Reyna had purposely scheduled her return to Central City to coincide with the return of Edward and Alphonse. After boarding the train at the station, she searched each passenger car until she finally found them in the second to last one. Al noticed her first when she peeked over the top of the seat in front of him. Pressing her finger to her lips to wordlessly signal him to keep quiet, she beamed at him happily. Although he had no face for her to see, she could feel that he was as happy to see her as she was to see him. After Alphonse pointed in a downward motion, she leaned over the top of seat to see Edward asleep. Her smile grew wider. Flipping over the high top of the train seat, she announced her presence by plunking down heavily onto the padded seat beside the blissfully snoozing Edward.

"What the hell? Al! Did the train derail?!" Edward asked in a drowsy panic.

"No. It's just Reyna," Alphonse laughed.

"Reyna," the short tempered, perpetually irritated blonde muttered, scrubbing his gloved palms over his face. He turned his livid molten gold eyes on the smiling woman sitting next to him. "Do you make it a point to be a disaster searching for a place to happen?"

"I don't do it purposely. It just...happens," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Reyna could not help it really. One of the souls inside of her that had melded to her personality belonged to a precocious five year old boy who had been a hyperactive jokester. She had learned about him after visiting his mother and grandmother in their tiny farming village. One day, as sometimes happens with a prank, things had gone terribly wrong. The child's joke went awry when he spooked a farmer's horse that kicked him in the head, making him lose consciousness but not not killing him. The child had tenaciously held onto life in a comatose state, awakening momentarily before dying according to the doctor who had been with him. The child had died in the doctor's arms. The doctor's last name was Marcoh. Reyna's heart had grown heavy with disappointment, sinking with the weight of despair. She knew then the child had been murdered to harvest his soul. Dr. Marcoh had once said that he could never atone for the many sins he had committed. The more she learned about his past, the more she believed him. The Philosopher's Stones were created from the pain and suffering of others, leaving a trail of devastation that seemed to have no end.

Edward leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. The lead they had followed had ended with yet another maddening letdown. The man had been just another charlatan in a long line of many claiming to have successfully harnessed the power of Alchemy to bring the dead back to life. He had been nothing more than a desperate thief who had sought to take people's money, playing on their grief, using their hopes of being reunited with their departed loved ones to easily deceive them. Ed knew their desperation, their willingness to believe the lies to retrieve the people they loved from the jaws of death. Disappointment, lies, and failures seemed to be as much a part of his and Al's life as their invisible companions of sorrow and regret. He released a noisy sigh of dejection.

"Edward, I'm sorry," Reyna apologized for no apparent reason, touching his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The discouragement bordering on despondency that he felt was as obvious as the crimson coat on his back.

"I know," he snapped curtly, opening his eyes to glare at her. "You're sorry. You feel sorry for Al and I in that lost puppy sort of way," Ed accused, the hurt apparent in his golden eyes. "That's why you wanted us to stay with you after all, isn't it? To commit a charitable act and feel better about yourself?"

"How dare you, Ed," she growled in a low, threatening voice. With her penetrating gaze stubbornly holding his, she placed her hand on his shoulder where the automail connected to his body. Her fingers trailed down the metal, pausing to touch each bolt and screw that slid under the tips. She ran them all the way down to his hand that she grasped briefly before raising it to press it to her cheek. The metal was warm having ductile properties that channeled his body heat. The automail was a completely marvelous thing.

"Don't do that," he muttered testily, trying to pull away from her. He instantly ceased struggling to keep from hurting her as she pressed the metal into her soft skin. Of course he could not feel her skin with the automail hand, but her cheek was such a rich, creamy color it had to be soft. Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at him. He did not try to pull away. He had hurt her feelings. He refused to hurt her face. His eyes lowered to stare at his other hand that curled into a fist in his lap. The pain in her eyes had been familiar - too familiar. The soul stabbing sadness was so similar to the burden of pain he had carried for years, he could not bear to see it in another person's eyes. It had killed him for her to touch the automail arm. The metal limb represented his failure to bring back his mother and how he had all but destroyed his little brother. She accepted it anyway as a part of him. Her total acceptance of him was almost embarrassing. His chin dropped toward his chest, his bangs hiding his face.

"Ed, look at me," she urged him, tucking her finger under his chin to raise his head so she could see his face and his eyes. "I have never once pitied you Edward Elric. What I feel for you is admiration for an unbreakable spirit despite all that you've been through and your undaunted determination to get your brother's body back. I know more about what you're going through than you can even imagine."

Ed studied the big fat tear that formed in the corner of her left eye before it grew large enough to break free and slide down her cheek. He believed her. Without thinking, he reached up to wipe away the tear with his other hand. Humiliated by unthinkingly making the affectionate gesture, he said, "I didn't want it to get on my automail. The salt would rust it."

"You're a terrible liar, Ed," she chuckled through her tears. "There's something important that you need to know about me."

The way Reyna hesitated, suddenly refusing to make eye contact with him, made him antsy. "Wh-what is it?"

Thankfully there was still quite a bit of time left on their journey. They were going to need it. Reyna would need time to tell them her story. Ed and Al would need time to get over the shock.

~...~

As soon as Roy saw them deboard the train he knew what they had talked about on their way back to Central City. Reyna wore the obvious signs of crying: eyes rimmed with red and a swollen face. Edward was quiet, head down, moving slowly. He looked like the human version of a ship who had lost all of the wind out of its sails. Every step seemed to be a trial for him. Al...who could tell what he was thinking but his emotional state most likely closely mirrored his brother's. "Oh, boy," Roy muttered, running his hand through his hair.

"Hi," Reyna said, her voice breathy and strained.

"Everything okay?" he inquired, pulling her toward him for a kiss as the boys walked past to retrieve their luggage from the baggage car.

"As okay as it can be," she sighed, leaning her forehead against Roy's chest. "Roy, you should have seen that boy's face when I told him the truth about what I am. I could have stabbed him through the heart with a butcher knife and hurt him less than telling him the truth."

"Oh, my Queen," he murmured, putting his arms around her to hold her. She was shaking. His arms tightened around her in an effort to stop her from trembling. "Edward's strong. He'll be okay."

"Roy, how much is that child expected to take before it's allowable for him to not be okay?" she questioned him, her voice quivering like her body.

"Did you tell them everything?" His arms constricted around her when she leaned into him as if her knees had forsaken her. He knew she had told them everything about her and about the homunculi. "Good. I'll tell them about the plans we've made so far."

Reyna pulled back from Roy, her eyes swimming with tears. She didn't think she had any tears left to cry. The human body had the annoying ability to produce tears by the gallons. "No more tonight. Let's go home, have a good meal, and allow those boys to rest."

"But I need to - " He was cut off by her forefinger being pressing to his lips. Her deep violet blue irises bore into his eyes, pleading with him without her mouth issuing a word. Reaching up, he took her hand to pull it away so he could lean down to kiss her forehead. "All right. It can wait."

~...~

The next morning, Reyna was in the kitchen making breakfast when a sleepy Edward strolled in. She cast him a sideways glance to see him yawning like a lazy lion while scratching his belly. His hair mussed from sleep stuck out in all directions, the braid hung loose and crooked. He was dressed in white boxer shorts and a black tank top. She was not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he felt comfortable enough with her to walk around like that. Either way, it did not bother her. He was only fifteen after all, nothing more than a child to her. She ignored him and continued to ladle pancake batter into the cast iron skillet. The kitchen smelled strongly of vanilla and butter.

"Something smells really good. What ya makin'?" he asked, coming closer to stand beside her. He was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes which made him appear to be even more childlike.

"Pancakes," she answered briefly, catching a glimpse of him. She could see that he was staring at the tattoos on her forearms. For safety reasons, she had not worn a long sleeve shirt since she would be cooking over an open flame on the gas stove.

"Mmmmm...sounds great. Hope you're making a lot," he mumbled, leaning against the counter. "I'm starving."

"Want to help?" she inquired, picking up the pancake turner. She was glad she had the pancakes to distract her so she did show her surprise at not being asked twenty questions about the tattoos. Not that she would have minded answering them.

"Hmmm? What?" he murmured, staring at the flat silver device in her hand.

"Here. You can turn these when they're ready. I need to make coffee. You look like you could use some and I know I can use some," she said, handing him the cooking utensil.

"How do I know when they're ready to be turned?" he asked apprehensively, staring down at the white circles of batter in the pan.

"Bubbles will form on the top," she answered as she pulled out the percolator style coffee pot.

"How do I turn them?"

"Very carefully."

"No, really, how do I do it?" he insisted, poking at the edge of the pancake with the turner as if it would leap out of the pan and eat him.

"Like this," she said, standing behind him. She could easily look over his shoulder to see what she was doing since there was not much of a height difference between them. Putting her hand over his, she directed his hand, showing him how to slide the turner under the pancake before flipping it over with a quick twist of the wrist.

"That's easy. I can do that," he assured her with confidence.

"Great! Go for it," she encouraged him, lighting another burner for the coffee pot. Happily humming to herself, she filled the metal carafe with water at the sink. She opened the can of coffee grounds, taking a deep inhale of the heavenly scent. Sliding the can under her cooking companion's nose, she smiled when he took an appreciative sniff of the coffee. When the coffee was set on the stove to perk, she moved to retrieve dishes from the cabinet. Her mind drifted to thoughts of her son, Selim. What was he doing right now? Would he be in the kitchen helping his mother prepare breakfast? Whipping eggs or pouring orange juice, or maybe he was setting the table like her. Or was he still in bed while servants made a breakfast fit for a king that would be brought up to his room on a silver tray? She had no idea what kind of person her son could be. She wanted to know him. From the brief interaction in front of the Fuhrer's mansion that day, she could tell that he was polite and well mannered with a healthy curiosity. Possibly a bit too friendly to strangers but the woman he believed to be his mother had been there by his side so he had no reason to fear any danger. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. She must be content with the present moment. One day her time with Selim come.

"What are you thinking, my Queen?" Roy inquired, startling her out of her sad thoughts.

"Nothing that bears voicing," she responded calmly, giving him a smile.

"Hmmmm," he murmured, kissing her on the forehead. "What's up with the pint sized chef?"

"Roy," Reyna hissed, noticing that Ed's back stiffened at being called pint sized.

"Where's Al?" he asked, undaunted by either person's reaction.

"He took a walk," Ed answered curtly, pouring the last of the batter into the pan.

"It doesn't bother you to allow your little brother to wander around all alone?" Reyna had officially slipped into full mother mode.

"He's a seven foot tall suit of armor. Who's going to attack him?" Edward added quickly, "Besides you of course."

About that time, the front door opened. There was a soft mewling sound. Cats? Reyna walked into the living room to see Al carrying a box of kittens.

"I found them abandoned in an alley by some trash cans. I waited for their mother to return for hours, but she never came," he explained, sitting the box on the floor.

"Dammit, Al," Roy muttered irritably.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I couldn't leave them all alone."

"Awww," Reyna cooed picking up a fluffy white ball of fuzz. She cuddled the tiny kitten to her chest, rubbing her chin across his soft head. There were three siblings in the box: another white kitten, a gray one with black stripes, and a smoky gray one. "Al, you're going to have to find homes for them. We can't take care of them."

"I know," he replied, sadness evident in his voice.

"Breakfast is ready. Let's eat!" Edward yelled from the kitchen.

Reyna did not really feel like eating. Since Edward had helped cook breakfast, she ate a tall stack of the pancakes anyway. Once the food was finished, she busied herself washing dishes while the males in the house went to Roy's study to talk. The impatient man could no longer refrain from bringing the boys into the inner circle, informing them of their plans. After the kitchen was cleaned up, she decided to take a walk to get out of the house. Scribbling a note on a piece of paper, she left the message on the kitchen table under the salt and pepper shaker. She did not want them to worry when they came out of seclusion to find that she was gone. Without a particular destination in mind, she wandered along the extensive interconnecting sidewalks of the city unwittingly finding herself in front of the Fuhrer's mansion. She could hear the laughter of a child moments before Selim came into view chasing a ball. Bowing her head to hide her face, she turned on her heel to make a hasty retreat before he saw her.

"Reyna!" he called after her.

"Oh, no," she gasped, attempting to hurry away.

"Reyna, please don't go!"

The pleading tone of his voice made her stop. Reyna slowly turned to see the boy, her boy, standing behind her holding the bright red ball. She forced her lips upward when his big eyes, black and shiny as marbles, met hers. The dejection in his eyes made them droop at the outer corners - just like her father's had when he had gazed upon her with sorrow.

"Were you running from me?" he questioned her.

"No, of course not," she lied. She wanted to run, to get far away from here before his fake mother and real grandfather appeared.

"Want to play with me?" He held the ball up to her, anxiously waiting for her to take it.

"But what about your mother and father? Weren't you spending time with them?"

"Reyna, what are you doing here?" her father inquired as if to answer her question.

"Daddy!" Selim exclaimed, throwing his arms around the man's waist.

Reyna visibly flinched, swallowing convulsively to push back the bile that had risen in ther throat. That should be Roy standing there. Anger surged through her veins. At the moment she could easily grant her father's request to kill him without a second thought. She could thrust a knife through his eye, swirling it around for good measure to scramble his brains just as he had instructed her.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" he offered with aplomb, staying completely unflustered.

"No, thank you," she replied flatly.

Selim made a small sound of disappointment. "Could you come back another time? Maybe spend the afternoon with me?"

"Yes, Reyna, you should come back when you stay for a while. You should get to know Mrs. Bradley and Selim." He placed a protective hand on the boy's chest over his heart.

"That would be nice." She forced a smile to her lips, bowing respectfully to her father. "Would tomorrow work for you? It's Sunday. That would be a pleasant day for a family reunion."

"Family?" Selim glanced at Reyna then up at his father and back again. He was confused.

"Yes, of course." Patting his son's chest reassuringly, he returned his daughter's contrived smile. "Son, there's something important that you need to know about Reyna."

Her heart stopped for a few beats before starting again, beating so fast she thought it might flutter out of her chest.

"We'll discuss this at greater length tomorrow. Come by at three for afternoon tea. I will inform Mrs. Bradley. She and I must have a discussion to prepare her for your visit."

Selim switched his focus back and forth between the adults as if he was observing a tennis match. He had no idea what was happening.

"Yes, sir," Reyna said, saluting her father. "Tomorrow then."

Reyna had no idea what her father planned to tell Mrs. Bradley, but she doubted it would be the truth - at least not all of it. She understood telling the woman a lie would be more merciful than telling her even a partial truth of Reyna's identity. Unfortunately, her father was not known for his benevolence or leniency, not even to her. What would he tell Selim about her? Tomorrow she would find out.