Chapter 2

A piece of the office

Winry and Pinako started to give him more chores and kept him permanently busy, but he realised that only dimly. If it made them happy when he worked, so be it. Lately though they stopped with it. They stopped permanently talking to him, too. He couldn't say what he thought about that. He just realised it on the edges of his conciousness. Maybe it was because his opinions outweighed one another. One side of him was happy that he could just stay in his room, and not interact to much with this hurtful place, the other side said that he should make Winry happy, and therefore maybe should respond to her somehow. It was a draw, so in the end he couldn't decide and just thought nothing.

Pinako called for him to come downstairs. He got up from his bed and did so. When he came to a stop in front of her she held out something he hadn't received in ages, it seemed. A letter.

"Seems like those dogs still want something from you.", she said.

Ed took the letter and went over to the couch. He sat down and just stared at it for a while. It looked official. It looked like it was from the military. Should he even bother to open it? But then, maybe it contained something that would end his right decision to stay here with the Rockbells if he didn't answer it. So he opened it up, awkwardly pulling at the envelope because he just didn't think about getting a paper knife. Finally he had the papers within free. They fell into his lap and he randomly grabbed one. It showed an array, a rather complex one. DO NOT ACTIVATE was written in thick red letters above it. Read note, was added per hand in smaller letters. Note. That had to be the paper that looked not official at all and was stuffed between the array and a military file. He stared at the handwriting. It was without any unnecessary flourish but somehow still looked very elegant. It read:

You probably throw this away the second you see it's from the military but considering how much paper they waste on other useless documents every day I decided to try and send this letter anyway. The array I sent along was found on a very ugly crime scene. We're not sure about how much of the scene was caused by the array itself, so DON'T activate it. Neither myself nor any other state alchemist (or normal alchemist we've asked so far) has got a clue about where the array comes from, and what exactly it does. That's why we request your help. The military paper that's with this letter basically just tells you the same in official words and contains the thanks of the state, some information about how much money you can make with this, and other stuff the paper pushers think is important. We just hope you might be able to teach us old dogs something new.

Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fury currently yell at me to send you their greetings. They wish you the best.

I wish you some fire.

Sincerely,

Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Bastard

Edward stared at the words. They awakened memories he thought were gone, but obviously he hadn't deleted or buried them good enough. And surprisingly they didn't hurt so much. They were actually kind of fun. Four male subordinates, all very different but still the same when they acted like idiots. And they did that a lot. They would yell around and tell stupid stories and then the only woman in the team would yell around too, to get them back on the ground and to work. Afterwards she'd smile an almost invisible smile, showing she wasn't really angry. And the fifth male, the head of he chaos, would sit and watch, smirking, or occasionally actively participate in the madness. Those were the scenes Edward marched into when he entered the office without knocking. He'd start a new sort of yelling. Greetings. Then he'd march to the man who waited for his own special greeting. Only Ed could get away with calling him that. And now Ed could see why. The Bastard had actually realised that he was called like that with some kind of affection. So he accepted it, even going so far as to give Ed permission, putting the word along with his name. What did that mean? What did the whole ending of the letter mean? Did they actually miss him? He couldn't imagine that. He was just another dog after all, who only barged into their office for complaints and to receive a new mission or a lead.

It started to hurt again. He could feel that he was not supposed to be here in small, peaceful Resembool. This was the place he had reserved for the day when he had accomplished his goal and restored Al. And that office was the place where he'd always come back to until that day, the place where he'd get the leads, the place where everyone knew about his purpose and helped him. And he wanted to go back there, wanted a new purpose, because he was not supposed to live his life here in Resembool without having earned it.

But leaving Winry wasn't right. She wanted him here to look after him, so he'd stay. But it couldn't be too bad to think about that array and answer the letter, right? He was still here, he'd just grab onto a small piece of that office for a moment to ease the pain a bit.

So he took the paper with the array into both hands and allowed his mind to wander, to analyse, to remember, to do everything needed to find something helpful about an array like this. And it felt good. He even skimmed the description of the crime scene that the official document from the military held. After a while he was lying on his back, the paper with the array on his chest and arrays and books and references to ancient alchemists rushing around in his head. He dimly thought that he felt like an almost dry alcoholic who just got his hands on a glass of the finest liquor of the world.

Finally his brain uncovered some information, remembered some sentences and a picture in a book, ages old, but he had read it once because it was said to hold information about forming human flesh. It was an old array, related to human transmutation, maybe the reason why other alchemist didn't know about it. They were too afraid and too smart to get near human transmutation. Ed remembered the title and the author of the book, he needed paper and a pen to tell Mustang. So for the first time in a long time he went to use his desk.

He sat down, took a sheet of paper and his pen. He fumbled with the tip of it to make the dried up ink go away so it would write again. Finally, the ink started to wet his finger so he pulled away and held the pen above the paper. How should he write this? Just scribble down the information? Add some greetings? He couldn't write something personal, it felt wrong and nothing did happen around him anyway. Mustang didn't write an introduction like "Dear Edward" or stuff. Did he have the same problem as Ed? No, couldn't be, the colonel had a sharp tongue, it was unlikely for him to not find any words, right? He was probably just lazy. Ed regarded Mustang's writing next to his own, still empty paper. And somehow words managed to come to him.

Tell them thanks and my best wishes, too. You're a pyromaniac.

And of course I can teach you OLD dogs.

Sincerely,

Edward Elric, Fullmetal

He knew he didn't own the title any more, but he also knew that Mustang would understand. So he set up an extra paper, wrote down the information and the reference to the book in a report like fashion and searched for an envelope. He wrote the addresses on it. He had no stamps, but he was sure Pinako did and got up to go find her. The old woman almost dropped her pipe when Edward asked her.

"Sure.", she said. "Of course I've got some stamps, just wait a second!" and she hurried away. Ed stayed where he was. He could feel Winry stare at him but he didn't know anything else to say so he just looked down at the letter in his hand and waited for her to say something. But she kept being quiet and thoughtful. Pinako came back and handed him the stamps. He nodded his thanks, licked the stamps to make them sticky and placed them on the envelope. Then he went to the post office.

People greeted him on his way. He always waved at them, giving them a small smile. He felt good enough to do that, the letter in his hand was reassuring.

Back in his room Ed thought about whether he would receive a respond. The military would pay some money. Maybe they would send another official document, too. But would he receive another note from Mustang? He couldn't deny that he hoped for it. Just one sentence would be enough, it didn't even need to be a "thank you", just something that told him that he had managed to do the task right. Not because he wanted praise but because selfish him just needed a bit reassurance that he wasn't a complete failure, that there was still something he could do without causing something bad. He pulled at his hair, knowing that he didn't deserve such reassurance, but still. He couldn't help but want it.

Ed had managed to force all his feelings down again until a few days later Pinako called for him to come down to the living room, there was another letter. He made his way downstairs faster and with more energy than Winry and Pinako had seen from him for quite a long time. The envelope Pinako passed on to him looked just like the last and he pried it open on the spot. The thick military document was ignored, it fell to the ground when he pulled out the second sheet of paper. He unfolded it and sure enough there was the note in Mustang's handwriting.

They almost started a party when they heard you greeted them back. You made them really happy. I see you stressed the word old. Well, let me stress that I am still not even thirty! Despite that, I have to say, I appreciated the surprise of your letter in my morning mail. It seems that short things make my day better, be it your note or you in person. I don't know if you really rant about not being short when you read that but my day so far was quite boring so for my entertainment I'll just imagine you do. Otherwise I/we just wanted to say thank you for helping out.

Sincerely,

Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, not a pyromaniac

Ed could hear the colonel's voice in his head. Could hear the smooth, deep voice speaking the words on the paper, could even hear it screech a little when it came to his age, or almost purr in amusement when it told the short joke line. He could imagine how and what he would have retorted to the colonel's words, could feel a slight twitch that told him to really yell and wave the letter in an angry way, whilst he complained about the Bastard calling him small again.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't just send a letter, a real letter back to Mustang. He just wasn't close enough to the colonel to do such thing. And he couldn't just leave Resembool to scream at him in person either. That's why he put the letter to the other one in his desk drawer, thanked whatever higher force that might be there, even though he didn't believe in it, for the wonderful reassurance and the small potion of peace for his mind and then proceeded to forget.