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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 covers the period of 18 August - 13 September 1914.
Siri-Catriona did fanart of Ed using the Stones in the first chapter~! Can be found here at her tumblr! :D
Moment of honesty: I never intended for there to be a question about Grand's loyalty to Bradley's faction. And then I reread that Ishval scene of him from the manga, and my muse and Ed were both like 'He's cool! Is there potential for him to maybe be a good guy?' (Fucking arseholes.) Which resulted in everything since the Scar incident. (Whatever chapter that was.)
You lot ready to figure out where Grand stands? (At last. XD)
Chapter Twenty-Four
-0-
Ed did, indeed, keep his head down that week, as much as he was capable. He even made it one of his Fridays where he didn't bother trying to lose Envy, instead taking him on a tour of the part of the city where Roy's Cretan restaurant was.
Since Roy was on another date – it did seem to be the best day, since Ed couldn't always promise when he'd be home, and then it didn't cut in to any weekend plans with the Hugheses – he ended up getting dinner there. And, once the staff got past their (not uncommon) initial response to finding themselves with a customer who couldn't speak, it ended up being an awesome visit, everyone very friendly. And it was a little nice to actually hear conversation in Cretan, rather than just reading it all the time, or those brief moments when Roy spoke it, when he wanted to keep something just between the two of them.
On Wednesday, the next week, he passed a note to Armstrong to pass on to Zouheir, which essentially said he would try to make it out to the hideout on Friday, but he would be a little later than usual, to ensure there would be no more surprise homunculi visits.
They were in luck: Envy was as easy to lose as ever, and cooling his heels at the edge of the city for an hour turned up no signs of further attempts to follow him. So he made his way out to the hideout and they managed to finish the interrupted meeting from two weeks before. Ed – via Zouheir – gave all of them the full truth behind the Dwarf in the Flask and the homunculi. He didn't explicitly state that the other survivor of Xerxes was his father, but he did say they could expect his assistance, which seemed to neither comfort nor concern the Ishvalans.
When he laid out their current plans of attack and distraction, all four of the leaders asked how best they and their people could help. Because, it turned out, there were far more Ishvalans in or nearby Central City than Ed had really expected, a lot of them settling in various slums, rather than increasing their presence on the Armstrong estate. Given, he hadn't paid much attention to the numbers that had gathered, before, but this seemed like so many more. Enough to do more than just accompany Scar underground and place the outer markers of the array.
"Whether we are of Amestris or not," Sabir, the eastern leader, said, "it has become our home. Where, once, your people were made to meet us with hatred, we have begun to find kindness, and to return that with cold shoulders, would make us no better than those who first divided us."
"The people of Ishval do not turn from conflict," Laith, the southern leader, added. "You have shown us the monsters that wait in the shadows; let us now carry forth the torch of our future together."
Ed looked around the room, at their firm expressions, sensing their determined qi. Even Scar, it seemed, was determined to find a way to see his people fight for the future of Amestris, no hint of revenge in his qi.
He closed his eyes, forced himself to take a deep breath, then turned to Zouheir and signed, for him to translate, :Your offer of assistance is a welcome one, but we have to plan this with care, or I'm worried your people will end up targeted again.:
"Do not engage the Amestrisan soldiers," Barika, the western leader, assumed.
Emran, the northern leader, scoffed.
Ed shook his head. :Don't shoot first,: he signed in response, and the dry tone Zouheir spoke that in won some slightly strained smiles, while easing some of the building tension. :If we give each group of your people an Amestrisan soldier to lead them, to make the choices of when to shoot back and when to retreat, will they obey them?:
The four leaders traded vaguely troubled looks.
"Those who will not," Scar spoke up, anger edging his voice, even though his qi was as calm as it ever seemed to get, "will come speak with me."
Sabir turned towards him – away from Ed, so he couldn't see the man's expression – and Scar's qi seemed to shrink a bit. "And what will that accomplish? Violence does not win compliance."
Scar scowled, his qi taking on a certain chastised note.
So, apparently, Scar had some sort of history with Sabir. A parent or mentor of some form, Ed suspected. That was...actually not all that useful, admittedly, but certainly interesting.
Barika turned to Ed. "Should it prove necessary," she decided, "respected members of the community can be given watch over those who would act against the orders of your people. They will see to it that such difficulties are mitigated."
Ed nodded; that was pretty much the best any of them could hope for. They did have a couple of officers, like Hawkeye, who had a very 'take no shit' air, which might well help a bit, if they could partner everyone up properly, but that would have to wait until they'd picked out who the potential troublemakers were.
"Where would our people serve the greatest good, in your plans?" Laith asked, and they got down to sorting that out.
Somehow, he managed to make it back to the city in plenty of time to drop by the Hugheses' and reassure them all that he was fine, pick up something quick to eat, and make it home just before Roy.
He couldn't even pretend to be surprised when Roy cared more about undressing him to "ensure you're not hiding any wounds on me" than what Ed'd sorted out with the Ishvalans.
On Thursday evening, on his way home, Ed sensed someone watching him when he was across from Madam Christmas again. He was on the pavement, for once, so there was no sense of alarm, but whoever it was was extremely intent on him.
He slowed a bit and glanced over, tracing the intent qi back to a woman standing next to the door Helen had directed him to use the last time. The woman looked only vaguely familiar – he'd probably seen her during that one dinner – and she quirked an eyebrow at him, then motioned him forward with one hand, using the other to stub out her cigarette against the brick wall.
Frowning a bit, Ed crossed the street.
"Helen wasn't fibbin', 'bout you knowing when people are watching you," the woman said with a flirtatious smile. Her qi, though, said she was a little bit intrigued, but far more cautious. Not about Ed, necessarily, but...something.
Ed just sighed and motioned up the street, hoping she understood that he had places to be.
Her smile widened, lost some of the flirty edge, and she flicked her dead cigarette behind him somewhere. "You young sort have no patience, and no appreciation for pretty women."
Ed rolled his eyes.
She wiggled a finger at him and tutted. "Rude. I should introduce you to one of my newer gents. Grand old fellow. Bad taste in moustaches, and he has such a serious face, but he does know how to treat a lady nice."
That stressed 'grand', the comment about moustaches, and a 'serious face'... Ed would bet good money this was the woman Madam Christmas had set on Grand.
She sighed and looked a bit forlorn. "I don't suppose you're really old enough to appreciate a proper wine-and-dine, are you? More's the pity; you look like the sort who could use some nice, clean fun. No ulterior motives, just exactly what it looks like on the tin."
Ed couldn't quite keep from quirking a smile, and he covered it with a snort and another eye roll.
But the gleam in her eyes – and the light dusting of victory in her qi – said she'd caught his slip.
And then the door next to them opened and another vaguely familiar woman poked her head out. "There you are, Vanessa! Stop trying to hit on men in uniform and do your chores!" Then she turned to Ed with a practiced smile, which faltered when she got a good look at him, as though only just realising how young he was, even though her qi wasn't even a little surprised.
The woman who had been speaking to him – Vanessa, apparently – pressed something into Ed's hand as she brushed past him on her way to squeeze through the doorway and, by the movement of her rather amused qi, moved quickly out of reach.
The woman who'd interrupted the conversation was taking on a distinctly furious appearance, even as her qi remained more amused than anything else, and she got out a strained, "Sorry about her, sir," before ducking back into the building and shouting, "Vanessa!" loud enough that she could be heard through the door as it closed.
Snorting to himself – that had clearly been a practised show to keep anyone who might be watching from thinking anything particular of their conversation – Ed continued on his way home, waiting a block before opening the folded paper he found in his hand. It was a more thorough report on Grand, detailing instances that had led their spy – either Vanessa or someone else; in retrospect, it was possible she'd only delivered the message because it wasn't uncommon to see her standing outside and flirting with passing men in uniform – to deciding Grand wasn't part of the conspiracy, some of which had apparently involved going through papers in his home while he was sleeping.
Which was awesome, sort of, and now he needed to find a way to approach the topic with Grand. Preferably in such a way that he could back out if it turned out they'd all read him wrong.
Also, he needed to decide if he was going to tell Roy before or after he put his safety on the line.
:So,: he signed to Al over their lunch, :Roy had his contacts look into Grand a bit.:
Al frowned. :It's all civilian women, right? How much were they expecting to get out of him?:
Ed had to spit out his mouthful, because choking fucking sucked when you didn't have vocal cords, he knew from bitter experience.
Al grimaced, familiar with that particular bad habit of Ed's. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Brother."
Ed gave his best cough, to ensure nothing had slipped into his windpipe anyway, then signed. :Let's just say they have their ways of getting information, and you'll understand when you're older.:
Al moaned a bit and rubbed at his face, before returning to splitting his attention between his food and Ed.
Ed shook his head, chanced another bite, then signed, :They say he looks clean.:
Al took a sip of water, his qi a tightly coiled knot of uneasy suspicion. :What are you planning?: he signed once he'd set his glass back down.
:I drew the array in my journal. I need a reason to open it.:
Al grimaced and nodded. :I'll see what I can do about having a coughing fit.:
Ed flashed him a smile. :Thanks.:
Al sighed and shook his head, returning his focus to his food. "I hope we don't regret this."
Ed kind of hoped so, too.
As promised, at one point when Al was translating an answer for Ed, he started coughing, for no discernible reason that Ed could see, but it sounded and looked so realistic, Ed was afraid he'd actually found a way to close his windpipe on command or some shit.
Grand hurried out to the front office, while Ed slipped off his chair and gave his brother a worried look, which only deepened when he caught sight of tears at the corners of his eyes. But then Al moved one of his hands from his mouth and squeezed Ed's hand, his qi a little strained, but brushing against Ed's qi in that way he sometimes did when Ed was freaking out 'needlessly' about something.
Grand returned with a cup of water, and he handed it down to Al with a stern look. "Slow sips, Mending."
"Sorry, sir," Al whispered, sounding a little raspy.
Grand narrowed his eyes and shot a pointed look at the cup, then looked back up at Al's face.
Al took the hint and started sipping the water, a definite note of amusement in his qi.
Grand sat back down and turned to Ed, resignation and a bit of that sort of uncertain distance that had become common in his qi, even while his expression remained flat and uninterested. "I assume you have your journal, Silent?" he asked drily.
Ed nodded and pulled it out. He'd slipped his pen inside, marking the page with the nationwide array, and he flipped it open to that, purposefully fumbling the pen and barely managing to grab it before it tumbled off the table.
A sort of guilty interest sparked through Grand's qi, clearly focussed on the open pages of Ed's journal, but no recognition.
Ed signed a quick, :OK,: with his left hand as he flipped to a blank page, and knew from the rush of relief through Al's qi that he'd seen it.
They finished the meeting without any further excitement, Al taking back over translating for Ed once he'd finished the water. When Grand nodded and started collecting the scattered pages of their report, like he usually did when he was getting ready to dismiss them, however, Ed flipped his journal open and wrote, '1st time you talked to me about dodging guards'
Grand stared at the words, his qi tensing and filling with uncertainty. "What of it?" he asked coolly.
'Do you leave any upstairs windows unlocked'
Grand looked up and met his eyes, clearly debating how to respond to that.
Ed held his stare, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.
And then, quietly, Grand said, "Above the back door."
Ed couldn't quite stop a smile at that, and he ducked his head to write, 'Sat 1300 -- Sun 1300?'
Grand didn't take long to point to Saturday.
Ed nodded, then closed his journal and slipped it away.
Grand was silent for a moment, his qi twisting with suspicion and what seemed like a thousand questions. But, too, there was a hint of relief, muted enough that Ed almost missed it, and he wondered if he wasn't the only one sick of the strained edge to their interactions for the past two months. Grand finally cleared his throat and loudly tapped the papers against the table top. "Dismissed, boys," he said blandly, no real change from how he usually dismissed them, since Al had started sitting with them.
"Yes, sir," Al said for them both as they stood, then they gave short bows and left the office. Out in the hallway, Al murmured, "I really hope you don't regret this."
Ed rather hoped so himself, but he flashed Al one of his more assured grins, clapped him on the shoulder, then left to take Envy on a tour of the city.
Saturday afternoon, after ducking out of lunch at the Hugheses', Ed made his way over to Grand's house via a bit of roof-hopping. None of the others came with, but Al was within range for an 'oh shit' message sent with alkahestry, and Roy was over, so it wasn't like he was visiting without any backup. His backup was just...four blocks away. And probably failing miserably at not worrying.
But, well, he was the one who knew Grand best, and Al was still having trouble getting a proper read on him, so Ed had to be the one to go. And saying he'd use the window, rather than the front door, while intended more to keep anyone from noting the visit, also served to make it very hard for anyone to actually come with him. Which he knew pissed Roy and Hughes off, but Al seemed to have either resigned himself to Ed's habit of walking knowingly into danger, or he'd managed to get just enough of a read on Grand, while he'd been sipping that water, to trust that Ed and Madam Christmas' woman were right about him.
Ed huffed to himself a bit as he stepped over onto Grand's roof. He paused there for a moment, ensuring the brigadier general was the only one home – he was, and seemed to be waiting upstairs, his qi a tightly wound mess of forced calm, laced with a sort of nervous anticipation – then stepped over to the back edge of the roof and checked where the window over the back door was. It seemed to be the one closest to where Grand was standing – Ed couldn't even pretend to be surprised – so Ed took a moment to test the edge of the roof over that spot, decided it should hold his weight, then twisted and carefully lowered himself over the edge.
From inside, Grand's qi sparked with surprise, before easing out into a sort of helpless disbelief. And then he moved forward and opened the window, quietly ordering, "Get in here before you break your neck, boy."
Ed rolled his eyes, resigned to how most people responded to his more madcap acrobatics, and swung himself forward enough to plant his feet on the windowsill. There was a thin decorative frieze around the top edge of the house, under the lip of the roof, which didn't really seem to have any purpose, but made a perfect handhold for Ed to transfer his grip to while he got a bit better balanced on the windowsill. Once he was good, he crouched down, using the outside of the window frame to help keep his balance, until he was low enough to slip in through the window.
Grand had, thankfully, got well out of his way, his arms folded tightly over his chest and his expression and qi equally tense. Once Ed was inside, he said, voice flat, "There had best be a good reason you couldn't use the front door, Silent."
Ed sighed and gave a grim nod, then pulled out the folded sheets of paper he and Roy had spent a couple hours the night before arguing about the wording of, and held them out. He'd written on the front, 'This is me trusting you'
Grand's qi filled with nearly equal parts trepidation and suspicion, but again with that whisper of relief, and his moustache quivered slightly before he said, "Come downstairs," then turned and led the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. There, with some admirable restraint, he left the papers on the two-person breakfast table that was shoved up against one wall and looked to have only recently been cleaned off. "Sit," he ordered, as he set about pulling down two glasses and filling them with water, then bringing them back to the table.
Ed inclined his head in thanks as he accepted his, then settled in to watch Grand read the letter.
Odd as it might seem, once Roy had given in about trusting Grand, he'd done so whole-heartedly, and it had been up to Ed to put his foot down regarding how much they were going to tell him. In the end, they'd settled on filling him in on the obvious stuff – the Dwarf in the Flask, the homunculi, the array, the corruption of the brass, and that he was likely a sacrifice candidate – the bare bones basics of what they were intending to do about it, their main allies – Roy and his team, Hughes and his team, Hohenheim, Grumman, and the Ishvalans, including the infamous Scar – and, the point of the most contention: how they knew about everything.
Ed hadn't really wanted anyone else knowing about his memories, but Roy had made a good point about Grand being more likely to accept everything if he knew how they'd found out, just like how Ed never would have been able to win Scar over as quickly if he hadn't told him up front that he'd lived through this whole mess once. But, unlike when he'd told both Roy and Scar, he didn't have any way to prove those memories, because he hadn't known Grand, before. Roy had, of course, just shrugged that point off and said, "I'm sure you'll just be filling in some blanks for him," because he was kind of a useless bastard, sometimes.
Thankfully, Roy had let him win the argument about keeping the full extent of his and Al's alchemy secret, as well as their qi-sensing, agreeing that those abilities were best kept as little-known as possible. He'd also elected to keep his aspirations toward the Führership and his intelligence network a secret, and Ed hadn't been surprised by either choice.
Grand's qi seemed to cycle through horror, fury, disgust, and grief for most of the letter, unsurprisingly, which served as continued proof that he'd really had no idea what the other brass had been up to under his nose. Ed was fairly certain he knew when the man reached the part about Scar being one of their allies, because he'd flexed his left hand, his qi lacing with more regret than anger, and Ed wouldn't have been surprised to discover that he, like so many other Ishval veterans, believed that dying at the hand of an Ishvalan would only have been just.
On the last page, where Ed had written out the truth behind his knowledge, Grand's qi very briefly filled with surprise, before it smoothed out into understanding, and Ed frowned into his cup as he sipped at his water.
Grand sat the pages down and quietly asked, "Why trust me now?"
Ed sighed and set down his glass. He'd already pulled out his journal, expecting he'd have to answer a dozen or so questions, so he only had to pick up his pen and lean forward a bit to write, 'I'd been debating for a while. There are diffs btwn you + other brass but I wasn't sure I was reading right. Roy + Al both agreed with my assess so we tried test. You didn't know array'
Grand let out a snort at that, a sort of helplessly amused disbelief curling through his qi. "Yesterday. Of course. You're usually so careful about opening to a blank page."
Ed snorted himself. '+ don't draw arrays in here'
That earned him a flicker of wry amusement, and Grand taking a sip of his water. As he set down his glass, however, his qi took a dark turn, his expression turning noticeably grim. "You realise this plan is going to completely destabilise our government."
'If we don't act we won't have a country left by summer,' Ed wrote, shooting Grand a flat look as he read that.
"Given, but that's not what I meant. You're talking about arresting every general currently stationed in Central, except myself. As soon as the word gets out, every general who wasn't involved is going to come running to battle for that chair."
Ed tilted his head to the side, intrigued, then glanced down to write, 'You won't take it?'
Grand snorted, dark humour threading through his qi. "You're asking me that because I was never given the option?"
Ed shrugged. 'You didn't survive Scar originally'
Grand didn't even seem a little bit surprised by that, and he let out a quiet hum as he sat back in his chair a bit, flexing his left hand again. He was quiet for a long moment, watching Ed, who couldn't quite keep his eyes from narrowing, uncomfortable. At last, Grand said, "I am a soldier, as I believe you are."
Ed let out a harsh snort and shook his head; he was no soldier.
Grand was silent for another beat, then said, "A fighter, then. We have the same preference to solve conflict with a fist, not negotiation."
That...was true. Ed would like to think he'd learnt to be a bit more willing to sit down and talk things out as he got older, but it was hard to forget how often Al had held him back when they were hunting rogue alchemists together, before, and his muteness, now, made extended conversation...difficult.
Grand inclined his head. "I think you will understand, then, when I say the Amestrisan people will not want me taking the Führership, not after they have just been told their leaders were creating conflicts for the sole purpose of designing an array meant to kill everyone within our borders."
...shit. Ed hadn't even thought about that. Did Roy realise he was going to end up taking that entire fucking mess onto his own shoulders?
Of course he did, he'd always known: Roy thought turning Amestris into a democracy and charging himself with war crimes was his penance for everything that had gone down in Ishval, and dealing with the scorn of their people as he tried to clean up the Dwarf in the Flask's mess was just an extension of the same. Which, well, Ed did understand that mentality, even if he really just wanted to smack the stupid bastard until he stopped being a self-sacrificing moron.
(Pot, meet kettle.)
Really, there wasn't anyone in the military leadership who didn't have a history of war – under Bradley, you didn't get promoted without spilling blood – and Ed wished he'd paid more attention, before, to how Grumman had handled the change-over. What he'd done right, and what had resulted in the worst backlash. Lab four, he knew, had not been received well, but that was the only shitstorm he'd remembered hearing about down in Resembool. Which didn't mean there hadn't been others, only that that was the one that he'd heard about. (On second thought, perhaps having Colourway setting off explosions there wasn't their best plan...)
"What we need is someone likeable. Someone who's known for more than just their military reputation," Grand continued, and there was an edge to his voice that made Ed's shoulders stiffen without really understanding why. "Which isn't to say that being known for their habit of dating every woman he meets is that great of an alternative, but at least it's something."
He knew.
Victory arced through Grand's qi. "Don't look so surprised, Silent," he said drily. "Did you think no one was going to make note of how quickly Mustang rose through the ranks? And he brought in you and your brother, two brilliant alchemists, with the intention to add you both to his team. You know Bradley separated you, but did you ever wonder why?"
Ed let out a snort that came out a little too harsh. 'He likes taking hostages for compliance'
Grand raised his eyebrows at that. "That is one possible reason. However, from a military standpoint, handing a rival two extremely talented and, by all appearances, young and impressionable alchemists, is a recipe for a coup d'état. By keeping one of you in Central, he had the chance to earn your loyalty."
Giving in to Ed's insistence that he and Al switch places, giving Ed responsibility over the labs, being so quick to switch out Envy when he'd threatened Ed and the Hugheses... Ed hadn't had a lot of interaction with Bradley – not really weird; he hadn't had any real interactions with any of the homunculi, before, until they'd started snooping – but all of them had ended with Ed, essentially, getting what he wanted. (Or, in the case of the labs, what a younger him would have enjoyed.) Bradley had been subtly trying to win Ed over – or, at least, away from Roy – the whole time, and Ed hadn't really noticed. Why would he? There was nothing Bradley could do to change Ed's loyalties.
Grand inclined his head. "Mustang makes some of the brass nervous, because there isn't much defence against his alchemy, and he's young and charismatic. He could well win over the majority of civilians and a large chunk of non-commissioned officers, despite his rather unfortunate history of stealing girlfriends. A lot of people would have been much happier if he'd stayed hidden away in East City, but Bradley signed through his transfer orders anyway." Grand let out a dark chuckle. "I guess now I know why."
Because the opportunity to bring one of their only two confirmed sacrifices to Central had presented itself, and Roy was more than strong enough to serve as a sacrifice candidate; two for the price of one. And the homunculi had always underestimated how much damage a group of desperate humans could do. Probably still did, even with Lust and Gluttony missing. They were trusting in their false immortality and too certain that they would know the moment someone started getting suspicious.
They had no idea that Ed and Al had known everything before they'd even stepped foot in Central for the first time, and they'd shared their knowledge with Roy and Hughes before becoming certified. Their plans were already in motion before Bradley had separated them; they were just waiting for the last couple of pieces to slot into place.
Still... '+ you?' Ed wrote. 'I've heard about your alchemy'
"Could I take Mustang in a fight?" Grand guessed. "Perhaps. Not if he makes the first move, however, and not if he has backup." And then he smiled. It was the first one Ed had ever seen from him, and it wasn't kind. "That's not what you're asking, though, is it?"
Ed narrowed his eyes.
"You want to know if I'll support Mustang when he makes his bid for the Führership, after Bradley's out of the way and everyone else in Central standing between him and that shiny office is dead or in chains." He leant forward, his eyes glinting with something distinctly dangerous, even as his qi almost seemed to...relax back. Amused. Completely unthreatening.
Was this an act?
"What will you do if I say no, Silent Alchemist?" Grand asked, malice in his voice. "Ensure I have an accident on the battlefield? It wouldn't be hard to arrange."
'Heard about that,' Ed wrote, unimpressed, because Hughes had told him about the time Grand had killed a ranking officer in Ishval. 'I don't kill people'
Grand let out a brief, harsh laugh. "Says the one raising a rebellion."
Ed just frowned at him, unmoved; he didn't kill people. (Homunculi, apparently, but not humans. And he hated that he had to make a distinction, but he wasn't so naïve as to believe they would be able to sufficiently contain and punish the homunculi, not like they could humans. And, besides, the Xerxesians suffering inside of them deserved the right to pass on; he couldn't condone letting one being survive, not when it meant hundreds or thousands of innocents were being made to suffer.)
Grand watched him for a long moment, continuing to exude malice, while his qi remained amused, and maybe a little...intrigued. "So," he said at last, "you don't care if I intend to sabotage Mustang's bid for the Führership?"
Ed shrugged, then wrote, 'Physically attack Roy + I will defend him but politics are his.' And then he flashed Grand his own unkind smile, when he looked back up, before adding. 'Or maybe I'll remind you you owe me'
Grand snorted and leant back in his chair, the air of malice vanishing, and his expression returning to the far more familiar stern mask. "Keep your favour, Silent," he said, a whisper of amusement audible in his voice. "I have no intention in starting a civil war over who inherits Bradley's seat. You're so determined to see him there; I assume he was the Führer in this future you have memories of?"
Ed gave a cautious nod.
"Did people approve of him?"
Ed frowned at that wording, but wrote, 'Opinion was mostly +'
Grand inclined his head, his qi suggesting he was very much unsurprised by that. (But, then, he had suggested that Roy could well win their people over with his stupid charm.) "Then I will support his bid."
Ed's breath caught, completely against his say-so. Because Grand could have been a formidable opponent – the only one actually in Central, unless Oliver Armstrong ended up coming down herself, like Buccaneer had apparently threatened during the training session Al had attended back in February – but he was sitting here, agreeing to not just let Roy have the spot, but argue for it, should there be a debate.
Officers – especially members of the brass – supporting a subordinate jumping to an even higher rank than themselves were unheard of. Or, they had been until Grumman took office, before, and promoted Mustang three ranks when he returned to Central from working on the Ishval reconstruction project. Most of the brass had been sore – that had made the papers – but a couple, including the then Lieutenant General Armstrong, had been openly supportive of the promotion. Ed had only learnt later, during the celebratory party when Grumman stepped down and named Mustang his successor, that all of those members of the brass who had supported his jump through the ranks had only done so in return for a favour.
Grand had just told Ed to keep his favour, so... 'What do you want in trade?' he wrote.
Approval and pleasure rolled through Grand's qi. "As I mentioned previously, you and I are alike: Sitting around in Central, doing paperwork, isn't something I ever wanted to be stuck doing, but someone needed to keep an eye on the alchemy labs and be around for State Alchemists to report to if there was a problem. If Mustang is in Central, that all falls to him, or to you and Mending."
Ed, at least. As long as he and Roy were together and the stupid bastard was trying to get a handle on their country, Ed was going to stay in Central, and he very much doubted Roy would fire him just because he was mute, which meant he was sticking with the military. Al might leave – Ed honestly didn't know what his brother wanted to do once this was over, was too afraid to ask and find out Al actually liked the military – but Ed was plenty capable of handling the labs on his own. (And, with Roy calling the shots, they could get rid of the chimera research and perform some much-needed changes to all the labs' warfare focus.)
Still, he got what Grand was saying, and a part of him fully understood the need to get out from under Central Command's paperwork piles and just travel. Or, more likely in Grand's case, head to one of the war fronts and get the chance to exercise his right to kill their enemies. (Enemies who weren't, actually, Amestrisan citizens, this time.) 'Peace treaties are going to happen,' he wrote.
"Peace doesn't happen overnight," Grand returned flatly. "Surely you're aware of that."
Ed grimaced and nodded, because there'd still been plenty of fighting breaking out along their borders, before, despite the treaties that, first Grumman, and then Mustang and parliament, had worked to get on the table. The only nation that hadn't been exchanging fire over their borders while their leaders sat peace talks, had been Xing, and that was as much because of the Great Desert and the fact that their people hadn't been at war, as it had been Ling declaring Xing and Amestris friends almost as soon as he'd taken the throne.
Sighing a bit, Ed wrote, 'You might have to wait a yr but I'm sure he'll agree.' Because Grand's support was too great a gift to just refuse, and Ed didn't doubt that he could do a lot of damage at whatever battlefield he got sent out to.
Grand grunted. "Yes, I expect Mustang will want what allies he has standing as a buffer between him and his opponents."
That was true enough. Between the wide nets Roy and Hugheses' intelligence networks cast and Roy's team, they should be able to shut down anyone who tried to step in and play challenger before they became a serious threat, but if Grand stayed around as a continued show of support, that should scare off a number of idiots. After all, very few people would want to face off against two of the most deadly State Alchemists.
Grand took a sip of his water, his qi turning a bit more thoughtful. As he set his glass back on the table, he said, "I hope you have more of a plan than 'taunt the homunculi until they come out to get shot'." Then he tapped the note, which had about that much description of their plans.
Ed flashed him one of his sharper smiles and wrote, 'We have multiple plans. Some distractions + some call-outs + some rd paving'
"Road paving?" Grand repeated, a hint of amused disbelief in his qi.
Ed shrugged. 'Something we did before. We'll have meeting once Ho shows up make sure every1 knows what to do'
Grand nodded. "Sensible." He gave Ed a considering look. "Do you have a plan in place for the other brass? They're likely to run for it once the fighting starts."
Well, they'd sat still last time, but they'd been desperate to be in the centre of the array when it went off. And, too, they'd thought Central Command was some sort of impenetrable fortress, but Ed expected they wouldn't know the coup was starting, this time, until everyone was already on the parade grounds, well past that sturdy wall they were all so trusting of.
He took a moment to think back over the plans they had so far, grimacing when he realised, no, they didn't have any ideas in place for the brass. They'd been so focussed on the homunculi and keeping the majority of the soldiers from focussing on the Ishvalan teams and Gracia's part, they hadn't even considered the chance of the pathetic fucks waiting for immortality running for it.
Grand inclined his head, clearly reading Ed's expression. "Then I will make plans to deal with that." He glanced off to one side for a moment, toward one of the kitchen cabinets, before saying, "With proper planning, we may be able to catch them all in one room."
That was...genius. 'When we have every1 we'll plan around a meeting,' Ed wrote.
Grand's qi filled with a vicious sort of pleasure. "Excellent."
Although... 'In case Bradley's in there I have array to take out homunculi'
Grand's eyebrows raised, interest and surprise twisting through his qi. "Indeed."
Ed shrugged. 'Dr Marcoh created it,' he admitted, before catching one of the pages from his note to Grand and turning it over to sketch the array on the back. Once he'd passed it back for Grand to look over, he wrote in his journal, 'Be careful. His left eye is fine + he can see any attack coming if in sight'
Grand grunted. "Let me worry about Bradley, Silent. Assuming he doesn't jump out the window as soon as you start making a ruckus."
Ed snorted, because that was always possible.
Grand was silent for another, much longer, moment, staring down at Marcoh's array while his qi swirled through indecision, something that felt suspiciously like fear, and an aged grief. Finally, resignation rolled through him before he said, "When you asked about demons, you wanted to know if I knew about this." He set the paper with the array back on the pile of the rest of the note, then tapped a finger on top of it.
Ed shrugged and nodded because, yeah, that had been what he was aiming at. He'd got confirmation that Grand was clean through other means, of course, but even if Grand hadn't answered about the conspiracy, whatever he considered his 'demons' would tell a lot about him. Would, with luck, help Ed figure out if he'd actually been reading the man right.
Grand flexed his left hand, scowling down at it, before gruffly saying, "My uncle taught me and my cousin alchemy. When he died, I joined the military, while my cousin decided to build a family. Word got back, somehow, that my cousin had created an array the military could use, so they sent me to get it from him. He didn't like the military, and when he said no, I didn't push. Went back, told my superiors it wouldn't happen and thought that was the end of it." He fisted his left hand tight enough his knuckles turned white, and Ed felt a definite sinking sensation in his stomach. "A week later, I got the news that there had been a fire; my cousin and his family were all dead. I didn't think anything of it until I saw his research in lab one."
He looked up, then, and his expression was as immobile as ever, but his qi felt like a heart breaking all over again, and Ed understood that feeling all too well. "I will never forgive myself for not pushing him."
What could he possibly say to that? Ed didn't know of any words that would ease the loss of family, not when the person you were saying them to believed it was their fault their family was gone. Fuck, he'd been willing to give up everything for the chance to have Al back.
He swallowed, then wrote, 'Do you know who gave order?'
Grand narrowed his eyes at the words. "No," he admitted. "I knew I wouldn't be able to keep from killing them."
Ed nodded, familiar with that rage. 'We'll just have to punish them all'
Surprise streaked through Grand's qi, and he let out a rough, clearly surprised laugh. "And so we shall." He leant back, his qi soothing out and easing away from that old grief. "If I think of further questions, I'll find a way to get them to you."
Ed snorted and nodded; it wasn't like they didn't regularly meet. Then he held up a finger when Grand started to move like he was going to stand, stopping him, and quickly wrote, 'If you must trust others trust those with family to lose'
Grand gave a grim nod. "Not a bad caution."
Ed offered a tired smile, then slipped his journal away and stood.
"Are you intending to go back out the same way you came in?" Grand asked drily, his qi a mix of concern, disapproval, and resignation.
Ed flashed him one of his best cocky smirks and nodded.
Grand grunted and led the way upstairs to the window Ed had come in through. "Try not to break your neck," he suggested flatly.
Ed rolled his eyes and slipped out of the window once it was open, then set about performing the same manoeuvre as he'd done at Roy's house, flipping himself up onto the roof with one easy moment.
Unlike Roy, Grand didn't bother looking out the window, just closed it again, disbelief and resignation twisting through his qi.
Ed snickered to himself and made his way back to the Hugheses', where he could assure everyone that things had gone just fine and they had another ally.
That night, once they were home, Ed quickly signed, :Can we talk?: before Roy could distract him with his perfect everything.
Roy frowned, concern arcing through his qi. "Living room?" he suggested.
Ed nodded, then followed Roy into the living room, managing a fond smile when the bastard tugged on a glove and snapped, lighting a blaze in the fireplace, even though it was plenty warm enough in the house to not need it, instead of actually turning on any electric lights.
They settled on opposite sides of the couch Madam Christmas had brought that first evening, and Ed took a careful breath before signing, :I didn't need to tell him you want the Führership.:
Roy tensed, and while there was some anger in his qi, it wasn't aimed at Ed, and there was no sign of surprise. But, then, he already knew Bradley was watching him; what better way to keep an eye on a young upstart, than to tell your subordinates he was gunning for their positions. "And?" he asked quietly.
:He'll support you.:
Shock lanced through Roy's qi, and he stared at Ed like he couldn't believe he was real for a moment. "Are you–?"
:I didn't sense any lie.:
Roy drew in a careful breath and turned toward the fire, the movement of the flames caressing the contours of his face.
Ed failed utterly at not staring, but he did manage to keep from licking his lips, or just generally jumping across the couch and kissing the bastard, so points for that. (He was so ruined. Fucking Roy Mustang.)
Roy finally looked back toward him, his eyebrows drawn tight together. "What does he want?"
Ed shrugged. :Once we can spare him, to be allowed back out into the battlefield. He's tired of paperwork.:
Roy snorted, amused understanding flickering through his qi. "I know the feeling." He sighed a bit and offered Ed a helpless sort of smile. "That's one reason to not want to be Führer."
Ed rolled his eyes and signed, :Lazy bastard,: mostly to make Roy laugh, which he did, stretching his legs out across the couch and pressing his feet against Ed's folded legs. Ed made a show of holding his nose, won another chuckle from the bastard, then shook his head and sighed. :He said something about Amestris needing a more charismatic leader than him.:
Roy frowned and thought that over. "Personable?" he murmured before focussing on Ed. "What do you think?"
:I think I'm biased.:
Roy's mouth turned up with a smile. "That's true. You've already fallen for my charms."
Ed unfolded his legs so he could shove at the bastard, only for Roy to catch his right foot and start doing that thing with his thumbs against the underside, which somehow managed to drain almost all of Ed's tension in no time at all. (Ed seriously needed to learn that trick; it was impossible for him to have a conversation while he was doing it, but he had a sinking feeling that Roy was going to end up needing it more days than not, once he became the Führer.)
He let out a disgruntled noise, even as he let himself relax a bit more against the couch. :Cheat.:
"You love me," Roy returned, his eyes glinting in that 'I know I've won and there's nothing you can do about it' way that Ed really fucking want to hate, but had sort of resigned himself to.
'Yeah,' he mouthed. 'Love your stupid face.'
Roy's stupid face broke out into the stupidest, most adoring smile in his arsenal, while his qi just sort of rolled forward and wrapped itself around Ed.
The only possible response to that, was for Ed to yank his foot away and lunge across the couch to attack his bastard with kisses.
On Monday, Ed managed about an hour of failing to concentrate on the rambling note home he was supposed to be translating, before deciding to just fucking call it a research day and leaving his desk for a bit of Investigations-style snooping in the personnel room, using an alchemically created document to get past the sign-in desk. (One day, he might stop using that array for his own amusement or gain, but he doubted it. At least their future Führer was resigned to his bad habit of treating laws like rather flexible guidelines? Mostly.)
It didn't take him long to find Grand's file and look up information on his deceased cousin.
Armed with names and a date, he returned to Investigations and went spelunking in the file room.
It took him three days – there was something of a running gag in Investigations, about how anyone who had to hunt something down in the file room would afterwards tell people they were absolutely, no joke, going to spend that weekend organising it, except none of them cared enough to actually do anything about it once the weekend rolled around – but he did finally manage to find the flimsy piece of paper that had ended the lives of Grand's family.
Once he saw the signature at the bottom of the page, Ed just started laughing.
(It was possible he'd been stuck in the file room a little too long.)
Ed made a copy of the kill order and carefully blacked out the names of the soldiers involved – he didn't know any of them, wasn't even certain any of them were still alive, but they'd only been following orders, and Grand was probably right to not want to know – then slipped it in with the lab report, and handed it all over to Grand.
He knew when Grand reached that sheet, because his qi went tense all over, and he shot Ed a sharp look.
Ed just shrugged and smiled back, while Al hissed, "Brother," in that tone than meant he knew Ed had done something potentially stupid again and, for the record, Al did not approve.
Grand looked back down at the page, his qi marked with a sort of apprehensive curiosity. Surprise flashed through his qi – apparently obvious enough that Al sensed it, because Ed spotted him twitching out of the corner of his eye – and then Grand looked up and quietly demanded, "Fessler?"
Ed nodded, still smiling, and signed for Al to translate – with a faint frown – :I guess that stray bullet got him first.:
Grand's mouth turned up just enough to be obvious behind his moustache, his qi thrumming with a rather vindictive satisfaction, and he carefully folded that paper up, then slipped it inside his jacket.
And then his expression returned to normal and he started asking the usual questions about their report, his qi retaining that thrum of satisfaction throughout.
After they were done, Grand straightened their report against the table top, then looked straight at Ed and said, "Thank you, boys." Coached as a dismissal, for any bugs, but intended as gratitude.
Ed inclined his head, then joined Al in leaving the office.
Out in the hall, Al murmured, "Brother."
Ed shrugged and explained, :His family was murdered on order from someone inside the military.:
Al drew in a sharp breath, pity and sorrow swirling through his qi. "Oh," he whispered.
Ed nodded. :Yes. He never went looking for who ordered it because he was afraid he'd kill them.:
"But they're already dead?" Al guessed.
Ed snorted. :In Ishval,: he agreed. :Official story is he was hit by a stray bullet.:
Al cast him a suspicious look. "And unofficially?"
:Grand shot him. Hughes was there.:
Al slowed a bit, uncertainty flickering through his qi, and Ed matched him. "Why?" he asked at last.
Ed shrugged. :Hughes told me the guy was being unreasonable, didn't care how many men they lost. I suspect there's more to it, but I never really cared enough to push.:
Al nodded and waited until they were outside Roy and his team's office, then said, "I guess he got his revenge anyway."
Ed's smile felt a little tired, but honest, and he nodded. :He did,: he agreed, before lightly smacking Al's shoulder, then turning to leave for the day. (He had an Envy to torment.)
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