Roy dropped down in his office chair. Finally clearheaded, he realized that he probably had let his frustrations out on the kid. There was no way of winning the battle anyway, as he now had to use manpower to look for the kids parents, in stead of working on the case he had in front of him, papers scattered all over his wooden desk. There was a knock on his office door.
"Yeah." he answered,rubbing his fingers inbetween his eyes. It was f.l Hawkeye. "Colonel." she greeted. "I just wanted to let you know, that your... juvenile friend, has told me his name."
"And you're telling me this, because...?"
"He said his name was Edward Elric."
Roy stopped his head massage, and opened his eyes.
"As in Edward Elric von Hoenheim?" he asked.
"He just said Edward Elric, sir."
Roy sighed. "That is obviously not one of Hoenheim's sons."
"Just in case, I brought you the file we have on Edward Elric."
Something told Roy that she was not too happy with him, and interrupted his work just to prove her point. He decided to humor her, and accepted the file.
"Hmm..." he said ceremoniously. "Edward Elric von Hoenheim... Born October 11th 1899 in Risembool... Son of militairy official von Hoenheim..." He looked up at Hawkeye with a smirk, expecting her to state her point.
"Keep reading." Was all she said.
"...von Hoenheim, left the family October 1902, died 22 of July 1914 in Central... After that... raised by mother, Trisha Elric... blablabla, dead November 17th 1903... Older brother of Alphonse Elric Von Hoenheim..." Roy went silent.
"What does it say?" she asked, but Roy understood that she already knew.
"...also died November 17th, 1903. A housefire... That left Edward severly injured, eventually loosing his right arm and left leg to the severe burns. After that he was moved to an orphanage in Drachma, for... boys with behavioural issues and special needs... Where he was deemed a cripple, with severe Posttraumatic Stress Dissorder." He slowly layed the file back on the table. "So, it's really him."
"Seems that way. There's a picture on the last page. It's probably over ten years old, but..."
He flipped the pages, and sure enough. A young Edward Elric. Same blonde hair, not as long though, and the same golden eyes, looking into the camera with a curious look in his eyes. All Roy could do was sigh.
"Well, then I guess you can just let him go."
"I think you should do it."
Roy recognized Riza talking, not his first lt. This was his childhood friend, from before the militairy, and before the war.
"Hah. Don't make me laugh, lieutenant." Roy reminded her of her rank.
"Do you think he knows his father is dead?"
Roy startled. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"
"It's the 14h of October." she stated, unaffected. "He turned 16 a couple of days ago."
"And?"
"And, being in the state he is in, we can assume that he never got adopted. At least there's nothing in his file about it."
Roy stared at her, expectantly.
"And him just turning 16, means he was aloud to leave the Drachma Orphanage. And now he's in Central where, his father's, and as far as he probably knows, last living relative, worked. Do you think that's a coincidence?"
Roy didn't want to deal with this. He was tired after the long trainride, his back was sore and his migraine was dancing some sort of experimental dance behind his eyes. He didn't even know Hoenheim that well, much less his family. The thought of the young Elric kid, who had no one left, crept into his mind. He imagined that Elric had taken the train from Drachma, hoping to reunite with his long lost father. No. He could not think like this, or feel these things. He shook his head, and whined.
"Fine! I'll talk to the kid." He rised from his chair, and stomped past Hawkeye.
"Good decision, sir." she said, raising her hand in salute as he passed by.
Roy kept his firm walk all the way to the HQ's holding cells, and shuddered as the smell of sewage and old sweat violated his nostrils. He looked into each cell, getting cat called or cursed at, as he passed by. In the fifth cell he found Edward. He'd been put in with another man. The other man was huge. At least 6'3, strong and shirtless. Roy made a mark of his gang related tattoos on the man's chest, as he realized that the man was bleeding prefusely from his nose. Clutching to it, he sat in the opposite corner of the cell, Edward slumped down in the other. There couldn't be a connection.
"Elric?" He said, tale between his legs. Elric had his arms crossed, and ignored him.
"Edward Elric." He said again, more firmly. Ed still didn't budge. Roy groaned, and unlocked the cell, reached out and grabbed the boy by his arm.
"Hey..." Edward exclaimed, as he was dragged out of the cell.
"Where is your crutch?" Roy asked as he closed the grid. In the corner of his eye, he could see the large man flinch as he said it, but kept his gaze on Ed, who actually looked a bit apolegetic. Roy looked to the man, and back to Ed.
"What?"
Ed didn't answer.
"Are you trying to tell me that you broke this guy's nose with your crutch?"
"No!" Ed denied. "He broke it."
"He broke your crutch?"
"Yeah. So I... broke his nose."
Roy closed his eyes and exhailed, calming himself down.
"I'm sorry I asked."
Roy didn't loosen the grip around the kids arm. How could he let go? He didn't have his crutch, and had no way of getting around.
"Come on," he suddenly decided. "I wanna talk to you in my office."
There wasn't much Edward could do but obey. The older man was a lot stronger than him, and Ed couldn't really do anything but follow wherever he went. That didn't mean he had to make it pleasant though. All of a sudden he decided to stop moving, falling to the floor as Roy tried to drag him along, making the job a lot harder.
"For the love of God..."
Well, this wasn't quite what Ed had in mind. His hand was handcuffed, and his body strapped to a wheelchair, that the holdingcells apparently had available for transportation of difficult inmates. That was not part of his plan. That bastard, had even threatened with a mask they put on the inmates who spat.
"I thought you wanted me to talk." Ed smirked, but quickly retrited, as the shithead was dangeriously close to act out on his threats. He was now wheeled from the holding cells, through a long hallway.
"I know you just left an orphanage in Drachma." The man suddenly said. Orphanage? Prison. Or institution, maybe. But definetly not an orphanage. He decided to exersice his right to remain silent.
"How did you get money for the trainride?"
This idiot didn't seem like the kind of guy to small talk. Neither was Ed.
"I played my fucking violin."
The wheelchair stopped, and he heard a sharp inhale, and then an exhale, followed by Major Douchbag mumbeling under his breath. "What...have I gotten myself in to?"
