A/N: After three months of school, labs, and exams, this chapter is finally done. Enjoy. (This chapter would have been longer but...well, I point to the three months.)

Disclaimer: I, in no shape or form, own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter 12: Let's Learn Alchemy

Edward stares at the Alchemy book in his hand, 'Basic Alchemy I'. Alphonse had came by the house earlier in the morning to return the book to Edward, after listening to his rekindled interest in alchemy the day before. He had left it with Alphonse back then, at that park, when he had is… what did happen? He had read something in a book at the Labs. The information would akin his reaction to Alphonse alchemy as a break down.

Now Davis wants him to learn alchemy.

Alphonse did ask why he wants to read the book. Edward could only give his friend a secretive shrug. He couldn't say his renewed interest was because Davis told him to learn the science (in the midst of having sex in a children playground). It was embarrassing when Juliet asked why he was covered in sand as she had tried to effectively dust them to the floor. The thought causes Edward to blush, cheeks reddening to the familiarity of such encounters. It happened a lot in the labs. It usually scares him to know they could be caught, and Davis taken away from him - even if Davis's attachment to Edward is awkward. Before Alphonse came (as a mole), Davis was the only safety he could find in the labs. Even when the military was looking for Davis, the man still continued to stay by his side.

Edward did have to wonder if Davis really did love him?

'He said he could take me away from all this,' Edward could feel his stomach twist, and he couldn't understand why it was there. Wouldn't he want to leave with Davis? The man was protecting him thus far, and Davis profusely states love to be the reason. So why hesitate at the thought of leaving?

He didn't want to leave Alphonse behind. Edward knew he also wants to help in bringing down those people, the ones who started the Labs - though Edward knew the military wouldn't allow it, unless they were sure about him and the others. It is all guessing, but if he wants to trust his instinct than the military would want to keep watch of them.

If he wants to trust his instinct, then he'll notice that he is straying from his original question. Why hesitate at the thought of leaving? What reason was there besides Alphonse?

Could it be for Juliet? No, though Edward could say he felt gratitude for his guardian he wouldn't stay for her. Yet he also wouldn't leave for Davis. Edward laughed to himself in his empty bedroom. If there is nothing to hold him back, he should just leave with Davis - there shouldn't be hesitation. Sex with Davis is the most natural thing in the world now. Whether he faked a moan by habit or for real, it didn't matter when face with Davis protective attitude and behaviour. A knocking at his door punctuates his laughter.

"Edward, I'm going to work now. If you need anything just call?" Footsteps fall away from his door to the front door. Edward once again looks at the books in his hand, and opens it. If he has to learn alchemy, he might as well start now with the infinite amount of time he had.

x x x

Edward could hear the front door open from couch in the living room. The clock most likely read five o'clock; the usual time Juliet comes home and starts to cook supper.

He has spent the last half-hour trying to draw a circle. Edward still didn't understand how the alchemist could draw a circle so flawlessly. Most of the times he drew and ovals, which just for the fun of it, tried to draw the rest of the basic transmutation symbols in the oval shape. He was at some point tempted to see if he could activate the array with the oval transmutation circle. Yet reading the second chapter about rebounds, he crossed the idea and temptation out from his mind.

"Perfect circle," Edward mutters to himself repeatedly as he attempt again on a fresh sheet of paper. Near the end his hands slip upward a bit, another close attempt.

"It's best when you draw with you whole hand instead of just using the fingers."

Edward looks up in surprise at the voice, "Alphonse?" Casually leaning at the doorframe that lead to the front entrance, Alphonse has been observing the paper filled coffee table.

"Juliet has to work late tonight, so she sent me to keep you from starving." Alphonse walks to the coffee table, viewing all the drawn circles. "How long -"

"For the past half-hour. What were you saying about the whole hand?"

"I notice that you drew the circle using your fingers," Alphonse flips the paper over, takes the pencil in Edward's hand and proceeds to draw a circle. "You'll have better control moving your entire hand in a circle." The demonstration results in the aim Edward has been striving for. On the sheet of paper is a nicely drawn circle of Alphonse doing. "It'll still take some practice," Alphonse says handing the pencil back to Edward. "If you need anymore help, I'll be in the kitchen."

Edward watches Alphonse leaves the room before starting his practice again with the technique left behind for Edward to try. The first attempt is another fail, yet he could understand what Alphonse meant by control. As Edward starts another attempt, he knows he'll get the circle drawing down to perfection before Alphonse even finishes with supper.

x x x

"I didn't know you can cook." Alphonse almost drops the pot he is holding, startle by Edward presence. Edward takes a step forward before noticing that Alphonse still has hold on the pot. "Sorry."

Alphonse gives a carefree smile and waves off Edward's apology. "I just didn't hear you coming. Are you taking a break?" He couldn't imagine Edward giving up.

"I'm done, " he said simply.

Astonishment has seemed to almost ruin the evening meal as Alphonse swings in Edward's direction in surprise, the water the pot sloshing over the edge. "You're already done?"

"Well, I don't know if I can draw it consistently. I just stop when a got it," Edward says taking a seat at the kitchen table, lounging casually. "Thanks for the advice by the way."

"Well I'm glad it helped." Placing the pot safely on the stove, Alphonse wipes his wet hands on a rag. Pulling out vegetables and a cutting board, Alphonse turns to Edward, "want to help me?"

"Sure," Edward comes to Alphonse side looking over his shoulder, "what are we eating?"

"Vegetable soup," the askance look on Edward's face forces Alphonse to profess in his own skills. "It won't be like the Labs, I have more skill than the guards."

"The guards were the ones cooking the food? That's why some of the food tasted like shit?"

"Just because you don't like milk doesn't mean everything is bad." Alphonse exasperates, continuing his habit of trying to rectify Edward's dislike for milk. It is a goal that is sure to fail, but Alphonse had to continue and try. "And no, the guards weren't cooking the food." He could already see it coming. Edward leaning back in his chair, holding his left-hand up, ready to start the count off of 'why milk is disgusting.'

Alphonse said the first random thing that came to mind - he didn't need to hear the list again. "How are the doctor appointments?"

"You mean those psychologists?" Hands still poise and an index finger almost moving to straighten up from the rest of his lightly close fist. "I think I get a new one for tomorrow's session."

"A new one tomorrow? But didn't you just transfer to Dr. Lowe last months." Alphonse moves a pile of carrots to the right side of the cutting board for Edward.

Edward took another knife from the drawer and stands by Alphonse, to see how the vegetables are cut – he has never cook before or read anything on the subject in the Labs; so he is going to learn by example. Following the movements Alphonse hands, Edward continues with the conversation.

"Yeah, around that time. She was nice, though I think she's a scatter brain."

"Then why are you transferring to a new psychologist? You didn't call her a scatter brain in front of her, did you?" Alphonse pauses in his task to watch Edward's face for possible guilt - or to see the amusement he is seeing now on Edward's mischievous smile.

"I don't think she'll break down because of an insult. That's just stupid", he says sharply and haughtily. Edward brushes the cut carrots to the edge of the cutting board with the knife. "They just keep giving me different doctors. It's always the same thing anyway. I sit, they sit, they ask question, I don't want to answer, and I don't answer." Edward takes a bite of a carrot in his pile.

Alphonse stops the motion of the knife, understanding why Edward has a new doctor so soon. It is customary for the military to want things done quickly. The military psychologist weren't there to help the men. Just give reports and updates of their mental stability. What the military psychologist was looking for is if the officer could be active. They also have no experience with children, just adults.

"Do you know the name of your new psychologist?" He asks, while scooping the carrots into the slowly boiling pot of water that is in no danger of overflowing.

Edward shrugs again, trying to cut three carrots as once. "I heard they were not in the military."

Alphonse smiles, knowing that by hearing, Edward meant he had eavesdropped on the conversation.

He keeps in the surprise from Edward's statement. A civil psychologist - had Edward really gone through them all, or did someone make the same sudden insight as he did. Alphonse hopes it's the latter.

"Is there any difference between a military and non-military psychologist?" Edward casually throws three pieces of carrots at a time into the pot from where he stood. Alphonse feels one hit his nose when he leaned forward too much, trying to cut the celery.

"I would assume experience. The military is a different environment than the civilian." The cease firing of carrots stop, and Alphonse feels slightly reluctant to pass over more ammo.

"How so," Edward asks grabbing the vegetables for himself.

Alphonse isn't sure he could answer Edward's question. Mostly, he isn't sure if he wants to expand upon the definition of the military environment. The majority of mental breakdowns were during wartime, which didn't exist at the time being. Alphonse personally never experienced war. He had asked Roy a one time in the past, a few years after his adoptive father took him under his care. He had asked Roy, and he would rather not ask again.

"I'm just making assumptions," Alphonse says swiftly. In its midair flight, a piece of the celery Edward had just cut slaps his nose. "Can't you just go around me and dump them in the pot?" Alphonse gestures with this hand, showing the path Edward should take going around him.

Edward shrugs - a response Alphonse was expecting - and continues on with their conversation, "Why do you have to go see these people?" Edward dumps the knife into the sink and proceeds to go around Alphonse to dump the rest of the vegetables into the pot.

"Because you never cooperate with them, or that's what it sounds like you're saying." With the last of the celery cut, Alphonse dumps his portion into the pot. Soup of celery and carrots - their dinner is pitiful compare to what he usually cooks for himself. Yet, a full meal would require a full refrigerator of food. A few months after of meeting Juliet, Alphonse learned that the female could be absent-minded when the military work over takes her life. At the current moment, there are rumors circulating through the military about a rebel faction in the south. Rumors like this crop up all the time, so majority turn out to be false - in his experience and Roy's.

"What don't you like about the session?" Alphonse asks, adding salt to the boiling mixture.

"They ask question," Edward says gruffly.

Alphonse could hear a slight anger to his voice, and wonder how deep he should probe with questioning. Was Edward truly angry, or did he just not want people to know what bothers him?

"Questions?" Alphonse watches Edward from the corners of his vision. Edward leans back further, digging himself into the chair, ready to counter his tension with a lazed foot on the tabletop.

"They always start with the same thing," Edward softens his voice to imitate his former psychologist, "What do you want to talk about?"

'If that's how they start off, I can already see what goes wrong.' Alphonse quickly formulates the images in his head. Dr. Lowe sitting in that burgundy chair that belonged to both psychology offices - there were only two. (The psychologists had to share the same offices, in order to save room and money from the budget.) Edward is situated on the patients' sofa with his arms behind his head, and a lackadaisical appearance. Out of his mouth would be a 'smart-ass' (one of Edward's words) remark, and the psychologist would again try to gain ground they couldn't have.

Alphonse now had to question if a civilian psychologist would change anything.

"Can we talk about something else?" Edward asks, adding a sigh just so Alphonse could understand his apathy to their current topic. Deciding a topic on his own - of something relevant too - Edward asks, "Who taught you alchemy?"

"Roy." Alphonse watches Edward's eyebrows climb up to his forehead. He instantly recognizes the interest his friend's interest towards Roy. He did assume it involves the incident of mistaken identity. Though, after Edward's disappointment from the truth, he did have a continual interest in the man. It would be the same case with himself. 'Juliet did make the comment of Edward wanting to just hang around me often.' Alphonse had come to a reasoning (or guess) that it is because he holds familiarity for Edward.

If it is the same case for Roy, it might not be a bad thing. Edward couldn't label Roy Mustang with a mystery identity if he actually got to know him.

"Mustang taught you?"

Alphonse could clearly hear the question underneath the question. "Yeah - though he refused to teach me his specialty when I asked him back then."

Edward frowns at the new term, "specialty?"

"Alchemists tend to focus on one type of alchemy. In Roy's case, it would be atmospheric alchemy," Alphonse pauses, "and fire alchemy as well."

"What about yours?"

Edward leaning back in his chair has taken on an appearance of disinterest. Though with his head tilting forward to the conversation - his body ready to follow along - Edward's interest is apparent.

Alphonse did find Edward's sudden interest to be odd, as well as his response upon questioning. "I don't have a specialty. I am technically not a state alchemist in the military. They wouldn't have even let me be in the military if Roy didn't persuade them."

"He didn't teach you a specialties?"

Alphonse smiles to himself inside. Edward had ignored the rest of his sentence. He knew what it was like, blocking everything out except the important stuff. Roy had laughed at him the first time Alphonse had done that - maybe on his own similar experience when he was younger. "No one teaches someone else their specialty, it's our own interest in that alchemy that spurs us to continue on with it."

"So you don't have one because…" Edward leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for Alphonse to fill the rest.

"Because I don't, I'm busy with work."

"And Mustang?"

Something Alphonse couldn't answer. "I don't know. I never asked," a lie to cover his awkward feelings toward the question. Roy had said, "it made me useful."
Alphonse didn't understand, and felt (still feels) that he didn't really want to know. He has to remember - Alphonse tells himself - "while the military gave him and input resources to bring down those laboratories and Alpha, they do have their own agendas and their military logic." Roy had looked across from in the man's living room. Alphonse whole world had no choice but to give in to the man's wanted attention. "Remember that, take it as an advice from an old friend of mine."

Alphonse looks across the room, and find Edward instead. He is leaning back against the chair, its front legs coming off from the tile floors of the kitchen. He had expected to find Roy when he looked up. His foster father had scared him then at that time.

"Would he be willing to teach me if I ask."

"Maybe." Alphonse answers, trying to detach himself from a memory.

"The pots foaming." Edward tilts his head to see behind Alphonse.

Indeed, it is. Alphonse snaps to reality, panicking to remove their vegetable soup from the stove.

Thank you to all the reviewers and readers. Thank you to merichuel for reminding me of this stories existence. Thank you to those who despise/hate/are creeped out by Davis, because my OC is doing his job. Now don't forget to point out my grammar mistakes! (Because I'm usually great at non-intentional sentence fragments and awkward sentences.)