Requested by Ashley123654. Thank you for requesting this, Ashley, it was a joy to write!

Seeing Him

After Alfonse had dropped off Edward's books and left, the blonde was left to think in his room. Hohenheim hadn't come to bother him, but Ed knew the man had most likely badgered Alfonse to know all the bloody details of what they had said.

In truth, Ed hadn't said much to Alfonse. He had kept his words vague, only mentioning that something bad had happened and he had seen the perpetrator. Ed knew the boy that resembled his brother so much had most likely been able to put everything together, but he wouldn't dwell on that.

He had other things to think on.

Ed walked through the corridor of the university he had been attending. Hohenheim was a professor at the university, which guaranteed Edward a spot. He had met Alfonse in a class he was taking under a Professor Hobert and the two became fast friends. Ed was friends with Alfonse for different reasons, though.

As Ed walked through, his leg gave out, stumbling him through the hall. It didn't happen often anymore, but his leg sometimes still jammed on him, causing him to trip. It had been a frequent occurrence when Hohenheim had first built the leg for him, though it was quickly remedied.

Ed scrambled to get his books so as not to clog the hall for very long when someone dipped down and began also picking up his books.

"Please, let me help you," a familiar voice sounded. Ed couldn't help himself, his head snapping toward the direction of the voice.

There he was.

Shou Tucker.

Ed's heart raced and he didn't know what to do. Should he run? Should he punch him? No, it wasn't the real Tucker, but at the same time, it was Tucker. Was he the same type of person?

"Are you alright?" the Tucker wannabe asked as he handed Ed his books. The blonde could barely function properly enough to take the books into his hands, but he did. Ed was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Tucker walking away until a hand clamped on his shoulder, causing him to jump nearly five feet in the air.

"Whoa, Ed, are you alright?" Alfonse's voice asked. Ed let out a breath of relief. It was just Alfonse.

"Who was that?" Ed asked, trying to keep his voice as level as he possibly could. He was sure he was white as a sheet.

"That's Professor John Tucker," Alfonse answered. "He teaches some of the literature classes. Came here from England, and I've heard he likes to give extra credit to anyone who's willing to be his intern."

"Yeah?" Ed wondered what he made those interns do. "Have you taken a class with him?"

"Not really; I've been avoiding his class," Alfonse replied. "He just...He gives me the creeps."

"Oh." Ed took his books and turned away.

"Ed?" Alfonse called after him. "Where are you going?"

But the shorter boy ignored his friend, doing the only thing he knew how to do when it came to Tucker.

He got the hell out of dodge.

"How are you doing, Edward?" Hohenheim asked when his son finally emerged from his room. At least the blonde boy had thinking power to put his clothes back on. The nights were cold in Germany during the winter, and Hohenheim didn't want Ed to actually get sick.

"I'm fine," Ed grumbled, slumping onto the table. Hohenheim slid over a cup of hot tea to his son.

"That'll warm you up a bit," Hohenheim spoke. Prices of everything were rising in Germany, including the cost of heating. "What did Alfonse speak with you about?"

"You mean you didn't ask him?" Ed raised an eyebrow. He expected Hohenheim to have the four-one-one about it by now.

"The only thing I asked him was if you were able to confide in him," Hohenheim replied. "You've caused me a bit of worry and I wanted to make sure you had someone you could speak with."

Ed sighed. If he spent too much time thinking about whether or not he should tell Hohenheim, he never would. Even if he thought it was betrayal to Alphonse for keeping him in the dark for so long.

"When I was a kid I was sexually and physically abused," Ed blurted. Hohenheim stopped in his tracks. He knew his son hadn't had an easy life, but never expected those words to come from his mouth. "It was by a State Alchemist I studied under until I was able to pass my exam."

"How old were you?" Hohenheim asked. He felt like he was asking the wrong question, and that if he asked the wrong questions, Edward would shut him out all over again.

"I was eleven when it started and twelve when it stopped," Ed answered. "It was only for about a month, though."

"You seemed to become more upset about this in the past few days," Hohenheim commented. "Was there a specific event that triggered this depression?"

"I saw him," Ed replied. Hohenheim's eyes widened.

"Where?" the man asked.

"At the university," the teen answered. "Apparently he's a professor there. My leg jammed and I dropped my books, and he was there to help me pick them up. His name here is John Tucker."

Hohenheim knew that man. John Tucker was a professor at the university he worked alongside. He had a bad feeling about Tucker since the moment he joined the staff. He had hastily joined after moving from England, leaving everything behind. He gave extra credit for students who stayed after classes and became assistants to him. Hohenheim had always wondered what they would do during that time and now he had a sneaking suspicion.

"Edward, I want you to stay away from his class," Hohenheim ordered. "You hear me? Stay away from that man."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Ed replied. "Of course I'm gonna stay away from him. I'm not dumb enough to let myself get hurt again."

"Dumb...?" Hohenheim quickly grabbed his son's shoulders. "Listen to me, Edward. You are not dumb for what happened to you. You did not cause that. You were a child and he was an adult."

"Thanks for the therapy session, pop," Ed spoke. He shrugged Hohenheim's hands away from him before heading to his room.

Hohenheim sighed. If he had never left his wife and children, Edward never would have been hurt. He wouldn't have necessarily lived a happy life after Trisha died, but they would have been better off. Edward would have an arm and a leg because he never would have lost them, Alphonse never would have lost his body. They would have grown up in Resembool and Hohenheim was sure one of them would have married the Rockbell girl.

Hohenheim sighed as he took the cup of tea he had given Edward and returned it to the kitchen. Dare he go and make sure Edward was okay? What if he wasn't? Hohenheim wasn't sure of what to do and he wished more than ever for Trisha's guidance.

You would make sure he's okay, Hohenheim thought to himself.

If he left himself too much time to think, he wouldn't do it.

Hohenheim stepped toward Edward's room and gently knocked.

"Go away," he could hear the teen mutter.

"I'm coming in," Hohenheim announced. He hoped the warning was enough for his son to make sure he was decent.

"What the hell, Hohenheim?" Ed exclaimed when the blonde man entered his room.

Hohenheim got a clear look at Edward.

He had removed his own leg, wrapping his blanket around himself and he was curled up in his bed. He had also removed the tie in his hair, allowing golden locks to flow over his shoulders.

But what Hohenheim noticed the most was the boy's bloodshot eyes and tear tracks.

"This again?" Hohenheim asked. He wasn't criticizing. Or at least he didn't intend to sound like he was.

"Go away, Hohenheim," Ed replied.

"Not this time," Hohenheim spoke. He sat down beside his son, wrapping an arm around him. Ed did push away at first, but after a few moments, the teen relaxed in his hold. "I'm sorry that I left you and your brother when you were young. If I hadn't left, you wouldn't have been hurt."

"Shut up," Ed muttered. "It's not your fault that I lived with a pervert."

"You don't need to worry about John Tucker," Hohenheim spoke. "He's not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you again."

"I know; I'm not an idiot," Ed replied.

"It's going to be okay."

"Is this your pathetic attempt at comforting someone? Because I don't need it."

"You're a good kid."

"I'm not a kid, you bastard." But he relaxed just a bit in Hohenheim's hold.

"You're a good kid."

"What did I just say to you?" And he allowed himself to be pulled a bit closer.

"You're a good kid."

"Are you just going to repeat the same thing over and over again?" He tried desperately to hold back tears in his watery eyes with biting comments.

"You're a good kid?"

"I'll take that as a yes." His head began to rest against Hohenheim's shoulder.

"You're a good kid."

And eventually, the responses stopped coming.

So, there's a poll on my profile that you guys can check out and vote on what I should be working on. Right now, this story isn't in the options, but if you want it to be, just review that you want it to be a poll option here; if I get three reviews asking it to be added to the poll, it will be added!

For now, options include a few rewrites I've been working on and all the stories that are listed under Future Works on my profile. Check it out and let me know! You can vote up to 10 times in case something gets added and you want to change your vote.