This is a gift for Lana that's been sitting on my computer for ages now. It was originally intended to be a companion piece to Worlds Apart... it went a bit off-track, but you can still see it that way if you like.

Anyway, enjoy, and please review.

Disclaimer: No.

Why is it, thought Alfons, that every time the Professor visits, Edward loses the ability to be even remotely civil?

He knew that the two had history, of course- one only had to look at them to see that. It was impossible not to notice the family resemblance. It was hard to imagine what the professor could possibly have done to deserve this treatment, though: Edward had barely spoken a word since he arrived. Alfons floundered helplessly for something to say.

"Ah... um, Professor? Could you please pass the bread?"

"Certainly, Alfons," Hoenheim, who was doing an admirable job of ignoring his son's glares, smiled and passed the plate down the table.

Alfons took a slice and scraped a tiny amount of butter onto it. Hoenheim chose to develop a fascination with the tablecloth, staring absently at a spot just left of his plate.

Edward scowled.

There was a long, awkward silence.

"So," said Alfons with false cheer. "How have you been, Professor?"

"Oh, quite well, thank you, Alfons. Of course, I have had to make a few sacrifices, what with money being so tight lately- but we all must make sacrifices."

Edward scowled.

"Uh- yes. The economy really isn't doing well," said Alfons, clinging onto the thread of conversation and desperately trying to postpone the stretched-out silence that was sure to follow.

Hoenheim sighed. "No, not at all. These are difficult times."

Edward, unsurprisingly, scowled.

Alfons attempted to pull him into the conversation in the vain hope that he might stop acting like a child. "Difficult indeed- things have been positively frugal, right, Edward?"

It didn't work: Edward's scowl remained. Alfons wondered- rather uncharitably- whether the wind had changed and Edward's face had stuck.

"Ah..." Alfons gave a very strained smile. "Well, uh... how was your day?" he asked with as much brightness as he could muster.

Edward gave him a mono-syllabic, vaguely positive reply.

Ignoring Edward's obvious desire to end the conversation there, he persevered. "Not too bad, then?"

"Mm."

Stubborn little- "Did you, ah, did you speak to Gracia about the rent?"

"Mm."

"Oh, that's good. What did she say?"

"'S fine. We can pay next week," Edward said bluntly.

More than one word- oh, bravo, Edward!

Alfons ignored the slightly hysterical voice in his head. "That's great! I was wandering how we'd manage."

Edward had apparently used up his full-sentence quota for the day. He gave a grunt in reply and returned to scowling.

Alfons felt the last of his hope die.

There was a long, awkward silence.

"Goodbye, professor! A pleasure seeing you!"

Alfons shut the door, and then, with a heavy, exhausted sigh, he collapsed against it.

"That," he said, "was the worst dinner I have ever had."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "The food wasn't that bad."

Alfons gaped at him. "The food wasn't- I'm not talking about the food!"

"Oh. Well, I can understand if you had a problem with the company, but you invited him..."

"I'm not talking about the professor either! Edward, did it not occur to you that I might be talking about you?"

Alfons couldn't bring himself to be even remotely surprised by Edward's scowl. Instead he scowled right back.

"Honestly, Edward- don't you have even an ounce of good manners? I realise you don't like him- I have no doubt that had I been born blind, deaf and dumb I would've realised that, you made it quite obvious- but would it kill you to try and be polite?"

"I don't see why I should be polite to that bastard."

Alfons glared at him. Edward glared back, and truth be told, he was distinctly more intimidating than poor, sweet-natured Alfons.

"The professor is not a bastard, Edward; he is a very pleasant man," he sighed. "I don't understand your problem with him..."

"It's none of your business." Edward muttered.

"If it's going to cause problems like this, I will make it my business."

Edward did not scowl this time, but opted to sulk. Alfons silently wondered whether he was eighteen or eight.

"Edward..."

"Can't you just drop it?"

"No! I will not drop it, Edward, so kindly explain exactly why you're treating your father like he murdered your mother!"

It had been the wrong thing to say, and he knew it- but the words were already out, and, judging by the look on Edward's face, the damage had been done.

"Oh, god... Edward, I... Edward, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have said..."

Edward didn't look at him.

"Edward, please, you know I would never... that is to say, I didn't mean to- oh, god, Edward, please."

Edward kept his eyes firmly on the floor. Alfons bit his lip and tentatively reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. Edward shrugged it off quickly.

"Edward, I'm sorry."

"...He might as well have done," Edward muttered softly, still not looking at him.

Alfons blinked, momentarily confused.

"He might as well have- Oh," he swallowed as the meaning of Edward's words hit him. "Oh."

"She waited for him," Edward almost whispered. "But..."

Alfons bit his lip. I'm such an idiot, he chastised silently. I should've known better than to bring up his mother, especially when I knew he was already upset!

"Edward, I... maybe we should take a break, talk about it another time... I really don't think-"

Edward cut him off. "She died waiting for him, Alfons. She was convinced he'd come back, but you know what?"

"Edward-"

"He never did!" Edward turned a blazing glare on him, and he cringed.

"Edward..."

"He never came," Edward continued, much more softly now. "We thought for sure, when she got sick... but he didn't. He didn't come for her funeral, either. Not even when..."

He shifted awkwardly and tapped his prosthetics. Alfons swallowed again and nodded.

"Edward, I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't realise."

It was a feeble excuse and he knew it, but Edward seemed to understand.

"Alfons..."

"Yes?"

Edward wriggled a bit, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Edward?"

"...Sorry."

Alfons blinked.

Did Edward just... apologise?

"I should've told you why I didn't want him here," he muttered, obviously unused to acting contrite. Edward was the type to solve all conflicts with a good fight, either verbal or physical- but with Alfons and his ailing health, such things were impossible, and so another way of settling the argument had to be found- even if that meant swallowing his pride.

"Uh... I..." Alfons shook himself. Now is not the time to be surprised, Alfons! Say something!

"You don't have to apologise," he said, as soon as he regained control. "It was my fault. I should've known you had a reason for not wanting him here."

Edward shrugged, still looking a little out of his element. "It's... fine."

There was a self-conscious silence between them, neither entirely sure when or why the argument had taken the turn it had and neither quite sure what to do about it.

"Uh," Alfons started. "Edward. Do you think we should check those plans for the engine again? You mentioned something about fuel last time."

Stupid, he chided himself. Why would he want to-

"Yeah," Edward agreed, relieved to have something to take his mind off the argument. "Sure. We should probably take a look before we meet the others tomorrow, and now is as good a time as any."

Alfons gave a weak smile. "Yes. So, what exactly were you saying...?"

Edward straightened up, letting the question distract him. "Well, it's not very efficient. I think we need to experiment with other fuels..."

They debated animatedly all the way to the study, argument all but forgotten- and Alfons never made the mistake of inviting Hoenheim to dinner again.