AN To answer the question about automail—in this setting, there is neither automail nor alchemy. Think 1910-15 or so in the US. For clarity purposes, I stuck with the place names from the show. However, this DOES present a problem for Ed. Prosthetics weren't very advanced back then. I am using what I read in a book from that time to cover that, but it will be a while before I really get there. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

PS—I am going to lengthen the chapters from here out.

Chapter 3

Ed had never been on a train before. He enjoyed the scenery flowing by the window. Al would have loved this, he thought with a pang of longing. The pair across from Ed seemed content to let him enjoy the ride in silence. Occasionally, Mustang would roll his eyes at the boy.

The trio took dinner in the dining car. Ed felt a little awkward looking around the room. The car was filled with people who wouldn't normally acknowledge the existence of someone like him. Mustang and Hawkeye drew quite a few smiles and nods. It was obvious that the more affluent citizens respected the military. Ed couldn't hold back a snort as he noticed the coy glances Mustang received from a couple of girls at a nearby table. "You have fans," Hawkeye commented softly.

"It's not like I encourage them," Mustang snapped.

"How long until we reach Central?" Ed asked nervously.

"We aren't going directly to Central. There is a stop we need to make at a mining town before we report back," the colonel explained dismissively. "You can stay at the hotel while we take care of things."

The answer wasn't good enough for the curious young man. "What do you have to do?"

Mustang glared at Ed. "We have to check up on a military official in the area. It's really none of your business. Besides, you have reading to do while we are away."

Ed winced. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about the old man's journal."

If anyone was expecting more conversation at the table, they would have been sorely disappointed. Ed picked at the food on his plate. He already missed Rose's cooking, and the company didn't make the meal anymore appetizing.

He stole glances up at Roy Mustang. He wondered if the man ever smiled. Probably not. The stick the military had shoved up his ass must make that impossible. Though he had known Ed's father, he didn't look that old. Ed would have guessed Mustang to be in his late twenties. The man seemed older than he looked. He also seemed to be enjoying pulling Ed's strings. Biting back a bitter sigh, Ed focused on his plate again. Mustang wasn't going to make his life easy. He hoped this Hughes guy wasn't as moody as Mustang was….though he doubted that was possible.

It was just after dark when the train pulled into the "station" In truth, there was little more than a wooden platform waiting for them. Ed looked around him at the dusty and dirty looking little town. There was only one dirt street lined with a couple businesses and some homes. In the distance, Ed could see the entrances to the mines. The air had a smell to it that he couldn't quite place.

Mustang moved to pick up Ed's bag, but the younger man snatched it from his grasp. "I can get it!"

"Suit yourself." Mustang's calm never wavered.

A car appeared by the platform not seconds after they arrived. The flags on the hood ornament were waving in the air, and the man who stepped out could best described as pompos. Grudgingly, Ed had to admit that he didn't wear the uniform quite as well as Mustang did. The officers exchanged salutes, and Ed was largely ignored.

Finally, Mustang gestured to Ed. "We can conclude business after we take this one to the inn."

The nameless official took one look at Ed, and sniffed indignantly. "He will be fine in the inn."

Mustang's eyes turned stone cold. "You mean to insinuate that there is something wrong with the place."

"Oh, nothing at all," the officer assured him too quickly. "The locals have a bad attitude about the military. They don't see that they couldn't survive without our generosity."

"Generosity?" Hawkeye repeated with only the slightest raise of her brow.

Swallowing hard, the official gestured to the car. "Shall we?"

Ed didn't pay any attention to what was being said about the town. Like Mustang had told him: it really wasn't his business. What did catch Ed's eye was the rampant poverty that was so obvious in the streets. The children running and playing in the dirt were barefoot and wore clothes that had obviously seen better days. Even the orphans had better clothing than that. So this was why Hawkeye had been so sarcastic, Ed thought. The adults watching the car passing didn't even bother to hide the hatred in their eyes. This was not a very happy place.

The car stopped in font of a decaying building. Music and laughter spilled out of the saloon doors. As Mustang stepped out of the car, he reached down to help Ed. Ed quickly slapped his hand away. Did he really think Ed was THAT helpless?

"Stay here," Roy commanded to the official.

All reverie stopped as the trio walked through the door. Men who had been joyous only a second before now looked as if they were ready to fight for their lives. No one made a sound.

"Who owns this establishment?" Mustang demanded.

A burly man stepped forward. "I do."

Mustang nodded an ever so slight greeting. "We will be needing three rooms."

"There aren't any available," the owner replied tersely. He was nervous, but he was ready to stand his ground.

"I will only say it once more: We will be needing three rooms." Roy pulled out his billfold, and handed the man more than enough for a weeks board.

The man only laughed. "You think that means something to us? We won't see a penny of that money."

"Oh, it will all stay in your keeping, I assure you," Mustang countered.

He knew when he was beaten, and the owner gestured to the rooms above. "We only have two rooms to rent."

"Thank you," Roy said. "The boy will be staying here while I attend to business with the Governor. He will take his meals in his room. If anyone bothers him, I will not be happy."

Ed squirmed uncomfortably. It was like every eye was on him….and they didn't seem any friendlier to him than they did to the military. Ed followed the owner to the staircase.

The man turned to him eyeing him carefully. "Can you make it up alright?'

Ed nodded, and steadied himself with the banister. Stairs could be tricky, but he could manage just fine. He was about to take his first step when strong arms hauled him up like a child. "HEY!" he cried.

Mustang snorted. "I don't have all night. The sooner you get situated the sooner we can leave."

"I can walk up stairs on my own!" Ed protested.

"And I'm sure you can practice all you want at Major Hughes' home. Be quiet, Ed." Roy's tone brooked no arguments.

Ed hated being carried in front of all of these people. He felt humiliated and weak. His cheeks stung with embarrassment. Hadn't he gotten past this already? Ed hang on for all he was worth. There was the fear that Mustang might drop him, but then Ed felt Roy's grip tighten. "You're fine, Ed," Roy whispered. Nodding, Ed relaxed a bit. He couldn't help, but notice the scent of Roy's cologne. When he was again standing on his own, Ed felt only marginally better about the experience.

"I would have made it up on my own," Ed told him defiantly, no one seemed to hear him.

The owner showed them the rooms, and Hawkeye took the small of the two. Though it was the most logical solution to the room problem, Ed was a bit disappointed to be rooming with the colonel. Tossing his bag on the bed, Ed examined the neat but humble room. There was a tiny desk by the window and a dresser with a basin, and not much else.

"How long are we staying here?" Ed asked as he flopped down on the bed.

Mustang grunted. "Not long. Two or three days at the most."

Ed watched as Mustang took off his coat and straightened his appearance in the mirror. It wasn't as if he were vain; he seemed more intent on neatness than anything else. From the corner of his eye, he caught Ed staring.

"How old are you?"

"Does it matter?" Mustang asked gruffly.

Ed shrugged. "Just wondering."

"Thirty-two."

Ed couldn't keep his surprise from showing. "You're old."

Roy smirked. "Only when compared to children."

I guess, I deserved that one, Ed thought grimly. "You don't look that old."

The colonel didn't say a word. He pulled a worn, leather-bound book from his bag, and tossed it toward Ed. "Read while I'm gone. We shouldn't be too long."

Ed didn't want to touch the thing. He didn't want to know why his father had left them. Did it matter? Ed's mother had died still proclaiming her love for him. Trisha Elric may have been able to forgive, but Ed sure as hell couldn't. It wasn't in him to just forget all of the nights he had heard his mother crying down the hall, or the emptiness he'd felt when he'd been shipped to the orphanage with his brother. He'd always been strong for everyone around him, because he had no choice. Who would tell Al not to be afraid at night if he didn't? Who would make mom smile if he didn't? Ed was just a child. It shouldn't have been that way, and he would always hate his father for that. "I'll read it," Ed said softly.

Mustang nodded and left Ed to his reading.

It took nearly an hour for Ed to pick the book up. He pulled three letters from the front cover. The first was labeled "To Edward and Alphonse." Ed took a deep breath and opened it.

To my sons,

I hope that this letter finds you well. It had always been my dream that I might return to you and you mother to watch you grow. If you are reading this, then I am sorry that I was not able to be there for you. There are many things that I regret in this life, and leaving you is highest among them. You both deserved so much more from me. I hope you will come to see why I made the decisions that I did. I heard of your mother's passing only a few months ago. The world is a sadder place without Trisha, and I am sure that you miss her terribly. I do not know where you have been taken. Perhaps it is best that way. If I were to come to you now, you must understand that it would not be safe for you. There is too much at stake at this time to take chances. Even in writing this, I am playing with fire. I will leave these letters in the care of a good man. He will find you if I am not able to, and he will take care of you. I love you both more than you will ever know.

Your Father

Ed let the letter fall to the floor as he wiped at his eyes. It was so stupid for him to cry. The old man could regret all he wanted. That didn't change anything. Lousy letters didn't make up for years of not being there. They didn't make it alright that his mother had died alone. And Al…

It was near midnight when Roy crept through the door. Ed cracked his eyes just enough to see the colonel standing in the doorway staring at him. He looked tired, but those shoulders were as straight as ever. "Stubborn brat," Roy muttered.

Ed shut his eyes tight as Mustang entered the room. He could hear clothes being shed, and then he felt the mattress give just a bit as Mustang lay down beside him. Releasing a breath, Ed let sleep take him.

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