swung his legs around and stood.
He tried a couple careful stretches, then signed, :Perfect, unsurprisingly. Thanks.:
She flushed and ducked her head over her toolkit, shifting things around. "Idiot. You owe me a tour of Central, since you dragged me up here."
Ed snorted and crouched down so she'd see him sign, :Sure. I've got tomorrow off to recover from trauma, anyway.:
Winry let out a disbelieving snort. "Trauma? You?"
Ed grinned. :Hughes' fault. It's not really military knowledge that I've got automail, so he used that to excuse me not coming in for a couple days while we waited for you.:
Winry rolled her eyes and slammed shut the cover of her toolkit. "You know, normal people are proud to show off their automail."
:You've been spending way too much time in Rush Valley,: Ed informed her. :There is nothing normal about those–:
Winry swatted at his hands. "Oh, please. Like there aren't people in the military who like to show off their automail."
:I'm going to walk you through my department and you tell me how much automail you see.:
"You work in Investigations. They barely count."
:I'll take you through the labs.:
Winry snorted. "Don't even lie, first off, there is no way I'd be allowed in the alchemy labs. Second, alchemy freaks don't count either."
:You realise your definition of "normal" is shrinking.:
"Shut up," Winry ordered as she stood. Almost before Ed could finish getting to his own feet, she hefted her toolkit and shoved it at him, and taking it was automatic. "Is there somewhere I can stay here, or are you going to make me charge you for a hotel room, too?"
Ed rolled his eyes and motioned with his head for her to follow him, before leading the way up to his room. Once he'd set the toolkit down, he signed, :You can have my bed while you're here; I'm fine taking the couch.:
Winry frowned, tightening her fingers around the strap of her overnight bag. "I don't want to put you out."
Ed shook his head. :I would rather you not get a hotel by yourself in Central.:
Winry's mouth tightened and she stepped rapidly past him to toss her bag on his bed. Then she spun and pointed a finger at him. "Overprotective idiot! Fine! But don't blame me when you end up with an achy back tomorrow!"
Ed rolled his eyes. :Thank you.: His eyes caught on his stack of correspondence with Al, then he asked. :Can you call Al and pass on a message for me?:
She blinked, confused for a moment, then realisation bloomed. "About Scar? Is he going to help?"
:He's not going to hinder,: Ed offered. :Reinforcements arrived before I could press him for any answers. I'll get them eventually, but, for now, I just want to tell Al I've spoken to him and we've agreed to a ceasefire.:
Winry huffed. "You're using their hand signs, I hope you realise."
Ed frowned. :Whose?:
"The military's." Because Al had taught her those sometime between when Ed taught them to him, and them coming back from East City with the sign language books.
Ed rolled his eyes. :Phone's downstairs,: he signed, before turning and leading the way back down. :He might still be at East Command,: he offered once she joined him by the phone, and she nodded in understanding, so he quickly dialled the familiar number, then held out the handset.
"Hello, yes, my name is Winry Rockbell. I'm calling for Alphonse Elric, if he hasn't left yet. Oh, uhm, Colonel Mustang's office?" She shot him a questioning look and Ed nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'll hold, thank you." She shifted her hold on the handset so it was balanced between her ear and shoulder, and signed, :You couldn't have asked Mr Hughes to do this?:
:You're not really complaining about the chance to talk to Al.:
:I talk to Al every other week, because he knows how to pick up a phone.:
Ed rolled his eyes. :Please take a moment to imagine me ringing you.:
Winry choked out a laugh, her cheeks pinking. "Oh," she squeaked, before hurriedly clearing her throat. "Your brother."
Ed blinked at that, confused for a moment, before he realised Al must have picked up.
"Yeah, he made me come up to see him, because he's an idiot who taunts murderers, apparently," Winry said, delivering the lie disturbingly easily.
(What had Ed's knowledge of the coming danger done to them, that the people of his childhood could so easily lie to pass messages over a phone line that they all knew might be tapped? Would they have been better if Ed had left them innocent?
(No. He knew the answer to that. Better they suffer with knowledge, than suffer in ignorance.)
"Well, he doesn't look injured, so I guess he got lucky. Or everyone's blowing this guy completely out of proportion and he's really not that dangerous."
Al laughed loud enough that Ed could hear him.
Winry made a face, then rolled her eyes and said, "Al wants to know if there was an arrest."
Ed shook his head. :He escaped, and the dogs lost the scent.:
Winry relayed that, then listened for a moment before snorting. "He's taking me out to show me the city tomorrow. Apparently, he's been given a few days off because of trauma."
Al laughed ridiculously loudly again, and Ed rolled his eyes. :You two are going to be laughing about that for MONTHS, aren't you?:
"Try years," Winry returned, before telling Al, "Laughing about his trauma." She flashed Ed a smile and promised, "Decades."
:I hate you both.:
Winry snorted, then said to Al, "No, that was all. Ed just wanted me to pass on that he wasn't dead." Her expression gentled. "Yeah, I'll pass that on. Yeah. I'll talk to you later, Al. Take care."
Once she'd hung up the phone, and before she could open her mouth, Ed guessed, :I'm an idiot and he loves me?:
She blinked once, then let out a quiet laugh. "Yes."
Ed smiled. :Dinner?: he asked, because he could smell something cooking.
"Not train food? Yes, please."
Ed laughed and led the way into the dining room.
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