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Chapter 4

Roy stood in the doorway watching Ed sleeping. The boy wasn't at all what he had imagined him to be; he'd realized that the moment he saw him. Those large golden eyes of his spoke of intelligence and of willfulness. He was no downtrodden cripple. Edward appeared to have faced the challenges of his disability head on. For that, Roy respected him. Roy sighed, and crept across the room quietly.

It had been four years since Roy had seen Hoenhiem last. The spy and the colonel really hadn't known each other very well, despite what he had lead Ed to think. Hoemheim's work demanded absolute secrecy, and Roy never asked questions. When he did cross paths with Hoenheim, they spoke pleasantly enough. The spy often talked about his sons and wife. "Edward's tenth birthday is coming up," he would comment or, "Alphonse must be getting big by now." Four years ago, however, Hoenheim seemed different. He told Roy that he had only then come out of deep cover enough to hear that his wife had died years earlier. Sympathetic to the man's plight, Roy offered to find the boys for him, but Hoenheim declined.

"I have some theories, and it's best they stay wherever they are for now. But, if I may ask a favor?" Hoenhiem asked as he held out a leather bound journal. "Read it, if you'd like. There is nothing that could jeopardize anything classified. Should anything happen to me, I just want my sons to know that I love them. Also, I would ask that you see to my will. I know it is a lot to ask of someone that I hardly know, but I have no one else to go to. If there is something you would want for yourself..."

"I don't want anything," Roy said sternly. "I will do this out of gratitude for all you have done for our country."

Roy had almost forgotten his promise to Hoenheim when a scrap of paper appeared on his desk. "Hoenheim of Light is dead." There was nothing else written, and Roy couldn't figure out who had left it for him. In fact, he had almost dismissed the note when something else happened. He was leaving his office late one night, when he spotted a dark figure following not far behind him. Roy was no fool. He could tell that whomever it was following him wanted to be seen. Roy ducked into a darkened street corner, and fingered the pistol just beneath his coat.

"You received my message?" the figure asked.

Roy nodded. "How do I know that you're telling the truth?"

The figure took a half step into the light, and Roy could make out the haggard face of Marco. Like Hoenheim, Marco worked under the deepest cover only appearing every few years to report his findings and take a new assignment. The spy pulled a silver watch from his pocket. "Hoenheim gave me this. He told me to tell you that this was for Edward, but only when he is ready."

"I recognize it," Roy confirmed as he examined the intricate carvings on the faceplate. "How did he die?"

Marco tensed up visibly. "Too many theories and too many questions."

"Are you saying he was murdered?" Roy demanded.

"I'm saying you shouldn't ask...tell the boys not to ask." Marco stepped back, and walked away without another word, leaving Roy cursing to himself.

There was only one man Roy trusted, and he wasted no time appearing on Maes Hughes' doorstep that night. He pounded impatiently on the door without a care to the sleeping babe upstairs. A disheveled man of forty appeared at the door with a grim expression. "What's the idea Roy? Elycia needs her sleep after being cute all day."

Roy held up the watch. "I need advice, and it won't wait"

Maes' expression softened and he opened the door. He put on a pot of coffee, and took a seat. "This ought to be good," he murmured.

Roy glared at him. "This isn't a joke."

"No," Maes agreed. "With you, it never is."

It took over an hour for Roy to tell the whole tale. He let Maes read over the journal, and examine the clock. Neither of the men were gullible. Despite Maes campy persona, he was often more astute than even Roy. It was Maes' loyalty and decisiveness that Roy was banking on now. "What do you think?" Roy asked.

Maes leaned back in his chair. "This is all very odd. Unless there is some sort of code that I am missing here, he wasn't lying about this being fairly "safe" information in his journal. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was just another doting father away on a business trip. And I can't see anything special about the watch, either. I wonder why he asked you to wait to give it to Edward?"

Roy raked a hand through his hair. "How should I know? I don't think trying to get a peak at Hoenheim's assignments is possible either. What about the boys? Should we really be bringing them into this?'

"Even if I thought you should, Roy, it's not like you could just look up his home address." Maes pouted them each a cup of coffee. "This could be bad for your career."

Roy snorted. "Tell me about it."

"Let me see what I can find out. Who knows I may be able to poke around enough to find something. These boys at least have the right to know that he's dead."

Six months later, Roy Mustang was standing over Trisha Elric's grave. All that remained of Trisha and her sons' home was a burned out shell of beams. The locals couldn't seem to tell him much about her or her children. Apparently, they kept to themselves. After her death, the boys had been sent to an orphanage, but no one could recall where. Roy felt like he had hit a wall. Maybe it was the mystery, or maybe it was just that he felt it was the right thing to do, but Roy couldn't seem to give up on finding the Elric brothers.

Roy bent to pull a weed from the grave on a whim, and then something caught his eye. Beside Trisha's unkempt plot, a small hunk of wood stuck out from the ground. He picked up the broken bit of board, and read the name. Alphonse Elric. His stomach lurched against his will. So he had found one of the Elric brothers after all.

The doctor in town doubled as the coroner. Dr. Jonas was a thin man in his sixties, and didn't recall the name at first. "Elric...Elric.." he repeated thoughtfully. "Know anything else about them?"

Roy nodded. "Their home seemed to have been burned out at the edge of town."

A dark look crossed the doctor's features. "Elric. I remember now. Such a horrible tragedy! Are you a relative?"

"No," Roy replied. "I knew the boy's father."

Dr. Jonas sighed heavily. "The woman died almost eight years ago of a lung condition. I'm not really sure what it was because she would never let me have a good look at her. Wouldn't even admit she was sick until she was on her death bed. She kept those boys up at that house with her. I don't even think she sent them to school. After she died, the boys were sent off to an orphanage, but they ran away about six years ago. Alphonse and Edward ended up back at their old house. As far out as that place was, no one noticed they were living there. Well, the younger boy, Alphonse, spilled kerosene on himself and panicked. Set the whole place on fire. He burned to death while the older boy tried to put out the flames. Edward, the older one, would have died, but a farmer was out late that night looking for a missing calf that drifted off his lands and saw the smoke. The burns weren't near as bad as they could have been, but..."

"Did he die?" Roy asked fearing the answer.

"No, though some say he might as well have. A week or so after the fire, I caught gangrene in his wounds. I had to amputate his right arm and his left leg. The boy didn't seem to have much fight left in him after his brother died. When the old woman from the orphanage came to take him, I told her not to get her hopes up to high with him." Dr. Jonas riffled through a file folder. "Here. I have her name and the address of the orphanage if you want it."

That was how this little journey had begun for Roy. He still often wondered what Hoenheim's theories were. Maes would always warn him to think of how it would effect his career if he got caught being too nosy. Right now though, Roy's thoughts were more occupied with Hoenheim's son.

Edward was a stubborn brat. He didn't want to accept help from anyone. Maybe that was why Roy had been so determined to carry Ed up those stairs. He wanted to show the kid that he was in charge here. Riza had chided him on it in the car, but it didn't hurt to knock him down a peg or two, Roy thought. Besides, Ed hadn't backed off an inch. The petite blond had more backbone than most soldiers Roy knew. It was intriguing and annoying at the same time.

Roy laid back in bed, and closed his eyes. He had nearly drifted to a dreamless sleep when he heard Ed mumbling something. Ed kicked and squirmed beneath the blankets so much that Roy reached out and grabbed him. He was about to wake the boy up when he heard something that hit even his hardened heart. "Al, I'm not going to leave you...so sorry...my fault...please, stay with me...take care of you...promise," Edward muttered. He latched onto Roy. "I don't want to be alone, Al."

Instinctively, Roy wrapped an arm around the boy and let him curl against him. Edward Elric--a boy who's pride could rival any king's--was frightened. Like any child, he was starving for comfort, and this was the only way Roy could give it to him without embarrassing either of them. Roy was no nursemaid. He didn't intend to coddle the boy. Ed had a long road ahead of him, and for better or worse, Roy was on it with him. The least he could do was let the kid get a few hours sleep. When the sun first shone into the room, Roy's infallible internal clock told him that it was time to leave. He made sure Ed was covered, and silently crept out of the room.

Riza was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. "Sleep well?" she asked nonchallantly. Roy knew better.

"I'm not a pedophile," he snapped.

The woman was unfazed by her commanding officer's bluntness. She'd learned to deal with him years ago. Hawkeye nodded toward the two uniformed men standing near the doorway. "Ready for round two?"