Jack ran as far as Brasil. He thought that maybe the Amazon was deep enough, dark enough that he'd lose himself, but it hasn't happened yet. There are no mirrors, so he doesn't have to look himself in the face, but he knows he's still there. He was there a month when he found the rift, deep in the forest, smaller than he thought it would be. He'd've found it sooner if he'd had his vortex manipulator, but all he has is a cheap knockoff, pulled together from spare parts and whatever he could find in the airport when he flew in. The thing detects rift energy and that's about it. He spends more than a week scouring the area, looking for anything alien he can use to build a subspace transmitter, because he can't bear to be on this planet anymore, and his vortex manipulator is gone, and Torchwood is gone, and he won't ask UNIT for help. Not now, not after everything. The Cardiff rift would be better for this search, he doesn't remind himself, because if he can't bear to be on Earth, Cardiff is the epicenter of everything he can't stand to remember anymore.
He's poking through the wreckage of a small part of a ship too damaged even to use for parts when the rift energy spikes, higher than it has since Jack got here. Something big is coming through. Jack jumps up, following the energy signature, trying to triangulate the location with technology barely advanced enough to do the job. He doesn't think about what could be on the other end; he'll deal with that when he finds it.
He's not prepared for the blood. Jack has seen blood before, more blood than most people can imagine, but this still catches him off-guard. It coats the trees, the bushes, the ground. It takes him a moment to realize that the red lump in the center is a person and not a blood-soaked rock or log. It takes him another moment to realize that the lump is child-sized, and his heart drops into his stomach. He doesn't believe in god, but he prays in that moment that it's a short alien- that it's anything, anything but another dead child.
He wants to run, but there's no one but him anywhere near this place, and if it is a child, someone has to bury the body. Even if Jack shouldn't so much as touch a child, he still can't leave one to rot or be eaten. He reaches out, rolls the tiny body over.
The idea that it might not be dead has never crossed his mind. Almost nothing crosses his mind now, except that the body is human, and it is a child, a blond boy with blood streaked down his face, and he's breathing, which means he's alive. It's all Jack can do to stop himself screaming, because all he can see is Steven's face, and Steven's blond hair, and Steven's blood streaking down his face. He pulls himself together- this isn't his grandson. This boy's hair is long and pulled back, blood matting the gold strands. He's older, too, by at least a few years, and Jack tries not to think about how Steven will never get any older than he was at that terrible moment, screaming and screaming for the whole world to hear.
Jack checks the boy's pulse, and it's strong, if a little fast. His breathing is even, and Jack can't find any sign of an open wound when he prods. Wherever the blood came from, at least it wasn't from the kid. Jack doesn't dare risk moving him, though, not unless they're in immediate danger, or it looks like he won't wake up on his own.
After ten minutes, Jack is about to decide that he should take the risk, because the flies are like a carpet, and he's afraid that the blood will attract something larger. As he considers his options, the boy stirs, groans, and Jack's not sure whether he feels relief or dread. The boy's eyes snap open, and he starts speaking, like he's calling for someone, and there's fear in his voice, and oh, Jack wishes he had the translator functions of his vortex manipulator, because it's no language Jack knows. The boy tries to get up, but he slips on the blood and falls, gasping in pain.
"Hey," Jack says, trying to sound soothing, and the boy notices him for the first time. The boy curls around into something that looks like a combat stance, and Jack is grateful for it, because it makes him look less like a child, and nothing at all like Steven, who was never taught to fight. "It's okay," Jack says, his tone even. "I'm Jack. We have to get away from this mess. Can I help you?" He offers his hand hesitantly, and after a moment, the boy takes it in his own gloved hand and pulls himself shakily up. Jack tries not to look at the blood on his hands where the child touches them. The boy leans on him, limping, his body language wary, but Jack leads him away from the blood and towards a river. They can wash there, Jack figures, and Jack can try to work out how to communicate.
The boy is silent, and halfway there, he collapses again. Jack panics for a moment, thinking no, not again, please not again, but this boy isn't Steven, and he isn't dead either. His eyelids flutter weakly, and he tries to get upright. Jack considers, and then picks the boy up, cradling him in his arms. The boy grimaces, but is in no position to protest. He is remarkably heavy, and Jack wonders whether he might be from a high-grav planet, where humans have denser bones and muscle mass. When Jack gets to the bank of the river, he lays the boy down as gently as he can manage, and shakes out his aching arms, breathing heavily.
The boy groans and says something unintelligible. Jack tries to look non-threatening, and suddenly tries to remember whether he's got any food. The boy will need food, eventually. Jack only needs to eat if he wants to stop being hungry, and it's been a while since he bothered. "What's your name?" he asks the boy, gently, knowing that he won't be understood. "Jack," he offers, pointing at himself.
The boy, looks at him hard, considers. "Ed," he says, quite clearly, pointing at himself.
"Nice to meet you, Ed," Jack says, and he's surprised he can say the words without self-loathing in his voice.
They're ten miles out of Central when Gluttony finds them. This is a new Gluttony, Greed says, but he has the same sense of smell and the same stupid voice and the same attitude. He can find them anywhere. Ed's not afraid for himself of course; he knows that Gluttony's under orders to leave him alone. Ling- Greed- isn't safe, though, and neither are Lion-King and Gorius. Ed tells them both to stay back, he'll deal with this. Greed- Ling- tells him that he doesn't give the goddamned orders in this group. In the end, they both jump into the fight. It's to their advantage that Gluttony is a shitty fighter, but he just keeps coming, and the battle is chaos, and Ed's just managing to keep free of Gluttony's huge, disgusting mouth.
Suddenly, there's light, and blood, and everything goes dark for Ed.
He comes awake calling for Ling and Gorius, the battle still fresh in his mind, and it takes him a moment to realize that wherever he is, it's not where he last was. It's hot here, and the air is close and wet, and there are a million flies. There's blood everywhere, and it takes Ed a moment to work out that it isn't his. He hasn't seen this much blood since he was in Gluttony's stomach, and it takes him a second moment to realize that he's not there, either, unless Gluttony's stomach grew the stars that Ed can barely see peeking between the branches of the trees above him. Ed tries to get up, but his ribs protest and he slips on the blood. That's when he realizes that there's someone there with him.
The man is kneeling on the ground, blood staining his shirt and pants, and when he speaks, Ed doesn't understand the language. There's no one else around, and the guy doesn't look like he wants to kill Ed, so Ed follows him when he leads Ed away from the blood and the carpet of flies. The guy's insistent that they need to keep moving in this one direction, and Ed wishes that he knew why. He also wishes that the black spots in his vision would get smaller and not larger, and that his stomach would settle. Pretty soon, the stranger ends up carrying Ed, which is fucking humiliating, but Ed keeps getting dizzy when he tries to walk and he's too weak to fight the older man off. He still hasn't shown any sign that he wants to hurt Ed, and Ed figures he'll wait and see- conserve his strength for when he has to fight later.
The man carries him to the bank of a river and sets him down, shaking his arms out from Ed's weight. The man pulls away like he'd rather not touch him, which is fine by Ed. "Where the hell am I?" he asks, knowing it's useless. He pulls himself up to sitting, and his head spins.
The man says something, then points at himself. "Jack," he says, and Ed figures it must be his name.
"Ed," he offers, pointing at himself. His clothes are filthy, soaked with sticky and stiffening blood. Cautiously, the other man- Jack- starts taking off his own clothes and rinsing them in the running water of the river, which explains why he led Ed in this direction. After a moment, Ed shrugs, and pulls off the no-longer-white coat he was wearing, strips off the long black shirt and the gloves. Jack stares when the shirt comes off, and it makes Ed self-conscious. "Keep your eyes to your own damned self," he snaps. "It's just automail; haven't you ever seen automail before?"
Jack takes off his clothes, watching the boy carefully. He feels a certain awkwardness about trying to get the boy out of his clothes, but they can't sit around in the forest covered in blood; it'll attract predators. He dips his shirt in the water and rinses his hands, hoping the boy will get the idea and follow suit.
After a moment, Ed does. He strips off his coat, and his gloves, and his shirt, and Jack stares at him with a sick feeling in his belly. Ed can't be older than thirteen, and he's been mutilated. His right arm is missing, replaced by a steel prosthetic that's both ridiculously primitive (because who puts steel bolts into someone's collarbone?) and impressively advanced (because the thing moves like a real arm, a metal approximation of flesh and bone). There are ropy, pink scars around the prosthetic, but that's not even all of it. Ed's lower torso is a mess, a mass of puckered and twisted scar tissue that's definitely fresh by the color of it. There's a slice across his flesh shoulder that could only have come from a blade, and an impressive collection of bruises scattered over a body that's too thin, too toned for a child.
Ed catches him staring and snaps at him, turning to protect his body from Jack's view. Jack goes still, turns his face away, tries to focus on getting the blood out of his pants. He doesn't want to think about what kind of abuse the boy's suffered, what kind of life he leads to leave those marks on his body.
Ed stands, looking uncertain for a minute, and makes to wade into the river. Jack stops him, holding out a hand. There are leeches and worse in these rivers; it's not safe to wade if you don't have to. Ed sighs, and strips off his pants to wash them, and Jack realizes that he's lost his leg, too, scar tissue roping up from another steel prosthetic. Jack closes his eyes. He can't handle this- this wounded blond child, who's come from somewhere with torment carved into his flesh. Jack is still dirty with the blood of another child, and he shouldn't be here, it isn't right. But there's no one else, and the boy is swaying like he might fall again, and if Jack leaves him he will die, and that's the only thing more unbearable than staying with him.
Jack stands, steadies Ed with his hands. "Sit down," he tells him, gently. "Just sit down a minute. I'll wash your clothes." Ed doesn't understand, of course, but Jack pushes him to the ground gingerly, takes his clothes, and turns to the river bank. Jack will find a safe place for him to sleep, and find him food, and carry him back to civilization, and then- then, he'll see.
The stars are wrong.
The trees are too, but Ed notices the stars first. There are star charts in old alchemy books, books that use the patterns in the night sky as a code. The sky is clear over the river and, as he always does, Ed looks for the patterns. He doesn't find them. The stars are all different. That's when he notices the trees; the leaves like nothing he's ever seen before, not anywhere in Amestris. He's got a scientist's mind; weighing evidence, analyzing data. These data tell him that he's moved, that he's not in Amestris anymore, that Jack doesn't speak his language because probably no one speaks his language.
He has no idea where Al is, where Winry is, and no clue how he's going to get home, and time is still ticking down to the Promised Day.
Jack gives him his clothes back, damp but mostly clean. He dresses self-consciously. He hates being naked in front of a stranger like this. They're both guys, so it shouldn't be as awkward as it is, but Jack looks at him like he's going to be sick. It pisses Ed off. He knows he has scars, especially after that thing in Baschool. He knows he looks like a freak with his shirt off. He doesn't need this Jack bastard reminding him. Besides, he tells himself, they're battle scars. They make him look badass.
Once he's dressed, he jumps to his feet. Stupid move, apparently. Somewhere along the way, he's picked up what is probably a concussion. Everything spins, and Ed thinks he's going to throw up for a moment. Suddenly, Jack is there, holding him up, saying something in an urgent voice. Ed's legs refuse to support him anymore, and he falls, feeling the world move around him. Ed is so very tired. He knows he should stay awake, especially if he really does have a concussion, but everything is fuzzy and he just wants to sleep for a little while.
"Hey!" Jack says frantically, because the boy's eyes are rolling back into his head. "Stay with me! Stay with me, dammit!"
Ed's eyelids flutter, and his eyes finally focus. Jack breathes, relaxes a little. "Okay," he says, steadying himself. "Just take it easy, okay?" He leans Ed up against a tree, and peers into his eyes. They're gold-colored, and it has Jack wondering if Ed's not fully human. The boy grimaces and pushes Jack away after a minute, snapping something that sounds irritated. Jack doesn't blame him. He's far from home and in pain and disoriented and probably hungry. That's a bad day by anyone's standards.
"We're not going to make it any further until you've had some rest," he tells the boy. "Are you hungry?" He mimes eating. At least, he hopes it looks like eating.
Ed rolls his eyes, shrugs. He makes to stand, but Jack presses on his shoulder firmly- stay down. The boy slumps against the tree, looking defeated.
"I'll find you some food," Jack tells him, miming eating again. "Just stay here."
Ed fucking hates being helpless like this. When Jack's gone, he tries to get up again, and nearly falls. Fuck. How did he even get here? And what the hell was this Jack guy doing in what is apparently an endless forest? He wasn't soaked in blood like Ed had been, so he probably found Ed there. Where all the blood came from is another question- maybe part of Gluttony got caught up in whatever it was that brought Ed here?
Ed's head is spinning again. He leans back against the tree, his eyes closing without him meaning them to.
Ed's unconscious when Jack gets back, slumped against the tree. Jack keeps himself calm as he checks him over, but the boy's pulse and breathing are okay. Jack considers for a minute, and then packs away the food he gathered, and picks up the boy in his arms. Ed stirs, which is heartening. Only asleep, maybe, and not unconscious. Jack walks, heading towards the edge of the forest and people.
He walks for several hours, the boy a painful weight in his arms and back. Ed sleeps lightly, but never quite wakes up. Eventually, Jack stops, deciding that the time has come to check on the boy. "Ed," he says, shaking his arm. "Ed, wake up."
Ed groans, and shifts, and it takes two more tries before he can get the boy to open his eyes. Ed pulls himself shakily up. "Hungry?" Jack asks, offering the food he'd gathered before. Ed shrugs, takes the food, and eats. He drinks a little, when Jack passes him the canteen. He's looking pale, though, and Jack doesn't like it. When he's eaten, he tries to stand and walk. He stays up this time, and when Jack reaches out a hand to help, he shrugs it off. If he can walk, Jack will let him walk. Jack points in the direction of the nearest settlement, and they start moving.
Ed feels like throwing up. The food won't settle in his stomach. His automail holds the heat of this place, and it makes him hot, too. It's not the searing heat of the desert; it won't burn him. But he can't get cool, even when there's a tiny bit of breeze. He's wearing too many clothes, but he's afraid that uncovering the automail will only make things worse. He keeps walking, and he doesn't even know why, except that the man named Jack thinks this is the way they should go and Ed knows that he can't stay in this stupid, hot, wet forest, and he won't find the way out on his own. He has to find out what country he's in, has to find a way home. People are depending on him.
It's getting dark again now, and it's harder to keep his footing on the uneven ground. Ed trips, and Jack catches him before he hits the ground, saying something in that incomprehensible language of his. Jack sits down, mimes sleeping, points at him. Ed has to admit that he's tired. His head is killing him, and his arm and leg make him feel feverish. He curls up in the space Jack clears for him and falls asleep.
Watching Ed sleep is painful. The boy starts out curled up tightly, his posture defensive. As he slips deeper into sleep, though, he sprawls. He rolls onto his back, his legs splayed out, and his flesh hand creeping under his shirt to rest on his belly. It makes Jack wonder- looking at Ed's scars, he'd thought the boy must have come from a life of abuse, but the way that Ed's so unguarded in his sleep says something different.
Jack looks away. He's not going to sleep himself. Sitting will be enough to let his body recover from the long march, and someone's got to keep a watch. Predators don't usually go out of their way to attack humans in the forest, but that's no reason not to be cautious.
Jack is up when Ed comes awake, the morning light filtering green through the leaves. Ed wonders whether he's slept, but he doesn't look particularly tired. Ed points at him, mimes sleep, makes it a question. Jack shakes his head, points in the direction they'd been traveling before. He offers Ed more food- fruit and nuts- but doesn't eat himself. Ed tries to remember whether he's seen Jack eat, or sleep, or drink. Ed's used to traveling with a companion who never has to attend to his own body's needs, but Jack is flesh and blood. Still, Ed's not going to nag the man.
Ed eats a little, but he feels worse than he did yesterday. He's pretty sure he's got a fever now; he feels shaky and his head still hurts. He pulls himself to his feet and starts walking. The dizziness is back, but he ignores it.
They've been walking for maybe an hour when the spinning is too much for him. Ed drops to his knees and retches, everything he's eaten in the last day coming up. He keeps retching long after his stomach is empty, until he drops to the ground panting, his face hot and aching. Jack pulls him gently away from the pool of sick, touches his forehead, frowns. Ed's trembling, but he forces himself to his feet again. It's hard to remember what's going on, why he has to keep moving, but he knows he does. He barely makes it ten feet before his legs crumple under him. He's not unconscious, but he's shaking and suddenly he feels cold, which is insane in this heat.
Jack puts his arms around Ed and picks him up. It's still fucking humiliating, but Ed can't do much about it. Before long, sleep overcomes him again.
Jack walks. He stops several times, but Ed never wakes up, and Jack forces himself to keep moving. There's nothing Jack can do for him here in the forest, anyway. Ed's still out when Jack walks out of the tree-line and back into the human world.
This is a tiny backwater of a town. Jack knows there's no hospital, but at least there's a doctor. The townspeople stare at the Americano carrying an injured boy out of the forest. After a minute, though, a couple of them come up and take Ed out of his arms. Jack drops to his knees without quite meaning to, his body aching from the strain of carrying the boy and his metal limbs. One of the men from the town offers him a hand up. He hesitates, then takes it.
When he wakes up, Ed recognizes the color of the walls- white, like only hospital walls ever are. For a moment, he forgets the forest, the stars, the leaves. He even forgets that he hasn't seen his brother in months, that Winry is with Scar, and that everyone he loves will die in a few short months if he does nothing. He expects to see Al's hulking armored form sitting next to the bed, managing somehow to look long-suffering even without a face. He expects to hear him saying Brother, with that note of fear and relief in it. He expects to leave on another dead-end lead to the Philosopher's Stone, his brother at his side.
When Ed turns his head, though, he sees the man named Jack sleeping on a chair, and he remembers. Ed inspects himself. There's an IV, but nothing else attached to him. He's still wearing the same clothes, which surprises him a little. He feels better, though. When he sits up, the world stays still and so does his stomach.
Jack's eyes snap open, and he speaks more gibberish to Ed. Ed shrugs, not sure how to respond. He's hungry, and he has a million questions, and he wishes he had someone to answer them. The hunger at least he can probably do something about. He repeats the mime-eating gesture Jack made at him back in the forest, his eyebrows lifting hopefully. Jack stops talking, and nods. He gets up, leaving Ed alone.
Ed looks around the room. The room is sparkling clean, but the furniture is old. If this is a hospital, it's not an especially nice one. After a few minutes, Jack returns with a tray and a doctor, the white coat as familiar as the white walls. Ed submits to the doctor's prodding, and then eats the food. He doesn't know whether the weird tastes and textures are because it's hospital food or because it's foreign, but Ed eats everything anyway. The doctor seems to like that, because he nods to Jack and then leaves.
Jack looks at him for a long moment after the doctor's gone, and Ed doesn't know what to make of it. The look in his eyes reminds Ed of Mustang, a little.
When Ed's done eating, he passes out again. Jack watches him sleep for a little while, trying to work himself up to what he knows he needs to do. Finally, he tells the clinic's nurse to call him if the boy wakes up, and asks to borrow a phone.
The phone rings for a long time, but Jack knows that it's the signal bouncing satellites and dummy numbers. He waits. Finally, the person on the other end answers. "Hello?" Martha Jones says, her voice sleepy. Jack has no idea where she is in the world, but somewhere far enough away to be night, apparently.
"Hello," he says, quietly.
She's alert instantly. He knew she would be. "Oh, god, Jack," she says. "Where are you? Gwen called me weeks back trying to find you. God, I'm so sorry, you should have called me, you know I would have come-"
"I need a favor," he says, interrupting her. "I know you're not with UNIT anymore, but you still have contacts-"
"What do you need?" she asks, not pressing him.
"A translator," he answers. "And Martha... I might need you to make a phone call for me."
He doesn't need to tell her who he needs her to call. "Of course, Jack," she says. "What sort of translator? How soon?"
"Universal," he says. "As soon as you can get it to me." He pauses, then gives her his address.
"I'll have one out to you right away," she says. "Jack," she adds more hesitantly, "Do you want me to come out? Or... Gwen?"
"No," he says, firmly. "Please. Just send the translator. I'll be in touch if I need you to make that phone call."
"All right, Jack," Martha says, and then he hangs up.
Jack knows that Martha won't come, and he's grateful for it. If it had been Gwen he called, she would have been on the next plane no matter what he said. Martha, though, will do what he asks. She will send the translator, and while she will probably tell Gwen that she's heard from him, she won't tell her where he is. It's good. It's hard enough for Jack to look himself in the face without anyone else doing it, too.
It's barely three hours before a UNIT soldier half out of uniform shows up at the clinic with a small box. "O Dr. Jones me enviou," he says. "Você tem sorte que ela é sua amiga," he adds as he turns to leave. Jack agrees, even if he shouldn't have friends at all. He has a history of getting them killed.
Jack's still there when he wakes up again, but the IV is gone. Jack is holding something in his hands, and when he sees that Ed's awake, he hands it over. It's a small, black, pod-shaped thing, and Ed has no idea why Jack's given it to him. Jack points at the thing, points at Ed's ear, and Ed gets the idea that Jack wants him to put whatever it is in his ear, which is kind of insane. Jack's insistent, though, and he did save Ed's life in the forest, so Ed hesitantly does as he asks.
He's barely touched the thing to his ear canal before he can feel it burrowing inside. Ed screams, and he thinks he might throw up again, until he hears Jack talking. "Can you understand me now?" the older man says.
Ed looks up at him. "What the hell?" he asks. "What the fuck did you just have me put in my ear?"
Jack relaxes. "Sorry about that," he said. "Babelfish aren't the most comfortable translators out there, but beggars can't be choosers. Captain Jack Harkness," he says, holding out a hand.
Ed's mind spins- a device that can translate languages? He can't begin to think how you'd even start to build something like that. "Edward Elric," he says, shaking Jack's hand gingerly. "The Fullmetal Alchemist," he adds, because apparently they're doing ranks, and Ed's official title is badass, and he wants these strangers to know that he's a force to be reckoned with.
Jack just looks tired. "Can you tell me what planet you come from?" Jack asks.
"Planet?" Ed says, blankly. "I'm from the nation of Amestris."
"Never heard of it," Jack says. "You said you were an alchemist? What do you mean by that?"
Ed hadn't actually expected Jack to know his name, but he didn't think that he wouldn't know what Alchemy was. "Alchemy," Ed says, and claps his hands together. He presses them into the blanket, intending to transmute it into a fuzzy dragon by way of demonstration. Something's wrong, though, and he realizes it as soon as he activates the circle. Blue light sparks from his hands, but there's something disrupting the transmutation, and he can feel the energy snap back into him. Ed groans as it hits him. There's something wet on his face now. When he reaches up to his ears, his eyes, his nose, his fingers come away bloody.
Jack cries out, and then freezes. Ed's attention snaps to the older man. His eyes are glazed over, and his breathing is coming too fast. "Jack!" Ed snaps, wiping the blood away from his mouth. "You okay?"
Jack shakes himself. "What was that?" he says, too quietly.
Ed laughs, short and rueful. "Alchemy," he says, "Or it was supposed to be. Shit!" he says, wiping his face with the sheet. "I haven't had a backlash like that for years."
Jack hands him a handkerchief and looks away while he cleans himself up.
There's light, and then there's blood running down the boy's face, and it's happening again and Jack doesn't even know why-
Ed's voice snaps him out of the flashback, and Jack hates himself. He doesn't have the right to have flashbacks, to have trauma. He killed his grandson. He's not the victim here; he's the murderer.
Ed's sitting up in bed, thinking out loud, tracing circles on the bloodied sheets. "I think the energy signatures aren't compatible," he says, thoughtfully. "I was trying to draw on energy that wasn't there, and the reaction took the equivalence from my body- but that would mean-" he turns to Jack, frowning. "Where am I?" he says.
Jack clears his throat. He's given this speech more times than he remembers. "There are rifts," he says, "In time and space. You were swallowed by one. I'm not sure how far away from home you are, but you're on a planet called Earth."
"What the hell are you saying?" Ed asks, coldly.
"You're on a different world," Jack tells him.
"How do I get back?" Ed asks. "I have to get back!" He's frantic, determined, his gold eyes burning.
Jack asks the question he knows he shouldn't, because he has to know. "Are you sure you want to?" His eyes flick to Ed's chest. "I don't know what happened to you there, but I saw how someone hurt you. You could be safe here."
Ed's fist snaps out faster than Jack can react, and the boy knows how to throw a punch. Jack goes down, grabbing his jaw. "What the hell do you know?" Ed shouts, and he's on his feet now, looking down at Jack. "I'm not some child. This was my choice!" he says, gesturing at his body. "My pride, my mistake! And this is nothing, not compared to what happened to my little brother. Who's back in Amestris, and needs me. So if you know a way to get me back home, you damn well better tell me what it is and stop trying to protect me." He spits the words like a curse.
It's not the first time Ed's lost his temper and punched someone. He regrets it almost immediately; Jack might be acting like an idiot, but he's only trying to help. He doesn't expect the man to just lie there on the ground like he never intends to get up, tears leaking out of his eyes.
"Jack?" Ed says, after a moment. He nudges the older man with a toe. "I didn't hit you that hard, idiot. Get up."
He doesn't. He doesn't react at all until Ed leans down and looks him in the face. It isn't even red where Ed hit him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks.
Jack laughs, pulls himself up. "Sorry," he says. "I haven't been myself lately. It's nothing to do with you."
"Then why do you keep looking at me like you're seeing a ghost?" Ed snaps. He hasn't missed the way Jack keeps watching him.
Jack smiles, and it still doesn't reach his eyes. "I had a little brother once," he says. "I let him down. We better get you back to yours as soon as we can." He stands up. "I think I know a way for you to get home. Let me make a phone call."
When he returns to the room, he's wearing a long wool coat that's ridiculous in the heat. "I sent a message," he tells Ed. "To get you a ride home. I'll stay until he gets here."
They wait. Ed doesn't ask Jack what the hell is wrong with him, and Jack doesn't ask him anymore questions about his past.
After a while, there's a strange, low grinding noise in the distance. Jack stands, his blue eyes filled with longing and shame. "That's your ride," he says. "Good luck, Edward Elric."
Ed doesn't understand, but he shakes Jack's hand when he offers it.
"Don't tell him I was here," Jack says, and then he's gone.
A few minutes later, a tall, skinny man in a suit pops his head in. "Hello," he says, with a grin. "Are you Edward? My friend Martha asked me to come, as a personal favor. Allons-y."
It's not enough. One boy doesn't make up for the hundreds of lives destroyed by the rifts that Jack's never been able to fix. It doesn't even begin to pay for Steven.
Gwen told me to tell you that she's found something of yours, Martha told him, when he called. She's got it waiting for you, in Cardiff.
Jack knows what it is: his ticket off this world. He's done with this planet. Time to go somewhere where there are no blond-haired boys to remind him of what he's done. He's going to keep on running until somehow, somewhen, it's not his face in the mirror anymore.
Greed and Ling work together to find him, two fields over from their fight with Gluttony, sitting on the ground and staring at the sky.
"You okay, kid?" Lion-King asks him. "There was that light, and then Gluttony sort of exploded, and we didn't know where you were."
"Yeah," Ed said, thoughtfully. "I'm okay."