"Hm… well, his name was Roy Mustang and he was a Colonel in the army. He was distinguished as being a fighter in Ishibal and knowing how to master fire through alchemy. He was one of the first military personnel you ever met and you guys spent a couple of years out East under his supervision. I don't think Ed ever liked him too much, but you never seemed to be upset with him like Ed always was. Um… I did get to ride on the train once with his lieutenant. She was dedicated to him and what he stood for. I suppose they were good people. Those two and their comrades went out of their way to make sure you guys were okay – to look out for you and to protect you. I don't know what else I could tell you about him that you'd want to know…"

54 - Those Who Watch Over Him

Biting into an apple, Ed scanned a corner store's magazine stand. His train out of Vienna wasn't leaving for another three hours, so rather than grow old sitting on a bench, he decided to see what he could of the city near the station. Holding the ripe apple in his teeth, Ed picked up a local paper and quickly skimmed it over.

"Looking for something in particular?"

Flipping the print shut, Edward returned it to the rack, "Nope," he dropped the apple into his hand, "I'm just killing time."

The middle-aged man tending the stand leaned over a rack of magazines as he eyed Edward, "Where are you going?"

As if the connection between Edward and travelling was unnecessary, he replied, "Back to Germany."

The man's thick black eyebrows twitched, "What the hell is with all the Germans lately? You'd think all of you would still be too embarrassed to show your faces outside of the country."

Ed snorted at the comment, "Why do you assume I'm German?"

With a grumble the man replied, "You said 'Back to Germany'. No other reason to go to Germany unless you belong there. Half the country is still discovering how to build houses, the economy is horrid, and taking us down with it. The politicians sound like they can't tell what colour the sky is, PLUS the dirt I'm standing on is worth more than your Mark."

"I suppose those are good reasons," Ed responded casually, like the man's comments meant nothing to him, and he gnawed on his apple a bit more.

The man's voice continued to rise, "And then you think you can walk into our beautiful city and pawn off your propaganda on us!"

Ed rolled his eyes tiredly and looked over at the shopkeeper, "Who's handing out propaganda?"

The man abruptly knelt down behind his stand and Ed eyed the shop curiously, waiting for him to rise. Without warning, a magazine launched into the air. Ed caught it by its fluttering pages before it could land on the ground.

"Take it back with you. Just because the NSDAP chairman used to live in this city it does not mean everyone here is going to follow that type of thinking," the shopkeep snarled.

Confusion started to wander into Ed's face as he smoothed out the publication in his hands, "What is it?"

"Its garbage is what it is. Some guy, Hess I think he said his name was, came through here the other day and asked me to hand out some of those," the man continued on as Ed examined the cover, "I put it on the shelf too; I'd seen another stand with it downtown. Damn fool I was, I should have read it first. My mother broke down in tears when she saw it."

Flipping to the back page, Ed scanned the publisher's text trying to see if he could quickly find out what was wrong with this obviously German magazine. The shopkeep prattled on, showing little concern for the lack of attention Ed was giving him while he complained. With a swift flick of his left wrist, Edward took the apple from his mouth and placed it down on the magazine stand as he found a name that rang an unfortunate bell, "Eckart…?"

The shopkeeper eyed Edward's apple before addressing him, "I said Hess, that's nothing like Eckart."

Flipping the magazine shut, Ed looked back up at the man, "No, Eckart is the editor of this magazine."

As if his voice could bite, the shopkeeper stepped out from behind his stand, "Someone you know?"

"Someone my father's met," Ed rolled up the magazine in his hand and tucked it under his right arm, "this is garbage right?"

"Take it!" the man waved an arm emphatically, "take your food with you too!"

Snatching up his apple, Ed turned and walked away from the riled shopkeeper. Taking a final bite of his apple, Ed threw it into the street-side trash, and made his way back to the train station.

Al clenched his fists to hide any sign of shaking as he stared up to the one-eyed man standing in his path. Forcing as much determination into his gaze as he could encourage, Al was surprised to find himself winning the stare-down, and the man standing over him suffered from a momentary loss of words.

"I…" Al hesitated - he could force his face to look stern, but his disposition wasn't as easily controlled, "I heard what you were talking about in there."

The pause in the young boy's words gave the startled brigadier general the fraction of time he needed to recompose himself. Mustang's overwhelmed expression vanished and he stiffened his jaw while his good eye analyzed what stood before him. The man replied with nothing and it sent a nervous chll through Alphonse.

"You don't need to treat Clausé like that if she doesn't know anything," the circles under Al's exhausted eyes turned a shade darker while challenging a man he'd figured out was someone important, even if he wasn't dressed like it.

Without any noticeable prompt, Mustang took a backwards step into the room. Hawkeye backed up as well and the duo opened a path for Al to enter the room. A bit surprised that he'd actually been successful with the adults, Al's determined expression accidently vanished from his face and it left him standing puzzled in the doorway. As the young Elric dug up the courage needed to step past them into the room, he could feel the weight of their interrogative eyes following his every step. Without glancing at them again, Al gave a passing thought to the one-eyed man with the eye patch, and he innocently wondered what might have happened to him.

Al made his way over to Clausé and the two plain-clothed officers watched as the two children embraced. Mustang watched the bewildering scene, struggling to figure out how all the pieces fit together, and he glanced over to Hawkeye with enough time to catch the distant expression she cast over Alphonse and Clausé before it faded. She glanced over to Mustang and the look in her eyes asked only questions, but the expression on his face provided no answer.

"Alphonse," Mustang's abrupt and firm release of his name startled the young boy and he quickly looked over.

A hint of frustration crossed the brigadier general's expression; the more he thought about the boy standing in front of him, the more questions he had that needed answering. Every action, every peep he made, made the tidal wave of questions larger. There were few things Mustang hated more than being so blatantly left to openly wonder. An uneasy thought crossed Mustang's mind; this boy may not be the youngest Elric. This young man was behaving like he was surrounded by total strangers and his only worry was for the girl – if he was Al, where the hell was his brother?

Despite everything, every fibre of Mustang's being told him this child was Alphonse Elric, and he'd never been one to distrust his own instinct.

"What are you doing here in Central?" Mustang's question was blunter than he'd intended, but the confusion and frustration was growing.

Taken aback by the abrupt question, Al took a more defensive posture, "There was a train delay." His answer was accurate and direct and not at all what Mustang wanted to hear.

The brow of the man's single eye lowered, "Why didn't you contact anyone to advise you were arriving?"

Confusion and exhaustion fuelled Al's confrontational tone, "Why would I need to contact anyone?"

Clausé's voice rang out, "Central isn't a place that you have to register to get into. It's enough that they're making people carry around identification now."

"We had identification and train passes anyways, so there's no reason for me to have to register with the city! Why would a city this huge care about what visitors it gets?!" Al's defiant voice almost echoed.

Mustang took a mental step backwards. This boy, with an unmistakable voice, was honestly behaving like he had no idea who was asking the questions.

Perhaps a more logical conversation would have taken place if Al hadn't felt so crushed under his own tired weight. The strain on his voice brought Al to cough again and he crawled onto the bed next to Clausé to wait for it to subside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Al's legs dangled over the side, nowhere near tall enough for the tip of his toes to touch the ground.

Both Al and Clausé looked up as the sound of high-heeled shoes connected with the floor. Hawkeye approached the pair, silently stopping in front of Al, and the woman crouched down before the young boy.

"Alphonse…" her voice was soft, "how old are you?"

His brow knotted curiously, "Eleven."

Mustang's jaw clenched, "Do you know who we are?"

Al's expression pinched, "No."

Mustang's brow wrinkled in displeasure as he tried to untangle the puzzle of the child in front of him. The voice of Alphonse Elric in the armour had never aged and never matured. The voice had remained constant, trapped in his eleven-year-old state, and it was easy to place that voice in the body of a young boy. When Mustang looked at this boy, the voice made sense. But, Alphonse Elric should be sixteen-years-old by now. If the Philosopher's Stone had been used, like Ed had desired for his younger brother, then why was Al here like this, as a child, unable to recognize the people who were surrounding him? Where the hell was Ed? A new list of questions sprang up.

"This isn't possible," Mustang's voice cut through the room. All eyes turned to him as he stepped up next to Hawkeye. His single eye glanced to Clausé and concern for her presence was quickly disregarded, "Ed said he had the Philosopher's Stone. He possessed the ability to bypass Equivalent Exchange."

Al's eyes widened abruptly.

Roy frowned, "So, how are you here like this?"

"Edward!"

The voice calling the name was not distinguishable above the noisy crowd at the train station in Munich.

"Edward! Edward! Dammit, over here! EDWARD!"

By chance, Ed glanced over his shoulder and spotted the waving hand within the crowd, "Aw shit…" his voice suddenly full of displeasure and confusion. Shoving through the crowd, Ed begrudgingly turned off of his aimless path and headed towards the young man calling for him.

"Ah! Thank God…" the teenager, just old enough to be officially considered a man, stepped through the crowd to join Ed.

Shaking the hair from his face, Ed moved to within earshot, "Hoffie, what are you doing here?" his voice rang out unimpressed.

"Your father asked me to pick you up - he couldn't get away," he announced as the two began to make their way through the thinning crowd.

Ed was legitimately surprised by the comment, "You mean the old man actually got the telegram I sent from Vienna?" he swung his briefcase over his shoulder, "strange things happen now and then I guess. I was sure I'd have to catch a taxi or walk."

Edward's younger companion put his hands in his pockets as the two began to walk with a bit more freedom, "That's probably why the professor asked me to pick you up."

Giving a sigh, Edward's brow came down heavily as he frowned; he was long past tired of his father's concern over his physical state. Besides which, he'd been having better luck lately with his leg, compared to the burden his arm was, "Hoffie, I don't need a caretaker. If I can take off to the vast land of Rumania, I can certainly trek across the even vaster land of Munich."

"I'm sure you can," the young man said with complete disregard to Edward's sarcastic tone, "and stop calling me that!"

"There's nothing wrong with calling you Hoffie," Edward rolled his eyes as they exited the station and stepped out into the bustling streets of mid-day Munich.

"How the hell did you come up with 'Hoffie'?! It sounds like something a kindergartener would say," the younger man's disapproving scowl drove into Ed.

"Hoffie is?" Edward looked up at a sickly blue sky; "I've called you Hoffie for years…"

"And I've objected for years!" he took a swift, deep breath in through clenched teeth, "it sounds like a disease or something."

Ed flashed a cocky smirk back in response, "So now that you're a big 18-year-old-boy, I can't call you Hoffie? Your dad thinks it's funny at least."

"You're not that much older than me, so don't lecture me like that," the young man gave a defeated exhale and simply shook his head, "What's wrong with calling me Al?"

"I'm not calling you 'Al'," Ed's emotionless tone slapped his listener across the face for the suggestion.

Reaching into his pocket for a set of car keys, Albrecht Haushofer opened the door for Edward and whined like a pleading child, "But everyone else calls me Al."

"Your friends at school call you Al," Ed sat himself down abruptly in the passenger's seat, "I'm not calling you Al."

Adjusting himself in the driver's seat, Albrecht turned the key in the ignition, "Could we settle on Albrecht at least?"

"No, I like Hoffie."

Albrecht slammed his foot down upon the gas pedal and the car lurched forward. The corner of Ed's mouth curled upwards as he grinned to himself and from there on two moved through the city in silence. Ed's focus waned as the drive wore on and his attention fell to the sidewalks – yet again, the city's garbage removal had probably gone on strike. If it wasn't apparent by simply looking at it, he could certainly smell the rotting materials coming through the windows as they drove on.

Ed suddenly jolted as the car was brought to a stop.

"Did you want to head out there or just go to the university?" Albrecht asked, idling the car at the campus parameter.

"I'd rather the university," Ed's voice suddenly sounded tired as he looked over to one of the university entrances, "I can still get in if I change my mind." As he stepped out from the car, Edward turned back to look inside, "Do you know when Rudolf went to Vienna?"

Albrecht laughed at that, "Last weekend. You were busy off at the central office trying to locate that Obergg-something-er-other."

"Did he really think that trying to corrupt shop owners in Vienna would do him any good?" Ed leaned up against the side of the car, "I think he pissed them off more than anything."

Shrugging a bit, Albrecht didn't hide his enthusiastic tone, "What do you mean 'corrupt'? He does what he has to. Rudolf wants to make sure he's the right hand man when they push again for a leadership change – he has to show his support and allegiance. I suggested he decentralize a bit; get his ideas out to more than just the German people. Talk to the Austrians and Hungarians and get an allegiance of supporters outside of the country as well; alliances are needed internally and externally. You know that filth is out there everywhere holding back the progression of a better Germany. You know that they're the cause of what continues to bring down this country. We can't delude ourselves by denying that they aren't out there in places beyond the German countryside," the young man's tone hardened, "my father said that one of the main reasons for our humiliation in the war was the fact we were naive in understanding the countries, people, and terrain around us. Rudolf agreed that if we could get more than just the German people to understand, it would be easier to rebuild Eastern Europe with a better, stronger Germany at her helm."

A mocking grin crossed Edward's face as he prepared to shut the car door, "You're looking to get into someone's good books. Have you thanked your dad yet for setting up the meeting with him?"

"Oh yeah!" Albrecht replied enthusiastically, "and Rudolf is in touch with the chairman himself - they've been making big pushes for the title of Fuhrer. My father said they're pretty good friends. I'm hoping that I can get my ideas to someone right up at the top. I really want to see my country in a time where we prosper again, all I've seen so far is everyone suffering through war."

Ed paused for a moment, drumming his fingers upon the roof of the car, "Seems so, doesn't it." He shut the car door heavily and turned to walk towards the east side doors, his expression darkened with each step as he replayed Albrecht's speech.

A long silence lingered before Al re-addressed the man towering over him, the young Elric's face slowly falling at the words Mustang spoke. Finally he shook his head and a solemn voice emerged.

"Something always has to be given up in order to obtain something else."

Though Al's recollection of his first day after the transmutation was simply a hazy memory of Rose, Izumi, and what he had come to discover was a golem named Wrath, Al's recollection of his second day back was far clearer. He could remember Aunt Pinako bringing him chicken soup as he lay in bed and the strange memory of his toes and fingertips tingling like they were asleep seemed to stick in his mind. As the day had worn on, Al had gone up to Winry's room where Rose had spent the night – her baby in a makeshift crib nearby. Izumi came up to sit with Al as he slowly rocked the crib the child slept in. He asked his teacher where his brother was and was told a regrettable white lie - Ed was in Central. The unnerving memory of Izumi hugging him as they sat on the floor, and the baby crib creaking as it swayed, was one of the clearest things in his recent memory.

And then Winry came home. She had gone to the train station the day before to see a friend off and ended up spending the night in town at the request of a local mechanic who needed an extra hand. The opportunity to keep herself distracted was welcomed until the morning when Nelly relayed a message from her grandmother that she should return home as soon as possible. Al heard Winry's voice as she came in through the door and the odd out-of-touch feeling he'd felt all day started to lift – Winry was familiar. Winry hadn't been told of Al's situation and Pinako barely had 'Al's in your room' out before her granddaughter took off to see him.

And it was that point when Al realized something was terribly wrong.

With a scream, Winry dropped to her knees on the wooden bedroom floor. Al felt his body unwillingly tremble at the sight of the woman she was – it wasn't right. Never returning to her feet, Winry fumbled her way over to Al as Izumi stepped aside. She rocked with him in her arms on the floor while she cried. All Al could do in return was sway with her like a rag doll while the sense of displacement became overwhelming. The baby began to cry.

As things settled down that night, Al and Winry sat on her bed – her arm draped around Al's shoulder like an older sister should when having a moment with the younger sibling. At that point the both of them learnt that the last five years of Al's memories were missing - there was nothing there either of them could use as a reference point. Al went so far as to laugh awkwardly at some of it, foolishly asking how his hot-headed brother would be able to affix a soul to a suit of armour and how he wished he could 'still' be over six feet tall.

Then Winry explained how he'd lost his body, about Ed's arm and leg, about their burnt down house that could be seen from her window, about Wrath and Ed's limbs, and about how Ed went into the military so he could return things to normal. Over the course of the next several weeks and ongoing months, she, as well as Izumi and Rose, shared select summaries of what they knew of the last five years.

The encounter with Barry, the name Envy, nor the figure that had the face of his mother was ever brought up. Though she shared information about some of the military personnel, Winry did not mention that any of these people were involved with her parents' death. She did not ever want to see Al go to the military for anything, not after all she'd seen them go through. And yet, Winry did not want Al to feel any resentment towards them either.

The Hughes' family was brought up and they talked about how Elysia had been born on Ed's birthday. Eventually Winry had to mention of his passing, but again, she did not elaborate. She did promise that the next morning she'd Al him something from Gracia's recipes. The abnormality that was Alex Louis Armstrong also came up which seemed to make Al giggle.

The selective recollection of Rose and Izumi's stories were relayed delicately to Al. Izumi told Al how Ed believed he could retrieve his body from 'The Gate'. She told him how they went to see Dante for information, but 'problems' arose that caused the boys to have to leave and it was not long afterwards that Dante died. Rose continued the story telling Al that Ed had ended up in Lior again, a place they'd discussed before, along with an Ishibal man named Scar and Dante's apprentice Lyra. Though he asked, no one knew where Al had been before showing up in Lior.

Pinako, Izumi, Rose, and Winry spent several late evenings discussing how to tell Al what happened next. Did they tell Al what Rose knew about Al becoming the Philosopher's Stone? Do they reveal it to him gradually? Do they tell him that he finally got to meet his father and now can't remember what he was like?

How do they tell him about how Ed died?

Izumi was certain no amount of searching would turn Ed up by this point – the only way Al's existence had the remotest chance of being possible was if Edward had sacrificed himself. It was the only answer that fit together with the stories Rose shared. The teacher concluded that Al's five years of missing memories had been used as some sort of leverage to ensure the transmutation's success. That was the best conclusion she could come to. Rose apologized for not being able to describe much about her encounter with the sins or what on earth Lyra was up to. She explained to her adopted family how, at some point in time, she'd begun to lose touch with reality after encountering the homunculus for the first time and she did not regain consciousness until she witnessed the horrific sight of Envy's arm ripping through Ed's chest. Winry left the table in tears at that point and it took the group some time to recompose themselves. Having no idea how much time had passed, what had gone on, or even when it happened, Rose could not explain why or how Al had become the Philosopher's Stone, only that he'd mentioned it before disappearing to bring Ed back.

Eventually Rose was entrusted with finishing the story to Al, who'd been asking about going to find his brother in Central. She started with the soldiers in Lior and how they had been sacrificed in order to obtain the Philosopher's Stone. Al listened with amazement as she told him the stone was then 'entrusted' to his care, without elaborating further. Rose's story told of how Ed and Al left again to find the homunculi, who were after the stone so they could kill them. Hohenheim was never mentioned. She told Al that eventually the homunculus kidnapped him, and Izumi helped Ed get back to Central to find valuable location information from some friends from Xenotime. The location the Xenotime boys gave Ed was where Izumi had eventually found Rose and Al, unconscious as a boy once again.

Rose finally told the youngest Elric that his older brother had died after going there; one of the homunculus had killed him. Al was told that he then used the Philosopher's Stone to bring his brother back. Lyra, someone whom no one could give a proper explanation about, tried to get him to stop, but was unsuccessful. She, along with two other Homunculi, had vanished when the transmutation was executed. Rose explained to Al that when Ed finally re-woke, with a perfect set of arms and legs, he planned to destroy the location so no one else would have to die because of the Philosopher's Stone again.

Al finally found out, after Rose'd left with Wrath at Ed's request, that his older brother had not destroyed the ballroom, but had offered himself as part of a transmutation to allow for Al's safe return. The ballroom was never damaged.

Edward Elric was dead. To say Al was devastated was an understatement.

Weeks later, as he still tried to understand the information given to him and unsuccessfully get more info out of his family, Al asked Izumi why he'd disappeared and needed to be resurrected if he had the Philosopher's Stone. Izumi told him that life was not something even a mythical stone could create; something had to be given up in return. She hoped that they could detour him enough so Al would never seek the stone for any reason – convince him that the stone itself was not enough to bring anyone back. It was one of the few things Izumi asked of him: not to search for the stone. There was another request that was heavily imposed on Al: not to seek out the military for any reason. This request came from the core of Al's family, whom had all grown weary of the years of mounting worries for their two sons.

As the two unfamiliar faces of Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang implored the young Alphonse Elric to tell them something, anything , the boy turned his back to them instead.

"I don't have anything for you," Al told them.

It was far easier for him to say that than it should have been, but the Alphonse Elric who sat there had no emotional ties to them. He didn't even know their names. Al sat there and put his trust into the words of the people he knew best and, with respect to that, he refused to turn around.

"This is so frustrating!" with his heels kicked up onto the table and phone numbers next to his feet, Edward slapped his hand over his face. The faux right arm dangled uselessly over the back of the chair and he let out a long, drawn out groan.

Hohenheim glanced up from his desk inside a magnificent office at the University of Munich. He adjusted his glasses, giving a slight chuckle before looking back down at his paperwork.

Ed shot his eyes over to his father, annoyance drawn all over his face, "What?"

"I didn't say anything," the elder Elric replied without looking up.

"I don't need you to laugh at me," Ed let his leg clunk to the ground as he took his feet off the table, "you try finding someone in all these registries."

His father flicked to the next page in his notes, feigning disinterest, "You've been doing just fine on your own."

Ed dropped his head down on the desk with a whine. He'd searched through what he could get his hands on for the university guestbooks, event guest lists, and any sort of passenger manifests for the last three days, but he could not find any information pertaining to the man he was on a mission to find: Hermann Oberth.

Beneath his flickering lamp light, Hohenheim scribbled out a few notes, "Why don't you ask Albrecht to see if he can get his hands on any special invites? His girlfriend works for the registrar, doesn't she?"

Ed sat slouched in his chair and groaned at his father, "Why don't you ask Professor Haushofer to ask his son to ask his girlfriend to do that?"

Hohenheim rolled his gaze up from the paperwork, eyeing Ed from over top the rim of his glasses; the expression was enough that Ed did not need to hear a verbal no. The younger Elric leaned his chair back on two legs and then let it drop back to four quickly as he stood up. Flicking the top button of his dress shirt undone in the warming room, Ed walked over to his father's polished oak desk, snatched up a wrapped chocolate from a bowl, and tucked it into his cheek, "Isn't there anyone you can send me to?"

Hohenheim returned the dip pen into its holder and sat back in the chair - Ed had to be getting desperate if he was actually asking him, "The moment I inquire into the registrar's office it'll be gossip. It's not a part of the school I have anything to do with."

"What ever happened to that Angela girl who worked down in filing?" Ed frowned.

His father shook his head, "She transferred months ago," he drifted in his sentence as a hand came to his chin, "you can ask her though, she's in the library doing bookkeeping. She might know someone who can get you a bigger list."

Acknowledging his father with a nod, Ed tossed the chocolate wrapper into the garbage and turned his gaze up to the bookcase his father had filled. There was nothing in all these books that could help him, not like his father was the one interested in getting home anyways, so the younger Elric let his mind drain at the excessive sight of ornamental literature. With the deep red curtains drawn behind the old man's seat, the only light in the room came from the lamps that flickered on both Hohenheim and Edward's desks, and Ed turned his focus back to his own work with a scowl.

Hohenheim offered one more solution, "Why don't you just go down to the mechanics building and ask about him?"

Ed nearly choked on the candy dissolving in his cheek, "You've got to be kidding, I am not their favourite person. Besides, from what I heard, Hermann Oberth wasn't one of their favourite people either. I doubt he'd go there," with a thud, Ed sat himself back down at his cluttered table in the grand expanse of his father's office.

Standing up from his desk, Hohenheim gave the bottom of his vest a tug he stepped over to Edward, "You're going to show him the Goddard report?" he eyed the thick envelope that lay suspiciously exposed in Ed's mess of papers.

"I heard he was looking for it. It's practically impossible to find here," Ed pulled the envelope with the report out in front of himself, "there are some really good theories in here that Mr. Oberth hasn't quite gotten to yet. I think it'll help him with his research. I'd like to know what his opinions are on a lot of this stuff. Speed calculations, fuel requirements, stratosphere pressures, oxygen requirements, combustion rates... I'm still lost on a lot of this stuff."

Hohenheim looked down from the corner of his gaze at his son for a moment. A grin crept across his face as he put a hand down upon Edward's head and ruffled up his hair, "You'll do alright."

"Hey!" Edward swatted his hand away, "dammit all! Don't do that." Ed reached back and pulled the ponytail out of his hair to re-do it.

As he headed towards the door, Hohenheim turned back to ask a question before leaving the room. He stopped before he spoke and watched silently as Edward struggled to retie his hair, finally deciding to ask, "Is your shoulder bothering you again?"

"It's fine," Ed snapped.

Offering an unimpressed frown to the reply, Hohenheim walked back towards his own desk. Ed could lie about it all he wanted, his father could see that his right arm did not have the mobility it was supposed to. Opening the bottom right hand drawer, he produced a small leather case and headed back towards Edward, "Here -"

Ed spun quickly out of his chair to face his father, his hair gathered in his good hand at the back of his head, "Bugger off and get your coffee or whatever it was you were going to get."

With a resilient grip, Hohenheim grabbed Edward at the shoulder, spun him around, and firmly replanted his stubborn son in the table's wooden chair. He tossed the case into Ed's mess of papers and it landed with a heavy clunk.

"I don't need you to do this," dropping his hair, Ed tried to remove his old man's hand from his shoulder.

"Hold your hair back."

The firm, authoritative, and nonnegotiable tone caused a reactionary snatch of his hair. Letting his pride slip away from him, Ed's defensive posture wilted behind his glare. Sliding his hair over his good shoulder, Ed reached for the leather case on the table. Opening it, he pulled out a flat head screwdriver and thrust it at his father's hand.

" Fine , do something about it."

The responses Ed gave to his father's attempts at care for him had evolved over the years: he no longer exploded with the rage filled anger he'd subjected the man to while they'd lived in London. Ed had tempered his behaviour down to barking his exasperation and displeasure until it was nearly an act, rather than being fueled by honest malice. Fading over the years was the demoralization he once felt from being cared for by the man - it was still present, but Ed had either accepted it or gotten used to it. So grossly independent, Edward had never wanted to accept his father's assistance from the day he re-encountered the man in a London hospital, unable to stand or move about on his own. At the time, accepting the old man's care was simply a necessity he was forced to stomach.

Hohenheim had started to notice, quite some time ago, that his son's bitterness had started to fade in his defiant actions and words. Edward had begun to sound more like a child who disapproved of going to bed than much else. Something within that behavioural evolution let Hohenheim feel at ease; he never commented on the change, but simply played along. He wondered sometimes if Ed realized that they played this game with each other, or if he denied himself that awareness. The elder Elric found that he'd somewhat enjoyed the denial exercise his son played with him. Eventually, he'd come to feel there were days Edward would give in so easily it seemed as though he enjoyed the attention Hohenheim gave him.

Ed tossed the hair tie onto the desk in a childish display of displeasure. He undid another button on his shirt so his father could tighten a screw at the back of his shoulder.

"You must have felt this for days," it wasn't a statement so much as it was scolding disapproval as Hohenheim examined the burden connected to his son's right shoulder.

Ed's face soured, "I had other things I needed to—geh," he cringed as his father brought the sorry excuse of an AutoMail arm to shoulder's height.

"Don't bite your tongue," adjusting the tool at the bolt, Hohenheim gave it a firm twist as he tightened it into the back of his shoulder blade. Ed lurched in his seat before withering under the pain of a bolt digging back into the bone. Hohenheim lowered the arm until it was limp at Ed's side. Dropping his forehead on the table, Ed gave a staggering sigh; he knew the pain would pass, he simply hated having the major connectors adjusted – they hurt the most. Ed didn't wait for the wicked sensation to pass before lifting his head from the table. He rotated his right shoulder the best he could as he felt his father's hands straighten his shirt collar for him.

"Better?"

Ed cracked his neck as his father handed him the screwdriver, "No, I feel worse."

With an amused roll of his eyes, Hohenheim shook his head at his son.

As Edward put the screwdriver away, his eyes searched the table - there was something he'd needed from the table and he couldn't remember what. Before he was given a chance to figure anything out, Ed abruptly froze when his father's hand landed on his stiffened left shoulder to preemptively silence any oncoming outburst. Sitting ridged in the chair for several indecisive moments, Ed finally slouched over and dropped his helpless gaze to the wooden paneling of the floor. He offered no contest.

"Did you want me to bring you some tea?" Hohenheim asked as he ran a comb through his son's hair, pulling it up into the elastic tie.

"No," Ed answered.

Stringing the fine strands of golden blonde hair through the tightening elastic loops, he continued, "Coffee?"

"No," Ed replied with no more life than he had before.

Adjusting the tied ponytail, Hohenheim gave Ed a light pat on his good shoulder as stepped towards the door again, "No cream, three sugar?"

"Sure."

Hohenheim paused, holding the door handle in his hand, "I'll be right back."

"Yeah," not yet able to lift his heavier arm up from under the burning pain, Ed reached his good hand back and ran the length of ponytail between his thumb and index finger.

This day, dressed in uniform, Lieutenant Ross sat in a cushioned chair in the curtain-closed room. A little scented candle graced the table where the water pitcher and a basket of freshly cut garden flowers sat. The officer watched the candle light flick patterns on the wall through the still water. Atop the covers of the neatly made bed, Alphonse lay quietly and Ross was unsure if he was asleep or not. Al had stopped speaking to anyone the day before and Lieutenant Ross watched how profoundly that had affected everyone, if the vicious tongue-lashing given by Brigadier General Mustang to herself and Sergeant Broche about their poor attention to Al's whereabouts was any indication.

The opened door caught her attention and Lieutenant Ross looked over to Broche as he poked his head in, "Ma'am, Clausé's father is downstairs."

In a quiet voice, she asked, "Any word on where Izumi is?"

"No, I haven't heard," Broche replied, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind himself, "is he feeling better yet?"

Lieutenant Ross' posture sagged, "I don't know."

"Um…" Broche hesitated for a moment, his face twisting, "the Prime Minister wants to meet them… Al and Clausé."

The senior officer looked up at him appalled.

Broche shrugged, "I guess his wife has been in the hospital. I heard on the news she's been rather sick lately. I guess they found out we had the two kids here and wanted to meet them."

Ross gave a disgusted snort, "Political propaganda again."

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Broche wordlessly requested an explanation.

"Oh come on," the woman groaned, "ss if the 'people and family friendly' image is anything but a charade. The man hastily marries a younger woman, they adopt adopt an infant orphan, and now they're parading around as if they're the perfect couple to lead us into this 'new era'," she straightened herself in her seat, "I'd rather the man would worry about his country before worrying about his image."

Broche grinned a bit, "Oh come on, they're trying at least. We've seen political changes in other countries. It's not easy. It hasn't even been a year yet," he sat down in the vacant chair next to hers, "besides, I heard they're actually really good people. You can appreciate that at least?"

Lieutenant Ross rolled her eyes again, "We're not going to argue this in here."

Standing up, the senior officer of the two walked through the candle lit room to the boy who lay curled up atop the covered bed. He had not turned over to face them since the night before.

"Alphonse," Maria whispered, leaning over, "If you need anything, we'll just be outside, alright?"

Hearing the door click shut behind them, Al slowly glanced over his shoulder. The sorrow he'd felt for himself and the people around him that he wished would stop haunting him had faded overnight. Now, he simply wanted to get out of the hospital and find Izumi. He cast his gaze through the room, wondering if he had any other options beyond his third floor window. While his mind ran through scenarios, a number of voices billowing up within the hall grew more prevalent. Before being able to roll back up on his bed and feign exhaustion once more, the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway, a moderately built, slightly out of shape, grey haired father-figure of a man appeared with a smile splashed across his face. Al crossed his legs on the bed and stared back at a man the young Elric figured was probably in his fifties.

The man tilted his head up and eyed Al with intrigue, "He looks a bit older than I thought he would for a boy his age."

Al gave the man a wary look for the statement. Beyond the man's shoulder, the young Elric caught the displeased expression of the one-eyed man who'd tried to question him the prior night. Today, flanked by his right and left hand men: Hawkeye and Havoc, the visually displeased Roy Mustang was still presenting himself out of uniform, though his officers were dressed to represent the nation. Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Broche stood with the trio as well, though they looked slightly more confused by what was going on.

"Alphonse Curtis, was it?" the man intruding on Al offered a smile, "you're looking healthier than I was led to believe."

Al's defensive position caused him to draw back, narrowing a puzzled gaze at the man.

"Ah! No, don't worry, I'm not a mind reader," the man's well-meant attempt at a jolly disposition tried to ease the tension, "that sour looking officer out there told me that's who you were."

Al glanced past the man to catch Mustang's gaze once again relentlessly trained on him and he could only stare back at his frustrated observer with surprise and confusion. After all the trouble Al had caused for them, caused with Clausé, and how upset he'd made them the night before, what was this new man doing identifying him with the surname 'Curtis', when these officers obviously knew otherwise?

"Now young man, that Colonel Mu-"

"Brigadier General, Sir," the correction was nearly hissed through Mustang's clenched teeth.

"That Brigadier General Mustard ov-"

"Must-ANG"

Al's new visitor gave him a wink and Al responded with a light giggle. This new, older gentleman, dressed in a fine grey suit and tie sat down on the bed next to Al, "That Brigadier General Mustang over there says that you're a very lucky boy. And he also says your mother, Izumi, is missing."

Concern started to swell in Al's chest at the thought of his missing teacher. It had been days since he'd seen her.

"I want you to be assured that we're doing our best efforts to find her," the elder man continued on, "my wife has survived some very hard things in her life, and she's always found that the kindness of those in the nation have helped her pull through. Now, she has suggested, and I agree, that we extend that kindness to you and invite you to be our guest until your situation is resolved. Children such as yourself are a symbol of this country's perseverance and ability to survive, and we'll be sure to give you the best possible care in that light."

Al raised his eyebrows at the man in surprise.

The scowl on Mustang's face darkened and he stepped into the doorway, "Does the government not have anything more important to do than worry about these children? I told you that we were perfectly fine to look after him until his mother is found. I have a family that is more than willing to-"

The elder, most senior man in the room cut him off, "The military does not have the same authority as it used to have. You seem to forget this a little too often, Mr. Mustang."

Al's eyes popped over to the frustrated man in the doorway. Wait a minute… wait a minute, he knew that name.

"The government can take under its wing any national issue it deems fit, and I deem this young man an issue I can see to," the man's voice flowed across the room with authority, "I thank you for handling this up until now, but your services are no longer needed in this matter and I even believe that young lady's father has already taken her back under his care. The military's place is no longer what it used to be and it's time for you to take your associates and step away from this situation. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Mustang dropped his abrasive answer and took a backwards step out of the room.

"Very good. Now, Alphonse," the man rose back to his feet and waited until Al looked up to him, "my name is Sebastian Mitchell, when you're discharged from the hospital tomorrow do you have any objections to staying with my wife and I?"

Al examined the man for a moment, wondering why he bothered to pose a question the young Elric was in no position to refuse, "If… that's not a bother to anyone?"

"Very good then, I'll return tomorrow to pick you up," giving Al a warm grin and a pat on the head, the man turned towards the door and exited swiftly past the five soldiers who saluted him on his way by.

A bit bewildered by what had just happened, Al stared through the open door at the five faces he'd grown accustomed to seeing. The disapproving look on the face of the man he now knew was Mustang – the military commander his older brother had served under – seemed to be the most dominating of them all. Al caught their gazes once more when the officers turned and retreated down the hall.

Suddenly throwing himself from the bed, Al's bare feet skidded along the floor as he scrambled out the door, "Sir!" his hands gripped the door frame as he swung into the hallway.

The four uniformed officers and their superior officer stopped and looked back.

Standing in the silence, Al searched his mind for something to say that didn't make the situation any more of a mess than it already was, "That family you said you had arranged for me… can you tell them I'm sorry I can't stay with them?"

The corner of Havoc's mouth curled up in amusement as he popped a cigarette into his teeth and Hawkeye tucked her arms behind her back. Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Broche both turned away with a light smile and continued down the hallway.

Mustang looked directly at the young man addressing them, "You should tell them that yourself, I'm sure she wouldn't mind a babysitter for her daughter one afternoon," the man took a half step towards the stairwell and then added, "and make sure you water those flowers in your room."

Ed's tired eyes watched the pendulum sway back and forth as the late night minutes ticked away. If he'd felt the urge to pick his head up off the table in his father's office, he would have done so, but that required more effort than he was willing to give just then. Momentarily glancing at the keys on Hohenheim's desk, Ed wondered if it was simply best to declare this night a loss as well. Debating the decision as his eyes grew heavier, Ed's attention was suddenly captured by a noise from beyond the office doors.

"Just because there's light on under the door, it doesn't mean anyone is in there," a male voice argued.

"Why would someone waste electricity like that? Of course he's in there."

Edward's eyebrows rose at the second voice – a woman's voice – he recognized it from somewhere, but couldn't pinpoint it. He ran the short list of young women in his father's classes through his mind trying to put a face to it.

"It's ten-thirty at night! We can come back in the morning. It's not that important."

"It's important to me, come on. It'll be quick."

"Just leave people in peace this time of night, my God!"

"You can bugger off to bed then and miss out."

The male voice did not miss his cue to exit, "Good night, little girl," the footsteps of the man walking away could be heard.

"Good night, you useless man."

Ed lifted his head from the table and looked to the door, what the hell? His face twisted in confusion. He wondered if they realized that the whole floor could hear their childish bickering. Edward continued to listen until the footsteps became inaudible and he waited for the female voice to knock on the door. Obviously, she'd been talking about the office he was in because, as far as Ed knew, all the other professors had gone home for the night. So he waited, poised to get up and open the door, but a knock never came, and the ticking of the wall clock began to echo again within the room. Finally Ed got up from his seat, curiosity getting the better of him. Straightening his shirt collar, he pulled the door open and a scream was let out in unison as Edward staggered backwards and the woman practically tumbled through the door.

"Oh my God, you scared me!" the young woman's voice echoed in the doorway.

Ed swung the door open wide, "What do you think-" stopping in mid-sentence, his eyes grew wide, " you ."

The woman brushed her curled brown hair from her face, "You!"

Ed wrinkled his nose in confusion, "What the hell are you doing here?"

The chatty woman from the train station days earlier stepped through the doorway and put herself nose to nose with Ed, "What are you doing here?"

"I work here!" Ed leaned back.

Her eyes narrowed, "You said your father works here."

"Yeah," Ed announced, "this is his office."

She took another firm step towards him, "But, this is Professor Elric's office."

Ed backed up, not liking his personal space being invaded like that, "Yeah, he's my father."

"Is he!?" although she'd stood at the door too nervous to knock, she had no problem trampling all over Ed as she entered the room, "It's so pretty, just like I thought it would be. Oh! Someday my husband'll have an office like this too."

Edward spun on his toes to stop her from invading his father's office any further, "Just hang on, I didn't invite you in. What do you think you're doing?"

"I didn't think it would have crossed your mind to be polite enough to invite me in," she said with a huff, folding her arms, "what a shame, it seems Professor Elric isn't here."

"Obviously," Ed scowled at her.

The woman donned a very delightful grin and piped up again, "Will he be in tomorrow?"

"I'm not his secretary," Ed replied flatly, grabbing her at the upper arm, "can you leave? I'm busy."

"Is my presence not good enough for you? My word…" she jerked her arm away from Edward's grasp, "that's no way to treat a lady. You certainly have no idea how to behave like a gentleman."

"Get out," Edward replied flatly, in no mood to play her game.

Finally showing signs of displeasure, rather than the presumptuous demeanour, the intruder looked ready to slap him, "Learn to respect your elders and ask nicely. Your father's a very nice man, so what happened to you?"

Before Edward could explode, a voice interjected.

"Mathilde!"

Both Edward and Mathilde turned to the door at the man's call. Standing in the door was a finely dressed man in brown slacks and white shirt and tie, with his dark brown hair neatly slicked back, and he looked to be at least a handful of years older than Ed. The expression he wore was predominantly angry, sprinkled with a touch of embarrassment.

"What the hell is going on? The whole building can hear you! "

' Oh shit… ' Ed's shoulders fell.

"I thought you'd left?" she said with the roll of her eyes.

The man didn't step foot into the room, but he continued his conversation from the hall, "I heard you screaming and came back upstairs, but here I find you acting like some spoiled little girl. Were you going to behave like this in front of Professor Elric?"

Giving a dismissing wave of her hand, the exuberant woman brushed off his comments, "Of course not. Don't be silly," she moved for a quick change of topic, "this is Edward Elric, by the way."

The displeasure suddenly swept off the man's face, "Oh, you're Edward Elric? I've heard of you," finally he stepped into the room and reached out a hand for Ed to shake, "I heard you made a few senior graduates look like a bunch of fools last year without a day of classroom education."

"Not the first time I've done that," as Edward scoffed at the comment, he could find no polite way to turn down a handshake he was unable to give, "It was their own fault. They heard I'd tried it in London and dared me to take the post-grad placement exam with them. Not my fault I got the highest mark."

"Well good for you, because there were some far too inflated egos there," he gave a light laugh, taking his hand back a little puzzled.

Ed looked from the man he was addressing to the woman who apparently accompanied him, "Your name was Mathilde, right?"

"Yes," she flashed a sassy grin for Edward, "but you can call me Tilly."

Edward's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry for the rude introductions Mr. Elric," the man gave his head a light shake, "this is my wife, Tilly Hummel. I'm-"

"Oberth!" Edwards's wide-eyed reaction finished the sentence.

A disconcerting expression crossed the man's face at Edward's recognition of his name.

To Be Continued…

Author's Notes:

I'm running with the theory that the progress of time on the other side of the Gate is independent and moves faster than the Amestris side. When Ed was in London for episode 49 and 50, it was 1916, a year later than the year it was on the FMA side (1915). Time is going to move faster in Ed's part of the story at around a 3:1 day ratio.

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X3 I'm glad people are liking it!

Yes, I did research for this story. If only Social Studies had been this entertaining. And just to note, everyone I've inserted on Edward's side of the Gate is a real historical somebody.

Chapter edited 2004-11-29, 2011-10-30, 2012-01-21, 2021-07-06