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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: This chapter is pretty much one massive heart-break.
I'm sorry.
Chapter Fifteen
-0-
Bastard,
No, I can't take Hughes. I can sense when danger's coming, which is fine for getting myself out of the way, but since I can't whisper any warnings, a second person is more likely to be a hindrance than any form of help.
Like I said, stop freaking out, I know what I'm doing.
So far, I haven't sensed any additional guarding attempts.
E. Elric
EDIT: Never mind. They're still trying to stalk me on Fridays. I took Envy on a lovely tour of the city just for the sheer amusement of it.
Ed didn't bother trying to go back to the slums, since it was clear he was less than welcome, and he didn't really want to push anyone, for the sake of Zouheir and the potential incoming Ishvalans, mostly. If Zouheir needed him, he knew where to reach him, so it wasn't like Ed had gone and abandoned the man. (Not that he'd promised anyone specific that he'd keep Zouheir safe or whatever, that was all for his own peace of mind.)
He got through the whole weekend and Monday without a sign of any additional guards, save for Friday. (Clearly, for once, setting a schedule for misbehaviour meant they only expected him to act out on a specific day. Ed and Hughes were kind of both laughing their arses off.) With that in mind, he headed out for lab one on Tuesday, timing his arrival so he'd have just about enough time to run through his usual inspection before lunch – no one asked, but he had a ready excuse about a translation that had held him up, if they wondered why he was later than usual – and then used the cover of everyone leaving to slip into the only lab room that was off limits.
As he'd expected, there was a stairway leading down, which had a padlocked gate in the way; no problem. He'd filched a lock picking kit from Investigations pretty much as soon as he realised they had them – he'd had to learn how to use them after he lost his alchemy, and a few practice runs ensured he hadn't lost his touch – because there were times it was better not to go pointing fingers at alchemists, and this was one of them. (Also, no one, not even Al, knew about this skill of his – why would he need it? He was brilliant, headstrong, and happy to show off his alchemic skills – which made him the last possible culprit.)
Once he was in, he pulled out the graph paper he'd folded up and hidden in his journal, stretched it out over the clipboard he'd picked up earlier and 'forgotten' to put back, then started down the hall, counting his steps between objects of interest and sketching his map by feel more than sight, given the pervasive darkness from the lack of ready light source. The crawling sensation from the Stones underground was a lot stronger down there, becoming obviously noticeable again, despite the resistance Ed had been building up over the months he'd been staying in Central. He grimaced and headed toward the sensation, somewhat morbidly curious, and found one of those massive doors – he suspected they could be opened by alchemy, but hadn't had the chance to test, before, and wasn't really interested in mucking about with it right that moment – then walked back the other way, through some abandoned labs with broken equipment, until he reached something of a T-intersection; the outer circle of the city's array, he suspected. He did a quick consideration of direction, then started in the direction that most likely led to lab two.
He knew he'd picked right when he sensed the calming balm off the greenhouse. Blooming had admitted, at one point, that they'd had to make some minor repairs to the floor around some of the older trees, because their roots had broken through the concrete to the soil beneath them. Ed hadn't told him, but he'd suspected, that the trees had actually broken through to the parts of the lab that had been closed off, if not the tunnel circling the city. And indeed, when he climbed the stairs to what should have been the access point to lab two, he found it overgrown with roots.
Lab two was completely impassable, note made.
He noted down the position of the large door for that lab, then returned to the outer circle.
Lab three's entrance was probably the most poorly hidden of the lot, which Ed had known coming into this, as he saw it regularly during his inspections. It was padlocked, same as lab one's had been, to keep the curious from proceeding downwards, and queries about it had been met with uncaring shrugs, wild guesses, or vague warnings about the area being condemned, depending on whom he asked.
Uninterested in spending more time than necessary near the chimera labs, and leery of being spotted from the other side of the gate, Ed made quick work of mapping the path to the large door, made some educated guesses about the entrance from the lab, then returned to the outer circle.
Lab four's entrance was in another unused lab, down a hall in the 'hazardous chemicals' section, which Ed had only ever been allowed into with Grand; all of his personal inspections had involved the three researchers assigned to that section coming out to meet him and give their report in Maximus' lab. They cited his safety as the reason, and Ed tried not to make a bigger deal than would be expected of a teenage boy who considered himself a genius; he was only fourteen, to them, and they hardly expected him to know what not to touch.
At any rate, it had only taken one glance for him to guess where that hallway led, and since he had the opportunity for some careful snooping, he verified it. He also added some additional protections in the areas that the three researchers weren't, to make himself feel better. The main storage cupboard was the most important, and he managed that, but he figured it couldn't hurt to up the protections in the unoccupied labs, too, since he finally had unaccompanied access to them.
Having done his good deed for the month, Ed went back down into the underground tunnel and marked that large door, then continued around the circle.
Lab five was worryingly busy, but Ed didn't try sneaking up to check it out, since he sensed a homunculus up there. Instead, he marked what he dared, then continued back to lab one. He relocked the padlock, slipped his map away, left the clipboard on an empty desk – no one was likely to coming looking for it in here, and misplaced materials were often just marked as having got caught up in a transmutation, in lab one; Ed had seen plenty of replacement requests with that reason given – and made his way out of the building.
It had got late while he was underground, and by the time he made it home, dinner was just being set out.
Hughes waited until Nina and Elicia were in bed before cornering Ed, at least: "Whose noses were you tweaking today, then?"
Ed sighed and motioned for him – and Gracia, who wasn't overt about listening in, but had made it clear that she wasn't going to be left in the dark, not with something this big, not when any one of them knowing about it put all of them in danger – to follow him to the little windowless office with the maps. There, he signed, :I was mapping the tunnel system,: before pulling out his map and starting to, very carefully, mark the curve on the map of Central City, with liberal use of plain pins and string that he changed the colour of.
Hughes stepped up to help him after a moment, taking part of Ed's map, though it wasn't really necessary once you saw how one of the labs was connected to the tunnel, since they were all pretty much the same, save for some minor differences that didn't matter for this map.
Once they finished, they stepped back to get a look, and Hughes whistled. "Damn. Who knew this was hidden under the city."
Ed grimaced at that – they all knew exactly whom – and focussed on the large doors, all of which seemed to be directly under the moat that circled Command; he'd known where the Dwarf in the Flask was headquartered, certainly, but this painted a far more definitive picture.
"Why map it?" Gracia asked, picking up one of the pieces of graph paper and looking over how painstakingly detailed Ed had been.
:Scar's array needs to be activated at the centre of the nationwide array,: Ed explained when she looked back up at him. :That's the middle of the parade grounds, or somewhere underground. He'll be shot before he can activate it at the parade grounds, so it'll have to be underground.:
"And that means someone needs to map the way," Hughes murmured, looking up at the map. "I know no one's going to question you vanishing into one of the labs for a while, which doesn't hold true for most of us who know, but can't you at least take someone with you? Alex?"
Ed shook his head. :I just had this argument with Führer Bastard,: he complained, and both Hughes and Gracia let out strained chuckles. :I know Al and I have never really explained our ability to sense the homunculi, but it's related to that. I'll know if someone's coming, and I'm agile enough to find somewhere to hide before they're in view. But the minute you add someone else to that equation...:
"You would have to find some way to warn them and both find places to hide," Hughes finished with a sigh. "I just don't like the idea of you going down there alone. Which isn't a comment on your combat abilities!" he added, as though expecting Ed to call him out. "I've heard enough about your swift takedowns when someone irritates you, and I know you're in the gym regularly, but everyone needs backup sometimes."
:If Al were here, I would take him, but he's not.: Ed shook his head. :This isn't my first time being stuck in hostile territory alone, and I'm far better prepared, now, than I ever have been before.:
"And they don't want you dead," Gracia pointed out quietly.
"That doesn't really make it better," Hughes commented with a grimace.
:If I'm caught,: Ed signed grimly, :you lot become targets. Trust me, I prefer it when they're aiming to kill me.:
Gracia swallowed and ducked her head. "That sounds a little terrible."
Ed turned away, back towards the map. He'd have to either go in through lab three, antsy as all fuck, or wait a week and go back through lab one to get through those large doors.
Well, he had thought it might be a good idea to see how difficult it would be to get past the chimeras Scar had mentioned were down that sewer passage, before. Having multiple approaches to pick from were better, especially since getting Scar into one of the labs without bringing all the homunculi down on their heads was going to be a trick. (On the other hand, sending him through lab three and telling him he could kill any chimeras, free them from their misery, might be cathartic.)
"Ed?" Hughes called, and he glanced back at the man. "Is there more you need to map?"
Ed sighed and nodded. :The tunnels under Command are the really confusing place, but I'll wait until next week, since lab one has the easiest entrance. There's another entrance that I know of that I'll look into tomorrow, probably. I don't expect much though; it's guarded by chimeras.:
"Be careful they don't warn anyone about your presence," Hughes warned.
Ed nodded again. :I know. I don't intend to get close enough for them to smell me. Or, if I do, I'm getting out before they can pass on a warning.:
"Okay. Let me know when you decide to go? Both times."
Ed frowned at him.
"If someone comes looking for you, I can cover for you," Hughes pointed out.
"And if you don't come home," Gracia added quietly, her expression shadowed with concern, "we'll know you might be in trouble."
Ed huffed and shook his head. :Don't start sending people in after me.:
Hughes smiled the sort of smile that promised he was going to do the exact opposite of what Ed had just said. "I'll keep your warnings in mind."
Ed threw up his hands in a sign of surrender. :I am going to bed,: he decided, before collecting his scattered maps and leaving the pair of them with the new markings on the Central City map.
Edward,
If you end up dead in a ditch somewhere, I'll assume it's because you danced Envy into a murderous rage, as opposed to having something to do with your mysterious "detour".
Consider that my "freaking out" is less to do with distrusting your abilities (which, as a reminder, I don't know much about, other than that you can track the homunculi and their maker), and more a simple fact that I care about what happens to you.
Roy Mustang
Ed had spent what felt like hours staring at that last line, alternating between a hope he refused to acknowledge, a weird ache in his chest that had no real cause, and a simmering fury.
He shoved the letter in his desk and, by the time he woke up in the morning, his fury had solidified, leaving everything else to curl up in a box with whatever other emotions he might or might not feel towards Roy fucking Mustang. Mr All-I-Know-About-You-Is-My-Own-Idealised-Bullshit-But-I-CARE. Mr I've-Listened-To-Your-Brother's-'He-Only-Insults-People-He-Likes'-Bullshit-One-Too-Many-Times.
If Mustang knew anything real about Ed, he wouldn't be sticking around. He was a fucking wreck who made a mess of everything he touched. Al was stuck with him because of that unfortunate blood relation, and the Hugheses had to put up with him because Ed had been stuck under Hughes' command, but Mustang didn't have shit for throwing around lines like 'I care about you'. What the actual fuck?
He was sour about it for the rest of the week, and if Hughes thought that was actually because he'd deemed the sewer line too much of a risk to map, well, good. The man seriously needed to stay out of his...whatever the fuck this was with Mustang. (Nothing. There was nothing with Mustang.)
The next week was better, with Ed starting it off with a relatively good run through the underground tunnel system. He managed to find his way from lab one to the centre – following the strengthening of the crawling sensation was disturbingly good for that, as it turned out – and from the centre to lab three, with only some minor detouring, which gave them the two best routes. He was still kind of interested in filling in the rest of the map – just in case – but if something went wrong, at least he had a path, now.
"This is like pulling teeth," Hughes said, leaning against the doorframe of Ed's room.
Ed shot him a confused look; what was? Matching his underground map up with the detailed Command blueprints he'd found and stolen from the intel library? It was kind of a pain in the arse – his maps didn't really show where he'd switched floors, since it wasn't always obvious while he was down there, so some of the paths overlapped weirdly – but it was hardly 'pulling teeth'.
"When are you going to write Roy back?"
Oh. This shit.
Ed sighed and set his work down. :I am not going to keep a letter exchange going just to sate your weird voyeuristic need to see us dating. Or whatever your brain is doing in there.:
Hughes considered him, gaze way too fucking intelligent. "He said something that upset you," he decided, and Ed couldn't stop a scowl. "It's probably stupid and you know it, and you're punishing him by not writing him back."
It wasn't stupid, but Ed was absolutely punishing the bastard by not writing him back.
He wanted to be back in Xing. Xing was easy. (Okay, Xing had not been easy, but at least things were pretty straightforward there: You hunted, you farmed, you listened to stupid poetry and practised whatever alkahestry made you happy. And if someone attacked your clan, you beat them over the head until they cried 'Uncle'. Or whatever the Xingan equivalent was. No one tried to force Ed into any relationships that were clearly not going to work out.)
"Bookshop," Hughes said.
Ed couldn't quite help an irritated noise. :That's not going to keep working forever,: he pointed out.
"I have two little girls held in reserve for when the bribes stop working," Hughes promised.
:Fine. I'll write Führer Bastard. But it's under protest.:
"Noted." Hughes smiled at him, then left.
Ed huffed to himself a bit and pulled out some paper for a quick note, then went back to his maps.
Bastard,
I'm only writing this because I'm being bribed with books. Or threatened with children. Pick.
E. Elric
"Major Elric?" Captain Fokker said from the doorway of the translator's office.
Ed glanced up toward him, took in his worried expression, and jumped to his feet.
"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is asking for you."
AL, was Ed's first thought, because he hadn't received a letter from his brother since he'd left for Liore over a week ago. Which he'd expected, but it still made him antsy.
He followed Fokker back towards Hughes' office, realised he'd forgotten his jacket part way there, and decided he didn't care; everyone in Investigations, and most of the regular MP visitors, already knew his interpretation of the uniform was, at best, very loose.
Hughes was on the phone when Ed stepped in, his expression tight. :Al?: Ed signed before Hughes could open his mouth.
A sort of pained amusement flashed across Hughes' face. "Are you telepathic?"
:What happened?: Ed asked in lieu of an answer.
"Ed," Hughes said, clearly into the phone, before pushing the handset a bit away from his mouth to explain to Ed. "He was on his way back to East City from another detour–"
Ed was going to kill his brother.
"–but it turns out the train he's on has been hijacked."
Train hijacking right after visiting Liore? Ed blinked. 'Oh.' He remembered that event. One of the members of the brass who quietly retired after the Promised Day had been involved. Hacker or Hawker or something that started with 'ha'. :He'll be fine,: he signed to Hughes, before leaving to go sit in the loo and try not to hyperventilate.
They'd been fine, before. Al was smart, and far less inclined towards the 'punch first, ask questions later' way of life than Ed would ever be. And he wasn't alone, he had Havoc with him. He'd be fine.
Ed had to believe that.
"He's fine," Hughes said when Ed walked into his office at the end of the day.
Ed snorted, as if he hadn't been trying not to panic for the past three hours, and signed, :I told you so.:
Which seemed to be the end of it.
Edward,
Was it something I wrote?
I'm sorry about the train mess. I'm sure you were more worried than you were letting on.
Roy Mustang
Al and Mustang's letters arrived on the same day. Al reported that, no, the Philosopher's Stone destroying array didn't work with the Dragon's Pulse, but it did with the tectonic movements. He hypothesised its ability to destroy may well come from the fact that passing the energy through or around the Stones underground was the key, as though there was some secret only another Stone could know. Ed was certainly welcome to try rebuilding the array to work with the Dragon's Pulse – they both knew he was the better at that – but at least they knew it worked, and they'd have to depend on Scar's brother's array to use it against the Dwarf in the Flask, unless they surprised him with it.
As for Al's 'detour'... He'd just wanted to swing back past Youswell and make sure everyone was okay, which Ed sort of understood, and Havoc had okayed. He'd got some flak for joining the military, but since he'd already proven himself good folk previously, he wasn't thrown out on his rear end. Too, Mustang had, upon returning to East City with Al after they'd first become State Alchemists, passed on their little adventure to Grumman, who had put out a warrant for Yoki's arrest, and sent a slightly belated contact out to Youswell to write up a new trade agreement with Halling, so the miners got fair pay for their work, and the military still had access to their coal, despite the bad history.
Ed'd written his brother back, demanding details about the train incident – the postmark showed he'd sent the letter from New Optain, before the hijacking – even though Ed half expected there was already another letter on its way from East City with those details, but putting a demand in writing made him feel better, and he knew Al would read it for what it really was: 'I was terrified, but I'm trying to pretend I wasn't'.
He agreed to try and reshape the array to work with the Dragon's Pulse, but he would need Marcoh's notes – if they were in First Branch, that was easier and Al could just ring Hughes to pass that on, so Ed could get them sooner – to do so, and he wouldn't be able to test the completed array, very likely, until they started the fight. He also pointed out that Scar's brother's array bypassed the Stones underground, so if the array needed access to some Philosopher's Stone-only knowledge, it would become useless as soon as that array was active. Hohenheim should still be able to use it, however, so it wasn't a complete waste of an array if they didn't manage to surprise anyone with it.
Only after his letter to Al was ready to post, did Ed open Mustang's letter, and, even then, it was probably only morbid curiosity that kept him from binning it, unopened. (Seriously. Morbid. Curiosity. That was it. Nothing else at work.)
He tossed it into his desk after he read it, scoffed because it didn't take a genius to realise that Ed had been putting on an act. Hughes had just been too kind to call him on it, unlike some bastards. Ed didn't like people trying to comfort him, or whatever the fuck that junk was. He didn't need or want Mustang's platitudes.
(Ed liked to pretend he could lie to himself.)
Ed was just getting up from his desk to head out for labs three and two on Thursday, when one of the main entrance guards knocked on the doorframe. "Major Elric? Got a kid downstairs for you. Says a Zoo-hair sent him?"
Ed frowned and grabbed his jacket before heading to follow the guard back downstairs. Zouheir? It had been well over a month since the last time they'd spoken, with Ed keeping away from the slums to keep from freaking out the man's neighbours. If he was sending someone now, it didn't bode well.
There was, indeed, a child standing in front of the security desk. He was probably eight or nine, dressed in the well-loved, oft-patched clothing of the slums, and covered in what looked to be soot. Ed didn't recognise him, but, by the way his shoulders slumped in relief as soon as he saw Ed, he recognised him. (That, or he had an excellent description, which wasn't hard, considering Ed's rare colouring and altered uniform.)
"Mr Silent Alchemist!" the kid called, ducking around a guard who moved too slow to catch him and careening into Ed, gripping tight to the bottom of his uniform jacket. And then he began to cry.
"I didn't do anything," the slow guard insisted, looking panicked.
Ed shook his head at him, had enough experience with kids to recognise sobs that were more of the 'relieved to find someone else to handle this' sort than the 'he was a mean jerk to me' sort. He did mime blowing his nose and pointed toward a box of tissues behind the desk, however, then herded the kid towards one of the visitor chairs and sat him on it while one of the guards collected the tissues.
Ed gently cleaned off the kid's face, finally placing him when most of the soot was cleaned away: It was the kid who had tried alchemy, who Ed had created a new cooking pot for his mum for.
Finally calming down a bit, the kid managed to get out, "There's a f-fire. Mr Zou-heir said t-to ge-et you.
"A fire?" the guard who had come to get Ed repeated. "No insult to you, Major, but that's a job for the fire brigade, not a State Alchemist."
"M-Mr Zouheir s-said," the kid insisted, before looking desperately towards Ed.
Ed offered him a small smile and nodded, then got up and walked over to the security desk to grab the pad of paper and pen he knew would be there. 'He's from south slum where I've Ishvalan friend. I'm heading out there--please take him to Lt Col Hughes to see if he knows anything more'
The guard's expression tightened as he read that, and he looked back up at Ed with a grim frown. "You think it's racially motivated?" he whispered.
'I intend to find out,' Ed wrote in reply, before leaving the paper and pen and walking back to the kid, who was watching them with a sort of hopeless air. He motioned between himself and the door.
The kid's eyes lit up. "You'll go?" he pleaded.
Ed nodded, then motioned to the kid, to the guard, and then up into the building.
"The Silent Alchemist asked me to take you up to see his commander," the guard explained, voice pitched like he was speaking to a frightened animal. (He probably wasn't far off; a fire in his home, followed by navigating the city to find a soldier? The kid had to be terrified; Ed was honestly impressed he hadn't done more than sob a bit.) "He'll have some questions for you, see if we need to send anyone else down after Silent, help him out any."
The kid looked towards Ed with an uncertain stare, and he put on his best reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. That seemed to help, because the kid nodded and said, "Okay. But you're going to help, right? That's why Mr Zouheir sent me to get you. He said you'll help."
Ed gave a bow, which seemed to be enough of an answer, because the kid took the hand the guard was patiently holding out towards him and hopped off the chair.
"I've got him, sir," the guard promised Ed. "Watch yourself down there."
Ed flashed him a sharp smile, then hurried from the building, breaking into a run as soon as he cleared the doors.
Bonus of the uniform: When people saw a soldier running in their direction, they moved the fuck out of the way, whether they were carrying a weapon in their hands or not.
The fire brigade looked to have been there for about eight minutes when Ed arrived, breathing hard from the extended run, and pushed his way through the crowd of gawkers. One of the firemen running crowd control reached out a hand toward him when Ed ducked the barriers set up, but he pulled back when he recognised the uniform. "Just a little fire, sir," he said with a reassuring smile. "Not gonna reach the city, so no worries."
Yes, because the only thing he could possibly be worried about, would be whether or not the fire would damage Central City at all.
Ed reached awkwardly under his jacket for his journal, then wrote, 'Residents?' in large letters and held it up for the man to see.
The fireman blinked a few times, clearly thrown. "The, ah. Uhm, o-over there, Major," he replied at last, pointing toward a huddle of undamaged tents that were bustling with activity.
Ed nodded in thanks, then started over that way, waving off another fireman who tried to call out to him and slipping his journal back away.
Everyone in or around the active tents were residents of the slums, and all of them were covered in at least some soot. Cots and blanket piles had been set up inside the two largest tents, as well as on the ground outside, and all of them were filled with people with burns, while other residents dashed between them with cool compresses drawn from a hand pump just at the edge of the clearing.
It wasn't unlike a hospital waiting room right after a major catastrophe, except these people didn't rank doctors or nurses, and they knew it.
Ed clenched his hands into fists and stepped forward, fully willing to just start healing, when he was stopped by a tired-eyed woman with streaks of dark skin showing through the layer of soot on her face, as though she'd brushed some off while trying to get singed hair out of her face. "You the Silent Alchemist, then?"
Ed nodded, jaw clenched tight.
She nodded back. "Zouheir's this way."
She led him to where the Ishvalan – almost impossible to differentiate from his neighbours, for once, with his white hair hidden under the same layer of soot as everyone else – was gently spreading salve over a burn on the arm of a young man who looked to be doing his damnedest to keep from making a sound. Zouheir didn't look wounded, but the soot could hide a lot, Ed knew.
He looked up when Ed's guide called his name, gaze drawn almost immediately towards Ed, and slumping in what might well have been relief; it was hard to read his qi under the wave of everyone else around them, heavy with hopelessness and grief, laced through with pain. "Ed," he said. "Thank Ishvala. I've been assured that no doctors will come, but I had hoped you might be able to get a few."
Ed stepped closer, his jaw clenched too tight for him to get words out, if he even could have. He forced his hands to unclench and roughly signed, :I left the kid with my commanding officer; he'll do what he can, but until then, I know healing alchemy.:
(Let me help. Give me something to do, because I can't sit here, useless.)
Zouheir's eyes widened. "Healing alchemy?" he breathed, and someone drew in a sharp breath. "Such exists?"
Ed forced a smile and nodded. :In the east, and in Creta,: he explained.
Zouheir stared at him for another moment, before shaking himself. "My people won't let you use it on them, but there are Amestrisans we had worried we might lose."
:Show me.:
Zouheir rushed to his feet and stumbled, one hand going up to touch his head as his eyes squeezed shut in pain.
Ed caught his elbows as gently as he could, but firm enough to help him balance. His hands itched to clap, see if he couldn't find what was wrong and fix it – he didn't like watching anyone in pain, let alone someone he genuinely liked – but he knew it wouldn't be welcome.
For the first time in a long time, he honestly hated that the Ishvalans refused to give alchemy a chance.
"I'm fine," Zouheir promised, slipping from Ed's hold, could likely read how much he wanted to use alchemy on him from his expression. "I was well away from the fires when they started, but we all inhaled smoke."
Ed pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded; there wasn't a lot he could do about smoke inhalation, since he'd never studied the lungs, beyond a cursory 'they're here, they look like that', when he'd gone through a phase of wanting to know which of his organs had been damaged when he'd been impaled.
"This way," Zouheir said, leading him away from the man he'd been putting salve on, whose red eyes said he wouldn't be accepting any of Ed's help. The woman who had led Ed over knelt next to the cot and picked the salve back up, clearly intent on finishing what Zouheir had left.
The worst off were a group of six adults, men and women, all of whom had what looked, to Ed's – admittedly – inexperienced eyes, to be really fucking bad burns, skin blistered and clearly painful. Two of them were thrashing, attendants kneeling next to them and trying desperately to calm them, dripping water from wet cloths over the burns. The other four were deathly still, and in the silence of their qi, Ed could pinpoint which ones were the closest to death.
"They were the ones who kept running back into the fire to save others," Zouheir said quietly, respectfully. He pointed to one of the women and added, "She is Ishvalan, but the others are Amestrisan."
Ed gritted his teeth and nodded, then walked over to the man who was the closest to death and knelt next to him. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to find a calm centre – rage did not help control the Dragon's Pulse, and he would need control for this; damn the danger of being watched, he could not leave these people to suffer to keep a fucking secret – then pressed his hands together and laid them gently on the nearest unburnt patch of skin, closing his eyes.
The burns, to his alchemy, felt like bright, burning patches, not entirely unlike the steady gleam of a cut. In response, the Dragon's Pulse turned pale and cool as it rolled through him, and he directed it out through his fingertips, towards those burning patches, watched it soothe the heat and settle in against the skin. As the burning died away and the energy became more...room temperature, almost (since this was dealing in temperatures, why not), it morphed into energy to regrow skin, to stretch like scars over the damaged spaces.
Ed pulled away as he reached the limits of what he could do – far more than he was used to; perhaps he'd learnt more from Honghui than he'd realised, or perhaps it was simply being, for once, the only one able to help – and blinked open his eyes to find the man, who had been so badly burnt only a moment ago and standing at the edge of the Gate, breathing a little roughly from smoke inhalation, but with surprisingly limited scarring where the burns had been.
Zouheir said something in his language, quiet and almost reverent, and Ed huffed and pushed himself to his feet, pleased to find that had barely touched his own energy stores; this was one of the pros of using the Dragon's Pulse, as opposed to the tectonic movements, for healing. He walked over to the next worst-off person, another man, and set about healing him just the same.
Only once all the Amestrisans had been healed, did Ed turn to Zouheir. :She's going to die within thirty minutes if I don't help her,: he signed with his best flat stare.
Zouheir shook his head, looking pained, his arms crossed tight over his chest. "It isn't my right to decide how she will end her life. You know that is our way."
Ed knew. He hated it, but he knew. :I don't enjoy sitting back and watching people die because some heartless deity decided their life wasn't worth saving,: he signed roughly.
The skin around Zouheir's eyes tightened, his eyes darkening with anger. "You think I enjoy this any more than you?" he snapped. "She saved lives and is to be repaid with death. That is the way of this world! Stealing the power of the heavens does not give you the right to decide who lives and who dies, Mulahad!"
Ed remembered that Al had said that word was not meant in kindness, and he closed his eyes, forced himself to take a deep breath, because he wasn't angry at Zouheir, and it wasn't fair for Ed to take out his anger at an entire religion on one practitioner.
He opened his eyes again and signed, :I'm sorry, Zouheir. I meant no disrespect.:
Zouheir deflated, looking lost for a moment, before he rearranged his expression into something a little closer to the calm Ed was used to seeing from him. "Your alchemy is an impossible gift, but you cannot save everyone all the time. You will learn this, in time."
Ed smiled and it felt wretched across his face. :I wouldn't be human if I didn't try,: he returned, and Zouheir's brow furrowed slightly. :Can you show me to others I can help?:
Zouheir nodded and motioned for Ed to follow as he turned to lead the way.
Ed glanced over at the dying Ishvalan woman one last time, clenched his jaw, and turned to follow Zouheir.
He didn't really know when the doctors and Armstrong had shown up, only that he stood at one point and saw three people with medical bags being shown around by soot-covered slum residents, while Armstrong helped repair a partially ruined tent, so they could move some people in there. The muscled man offered Ed a grim nod when he caught him looking, and Ed nodded back.
"He is another State Alchemist?" Zouheir murmured.
:Strong Arm. His family is distinguished and rich; I expect he's the one who called in the doctors.:
Zouheir nodded in understanding and led Ed to the next person.
About two people later, Ed heard his name being called and looked up to find Hughes walking toward him. He gave a tired wave – even the Dragon's Pulse would wear him out eventually, and he knew he was approaching his limit – and forced himself to stand.
"You," Hughes told him as he reached them, "look like shit."
Ed rolled his eyes. :Fuck off,: he signed, using the sexual sign, because he always did with Hughes, though he didn't with Zouheir.
Zouheir let out a slightly startled laugh. "That's not how that sign is used," he pointed out.
Hughes quirked a smile. "He knows. You must be his signing friend."
"Zouheir," the Ishvalan agreed, offering his hand. "You are his commander?"
"Maes Hughes," Hughes agreed, and they shook hands. "It's good to finally get a face to match to your name-sign, though yours is a bit sooty, right now."
Zouheir let out a quiet, tired chuckle. "It has not been an easy day."
"I don't expect so." Hughes' expression turned serious. "I got what information I could out of that young man, and he's currently being looked after by Major Armstrong's youngest sister, but I was hoping you could fill me in on a bit more? Everything I've heard makes it look like this was intentional."
Zouheir folded his hands together in front of himself, the picture of external calm. "If your fire brigade will let us through, I can show you where the fire is said to have begun."
Hughes nodded. "It should be fine. There might be a few small fires left, but we can dodge them or take buckets or something."
Ed huffed and snapped his fingers a few times, until they both looked at him, then signed, :I can put out small fires, easy. It's just basic oxygen manipulation.:
Hughes covered his eyes. "Basic oxygen manipulation," he said drily. "You and Roy, I swear. There's nothing basic about what you freaks do."
Ed snorted and waited until Hughes looked at him again before signing, :You mean there's nothing basic about what the BASTARD does. Putting out fires is basic.:
"Alchemists," Hughes muttered, shaking his head, and Zouheir let out a grunt that was a clear agreement. "Fine, you can come along and play fire extinguisher." Then he shot Ed an assessing look. "Assuming you're able."
Ed sighed and admitted, :I'm going to need to stop healing soon, or someone's going to have to carry me home. In terms of energy usage, putting out fires is on the low end; I'm better off going with you.:
Hughes nodded. "I'm taking your word for it," he warned. "If you collapse, I'm ringing your brother."
Ed rolled his eyes. Al would hardly blame him for working himself to exhaustion while healing people.
Hughes got the necessary permission for them to go into the smouldering ruins, then Zouheir took the lead, carefully picking his way through the remains of lives. Ed had to put out a couple small flames, but the fire brigade had done their job well, and while it was still hot as the damp embers clung to existence, it was tolerable.
"This is where my people have settled," Zouheir said, slowing to a stop in a small clearing, ringed with ashes and bits of metal. He pointed to a patch of ash to one side. "That was my tent and, I am told, where the fire originated."
Ed clenched his fists and he looked away, eyes passing over the rest of the ruined circle.
"Where were you?" Hughes asked in his interviewer voice; devoid of suspicion or blame, but intent on dragging out the clearest possible picture of events.
"Some of the Amestrisan children had interest in sign language–" Ed frowned; that was a curious thing to take an interest in "–so I have been teaching them. I was on the edge of the area that was spared the flames."
"Did you have anything in your tent that could have produced a flame if left unattended?"
"Such is against the rules here; there is too much that would burn too quickly, so all items that produce flame are to be left near the designated fire pits."
Hughes let out a hum and Ed glanced back to find him stepping carefully around the space where Zouheir's tent had been. "Ed, I don't suppose you can rebuild this? Maybe give me an idea of what started the fire?"
Ed blinked a few times and moved to the edge of the ashes. They were damp from the fire brigade's efforts, and still a little warm. There wouldn't be much of the cloth left to reconstruct, but some of Zouheir's belongings had likely survived. And, unless their culprit had just lit the edge of Zouheir's tent on fire and run, hoping everything would catch, there should be something. Maybe. (Although, the person should have realised Zouheir wasn't there, in that case. Or maybe Zouheir wasn't the target, specifically, but the Ishvalans in general?
(Running possibilities without facts wasn't going to get him anywhere.)
Ed turned to Zouheir, all too aware of the argument they just had. :Is it okay?:
Zouheir carefully folded his hands together, his qi flickering with indecision for a moment, before he admitted, "Perhaps I wish against my beliefs, but I do not have so many belongings that I would not appreciate the return of some lost, even when returned through alchemy."
Ed quirked him a smile. :I'm a bad judge, there.:
"You are," Zouheir agreed a bit drily.
Ed nodded and motioned for Hughes to step back, then took a moment to eye the ashes, remembering what he could of the tent and belongings he knew had been Zouheir's. He took a careful breath and clapped, envisioning the array he'd need, then knelt and touched the edge of the ashes.
The transmutation lit blue for a long moment, struggling to make sense of what little remained, before something almost seemed to wake, and the light changed to red.
Ed broke away from the transmutation, mouthing curses, but the tent kept rebuilding all on its own, already given what little direction had been necessary.
"Ed?" Hughes asked, sounding a bit freaked out. "I thought alchemy stopped when you stopped touching it."
Ed shoved himself to his feet and dodged around the fading energy, ignoring as it sparked against his skin, leaving behind drops of restored energy. He traced it to the tent behind Zouheir's and kicked the ashes out of the way with his left foot, finally coming across a small red rock that was an unfamiliar shape.
'Fuck,' he mouthed as he bent down to pick it up.
As soon as he touched it, though, the Stone broke and disintegrated, leaving Ed energised and filled with a sense of satisfaction; the souls that had made up that Stone had chosen their own end.
"Edward!" Hughes called, sounding rather like that hadn't been the first time he'd called Ed's name.
:A Philosopher's Stone,: Ed signed, pre-empting what was certain to be the next question. He stood and looked past Hughes, who looked rather stunned, to Zouheir, who looked confused; Ed had never introduced him to that sign. :Who lived here?:
"An Amestrisan man, recently arrived. He walked with a limp, answered to Mar. Many of the children were afraid of him," Zouheir offered.
:They were right to be,: Ed signed grimly; anyone with a Philosopher's Stone among their belongings very likely had a dark history.
"Have you seen him since the fire?" Hughes asked.
Zouheir shook his head. "None of those who were known to have been so close to my tent survived, and he rarely left his tent. What is it that has you so disturbed?"
Ed kicked carefully at the ashes some more, leaving it for Hughes to ask, "Do you know what a Philosopher's Stone is?"
Zouheir said something that Ed suspected was an Ishvalan curse.
Ed stopped as his right foot knocked against something rather more solid than ashes, and grimaced upon discovering it was the hand of a burnt corpse. He turned back towards Hughes and Zouheir, who were both looking in his direction. :Not all who keep Philosopher's Stones are bad people, though the vast majority are. Either way, I believe he's dead.:
Hughes came to see and grimaced himself upon spotting Ed's find. "Likely. I'll send the morgue out here to pick up what bodies they can, but the likelihood of getting a positive identification on any of them is slim, especially someone we only have what's likely a partial name for." He sighed and looked back towards Zouheir's perfectly reformed tent. "So, what happened there?"
:The Stone wanted to help,: Ed signed, before starting around to the front of the tent.
"They have wishes?" Zouheir asked.
"Unfortunately," Hughes agreed, enough sorrow in his qi, Ed suspected it was showing on his face. "You'll have to ask Ed for more information; he's the closest thing to an expert that we have."
"I don't believe that's something to be proud of."
"Ed has a habit of knowing terrible things. I think you have an idea what I mean."
"I do," Zouheir agreed, something like grief in his voice.
Ed sighed and set about looking through the tent, ignoring anything he knew was Zouheir's. When he found something clearly out of place, he gave a whistle, and Hughes hurried in to come see, Zouheir stopping in the doorway.
Hughes picked up the object to look it over, his serious expression edged with anger. "This is military paperwork," he murmured of the paper wrapped around the object. "I'll have to let the technicians have it, see if they can't narrow down the department based on the typewriter keystrokes, or whatever magic they use."
Ed snorted.
Hughes shot him a faintly amused look, before turning serious again and carefully peeling a corner of the paper away to reveal what looked to be wax filled with wood. "We were never meant to find this."
Ed shook his head; this evidence would have been far past his own ability to reconstruct from the ashes. :They wanted to help.:
Hughes' mouth pressed thin for a moment before he said, "They did."
Ed nodded.
Hughes got to his feet. "I need to get this back to Investigations and sit on the techs until they come up with answers. You should probably come with me, get some food."
Ed shrugged. :I suppose. I'm feeling better, though. Just needed the break.:
Hughes' gaze said he knew better, that he suspected Ed's returned energy was due to something else entirely, but didn't debate it as they joined Zouheir and started back toward the bustle of the undamaged tents. "Zouheir, you're welcome to collect your things and move them to another location; we shouldn't need anything out of them."
Zouheir offered a strained smile. "More survived than I was expecting." He glanced at Ed. "I may have to re-evaluate."
Ed quirked a smile at him. :I started the transmutation, but I wasn't the one to finish it; for all any of us know, your god directed this creation.:
"Careful, Mulahad," Zouheir warned. "Only the foolish guess at the ways of the divine."
Ed snorted. :I never said I wasn't foolish.:
"That's the truth," Hughes muttered, and Ed lightly swatted his arm.
A rush of grief-threaded rage aimed at Ed warned him, and he dodged out of the way of the attack coming from behind. He saw a gleam of silver in his attacker's hands as he stumbled past, and he had a kunai in one hand without even thinking about it.
And then his attacker spun, revealing angry red eyes, and Hughes breathed out a curse from just behind him, Ed having stepped protectively in front of the man automatically, even though he was clearly the target. (He was paranoid, okay. No way he wanted to stand over Hughes' grave again.)
"Amir!" Zouheir snapped, voice cracking like a whip and making the attacker flinch. "What is the meaning of this?"
The attacker – he couldn't have been more than a few years older than Ed's physical age – waved his short knife at Ed. "He killed her! He killed Hala!"
What? Ed hadn't killed anyone. (Well, an argument could be made for starting the chain of events that had brought the Ishvalans to this slum, where some soldier with a grudge tried to set them all on fire, but Ed really was trying not to think that way; he had enough sins without adding this mess to the top of the pile.)
"The fire killed your sister," Zouheir replied evenly.
The young man shook his head roughly. "He saved the Amestrisans! Why didn't he save Hala? It is because we are worth less to his kind!" He spat in Ed's direction, falling well short. "Mulahad."
Yeah, definitely not a polite term.
Zouheir stepped forward and grabbed the young man's wrist, squeezing tight, likely in an attempt to get him to drop the knife. "He did not heal your sister because I would not let him; it is not for us to decide who lives and who dies."
"It should be!" the young man shouted, yanking at his wrist to try and free it from Zouheir's hold. "She was good!" He turned to Ed again, eyes burning with anger. "You mulahad always leave such destruction. Even when you try to create you do it wrong."
There was something in Ed, curled up in the darkest parts of him, which started laughing; he didn't need to be reminded that everything he touched fell to pieces in his hands eventually.
His smile felt wretched on his face, and he slipped his kunai away before signing, :Yes, I do.:
Then he turned and motioned for Hughes to follow him back into the city; he wasn't needed here, and he had labs to see to.
Lab three gave him something unrelated to his own fuck ups to focus on, and lab two gave him a chance to calm down a bit, so he was actually able to smile with some honesty when he came to find Hughes so they could head home, and the man passed on, "The Armstrongs have offered to put up any of the Ishvalans who wish it on their own property, in the house or within the fenced-in boundaries of their land, as they prefer. Since all signs point to this being a racially motivated attack."
:Zouheir?: Ed asked.
"He was the first to agree," Hughes said, smiling, and Ed smiled back, grateful that his almost-friend would be safer than he had been. "A couple refused, but most of them are taking the offer, and those that are remaining in the slum agreed to give any that come after the same options."
:That's good,: Ed signed. :Any news on that paperwork?:
"The techs have it." Hughes huffed a bit. "I was kicked out and ordered to stay out until Monday, so I assume they intend to have something solid for us then."
:But only if you keep from hovering?:
"So it seems," Hughes admitted with a quiet laugh.
Ed's dreams, that night, were awash in charred and rotting remains, his unconscious kindly extrapolating from the handful of charred corpses – or fake corpses, in one case – that he'd seen over the years, and added them to the Cretan warzone he'd stumbled through when he was nineteen.
He sat up in bed for a long while after he'd dragged himself from the clutches of those nightmare images, before he walked over to his desk to write a letter that was long overdue.
Bastard,
You look at me and see something good, for reasons I don't pretend to understand, but I have a history of things that I touch falling to pieces in my hands. I care too much about you and the future of Amestris to let that happen to you. Just walk away. Please.
E. Elric
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