Chapter Seven

Winry yawned before going into her clinic's patient room. Ed had kept her up all night and not in a good way. He was still fussing and grumbling about the interrogation. She was just about ready to throttle him, but didn't think he'd take it well if she went back to her own place – her guest room in Roy's house – just so she could get some rest. She looked at the chart. This would be a new patient, referred by the military hospital. The one thing about that hospital, it was always a good source of new work.

A man in his forties smiled at her before his gaze dropped to her work boots. Smiling, Winry figured he had to be shy. He was dressed in a hospital uniform, and, to her surprise, he already had an automail hand. From the looks of it, it was an old construct. She could definitely improve on that. "Hello, I'm Winry Rockbell."

"John Pandur." He held out that old hand for her to shake.

Winry did so, sitting down so she could examine it. "Are you having troubles with your hand?"

"Yes. I'm having issues with the fingers moving correctly. I've had this since the war. I guess you know hands are expensive. I never had it updated because it was working fine." John shrugged. "Now, it's having problems and Hala Jasso suggested I contact you since I wouldn't even begin to know where my mechanic is," he said, still looking at her feet, his brow pinched as if he was concerned or perhaps disappointed.

"Have you been maintaining it? That's a very long time to go without maintenance," she scolded gently. Winry checked over his hand and immediately reevaluated her statement. She wouldn't have guessed it had been so long except for where it leaked around the thumb and forefinger. "I'm not used to it lasting so long. You must have been taking good care of your automail," Winry added brightly, wondering if she could have this man talk to Ed, Roy and Dev, all of whom broke theirs with regularity.

He smiled again. "I'm a medic. I'm used to taking care of things. I'm able to do the maintenance and it's not very extensive." John gestured with his hand, drawing attention to the fact that his prosthesis ended just a few millimeters above his wrist.

"Let's have a look." Winry pulled on her mechanic's loupe, fixing it over one eye and selected the proper tool to open up the mechanisms. "Hmmm, the pistons are very worn and leaking. Third time I've seen this today. The cold isn't doing anyone any favors especially these older models. I can fix these, or we could do a complete redesign and give you something new."

"Can we fix the worn out parts now, and let me see how the finances look for a new hand? I'm more or less happy with the hand as it is, but I've seen your work," John said.

"You have?" Winry's brow beetled. "Oh, yes, you know Hala, so you've probably met Dev."

"Recently, yes. Dev also said to see you."

"Dev's hand is a very new design. And certainly we replace the pistons and talk over designs so you have an idea of how much it'll cost for a replacement," Winry said affably.

"Sounds like a plan." John smiled, but she noticed he couldn't meet her eyes. The poor guy was probably shy with the way he kept looking at her feet instead of her.

XXX

"You look stressed." Gracia laced her arms around Maes's neck.

He put a hand over hers, giving them a squeeze. "I am. Sorry, didn't mean to bring it home."

"Have you managed to clear Edward?" Gracia leaned down to kiss his cheek before coming around the arm of the couch to sit with him.

"Not yet. I have him working on other things. We can more or less rule out Dev. He's not in good enough physical condition." Maes frowned. "I don't like talking about this sort of thing here." He glanced at the ceiling.

"She's in the kitchen doing her homework," Gracia replied.

"Good." He nodded, trying to figure out what it was he wanted to say.

"Something else is bothering you."

That she could read him so well was one of those things bothering him. Was he really so much like the man's whose name he now called his own? Or was he that transparent, all on his own? Putting an arm around her waist, Maes said, "I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about," she replied airily.

His lips thinned. He knew she was probably right, but he couldn't dodge the feeling of dread.

Gracia frowned, taking his hand. "There really isn't. I know after what happened in your world, that's hard for you to believe." She twined her fingers with his. "I'm fine, Maes. I really am, and when I'm not, trust me, you'll know it. My moods will be swinging and I'll be screaming or crying or both."

Maes snorted. "I think I can handle that. I'm expecting that. It's the normal I'm not so ready for. You're so happy. She had been that happy and I'm not trying to live in the past and think about her."

"But you can't help it. I know." Gracia turned to look into his eyes. "Those same thoughts go through my mind, too."

"I don't want you to think I'm thinking this is a mistake," he added hurriedly. "It's odd, no doubt, but I do love you."

"I know you love me, honey, and I hope you know I love you, too." She stroked his cheek. "You're a good man, you're my good man."

But he really wasn't or at least not her original good man. Sometimes he did think this might have been a mistake, but those times were few and far between. This self doubt was born of fear of losing it all again. Meinhard couldn't imagine not having her and Elicia in his life. It was worth giving up his real name. He was Maes now.

He pulled her close, kissing her as he calculated the time between now and when Elicia would be in bed. Before his hand could reach the first button of her sweater, the phone rang, making them both jump. Mentally cursing enough to make even Ed blush, Maes got up and snatched the phone off the cradle. "Hello? Oh…just perfect. I'll be right there."

Worried, she folded her arms around herself. "Another woman didn't get killed did she?" Gracia asked.

Maes shook his head. "This has to do with the bomb mishap. We seem to have to a lead on a few more of the Ishbalans in the cabal. I'm going to call Ed and have him meet us, then give Roy a call. With my luck, I'll catch him in the middle of doing something indecent with Riza."

Gracia glanced back at the kitchen as if to see if her daughter was still there. "And here I was hoping you'd do something indecent with me."

"I'll try to save some energy for that when I get back." He grinned, even though they both knew in all likelihood he'd get back so late at night, sleep would be the only thing he was capable of. At least they had caught a break on one case. It made the interruption sting a little less.

XXX

"I'm surprised I'm allowed to help with this," Ed grumbled as he met Hughes, Armstrong and Ross outside headquarters. The pained look on the two men's faces made him regret his hasty words. Maria looked like she wanted to slap him across the face like she had when he was a kid.

"You are cleared for duty, Major," Hughes replied stiffly, letting Ed know the barb had dug in. "You're just not cleared to examine the case of the murdered women."

"Yeah, okay, so what is the plan?" Ed tried to downplay being an ass. He rubbed his shoulder, which screamed from the cold. "And can we discuss it inside?"

"In the car," Maria replied. "Brosch has brought it around."

Ed nodded. "Okay."

He let them chivvy him toward the military transport, thankful it was a van. He hadn't been thrilled at the idea of squeezing into a back seat next to Armstrong. Memories of his frightening defeat at Scar's hands bubbled up, along with the feeling of being crushed by the gentle behemoth up against the train window as Armstrong escorted him and Al home.

As Denny navigated the slick roads, Hughes laid out the plan. "Do you know Priests Shelar and Mattan, Edward?"

"Mattan is Uzziel's grandson, right? I know who he is, but I don't know him other than he's not a Mustang fan." Ed shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'who is?' "I've never heard of the other man."

"I don't know much about either man myself. They're going to meet us at the Thuja housing project. Apparently, one of the group wants to give up. He's only fifteen and in over his head," Hughes said.

Ed wrinkled his nose. "Why does a kid want to blow people up?"

"You were younger than he is when you joined the military," Maria reminded him. "Even if war wasn't what you had in mind when you signed up."

"You have to remember, Edward, the boy would have been a mere babe during the war, if he was born at all during the worst of it. He was very likely to have grown up fed on hatred for Amestris, wrapped up in the ideals of righteous vengeance," Armstrong added.

Ed grimaced. "I heard stuff like that from Scar." He'd seen it on Earth, too. On one level he understood it, but he didn't have to like it.

"Mattan and Shelar will theoretically be there to help keep the kid calm, and I'm sure they think they may need to protect him as well," Hughes said. "I'm not that interested in punishing a kid, but that might be out of our hands."

"What if he helps us?" Ed asked.

"I'm hoping that's enough to get him some consideration. As far as I know, he's not actually done anything yet, and, hopefully, knows what the cell is planning. It's what do we do with him afterward that concerns me," Hughes replied and Ed believed that Hughes was telling the truth judging by the furrow in the man's brow. "He might not be safe among his own people here, and it's not likely he's going to want to help us much or switch sides."

"That's probably why those priests want to be there. To protect him from his own people, maybe find some way to rehabilitate him," Ed tried to be hopeful.

"Probably."

"We're there," Denny called from the driver's seat.

Ed saw the priests standing outside in colorful, thick wool coats, looking frozen and unhappy. He knew he'd be equally unhappy once this got underway.

XXX

"This is going to become permanent if you keep scowling like that." Riza tapped the tight knot between Roy's brow.

His frown deepened. "I should get to the Ishbalan centre, but Uzziel and Kennan want me to stay out of it."

"Then that's exactly what you should do." Riza replied, tapping his brow again.

"Have you forgotten your husband is responsible for everything all the time?" Li-Ying said, barely looking up from her book. She shifted on the living room couch, sinking lower on it. "Even when it has nothing to do with him. He's always been a control freak."

"I know." Riza sighed.

"I'm not!" Roy glared at his sister, but it was lost on her. "Maes called me about having a lead on the bomber. The priests want me out of it because I'm apparently part of the problem. You know damn well there are a lot of hard feelings about me being the ambassador." He started fidgeting with his glass eye and the scar on his cheek, something to keep his fingers busy. "There are those that would rather live rough in the slums if the alternative is accepting my help."

"And it's been like that for the last few years," Riza reminded him. "Tonight is no different."

"Maes and Edward are walking into an Ishbalan slum alone. I should have been able to have gone," Roy grumbled.

"Edward is no longer a child, Roy." Riza sat next to him taking his hand. "He is nearly your match in a fight. Well, we haven't even seen him fight since he's come back. He could be better than you. Hughes can take care of himself." Roy winced at that and she squeezed his hand. "You know he is. Armstrong is also with them, and Maria Ross and Denny Brosch. They will be fine."

He pouted. "That doesn't make it any easier."

"You're worried about Edward." Riza smiled. "That's sweet."

"Don't you even think about suggesting that to him." Roy wagged a finger at her. "Besides, it's Hughes I'm worried about."

"Right," Li-Ying drawled.

"It just seems there is never just one problem, one reason for sorrow but many at once. I can't help but worry when I think about it like that." Roy sighed.

"Isn't that an old saying? Brother, if you're just going to sit around being a grumpus, why don't you just go upstairs and do it where we don't have to see you?" Li-Ying asked, turning a page in her book.

"Why are you even still in Central?" Roy snorted. She didn't deign to give him an answer, so he turned his attention back to Riza. "And it's not helping that this murderer is running around writing me love notes. I've been racking my brain, and I have no idea how I could possibly be connected."

"Have you tried looking at photos?" Riza yawned. "Those are often good at triggering memories."

"No, I should, though. It's a good idea. I'll dig out some old albums. I get this feeling that if I could possibly know the killer, it's not recently. Don't ask me why?"

"You have good intuition for a brat," Li-Ying replied.

"I'm ignoring you." Roy did a poor job of it, flashing his sister an obscene gesture. "How are you feeling, Riza? You looked tired at dinner."

"Exhausted. Don't know why. I was exhausted yesterday, too," she admitted.

Li-Ying peered at her with more concern than she would ever show Roy. "Of course you are. Living with my brother is enough to exhaust anyone."

He sniffed in response. "Let's go upstairs, Riza. Get into bed early and pretend my sister isn't here."

"I'll go put on some music to drown you out, brother."

Riza wagged her head. "You two are awful, but turning in early sounds good. Come with me, Roy. You can always come back down here and fret in the middle of the night like normal."

Roy sighed, knowing he would. He took her hand anyhow, heading for the stairs. He could at least find momentary solace in his wife's arms.