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There's a guest appearance from Mustang and Hawkeye in this chapter. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave a review.

Chapter Seven: Not So Accidental

Six years ago

It had been two weeks since Edward returned home from hospital.

Not long after that, their neighbour's daughter, Winry Rockbell, had shown up at the door. She had brought flowers for Trisha and chocolate for Ed- but she had also brought an offer from her grandmother.

"Granny used to be a doctor and now she's a mechanic. She says- if you want- we could make you a wheelchair. I know you've got one, Ed, but I meant a better one- faster, easier to use, that kind of thing. I mean, it would be expensive- but it'd be better than the chair you've got now."

Winry Rockbell had been a close friend of the younger Elrics for as long as they could remember, and they knew that she and her grandmother were the best mechanics in the area. They readily accepted her offer, and it was only a few days before she brought round the new chair- sleeker and more compact than the motorised monster the hospital had recommended to them, and faster and easier to handle, as promised. Ed had quickly adapted to his new chair, getting used to the controls on the armrest and the speed at which it moved. Pretty soon he was using it as if it were the most natural thing in the world- although he would much rather have his real limbs back, as he complained time and time again.

During the several weeks that Trisha and Edward had been in hospital, a disturbing piece of information had come to light. While the police were looking over the wreckage of Trisha's car, they discovered that the brakes had been deliberately tampered with. Since Hoenheim and Trisha had separate cars, it seemed fairly obvious that the target had been Trisha.

At first, the main suspect had been Hoenheim- horrible as the idea was, as her husband, he was the obvious choice. But then they had found the fingerprints.

It was two weeks after Edward's return from hospital that they finally found out who those fingerprints belonged to.

"Mrs Elric," the police officer began, "Do you know anybody called Dante Bolton?"

The officer was a woman with rust-coloured eyes and long blonde hair swept back off her face in a clip. Stood behind her was a handsome man with black hair and dark grey eyes.

"Dante Bolton?" asked Trisha. "The name is familiar- excuse me a moment, would you, officer?"

The blonde woman nodded. "Of course, Mrs Elric. Would you like a few minutes to yourself?"

Trisha smiled. "Actually, I was hoping to see my husband, if I could. I'm sure he'd know who she was... I remember him mentioning her once or twice- Oh!"

"Mrs Elric?"

"Dante Bolton- I think- My husband had a relationship with her, oh, years ago. Maybe... fifteen, sixteen years? I never met her, but she... wasn't a nice woman, by all accounts. My eldest boy is actually her son. Why?" she asked- and then she blanched with realisation. "You're not saying- those fingerprints aren't- hers?"

"I'm afraid so, Mrs Elric. You say you don't know anything about her, then?"

"No- you'd have to ask Hoenheim, he'd know her best. But the last time he saw her was when she left Envy- ah, William with him, and that would've been fifteen years ago now."

"I see. Mrs Elric, could you ask your husband to come in, please?"

"Certainly, officer. Could I have a few minutes to talk to him first?"

"Of course, Mrs Elric. Would you ask him to come through once you're done?"

"I will, officer. Excuse me- ah, thank you."

Hoenheim got straight to his feet when his wife re-entered the room. "Trisha?"

"I'm fine, dear... but do you remember those fingerprints they found?"

Hoenheim nodded. "Do they know who they belong to?"

"They belong to a woman named Dante Bolton."

Hoenheim's eyes widened with shock. "Dante?!"

"So it is her..."

"But- it's been fifteen years! I said I never wanted to see her again! Why would she- ?"

"The police want to talk to you about her, Hoenheim. Tell them everything you can- I want them to catch the woman who hurt our Edward."

Heoheim nodded, and wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders, drawing her close.

"Of course. Of course I will. I'll do anything I can to protect our boys- and you. I never want you to be hurt like that again."

She smiled. "I love you."

They stayed clutched together in their embrace a few moments. "I love you too, Trisha. I'm going to talk to those police officers- Mustang and Hawkeye, wasn't it? I'm going to do everything I can to help them catch that madwoman."

He let go of her and walked into the other room. "Good afternoon, officers. My wife explained what this was about. Please, whatever I can do to help, I will. What do you want to ask me about Dante Bolton?"


A few weeks later, Hoenheim gathered his things together in a suitcase. He bent over his sleeping wife's still form, and kissed her forehead.

"Goodbye, Trisha," he whispered. "I love you- but I can't stay here. I can't let her hurt you, can't let her hurt our boys."

He straightened up, and shut the door to their bedroom quietly behind him. He lingered outside each of his sons' doors- going inside to wish them a good night for the final time, sweeping Edward's long blonde hair out of his eyes, tussling Alphonse's sandy brown mop, and tucking Envy's green-dyed locks behind his ears.

As he left his eldest son's room, he half-turned. "Trisha is your mother just as much as she is Edward's or Alphonse's, Envy- no, William. All three of you are her sons. I'm sorry I'm leaving you, especially after what happened to Edward- but I don't want Dante to hurt any of you any more."

He left, and quietly locked the front door behind him.

"Our boys will be fine, Trisha," he told the night sky. "They're yours, after all- and mine."