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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: All you people hoping Roy would come in person to talk some sense into Ed... Not quite. He's still got a job to muck about with not doing (XD), and random visits to Central would be very suspicious.
There was a brief discussion on AO3 about the now-deceased 'Mar' from the slums being Marcoh. ^^; Honestly, Mar was named after the cat I was sitting when I wrote that scene (Marley, nicknamed Mar-Mar), so that wasn't intentional, but as Marcoh never makes a proper appearance in this fic, you're certainly welcome to think so? (As a note, Ed had never seen the Stone 'Mar' had – that's briefly mentioned, that it was unfamiliar – so the assumption was that it wasn't Marcoh.)
Lolibat made me fanart of Ed in his uniform!! :D Link to it on tumblr!
Chapter Sixteen
-0-
Edward,
Perhaps this is a failing we share; I don't consider myself a particularly good man, but you seem intent on believing the best of me.
You say things you touch fall apart, but I don't quite know to what you're referring. From what you've said, your marriage, while weakened, never fell apart, and the country obviously survived. I can only assume Alphonse survived, since you've never suggested otherwise, and from a comment Maes made in passing, he was married to someone you approved of.
You keep saying this is your second chance, that you get to fix everything that ever went wrong, but not everything that needs to be "fixed" was necessarily "broken".
You said you ran away, last time; this time, why don't you try staying?
Roy Mustang
Ed should have known Mustang wasn't about to give up, but he hadn't expected quite so rapid a response as he received, almost as though Mustang had known exactly what to say, he'd just needed proof that Ed was still listening.
And what he'd said...
This wasn't just exchanging letters because Hughes and Al were pushing them, or because Mustang had a mission for Al and wanted to be certain Ed was okay with it. This wasn't some inane 'I care' tripe. This was 'I want to try a relationship with you'.
This was political suicide, for Mustang, and the massive part of Ed that decided it didn't care, sort of scared him.
So, even though he couldn't keep from slipping the letter into his journal, like a good luck talisman, Ed tried one last time to dissuade the stupid bastard.
Bastard,
Never mind career suicide, you've gone straight for a prison sentence! You can't be in a relationship with someone who's underage! Idiot.
Edward
The techs did have the requested results on Monday, and it led them straight to Brigadier General Clemin's own secretary.
"We aren't claiming that Second Lieutenant Harris is involved in the attack at all," Hughes told Clemin, once he and Ed had been admitted to his office, "but the form originated in this office, which means it is likely someone under your command."
Clemin scowled. "It was just a slum, Lieutenant Colonel. Let it go."
Hughes shrugged. "It was a racially motivated attack against a group of Ishvalans who had settled there, one of whom is Major Elric's friend. He cares, as does former Lieutenant General Philip Armstrong and his family, as they have offered to house the Ishvalans for their safety; I'm afraid I cannot simply 'let this matter go', sir."
Clemin shot Ed a disgusted look and he met it with the flat stare Hughes had warned him was as belligerent as they could chance, if they were hoping for Clemin's cooperation.
Because it was true, it was just an attack in one of the slums, and no one in Central Command – outside of Ed, Hughes, and their Investigations team – gave a damn that the targets had been Ishvalans. Philip Armstrong's name carried some power, enough to get them through the figurative front door, but if they couldn't gain Clemin's permission, there would be no investigation.
Ed despised military politics.
"Fine," Clemin said at last, turning back to Hughes. "Do your investigation of my command, but stay out of my office; some of us are trying to do important, classified work here and don't need your kind sticking their noses in."
"I understand, sir," Hughes agreed, saluting. Next to him, Ed bowed. "Thank you for your cooperation."
"Tch. I don't know why we even have your department," he muttered.
Hughes touched Ed's arm and they showed themselves out.
:I wonder what he's hiding,: Ed signed with grim humour.
Hughes shot him a knowing smile. :Don't go borrowing trouble.:
Ed snorted. :I don't need to. He'll find out what we're for once we blow this whole conspiracy wide open, and it's left to Investigations to put together the details.:
:Don't remind me,: Hughes signed with a grimace. :I think I'll plan to take a nap during your freak-show battle, so I'm well-rested for the clean-up.:
Ed made a show of laughing at him, until Hughes very pointedly refused to look at him any more.
Edward,
Are you suggesting you're incapable of keeping a secret?
The only people who are likely to notice any change in my behaviour already know you're not a minor, intellectually (which is what really matters, in the end), and I suspect the same will hold true for you.
What are your favourite flowers?
Roy
Ed just sort of stared at that letter for a while, torn between amused-as-fuck and disbelieving.
"Ed?" Gracia called, poking her head into his room. "Are you coming down for dinner?"
:Führer Bastard is fucking insane,: Ed couldn't stop himself from signing.
Gracia let out a quiet laugh and stepped properly into the doorway. "Is that why you came running up here when you got home? To read one of his letters?"
Ed startled – crap – and shot her a scowl. :Don't tell Hughes.:
Her smile widened. "I promise. Dinner?"
Ed huffed and stood; he could write his response after dinner just as easily. (It was unlikely to change.)
If you buy me fucking FLOWERS, Roy Mustang, I will shove them up your arse.
Unfortunately, disliking Ishvalans was something of a popular past time, and knowing how to build a fire starter like the one they'd found, was a part of basic military training, which should have put them right back at square one – no leads, hundreds of suspects – but Ed remembered that squad of men who he'd had the run-in with in the slums, and, once they'd realised what the Investigations personnel were looking for and that they wanted to help, both the Ishvalan and Amestrisan residents of the slums had been willing to pass on descriptions of other soldiers they'd noticed looking a bit too interested in the Ishvalan presence.
So it was, by the end of the week, they had a list of ten men and women to interview. It probably would have been sooner, but Ed still had the labs to take care of – Grand supported their endeavours to find the culprit behind the fire, but he was too busy to take a tour through the labs himself (and there were parts of the research that he just trusted Ed's word on, not having the time to fuss with something that wasn't his speciality) and he didn't have to explain why they couldn't be left for a week – and there was still plenty of necessary paperwork crossing Hughes' desk, a lot of which his team could – and did – power through for him, but there was always something that he couldn't delegate.
Rather than let everything sit for the weekend, and in an attempt to keep Clemin happy – he didn't like the regular disruption to work output the investigation was proving, but he didn't care what happened outside of work hours – Ed, Hughes, Armstrong, and the rest of the investigation team that Hughes had gathered, came in on their days off and ran the interviews.
Armstrong had explained to Ed, as they set up two interview rooms, that they usually had one or two people at the table, asking the questions, and one 'threat' standing by the wall. Armstrong was the most obvious 'threat' on the team – hulking physique, not at all quiet about his combat prowess, and an alchemist – but Ed would be serving as a second. Which had surprised him – he had none of the infamy that he'd earned as a kid, before – but Armstrong had assured him it would be fine.
It was fine. Ed didn't really have to do much more than stand there and watch everything with a glare – his specialty – and occasionally clean out under his fingernails with one of his kunai, if their interviewee was being difficult. He might not have been known for leaving destruction in his wake, now, but he was a regular at the gym, and eight months was apparently plenty of time to spread rumours about the mute State Alchemist who didn't need arrays and had survived a run-in with the killer that even Brigadier General Grand had nearly succumbed to. (The killer who, while still at large, given he'd been spotted down south, and been rumoured to have been in the west, since then, hadn't made another attempt on a State Alchemist in almost three months. According to one particularly talkative interviewee, who'd wanted to make sure he knew who Ed was, rumour was that Ed had spooked the guy into good behaviour. Ed'd had to leave the room so he could laugh in the hallway for a minute; if only the rumour-mongers knew how close they were.)
Irritatingly, their interviews didn't give them anything, and Ed and Hughes had dragged their way home in a slump Sunday night.
Which lasted until about nine-thirty, just after Ed had left the living room for bed, when the phone rang. Ed stepped out of the way of the stairs, letting Gracia past to check on the girls – the ringing had probably woken at least one of them – while Hughes picked up the phone and quietly offered, "Maes Hughes speaking." He fell very, very still for a moment before a sharp grin pulled across his face. "We'll be there in ten minutes." He hung up, looking toward Ed. "We caught a break: Someone just tried to attack the Ishvalans living on the Armstrong property, and Catherine caught him."
Ed felt a grin creeping across his own face. He'd met the youngest Armstrong daughter on a few occasions, both before and more recently, and could say, with relative certainty, that she was probably the only member of the family he wouldn't mind spending time with, socially, but was just as terrifying as her eldest sister. If only because Catherine was sweet, naïve, and had a rather innocent air about her, but she was also a terrifying powerhouse who didn't quite seem to realise her own strength. Which meant that when something spooked her – like a bee, on one memorable occasion – she would pick up the nearest object – like the café table they'd been having coffee around – and use it as a weapon.
They'd both changed out of uniform when they'd got home, tired of being stuck in it on their days off, and, in silent agreement, they only bothered to collect their uniform jackets (and Ed his sash) from upstairs, Hughes pausing to let Gracia know where they were headed, before hurrying out to the Armstrong estate.
Most of the city was dark, due to the late hour, but the Armstrong estate was lit up like it was trying to ward away the long hours of darkness during Yule. Ed appreciated that, for ease of communicating – he still hadn't let slip about the array Colourway had gifted him, not even to Hughes, for no other reason, really, than that keeping everything he knew a secret until it became absolutely necessary, had become something of a second nature – but he suspected their handful of neighbours close enough to get the light through their windows were less than pleased.
Major Armstrong met them at the gate with a crisp salute, then led them onto the property, explaining, "Catherine likes to wander down and check on the encampment before turning in, and she was just heading back up to the house when she saw movement on the lawn. She threw the book she was holding at the movement and managed to knock out what turned out to be a man in uniform. He had another fire starter, as well as his service pistol on him, one in each hand."
"Making sure he didn't screw up a second time," Hughes assumed grimly. "Is he awake?"
"Not yet," Armstrong admitted with way too much pride, in Ed's opinion. "We did manage to identify him, however: Sergeant Major Richard Hawker. He's a member of Colonel Gloster's office staff."
"And Gloster is under Clemin's command," Hughes finished for him. "Good. He wasn't one of our original suspects, though."
Ed nudged him and signed, :None of that office was. Most of them seemed pretty ambivalent about Ishvalans in general.:
"The office was mostly ambivalent," Hughes agreed, worded for Armstrong's benefit; the man knew some signs – most of the people that Ed worked with in Investigations had learnt a handful, likely just from seeing him communicate with Hughes all the time; being able to pick things up via context clues tended to be a skill you either had before joining the department, or developed quickly – but not enough for all that, so far as Ed was aware. "Gloster wasn't, was very clearly against Ishvalans. And didn't he come out to glare at his staff while they were answering?"
:He did, didn't he? Think he knows anything?:
"He might know something, but I don't have the power to call him out about it without evidence," Hughes admitted.
"Then let us see if we might get some," Armstrong said as they entered the house. "The sergeant major is this way."
Someone had procured smelling salts from somewhere and, once Ed had (somewhat grudgingly) healed the gash from Catherine's book, they were used to bring their culprit around.
Ed couldn't say if it was the sight of Ed and Hughes' uniform jackets, or the hulking forms of Alex and Philip (who had come to join them) Armstrong standing behind them, but Sergeant Major Hawker opened his eyes, stared at his welcoming committee with something approaching horror for a beat, and said, "I'll tell you everything!"
"That," Hughes said with a lion's smile, "would be wise."
There was a fair bit of stammering and backtracking involved, but the picture that formed was thus: Colonel Gloster had heard about the Ishvalans settling in the southern slum through the grapevine and decided, when it was clear nothing was going to be done about them, that he needed to take matters into his own hands. Except he needed to keep his hands clean of the matter – Ed, Hughes, and Armstrong all agreed that the man very probably had an air-tight alibi for both the first fire, and this attempt – so he'd ordered his office team to handle the problem for him. Whoever managed to wipe out all the Ishvalans would receive a promotion, and refusing to try would be met with a termination of their military contract.
Second Lieutenant Westland had been the one to set the first fire, and while he would absolutely be serving a sentence for manslaughter, Hughes suspected they would lighten it, since he'd been following orders, and this was the military. Sergeant Major Hawker would be getting off light with charges of trespassing – Philip had been willing to let that go, but Hughes suggested a couple nights in lock-up would be the best way to keep Hawker out of Gloster's way – which would allow him to continue military service, unlike the second lieutenant.
As for Gloster...
"If Roy was here, this would be easier," Hughes muttered as they watched the MPs walk Hawker out to the waiting car. "I can hand the writ for Gloster's arrest up to Gardner, but he's not likely to sign it before Gloster skips town."
Knowing Lieutenant General Gardner – who was in charge of the Investigations department, but avoided the building as much as possible – he might well wait a few days to sign the writ just to irritate Hughes; Ed didn't know exactly what had happened there, but he'd heard and seen plenty of evidence to suggest that Hughes and Gardner had a falling out over something, and the lieutenant general was incapable of letting it go, so he would regularly ignore requests from Hughes' office for days.
:Do we need Gardner specifically?: Ed asked.
Hughes gave him a considering look. "Not necessarily. What are you thinking?"
:I'm thinking I might have a favour to cash in with Grand.: Saving him from Scar; neither Ed nor Grand had acknowledged that that had earned him a favour, but it was something of a time-honoured tradition in the military, that if you saved an officer's life outside of your own duties, you were owed one. And besides, they were both alchemists, and that meant equivalent exchange.
Hughes frowned and scratched at his beard. "You're sure? Favours from the brass aren't something to use lightly."
:I know, and I'm not. If he's on the run, he doesn't need to keep his hands clean. I'm not going to endanger the lives of countless Ishvalans for a chance to have Grand in my pocket. Especially since there's a chance he's in with the other conspirators.:
"A good reason to hold on to favours," Hughes murmured. "You might be able to at least stop him fighting us."
:I don't intend to put faith in a flimsy concept like 'favours' when the whole country's at risk,: Ed returned, his expression flat. :This is just one life. There's no reason for him to refuse.:
Hughes nodded. "It's your favour," he admitted. "You'll have to go by his office first thing tomorrow morning."
Ed frowned at that, looking toward the main gates of the estate, where a handful of curious locals – probably unable to sleep because of the light and excitement, or just naturally night owls – were trying to look uninterested in the proceedings. No one out there should have got a view of Hawker's face as he was taken out, but they might have seen him in the car, and if Gloster knew enough to have an alibi, like Ed and Hughes assumed, as soon as he heard there was an arrest made, he would suspect foul play.
:I know where he lives,: he signed, because he'd memorised the addresses for all the Central City brass, since knowing where your enemies lived was good knowledge to have, in his experience. :It's on our way home.:
"You can't wake a brigadier general in the middle of the night, Ed!" Hughes hissed.
:Maybe YOU can't,: Ed returned, because he looked fourteen and could get away with a faux pas like this.
Hughes groaned, but readily fell in next to Ed as he started toward the gate.
Ed hadn't been joking about Grand's place being on the way; his townhouse was only about four blocks away from the Hugheses', and only a one-block detour from their route from the Armstrong estate.
Ed was a little surprised, admittedly, when the door was opened by Grand less than twenty seconds after he'd knocked, and the man was clearly unsurprised to see them. "I suspect this visit is related to the military police vehicles that have been going past for the last couple hours?" Grand said as he stepped back, motioning them inside.
"Ah, yes, sir, it is," Hughes agreed as he and Ed took the invitation.
Grand closed the door and turned to face them, a light down the hall casting just enough illumination that Ed would be able to sign. "Your Ishvalan killer," he said, not even pretending it was a question; there weren't that many active cases with bearing in Central, and this was the only one Ed was officially a part of.
(He consulted on other cases, certainly – he was fluent in five languages, counting sign language and Amestrisan, arguably the best alchemist in Amestris, and had knowledge and experiences that most of the Investigations department couldn't comprehend – but between his disability and his duty with the labs, he couldn't really commit full-time to any formal investigations. Indeed, he shouldn't be so deeply involved in this one, except it was personal, and Hughes had been willing and able to plan around his State Alchemist duties.)
Hughes cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. It turns out Colonel Gloster charged his office staff with handling the problem for him. As you are no doubt aware, I require permission from or the assistance of a ranking officer to arrest anyone above the rank of a lieutenant colonel."
Grand nodded; that was common knowledge, and probably one of the few securities that the brass had against Investigations and the MP sticking their noses too deeply into military command's misdeeds. "And you're here instead of harassing Lieutenant General Gardner because?"
Hughes shifted and clasped his hands behind his back. "Lieutenant General Gardner doesn't always consider my requests in a timely manner."
:Gardner's a fucking dick with a chip on his shoulder,: Ed supplied, and Hughes' mouth twitched, but he clearly had no intention in translating that.
"Yes," Grand said drily, "he does occasionally complain about how much paperwork you give him."
Ed snorted, because Major Dornier and his team put out way more paperwork than any other team in Investigations, then signed, :I was hoping you'd be willing to support us on this. As a favour.:
Grand gave him a hard stare once Hughes had finished translating. "Is a life in trade for an arrest equivalent?" he asked, clearly meaning it to be rhetorical.
Ed smiled, knew it was a little too sharp, but couldn't figure out how to soften it any. :There is no equivalence for a human life, but I consider stopping these attacks on the Ishvalans a fair trade.:
Hughes kindly translated that without rolling his eyes or muttering about 'alchemists and their equivalent exchange', which Ed had heard often enough when the man was translating for anyone in Investigations or a civilian. (Armstrong had developed the habit of only asking Ed alchemy-based questions when Hughes was around, and Ed suspected it was intentional, and probably an attempt to get him back for all the photos of his family.)
"One day, Silent Alchemist, I will meet this Ishvalan friend you are so loyal to," Grand said, shaking his head. Then he turned to Hughes. "Do you have Colonel Gloster's address?"
"Not on me, sir, but we keep a record at the front desk in Investigations, and I'm fairly certain he lives across town, so it's on the way," Hughes said. Ed knew the man only knew that much because he kept such careful track of where officers who might get in Mustang's way were, especially those in Central City. And Gloster was clearly one of the quieter ones, or Hughes would have memorised his home address.
Grand nodded. "Then I will meet you at your building." He glanced down at Hughes' house trousers. "You may also consider a more thorough change into uniform, Lieutenant Colonel."
Ed snorted; his own trousers were partially hidden by his sash as a regular matter of course, so no one would really notice if he wasn't wearing his uniform pair. (He always did, during normal work hours, mostly because they were slightly more comfortable to sit in for hours than his preferred leather trousers, and they were about on par for mobility, when it came to scaling buildings and jumping across roofs.)
Hughes put on a helpless smile. "You may be right, sir." Then he glanced at Ed. "Since Major Elric is enjoying himself so much, and no one cares if he breaks the uniform regulations, perhaps he can go on ahead and find that address."
:You're kind of an arsehole,: Ed informed him, and Hughes snorted. :Yes, fine. I know where the binder is. Do you want me to grab a couple military police on my way?:
"A couple MPs would be helpful, yes," Hughes agreed, before turning to Grand and inclining his head. "Thank you for being willing to do this tonight, sir."
Grand shook his head. "I, too, would like this matter put to rest." He looked at Ed, amusement in his qi, though his expression remained poker-flat. "And there's something to be said for setting to rest one of the favours I owe you, Silent."
Ed frowned. 'One of?' he mouthed.
Grand raised his left hand in response, wiggling the fingers; he didn't have perfect dexterity, any more, but he could make a fist and grasp things, which was better than he would have ended up with if Ed hadn't interceded.
Ed quirked an understanding smile; one favour still owed it was, then.
Grand nodded and opened the door. "I will see you both at your building shortly."
"Sir!" Hughes replied, saluting, while Ed hid his eye roll with a bow.
Hughes waited until they were outside and Grand had closed the door behind them, before saying, "You'll have to tell me what else he owes you for, when we have light again."
Ed snorted and shrugged.
He did stop by the MP office on his way, and was rewarded with a sergeant and two privates, who followed him to Investigations and waited patiently while he looked up Gloster's address and copied it down. They had unrolled a map and were tracing the quickest route when Grand arrived, Hughes not far behind.
They took cars over to Gloster's house, a well-appointed two-storey not far from where Brigadier Generals Clemin and Edison lived. The sergeant knocked, then stepped back so Grand could take the lead.
Ed sensed a spike of curiosity in the house, which slowly approached the door. Gloster must have looked through the peephole and seen more than just Grand – or having any member of the brass at his door spooked him – because panic flashed through his qi, and then he hurried back toward the back of the house.
:He's running!: Ed warned Hughes, who had stayed back with him, near the streetlight.
"Back door!" Hughes called, and both privates, who were stationed at either side of the house, jumped the fence and vanished into the back garden.
They came out through the gate about two minutes later, Gloster walking between them with an expression that couldn't decide between anger and fear.
"Well," Grand said, as the trio reached them by the streetlight; he and the sergeant had joined Ed and Hughes as soon as the privates jumped the fence, "I guess no one has to explain why you're under arrest, then, Colonel."
"Bunch of Ishvalan lovers," Gloster spat, apparently settling on anger, even though his qi was still a giant mass of terror.
Ed rolled his eyes because, yes, arresting a man who had threatened his own command into attempting acts of arson to wipe out a handful of people made them all Ishvalan lovers. Absolutely.
(Ed was actually pretty okay with that, given he considered himself something of a humanitarian, when he bothered with labels. Mostly just because he didn't like watching people die or suffer, and he refused to kill.)
Grand's expression didn't change, but his qi took on a definite note of disgust aimed specifically at Gloster. "Colonel Roald Gloster, I'm putting you under arrest for the crime of inciting others to commit murder. Until the conclusion of the investigation against you, you are formally stripped of your rank. Should you be found innocent by a tribunal of your peers, you will be reinstated." And then Grand's mouth turned with a very much not nice smile. "I wouldn't hold my breath for that eventuality, if I were you."
(Nope. Ed still liked Grand. Dammit. Please let him be a candidate for sacrifice and not a member of the inner circle selling their morals for a chance at immortality.)
Finally climbing into bed that night felt like a victory, even if he was only looking at three hours of sleep.
Monday was spent interviewing Gloster's office staff and getting confirmation about the bribe and threat, as well as other minor details. Second Lieutenant Westland was arrested with no complications and readily confessed in return for the promise of a lighter sentencing than he was due for the fifteen lives lost in the fire he'd set. Gloster, on the other hand, attempted to talk his way out of trouble, at first – insisted he'd only run because of temporary panic, that his office team all hated him and they were lying – apparently unbothered by Armstrong's hulking form in the corner.
So Armstrong bowed out and found Ed in one of the interviews with Gloster's staff, tapping his shoulder. "Trade."
Ed raised an eyebrow at that, then shrugged and made his way down to the other interview room.
Hughes blinked at him when he stepped in, and Ed shrugged.
"You think a child is a better enforcer than that soft-hearted major?" Gloster asked with a scoff, his qi a mess of belligerence and disgust; clearly, he was familiar with Investigations' interview practices, as well as the fact that Armstrong wasn't nearly as inclined towards violence as his physique suggested.
Ed smiled and pressed his hands together, letting his alchemy spark across his fingers and watching Gloster narrow his eyes. And then he pulled them apart and, carefully keeping the prepared reaction in check, scratched at his nose with one hand, while flicking out a kunai with his other.
Gloster yelped as the weapon flew past the side of his face, fluttering his hair and barely missing his ear. He twisted in his chair to look back at where the kunai had embedded itself in the wall, then joined Hughes and First Lieutenant Blackburn in turning to give Ed slightly disbelieving looks.
:My hand slipped,: Ed signed, before stepping around the table to collect his kunai. As he got in range, he let his hand brush against Gloster's arm, letting loose the transmutation and sparking him with a rather nasty electric shock.
Gloster yelped again and jerked away from him, his qi sparking with fear.
Ed crossed back to the other side of the table as he slipped his kunai away, then leant back against the wall and smiled.
Gloster apparently decided it was time to start talking.
Once Gloster had been led out by a couple MPs, Hughes and Blackburn both turned to Ed, Hughes more obviously amused, but humour was sparking in Blackburn's qi, even though her face was an unimpressed mask. "What did you do, Ed?" Hughes asked.
Ed shrugged. :It was just a little static shock.:
"You...alchemised a static shock?" Hughes asked.
:You have seen how much electrical charge an average transmutation lets off, right?: Ed returned, rolling his eyes.
Hughes sighed. "Let me guess, another one of your 'basic' arrays?"
Ed couldn't quite stop a silent laugh because no, not even a little bit. For all that alchemy looked like it would let off a lot of electric shock, it actually didn't, which was why it wasn't actually a danger to the user (so far as they remained within their personal limits and avoided human transmutation, which was a whole other kettle of fish). Electricity arrays were actually pretty complicated, and required some sort of insulated metal to use effectively without seriously harming yourself.
Creating a static shock, though, dealt very heavily in manipulating electrons, which was subatomic alchemy and only possible, so far as Ed was aware, after seeing the Gate. Mostly because atomic science had been left behind in favour of alchemy, and looking into what made up chemical elements wasn't a priority for anyone, save those non-alchemist scientists who were considered crackpots and shunned by most of the scientific society. Since a part of being able to perform any array was comprehension of the component parts involved, that left subatomic alchemy far beyond the skill of normal alchemists, so the idea of an array to create a static shock was met with a great deal of scepticism and some mocking, as Ed had found out when he'd tried to pass it on to the military's researchers and State Alchemists, before. (Al had been extremely sympathetic for about two minutes. Then he'd burst out laughing and wouldn't stop until Ed beat him into silence. Jerk.)
"Laughing is a no?" Blackburn suggested.
"Laughing is a no," Hughes agreed. "How complicated are we talking here?"
:Al is the only other military-employed alchemist who will believe it's possible,: Ed admitted, trying to get a handle on his grin.
Hughes blinked at him, then turned to Blackburn. "This conversation never happened."
Her mouth twitched. "What conversation, sir?"
"This is why I like you, Lieutenant," Hughes announced as he stood. And then he signed to Ed, :No more impossible alchemy in my interrogation rooms.:
:You realise that's the best kind, right?: Ed returned. :No one would believe him if he claimed that was intentional.:
Hughes huffed and very pointedly turned away from Ed. "Don't you have translations to be doing, Major?"
Ed shot the better-known 'fuck you' sign at his back, and Blackburn coughed to suppress a laugh, her qi practically dancing.
Ed really was quite fond of Hughes' team.
Edward,
Not flowers, then. Dinner? Something disgustingly greasy and certain to make us both regret our life choices for the next twenty-four hours, I suspect.
Roy
Ed spent a day huffing over Mustang's letter – first flowers and now dinner? Fucking romantics – before he did his run through lab one and found himself faced with some ridiculously excited fire and unimpressed water alchemy researchers.
"Do you think he'll come here?" Victor Krane – one of the fire researchers and self-declared 'biggest Flame Alchemist fan ever'; Ed had almost broken something, he'd laughed so hard – was saying excitedly as Ed stepped into their lab.
Aspen Matthews, one of the water researchers, scoffed. "Please. He doesn't have the time for your sorry arse."
"Maybe he'll let you lick his shoes, if you beg enough, and some of his genius will wear off on you," Josh Newman, another water alchemist, added sarcastically.
"You're just sore there's no Water Alchemist you can pester for tips," Elizabeth Sherman, one of the fire researchers, said, before sticking out her tongue.
Ed whistled; he'd already seen these two groups come to blows twice over stupid shit, and he really had no interest in healing any of them again, just because they were fucking children.
All six of them stiffened, a couple shooting him vaguely panicked looks.
And then Victor, bless his sad little soul, gave Ed a hopeful look and asked, "Is it true Colonel Mustang is going to be transferred to Central?"
Ed blinked because, well, yes. Eventually. He wrote, 'Where did you hear that?' in his journal and held it up.
Aspen huffed. "It's just some stupid rumour that started circulating. Some colonel or another got arrested, I guess, and they're talking about who to shove in his office. Mustang keeps coming up."
That would be...nice, actually. Ed had no idea what stopping Scar had done to Mustang's chances of being moved to Central because they'd lost too many State Alchemists, in truth. He'd been working under the assumption that they'd want as many sacrifices and sacrifice candidates as possible in Central by the end of the year, and then crossing his fingers and hoping for the best.
'I can verify a col was arrested,' he wrote, 'but I haven't heard anything about Mustang.'
Victor crossed his fingers, closed his eyes, and started mouthing what looked like, 'Please, please, please'.
Ed wasn't the only one to roll his eyes.
Once he finished with his run through lab one, though, Ed bought lunch at a reasonable café across from Command, then took it to sit in the mess near a table of enlisted soldiers who he had learnt months ago were horrible gossips. And, indeed, rumours had Mustang as the top pick for Gloster's soon-to-be vacant office.
Of course, most of the rumours from this group tended to be the "I heard it from a friend, who heard it from a friend, who heard it in the hall from someone who works in so-and-so's office" variety, but Ed had found that they actually tended to be pretty good about keeping tabs on the brass and the goings on in their offices. Likely because, when the brass decided to go fuck some shit up, it affected everyone.
Well, he supposed that was something worth passing on to Mustang, if only to dissuade him from his romance bullshit.
Bastard,
Greasy food is fucking DELICIOUS, shut your perfect face. And you can't take me out to dinner, you paedophile.
Hughes has probably already passed it on, but a spot opened for a colonel here at Central. Rumour is the brass are thinking to bring some of their eastern powerhouses to heel. Give Havoc some warning this time, won't you? (Though I suspect it's already too late.)
Edward
On Friday, after Ed and Grand had gone over his report on the labs, Grand sat back and shot him a considering look for a long moment, his qi a muddle of curiosity and caution and suspicion, though the latter didn't seem to be aimed at Ed?
Ed raised an eyebrow at him.
Grand mimed writing, then pointed at Ed's journal.
Ed blinked at him, thrown, then shrugged and slid his journal across the table to the man.
'Office bugged,' Grand wrote, which Ed had sort of expected; his muteness very likely played all kinds of havoc on the military's monitoring efforts, which was one pro he hadn't considered at the time it had happened. 'You knew when Gloster ran. How?'
Ed considered him for a moment, debating; this was one of those moments he desperately wished he knew which side of the conspiracy Grand fell on, because Ed's qi-sense was one benefit they didn't want to give the homunculi too much warning about. (Not that they could do anything about it, but best they don't start wondering if that was how Ed was always able to avoid their tails.)
'You don't trust me,' Grand wrote, and there was no surprise in his qi or face, but there was a faint whisper of what might have been regret in the former.
'I don't,' Ed wrote back, because he deserved that much.
'You're afraid I'll find out you attempted human transmutation.'
Ed snorted. 'Please,' he mouthed, before leaning forward to write, 'No way I was the 1st arrogant fuck to try that + sell my soul to military. I'm sure you have records that any1 doesn't use external arrays broke taboo'
'I could have you arrested for that,' Grand wrote back, his gaze piercing, but humour in his qi.
Ed smiled at him. 'I'm useful in military's pocket + we both know it'
Grand's qi flared with amusement, his expression unchanging. 'Then why do you distrust me?'
Ed considered those words, head tilted slightly to the side, before he wrote back, 'I don't trust ppl whose demons I don't know'
"Demons?" Grand repeated out loud, his confusion actually showing on his face, for once.
Ed smiled at him, a little too sharp.
Grand frowned and wrote, 'And what are your demons? Or is that a secret, too?'
Ed shrugged. 'My demons are a white world where sits a stone door + a pale shade who mocks me with my own voice while my brother screams for me to save him'
Grand let out a sharp breath at that last, shock, and then pity rolling through his qi.
Ed took his journal back and slipped it away as he stood, then bowed and turned to leave.
"Silent," Grand called, and Ed stopped with his hand on the door handle, not looking back. "You ask a lot."
Ed snorted and left; he knew exactly how much he asked, but he had the lives of fifty million people resting on his shoulders, with those who were the most important to him already lined up before the firing squad.
Not even Ed's sins were worth that.
Edward,
That is some rather good news. And Havoc was already aware we were expecting to be moved to Central City within the next few months--what tragedy were you hoping to avoid on his behalf?
My face is perfect, is it? Can I quote you on that?
I'm fairly certain I can take other people out as well, to disguise the date. Or we can do dinner in. I'll manage the setting, you get the (greasy) food?
Roy
Ed was seriously going to punch the bastard. Right as soon as he stopped being embarrassed at his own slip.
Also, date. Fuck off, hormones.
"Is there a reason," Hughes asked on Monday night, "that Roy is asking me to make reservations at your favourite restaurant for this Sunday, Ed?"
Ed dropped his fork. Wait...what?
Gracia frowned and glanced toward Ed. "Isn't that your birthday?"
Elicia and Nina both perked up. "Big Brother Ed's birthday is soon?" Nina asked, clearly delighted.
Hughes gave a slow nod. "Right, right. But I'm not quite sure why he specified I make the reservation for seven people."
Nina, adorably, scrunched up her face and slowly mouthed numbers as she pointed at each of them.
:Transfer order?: Ed managed to sign, his heart climbing his throat, for some inexplicable reason.
"But there's only five," Nina reported, confused.
"I think," Gracia offered, "that your Uncle Roy is coming for a visit. And he's bringing Al, your other big brother."
Elicia let out a gleeful squeal, while Nina went back to looking delighted. "When?!" she demanded, squirming in her seat. "When, when, when, wh–?"
"Nina," Gracia interrupted with a smile.
"Uncle Roy didn't specify, but definitely by Sunday," Hughes offered.
"But that's forever!"
Hughes tapped his chin, expression thoughtful. "I dunno. Seems like just about enough time for you two to clean your room. Properly."
Cue much whining.
"Ed?" Gracia whispered, leaning over so she could be heard over Hughes' loud comments about cleaning everything and the girls' whining. "Are you okay?"
:I'm going to punch him in the face,: Ed signed, almost signing 'kiss' instead of 'punch'. That would have been a stupid mistake. Or an honest one. Which, when you lived with Maes Hughes, were pretty much the same thing.
Gracia smiled at him. "Maes, or Roy?"
:BOTH.:
Gracia's smile widened and she glanced back at the loud debate. "Act fast; I think you can incite them to rebellion."
Ed couldn't quite stop a laugh.
Hughes somehow got hold of the official transfer orders on Tuesday, and he passed them to Ed when he got back from lunch, looking so fucking pleased.
Mustang and Al and the whole team would be starting in Central on Monday, and would be taking Gloster's emptied office, serving under Clemin.
Ed passed the orders back and signed, :Glad I'm not in their office right now. Mad house.:
Hughes' expression did that thing where it couldn't decide between amused-as-fuck and more than a little horrified. "Seconded," he announced, before his eyes took on a speculative gleam and his face settled on something decidedly mischievous. "I should ring him and see if he'll tell me which train they're on."
:And that is my cue to go translate shit. If he crisps you, don't come crying to me.:
"Cruel!" Hughes called after him as Ed made his escape.
On Friday, Hughes was waiting for him when he got out of his slightly strained meeting with Grand, and Ed raised his eyebrows at him. "We have a train to wait for," Hughes told him, grinning like a stupid kid.
Ed blinked. :They're getting in today?: he asked, something that might have been excitement bubbling to life in his stomach. (No, wait, it was totally excitement. He was about to see Al again!)
"The train is due to arrive in an hour. Come on," Hughes ordered, catching Ed's wrist and dragging him out of Grand's outer office.
The crazy idiot did eventually calm down and let go of Ed – before Ed resorted to hitting him, damn – falling even with him to sign, :Al rang me about two hours ago. Apparently, Roy finally let it slip that he hadn't told us when they were due.:
:Bastard probably wanted to surprise us,: Ed signed back, rolling his eyes. :Joke's on him; I take an early day on Fridays.: Because taking his homunculus tail of the day on a tour of the city never quite got old, especially since he still made certain to lose them every other week, so he could go check the abandoned house for signs of Scar.
:Well, now WE can surprise HIM.:
:Al will have told him he rang.:
:Stop ruining my moment.:
Ed rolled his eyes.
Hughes took them down to carpool, where he checked to see if cars had been requested at the station, and neither of them were surprised to discover they hadn't; likely, this was another measure to keep Hughes from finding out when they were arriving, because Mustang was a moron. Hughes requested two drivers with cars and took a car for himself and Ed, then they all made for the station.
With the detour to get the cars, they didn't have much time to wait before the train arrived, and sensing Al's qi again, after months without it, was like coming home.
He led Hughes unerringly to the correct train door, and grinned widely when Al rushed out almost before the train stopped, jumping at Ed with a happy shout of, "Brother!"
Ed caught him in a tight hug, was grateful that Al's return grip was just as tight.
"That," he heard Hughes say, "was just eerie. Adorable, but eerie. Hey, Colonel Mustang, I think I found something even more freakish than your special show."
"Thank you for that, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," Mustang replied drily. "I always appreciate your particular brand of disregard."
Someone – it sounded like Havoc – coughed a laugh.
Ed finally got himself to let go of Al and look past him at where Mustang stood, while Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery unloaded a small pile of personal belongings and file boxes from their train car. As though he sensed Ed's eyes on him, Mustang turned towards him, his gaze entirely too warm, and said, "Hello, Edward."
:Nice try keeping us in the dark, Bastard,: Ed replied. :Pity you suck.:
Al sighed, while Havoc and Breda both broke out into loud laughter; clearly, Mustang's team had received a crash course in sign language since the last time Ed saw them.
Mustang just offered him an amused smile and said, "I forgot how refreshing your unapologetic insubordination is."
:I can remind you with a punch to the face?:
Al caught his arm in a steel grip, clearly determined to keep Ed from actually punching the bastard.
"We're keeping him," Havoc declared, before stepping forward and holding out a hand. "Ed, right?"
Ed nodded and accepted the offered hand for a shake, taking a turn greeting all of Mustang's men again.
Hawkeye cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, I hope you had time to request transport, since someone apparently forgot."
Mustang sighed, while Hughes snorted and agreed, "There are cars waiting out by the kerb. We might have to take a couple trips, though; I wasn't expecting quite so much stuff."
"Oh, we can rig up a trailer or something," Al offered, glancing over at Ed. "Right?"
Ed shrugged. :Sure. Give us a couple minutes to find a patch of ground no one will miss.:
"It worries me when he says things like that," Hughes admitted, while Ed turned and started leading his brother from the station. "Don't do anything illegal!"
Ed laughed, heard Al laughing just behind him, loud enough for both of them, and remembered why he loved his brother.
Once they were out of the station crush and looking for a suitable plot of land, Al fell in next to him and asked, in Xingan, "So, how long until you move in with him?"
:With whom?:
Al let out a very loud, very obvious sigh.
Ed clenched his jaw and turned on his brother as he realised what he meant. :Would you STOP? I get enough of this meddling shit from Hughes!:
Al smiled. "Equivalent exchange, Brother. You did this to me for almost two years."
Ed moaned and covered his face; he should have known Al would hold that payback in reserve until he found a romantic prospect for Ed.
Al patted his shoulder. "Come on. Let's put this together so I can get to plotting with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes in private."
:I didn't raise you right,: Ed complained.
"You raised me perfectly. Come on."
Ed huffed, but returned to the task of finding materials, then transmuting a trailer that should be large enough for everything, which they pulled back to the cars together and helped load it up.
"Well, we're to the dorms," Havoc said once they'd loaded the last box and Al had secured the trailer against bumps in the road. "I expect Al's going to stay with you?" he asked Ed.
Ed nodded. :We can stretch the mattress.:
"No," Al returned, grimacing. "I've done the stretched mattress. That is so insanely uncomfortable."
Ed snorted. :I have extra materials.:
"Why doesn't that comfort me?" Al complained, and Havoc laughed before clapping him on the shoulder.
"I'll see you in the office on Monday, Al."
"Yeah, see you, Jean," Al returned, letting himself be led up to the front car by Ed, where Mustang and Hughes were waiting. "Brother says I can share his room," he told the two, "at least until we get sick of each other and one of us moves out."
:That will be the day,: Ed signed, because he seriously doubted he could ever grow 'sick' of Al. Annoyed enough to shove him out of the bed, maybe, or move down to the couch for a couple nights, but not 'moving out'.
:Moves in with someone else, then,: Al corrected.
Ed took a swing at him, which Al ducked with a laugh.
Hughes clapped Mustang on the shoulder and murmured something that had Mustang's qi flaring with embarrassed irritation and him growling, "Maes."
Hughes grinned at him, then clapped his hands together and announced, "I know of two darling little girls who have been very good about keeping their room clean in hopes that their uncle and second big brother would come pay them a visit."
Ed snorted. :They were bribed with ice cream.:
Hughes shot him a scowl that was so very obviously false. "Don't give away my secrets."
"Some of us already knew bribes were your weapon of choice, followed closely by blackmail," Mustang said drily.
Al glanced at Ed. "Books?"
Ed offered a helpless smile. :I'll have to take you past the bookshop some time soon.:
"And First Branch," Al insisted as they finally climbed into the car, Mustang pushing the brothers a bit, while Hughes laughed uselessly next to the driver's door. "You promised me a week-long tour years ago, and I am absolutely cashing in."
:Avoiding the office unpacking?: Ed suggested.
"Possibly," Al admitted.
"Perhaps I should drive," Mustang said as Hughes started laughing again.
"I'm good," Hughes insisted, closing his door and slipping his keys in the ignition. "Sadly, Ed can't really vanish into the libraries for a whole week, but he can probably take you through the labs."
:NOT THREE,: Ed signed before Al could open his mouth.
Al's mouth pressed into a thin line. :You can't protect me from them forever, Ed.:
:Yes, I fucking CAN.:
:And what about if I come across one on accident? What if I come across MORE than one? I should be prepared–:
Ed smacked his hands. :You can't fucking prepare for that! I go in there every week and I still leave sick to my stomach!:
:Better I know what they feel like!:
:I said NO.:
Mustang leant back over the seat back and caught Ed and Al's nearer wrists. "Explain what's going on," he ordered quietly, then let them go.
"The chimera labs," Al said when Ed just crossed his arms over his chest.
When Al didn't continue, Mustang glanced at Ed. "I know you've said you don't like them."
"Technically, he said they 'suck'," Hughes offered with false cheer, his qi a wave of concern.
Mustang's own qi was laced with concern, too, but he was holding it in a stiff pillar of forced calm, which Ed kind of...needed, right then, and he took a deep breath, forced himself to settle.
Al's eyes darted from Ed to Mustang and then back to Ed, before raising one eyebrow.
Ed shot him a scowl, then turned back to Mustang and admitted, :One of the things we can sense is emotions, to an extent. Human and animal. And we can't turn it off.:
Realisation streaked through Mustang's qi, his eyes going wide. "Emotions?" he repeated, before a second realisation went through his qi. "A chimera lab," he breathed, before closing his eyes. "They must be miserable."
:Miserable. That's a pretty word,: Ed signed, before casting his brother a glare.
Al scowled back. "You can't protect me forever, Edward," he pointed out flatly.
Like Ed really needed to be reminded of that.
"Let's save this debate for tonight," Hughes suggested, his voice tight.
Ed glanced up and realised they were almost home. :Fine,: he signed, slumping back in his seat.
Al sighed and sort of fell over sideways, until he was resting his head on Ed's shoulder. "I love you, you overprotective dummy."
Ed huffed. :I love you and your stupid face, too,: he returned.
"Your face is stupider."
:Yes, it is.:
Al snorted and straightened, amusement in his qi. "You're impossible."
They piled out in front of the house, Ed grabbing Al's bags before he could, while Hughes snatched up Mustang's, ignoring his glare and taking the lead up the walk.
Almost as soon as he had the door open, Hughes called, "I found a couple strays at the station!" And then he ducked to one side of the hall, leaving the way clear for Mustang and Al, while Ed brought up the rear.
As the two newcomers were tackled with stupidly excited girls, Ed shared a knowing grin with Hughes – that may have been planned – and closed the door.
Gracia eventually came to redirect Nina and Elicia with the offer of, "I suppose we can have pie now, but only if everyone's sitting at the table by the time I get back to the dining room."
"Pie!" Elicia called, tugging on Al's uniform jacket from where he was holding her. "Big brother, pie. Hafta go."
"Yeah, come on!" Nina added, tugging very determinedly on Mustang's hand. "If we don't go, Mama's gonna make us wait 'til after dinner."
"That," Mustang said with all due seriousness, as he let himself be led down the hall, "would be a real tragedy."
Hughes and Ed shared a laugh at Mustang and Al's expense, made sure their bags were carefully out of the way, then went to join everyone, while Gracia brought up the rear.
Nina and Elicia might not realise it – and not a one of the adults or Al was going to tell them otherwise – but pie before dinner had been the plan all along.
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no subject
Date: 11/4/16 08:14 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11/4/16 17:14 (UTC)no subject
Date: 12/4/16 06:50 (UTC)no subject
Date: 12/4/16 23:22 (UTC)Grand mentioning know Ed had attempted human transmutation was sort of like he was saying 'I haven't arrested you yet', and Ed was just like, 'that's nice, but it's not up to you'. Sort of?
(I don't know how much sense that made; I got hit in the face with a cold. >.> )
no subject
Date: 14/4/16 07:55 (UTC)