"Boss," Havoc said patiently, his face twisted in a hilarious mask of confusion and regret. "I'm pretty sure the Brigadier General isn't going to appreciate you adding extra stuff to his erm . . . window."
"It won't even be noticeable," Ed insisted, throwing an arm over the couch in a bored fashion. God was he bored. Aside from finding the automail screw in Mustang's room—which he was most definitely going to ask about later once the man got out of the office for the day—there hadn't been anything interesting in the house. Hell, it was like he barely even lived here. It was probably just a place to sleep. And while Ed had no room to judge (considering he and Al had burnt their own house down before leaving it) he still thought a place someone lived in couldn't be this clean. It was impossible. "All you have to do is add aluminium oxide to the glass before you put it back together. Then the next time some lunatic assassin decides they want to try to escape by smashing through Mustang's weak-ass windows, all they'll do is bounce back. It's pretty much bullet proof. He'd be totally safe."
"You should still ask him first," Jean tried to stress, his face now incredulous. "I mean, where do you even obtain this alumastuff anyway?"
"Aluminium oxide. It's almost as strong as diamond. He wouldn't even notice the difference. It may even make the glass shinier. And all you really need is a hunk of uncut ruby. You can find that everywhere in gift shops." He dug a chunk out of his pocket, because yes, he did happen to carry around extra alchemical materials everywhere on his body. So what? He was a nerd, and proud of it.
He ignored Havoc's protests, because he definitely knew what he was doing, thank you very much, and Roy would be grateful. He'd be grateful because otherwise Ed was going to make him sleep down here to face off against whatever got thrown at them next instead of Ed getting the shit strangled out of him. He set down the ruby chunk next to the shattered glass and moved his hand to place it on the ground, an array already in his head . . .
And then he glanced out the window and saw a face that instantly made him want to vomit. A man that should not have existed but thanks to the traitor who had gotten inside the Gate, was standing right across from Roy Mustang's house, analyzing it with an impassive face. And Ed's single hand twisted into a fist. He wanted to punch the guy's nuts in so hard he'd be able to feel them all the way in his throat. He wanted . . .
No. No, he knew exactly why he was here. To get a rise out of him. After the assassination attempt last night, it had become very clear that whoever was behind the Gate's tampering hated Ed with enough of a passion to send people out after him. This was a way to get under his skin. And he was going to treat this right because for some reason . . . for some reason he felt like doing something Roy Mustang would approve of. He'd always done the opposite, always done what he could to piss in the man's boots, but suddenly that wasn't his desire. Suddenly he decided that he wanted to show him just how much he could be trusted if it really came down to it. Because Alphonse knew it. Winry knew it.
And well, Roy probably knew it too. But still. Still, dammit, he wanted to actually show him.
"Be right back," he spat out at Havoc, and took off for the front door instead of jumping through the window like he wanted to do.
"Wait—Boss! Roy said you needed to stay here all da—"
"Yeah, well, plans change when you aren't having any fun," he hissed out, and threw himself out the front door. The man was already gone by the time he got out there, had probably seen him take off for the door. Damn it, really. Fuck. And he didn't need Havoc following him because then he'd have to reign himself in and that would be no fun, really. He needed . . . he needed to be able to take this guy out with his own two fists. Okay, one fist. He hadn't gotten the chance to finish the job last time.
He took a deep breath, swallowed thickly and ignored the uncomfortable throat scratching. Then he closed his eyes and focused on the noises the smells around him. Sight was great and all, but one good thing that had come from living in a place devoid of all sight other than white was that his other senses were pretty damn sharp now. Roy lived on a quiet street. There were passerby and cars, but there wasn't a lot of yelling, screaming, running. So the second he heard feet pounding on the pavement, Ed took off to the right, just narrowly dodging Havoc's grasping hand. His automail port was killing him, frankly, but he ignored it and pushed himself faster. Pushed himself faster than Havoc could follow and faster than he needed to be to catch up to this bastard.
His eyes were open now, searching the street ahead of him and dodging people whose reactions were mixed between "Watch where you're going!" and "Isn't that the Fullmetal Alchemist? I thought he was dead!" And yeah, it was kind of nice that he was still remembered after like three years. But now wasn't the time to bask in the fame and glory, as Al called it. He passed by without a word or a wave (unless a couple of them thought his empty sleeve flapping in the air was a weak interpretation of one).
There. There was infuriatingly stupid plaid shirt, crossing a corner. Ed made the push, ignored the harsh sting in his automail port, and picked up speed.
Then he reached out with his arm, curled his fingers against the back of that damn shirt, and yanked.
And alright, so his fine motor skills still left something to be desired, because the transition wasn't as smooth as he really wanted it to be. But when it got down to it, he got the man to fly around, and he let go of the shirt to swing a slightly off-center punch at his face. It hit his glasses and not his nose, which fucking figured because he wanted to hear the satisfying crunch that came with broken cartilage, but the sound of broken glass was close enough too.
And then he shoved his face up against Shou Tucker's to breathe hotly, "You got off easy last time, fucker, but this time I'll make sure you suffer."
". . . Edward Elric."
He wasn't at all surprised when Tucker started to laugh, sounding like all the air had gotten stuck in the top of his nose. Ed twisted his fingers tighter and resisted the urge to punch him again. He might have wanted to kill the man with his own bare . . . hand, but that was not the kind of person he was. He was not a murderer. He had worked hard all his time in the military making sure no one ever died under his hand. Not even Pride. Not even Father. He wasn't going to break that on a man revived from the dead. Not someone this pitiful.
"Glad to see you remember me," Ed answered instead, grabbing a fistful of Tucker's ugly-ass shirt to keep from pounding his fist into the nose he'd missed the first time. "I hope you've had time to think about what you did to your daughter. Remember? About how you ruined a small child's entire life due to your own greediness? Sick bastard."
Because Edward had never forgotten, not once, It was impossible for either him or Al to ever forget. For the moment when they realized that the sweet child and dog they had gotten to know had suddenly been the victims of greed and human transmutation. He'd thought attempting to transmute their own mother had been bad. But she had already been dead, and they'd been two children desperate to be loved by her again. But this . . . Nina had been alive, and beautiful, and she had loved her father wholeheartedly. So passionately that even after Tucker had performed the deed, she could see no evil in him. She'd had no idea that what he'd done to her had been the vilest thing a parent could do to their child.
"Edward," Tucker purred, not even so much as flinching at their close proximity. "Are you still worried about that? Last I heard, my darling Nina was alive and whole once more. All thanks to her. You should be grateful. She thought of you. Thinks of you even now."
Her. The person behind the Gate's shenanigans was a woman. A girl or a woman, he wasn't sure. But whoever it was, they were familiar enough with alchemy to be able to do this. And familiar enough with him to know exactly who he hated. Ed swallowed back bile, suddenly feeling ill again. He wasn't sure about this. He wasn't sure about it before, when he was trapped and the Gate shoved him out. And he definitely wasn't sure about it now. What if . . . what if this person won? What if they killed him? He gritted his teeth and jerked his gaze up to meet Tucker's. He took mild satisfaction in the fact that his glasses were greatly askew and snapped down the middle.
"Who is 'her'?" he demanded.
"That would be the question, wouldn't it?" Dull eyes darted down to stare at the fist Ed had clutched in his shirt. "Perhaps if you would care to let go, I might be willing to talk like a normal human being."
"You aren't a human being. You're too disgusting to be considered a human being."
But Ed still let go, if only so he would be able to find out more about this person. He hand, however, he kept open and waiting at his side. He could feel the electric currents of alchemy running beneath his skin, aching to be used even if he didn't have an array in mind. Ah, but he couldn't let anyone know how much his powers had grown. If the military found out . . . but still . . .
"Tell me," he demanded.
"She knows you very well," he breathed, stepping back to calmly readjust his shirt. "Better than you know who, for sure."
"But who the fuck is she?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, Edward." Shou Tucker smirked, or maybe smiled, but Ed could never see anything beyond evil in that face the moment he saw Nina and Alexander merged into one.
And Ed . . . snarled, twitched his fingers with the effort to keep them still. Oh, how he wished he had his other arm right now. He'd get so much more satisfaction out of punching the guy with heavy steel. As much as he hated to say it . . . he wanted his fucking automail at that moment.
"Why the hell are you here, then?"
"Me?" Tucker raised an eyebrow, almost seemed stressed out by the question. He rubbed his near-bald head with a hand as he looked for an answer. "Not sure, really. Was hoping to see Nina—"
"You are never going to see her again. Ever." He would kill the man if he even thought about going to visit her, about corrupting her or hurting her again. No, this time, he was going to protect Nina. Even if when this was all said and done, Nina went back to her grave, then at least Ed would be satisfied to know she hadn't been used in this life. At least not any more than the Gate had already used her.
"Well, she's not your daughter, now, is she, Edward?" The man cleared his throat and shook his head. "Regardless, that is not what I decided on doing. You seem to have figured that out already; you always were smart. You know I wasn't standing in front of your officer's house by coincidence. But the question you probably have for me is why, isn't it? Why is Shou Tucker standing outside Roy Mustang's house? My question is almost the same. Why is Edward Elric in Roy Mustang's house?"
"None of your damn business."
Okay, he was going to punch him. Again. He was going to make his face bloom red because using alchemy meant he was going to go overboard. And he couldn't. For Roy he couldn't. He dug his fingers into his palm so hard his nails bit into his skin. And then he stepped forward to swing a punch at Tucker in the middle of the street, not caring whether anyone saw him. Because they should see. They should see what kind of a bastard Tucker was, they should hear what he'd done to his daughter.
But Shou Tucker dodged neatly, his eyes wide with surprise . . . and not at Ed's movement. It was almost like . . . he'd been surprised that he'd moved away. Because Ed knew that he hadn't been expecting the punch.
Fuck.
That meant . . .
"The Gate," Ed spat out. No, not the Gate. Even the Gate had been afraid of this. That was why it needed him. No one else was stupid enough to take this on. Whoever was behind it—whatever woman was behind it—was doing this. And they knew where Ed was, they knew he had found Tucker. That was probably the whole reason behind it.
Probably the whole reason behind Tucker finding himself conveniently in front of Mustang's townhouse.
"Unfortunately," the man stated, "I would have liked to talk more before we got to this point. I do so enjoy my conversations with a genius such as yourself, Edward. But it seems the one who brought me back to life would like to have their way with me now. I do so apologize for having to kill you."
But the look in his eyes said he had no problem carrying the deed out, and Ed was now sure that whoever had broken into Roy's house the night before had not being Shou Tucker. The person who had attempted to kill him last night had apologized for what they were doing like they couldn't help themselves. Not like. They couldn't. They never had a choice. That was probably what was going to get Ed in the end. He wouldn't raise a hand against someone he cared about, no matter what they did to him. Especially not if it was involuntary. Tucker, though . . .
Oh, he'd enjoy taking Tucker out.
"Bring it on, fucker," he breathed, leaning more heavily on his flesh leg for a better stance.
"You don't quite get it, do you?" Tucker asked in reply, his arms hanging down at his sides. His eyes were a little panicked like he wasn't quite prepared for what might happen here. "The one controlling the Gate. She doesn't care how she gets to you. She doesn't care how she takes you out. In other words, she won't mind using my body to get to yours. Dead or alive. You'd have to burn this body to nothing but ash in order to stop me. Her. And you're weak. You won't kill me. You wouldn't waste years of perseverance on me. Would you?"
It was exactly what Edward had just thought and it threw him off just the tiniest bit. It threw him off because he knew, deep down in his heart, the he would never forgive himself if he turned to murder. If he turned to trying to destroy any human being, regardless of what they had done or what they were capable of. He left that to Roy. He left that to the Brigadier General because he was older, and he had always been able to shoulder that sort of burden. Ed had enough burdens to shoulder. He didn't need the death of others on top of everything else.
"You know what rhymes with Tucker?" he answered instead, mentally praying that Roy had plans to show up at some point. He had no doubt he already knew Ed had taken off.
"I have a feeling I know where this joke is going," the man sighed.
"Yeah. Damn right. It rhymes with fucker. So let's get going."
But again as Ed swung forward, this time with the force of pushing off with his automail leg, Tucker dodged, his movements oddly stiff like he was being held with puppet strings. Only this time, he didn't stop. This time, he swung back around, and both of his hands jerked up to go straight for Ed's neck.
"Not this time," Ed spat, wondering what the Gate's obsession with his neck was. Or maybe it was just that it was the easiest spot to kill someone by. Easy to snap the neck, to choke off the air. Ed defensively jerked his hand up to his neck to ward off the hands, then kept it there just in case Tucker tried for it again.
"I can't imagine you're very put off by this," he drawled, stepping back to regroup and decide a new plan of attack. Not that he had very long before the man shot forward at him again.
"It brings me great pleasure, to be perfectly honest. You wound up ruining my career and my livelihood. Literally."
"You deserved it. After what you did to Nina. And your own fucking wife."
There was one thing he'd forgotten about. One very, very important thing, and he almost didn't remember until it was too late. Tucker had transmuted Nina and the family dog to keep his State Alchemist certification. Tucker was an alchemist.
And all alchemists may have specialized in something, but they all had to start somewhere.
So when Tucker whipped out a piece of chalk and began to sketch on the ground, the only thing Ed managed to say was, "Shitdamn."
Two options: Get in the line of fire and pray he didn't get hurt, or take the easy route out and just use alchemy to nullify the effects of Tucker's.
And well, aside from the fact that Mustang would've been pissed at him, he never did like to take the easy way out. What was the fun in that?
So he skidded forward, his left boot smearing the small chalk design while he snatched the stick from the man's hands. He was in and out of his range before he could really do anything; he squeezed the stick and subtly imagined up an array that would disassemble the parts of the chalk because fuck if he was going to let him get it back. The light from the reaction was too small to notice and he grinned, opening his hand to let the chalk dust fall to the ground. "So much for that out, old man," he breathed proudly. Alchemy wasn't going to be an option for the bastard, no matter what.
Or at least, that was what he thought, but the former State Alchemist seemed way too confident about the situation.
"Not much you can do with alchemy, is there?" Ed boasted confidently, trying to shake the other man's own confidence. "Especially now that I'm not asleep. That's probably why this woman—the Gate—didn't try to attack me until I was asleep at first. Am I right?" He offered Tucker a shit-eating grin. "Meanwhile, I don't need any fucking alchemy to beat your ass to a pulp."
"You're not always as bright as everyone thinks you are, aren't you?" Tucker rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I was reborn from the Gate. And you should know better than most, shouldn't you, Ed? That anyone that comes from the Gate comes back with something. What was that old phrase? Equivalent Exchange? Except it isn't true, because we always get more out of the Gate than we think we do. We alchemists do, anyway."
It was too late by the time Ed noticed what the problem was. One step backwards was not far enough to get him away from the static of Tucker's alchemic reaction. He'd been in the Gate before he came out. He'd seen Truth. Anyone that came back to life that way had to have seen it. Which meant he could perform alchemy without a circle. Which meant Ed was going to have to use his. Shit.
Metal and stone bars rose from the ground they were standing on, the sound loud and cracking but not enough to cover up the noises of people gasping with fright. Of course they'd have an audience. Of fucking course. Ed stepped back, only to find the edge of the sidewalk and go stumbling onto his back.
"I believe this is a trick you've pulled on several of your targets as well," Tucker announced, stepping forward to stare through the bars of the constructed cage. "I can see why you use it. I've got you trapped. And Edward Elric is useless like this. Without his second arm. You can't perform alchemy like this, can you? So I have you right where I need you. And now I can take care of you, and then I'm going to go see my daughter. This was far easier than I thought it might have been."
"Listen," Ed tried, placing his hand carefully on the ground beneath him. There were too many onlookers, but he really didn't have a choice at this point. "Don't make me do this. Mustang's gonna be fucking pissed at me and the military's gonna be way too interested. Just let me out so I can beat your face in, delivery you to my C.O., and we can call it a day. Trust me. It'll save us both a lot of trouble."
"Your dedication to your officer is astounding," Tucker laughed, "but that isn't going to stop this. Even if I wanted to, you know I can't. And you lying about your abilities makes it worse. Last I saw, you trashed the chalk. So there's nothing you can do here."
"Technically," Ed replied with a frown, "I have plenty of rocks here I can scrape something together with, but that's not the point. Really. Can we just—"
"The Gate says no," Tucker said, shrugging even as his hands jerked forward between the bars to grab at Ed's ankles. "Nothing I can do about it. Can't say I'm sad to see you die again."
"Dammit. Okay. Listen. You know what happens when we come in contact with the Gate. All that knowledge, right?" He was going to have to do this. Military be damned. Roy be damned. It was the only way he was getting out of this. He'd had to be stupid enough to go after Tucker on his own. No. No, because if he'd left the guy to his own devices, then Tucker definitely, definitely would have gone after Nina in his own time. And then what would he ever do if something happened to Gracia and Elycia in the process? He'd never forgive himself. Alchemy or Hughes' family. That was such an easy decision.
And at least, for a second, it gave Tucker pause. "What does it matter?" he asked, eyes raised behind his broken glasses. "It's not like you can use that knowledge."
"Except I can," Ed answered, sitting up fluidly and jerking forward until his face was inches from the cage bars. He grinned again. "Because you're forgetting something super important. You're forgetting I was trapped inside the Gate for three years. So I brought back way more than you did."
He jerked his hand up, electric blue sparking out from beneath his fingertips. Shou Tucker's eyes widened and Ed threw his hand forward, an array fixed in his mind—
"Fullmetal!"
The sound of a sharp snap filled the air . . . and then the sound of excruciating screams as the former State Alchemist burst into flames, a brilliant orange-white and so hot Ed had to scramble backwards in his little cage to escape from burns just from the proximity. He jerked his head around to the site of Mustang running up, Havoc and Hawkeye hot on his heels.
"You idiot!" Roy hissed, clapping his hands together abruptly. The stone bars retreated back into the ground where they'd come from, but Ed didn't stand yet. He was too busy gaping at Roy's amazingly angry . . . and amazingly handsome face. "You almost gave it away, and I told you not to do that! Don't make me regret my decision to let you go back to field work."
"What else did you expect me to do?" Ed demanded once he'd gotten his second wind, gesturing wildly towards the burning lump on the ground. Tucker's screams had quietened into nothing, and it was sickening, but he remembered the man's words: That he wouldn't go back to being dead unless he truly returned to ash. Roy was taking care of it for him. "Let him kill me? If you hadn't taken so long to follow me he might have."
"Who was that, anyway?" Havoc demanded, jogging up beside them out of breath.
"That," Ed said lowly, "was Shou Tucker. Nina's father."
"He's dead tho—oh." Jean's eyes widened exponentially as he realized what Ed was getting at. "The Gate again. Aw man, I don't understand this shit. How do these people just show up? Like, shouldn't their bodies just be all smelly and stuff?"
"Does that matter? He came back with all his fucking memories, including how he got caught. He remembered what the hell he did to Nina. And he still didn't fucking care."
"We need to get this taken care of right now," Riza announced, her eyes locked on the nauseous-looking passerby. "The brass is no doubt going to hear about this. I don't know how we're going to pretend this didn't happen, sir."
"We won't hide it," Roy answered, staring in disgust at the remains on the ground. He snapped again. "They can I.D. the body. He still has his teeth." The flames died down but honestly, Ed would have rather saw the flames than what was left once they disappeared. Tucker's death was gratifying, but not the image he left behind. "The military never checked Tucker's body after they found his head splattered across the room. For all they know, that man could have been an imposter. I believe this will be easy enough to cover up."
"Sir, with all due respect, we really should learn to take care of our own messes without having to make up stories."
"This really isn't the time to complain," Ed pointed out, "considering we have a damn crowd. And there's a dead body laying smack in the middle of the street. You know. Should probably call clean-up."
Riza blinked, but nodded and quickly turned to Havoc with instructions to get to a phone and call for the cleaning team. Meanwhile, she would stay nearby until they arrived.
"As for you," Roy announced shortly, grabbing the back of Ed's jacket. He complained loudly, of course. Not to make a scene, but because seriously? If that wasn't one more way to make him feel even shorter than he already was then he didn't know what did. "I told you to stay put. You already ignored that order. So we're going straight back to the house and I'm going to watch you. You aren't going anywhere until I know there aren't going to be any leftover issues from the incident last night."
Ed bristled at the thought. "I don't need babysat," he spat at Roy. "Unless you wanted him to get to Nina?"
Roy froze, let go of his shirt, and Ed crossed his one arm smugly over his chest. Now he'd obviously see his side of the story. Wasn't it obvious, anyway, how he needed to think about the important things and not about how long he would have to babysit Ed? He could take care of himself. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd ever been injured.
"I don't care about that," Roy said, and Edward froze himself to blink up at the other man.
"What?!" he demanded once he found his voice. "He is the one who wound up killing her and you—"
Roy grabbed his arm that time and yanked, pulling him down the street and through the throng of curious people. Ed had run further than he'd thought; it took several minutes for them to get back to the townhouse once they were there.
"What the hell," Mustang," he tried, "we were in the middle of things over there! Don't tell me you're just going to leave that fucking body for the Lieutenant to watch while you go off gallivanting again, and you don't need to chastise me. I'm not a fucking kid anymore."
But he was very much ignored and by the time they made it back to the townhouse, Ed really wanted to punch Mustang's nose in too.
At least, until the door slammed shut behind them and Roy dipped his head down. Before Edward even realized what was going on Roy's lips were on his and his golden eyes had widened into saucers. Roy was . . . Roy was kissing him, uninhibited. Desperately, like there was an edge of fear to it.
And Ed . . . stilled for just a moment before he jerked his arm up, wrapping it around Mustang's neck to pull him down further. He kissed back fervently, not realizing how much he'd wanted it until this moment. How much he'd needed to know that the other man cared for him in this way. And God, was it glorious. Mustang's lips were soft, not course like he would have imagined. Ed kissed back like it was the last one he would ever get . . . because it might be. After this, anyway. After the man got so pissed at him for the Tucker incident.
They drew apart slowly, breaths hitched and nervous, and Roy brushed his fingers against Ed's face.
"Don't ever do that again," he whispered. "I've lost you once. I don't ever want to lose you again, you bloody idiot."
His explanation for the kiss was so sappy, so romantic, that Ed sputtered while he tried to come up with something in reply. He looked down at the floor in embarrassment. Then back up at Roy.
"Does this mean I can piss you off more often?"
The pop to the back of his head wasn't nearly as gratifying as the kiss had been.
