This is the new version of ATF that I've been working on- the one that I've actually got an ending to. I was going to put it all up at once, but then I decided to put it up in chunks. This version is, in my opinion, much better, but I can leave the original up if you guys want me to. Unfortunately, I am rather bad at reading minds and won't know what you want me to do unless you tell me. To this end, there is a poll up asking if you want the original stuff to be left up or taken down.
Remember: Ed/Edward Elric is from Amestris. Eduard Ehlerick is the Earthling. You should be able to figure out the other Alternates as well, but Ed will be the only character who has both characters showing up. Oh, and there's a twist in this version. I'm going to have some fun with it, but y'all won't know until I've got the other bits up.
He was alive. This was surprising. Why?
His limbs were missing. This was important, the fact had some sort of significance, but his fuzzy mind couldn't place it.
He was on a porch, but how had he gotten here? Where was 'here' anyway? He knew he shouldn't be anywhere-
"Who the hell are you?"
He looked up, struggling to focus his mind through the pain and bloodloss and nausea and- he slumped lower against the wall behind him (when had it gotten there?) and noticed distantly that his train of thought was acting a bit like a trackless train on a frozen lake up by Briggs he'd seen once.
"Holy shit, kid," The man said, his face pale with horror, even worse against the darkness of the night beyond his face. "What happened to you?"
"Wher'm I?" He asked, the words slurring despite his best efforts. "Whr's Al?"
"Hang on, Kid," the man said worriedly, pulling his shirt over his head and pressing it to Ed's bleeding shoulder. "I'm gonna get you some help. You just hang in there, alright?"
"Need- Need Granny," he said, blinking his eyes in a feeble attempt to focus. "s Al okay?"
"Pat!" The man called loudly, not even looking up from Ed. Why? What was wrong? "Pat, call an ambulance!"
"Kid! Kid!" The man was slapping his face, his eyes wide. Had something happened? "You need to stay awake for me, kid. I need you to stay awake, can you do that?"
"I-" He swallowed thickly, his throat unusually dry for some reason, "I'll try."
"Good, good," The man said, his face pale with relief. "An ambulance will be here soon- the hospital is only fifteen miles from here, I need you to stay awake until it gets here, alright?"
"Sure thing, Bast'rd," he said, rolling his head for a better look at the man's pale face and dark hair.
"Hah, okay, kid," The man said, "A sense of humor is good. Don't you dare pass out on me. Can you tell me your name?"
"You need me to tell you?" He asked, wrinkling his eyes in confusion. "Get hit in th' head or somethin'?"
The man let out a familiar sigh of irritation and scowled.
"Just work with me, Kid, the medics will be here soon."
"Ed," he said, feeling a corner of his mouth pull itself upward of its own accord, "Elric. Got s'm water?"
"Yeah, but you've gotta keep talking to me, okay?"
"K-kay, Mustang." He nodded weakly as the man looked meaningfully at someone he hadn't noticed, and only just managed to catch a brief glimpse of a long skirt as someone hurried away.
"You have any family, Ed?" The man asked, glancing down briefly.
"Why're you askin' me stuff you- you alr'dy know?" Ed asked, his mind refusing to put together the pieces.
"We can talk about that later, just answer my questions for now, alright?" The man asked. There was fear in his voice. Shit. There was fear in his voice.
"How- how bad's it?" He asked, his voice shaking for the first time. Why couldn't he feel his legs?
"I've seen worse," the man said.
"Liar," Ed said breathily, with a rough laugh. "Worse'n th' first time?"
"Fine, kid, I have seen worse. But not on a civilian child."
"Not a kid, Bast'rd." Ed grinned toothily at the man.
"No," the man said, "I don't suppose you are. Why do you keep calling me that?"
"'S true. 'n uselss in th' rain, too."
The man's eyebrows rose slowly.
"You know me?" He asked quietly.
"'Course I do, Coln'l, y're-" Ed mumbled as the man turned to accept a glass from-
Oh.
That explained a lot.
He swallowed obediently as Mustang held the glass gently to his lips and tipped it for him, before handing it back to his mother.
He felt the tears brewing in his eyes as he looked at her and his heart sank with understanding. He abandoned the previous conversation, instead desperately locking his eyes on her.
"'m sorry," he mumbled, only now fighting to stay awake. He had to tell her, she had to understand. "'m s'ry, Mom, I didn' mean t' leave Al."
"Honey?" Mustang looked at his mother, clearly confused, and she stumbled to lean against a chair.
"Dear Lord," she murmured, "What is happening?"
"This's hell," Ed slurred again. "Didn' mean t' die, Mom."
He leaned his head back against the wall and allowed his vision to fade despite Mustang's frantic attempts to keep him alert. Despite his mother's sobs from the other end of the room.
He was already dead- what did he have to lose?
It was just a pity that Mustang had lost. He'd really expected the old man to win. Damn Bastard.
THISISALINEBREAKIHAVEMADEBUTTHATFFNDOESNOTWANTTOLETMEHAVE
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
A hospital.
He knew this instinctively. Even before he smelled the antiseptic, felt the cold and the scratch sheets on his skin, saw the light behind his eyelids. He knew it as he knew his automail limbs were missing, as he knew that he would do anything for his younger brother. He knew hospitals the way he knew sweat and blood and adrenaline, the way he knew alchemy and the blood on the inside of Al's suit and the sound of a too young voice echoing inside a suit made of metal.
He knew it as well as the groan that forced its way past his lips and the aching of his stumps.
"He's awake!" A voice cried, accompanied by hurried steps away. "Nurse, he's awake!"
It seemed like forever before a pair of footsteps entered the room, and the cloth was moved from over his eyes. He didn't open them. A moment later it was back, the wetness of the cloth pleasant on his face.
"Can you hear me?" A woman asked gently.
"Nngh." He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He forced his head to move up and down in vague confirmation. His body was thick and heavy, his mind unwilling to cooperate and his lungs struggling for air. "Nungh!"
"Easy," the nurse said, "You're alright, you're in the hospital, we're taking care of you."
"Can't- air," he forced out, struggling to keep his chest moving steadily despite the breathlessness that made him want to gasp for air and maybe pass out.
The nurse did something- he could hear her shifting and feel some piece of equipment, cold against his skin, before she touched his left shoulder gently.
"You're getting enough oxygen, if just feels like you aren't. You were in surgery a while, it's a side effect of the anesthesia, alright?"
He forced himself to nod as cloth was wrapped around his upper arm. A blood pressure cuff? His suspicions were confirmed as the cloth- covering plastic, he noticed then- inflated and then relaxed.
"Can you tell me how you feel?" The nurse asked, unwrapping the cuff. "How much pain are you in?"
"C'n deal w'th pain," He said breathlessly. "Don' give me pain meds. Cold, though. Blanket?"
A weight lay itself down over his legs, then the rest of his body.
"You've lost two limbs," the nurse said, the frown clear in her voice, "it's not a good idea for you not to be off of the pain medicine."
"No meds," he repeated stubbornly, fighting to raise his arm to the cloth covering his face.
"I can give you a lower dose, if you like," she said gently, placing her hand over his in a quiet message to him.
"The minimum?" He asked.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, I can do that for you."
"Thanks," he murmured, not resisting the river that wanted to guide his mind in so many directions, "need th' pain. Gotta… stay focused."
The nurse squeezed his hand again as he fell into a doze.
He never heard the quiet crying from beside the bed.
WHYDOESFFNNOTWANTMETOHAVEMYLINEBREAKS?
Lucidity in wakefulness was a blessing, he thought as he left behind the dreams of screams and blood, sickness and death. The smell of antiseptic and the aching of his stumps was refreshing, gave him clarity of mind and something to hold onto.
He forced his arm to move, relishing the burn in the muscles as he pushed the cloth higher on his forehead, uncovered his eyes. He blinked several times to clear the blurriness. He looked around the room slowly, letting his eyes adjust on the woman in the chair by the bed.
"Am I still drugged up?" He asked, frowning.
"They reduced the dose significantly," she said. "At the moment you only have enough in your system to keep the edge off the pain."
He frowned. "And how much is that supposed to be? I'm seeing dead people."
"What do you mean?"
"You died when I was nine, Mom," He said with a wry smile. "I'm either hallucinating or dead myself."
"What?" She asked, startled.
"I missed you, you know."
"What- how? You never even met me!" She stared in astonishment at the boy before her, his golden eyes shining fondly back at her.
"You're my mother," he said, smiling sadly. "How could I not?"
"How did you find me?" She asked quietly.
"I didn't," he said with a shrug. "All I remember is the last fight. And then giving myself up for Alphonse."
"Oh, God," She said, her face pale with horror, "Someone kidnapped you? Why would they bring you to me? How did they know where I live?"
"No clue," he said softly, looking at her fondly. "Where am I?"
"A hospital outside of London," she said quietly.
"London?" He asked, blinking. "How- ah, Hell," he muttered, rubbing his forehead and laughing bitterly.
"What's wrong?" She asked, clearly struggling not to cry.
"Well," he said with a wry smile, "I'm a whole world away from where I'm supposed to be. Say, you know of a guy called Hohenheim?"
"No," she said, puzzled, "Should I?"
"Don't worry about it." He shook his head wearily. "I take it you're the one who…found me? No, you said I was at your house. Any idea how that happened?"
"My husband found you outside our house the night before last. He's at work right now. Please, Edward- what happened to you?"
Ed looked at her for a long, painful moment, then smiled bitterly.
"You look so much like her it hurts," He said eventually, his voice rough. She didn't answer, allowing him to look at her adoringly for another long minute before he lowered his head into his hand. "But you aren't my mother. I'm sorry, but I'm- I'm not your son."
"What do you mean?" She asked, blinking tears out of her eyes. "Why are you saying this?"
"Because it's true," He said, his throat dry and his eyes moist. "I- I didn't mean to, but the zepplen, it- it came down on me, and I wasn't able to move, and then- then-"
He broke off, shuddering as he was suddenly enveloped by fire and heat and pain and a pair of warm, gentle arms.
He shuddered in her embrace as she hugged him gently. "I killed him, it's my fault," he said brokenly. "I wasn't able to move quick enough and I was in his body, and I couldn't do anything. I killed your son- I'm sorry, sosorry."
"Shhh, it's alright," She murmured, hugging him tightly. "I've got you now. You're here, with me, it's alright now, Edward."
"It's not alright," he insisted, raising his eyes to meet hers, "I killed him, you don't understand."
He choked the words out and looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
"Sweetheart," she said softly, moving his chin to look him in the eyes gently, "It wasn't your fault."
He stared at her, hardly breathing for what felt like an eternity as he absorbed the words that he had secretly longed to hear since he was eleven years old and stupid beyond belief, since he was nine years old and terrified, since he was four and his mommy was lonely, so lonely it hurt.
He clutched her with his one arm and sobbed.
THISISTHETHIRDTIMEIHAVEPUTINLINEBREAKSANDI'MGETTINGANNOYED
"Are you feeling better?" Pat asked, returning to the chair by her son's bed and pulling her knitting from its basket to rest in her lap as she worked.
"I'm fine," he muttered, not looking at her.
"Good," she said, forcing a smile.
"Right," He snorted, "Why do you keep coming here? It's not like you owe me anything."
"You're my son," She said softly, feeling the ache settle back in her chest the way it did every time she visited. "I don't think I could stay away if I wanted to."
"No I'm not," he said seriously, "I just look like him. Your kid is dead. A zeppelin dropped on top of him. A burning zeppelin."
His golden eyes burned into her as he looked up for the first time in the conversation. Something inside of her twisted at the look in his eyes, and she wasn't sure if she was actually glad that he'd decided to look up at her. The clicking of her needles quieted as she rested her hands in her lap and looked him firmly in the eyes.
"You're safe now," she said gently, "you're going to be alright, now. My husband Roy works for the military; he can protect us."
Her son snorted derisively, his eyes the same as his father's, but the expression on his face was something she'd never seen before. It was something dark, something…hopeless, she decided.
"Not if I'm around," he spat. "I'm toxic, lady. You stick around me and you'll wind up dead or worse."
"Oh, Edward," she murmured. Pat forced back the tears that made her vision swim and resisted the rawness in her throat. "I'll love you no matter what happens."
"No you won't," he said calmly, turning back to face the ceiling, "You don't need to pretend to care- I deserve all the hate you can muster and more."
"Never," she murmured quietly. This was the baby she had given up so many years, had loved all along. It wasn't even possible for her to hate him.
She checked the clock briefly- the nurse hadn't come to tell her visiting hours were over, yet. She resumed her knitting, humming quietly as she worked. Winter was approaching quickly, and her son would soon feel the chill of the approaching winter despite the hospital's best efforts.
She would stay here until the nurse came to escort her out, because her baby was sitting in a hospital bed with nothing but a book and his own tortured mind.
ITHINKIJUSTGOTLOSTWHILEPUTTINGINTHESELINEBREAKSWHYME?
He keeps insisting he isn't my son," Patricia Murtagh told her husband quietly, pushing the rice on her plate with her fork.
"You're sure he is, though?"
"He has to be!" She cried. "He looks exactly like his father did! His name is Edward, he has a brother named Alfons- it's him, Roy, it has to be!"
He rose from the table and walked around to her side to embrace her tightly.
"Could it be that he feels that he's no longer the same person?" He asked, his dark eyes staring into hers. "He keeps telling you stories of another world, right? He was obviously kidnapped; maybe he created this world for himself after whatever it was that did this to him."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," he said slowly, "He keeps saying he died. In his mind, maybe he did. You saw him that night, he was apologizing for leaving Alfons. Maybe he feels guilty for whatever happened, thinks he should be dead. It's an older brother's responsibility to protect his little brother, but he can no longer fill that role. That part of him is dead now, and maybe he thinks that's all he was. He no longer knows who he is, what he should do. He needs time to figure it out, to adjust. He needs to see that he can still be useful, that he can be an older brother still."
"But what can I do? I never wanted to let those boys go in the first place, but their father was dead and I was sick, and-!"
"Easy, Pat," He said, rubbing her back gently. "It's alright, don't do this to yourself. You gave those boys the best shot in the world you could, and that's all there is to it. None of this is your fault, okay?"
"But if he was with me, he wouldn't have been kidnapped, and he would still have his limbs, and-"
She covered her mouth with her hand as a sob escaped.
"Shhh, they wouldn't have even made it this far if you hadn't let them go, Pat." Roy wiped her face gently with his thumbs and pulled her close to him. "You did everything for them that you could. You let them go- that's the hardest choice you ever could have made."
"He's lost, Roy," she mumbled into his shoulder, "He's lost inside of his own mind and I can't do anything at all, because I don't know him well enough to be able to pull him out and never have. I was never even there to begin with."
"Sweetheart…" he said quietly, hugging her gently. "I've been thinking. He mentioned a man named Hohenheim once, right? After he found out we're near London?"
She looked up and nodded quietly.
"I could try to find him. I have connections through my work with the army, I could ask around and try to find him. Having someone familiar, someone he knows, might help him. This Hohenheim may even be able to help find Alfons, or tell us what happened to Edward."
"Thank you, Darling." She wiped her eyes and nodded gratefully. "You always know what to do, don't you?"
"It comes with the job," He said, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Have you taken your medicine tonight?"
"I'll do it now. Do you really think you can find this man?"
"Yes. I've heard the name before, but I can't place it. I'm sure someone will be able to help us."
"I love you, you know that?" She smiled weakly up at him.
"Oh, yeah?"
"More and more and more every day."
"You're wonderful." He smiled and reached down to help her to her feet. "And we'll figure it out."
"We always do, don't we?"
He guided her to their room, his hand hovering cautiously near her waist in case she should collapse again. He'd nearly lost her once. He had no intentions of letting it happen again.
IREALLYWISHTHATFFNWOULDALLOWMETHISPLEASUREOFREALLINEBREAKS
Pat forced herself to continue humming quietly as she worked on her knitting, slowly working the yarn into a sweater. Her son was sleeping now, rather than refusing to look at her the way he had been for the past week. He was just as stubborn as his father had been, she thought sadly. It was an old ache now, and one she knew would never completely fade.
If only she had kept the boys, when she had given birth to them. Perhaps they would all be together now, as a family, rather than Edward as broken as he was and Alfons in some location Heaven only knew where.
She still didn't understand why or how Edward had finally shown up on her step after so many years, or who had decided to bring him to her. What did it mean?
She sighed, then quickly silenced herself as Edward shifted in his sleep with a small noise of discomfort. She sat in silence for a long moment, then relaxed as his eyes remained closed. He whimpered again, a strange sound from the boy she had come to see as strong despite his missing limbs.
He tossed his head, grimacing, and she frowned quietly. The signs of a nightmare were easy to identify, but she could never tell what they were about, and he consistently refused to enlighten her.
"Mom." The word was a quiet moan, quickly followed by another whimper, this time of fear. "No."
She put down her knitting and moved from her chair to wake him. He could block her out all he wanted, but she would not allow him to suffer if she could do anything about it. His skin was hot when she put her hand on his shoulder and shook it lightly.
"No!" He cried, his eyes snapping open wildly. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated, his mouth dropping open and his face turning white as he took in her worried face hovering over him. "No!" He cried again, jerking away from her and throwing up a hand to protect himself.
"Ah!" Trisha stumbled backwards in surprise, dropping into the chair as it hit the back of her knees.
There was a long moment where they simply looked at each other, he in horror and her in surprise, until his face shifted in recognition and a bitter grimace twisted his face.
"Sorry," he muttered quietly as he looked away once more.
She didn't swear.
She was a proper lady, who did not curse.
But what the hell had those bastards done to her son?
She didn't realize she'd voiced her thoughts until his sharp bark of laughter split the silence.
ISTHISAREALLINEBREAK?NOITISNOTBECAUSEFFNDOESNOTWANTMETOHAVETHEM
"How you doing, kid?"
"Go away, asshole." Ed glared at the tall, black haired man who kept visiting his cramped hospital room. Dealing with the woman who had his mother's eyes and voice and smell was difficult enough without knowing that she'd somehow wound up married to his boss. Not his boss. Never that.
This was only the man here, this wasn't the Flame Alchemist, this wasn't the Bastard Colonel who'd watched over him for so long, it wasn't Roy Mustang the womanizer. It was only someone who looked like him.
"She didn't want to give you boys up, you know. She's agonized for years over whether it was the right decision, but she couldn't take care of you. Your father had died and she was…ill."
"Dying," Ed said quietly. "Don't cushion it. She was dying."
Roy nodded heavily. "The first time she collapsed, I was terrified. I had no idea what to do. She nearly didn't make it."
"She didn't." Ed muttered, not looking at the man's face.
"What do you mean?" Roy asked.
"She died. My real mother." He scowled as a gentle hand grabbed his own.
"Leave your shoulder alone, Edward." The man said. Edward. Not Fullmetal.
"You think you get to tell me what to do?" He snorted derisively.
"What happened to you?" The man asked, leaning forward solemnly. "What really happened to you?"
"You wouldn't believe me," Ed muttered. "I hardly even believe it myself."
"I can try," the man countered, "Don't blow me off before you even know me."
Edward watched the man quietly for a long minute, then his lip quirked upward.
"You think you know everything, don't you, Bastard?" His eyes grew dark and the smile fell away as he abruptly remembered that no, this was not Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist. He cursed quietly at the brief lapse. This was going to be hell.
"Not everything, just most of it. Certainly more than you, kid."
"I'm not a kid," Ed scowled.
"No, I don't suppose you are," Roy mused, "Just a pipsqueak."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE COULD USE BACTERIA AS POOL FLOATS AND SCIENTISTS WOULD BE SURPRISED BECAUSE HE'S IN THE MICROSCOPE?!"
The man's eyebrows shot into his hairline as Ed lunged at him, impressively mobile for a boy missing two limbs, spitting insults and glaring fiercely as he fell short of his target.
Roy lunged forward to catch the teenager, searing fluently all the while.
"Damnit, Edward!" He exclaimed furiously, praying the youth hadn't reopened his wounds. "Don't you have any self-control at all? What the hell do you think would happen if you got an infection because you were too stupid to stay in the bed!?"
"Nothing would happen!" Ed snapped furiously, turning red. "Nothing at all!"
The older man stiffened as though he had been slapped.
"You don't know a damn thing, do you Edward?" Roy hissed furiously, face cold with rage. "Do you realize that your mother feels like maybe she's gotten a chance for the first time in nearly two decades? Do you realize that she's gotten her son back when she thought she would never see him again? You are a selfish brat if you can't comprehend what you showing up at our house has done."
"I am not her son!" Edward roared, jerking away. "My mother is dead!"
"Maybe," Roy hissed darkly, "Maybe you're just a boy who looks exactly like her missing son, maybe you just have every damn feature on that father's face, but are you going to be the one who tells her that she hasn't gotten her second chance? Do you want to do that to her? Stomp on her heart right at the moment she thinks it's been healed? If you aren't her son, then who are you?"
Edward looked away and refused to answer him.
"Answer me, damnit!" Roy bellowed, his face twisted in rage. "Are you really willing to destroy the woman who loves you more than anything in her life?!"
"No." Edward glared darkly at the image of his commanding officer. "I already did it."
Roy looked at the darkness in the boy's eyes and felt his heart turn to ice.
"What did you do?" He murmured.
"I've watched my mother die every night for the last ten years. I've heard my mother's screams more times than I can count," Edward hissed, "I've endured her asking why I killed her thousands of times. Do you know how it feels to have a monster in your mother's body try to kill you? To come after your baby brother? Do you know what it feels like to have to feel her screams echo in your bones as you kill her to save the one person in the world that you can't lose!"
Roy's face was pale with horror, but Edward continued relentlessly, his face a mask of fury.
"Do you know how it feels, when you have your half-brother stick his hand through your chest!? To have your baby brother watch as you die, screaming your name as he realizes that you will never wake up! DO NOT TELL ME THAT I SHOULD BE ABLE TO FACE ANOTHER WOMAN WITH MY MOTHER'S FACE!"
Edward panted with fury as he finished his rant, not even noticing the horror on Roy's face as his shoulders began to shake, tears of fury spilling from his eyes.
He couldn't go through it again. He couldn't lose her again.
He didn't resist when Roy pulled him close, wrapped him in a hug, and allowed him to simply cry in the way he hadn't since before his mother's death.
Losing her a fourth time would kill him.
I'MSORRYTHEREAREN'TANYSPACESINMYLINEBREAKSBUTIALREADYPOSTEDTHIS
"Who is Hohenheim?" Roy asked, leaning back in his chair.
"How do you know that name?" Edward asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"You asked Pat about him," Roy said, a corner of his mouth stubbornly pushing its way up, "Or are you suffering from short term memory loss, Edward?"
"That's long term memory, idiot, and fuck you very much," Edward scowled, "And call me Ed."
"Ed?" Roy asked, feeling the name as he said it. "Am I finally getting through to you?"
"As if," Ed snorted, "but…people who call me by my full name are generally trying to kill me. Puts me on edge."
"Ah." What did one say to that, Roy wondered? What was the proper response to the blunt reminder of the things a young boy had been forced to endure, the trauma that showed in the way he constantly watched the exits, the twitchiness, the wariness in his eyes each time a nurse entered? "So, who is he?"
"My bastard father," Ed spat, scowling fiercely again. "But I don't know what else to do."
"You could stay with us," Roy offered quietly, frowning lightly when Ed snorted lightly. "Really, we'd love to have you. Do you know where you were before… you were taken?"
"You can't help me," Ed said quietly, "I'm not sure if it's even possible for me to get back home."
"Do you know what happened to Alfons, then?" Roy asked. "We could try to find him, at least. I have influence, I can make sure he's taken care of, maybe even bring him here if you like."
That bitter smile twisted Ed's face again as the boy stared into space for a long minute before shaking his head.
"You can't find him. Nobody can."
"Don't underestimate me, Ed," Roy said quietly. "You might be surprised by this, but I do actually have a decent sphere of influence."
"I'm not surprised," Ed said, smiling strangely, "You're a smooth talking bastard and I know it. What do you do, anyway?"
"I work for the military dealing with cases that few other people are equipped to investigate." Roy blinked when Ed started laughing loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. "And what's so funny?"
"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," Ed said, still chuckling. "Why were you asking about Hohenheim, though?"
"Because I've finally managed to find him," Roy said. "For a man who serves as an advisor for Winston Churchill, he's surprisingly difficult to track down."
"You called him?" Edward asked, his good mood evaporating. "He's had a lot of practice hiding from people, though. I'm not surprised he's managed to keep a low profile. When's the bastard getting here?"
"He should be here by tomorrow morning, sooner if he was as excited by the fact that you're alive as he sounded. I did ask about Alfons, but he didn't seem to know where he was. I'm sorry."
"Thanks," Ed said quietly.
Roy nodded silently.
"Can you tell me who did this to you?" He asked finally, glancing at Ed. "I can't catch the bastards unless I get information about them, and you're the only one who knows anything."
"They won't be hurting anyone else, I think," Ed said grimly, then smiled savagely.
"I need to know, Ed," Roy said seriously. "I need to know what kind of people take a seventeen year old boy and cut off his limbs. I need to know what the hell they were doing to you. You have scars that are years old, and they're the type that suggest you've been fighting for your life the entire time."
Ed didn't say anything, simply sat in silence as he leaned forward and continued grimly.
"Everything I know, everything I've seen of you suggests that you were held in captivity, fighting, since you were twelve years old. That means that there is an organization doing this, and that means money and influence. I need to bring these bastards down before any other kids are taken. If you don't want to do it for yourself, fine, but do it for those kids. Help me bring these bastards down and protect other kids, like Alfons or the little girl in the room down the hall."
"Bastard," Ed hissed, his face suddenly red and furiously, "do not bring her into this, I will kill you."
"That's my point, Edward," Roy said grimly. "I'm pretty sure you have the ability to kill me, right now, right here. I'm willing to bet you'd do it, too. If you think that people saying your name means that someone is going to kill you and that you need to fight, that tells me that you have been so deeply indoctrinated that there is not a chance in Hell that I'm going to let this go before I bring down every single bastard who ran this thing."
He met Ed's surprised gaze evenly and did not back down even as the boy worked his jaw in search of a response. The standoff continued until Ed sighed and lowered his head, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"Have you told her what you just told me?"
"No," Roy said, "I don't think she needs to know. It would only hurt her."
"Good," Ed said, relaxing marginally. "But I'm one of a kind."
"I'm supposed to believe that?" Roy demanded. "Nobody would take just one boy to train in gladiator fights or whatever the hell they were making you do!"
"Believe it, Mustang- Murtagh," Ed hissed, "Because it's true. Don't expect any others to be showing up like I did."
"Who is Mustang?" The man asked, his voice low.
Ed looked away but refused to answer.
"Why do you know my rank?" He pressed, his eyes cold and angry. Ed pressed his lips together silently.
"How did they know where to drop you off?" Ed closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe steadily.
"Answer me, damnit!" Roy barked.
"Sir!" They both looked over to the door, where a nurse had her lips pursed together and her eyebrows angled sharply downward. "If you do not stop harassing my patient, I will have to ask you to leave."
Roy took a breath and nodded slowly before turning back to Ed. "Is my wife in danger or not?" There was a dangerous note in his voice that spoke volumes.
"No," Ed said quietly.
"I will figure out what's going on with you, kid," Roy said as he rose from his chair.
"You can try," Ed shrugged. Roy didn't turn around again, and the door clicked shut after a breath.
Ed leaned back and looked at the ceiling. If he were in Amestris, he'd be moving by now. He'd have already had time to get fresh automail installed, and Winry would probably have been able to put it all together days ago.
What was up with this world? Didn't they have any decent technology? He snorted in amusement. But seriously, the bastard's clone was starting to piss him off with the third-degree. What was he supposed to say, "I got a little bit dimensionally lost, lend me a hand?" "Can you give me a little bit of magic, please, to send me to my home planet?" "I'm an alien, take me to your leader?"
He snorted again. He hadn't even believed in alternate dimensions or whatever this was two weeks ago. Then again, two years ago he hadn't believed in Homunculi. That had ended well.
He glanced at the history book his mom- Pat, rather- had let him borrow and frowned. He'd better not do that. These people didn't seem to know anything about aliens, and they apparently felt it necessary to hunt down anything and everything that even might be related to magic. Even if alchemy was a science, he wasn't about to submit himself to torture and probable dissection.
Roy could worry all he liked. Nobody else was going to show up the way he had, so it was fine.
He ignored the part of him that wondered what would happen if the authorities were to catch wind of his existence. He already knew, after all.
He slipped into a fitful doze, noting distantly that someone was sitting in the chair by his bed and that he hadn't noticed them arrive.
INEEDTOHURRYORSOMEONEWILLSTARTWONDERINGWHEREMYLINEBREAKSARE
"Edward?"
His father's face was pale and worried, his hair mussed and bags hanging under his eyes. Good, he thought sourly. Let the old man lose sleep for once in his life. The bastard wanted to live forever? Well he could have nightmares for eternity.
"Hohenheim," Ed scowled, resisting the urge to simply call the older man Bastard. He may hate the man- with good reason- but it was a bad idea to be curse someone out and then ask for their help. Even if he wasn't about to ask for it.
"I thought you were dead." His father's voice was full of relief and amazement, his shoulders relaxing as though they'd lost a heavy burden. The man still refused to move closer, though, still hovered at the doorway like he didn't know if Ed would welcome his presence.
"Yeah?" Ed asked with false lightness. "You probably had the time of your life. No kids to worry about, no wife waiting at home, nothing but yourself. Sounds like a dream." By the time he'd finished, the acid in his voice was almost tangible.
His father sighed and accepted the spiteful words.
"Why did you ask for me?" He asked eventually.
"I didn't," Ed said. "I asked if they knew of you, then they apparently decided to track you down. Sorry to drag you away from your cozy job with the leaders of the country, but you don't need to be here."
"Please, Edward," Hohenheim said, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Not unless you know how to open dimensional rifts," Ed said sarcastically.
Hohenheim frowned and opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.
"No," he said slowly, "but I did learn a bit about automail from Pinako, some years ago. I couldn't do anything fancy, and it would be rather crude, but I might be able to give you rudimentary prosthetics."
Edward's jaw dropped and he stared at the old man for a long minute as he struggled to regain the ability to speak properly.
"Are you offering-?"
"I am," Hohenheim said, nodding solemnly. "If you would like me to, I will build you a pair of limbs and perform the surgery to install the ports. It won't be nearly as good as you're used to, but it should at least give you basic functionality and allow you much better mobility than anything these people have."
"Why would you do this for me?" Edward asked, his eyes narrowed.
"You're my son," Hohenheim said evenly.
"Bull," Ed spat. "If you care so much about family, you would have gone home years ago. Instead, you hid away and traveled. What's the real reason?"
"I care about you," Hohenheim sighed.
"Whatever," Ed snorted, "fine. But I don't want your charity- I'll pay you for the automail. How long should it take?"
I'MRUNNINGOUTOFTHINGSTOSAYABOUTMYMISSINGLINEBREAKS
Roy stared at the papers before him, scratching his head. There was no record of an Edward Elric anywhere. Eduard Ehlerick existed, and looked a great deal like the boy who'd shown up outside his door, but clearly wasn't the same person.
It could have been him in disguise, except that Eduard was taller than Edward and had a different eye color. He was also currently admitted at a hospital on the other side of London.
His next thought was that perhaps this was Alfons, Eduard's brother- except that Alfons had been the one he'd asked after when he was bleeding out, and there was no record of an Alfons Ehlerick ever living anywhere in London. He had apparently been at an orphanage a few cities over until he'd been adopted, but there the trail went dead.
It could be him- except that again, the hair and eye color were different. The hair could have been dyed, admittedly, but his roots would be showing by now, and eyes couldn't change.
He grabbed his mug, scowling harder when he noticed it was empty.
There was something weird going on here. This boy was neither Eduard nor Alfons Ehlerick. A relation, then? Possible, but only distantly. Pat didn't have any siblings and she claimed that her first husband hadn't, either.
Also, why would the boy take Pat's maiden name rather than that of her husband, if that were the case? It made no sense.
But then, there was also the other option. The one that would explain quite a bit, even if it created a number of new questions. He would have to hope that wasn't the case, though, because if it were then he'd have a hell of a lot of problems on his hand. Ah, well.
All he could do at the moment was wait for the report from the forensics department.
He swore and shook his head, glancing at the other side of the room. If someone else found out about this before he figured out what was going on, Edward could be in a great deal of danger whether he really was a threat or an innocent victim of whatever the hell was going on.
He needed to get the boy to trust him, and he needed to do it fast. He needed to get the facts and put them together before anyone else realized what was going on, or started asking questions he couldn't answer.
If Edward told him the truth of why he was here, so many problems could be avoided. If he didn't, though- if Roy ended up having to give answers he didn't have to questions he could only guess about… It was best he hurry, then. He looked back at the papers before him and began to rifle through them again.
At least Pat's son really was alive. That was probably the only good thing about this whole damned situation. He could only hope that he could find out what was going on, because everything in him was screaming that this kid was an innocent, someone he should be protecting.
He couldn't shut up that little bit that was looking on with narrowed eyes and asking 'But what if he isn't? What if he's playing me?'
All he could do was cross his fingers and pray that this kid was as innocent as he seemed, even if that meant that there was some ring of monsters kidnapping children and putting them in rings to fight to the death.
THISISYETANOTHERLINEBREAKREPLACEMENTTHATIHAVETYPEDOUTBYHAND
Ed stared blankly at the book in his lap as he wondered when he would be able to stand again, if he ever would. Would he ever see Alphonse again, either? Had he even succeeded, though? Was Al actually alive, or was Edward here for some reason other than payment, perhaps having dropped off as the simple consequence of failure?
He could only hope that Al was alive.
Or could he?
He blinked as the thought occurred to him: maybe there was some way home? Was it possible that he could get home, see Al again, maybe even tell Winry what he should have told her months ago, if not years?
He grinned at the idea, tried to squash down the hope, and grinned harder. It would take time, and research, and devotion, but he had time in spades. He'd done research for years already. Hell, he'd been searching for a myth for what, five years now? Six?
If there was a possibility, the tiniest chance of ever going home, he would find it. He would go home eventually. He would-
Ed's train of thought suffered from abrupt and fatal Cliff Effect as he noticed the other person in the park behind the hospital.
He'd known there were doubles on this side, known that he could and would meet them. He had not, however, expected this.
The other patient stared at him in astonishment as obvious as his own. He tried to say something, get out any cohesive words as he watched the patient stand and walk over, limping and leaning heavily on a single crutch.
"Edward Elric?" The boy asked, eyeing him silently.
He nodded, unable to say anything.
His face was hardly recognizable, covered in wounds in the places the bandages didn't cover, but his eye was clear and furious as he allowed the crutch to fall in favor of raising his hand and socking Ed in the jaw.
"I deserved that," Ed said, working his jaw carefully.
"Ever pull something like that again and I'll kill you, got it?" The boy asked, spitting on the ground beside them.
"Deal. You Eduard?"
The boy nodded stiffly, eyeing him warily.
"Your mom's nice," he said quietly, looking away.
"I don't have a mum, jackass," the boy said sourly. "I grew up in an orphanage."
"So what, you just sprang into existence?" Ed asked sarcastically. "Your birth mom, idiot."
"Do you really expect me to believe that shit?" Eduard spat, shaking his head "Some alien or whatever the hell you are takes over my body and then shows up a couple months later knowing where my parents are? You're some sick guy."
"It's not my fault," Ed said sourly, "Life just hates me. You think I wanted to wake up in some other guy's body? It's not like I woke up and said 'huh, I wonder what it's like to take someone's body hostage, let's find out.' I was just as freaked out as you were."
Eduard nodded slowly. "I remember that, actually. Didn't know aliens could invade on accident."
"Bet you didn't know we die, either."
"So why're you here?" Eduard asked after a minute.
"Why do you think?" Ed asked, gesturing to his rather obviously missing limbs. He'd thought they were obviously missing, anyway.
"I meant on Earth," Eduard said, rolling the eye that wasn't bandaged. "You here for some alien invasion, take over the world type deal or somethin'? We get enough of that already."
"As if," Ed snorted and shook his head, "Nah, I just want to figure out how the hell to get home."
"Good."
Eduard sat down on the bench and stared at the sky. They stayed there for a while, thinking their own thoughts as they gazed at the clear blue above them, broken only periodically by fluffy white. It was unusual to have days like this in England, apparently.
Why would anyone choose to live in a place with perpetual clouds and dreary weather?
"Why'd she do it?"
"Huh?" Ed blinked himself out of his thoughts and looked over at his doppelganger.
"Why'd she give me up?" Eduard asked, still watching the isolated clouds drift across the sky.
"She was dying," Ed said quietly. "The only reason she made it this long is because she didn't have to look after two boys and herself, and she's still not doing all that well, from what I've heard."
"She has another kid?" Eduard asked, glancing over. "What's he like?"
"You didn't grow up with Al?" Ed asked, blinking at Eduard's puzzled look. "She gave you both up- you're twins, apparently."
"No way," Eduard said, shaking his head, "Why wouldn't I know about that?"
"Maybe he got adopted or something?" Ed suggested, frowning.
"Maybe," Eduard shrugged. "So, you met my Mum?"
"Yeah," Ed said with a faint smile, "She's a nice lady. She apparently really wanted to keep you but couldn't. Even tried to track you down after a while, apparently. Wasn't really happy when I showed up outside her door bleeding out, then told her I wasn't her kid."
"Wait, what?" Eduard asked, his eyes wide.
"Yeah," Ed shrugged and grimaced as he remembered waking up there and wondering what the hell was going on, "That's where I showed up, somehow. Then she thought I was you- still does, actually. At least now I have proof."
"Why'd you tell her you aren't?" Eduard asked curiously.
"My mom died a long time ago. I don't want to pretend some other lady is her when she isn't."
"Ah."
They sat in silence again as the sun began to lower and the clouds collected once more.