(This chapter is unbetaed)

Trigger Warning:

There is blood and gore near the end of the first (past!Edward) part. If you think it might upset you, after the moment where Edward thinks that he needs to find his flashlight read with caution or simply skip 4 paragraphs (if you skip, don't worry - there will be mentions of what happened in the present!Ed's part without disturbing details).

I am grateful for everyone who added this story to favorites and followed for updates =) I mostly post on archiveofourown, so if you have an account there as well, your kudos there will be welcomed ^_^ (my name is the same there).

January 1932

Fright is about the feeling that you will die.

The true meaning of terror doesn't lie in a static condition, but in a change.

Drachma

He didn't know what he expected to see. Did he really think cities on that side of the border would be that different?

The architecture was indeed unlike the one Edward used to see in Amestris, but the never ending cold, covering the buildings and people's clothes with a thin layer of frosting, blistering in the weak winter sun, was what he had already gotten used to long time ago, to the point when it was beginning to seem normal.

Long... How long had he been here already?

People... People were people, enemies or not. They carried their fears and dreams with them the same as Amestrians. And yet there were some rough edges in Drachmans, that Edward thought were the result of, or perhaps the reason for them being able to build their lives in the heart of the unwelcoming merciless winter.

Ever since they left Briggs, they stuck to moving through big towns, avoiding small villages, or really any settlements at all, if there was a risk to attract too much attention to them from the locals. Big cities were relatively safe for them, as much as being in the middle of the country that was waging a war with their homeland could be considered safe in the first place.

Having just four people in their group, with Edward's alchemy and the knowledge of Drachman's forces disposition inside the country they had acquired when they still were a part of the Amestrian army, it was pretty simple to sneak up on the outposts and small camps, sabotaging the equipment and eliminating Drachman officers if given a chance.

They would spend a day or two in some town before moving forward, never staying for too long, though milling around the locals was much easier than Edward had expected. The looks of all three of his companions were pretty much average, the only problems were Edward's toned skin and the too uncommon color of his eyes.

He would've grown a beard, but facial hair had never agreed with him, so he would just wrap the lower part of his face in a scarf, tug the cape of his coat as low as possible to hide the bright gold of his eyes and wait for the darkness which came here after a day would barely make it to its second half.

He'd picked up the language fast enough to engage in short basic conversations with the locals. He'd prefer Dean or Voss doing that as the ones with the least memorable faces, but it was not an option.

They hadn't seen a lot of friendly faces, if any. Perhaps the long war affected everyone in such way. And Edward was wondering if the Amestrians back home had also forgotten how to smile. He tried to avoid thinking that a big part of Amestris was now occupied by the enemy forces. There was nothing he could do for them now. They were there and he was here. His actions would hardly make a big difference on a big scale, but it was hard to see if anything really would.

More than once he woke up with a feeling of dread, clutching his stomach in a cold fist. He would be lying to himself if he said he never regretted his decision of going here, basically abandoning the people of his country. He knew every alchemist was indispensable now and by leaving he robbed his own country of this war asset. It sit wrong with him, but now more than ever he despised being considered a tool. He was sent here as one and what had this brought to him except for stripping him of the chance of being there for Roy when he could've prevented his death if he had just been there? Only that he had obtained a lot of useful information about the disposition of Drachman forces within Drachman's border - the information no one had been willing to use because there were no one to give the order. He thought he had hardly ever considered himself so useless and his actions so meaningless in his entire life.

It was not a suicide trip, not in the way Voss had meant it. Edward could feel it in the looks the man was sending him when they would settle for the night in some small abandoned building on the verge of a town - if they were lucky; or stuffed in a tiny tent, if they were not. Too small for the four of them and hardly comfortable, it was still a good way to save some body heat. Edward would always be the first one staying on watch. Or rather sitting in this case. Legs shoved in his sleeping bag, moved as far from Dean, Haley or Voss - whoever was unlucky this time to sleep beside him and his emanating cold left leg - he would hunch above a simple notebook which had already been breaking in its spine a bit and would soon just morph into a pile of leaves with nothing to hold them together. A cheap flashlight in his right hand and a pen in his left, he would frantically cover the pages with a scatter of names, dates, alchemical symbols and parts of arrays, barely remembering to switch pages to at least not mix the last two with the rest.

He would have just a couple of hours before the soft rustle of a sleeping bag being unmade beside him would draw his attention to Voss, who, with an eerie precision, always managed to wake up when it was the time for him to take watch, already knowing that Edward, too enwrapped in whatever it was he was doing with his notebook, could stay up all night.

Voss would sit and throw Edward a wary look, but would never ask anything.

Voss had never asked, and Edward wasn't sure if he was ready to talk with anyone about the ideas he had in his mind - too unusual even in his own experience while being in his head, he suspected that given voice they would make him sound like a madman. Or perhaps he just didn't want to see doubt on the face of his friend when he told him what he wanted to accomplish.

Because he knew it was not only straight out insane, but had very little chance of success, if any. He knew he was grasping at straws at that moment, but the straws were really the only things that were left within his reach.

He could not bring the deads back to life - that he had learnt the hard way. Dead was dead, and there were too many dead already that even if that crazy trade of parts of his body for the lives of his loved ones would actually work, he had not enough of him left to trade for everyone he wished were still alive. He could not change what happened, it was all in the past, but perhaps someone else could do that.

He had stumbled upon that old book a few years back, while rummaging through the library section with forbidden alchemy books in the Central Military Command. Forbidden had been not that forbidden anymore for the spouse of the Führer of the country who also happened to be that famous Fullmetal alchemist. A good part of the books there had made very little sense to him, written in languages he hadn't known. He hadn't been looking for anything in particular, just for something he would at least be able to read, if not right away understand.

Xingian was one of the languages he knew well, and he stopped in his haphazard search once his eyes had settled on the familiar words. The book was old, as pretty much every single one in that section. The content was frantic - pieces of arrays, unfinished formulas, big pieces of text, suddenly interrupted with rows and rows of numbers. It all didn't make sense from the first glance, and that only made Edward more determined to figure out what the book was about. It took him a few hours to understand what the texts and arrays represented. He had spent three nights sitting on the floor right under the shelve he had found the book at. On the fourth Drachma declared war to Amestris and the book had been forgotten. But Edward remembered enough of it to begin to realise its importance now, when it might actually matter.

Using Dragon Pulse and long distance alkahestry as the mean to breach the matter of time - Edward had dismissed it as fantasies of a madman before, but right now it had been that last straw he had been able to grasp.

It was true that he had never heard of anyone performing such a complicated alchemy. It didn't make it necessarily impossible per se, but Edward was too familiar with the entity that would most definitely show itself once you try. There was nothing given in this world, especially when it came to attempting to trick death. He would have to pay for what he was trying to achieve, if he was able to make it work in the first place. He wasn't thinking of what Truth might take from him. It didn't matter. If he succeeded, there would be no him left in the first place. He had decided on the price once he started covering the pages of his notebook in the frantic notes, mirroring the ones he had seen in the book of the Xingian author. He couldn't help but wonder, what circumstances that alchemist had found himself in, that had made him begin researching such subject in the first place, and if he had been able to use the knowledge he had left in his book.

Edward would laugh at the irony, but he couldn't feel the muscles in his cheeks responsible for a smile. Perhaps, it was just the cold that had made him feel numb.

"I wanted to marry. Have a family, kids," Haley looked down and scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Edward marveled at how much the youngest member of their group still resembled a normal teenager. Even being in his early twenties, he still had some hopeful sparkle in his eyes, and a light blush would rise on his freckled cheeks in the rare occasions when the man was talking about something personal. He was so young and full of life. And yet he was here, with Edward, deserters of the army, stuck - because now when they were so deep in Drachma it was already much easier to keep moving farther than coming back - inside the enemy country, because he chose to consider Edward's way to be better than the one suggested by the other officers.

The thought that Edward hardly knew himself what that way was and yet he dragged this young man along with him was making him sick. He shifted on the bed uncomfortably - they managed to gather enough money to pay for a room in a small hotel, disguising themselves as the soldier of the Drachman army and Edward doing all the talking. It was a rare possibility to sleep in the relatively warm and fresh sheets, instead of clinging to each other, draped in their warned out sleeping bags. They would be on a move again the early morning but now they had this short time when they could just sit and talk.

Edward couldn't remember who had started the conversation about their plans and dreams they had before the war hit, but now, when he was listening to the young man talking, he couldn't ignore the discomfort raising in him - it was wrong. The dreamy look in the Haley's eyes, the thoughtful sheepish smile and the light blush on his cheeks - it all was wrong, it had no place in this reality they found themselves in. The dreams which would hardly ever have the chance of coming true - there was no point in deluding themselves into thinking otherwise.

And yet Edward couldn't bring himself to stop Haley from talking. If there was anything of his old self still left alive in him is the understanding that having fallen into the dark pit of self-loathing and regrets he shouldn't drag others along with him. Them actually accompanying him in Drachma was more than he would've ever asked from anyone.

So he was sitting there, right leg folded under him, hands massaging absentmindedly the aching muscles near the automail port on his left leg, looking through the curtain of his slightly grown hair at the young man, who in the heat of his story looked like he almost forgot where they were, like there was no endless freezing whiteness outside the window and in their future, and the all the blood and dead they had left behind them. Edward was drinking in the almost carefree expression on the freckled face, thinking that there were times when he could also smile like that, all-teeth grins, happy wrinkles on the edges of the squeezed in laughter eyes.

The pre-war Edward would've smiled, planting his hand on the young man's shoulder, saying words of reassurance.

The Edward-when-Roy-was-still-alive would've silently given himself a promise to do whatever it takes to deliver this young man to the destination where his dreams may come true.

The now-Edward was silent both on the outside and inside. Every word of Haley was settling itself on Edward's shoulders, making him lower his head even more.

He glanced up at the sound of a short but sincere laughter, noticing how even usually indifferent Dean slightly tilted the corner of his lips in a small smile at something Haley had said. He looked to the side at Voss, and there was a tightness in the corners of his eyes Edward hadn't seen for a long time - the hazel eyes were laughing, though the man was silent, looking warmly at his two former subordinates.

Edward brushed his hair from his face and leaned with his back to the wall, listening more closely to what his friends were discussing.

"Raising kids is such a drag, you don't know what you wish for, kid," Dean said to Haley, but his voice sounded friendly.

Haley just laughed, rubbing the back of his head, and didn't comment.

"That's a good goal to have, don't listen to what Dean says," Voss said softly, and Edward noted how the man used the word 'goal' instead of 'dream' making it sound more possible than it actually were. No matter how bad Edward felt about it, he mentally thanked Voss for supporting an optimistic mood. At least someone should do it. "What about you then," Voss turned to look at their other companion. "If not your own family, then how is your perfect life should look like, Dean?"

"Stable," the man answered shortly. "Work, eat, shit, sleep, die. Stable."

"Boring," Haley chuckled, more extending Dean's list of characteristics, rather than commenting on them.

"Yeah, boring," Dean agreed readily, nodding.

"And yet something is missing there," Voss said, frowning in a pretence concentration. "Ah, Edward, what do you think?" he turned to Edward, obviously trying to drag him from the pit of the dark thoughts he had been floating in.

Edward sighed inwardly and shifted on the bed, grabbing the edges of the blanket he was sitting on, and draping it around himself - he was constantly cold.

"Fucking, he forgot fucking," he said tiredly, but ready to take part in this game, knowing, that it might make Voss stop throwing wary looks at him that often. "Work, eat, shit, fuck, sleep, die."

Voss gave him a small smile before turning back to others. Haley was blushing, Dean was shaking his head.

"Too much drag," was all he said.

"Not boring enough?" Voss asked.

"No."

Edward closed his heavy eyelids, hoping that this short participation in the conversation would be enough to count as one, and slowly lowered himself on the pillow, stretching his legs under the blanket, until his feet bumped in Voss's hip, forcing the man to stand up and move to sit on his own bed. Through the haze of shallow sleep Edward could hear that conversation went on, sounding a bit quieter than before, either the men lowering their voices for his sake, or it just seemed that way to the sleepy brain.

He dreamt of fire, warm hands and dark blue eyes.

He woke up at the sound of something heavy colliding with the door somewhere nearby and the screams coming from another room. His eyes flew open to be met by pitch darkness. He heard his companions jumping from their beds on the cold floor, all of them instantly regretting letting their guard down to the point, when they removed some most heavy parts of their clothes before falling asleep.

Edward dashed to the general direction of where he left his duffle bag yesterday, colliding with someone in the process, both of them falling on the floor. Three shots rang and the cut-off scream from another room got followed by a sudden silence. Edward could hear three heavy breaths beside him joined by his own. A crack of a metal accompanied the rustling his hands made when he opened his bag, shoving his hand inside, and he assumed Haley was hurriedly checking if his rifle was loaded. Edward's eyes were wide open in a dire attempt to catch at least a glimpse of light.

He finally found his gun, and Voss's lighter, which had been in Edward's possession for so long already, that it probably could be counted as his own. The gun was useless in such darkness but he could use some fire alchemy for the distraction.

Not daring to stand up, he crawled to where he supposed the door was, judging by the quiet rustles of clothing and bare feet on the floor that his friends probably stack up in the opposite corner. There was no window in the room, but it was only the first floor, so they could escape through the hole in the wall once Edward blocked the door with his alchemy.

He lit up the lighter to see where the door was at the same time as he heard heavy steps of several pairs of feet closing in to their room.

He crossed the rest of the distance to it and clapped his hands at the same time as the door was violently ripped off its hinges, falling down on him.

He stretched his arm blindly and touched the wall with a sound of something small falling on the floor between him and his companions.

It took two seconds for the wall under his palm to move and reshape, blocking the doorway and preventing the intruders to step inside the room.

It took another second before his world exploded with a hurting white light and a deafening thunder.

In a moment it was dark again, but his eyes were hurting and watering, and he wasn't sure if it was just a normal darkness, or the flash had gotten him blind. Through the screeching noise in his head he could only hear muffled distant thumps and his own shuddering breathing, sound coming weirdly from within him.

He tried to move, wincing at the sharp pain in his right leg. He clicked the lighter, not seeing any fire, and he felt his heart beating more violently at the raising panic.

Not his eyes, please, not now, anything but his eyes…

He clicked the lighter again and a small fire appeared in his hand. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and slowly crawled from under the heavy door. He reached his left hand to his flesh leg, moving his palm along it's surface from the hip to the ankles, checking for injuries. His fingers bumped in a small piece of something being stuck in the meat of his shin, and he jerked it out, wincing at the pain. He was sure he would later find more of those in his automail leg, but right now he didn't have time for this.

His ears were still ringing and he couldn't hear anything from his companions, hoping that the silence was just due to his temporary deafness. He thought of looking for a flashlight which he remembered stuffing inside his bag somewhere, but it was only a matter of time when the Drachmans would be able to break in, so he decided against it.

He began to move again, towards the wall opposite of the doorway. Almost instantly his hand made contact with something warm and wet on the floor, and Edward groaned. He clicked the lighter again, a puddle of blood, almost black in the poor light, was glistening with yellow flashes running along the surface from the flickering fire in his hand.

He couldn't remember when he'd gotten sick from the view of blood, war making it almost impossible to see the liquid more than just that - a liquid. But at that moment, crawling in the darkness, his hands and legs soaked in the blood of his friends, almost praying for them to be alive despite everything; almost, but not, because he didn't know anyone who he could've been praying to, and he knew, it wouldn't help anyway, because this is just what his life had been for the past couple of years - him losing everyone and only him always staying alive, only to see someone else die again later, and so on, and so on; he felt a tight fist squeezing his stomach at the feeling of the warm stickiness around his fingers.

He found Haley first. The young man was lying limp on the floor, a hand tight around his rifle, but from the position it was lying in Edward doubted it was still attached to the arm. A few splinters sticking up from his neck and face, blood still pulping from the destroyed artery. Edward moved around him and saw Dean. He could swear the man moved, but it couldn't be right - his face was a mess of blood and skin, his chest burned and Edward couldn't see where his leg was. Dead body moved again, and Edward just sat on his heels, suddenly feeling too tired and just wishing he could lay down and close his eyes for a bit.

The small fire in his hand faded, and he blinked, clicking at his lighter again. He looked up and instead of Dean he saw Voss, all covered in blood and shaking, but since he was shaking, he was still alive, so Edward stretched his hand toward the man, the small fire jumping violently in his shaking fingers, and when a hand took the lighter from him, he clapped, and moved to reach his hand to the wall behind Voss, something soft and still warm under his left hand.

With a blue light, the wall under his palm moved, making an opening for the air which didn't smell like blood. It was still dark outside - of course - but the white snow made the night a little bit brighter, and Edward looked around his shoulder at the destroyed room. Voss was already grabbing both his and Edward's bags, and Edward thought that he would've probably forgotten about them, and the thought of just leaving his notes here because he just forgot, made him shiver. Or perhaps it was just cold wind, blowing inside.

He peeked out, and, not seeing anyone, jumped down. He landed in a snow, that reached his waist, immediately digging its freezing claws into his every nerve, and if he hadn't been shaking before, he would've definitely started now. His duffle bag landed beside him, and he picked it up and as quickly as he could on legs, threatening to bend under him at any moment, moved aside, to make room for Voss, who jumped down the next moment. The man fell down on his knees, and Edward had to make a step back to help him stand up. Voss was soaked in blood, and Edward just hoped, that it wasn't his own.

He didn't know how long they had been limping through the snow, holding at each other, just walking somewhere, far from that place, not saying a single word, but they finally stopped, when they reached the trees of a small forest - far enough from the town, they were relatively safe here.

Edward made a bucket out of the dead log and melted and warmed up snow in it, while Voss set up their tent. Edward washed his hands and was sitting on his knees, watching blankly as Voss washed away blood from his face and hair, immediately wrapping his head in a spare shirt. He emptied the bucket and Edward made another portion of water, so Voss can change into clean clothes and try to wash the blood out of the old ones. He wasn't injured, small scratches on his arms and the side of his face didn't really count. He had been sitting in the corner behind Dean, which eventually saved his life.

Voss finished and emptied the bucket again, spilling red water on the ground. Edward was sitting unmoving, watching the puddle of red mixing with snow, spreading, getting closer to him, under his knees, cold and warm, because the water he'd made was still warm even now, red and white - it was so bright, and he couldn't get his eyes from these colors moving under him, and he thought that he should probably stand up instead of just sitting there, but he couldn't move.

A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He stood up and followed Voss inside the small tent.

He was lying, wrapped in his sleeping bag, left shoulder pressed to Voss's right one. He was looking up unseeing, unable to sleep, but his shaking finally stopped and he could tell Voss wasn't shaking either.

His duffle bag was lying beside his right arm, his notes inside. He wished he could tell himself, that the deaths of their companions didn't matter, because he would make sure to erase this reality from existence, but he couldn't, because right now it mattered to him.

He closed his eyes and remembered Haley and Dean talking about their dreams. He wanted for them to have those perfect lives of theirs no matter what.

He sat up, reaching to his duffle bag and pulling out his notes and a pen and finally a flashlight. His head was reeling from stress and exhaustion, but it wasn't about him anymore, it hardly ever had been. He turned on the flashlight and touched the pen to the paper.

Beside him, Voss sighed quietly but said nothing.

Amestris, Central Military Command

The sound of the door being closed a bit louder than normal, which might have been a sign of someone doing that on purpose, is what wakes Ed up. He raises his head from where it has been lying on the scatter of documents and files on his desk and winces at the strain in his neck. He looks up and is greeted by the usual unimpressed expression on Hawkeye's face, accompanied with those tiny almost invisible details in her seemingly lacking any expression mask, which Ed has learned to read very quickly when Riza became his subordinate - his well being very much depends on his skill of reading her face.

Right now what he sees there makes him straighten up in his chair and brush off very real wrinkles in his jacket. He clears his throat, puts a lock of his hair, which apparently slipped from his ponytail during his impromptu nap on his working desk, behind his ear, and smiles weakly, preparing to be scolded.

This woman is a savior and a menace of his existence. Roy is still laughing the irony up not even trying to hide a relief on his face that he now can be just friends with Hawkeye without additionally having to work with her.

Ed hates him. And himself for thinking it was a good idea to offer Riza a place in the Intelligence department with him.

He knows that even given a chance he wouldn't change it.

"You are not a teenager whose body can afford sleeping in all kind of places without consequences, Edward."

There it is, she must be really unhappy with him if she starts right with his name. Or perhaps it is not working hours yet? Ed carefully looks to the side where the watch is hanging on the wall. Hands are showing a bit after six. He mentally groans - he hardly slept more than three hours, again. And all those three hours in a highly uncomfortable position. He really wants to stand up and stretch to pop a couple of misplaced vertebrae in his spine, but this will only prove Hawkeye's point, and this kind of a heavy artillery he is not willing to give her.

"I was working."

She sighs and lowers herself in the chair opposite from Ed. "You are even worse than your husband."

"Hey, how am I worse?" Ed leans forward, putting his hands on the desk. "He sleeps on his desk because he is slacking, and I was working!"

"That's exactly my point, Edward - at least he gets some rest. And he sleeps on the couch, not his desk."

Ed throws a glance on his own couch Hawkeye made him put in his office after catching him sleeping on his desk for the first time. He can't remember ever sleeping on this couch, using it now mostly to stack up his books there. He might need to get an actually bookshelf later.

Ed knows Hawkeye is right, but his dignity doesn't allow him to admit this.

"He is an old man, he needs more rest, than I do," he grumbles.

"You started calling him an old man when he was younger than you are now," Riza answers with an amused tilt of her brow.

Ed falls back in his chair, and looks at Hawkeye with what he hopes is the expression of the utter betrayal on his face. "Not you too."

The barely noticeable tightening in the edges of her eyes is an indication that she is probably inwardly laughing at him right now. "He told you this too, didn't he?"

"I hate you both," Ed mutters, burying his face in his left hand.

"Go home and get some sleep," Hawkeye says, standing up. "Be back at twelve hundred."

"I have work to do."

"You always have work to do, Edward. And when you don't, you find one. There is nothing urgent for today."

Ed sighs and straightens up. "All right," he says, and fishes out a clean piece of paper and a pen from under the mess of the documents on the desk. "But while I'm on it, find me everything you can on these two men," he quickly writes down Haley's and Dean's names and passes the note to Hawkeye. "I suppose they should be a part of the military, but I can't be certain."

"Yes, sir," Hawkeye answers calmly but doesn't leave, looking at Ed expectedly.

He sighs and stands up, resisting the urge to bend his back - these blasted vertebrae should be taken care of as soon as he is out of Hawkeye's sight.

"All right, all right, I'm leaving!" he mumbles under his breath snatching his coat from the hook on a wall.

"I will call to the mansion in half an hour to make sure you made it home in one piece, sir," Ed hears behind his back while he is fastening the buttons of his coat, and winces. This means she is going to confirm he actually doesn't end up in the library or in Roy's or Voss's offices nose deep in some book or a document he snitched from his office without her noticing, what he actually has been planning to do in the first place.

He just nods in answer, having no chances to talk her out of it, and leaves his office. Walking through the main office of Intelligence department he makes a quick dash to Hawkeye's desk and snitches out a ration bar from the drawer, hearing the door behind him being quietly closed followed by a meaningful "hm".

"Later, Major," he raises his hand in goodbye and rushes to the exit, shoving a half of the ration bar in his mouth.

Once in the corridor he places his hands on the small of his back, holding the rest of his snack in between his teeth, and bends back, letting out a relieved sigh as he feels two vertebrae slipping back in their places. He has to agree that he might not be as fit for sleeping in such uncomfortable places as he was when he was sixteen. At least he can't complain on his knees, or more like one knee in his case, as Roy does.

Stupid old man, Ed thinks rather lovingly, walking along the Military Command corridor towards the stairs. Spends too much time at his desk and too little in their gym room in the mansion. Ed will have to work on this.

He contemplates for a moment going to Roy's office to check if the man slept on the couch there again, but decides against it - he doesn't have much time before Hawkeye makes that check-call and sends someone to look for him and drag him home if she discovers he is not there yet. He doubts Voss is on his work place yet, Ed will need to give him a call later. So he rushes down the stairs and out of the building, but instead of walking towards the gates, he turns to the side and crosses military grounds to the library building.

He knows he can do this anytime later, but the almost morbid curiosity is pushing him to the library steps.

Inside he is greeted by a very sleepy librarian who, from the looks of him, just arrived at his working place and hasn't had the time yet to fully open his eyes. He sighs in a mix of recognition and slight irritation once he sees who this early visitor is and salutes lazily on Ed's greeting. The young man is hardly surprised to see Fullmetal Alchemist in the library at such an hour, but it doesn't mean he is going to enjoy it. Ed could hardly blame him for the suspicious looks the man is giving him, knowing, that Ed has caused enough troubles for the librarians during all the years he has been a part of the military, with his unexpected visits at the unholy hours and even breaking in a few times during nights when the library was closed, because he needed that one book right now and it can't wait till the morning, what do you mean the library was closed, I can swear the lock was open, you don't understand, it is the matter of life and death!

Ed puts his signature in the visitors journal and requests the access to the section with forbidden for the majority of library visitors alchemy books. As the head of Intelligence he doesn't need a special written clearance every time he needs a book from that section. Except for the one he wrote himself several years ago, get it signed by Roy and just handed it to the library personnel with instructions to keep it for themselves, because he will hardly ever have a spare mental capacity to remember always having this thing on me when I need a book, do I look like a fucking paper holder to you?!

The book he came here for is in the same place as he remembers from that memory in his dream. He opens it and he is startled by how the scattered handwriting, though being so different, yet looks so familiar - the book is written in almost the same frantic manner as the notes Roy received from Edward all those years ago, as those notes with pieces of the array and alchemy symbols, only Ed can see in his dreams. And he couldn't help but wonder if this Xingian author succeeded in what he wanted to achieve, and this book perhaps doesn't belong in this reality as the notes in Roy's safe don't belong here.

He sits at the table and leafs through the old book, noting that the schemes and formulas he has managed to remember from the notes his previous self was making in that weary notebook, are hardly much different from the ones in the book. He takes a few folded sheet of paper he snitched out from his desk this morning without Hawkeye noticing - otherwise she would've instantly realised where he was going to head instead of his house - and quickly writes down the parts he saw in the notes during his dream. He compares them with the book and adds a few more notes and schemes, regretting, that he can't take this book out of the library to work with it in a comfort of his office or the mansion where he could spend endless hours engrossed with his research without worrying that he will be kicked out as he will be here eventually, because the library will be closing around six in the evening.

Absorbed in the entirely new level of alchemy, or in that case, alchestry, which is unfolding its secrets before his eyes, he forgets about time, only wondering absentmindedly, why he hasn't tried to find any information on that time-crossing array his previous self used to get here, forgetting in his rush to learn something completely new and fascinating about the hurting look on Roy's face every time he only but wonders out loud of what type of alchemy could possibly do such complicated thing as crossing time.

On the verge of his hearing he registers muffled voices coming from the entrance of the library, but doesn't pay them much attention, thinking automatically that it must be someone coming to get a book or two.

He is halfway through the book, and the papers he brought with him are already covered on the both sides with notes and schemes, when he hears a chair being moved when someone slowly sits across from him.

"Slacking from your official slacking, Colonel Elric?" Ed hears the familiar voice and looks up in the half lidded hazel eyes. "Hawkeye is looking for you. And she is really angry," Voss says, putting his elbow on the back of his chair and slipping the mask of utter laziness on his face, but Ed knows this man too well to miss the sharpness with which his eyes are examining the book and the notes in front of Ed. He might not be an alchemist, but he is far from stupid, and Ed closes the book, folds his notes and puts them in the inner pocket of his coat.

"I got carried away. What time is it?"

"Nine hundred. Hawkeye was in my office the second I came inside, telling me that if I consider myself your friend, I should be the one fetching you, before she did it herself. She said, you would be grateful. Are you grateful, Edward?" Voss asks, his eyes clearly laughing.

"I am."

"That woman is scary, Edward."

"You have no idea," Ed sighs, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his flesh hand.

"Do I want to know what it is you have been doing with an old alchemy book from the forbidden section this early in the morning?"

"Why do you think it's an alchemy book?" poor attempt to avoid the topic, but Ed really doesn't want to discuss this.

"I can recognise an array when I see one, Edward."

Ed stands up, takes the book from the table and walks to the shelf it was standing on. "Was just curious about something," he says, putting the book back on the shelf and heading to exit. "Nothing serious."

"If you say so," Voss answers, standing up and following Ed out of the library.

They stop on the stairs, Ed tugs his collar higher, hiding from the winter wind, which is sending shivers down his spine, and he wonders if he ever going to be able to look at winter without seeing Drachma and feeling a desperation which is not even his, but it has implanted itself too deep in his bones to ignore it.

Voss lights up a cigarette and breaths out a little white cloud, thick in a cold air. He squints on the high but still bright winter sun and glances at Ed.

"Roy will know eventually that you are researching it," he says calmly, studying Ed's face.

Having too perceptive friends definitely has some downsides, Ed thinks.

"Not if I can help it," he answers but doesn't really believe it - with how easily he forgets about everything being absorbed in his thoughts, he knows it's just a matter of time until he leaves his notes somewhere where Roy can accidentally see them. His husband will not be pleased…

Voss understands this too, and doesn't answer, only tilting his brow in amusement.

"Say, Mark, do you have anyone named Haley or Dean in your command?" Ed asks wishing to change the topic.

Voss glances at him curiously. "Haley, no. There is Dean though, great guy, a bit too quiet, but perhaps I am too used to your tantrums, that now all normal people seem not loud enough," he says with a chuckle and jumps a step down to avoid having Ed's fist imprinted in his shoulder.

"I am not throwing tantrums, you asshole!" Ed yells at him and shoves his hands in the pockets burying his nose in the edge of his collar. "Tell me about Dean."

"I can send you his file if you want," Voss shrugs.

"I don't need a file. Tell me what you know about him," Ed raises his hand to stop Voss from answering right away, and adds, "Personal things. I don't care about his work skills."

"There is not much to tell," Voss shrugs again. "He is a good guy, very loyal. But I don't think he has any life outside the military. His is an orphan and I've never heard him talking about having a partner or going on dates."

"I see," Ed answers, not really surprised, but happy for Dean having a possibility to live his stable boring life he wanted to. "Well, I'll be going now. Do you think Hawkeye will be pissed if I turn up in the office now?"

"She said she didn't want to see your pretty face until twelve hundred," Voss answers with a pleased smile.

"She didn't say petty, you ass."

"She might have," Voss laughs and makes a few steps down the stairs to be out of Ed's reach just in case.

"She doesn't use words like that."

"Doesn't mean she doesn't think them," the laughing man starts slowly walking backwards towards the main building, not wishing to risk turning his back to Ed.

"I will murder you," Ed mutters halfheartedly.

"You will be court-martialed, colonel. What a shame it would be, just imagine, the Führer's spouse, famous Fullmetal Alchemist - court-martialed," Voss chuckles, ducking to avoid a messy snowball Ed threw at him, and makes a few more steps away from the raging alchemist.

"I hate you!" Ed wipes his wet hands on the sides of his coat and puts them back in the pockets - the left one is getting really cold already.

"Sure you don't," Voss answers, smiling. With a short wave of his hand he turns his back to Ed. "If you go back to library, I'm telling Roy," he adds and without waiting for the answer, walks away.

Ed stands there for a moment, breathing in a cool air. His left hand is still a bit cold after he made that snowball to throw at his friend.

He looks around and sees white. And all the different colors, slightly hidden by snow, but still there. He notices that he is still smiling only when his cheeks go numb. And it is a good kind of numb, and the snow around him is just snow and not his enemy, and the cold is not that bad and it's just is, and not trying to dig its freezing tendrils to his very soul.

And Ed thinks, that winter is not that bad and maybe it is also the thing that he has been supposed to change for himself.

Today is not his day, it hardly ever is after he is having those memory-like dreams, so he is not really surprised that he manages to oversleep, and he only hopes to avoid Hawkeye's rage because at least he had some rest as she wanted him too.

He bursts in the Intelligence department office, startling a couple of his subordinates who started working under him just recently - the rest hardly even raise their heads from the documents they are working with, being used long ago to Ed being loud, sudden and rarely predictable. He rushes past Hawkeye's desk signing her to follow and falls in his chair once he is inside his office, throwing his coat at his desk not bothering for it bringing the document scattered on the surface to even worse mess - it is his mess, and no matter how confusing it might look for anyone else, Ed knows his way through it.

Hawkeye silently hands him two thin files, and he choses the one with Haley's name on the top, sliding the second back to her.

"I talked with Voss about Dean, turns out he is his subordinate. I won't need his file, thanks."

Ed wonders if she is going to ask him anything or scold him for spending the morning in the library, but she just nods, takes Dean's file and walks out of the office.

He reaches to his coat and takes his notes from the inner pocket, unfolding the papers and putting them in front of him. He indeed has no urgent work to do today, and what he has, can easily wait till tomorrow, so he is going to spend the rest of the day figuring out the details of that array. He is not going to use it of course, there is no need for that, they have made a good use of this second chance his previous self granted them, so he doesn't really understand Roy's worries. He thinks about actually confronting his husband about it - they discuss his dreams, they come up with plans of a better use of the information they received about the previous version of their reality, they do all this together and yet only the topic of this array still remains taboo, and Roy's eyes looking distant and lost every time Ed mentions it.

Ed doesn't like it. Neither having something he is growing to afraid to even mention to his husband, nor the obvious discomfort the topic brings to the man.

Having decided he gathers both his notes and the Haley's file in one pile and walks out of his office, letting Hawkeye know where he is heading.

He quickly looks through Haley's file while he is walking up the stairs to the top floor, not bumping into people only because the head of Intelligence Department, Fullmetal Alchemist and the spouse of the current Führer of the Amestris walking the Central Military Command corridors nose deep in a paperwork or a book and not paying attention to his surroundings is such a common sight, that most of the people working in the building have long gotten used to it, and learnt to get out of Ed's trajectory fast. That Ed's body automatically choses the same routes once his mind occupies itself with reading and there being only three routes he uses during a day most often - to Roy's or Voss's offices and the last, but not the least, to the mess hall - makes it even easier to avoid accidents on the way.

He is in the waiting room leading to the Führer's office in no time, and he closes the folder to nod to Roy's secretary. She is holding the phone receiver between her ear and shoulder and listening to someone talking on the other end, and judging by her expression, she's been at it for awhile.

She smiles weakly when she spots Ed, and points to the door to Roy's office, mouthing, "Go ahead".

Ed enters the office, closing the door behind him.

"Busy?" he asks, walking to the table, where Roy is sitting, staring blankly at some document in front of him, chin resting on his hand.

"Not for you, love," Roy answers a bit too fast, looking up with an almost blissful smile, and Ed wonders what played the main role in boosting Roy's mood - him personally, or the opportunity to postpone having to deal with clearly troublesome task if only for the short time of Ed's visit. Ed thinks it might be both. "Tell me you are not here to talk about Cretans," he adds then, worry rising in his eyes.

Ed lowers himself in the chair across from Roy and puts his documents on the table. "What's with Cretans?"

"Oh, good," Roy sighs with relief and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He looks tired, but it's a normal tired, nothing a good sleep (or a good sex, Ed thinks) can't fix, so Ed is not particularly worried. Roy has a history of working himself to the point when he was literally losing conscious. So has Ed, but that was years ago, and things have been looking much better now, especially after they managed to - finally - sign a treaty with Drachma last year.

"Cretans are up to something?" Ed tries again, but doesn't really hope for an answer - if it was something serious, he would've already known, and Roy for sure would told him earlier himself.

"No, it's nothing serious, just some mild bureaucracy pains," Roy answers and leans forward, reaching to Ed's hand from across the table. "You fell asleep on your desk again last night?"

Ed takes Roy's offered hand in his, caressing the knuckles with his thumb. "Riza told you?"

"She didn't. But I happen to notice the lack of my husband with me in our bed," he answeres, squeezing Ed's hand lightly.

"Oh," Ed looks down, feeling guilty. "I thought perhaps you slept here and didn't notice. Sorry."

"That's all right, love," Roy raises their joined hands and places a small kiss on every finger of Ed's hand, and Ed is forced to fight the goofy smile - he came here for a serious talk, dammit, why is Roy always like this?! "Just don't overwork yourself."

"I know my limits," Ed mumbles, pulling his hand from Roy's grip and opening Haley's file on the first page.

Roy tilts a brow, "I am pretty sure you actually don't, Ed."

Ed looks up at him sharply, but Roy's expression is soft and there is no indication that the man is planning to argue about this now, so Ed lets it slip.

"Haley and Dean," Ed says simply.

"Oh," Roy answers and his smile fades.

They've talked about both men more than once already, Ed having a whole series of quite uneventful dreams during last few months, not that he is complaining. Considering the circumstances his previous self found himself in, such dreams - every single one in fact - could've been way more unpleasant, but except for having to basically slip into the skin of someone who did lost his loved ones and felt it with his every cell, several previous dreams were not that bad.

Or perhaps Ed has just gotten used to them.

"Yeah," Ed breaths out. "We knew it would happen eventually, right?"

"How did it happen?" Roy stopped asking if Ed was all right after these dreams some time ago. It was quite useless - Ed has always come to him with his worries and nightmares anyway, knowing, that all of him - including the him from the dreams - will be fully accepted no matter what. Honestly, it is still a bit scary for Ed to be loved like that, but it balances somehow by the intensity of his own feelings he has for this man.

Crazy, he thinks sometimes, not really understanding how that happened, but happy that he is still feeling surprised. Crazy, it is so crazy.

"A grenade," Ed answers simply, taking a deep breath, trying not to let the memories affect him that much. "Small dark room, they were all sleeping." Ed sees Roy's face darkening, and looks away. "I think they died instantly. Voss was sitting behind Dean and wasn't injured much," he pauses and inhales slowly. "He was under the fallen out door when the explosion got off. Closed the doorway with alchemy, they escaped through the wall. Got some scratches on the legs, nothing major," Ed glances back at Roy, noting a worry in his dark eyes, and finishes in a quiet voice, "He almost left his notes there while escaping, Roy."

"Almost?"

"Voss got their bags," Ed explains.

"You will have to thank the man one day, Ed."

"I know. I will tell him eventually," Ed closes his eyes for a moment and pinches the bridge of his nose, shoving the middle finger of his other hand in general direction of Roy's face, when the man chuckles quietly at Ed's gesture. "But not now. Maybe when it's all over."

Roy nods, and looks at the documents lying before Ed. "What is this?" he asks, pointing at the opened file.

"I asked Hawkeye to check if we know something about them," Ed answers, turning the file and sliding it across the desk to Roy. "They talked about their dreams, before they got attacked. I wanted to see if they've managed to get what they wanted now."

Roy looks down at the file and glances back at Ed. "Only Haley?"

"Dean works with Voss, so I just talked with Mark about him. Nothing really special, but looks like the man is living that stable life he wanted," Ed smirked. "I'm not worried about him. Haley is a different matter."

Roy frowns and starts reading the file.

"He said he wanted to have his own family, raise kids and live in the country," Ed speaks while Roy is reading. "Nothing special, guess lots of people have a dream like that." Roy turns the page, and Ed sees him raising a brow. "But you should've seen how his eyes shone when he talked about it, Roy. Guess it was special for him, he grew up in a big family himself, so I suppose it is what really mattered to him."

Roy finally looks up, a mix of different emotions rushing across his face before he quickly hides them behind one of his masks. He tilts his brow and the corner of his mouth. Ed grins.

"First of all, Ed, I applaud you for the suspense." Ed smirks and leans back in his chair, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. "And second," and here Roy actually sounds amused when he points at some part in the file before him, "four? Four children?! What is he, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three," Ed corrects and smiles happily. "Desk-officer in South city. And his wife is from Aerugo, isn't this great?"

Roy closes the file and hands it back to Ed with a soft smile.

"Twenty three, and already four kids," he says in amusement. "And here we are, 32 and 46 year old men spending our nights face down on the desks in our offices," he finishes with a smirk, which quickly fades away.

"We are workaholics, Roy, even with your tendency for slacking, you still are, this will never change," Ed says watching Roy's face. "Workaholics suck at raising kids."

"Of course, Ed," Roy answers with a smile and if Ed didn't know him so well, he would've missed a flicker of something that looks like regret in dark eyes before Roy lowers his gaze.

Ed leans forward, placing his hands on the armseats. "Roy, tell me you are not serious."

"Mm," the only answer Ed gets, and Roy is not even looking at him.

Ed drops himself back in his chair and stares at his husband in utter horror.

"Oh my god, you are! You are serious!" he points at him with an accusing finger, and when Roy looks up his face is a perfect mask of indifferent politeness and Ed begins to slightly regret that his words came out that harsh.

"I have work to do, Ed," he says. "So if you don't have anything else―"

"I am not fit for that, Roy, you know that," Ed interrupts him. "I've always thought..."

"Forget it, Ed," Roy says, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a moment.

Ed sighs, contemplating if this is a good time for bringing up the research he is doing. But no matter when they talk about, it will not be a pleasant conversation, and the mood is already ruined, so he might as well go for it now.

He takes the pile of the notes he made today and silently hands it to Roy. One look at the diagrams and array drafts, and Roy is frowning at him with a mix of worry and anger.

I am not getting laid tonight, am I? Ed thinks, sighing inwardly.

"Why now?" Roy asks first, as if testing the waters.

Ed doesn't see the reason to lie, so he tells him about the book he saw in his dream last night and that he found it later in the military library.

"Burn the notes. And forget you ever attempted to make this research," Roy says grimly, placing a hand on top of the papers in question. "Thankfully I know the limits of your genius well enough to assume, that even if someone would get their hands on the original research, what took you two years might take others a lifetime. It is still the risk though, so perhaps I should see to destroying the book too. Before you told me, I didn't actually know it existed."

Ed jumps in his seat, slamming his hands on the desk. "Fuck you, Roy! I'm sick of tiptoeing around the subject for years! What's your damn problem with this?! And don't you dare telling me what I do with it, Führer or not!" Ed finishes, expectedly falling into reaction of anger, even though he planned to try having this conversation in a more civilized manner.

"We are equal partners in this relationship, Ed, I can't and won't forbid you doing what you want," Roy answers coldly, retreating even further behind his mask, and Ed has to force himself to calm down, otherwise he will definitely miss the real emotions which are occurring from time to time in the depths of Roy's eyes. "But I can ask you not to."

Ed hisses in a breath and makes himself sit back in his chair, still leaning forward and barely controlling his anger which has accumulated in him during all the years he couldn't even mention the array without the conversation reducing to something ugly.

"If you are afraid, that I―" Ed begins carefully but Roy interrupts him.

"You can't really believe I would think you might use it, Ed. This is not the reason why I am so against you finishing it," he says, and Ed can't suppress the surprised "Oh" - all this time he has actually thought that was the only reason Roy gets so defensive when the subject is raised.

"Then why?" Ed asks in confusion.

"Oh, honey, that you fail to see why, is exactly the reason I don't want you to work on this array. When you are caught up in your research you rarely able to think of the possible consequences of bringing the knowledge like that in a world," Roy says and runs his hand through his hair bringing it in disarray. "In fact, if that Edward realised that, since he didn't pass on any information regarding the array along with the notes, you should be able to see it too," he finishes and looks at Ed expectedly.

Ed leans back, tilts his head and tugs at the end of his ponytail. "You think someone else might found out and use it?" He can't believe this thought has never appeared in his mind before.

Roy nods and his face relaxes a bit, not that guarded anymore. "This is the risk I am not willing to take. Even for the sake of you satisfying your curiosity," he says and then adds, "Especially in the face of your curiosity, considering that when engrossed in research you tend to leave pieces of it all over the places." Ed makes an attempt to pout and Roy tilts the corner of his mouth in a small smile. "Oh, don't start to deny it now, when it is probably the reason why you decided to tell me about it now in the first place," he says with a soft chuckle.

"You know me too damn well," Ed mumbles and throws a glance at his notes which are still resting under Roy's palm.

"That I do," Roy answers and the change in his voice makes Ed look up at him. There is a deep frown between his brows and a tension in the corners of his eyes. He flips the pages of Ed's notes, looking for something, then reaches to the drawer and fishes out a blank sheet of paper. "That's why I know that you won't be able to sleep at night if you don't see it," he says, starting to quickly draw something on the paper. "Not that you actually do now anyway," he adds quietly, without looking at Ed, and Ed's heart clenches at the hurt in Roy's voice.

Roy draws for a few more minutes and Ed starts fidgeting in his seat. Finally Roy finishes and hands Ed the paper with a complicated array.

"You can touch it - I left out one sign, so it won't activate," Roy says quietly, when Ed takes the paper. "Even with it though, I suspect it won't work anyway, being that size. But as you may guess, I haven't actually checked that, so I prefer to stay on the safe side."

Ed glances at him, but Roy is looking down blankly, and Ed feels the urge to reach to him, but somehow feels this will not be welcome at this time, so he turns his attention to the array in his hands.

It is by far the most complicated and yet at the same time simple array he has ever seen in his life. He recognises a few elements from the book he read and the notes his previous self was taking in his dream, but the rest is completely new to him, and he draws in a shaky breath, realising, that it would probably take a few years even with the book in hand to finish it, and how his previous self managed to do it in two years having just the memories of the book, is beyond him. He guesses, having actually a motivation for it beyond just plain curiosity, played a key role.

He follows the complicated lines with his eyes, marvelling at the beautiful simplicity of the array, when suddenly realising something, he throws his head up, staring at Roy with widened eyes.

"Wait, you said you didn't know about the book with the original research."

Roy looks up at him with a once again guarded expression.

"So?" he answers shortly.

"Don't tell me you fucking remembered it!" Ed unconsciously raises his voice. "All these years!"

Roy places his elbows on the table and bends his arms, hiding the lower part of his face behind his hands. Ed hates when he does it with him, which thankfully happens extremely rare. He wants to reach and pull at these hands and grab that face and make Roy look at him until Roy's expression changes to something less guarded and more trusting.

"It was a few meters in diameter and shining like a new year tree for what I think was at least half an hour," Roy answers, looking at Ed with searching eyes. "I am still an alchemist, Ed. I am quite capable of remembering one more array."

"It's not just one more array, Roy," Ed says, feeling a mix of worry and anger rising up in his chest, and wondering if it's how Roy felt every time Ed started talking about the alchemy which brought his other self back in past. The man had this array memorised for years, and yet he told Ed nothing. Wasn't he trusting Ed with this information? Ed refuses to think that was the case.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Roy cuts off sharply.

Ed slams his hand along with the paper in his hand flat on the desk, and stands up.

"I am not him, Roy!" he almost shouts, holding Roy's gaze, even though the intensity of different feelings in the depths of dark eyes makes him want to avert his eyes. He feels small and confused. He feels as if he is again looking at the shadow of the man he loves sitting in front of the fireplace, shoulders hunched under the weight of a sudden responsibility sitting itself there. "I am not him," Ed repeats in a desperate attempt to drag Roy from whatever dark thoughts are occupying his mind now.

"I know."

"Then stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like you were looking at me when you told me about this 14 years ago!" Ed raises his voice again. "To not see this look in your eyes ever again is a big part of why what we have been doing is so important to me!"

"I can say the same about you."

"The hell does that mean?"

Roy closes his eyes for a moment, and then sighs and stands up. "When was the last time you looked at your reflection in a mirror, Ed?" he asks, suddenly no edges in his voice anymore, and it sounds soft and tired.

"Today, when I brushed my teeth, Roy," Ed answers dryly. "The fuck is wrong with my reflection?"

"That's not what I…" Roy trails off, and sighs. He walks around the table to where Ed is standing and puts his hand on the small of Ed's back, softly pushing him to walk with him. "Come on."

They walk to the door in silence and step out of Roy's office, Roy's hand is still a warm presence on Ed's back.

Roy's secretary looks up at them in question.

"Evelyn, take a half an hour break, will you?" Roy says to her with a smile. The young woman nods, stands up and walks out.

"Please tell me we are having makeup sex on your secretary's desk," Ed chuckles, glancing at Roy with a brow tilted in amusement.

Ed sees Roy's facial muscles work to suppress a smile. "Some other time, Ed. We are not finished with our conversation yet."

Ed sighs in a not so fake disappointment, but he understands that the man is right. They walk to the tall mirror hanging on the wall, and Roy stands behind Ed, his hand on Ed's hip.

"So, what are we looking at?" Ed asks impatiently.

"Your face."

"What's with it?"

"You tell me," Roy cuts off, and Ed scowls in irritation.

He looks at their reflection, Roy is beside him and the man is looking at Ed through the mirror. Ed turns his attention to his own face, nothing he hasn't seen before, but it's not like he's actually taken special time to study his own reflection. So he looks. First thing he notices is that his ponytail is probably too messy and he will need to fix it later. He tugs at the end of it near his hip and marvells when he has managed to grow it so long. He thinks back to when he was looking through the eyes of the other Edward in the small mirror, when he was holding his hair in one hand and scissors in the other. He remembers that what striked him back then the most were deep shadows under the eyes which had lost their light. He swallows nervously and looks at the shadows under his own eyes, the eyes so different, but the lack of normal sleep is showing. The frown between his brows is a bit too deep for his liking and he makes himself relax his face a bit. He looks tired and on his age, which has never actually happened before, and he knows the years are not to blame, but his own mind, stuck in the loop of living two lives at once, and if he can't do anything about the dreams, he knows reflecting on it during the daytime is his own choice. But he doesn't want it to be otherwise, no matter how hard it gets for him, he believes it's only fair.

"Well, I can't do anything about it, now, can I?" Ed says quietly.

"I wish it wasn't that way," Roy mutters quietly near Ed's ear.

"Someone should pay for what we have now, Roy," Ed answers, catching his eyes in the reflection. "It has always been that way."

"You have already paid."

"No, I haven't!" Ed answers, turning around.

"Why should it always be you?!"

"Because I don't want you to do it!" Ed shouts, grabbing a handfuls of Roy's jacket in both hands, looking fiercely in the dark blue eyes. "And it's not like I can change it, Roy, you know that," he adds in a quieter voice, not breaking the eye contact with his husband. "You don't have to worry, Roy. You know I can handle this. Just please, please, stop looking at me like at a ghost sometimes."

Roy raises his hand and cups Ed's face, brushing his cheek with a thumb.

"I won't," he says softly, bringing their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, love."

Ed pulls him closer to press their lips together, and he feels Roy's smile in their kiss.

"So, is it some other time already?" Ed asks mischievously, throwing meaningful glances at the desk behind Roy.

Roy chuckles and steps back. "As much as I wish to molest my beloved husband in every place which would physically allow this, I unfortunately can not disregard the matter of social and, in my case, political limitations to such activities."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"That means 'no", Ed," Roy answers with a smile and walks to the door in his office. "Wait till we are home tonight. That in the unlikely case that you won't fall asleep on your desk again."

Ed shoves him jokingly on the shoulder and follows inside the office. "Jerk."

"...off I will have to in that unfortunate scenario," Roy chuckles, sitting down in his chair. "Again."

Ed opens his mouth to deliver another insult, but quickly closes it, not willing to risk Roy twisting his words into something abominable.

Ed sits down and collects his notes and the sheet with the array from the table. He doesn't have to look at the array again, he knows, he will never forget its lines, and just hopes neither he, nor Roy - hopefully the only two people on the planet with the knowledge like that - will never have to use it again. He holds the pile of papers in his right hand and looks at Roy.

Roy raises his hand and snaps, small fire appearing on the tip of his index finger. He could easily spread it farther, but he lets Ed catch the fire himself and direct it to the documents in his hand. Ed picked up some fire alchemy skills throughout the years, he is nothing like Roy when it comes to controlling fire while fueling it, but he can do small things, and burning such an important part of their lives, even with the knowledge of it still present in their minds, he wants to do himself, and he is grateful to Roy, that the man understands this.

A few moments and the papers are gone, leaving just a tiny trace of ash on the floor. Ed lowers his hand and sits limply back in his chair. Roy is handing him Haley's file, and Ed stretches his hand to take it.

Roy is looking at him with a warmth in his eyes and there are no traces of that guarded look he was giving Ed recently.

Ed looks down at the Haley's file.

Four kids, a wife from Aerugo, a house in the country.

Ed smiles and thinks that the document in his hand is far more important than the ones, he just burnt.

Author's notes:

I am curious what you guys think of Voss. His character just appeared out of nowhere, though I wasn't initially planning to have an OC in this story. I really like him and he will be playing a big part in the next chapter (next update will be a short Interlude though).

I started writing the last chapter for this story, and it gave me feels. I suppose it's obvious what kind of dream Ed will have as the very last one. It will bring this story back to where it all started and I am very emotional about this xD

Leave me a review, I would love to know your thoughts ^_^