"I can't use alchemy," Ed admits to the room, and to himself. He was hunched in a ball on the bed, looking at Roy's back as he stoked the fire.
"I guessed as much," Roy said with a small huff. He straightened from his task. He joined Ed on the bed, a hand coming to rest on the top of Ed's head. "Can't say I blame you for it."
Ed shuddered, absently leaning into the comforting touch. "I just start thinking about that place again. It's like I'm there and those guys are trying to get me to transmute things." His real hand goes to his other shoulder. His fingers danced across the space where metal fused with skin. "I can feel the nerves disconnecting, and reconnecting. Over, and over, and over."
Roy pulled him into a hug, also moving Ed's hand away from the shoulder. "I know," Roy said. "I'm sorry, Ed. You should never have had to go through that." He makes a couple vague shushing sounds when Ed sniffled. Roy picked up a blanket laying forgotten on the mattress. He used his free arm to wrap it around his son's shoulders, hoping the weight of the item would ground Ed to the present. "I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault," Ed sniffled, his hands curling into the blanket, drawing it closer. They sat in silence for several minutes. Neither feeling like moving, neither feeling like speaking. The fire crackled in the small cabin, providing them with light and warmth. Outside night had fallen and they could faintly hear crickets chirping. Roy felt Ed shifting under his arm, pressing closer.
Roy wished he could find some magic words to help the small blond. Something that took all his pain away, or at least made his nights less stressful. For the life of him, the raven's head came up blank. There was nothing he could say to make Ed feel better. With that realization, a wave of helplessness washed over him. He really was useless, in or out of rain. He was incapable of protecting, healing, or leading. He wasn't a good Colonel, nor was he a good… father?
"What if I can't use alchemy again?" Ed asked, so softly it might as well have been a whisper. His quiet words might as well have been a shout for Roy because of how they pulled him out of the depths of his mind. Bringing him back to the present.
"Then you can't use alchemy again," Roy said simply.
Ed looked up at him, horrified. Roy wished he didn't have to have that expression directed at him. It was too much like the expression Ed had given their captors. "What do you mean?" Ed demanded, his voice rising a couple notches in volume. "Alchemy is all I have. If I can't transmute, then what good am I? It's not like I have skills in anything other than alchemy." He tugged on the end of his hair in frustration. Roy was quick to put a stop to that behavior. "What if we have to go back to central and be state alchemists? How can I be a state alchemist without alchemy? How can I help Al get his body back?"
"Ed," Roy said gently, but firmly, "Breathe."
Ed breathed.
"We'll figure it out," Roy said, pressing both of Ed's hands between his own. It made Roy aware of just how much smaller Ed's hands were. The hands of a child, not an alchemist. Someone who never should have been…there. "If you can't use alchemy again, we'll make it work. We're not going to go back to the military, Ed. We're going to be fine. We can still help your brother even without you using alchemy."
"But I'm use-"
"-Ful," Roy finished. "You're very useful, even without alchemy. You're smart, Ed. You're a genius. You could do anything you wanted to, okay?"
Ed obviously didn't believe him, if his eyes were anything to go by. However, the kid nodded, burying himself into Roy's chest, arms wrapping in a vice like grip. Roy hugged him back, glad he could at least comfort the kid. His kid. "It's going to be okay?" Ed asked, sounding uncertain and scared. A child who didn't know better.
"It'll be okay," Roy promised. "If not now, then later. But it'll be okay."
"They won't make us go back to the military?"
"If Hawkeye or the others try anything, we'll run," Roy promised. "Slightest hint of danger, and I'm getting us out of here. Even if we have to walk four hundred miles and sleep in weird cabins." Ed chuckled at that. "I'll protect you." Roy emphasized the last one with a squeeze before finally releasing Ed.
Ed sat back and gave Roy a watery smile. He looked like he might start the waterworks at any moment, but it was better than it was. "Thank you," Ed said.
Roy ruffled his hair. "Any time, kiddo." Roy stretched his arms above his head, making an overly exhausted sounding groan. "We better get some sleep, Ed. We've got a big day tomorrow by the looks of it."
Ed nodded and looked nervously towards the hammock. "Can I sleep here?" he asked.
"You don't even have to ask," Roy said, putting the fire out for the evening. "Nightmares still troubling you?"
"I go back every time I try to sleep," Ed confessed.
Roy wished he had a cure for nightmares. "Alright then. Guess I'm going to have to fight the nightmares off."
It was too dark to see but he guessed that Ed was pouting, scowling, or making some other displeased facial expression. "You can't fight nightmares," Ed argued. "They aren't real."
"Well you certainly get scared by something that isn't real," Roy teased. He pulled the covers back and laid down. Ed already beside him, against the wall. Roy always preferred sleeping closest to the door. It made it easier to get up if someone was to break in.
"Shut up," Ed said, punching Roy in the shoulder. Thankfully it wasn't his automail arm he was hitting with.
Roy chuckled. "Goodnight, son," he said softly.
"'Night, dad."
The group managed to find a hotel in the village that just barely had enough rooms for all of them. For a backwater, no real-name town, their hotel certainly was full. Falman checked them into rooms while the rest chose to sit in a bar-room. They took the circular booth in the back corner, and Havoc ordered a round. Hawkeye scolded him for the action with Alphonse present, but Al assured them he didn't mind. He had been around tougher crowds before.
Havoc received Al's beer.
When Falman joined them at the table, it was Hawkeye who spoke what they all were thinking. "They're not going to come back."
Al wanted to hit his head against the table in frustration. He would have to, if it wouldn't cause dents in the surface that he'd have to pay for with money he didn't have. He had initially left the cabin with just the feeling of relief. Glad that his brother and Mustang were both alive. Now that he's had time to think, he's aware of all the challenges ahead.
The rest of the group seemed well-aware of it too. "I know," Havoc said. "That's why I ordered the round. I can't be thinking of these things while sober."
"Did you see how thin they both were?" Fuery asked the rest. "It looked like they both hadn't eaten in months."
"They probably haven't," Scar said.
They drank.
The main floor of the inn was closing-down for the night. The innkeeper polishing off the last of the glasses that weren't being used. The few customers who had been in here, besides their group, were slowly trickling out and going to their rooms, or home for the night. Al watched a young couple leave the building, holding hands as they braced against the mildly chill night. Even though it must be close it summer, it was still cold in this region, Al noted. Without his body he could never be aware of things like temperature. He'd usually just ask Ed what it felt like if he was curious. But since Ed was gone, Al had learned how to watch other people to get the information he was missing from his absent senses.
"I mean…" Breda started after a long drink followed by banging his glass on the counter. "We can't just leave them here… right?" Everyone made a sound that added up to 'no.' "So how do we get them to come home?"
"They won't just go back," Al said, drawing all eyes to him. "They're different. I don't know much about the Colonel. But brother, he'd never acted like he did today. Not when we were kids, not when mom died. Not even after we tried to bring her back. Brother was always the stronger one between us. He always forced himself to be. Whatever happened to them. It broke something in brother." Al felt like this would be an appropriate time to shudder, as it was his armor rattled slightly. "I don't ever want to see brother like that again."
"Mustang is different too, Alphonse," Hawkeye said needlessly. "I've never seen him on the defensive like that. It was almost like he expected us to attack them. More accurately, to attack Ed."
They all sighed, some taking another drink. Some choosing not to. "We could just force them back," Scar suggested, unhelpfully.
"And get burned to a crisp trying," Havoc said.
"What we need is to get them out of the military," Falman said. At the table's silence he added. "What? Roy did say they were done with that. If we can guarantee that they don't have to serve; then they'll come home."
"Mustang couldn't have been serious about that," Fuery said with a weak chuckle
"I'm fairly certain that was the most serious I've ever seen him," Hawkeye deadpanned. She pushed her half empty glass away, looking bored even though everyone knew she was far from it.
"So how do we get them out while making sure that they don't become enemies of the country?" Al asked, with hands clasped on the table before him like he was in some business meeting.
"The only real ways of leaving are retirement, which neither of them can do," Breda said, listing off on his fingers. "Dishonorable discharge. Which is possible but won't really act as incentive for them to return to central. Death, and the faking of it, which won't help."
"What about honorable discharge?" Al asked.
Breda pursed his lips. "It's essentially like retirement. They'd both receive money for their time spent. With Roy it'd be enough to live comfortably for quite some time. But I don't know how we'd arrange that. King Bradley would have to arrange that if anything. It's reserved for those who are incapable of physically serving anymore. And with auto mail on the market, reaching that level is kind of hard."
"I think the last time someone was honorably discharged was after the Ish…the war. A man's lungs were so badly damaged that he couldn't breathe without oxygen support," Fuery informed.
Hawkeye isn't one to show emotions too openly, or too often. So, the only sign Al had that a thought had occurred to her was the way her shoulders straightened a tiny fraction. "What is it?" he asked.
"I need to make a phone call," Hawkeye said, sliding out of the booth as she was on one end already. "I may know a way to get them discharged."
She left before anyone could think of something to say. "I hope she meant honorably," Havoc grumbled, as he took the remaining half of her drink.
It was later when Al and Scar had settled in their room for the night that Hawkeye finally revealed her phone call's results. The knock was sudden. Right before Scar was about to turn the lights out for the night so he could get some sleep. Al already had a candle and book prepared for the night.
Scar, closest to the door, opened it.
"We're good to go," Hawkeye said without preamble.
"You got them discharged?" Al asked excitedly, standing up from the bed.
Hawkeye nodded, looking more alive than she had since Mustang had disappeared. "I called, Hughes who managed to pull some strings. King Bradley will put the order in tomorrow."
"Wow," Al said, thoroughly impressed. "I can't imagine what kind of strings Mr. Hughes had to pull, but I'm glad he did. With this, brother and Mr. Mustang will surely come back home!"
Hawkeye nodded. "I'm going to tell the others and turn in for the night. Have a good night, Alphonse, Scar." The latter shut the door and gave a half smirk to Alphonse. It was the closest he's ever seen to a smile from the man.
"Told you it'd work out," he said.
"Can't blame me for being worried," Al answered. Inside, he was grinning.