FIC: Colours in Your Eyes ~ FMAB ~ Ed/Roy & AlMei ~ Mature ~ Chapter 3/3 *COMPLETE*

[batsutousai]

Title: Colours in Your Eyes
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood/manga
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Paninya/Winry Rockbell, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, soulmate AU, Xing politics, mentions of homophobia, cultural differences, canon character death (you know which one), age gaps, why are these boys such idiots?
Summary: Everyone is born with the ability to only see the colour of their soulmate's eyes. Only upon touching their soulmate, can people see the rest of the world's colours.
Edward Elric will do whatever it takes to get his brother's body back and ensure he can have his happily ever after with his soulmate, even if it means never finding his own soulmate.

A/N: And here's the closing chapter! :D

-Chapter 3-

If Grumman had heard anything about Edward or Alphonse since the word about them being in Xing three and a half years ago, he hadn't seen fit to pass it on to Roy. He forced himself to view it as a good thing; just because previous experience suggested that Edward was loud and impossible to miss hearing about until he'd done something he couldn't fix, didn't mean that was the case here. For one, there was a rather obvious natural barrier between them; for another, Roy was hardly privy to the Führer's correspondence with Xing, especially since he'd been in Ishval until less than a month ago.

In fact, he'd barely finished unpacking his new office, when Grumman had told him to go down to the official border crossing between Amestris and Aerugo to await the arrival of the Xingan ambassador. So, if nothing else, he knew Edward hadn't managed to completely destroy their relationship with Xing. (He suspected Alphonse had stepped in and mitigated whatever damage Edward had wrought; that was how the brothers usually operated.)

He tried not to form any expectations about the ambassador while he waited for them, but it was hard not to run possibilities. (Especially since that kept him from wondering after Edward. It was a bad habit he really needed to break; Edward had made it quite clear that he didn't want anything to do with Roy, and that growing part of Roy – fed by lonely nights and watching his team and his aunt's women find partners – that wanted a second chance was unlikely to make so much as a dent in Edward's infamous stubbornness, especially with the distance between them.) Would they be delicate, and that's why they hadn't crossed the desert? Or were they just very, very particular about sand? Did they even speak Amestrisan? (They had best; Amestris didn't exactly have a wealth of Xingan translators to assist in communication.)

So far, all of the Xingans he'd met had come through the desert, rather than by sea. And, while they'd all been a little...unconventional, they'd seemed like good people. (At the least, they'd all sacrificed their share in the fight against Father.) He didn't really know anything about the new emperor, save that there was one, and he was one of the previous emperor's sons, so he couldn't even use that knowledge to judge what sort of ambassador he'd send.

"You're fidgeting, sir," Riza remarked blandly.

Roy cleared his throat and carefully straightened, not quite coming to attention, but close enough that his training would kick in and keep him still. "Noted, Colonel."

And then Havoc jogged back over from where he'd been chatting with the gate guards on their side. "They're coming through now, Chief," he reported.

They? Their ambassador had brought a retinue?

Well, if you were intending to spend gods knew how long in a foreign country, Roy supposed it made sense to do so with familiar faces.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy got out before the heavy gates started to swing open, and all three of them turned their attention to seeing what sort of person they'd been sent from Xing.

"Grazie!" a hauntingly familiar voice called, right before a man with long, golden-blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail stepped through the opened gates, looking back over his shoulder as he said something in another language, his voice cheerful, but with a hint of concern? A female voice responded, sounding irritated, and Edward laughed, the sound so utterly free.

Riza failed to stifle a startled noise on one side on him, while Havoc's cigarette fell from his gaping mouth to the gravel at his feet.

For his part, Roy just stared, captivated by the mere sight of Edward, grown into a man while he'd been away. He was wearing what Roy assumed were a Xingan-style jacket and trousers in black, with the edging and clasps of the jacket done in yellow. It suited him far more than his hooded coat – which Maes had once told him was red and as attention-catching as his personality, to those who could see it – made him look less like he was trying to take up as much space as he possibly could.

And then Edward turned forward again, and Roy found himself meeting brilliant gold eyes, still lit with that familiar fire, but also a lot...calmer, perhaps. Settled.

Edward's smile faltered briefly, and then came back with the sort of force of will that made something in Roy's chest ache. "Should have guessed you lot would get stuck on ambassador-sitting duty," he said a bit mockingly, a hint of an accent shading his words.

"Brother," Alphonse said as he stepped past the edges of the opened gate, tired disapproval in his voice. His eyes and hair were as brilliantly golden as Edward's, and he'd also clearly grown into a man, not quite so tall as his armour body had been, but Roy suspected he was still taller than Edward. He was dressed in a similar style to his brother, but brown edged in yellow, instead of black.

There was a young Xingan woman at his side, who couldn't have been more than seventeen, by Roy's estimate, and was just pregnant enough to show. Alphonse's arm was held like he wanted to help her walk, but she had very obviously crossed her own arms over her chest and wasn't looking at him.

And then, as three other Xingans followed Alphonse and the young woman – an older woman leading a mule weighed down with bags, and two men with the bearing of of soldiers – Alphonse caught sight of Roy, Riza, and Havoc, and his face sort of froze for a moment, before he smiled. "General! I sent the Führer a letter with our expected date of arrival–"

"You did what?!" Edward demanded, sounding so much like himself as a child, Roy had to look at him to remind himself he'd grown.

"–but I didn't really expect anything to come of it, other than maybe a car waiting for us," Alphonse finished, before he turned a glare on Edward. "Which is doubly important, with May–"

"I am not an invalid, Alphonse!" the young woman snapped.

May was the name of the young princess who'd appeared with Envy while they'd been underground, Roy recalled. He'd never known much about her, other than that Edward had gone north after her and Scar, and they'd apparently settled into something akin to an alliance by the time the Promised Day had rolled around.

"Doghouse!" Edward sing-songed, and Alphonse's face turned bright red and he very obviously clasped his hands in front of himself.

The young woman shot Edward an unimpressed look as she walked toward Roy, stopping just out of arm's reach and unfolding her arms before giving a short bow. As she straightened, she said, "I am May Elric, the fourteenth princess of Xing. I was sent by His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Xing, to serve as his voice in Amestris."

Wait. May Elric?

"Al got married?" Havoc blurted out.

Alphonse sighed and nodded, but it was Edward who said, as he came over to stand next to May and tug on one of her braids, earning him a glare, "Yup. Turns out Al and May're soulmates." He grinned, and Roy honestly couldn't tell if it was because he was happy for Al, or in response to May's glare. "Xingan custom requires the arrangements are made by the eldest relatives of the bride and groom-to-be, so I had to go with Al to Xing and sort everything out."

Something in Roy's chest eased; Edward hadn't been trying to put a desert between them, he'd been looking after his brother.

Did that mean... Did Roy have a second chance with Edward?

Riza cleared her throat, and Roy suspected he'd get a disapproving frown if he looked at her, so he didn't. Instead, he inclined his head toward May and offered, "I'm General Roy Mustang, and these are Colonel Riza Hawkeye and Lieutenant Colonel Jean Havoc; we've been sent to collect you and your retinue, and escort you to Central City." Then he looked over slightly, meeting gold eyes again. "Edward, Alphonse, it's good to see you both looking so well."

Edward shrugged, leaving it for Alphonse, who had approached while Roy was speaking, to reply, "Likewise, sir."

Roy offered him a smile. "And congratulations are in order, I expect."

Alphonse's cheeks shaded with pink and he cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

Riza stepped forward, then. "Princess May, if you and your companions will follow myself and Lieutenant Colonel Havoc, we'll show you to the cars."

"Of course," she agreed, before saying something in that same language Edward had used before. (And she'd clearly been the one who had responded, unless the older woman with the mule had the exact same pitch.)

Edward moved to go with the rest of his party, not sparring Roy a glance, and something in his chest squeezed. Without any conscious thought on his part, his hand snapped out and caught Edward's, holding fast. "Edward–" he started, before realising he didn't really know what to say.

Edward turned to look at him, his expression impossibly blank; a distant part of Roy was surprised at his control. "General?" he returned, his voice flat.

Roy swallowed against the tightness of his throat, and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't– You had the right. To know. I should have told you."

"Yeah," Edward replied, his mouth curling into a snarl and anger filling his voice, even as hurt dimmed his eyes, "you really fucking should've."

Roy's chest ached, looking into those familiar eyes. In a desperate bid to keep Edward from pulling away and letting that be that, he said, "You were so focussed on your quest–"

"Do you ever stop fucking lying?" Edward snapped, bringing up his free hand and shoving a finger against Roy's sternum. "I didn't come back here just to listen to more of your conceited, 'everyone loves me 'cause I'm pretty' bull–"

"You were ten!" Roy interrupted, irritated that Edward had managed to, like always, completely obliterate any semblance of control Roy might have had over the conversation. "What did you want me to say? 'Hey, I know you've just lost your arm and leg, and you wouldn't know me from the Führer, but your eyes are the only colour I've ever seen, so I think we're soulmates. Let's hold hands and find out'?"

Edward just sort of stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide with shock, before they narrowed, and the finger that had been shoving against his sternum formed into a fist that caught Roy's cheek with all the force of a runaway train.

He stumbled back a step, eyes watering and jaw aching.

There came what sounded like a scuffle from off to the side, and Roy glanced over while he gingerly pressed his hand against his jaw, only to find Riza very firmly holding Havoc from coming to Roy's aid, while Alphonse and all four of the Xingans watched on with either frowns, or dispassionate stares.

Honestly, Roy'd rather suspected he was going to be on his own, in this one. He hadn't expected it to be quite so public, but he'd been the one to make the first move, so it was his own fault.

He turned back to Edward as the young man said, his voice low and laced with fury, "You had three years worth of opportunities to find a better moment, you imbecile, so don't fucking feed me that bullshit. If your issue's that I was a kid, or a fucking disaster everywhere I went, then fucking say so."

Roy carefully stretched his jaw, wincing at the burn of pain, but it didn't feel broken, and he suspected Edward actually would break his jaw if he tried to put this debate on hold for later, so he carefully replied, "Yes, the age difference bothered me, because I couldn't afford the scandal, and you were my subordinate, besides."

Edward's expression remained a mask of anger, save for that little glimmer of hurt in his eyes, and Roy felt rather a lot like how he'd done after Ishval. "Is that it?" Edward asked after a long moment of silence.

Roy seriously considered just nodding and letting that be the end of it, if only because his jaw ached, but it was a lie of omission that had set them on this path, and he knew all too well how good Edward was at sniffing out the truth of a matter. So he closed his eyes and quietly admitted, "I was afraid."

Edward shifted, the gravel giving the movement away, but didn't actually say anything.

Which was probably for the best, because Roy wasn't completely certain he'd be able to explain properly if Edward interrupted. "I've known, since I was a child, that the likelihood of finding someone with gold eyes was...impossible. When I saw you I just– I panicked. I thought, if I never knew for sure, then it would always be possible."

And then Edward stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his feet, and Roy couldn't keep his eyes from opening and looking down into gold eyes, still shadowed with hurt, but also with a grim sort of sadness. "And in hospital?" he asked quietly, a hollow sort of echo to his voice. "After you got your sight back, you just left right off. I asked."

Roy shook his head, trying to ignore the way his chest ached anew at the news that Edward had asked after him. Had clearly been hurt that he'd just left without a word. "You never came back," he pointed out, and Edward looked away, eyebrows drawn tight. "I didn't have any particular interest in being able to see you walk away."

"I had to focus on Al," Edward muttered, tone slightly defensive. And then he looked back up at Roy, mouth twisted with a scowl. "Anyway! I didn't even fucking realise you'd got your sight back until you'd already left! I mean, you were fucking blind, and I know you hated dealing with me when you could fucking see me, so I just assu–" He clamped his mouth shut on the end of that word, expression twisting into something a bit more self-deprecating than angry at Roy. "Fuck," he muttered, before turning away. "I can't fucking deal with you right now." Then he stalked toward where everyone else was still watching, calling, "Get me away from that bastard before I fucking punch him again."

Riza handled the carloads with her usual easy efficiency, and Roy wasn't even a little surprised to find himself in the second car with Havoc, one of the two Xingan guards, and the older Xingan woman.

"So," Havoc said after about ten minutes of tense silence, "soulmates with the boss."

"I promise you, Lieutenant Colonel, that your rank will in no way protect you from the most unpleasant job I can find for you once we return to Central," Roy returned flatly.

Havoc coughed. "Good talk, Chief," he said, and they made the rest of the drive to the nearest train station in silence, giving Roy more than enough time to try and figure out how to ease things with Edward, and maybe finally get the chance he'd avoided reaching for for so long, he'd very nearly lost it entirely.

-0-

Al and May had, kindly, kept their thoughts to themselves, and Hawkeye hadn't asked about the altercation, only about their stay in Xing, which Ed left for his brother to cover.

At the station, they all piled out and everyone helped the older woman from May's clan, Xiang, in collecting and transporting their belongings. When she tried to insist it was her duty, Al gently interrupted, "Auntie, we're in Amestris, now; let us help."

(Because they'd had to sit all the Xingans down on the boat and have a long conversation about cultural differences, including that it was actually considered a bit rude to expect older generations to play servant to the whims of the young. Which wasn't to say that Xiang – who was almost fifty, but had been plenty strong enough to carry May on her wedding day – couldn't handle taking care of May, or would be expected to leave her care to others, only that everyone was going to be expected to carry their own weight. Which was a large part of the reason Ed and Al had agreed, before leaving Xing, on a strict 'no more than two bags each' rule for the trip. The rest of the reason, of course, being that fewer material possessions meant less chance of them losing something, and that it was simply easier to travel light. May had agreed almost immediately, and Ed suspected she'd just been happy for a reason to leave behind some of the more ridiculous or embarrassing things her clan had included in her dowry.)

Xiang's shoulders slouched a bit at Al's gentle reminder, and Ed flashed her a cheerful smile as he leant around his brother and took the bag she was holding from her. "You'll get used to it. Eventually," he promised, and Al sighed.

Xiang huffed at him, before allowing a small, slightly helpless smile. "Eventually," she agreed, and dropped the next bag into Al's waiting arms.

Once they'd all got settled onto the train, Ed made the excuse of needing to use the on-board toilet, did so, then snuck into the next car up and found an empty bench to take there.

He turned to stare out the windows, vaguely relieved to finally catch a moment by himself for the first time in...a while. Since the assassination attempt five months before the wedding, probably. It hadn't been the first one, but it had very nearly resulted in his death, and Lan Fan had got Ling and Al on her side, so Ed had ended up being followed around by a guard everywhere, inside the palace and in the city. And, of course, on the boat and the trip through Aerugo, it had been nearly impossible to find more privacy than was necessary for relieving himself.

He sighed and turned his thoughts to an equally depressing topic: Mustang.

He'd promised both Ling and Al that he'd try with his bastard of a soulmate, but that had been so much easier to agree to when he hadn't seen the man's face in years. Everything about him – his cocky smirk, the faint hint of mocking in his voice every time he spoke to Ed, the fact that he'd lied to him for years – really fucking pissed Ed off.

He didn't want to make nice with the stupid bastard. He much preferred just punching his face a few more times, until his chest didn't clench with some emotion he didn't care to try defining every time he looked at it.

The door between train cars clicked open, and Ed held as still as possible; both of their guards – Jie, one of Ling's cousins from the Yao clan, and Tengfei, one of May's childhood playmates from the Chang clan – were still colour-blind, and Ed knew his hair was close enough in shade to the train benches and walls, that they'd very likely overlook him at a quick glance.

Except the footsteps that sounded against the floor of the train, when the new arrival moved further into the car, weren't the familiar soft tread of the Xingan guards, but the barely remembered stomp of Amestrisan military boots.

Ed scowled as he turned to face the aisle, and couldn't say he was particularly surprised to find Mustang coming to a stop at the end of his bench, his expression carefully blanked and the blue of his uniform mostly hidden by his stupid black coat. "Fuck off," Ed snapped, before looking toward the window again.

Mustang was still for a long moment, before he stepped into Ed's space and settled into the bench across from him. "I'm just sitting," the bastard said tiredly, looking out the window himself.

"Sit somewhere else!"

Mustang very obviously ignored him, and Ed crossed his arms over his chest and glared out at the passing countryside.

Mustang was silent and still for long enough that Ed had actually started to relax a bit, before he leant forward and held out his hand – bare of any gloves, just as it had been when he'd grabbed Ed's hand earlier, he couldn't help but note – saying, "Hi. I'm Roy."

Ed shot him his best 'you're fucking insane' look and, keeping his voice flat, said, "What the fuck is this?"

"An introduction," Mustang replied, his voice neither mocking, nor smug. It also wasn't that quiet, pathetic tone he'd used earlier, the one that had made Ed want to throw up at the utter wrongness of it. He actually just sounded...plain. Like a normal person, for once.

Ed frowned down at his hand, felt stupid when it occurred he was waiting to see if it had teeth or something, and finally reached out to take the bastard's hand. "Ed," he muttered, trying not to feel embarrassed at how weird this felt, shaking Mustang's hands like they were fucking strangers or something.

Ed yanked his hand away as soon as he could, curling back into his seat and glaring at the seat back over Mustang's shoulder, unable to quite look at the bastard, but not entirely certain he trusted him not to do something else weird.

Mustang's next move was, of course, to lean over slightly, until Ed caught his eyes involuntarily. Mustang smiled at him, then, not quite as stupidly charming as Ed'd seen him use on women all the time when he'd been a kid, but far closer to that than the half-mocking, half-teeth bared smiles Ed was far more familiar with being directed his way. "Your eyes are the most stunning colour I've ever seen," Mustang commented.

Ed felt a little like his face had just caught on fire. "What the fuck?!" he snarled.

"Language," Mustang murmured, raising an eyebrow at him. "There are probably children on the train."

"Like I give a flying fuck what some stupid fucking kid hears me saying!" Ed hissed back.

Mustang sighed and shook his head, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "How did you ever manage a treaty with the Xingans?"

"I didn't look at Ling," Ed deadpanned, even though that wasn't quite true. He'd actually taken to looking at Ling – or Lan Fan, if he happened to know where she was hiding – and rolling his eyes or putting on a 'help me' expression when one of the ministers was being more of a moron than usual. Ling would actually intervene about half the time, and it was always entertaining watching either of them trying not to react to the disrespect. (That Ed had only been caught twice, in three years, was something of a miracle. Either he was a lot better at subtlety than he knew – which he would never suggest to anyone, because he knew they'd laugh – or the ministers were all morons who were too caught up in their own self-importance to be aware of when someone was making fun of them not twenty feet away.)

Mustang's brow furrowed slightly and he tilted his head to one side. "Ling Yao? He was in the meetings?"

Ed blinked at him, thrown. Mustang didn't–?

No, he realised, of course the man didn't know Ling had become emperor. Ed and (he suspected) Al, had politely obeyed the Xingan custom of never using the emperor's given name, even in written communication. Ed had used it a few times in private – to Ling, because he knew he'd let him get away with it, or to Al, when he didn't have the patience for using titles or dragon symbolism to refer to the idiot emperor – but he knew enough about the consequences of breaking a taboo, to hold to that one.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Ling's the emperor," he offered.

Mustang blinked and straightened. "Ah. That's good to hear, for him."

Ed shrugged again, because sitting across from his own soulmate made it extremely difficult to forget what Ling had given up for the sake of his country. "I guess," he agreed, a little too quiet. When Mustang frowned, clearly confused, Ed shook his head and grabbed for the first topic he could think of: "It's kind of taboo, in Xing, I mean, to use the emperor's given name, for everyone. And I know we're not in Xing, but the Xingans– Well, May won't care as much, because she's used to me, or maybe it's only when it's me, but–"

"Avoid actually referring to Xing's current emperor by name?" Mustang finished for him.

Ed cleared his throat. "Yes." And then it finally hit him, what Mustang had been doing with the whole complimenting his eyes nonsense: "Wait, were you trying to fucking charm your way into my good graces or some bullshit, you bastard?"

Mustang let out a laugh that maybe sounded a little startled? Not mocking, at least, which was the only thing that kept Ed from giving in to the urge to punch him. And then Mustang gave him some sort of weird smile that made Ed's face feel warm and said, "I'm glad."

"About what?" Ed snarled, irritated because he didn't really get what was going on.

"That you haven't changed."

Ed's breath sort of froze in his lungs for a moment, before he managed to force it out in a gasp that sounded worryingly close to a startled noise. But Ed couldn't...really...focus on that, because, what? Mustang was glad he was insulting him? Or– Or was that a comment on his difficulty in picking up on social cues? Because he fucking knew about that, okay? And it actually wasn't that fucking funny–

Fingers brushed back along his cheek, the skin-on-skin impossibly more intimate than Ed was prepared for, and his face felt like it was on fire again as he met Mustang's gaze.

"Almost six years," Mustang said quietly, his palm feeling like a brand against Ed's too-hot cheek. "When I heard you were in Xing, I was afraid you'd never come back, that I'd never get the chance to see you again. You were the only colour I had for almost thirty years, Edward, and when I was finally able to see the rest of them, I'd already lost you; I'm sorry."

There was something caught in Ed's throat, making it difficult to draw a proper breath, and impossible to manage more than a whispered, "What?"

"I know I don't deserve it, but is there any way I can talk you into giving me a second chance?"

Maybe it was only because he'd seen it so many times in Ling's eyes – so similar to Mustang's, Ed wouldn't be surprised to discover they shared a common ancestor – but Ed recognised the regret in Mustang's eyes, tired and too close to eternal. Almost as though Mustang, like Ling, knew he was looking at living the rest of his life alone, even though fate had been kind enough to set his soulmate right next to him.

Ed had been assuming Mustang just hadn't wanted anything to do with him, but that...wasn't the case, was it? Like with Ling, fate had given him a soulmate that he could reach out and touch at any moment, but their culture said was out of his reach.

Except, where time had just strengthened the barrier between Ling and Lan Fan, it had completely demolished the one between Ed and Mustang; the only thing keeping them apart, now, was Ed himself.

"You're an idiot," Ed whispered, honestly couldn't say which of them he was saying it to, before pushing past Mustang's hand on his cheek and aiming for a kiss.

It was clumsy, and way off-centre, but Mustang stopped playing statue just before Ed could pull away, and there were suddenly hands cupping his face, gently nudging him into place, while warm lips shifted against his, softened.

And then something rather like electricity arced between them, sparking through Ed and settling into that little empty hole in his being that had become all too familiar since the Promised Day.

Ed jerked himself backward, away from Mustang, with a gasp, turning wide eyes on his hands. That was– That felt–

The warm little flame in that empty hole flickered for a moment, as though uncertain it should be there, before Mustang called, "Edward?" some emotion in his voice that Ed didn't have the attention to spare toward defining, especially since the flame strengthened in response.

Swallowing and feeling a little like an idiot – because he'd lived with this loss for almost six years, now, and nothing ever changed – Ed pressed his palms together. There was nothing for a moment that seemed to go on for an eternity, and then–

Bright blue light sparked around his hands.

"Alchemy," Mustang breathed.

Ed looked up at him and caught his eyes. Eyes that had always been so black – so cold and uncaring, endless pits that lacked any sign of a soul – were lit with the blue of the transmutation, and they glowed with life, with joy and victory and everything that was starting to bloom in Ed's own chest.

He could do alchemy again.

He pulled his hands apart as it occurred to him that this shouldn't be possible. He'd given up his Gate for Al; there was no getting that back.

AL.

He jumped to his feet and raced back to their original car, slamming through the safety door and almost tripping as he jumped the minor gap between the cars, catching himself on the door of the other car and shoving it open almost before he had his feet under him, bursting into the car and–

"Brother?" Al called as he jumped to his feet, his expression twisted with worry.

"Oh," Ed breathed, "Al. Thank fuck."

And then his right knee just sort of...gave out on him.

Arms caught him from behind, pulling him back against a warm chest, and Ed closed his eyes and relaxed back into Mustang's hold, so unspeakably relieved that Truth hadn't gone back on their trade.

"What happened?" Al demanded, an icy edge to his voice that meant he was seriously considering reminding everyone there that his normal politeness didn't mean he couldn't take all of them out in less than a minute.

"I'm...not altogether certain," Mustang admitted.

Ed opened his eyes and brought his hands up to frown at. If Al was still there, then how could he do alchemy? He didn't have a fucking Gate to determine the equivalence.

Well, actually, he didn't actually know he could do alchemy. Gathering sufficient latent energy for a transmutation was far more than he'd been able to do, certainly, but that was hardly the same thing as actively completing a transmutation.

"Edward," Al called, very likely not the first time he'd tried to get Ed's attention.

"I need to test something," Ed muttered, shoving his sleeve out of the way so he could get out one of the throwing knives he kept on his person.

Al let out an irritated noise, while Mustang just sighed against Ed's hair, tickling against the top of his scalp.

There wasn't a lot he could do to the knife that wouldn't get in the way of its use. However, if this worked, he could easily change it back, and if it didn't work, it wouldn't matter. So, he closed his eyes to envision what he wanted, then opened them again and pressed his hands together, knife held easily between them.

There was, again, that brief-yet-endless moment where nothing happened, and then the energy sparked – Al let out a startled yelp and stumbled backward – and the knife began to change shape.

At Ed's back, Mustang had gone tense, his arms tightening around Ed's chest just enough to be noticeable.

As the energy died off, spent, Mustang relaxed again and let out what Ed only knew was a shaky breath because it was into his hair.

Ed pulled away and turned to face the bastard, the metal crane in his hand forgotten. "I'm using–"

"My Gate," Mustang finished for him.

Ed recalled, a bit distantly, that one of the statistics he'd found as a child said that alchemists – or those with the potential for alchemy – were always soulmates of others with the potential. Always.

When Al and he had performed human transmutation, Ed had hypothesised that their souls had crossed somehow, and been proven correct when his and Al's Gates had been directly opposite each other on that other plane of existence and visible to each other. Ed had even used Al's Gate to get back to their plane, so it was clearly possible to use another person's Gate. Therefore, matching a non-alchemist with an alchemist would give that non-alchemist the ability to use alchemy, assuming such was possible without the knowledge of that other plane that both Ed and Mustang possessed; whatever other – Truth or fate or what-have-you – that decided on the matches between humans would be far smarter to just avoid having that mix-up occur altogether, by only pairing alchemists with other alchemists.

Which, actually, if completing a soulmate bond, or whatever, allowed him – without his Gate – to access Mustang's Gate, what would that have meant for them when his and Al's souls were still twisted together on the other side? (Assuming they weren't still. Ed assumed not, since he'd never been able to sense or access Al's Gate after bringing them home; more likely, their souls had got uncrossed in transit somewhere.) Would the soulmate bond have even worked? Would it have been sort of like Al and Ed were soulmates – just without being able to see colours – at least until their souls uncrossed? Or would there have been three Gates all clustered together: his, Al's, and Mustang's?

Had Mustang inadvertently saved himself a great deal of stress by deciding not to touch Ed for all those years?

"That," Mustang commented quietly, recapturing Ed's meandering attention, "was rather disconcerting."

The bottom dropped out of Ed's stomach, derailing his thoughts with the reminder that Mustang could sense when Ed used his Gate. 'Disconcerting', he called it. Was that Mustang-talk for 'painful'? Was he hurting the bastard when he used his Gate?

"I–I'm sorry," he managed, feeling nauseous. "I wo–"

Mustang covered his mouth with one hand. "Edward," he whispered as Ed looked up and caught his eyes, found them so completely opposite from the uncaring pits he'd always thought of them as, "please. It's yours."

Ed felt his face get way too warm again, but he couldn't bring himself to care any more, because Mustang–

Mustang knew. He'd paid his toll to the Gate, too. He knew that loss, and he knew how it felt to suddenly get it back. To be able to see...to use alchemy again...

They were the same.

Ed pulled Mustang's hand out of the way, then leant up to kiss him. And the bastard caught a hand around his waist and pulled him in close, felt as warm and comfortable as the curl of flame that had eased the empty space where his Gate had once been.

And then, out of nowhere, Ed felt himself pushed even closer to the bastard by someone behind him, and turned to scowl at Al over his shoulder.

Al just flashed him a wide, bright smile, and whispered, "Congratulations," before letting go and stepping back far enough that Ed could see Hawkeye and Havoc and May and the other three Xingans and fucking all the other people in that car watching them, most of them smiling.

Ed moaned and turned to hide his face against Mustang's stupid black coat, then hit the bastard when he started laughing.

-0-

There are two framed photographs sitting on the dresser, now.

One was taken shortly after the now-Führer Roy Elric-Mustang and late Brigadier General Maes Hughes had been promoted to lieutenant colonel and major, respectively, for their efforts during the Ishval Civil War. Roy has his best serious face on, but Maes is wearing a bright grin.

The other was taken shortly before Ambassadors Edward Mustang-Elric and Alphonse Elric left for Xing, the trip which had paved the way for peace treaties signed with Xing and Aerugo, and trade agreements with both those countries, as well as half a dozen along the Meradian Sea. Both brothers are grinning, arms around each other's shoulders.

Between the photos sits a stack of coins – a single five hundred piece and two tens – and a black Xingan-style dragon that looks red from the right angle, and is holding what looks like a flame between outstretched claws. Almost as though it's offering to share.

-0-0-0-0-0-

A/N: Art for this chapter:
Closing scene by VioVayo

Chapters:

One | Two | Three

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