Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Where The Corners Meet

Chapter 1: Father

A/N: For the longest time, I've been meaning to do this. I've had the layout for this story set out for months, and now I finally get around to it. In short, this is set twenty years after the end of FMA: Brotherhood, in the year 1934, focusing on Edward's family.

He cursed the breeze, it's constant blowing severely impeding his progress as he ran up the hill. He'd caught wind of the news from one of the neighbors as he'd sat down by the stream, fishing in the warm glow of the morning sun. It was his favorite pastime, fishing. His father had taught him when he was just a little boy, explaining the importance of patience and a keen eye. Of course, that couldn't have been more hypocritical, as Edward Elric was not a very patient man.

Even so, that should have been the last thing on Winston's mind. Finally, his father had returned from Central after three weeks of a conference of some sort. His father had been going away like this for a long time, though Winston had never found out why. No one had ever told him. And, at fourteen, he thought it high-time that he get an answer.

That's why he was in such a hurry.

He stumbled, cursing as the dog ran out to meet him at the gate. Winston pushed her aside, insisting that she fetch, failing to realize that it was the wrong command. The door was opened swiftly by his mother, the smile on her face stating that she was expecting her husband.

"Winston, what are you doing?" she asked as he collapsed on the front porch.

The youth looked up at her with wide eyes, sweat beading on his forehead, bare feet burning against the wood. "Is Dad home yet? I heard he was coming back today."

His mother sighed, smiling. "You're just like him, you know," she said fondly, kneeling beside him. "Impatient, curious, and always in a hurry."

Winston moaned, rolling his eyes as he flopped backwards into the dirt at the bottom of the steps. "You say that all the time," he whined, scratching out a squiggle among the small stones. "Can't you just tell me if he's home or not? I gotta talk to him about something, and it's real important."

She stood, hands on her hips as she shook her head. "Haven't seen him yet, dear. Your uncle came by this morning with the news, but that's it." A sigh. "We don't even know what time he'll be here, if at all."

The blond youth smiled, satisfied enough with his mother's answer. He stood, darting into the house and down the hallway to his father's office. Although his father's reasons for leaving were a mystery, but he had an awful lot of books on his shelf regarding physics, mechanics, Amestrian history, and something called alchemy.

And, strangely enough, his father never answered any questions about the latter.

"So he could be at the station?" Winston asked, walking back out the door with an alchemy book under his arm.

Her blond hair fell out of it's ponytail as she shrugged. "Could be. Unless he's off with your uncle for an early lunch. Maybe you should go check."

Winston nodded, flying off the porch with a single leap, landing easily on his feet. He took off down the road, the dog barking happily at his heels. He didn't even hear his mother insisting that he turn himself around and get some shoes on.

Once he hit the main road, Winston slowed down, looking to his left to see a rotted old tree. Amazing it was still alive, after all this time. From what his father had told him, it had been around since his own parents had settled in Risembool. Not surprising that a tree could live past his old man's thirty-five years, but that it had survived the damages of flame. He knew the story, and a little too well.

It had been an accident that took his grandmother away, long after his grandfather had vanished. His father and uncle had made a mistake, one that had cost them the better part of four years. As to what that mistake was, Winston didn't know. His father had been mum on the subject. But Winston was smart enough to know that it had something to do with his father's automail leg. Maybe an accident in the Civil War?

Marla barked, snapping him out of his reverie. Winston smiled, patting her head before taking off down the road towards the station, blond hair flying behind him.

Sure enough, there was a train on the tracks, puffing out loads of black smoke. As swiftly as it had come, it vanished, leaving the air looking as crisp and clear as before. He trudged to the ticket window, grinning at the woman stationed there, counting the day's earnings.

"Hey, Mrs. M.," he said, waving a hand. "My dad show up at all today?"

The woman nodded, strands of gray hair falling into her eyes. "That he did, Winston," she replied, placing the money in a metal box. "Passed by not ten minutes ago with your uncle."

"Any idea where they went?" Winston didn't even register that his eyes were wide as he pressed his hands against the glass of the window. "Did he say anything? Please, I gotta find him!"

Another nod, accompanied this time by a hand that pointed Winston southwest towards town. "They're the same as they always were, those Elric brothers," she laughed. "They come home, and run themselves to the first place with an open kitchen."

They must have been at the inn. Winston knew his father loved nothing more after a trip than to head into town and grab a plate of mashed potatoes and a steak. Of course, the meal came second to his mother's embrace, but the best was always saved for last.

He smiled, thanking her before running off with Marla, taking a shortcut through a grassy field. As they ran, Winston laughed, amused by the fact that his dog was playing hide-and-seek with him, her head popping out of the greenery every few feet or so.

For a moment, Winston stopped, looking at the worn book in his hands. An Introduction to Alchemy, it said. He ran his fingers across the leather binding and over the cover, the imprint of a golden circle making him wonder more. What was the significance of this seemingly mundane shape, and why was his father so against talking about it?

Could it have something to do with Matilda?

# - # - # - #

"All right! Now that's what I call a meal!" Edward shouted, slamming a fist on the table, utensils in his hands.

Simply put, it looked fantastic. A warm, white mound of mashed potatoes, drizzled lightly with the most mouth-watering brown gravy. And, to top it off, a sizzling steak sat to the side, one of the ends covered by steamed vegetables. Now, if only the cooks at the inn could make Granny Pinako's stew. Then, he'd eat there every day.

Of course, that probably wouldn't go over too well with Winry.

"Ed, you're doing it again," his brother chided, tossing him a napkin.

The older Elric looked across the small table, a golden eyebrow raised. "What's that, Al?" he said, eyes moving to the napkin. "Did I do something wrong? Wasn't one hug at the station enough?"

The other shook his head, laughing. "That's not it," he replied, grinning. "It's just... Well, you're doing it again, Ed."

"Doing what?"

"Just wipe your face," Alphonse insisted, nudging the napkin closer to his brother. "You're drooling like a kid."

Edward's eyes widened, swiping easily at his mouth with a sleeve as Alphonse shook his head. He couldn't help it. It was just a habit, wiping his face that way. Sure, it got his clothes a little dirtier than Winry would have liked, but it got the job done all the same.

He pushed aside the tall glass of milk that the waitress had brought for him, swapping it for the glass of water that had been placed before Alphonse. He then licked his lips, eyes wide as he jammed the fork into the tender meat, the knife slicing through it with precision to allow the juice and gravy to mingle.

"I'll tell ya, Al, it's been so long, I can't wait to...!"

There was a slam from behind him, drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant. Even Alphonse, who was usually very composed, looked to be in shock. Dropping the fork, Edward waved a hand in front of his brother's face, curious as to why he was suddenly so silent. In turn, the younger Elric slowly pointed over Edward's shoulder, eyes even wider than before. With that, Edward looked back, the same expression coming to rest upon his own face.

"Dad!"

Edward stiffened, arms wrapped securely around his neck in a tight hug. He let out a breath, smiling awkwardly as he patted his son's back.

"Hey, Winston," he said, forcing out a laugh. "How'd ya find me? Aren't you supposed to be at home helping your mom?"

The youth pulled up a chair and sat down, greeting Alphonse in a similar fashion. It was funny, seeing how his boy had grown over the last fourteen years. Golden hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that only could have come from Winry. And still, Edward could see a bit of himself in his son. A bit high-strung and curious, but with every redeeming quality that his mother possessed. Sweet, loving, and one hell of a mechanic. And, all the same, their boy had turned out looking a lot like himself at that age.

Still, that was something he didn't think about too often.

"So, what brings you here? Did your mom send you to find me?" Edward laughed, waving the waitress over. He raised a hand as his son opened his mouth to speak. "Never mind. We can talk about that later. For now, we should just eat!"

Edward grinned, slamming the fork down into his meal before bringing it to his lips. Strangely, the only thing he ended up shoveling into his mouth was an empty piece of metal that tasted a bit like wood.

"Ed, that can wait," Alphonse said, having pulled the plate away. He smiled gently. "You two should catch up. You can always eat later."

The older Elric sighed, leaning back in his chair so as to admit defeat. "All right. You got me," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He smiled gently, looking into Winston's eyes. "So, what is it you wanted to talk about? Anything good happen while I was away? You catch any good-looking fish?"

Winston, hands behind his back, sighed. "I walked by the house today," he said quietly.

"Is that what's bothering you? Look, it's not a big deal, Win," Edward laughed. "It's nothing for you to be ashamed of, being curious as to where your dad got his start. In fact, I'm glad. I was always a bit afraid that you'd brush off your heritage when you got to be this age." He clapped a hand over Winston's shoulder. "I'm proud that it's something you're interested in."

The youth smiled sheepishly, shifting a bit. "Thanks, Dad." He looked up, blue eyes still worried. "But that's not what I came to talk to you about."

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Winston knocked the air right out of his lungs, pushing an all-too-familiar item onto the table. He reached for it, speechless, his fingers grazing the cover. Yes, he remembered this well. All the joy and sorrow that came with it, as well. Wild dreams that only little boys could come up with. Dreams where the world, and everything in it, was one perfect, happy place.

The book that started it all.

He trembled, almost too afraid to speak. "Where did you find this?"

"I saw it on your shelf a while ago, but I kept forgetting about it." Winston leaned forward, looking rather fearful. "You don't tell me anything about it, about alchemy. I know it's some kind of science, but..."

Edward slammed his hand on the table, rising from his chair. "It's not for you to know!" he shouted, far louder than he needed to. "You can't... You can't know. It's not safe."

"But, Dad...!"

"That's enough, Winston!" Edward turned away, sweeping the book out of his son's reach before heading for the door. He stepped outside, sighing as he trudged down the dirt road. "Some things just aren't worth knowing."