Inextricable
Chapter Seven: Connections

By the time Edward's train reached Central Station, he'd played those last few words of Alphonse's over and over again in his brain. He knows. He KNOWS! Who else knows? Gracia-san, it was almost certain. If Al knew, Gracia-san, who saw Ed and Winry together almost every day, had to know.

But did Winry know? Did Winry feel the same way? Was it too soon after everything that had happened to him — to them — to think about crossing the line separating friendship and something more?

Let me get through his case, and then I'll think about what to do next, Ed thought, bargaining with himself. Somewhere as deeply buried as his feelings for Winry lay the knowledge that this argument was just a ploy to keep himself from having to deal with those feelings. But he'd deal with that later, too.

He took the streetcar back to Central HQ, taking off his navy coat and draping it over his arm. He quickly pocketed his glasses just before he dropped with practiced ease off the back of the streetcar, landing gracefully on the sidewalk where a small group of young women was just then walking by. They stared at him, giggling and whispering. One of them waved. He smiled crookedly, and gave them a careless salute before heading off to his office, followed by a fresh wave of their giggles.

Hawkeye sat in her office with the door open. Black Hayate slept curled up on a rug in front of her desk, but no one else seemed to be around.

Ed gave her a similar salute to the one he'd given the girls, and she glanced up and smiled. "Working the weekend, Fullmetal?" she inquired.

"This case...," he said, knowing that explained it all. She was up-to-date on his lack of progress.

She nodded and changed the subject. "How's Alphonse doing at Hoyle?"

"He loves it. Top of his class already."

"Naturally. He's an Elric, after all." Ed blushed at the implied compliment, gave a little nod, and hurried off to his own office.

Evidence that Scieszka was somewhere nearby littered her desk. Opened books, scribbled notes, two mostly-finished cups of coffee, crumbs.

Maria and Denny had departed the day before to follow-up on the hyena angle based on the theories they'd devised during their late-night review earlier in the week. Ed's own part of the research stood in a stack on his desk.

The key, he thought, would be in finding other alchemists who'd worked for Gran at the same time as the late alchemist, Marissa Landis. Ed felt better, knowing her name. He liked to have someone to avenge and not just an amorphous "evil" to work against. She likely wasn't an innocent victim. Maybe she'd been just as bad as Gran and Tucker. But she'd been made into a chimera and then had killed herself in an act of such desperation, it hurt Ed to think of it. He'd been that desperate before in his own life. No one should ever have to be that scared and be alone with it, too.

It was dark by the time he'd worked his way through the stack of missing persons reports — missing alchemists, all. Scieszka had returned after he'd been working for about an hour, but they'd merely exchanged nods and both continued their work. At about seven o'clock, Hawkeye had suggested food, and then had tracked down an enlisted man to go fetch it for them. At eleven-thirty, Scieszka had gone to the Gryphon's Claw, the bar recently most-favored by military personnel, and purchased three cups of their wonderful and extremely strong coffee.

Ed had been moving back and forth between the archive room and the ever-shrinking pile on his desk, cross-referencing each candidate against his or her records. Several State Alchemists had been involved with Gran's work — they hadn't all been civilians — and he'd narrowed his field of missing alchemists to three who fit the profile he and his team had worked out.

At midnight, coffees in hand, the three gathered to review Ed's notes. "Vera Landis, Marissa's sister-in-law, married to her brother, who was also an alchemist," he read. "State Alchemist, title of Green Alchemist — I think he specialized in botanicals. He died years ago during the Ishbal Massacre. Vera and Marissa continued to work together after that, and they went missing at almost the same time, right after... right after I did. And now we've found Marissa."

"A lot of people went missing then," Hawkeye commented. "Most of them took the opportunity all that chaos afforded to desert."

Ed nodded. "I think that might be the case here. Vera's a State Alchemist, title of True Blood. We already know Marissa wasn't. The records are vague about what Vera was doing between Ishbal and the destruction of Lab Five," Ed continued. "Which makes her an excellent candidate."

"The name is familiar, but I can't think of why. You should talk to the brigadier," Hawkeye said. "He probably knew her."

Ed suppressed a snort and nodded. "The other two have similar stories to Vera's. Geoffrey Maier, another civilian, and Marcel Watson—"

"Oh!" Scieszka gasped. "The Shooting Star Alchemist? I thought he was dead."

"Apparently just missing. I'm going to follow-up on Vera myself, so I'll be away for a few days," he finished.

Hawkeye nodded and stood up. "Good work."

Ed frowned, standing as well. It was time for him to go, anyway. His eyes were too fuzzy to read even one more word. "You think so?" he asked, really wanting to know.

"Investigations aren't easy. Each piece has to be figured out through hard work. You're making good progress, working well with your team, and adapting to the new information as you find it out."

"It's just taking such a long time," Ed muttered, shuffling the papers on his desk as a distraction from his own misery at that fact.

It was Hawkeye's turn to snort. "You of all people, Fullmetal, know that finding the truth takes time and work." And she left.

Scieszka looked at him, eyebrows raised, and they exchanged smiles. She straightened her own desk, pulled on her coat, and left. The light went dark in Hawkeye's office a moment later. He glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Nothing else to do but go back to the dorm, himself, and try to sleep.

"We should have skipped the midnight coffee," He muttered, but downed the last wonderful mouthful before throwing the cup away.

He wanted to see Winry. He'd wanted to see her all the way home on the train, all the way to HQ on the streetcar, all the way through the stack of files on missing alchemists. But he didn't know what to do or say when he did see her.

They'd had lunch that next day, just as he'd suggested, and she'd been full of funny stories about her so-far failed search for an automail shop. Every place she'd looked at was all wrong in one way or another. The building was too big or too small or falling apart or far too fancy. Nothing seem right. Nothing seemed even to have potential to fix up or rearrange to work.

As she'd talked about her quest, an idea had suggested itself in the very back of Edward's brain. The idea had been developing ever since, working out problems that might prevent it from being a good idea, composing arguments to support itself, and generally becoming an idea Ed wanted to share with Winry.

Sunday lunch was a traditional must-attend for him at Gracia-san's house. Sometimes there were other guests, too. Friends of Elysia's from school; friends of Gracia-san's; friends from back in the day when Maes Hughes had still been alive. Once, Mustang had been there, too, but Ed doubted he'd be brave enough to share an entire meal with Winry. She'd done her best to forgive the man for what he'd done, but Ed couldn't blame her for not wanting to be reminded of her parents' deaths during dinner.

Go get some sleep, you moron, he scolded himself. You'll fall face-first into your plate tomorrow if you stay up much longer.

He pulled on his coat and switched off the light as he left his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Looking up at a sound, he saw Mustang himself standing a few feet away, watching him.

"Not good, Fullmetal. Was a time, I'd never have been able to get this close to you without your knowing."

"Who says I didn't know?" Ed shot back, his crooked smile snapping into place.

Mustang took another step closer. "I do. You're pushing yourself too hard. As usual. The woman's already dead; nothing you do can save her. You don't have to kill yourself just to solve this mystery."

"Have you been reading my reports?" Ed asked, leaning back against the door with a tired sigh. "I don't think this is a one-time thing."

"Even so," Mustang said, his hand opening in a gesture that was half-shrug. There's time to figure it out. If you don't pace yourself, you'll get sick. And then Alphonse and Miss Rockbell will kill me."

Ed's crooked smile turned into a grin. "So this apparent concern is all about you, after all. Isn't it, Brigadier?"

"I think there's another word beginning with 'b' that you're thinking when you say my rank, Fullmetal," the general shot back, his own expression turning into a smile.

"Bastard," Ed obliged. "Bastard General, sir."

The man shook his head, a full smile gracing his face. "God, I missed you. No one else insults me with such complete conviction and moral certainty."

Ed gave a tiny bow. "Happy to be of service, bastard-sir."

Mustang sighed as if very happy which struck Ed as hilarious. "Let's get a drink," the general suggested. "The Gryphon will be open for hours, and you don't have to be at Gracia's house until lunchtime."

"All right, stupid know-it-all Bastard General," Ed said. "Let's."

As they walked toward the entrance, Mustang said, "Your review is coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you'll do for requalification?"

Ed would have sneered at this if he hadn't caught the implied reference. It was a bittersweet memory; their last duel had been emceed by their mutual friend Maes Hughes. Is he friendless, now? All subordinates and no friends?

"I'll kick your ass, again, if that's what you're suggesting," Ed replied.

Mustang barked a laugh and said, "I'm not sure the current leadership is crazy enough to approve such an exam these days."

Ed stopped and turned to face the general, and the man stopped, too, and looked expectantly at him. "Why wasn't I arrested when I came back?"

All expression vanished from the general's face. "Didn't Alphonse tell you?"

"Maybe he did," Edward allowed. "Maybe I want to hear it from you."

It was Mustang's turn to collapse back against the wall with a sigh, and Edward wondered to himself at the change in the man. Mustang's dream of becoming Fuhrer may as well have died with Hughes, and was certainly impossible now, after all that had happened after the war.

But Mustang had experienced more than his share of loss and disappointment, and he'd helped Ed more than Ed had ever given him credit for. He'd never acknowledged properly just how much of Al's restoration was thanks to Mustang's support.

"Once everything calmed down and the interim civilian government was in place," Mustang began. "The war crimes trials began. Everyone was investigated and a lot of us actually stood trial."

"You did?" Ed exclaimed.

Mustang nodded. "Of course. I was a command officer."

"It went all right, obviously," Ed said. "You've been promoted."

"Yes. I was exonerated. Most of the investigations of the lower ranks were quick. Havoc, Hawkeye, everyone in my command was exonerated. Most were promoted. Many others weren't. Many were demoted or dishonorably discharged or imprisoned. Many of the trials were in absentia. Yours was."

Ed gaped at the general. Tried in absentia? "Al didn't say anything about that."

"It was a closed trial. Too much of the evidence surrounding you was highly classified. Most people don't even know the trial took place, but it did. In the end... the case was made that you acted in the best interests of Amestris, in spite of some of your more... unorthodox methods. It was decided that, for the good of the country, you would be pardoned. In order to pardon you publicly, the details would have to come out, and no one wanted that to happen. So, publicly, it was said that you were found innocent."

His blood ran cold. Pardoned? "What was I pardoned for doing?" Ed rasped.

"Disobeying orders. Insubordination. Desertion. Performance of human alchemy."

"Shit," Ed breathed. "How many people know?"

"Just the Inquisition and those of us who participated in the trial in some way. About twenty people. No one's going to discuss it. If something happened — say someone tried to blackmail you — the pool of suspects would be vanishingly small, and you weren't the only person this was done for."

Ed's eyes flickered to the general's face. "You?" he whispered.

Mustang's nod was almost imperceptible. "Aiding and abetting. Some hints of treason."

"Shit," Ed repeated, much more matter-of-factly. They were both silent for a long time, and then Ed said, "Hey, how about that drink?"

He was rewarded with the return of the general's smile. Though he hadn't spelled everything out, it was clear to Ed that the general had saved him. That someone had saved Mustang, too, was equally clear. They'd both survived what should have been their downfalls. They both shared a friend who had, in some way, died because of them. They'd both done things they'd never be able to completely forgive themselves for having done.

As they passed through the front entrance and out into the darkness, Ed said, "I never knew if I could trust you. I did trust you, but I always wondered if I should."

"I'm sorry that I gave you reason to doubt me," Mustang said, using the dark to hide his expression. "I wasn't always sure how to deal with you."

"Yeah, well, let's go from here, okay?" Ed suggested. "Seems we both have clean slates now. Might as well take advantage of them."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Mustang only pretended to be a heavy drinker. In actuality, he nursed a single drink, watched everyone else surreptitiously, and kept up a surprisingly lively conversation filled with more gossip about their fellow officers than Ed would ever have expected the man to share with him. Ed suspected he'd been right and that the great Roy Mustang really needed a friend. Well, so do I, and if Mustang was a good enough friend for Hughes, he's good enough for me.

Nevertheless, drunk or not, they were still out very late, and when he woke up at last, for the second morning in a row, Ed swore and dashed for the showers.

He arrived at Gracia-san's house with his still-wet hair braided back and in decidedly civilian clothes. This was almost as startling to Winry as the sight of his uniform had been, and she gaped at him.

"C'mon, Winry, it's just a shirt!" he exclaimed, handing her the cake he'd bought on his way over.

"You're always in that black outfit—" she exclaimed. "It's just... it's weird to see you in real clothes."

Elysia giggled at that. "Ed-niisan always wears real clothes on Sundays," she explained.

There were no guests, Ed saw, and he fell into his role, slicing up the bread, helping Elysia set the table, and fixing anything that might be broken which today was a favorite toy horse.

By the time they all sat down to eat, the atmosphere was relaxed and happy and so right, Ed wished the day never had to end.

As Gracia-san sliced the cake, and he poured out coffee for the three grown-ups and milk for Elysia, Ed decided it was a good time to share his idea with Winry, but she also seemed to have had an idea, and she spoke up first.

"I found the absolutely most perfect place," she said.

"And?" Gracia-san prompted.

"It needs a lot of work. But it could be really great. It could be wonderful. I just don't know if I have the money to fix it up properly."

Ed did a mental cheer at that. His idea would work after all! "Let's go look at it together tomorrow," he suggested. "I can take a long lunch break."

Gracia-san's eyes met Ed's for a brief moment, and he knew, then, that she did know. She and Al. And Hawkeye, too, probably. Maybe even Roy — Can't believe he told me to call him Roy off-duty. He called me Edward! Weird. Not sure I can get used to this. Everyone knew, and he'd thought it was a big secret, and Winry didn't seem to aware of it at all. God, we're stupid.

Delighted, Winry latched onto his offer, and then spent the rest of the day going on and on about what she wanted to do with the property. It was love, for certain, and Ed wanted to help her get this thing she wanted so badly.

The next day, back in uniform, Ed met Winry at a café only three blocks from HQ. "Her" building stood only another block away, situated perfectly between the military compound and the hospital.

They purchased a picnic lunch and strolled over to the Winry's beloved building. The building itself had obviously once been beautiful, but its impressive façade was now marred by broken and boarded-up windows. Winry had the key from the agent and unlocked the door, leading Ed into the dim, dusty interior as if nothing had been amiss with the outside.

Dust didn't begin to describe it. The place had been left derelict for a very long time to have reached the state it was now in. The rocks which had broken the windows dotted the floor. Clear evidence of animal infestation lay strewn around the room, too, and what little furniture had been left behind was buried in dust and broken.

"What happened here?" Ed said, disbelieving. "You'd think this building would have been sold or rented right back out when the last owner left."

"I know," Winry said, sadly. "I guess it was the war. The owner didn't sell it. He just disappeared, and since it was paid-for, no one even noticed for a long time that it had been abandoned. The agent said she's been dealing with the family by mail for the past month, but they don't seem to understand the state it's in, so they don't want to come down on the price very much."

"We could send them pictures," Ed suggested.

"Gracia-san already took some," Winry agreed, grinning at him. She spun around in the middle of the — Ed had to admit — perfect space for an automail shop. "I want this place so much! Can't you just see me here?"

He could. He did. Now was his idea's time to make itself known. "It's you, Winry. It's perfect. And I've been thinking..." She stopped twirling and looked at him, expectant. "This is a big place. How many rooms are there?"

"More than I'd need. But I could always rent out the extra space—"

"Yeah, that's just it," Ed interrupted. "That's what I've been thinking. What if I..." As he started to say the idea out loud, he began to doubt it. What if this is a crazy idea. What if she thinks I'm suggesting something else?

"Yes?" Winry prompted after a momentary, awkward silence.

Aigh. Just say it. The worst she'll do is hit you with a wrench. And the idea tumbled out in a rush. "What if we bought the place together? You know, shared it? I could have an office and a library and a place to stay when I was in the city. You could have all of your stuff. We could share the kitchen, and if you want, we could hire someone to come in a clean since we'll both be so busy, maybe even cook. And there'd be room for Al to stay when he's in town."

Winry's mouth had dropped open as he'd blurted all this out, and by the time he reached the part about Al, her shocked expression had resolved into something closer to delight.

"Ed!" she breathed. "That's the most wonderful idea! Do you mean it?"

Relieved, Ed nodded. "I've been thinking about it since we talked last week. That it'd be easier for you to find a place if you could think bigger about it. This is Central, after all. There aren't a lot of small shops around that would work for automail."

"Sorry for asking," Winry began. "But do you have the money to go in on something like this?"

Ed's crooked smile appeared, and he nodded. "I was always on an expense account when I was traveling, and Al never needed anything, so I barely spent a dime of my earnings since I joined the military. Then, just last week, I found out I'm getting back pay and a combat bonus."

"But you act like you're broke!" Winry exclaimed, looking at him with a very familiar, annoyed expression. Ed wondered where her wrench was hiding and when it would conk him.

"Well, Al has a scholarship, but Hoyle is still expensive. And I've been saving for a house."

Winry stared. "That is the most mature thing I've ever heard you say, Edward Elric."

"Couldn't let you be the only grown-up," he said. They grinned at each other and Winry twirled around again.

"We have to buy this one, or the deal's off!"

"Fine," Ed agreed. "Show me around. I promise I'll do my best to fall in love with it, too."

It was a great place, with several large, airy rooms which could be turned into whatever you wanted them to be. Two bathrooms — a selling point in and of itself — and a very large kitchen at the back, facing out into the massive back yard completed the argument. The yard was enclosed by a very tall, wooden fence and well-placed stands of trees. A small, neglected garden stood in one corner of the yard. But it was the rotting pile of cut lumber that gave Ed his next idea.

"Let's buy the place as-is," he said.

"Oh, Ed. It's terribly overpriced," Winry argued.

"I know," he said, smiling a sly smile at her. "But let's buy it. Everything's here that we need. It's perfect."

"Ed! We won't have enough money to fix—" and then she realized what he was suggesting. "Oh, wow. That is a great idea. Can you do it?"

"Hell, yes!" Ed declared. "Who do you think I am, anyway? We may have to buy some spare parts, or we could haul stuff in from the junk yard. But there's enough here to work with."

"This is crazy!" Winry giggled. "Are you seriously suggesting that you're going to transmute our house?"

Ed threw his flesh arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug as he threw out his metal arm to encompass the property. "Just tell me what you want it to look like when I'm done."