Author's Note: Is this fic actually funny? I honestly can't tell anymore; I've been staring at it too long. It's a lot harder for me to come up with intentionally funny ideas and see them through than it is for angsty ones, so I guess this was a good challenge, whether or not anyone gets a laugh out of it. So it's not a waste either way!

A big shout-out to my honorary little bro Luke, who planted the seed of inspiration for this story. We were playing a game where you ask loaded questions of random characters. The one that serves as the backbone of this story was one that he came up with, and the character was Edward Elric. From the answer to that question, this story took form. Hopefully it's at least a little diverting!

P.S. Just to be clear: This fic would not be possible in either version's timeline, because Mustang and his team don't get transferred to Central until after Hughes's death. But I needed all the characters to be together, so...I'm saying they're all in Central! You can either pretend they've been temporarily placed there for some kind of long-running mission or something, or just do what I did, and accept the discontinuity because this thing is only a hair's-breadth away from being a crackfic :P

Colonel Roy Mustang took his seat behind his desk and surveyed his small office, somewhat crowded with his five subordinates and Maes Hughes. "I'm sure you're all curious as to the purpose of this informal meeting," he began, "and I would like to impress upon you once again that everything said in this room must be held in strictest confidence."

Solemn nods on all sides.

"Well, boss," Havoc drawled, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the heavy mood settling over the room, "when you voluntarily stay behind after hours, that sure catches our attention, sir."

Roy gave him a flat look, but Havoc only grinned back, knowing there was no heat behind it. Choosing to ignore the impertinent remark, Roy rested his elbows on his desk and looked over his steepled fingers at his subordinates. "Ladies and gentleman, we have a problem. A very small and annoying problem. A problem I'm hoping we can brainstorm a solution to."

Hawkeye sighed, her usual mask of calm cracked by an exasperated frown. "Sir, if you're referring to Edward—"

"Of course I'm referring to Edward!" Roy cried, crossing his arms in irritation. "Have none of you looked at the calendar lately? October 3rd is next week! We must be prepared this year."

"October 3rd?" Fury asked, frowning in confusion.

Before Roy could explain, Falman raised a finger. "Edward and Alphonse Elric left their hometown on October 3rd, 1911," he said, as if reciting a passage from a history textbook. "Reportedly, that same night their house burned to the ground; arson is suspected. I believe October 3rd was also the date that Colonel Mustang visited the Elric brothers and talked Edward into becoming a State Alchemist, the year before." He looked inquiringly up at Roy to confirm his statement.

Roy nodded grimly. "October 3rd is also the one day every year that Full Metal can be counted on to mope around, gripe about everything, and generally feel sorry for himself. But this year is going to be different. We are going to see to it that Full Metal has no chance to dwell on the mistakes of his past or the uncertainties of the future. Now, who has an idea?"

He was a little annoyed to see Hughes grinning at him and a couple of the others sharing knowing glances. He knew exactly what they were thinking: that he'd gone soft, that his plan was motivated by sympathy for Ed and a desire to help him feel better. But that had nothing to do with it at all!

Of course he didn't care about his teenage subordinate dwelling on traumatic memories of the day he'd tried to bring his dead mother back to life and ended up losing two limbs and his brother's body. What did Roy Mustang care about two boys' resolve to achieve the impossible and live a normal life again? It didn't mean anything that he'd personally convinced them to seek those goals in the first place. He was just concerned about the dip in productivity that accompanied this date every year.

Yes. Of course that was it.

"I might have an idea," Hughes said after a few moments' thought.

Roy looked at him warily. "This wouldn't have anything to do with photographs, would it?"

"Nope!" Hughes said, a grin spreading across his face. "I've got something even better."

Intrigued, Roy laced his fingers together and crossed his legs. "And what might that be?"

The grin took on a slightly evil cast as Hughes pushed his glasses farther up his nose, the lenses glinting in the light. "A little something I'd like to call...'gaslighting.'"

"What?" Al cried, his voice echoing around his helmet.

"Shhh!" Maes hissed, putting a finger to his lips and looking around carefully. "Don't you know you're supposed to be quiet in the library?"

Sure enough, several patrons of the Central Library were peering in their direction with disapproving frowns. A librarian reshelving books across the aisle from the table where they sat looked like she had half a mind to come over and reprimand them.

Al dutifully lowered his voice to a loud whisper, leaning over the open book in front of him. "You're asking me to lie to my brother?"

Maes had to hand it to Al. It was pretty impressive how clearly Al could convey a look of betrayal and horror, when his face consisted of a rigid, expressionless helmet. "Don't think of it as a lie," Maes said smoothly, keeping his voice to a soothing whisper. "It's more of a...joke. One that's going to help him. A therapeutic joke!"

Al's glowing red eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't think Brother's going to see it that way. Besides, I'm not that good at lying."

Maes raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You can't tell me that helmet doesn't give you a perfect poker face."

"Not to Brother!" Al protested, his voice raising enough to earn another glare from the librarian. "He knows me better than anyone,Lieutenant Colonel! He'd know right away that I'm lying—and I still don't see why I have to be part of your big prank anyway," he added petulantly, crossing his arms.

Maes could see that it was time to bring out the big guns. He leaned forward, looking Al straight in the glowing eyes. "Because we need you," he said in a low, earnest voice, "and because your brother needs this. You know how he is this time of year. You know better than anybody. 'One more year passed without getting us any closer to our goal. It's all my fault, and I can't even make things right.' That's probably what he's thinking every October, isn't it? Do you really want him to just sit wallowing in all that self-blame and guilt? Don't you think it would be better, just once, to give him something else to think about? Don't you want to show him that kind of mercy?"

Al looked down at the book open on the table in front of him, but not as if he were reading it. He seemed to be thinking hard about what Maes had said. Maes wasn't quite as good of a chess player as Roy or Breda, but he could tell when he needed to be silent and wait.

At last, Al looked up. Once again, Maes was impressed by the subtlety of emotion Al was able to convey without a single change of expression. Judging from the body language, Maes thought he looked resigned but determined.

"Okay," he said quietly. "You're right. I'll do it."

"Do what?"

Maes and Al both whipped around to find Ed standing at the foot of their table, carrying a paper bag that he reached into, bringing out a jam-filled pastry that he began munching on. Ed had gone to grab something for lunch, leaving Al behind to continue their research. Maes had jumped on the chance to get Al alone, but it seemed he'd taken a little too long. How much had Ed heard of their conversation? Was the cat out of the bag already?

"Um!" Al squeaked. "I was saying that I'll...that I'll tell you..."

"...that you're invited to my house for dinner tomorrow!" Maes jumped in, desperately trying to salvage the plan before Ed got suspicious. He sure hoped Al would be up to the task...

Ed, who had been rummaging in the bag, didn't seem to notice Al's suspicious behavior. He emerged with a sausage roll and grinned at Maes. "Sure! Thanks, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes!"

Maes grinned, relieved that the danger seemed to have passed, but just then the librarian stomped over to them. "I'm assuming that since you're in a library you can read!" she hissed, sounding like a pot boiling over on the stove. She jabbed one long-nailed finger at a sign posted at the front desk that clearly said No food or drinks. "And for heaven's sake," she continued in the loudest whisper Maes had ever heard, "keep your voices down!"

"Brother, why did you erase your memories?"

Ed froze, poised over the sink with a mouthful of toothpaste, about to spit. He straightened a little, enough to look in the mirror at his brother's reflection. Al stood, slightly stooped, in the doorway of their dorm room's tiny bathroom, his face as impassive as it always was.

The annoying thing about having a brother made entirely out of metal was that it necessarily made all of his jokes deadpan. Still, Ed could usually tell when Al was pulling his leg. After three years of this, Ed had become quite adept at noticing the tiny shifts of his body language and voice that gave him away.

Ed bent over the sink again and finally spat. He took his time rinsing out his mouth and then drying his face before turning with an unimpressed expression. "Nice try, Al, but you need to think up some better jokes. Havoc knows some pretty good ones; you should talk to him." He squeezed past Al in the doorway, heading over to the clothes he'd dropped at the foot of his bed (which Al had fussily picked up and folded neatly on a chair, as always).

"I'm not joking, Brother," Al said quietly.

His voice was so serious that, for a moment, Ed felt a pang of worry. But he quickly recovered with a scoff, pulling on his pants. "Come on, Al, I think I'd remember if I erased my memories."

"Um...no. You wouldn't, because you'd have erased them."

Sometimes, Al could be infuriatingly logical. "Oh, you know what I mean!" Ed snapped, sniffing at his shirt from yesterday and then pulling it over his head.

"It's okay, Brother," Al persisted. "I promise I won't be mad. I just want to understand why you did it."

"What are you talking about?" Ed growled, angrily braiding his hair with the ease of long practice. He was in a hurry, so it probably didn't look that great, but the main point was just to get it out of his face. "I didn't do anything! You were with me all day yesterday."

"Yeah," Al said soberly, handing over Ed's red coat. "Until you went off on your own and did that transmutation."

"What transmutation?" Ed snapped, growing increasingly frustrated. He grabbed his report with one hand, the last of the pastries from yesterday with his other hand, and hurried out the door, leaving Al to lock up as always.

"The transmutation to erase your memories!" Al hissed, clanking loudly as he hastened to catch up.

Ed waited until they were outside before he replied—partly because he wanted to make sure no one would overhear, partly because his mouth was full of stale bread and raspberry jam. Once they'd made it outside, he said, "Look, Al, I don't have time for this joke. Colonel Slavedriver's probably gonna make me rewrite this report if I'm late."

"But I thought you already handed it in," Al said, easily keeping pace with Ed's hurried strides.

"Huh?" Ed said absently, checking for traffic before crossing the street. "No, my report's due on October 3rd, remember, 'cause he had meetings yesterday..." Only when the words left his mouth did it click in his mind what the date was. The day that he and Al had—

"But it's October 4th," Al said, breaking into his thoughts. "You met with the colonel yesterday. I thought we were headed for the library again."

Ed came to a screeching halt and stared up at Al in consternation. "What? It's not the 4th! Yesterday was the 2nd! Look, I still have my report that I have to hand in!" He waved the page of notepaper Al had made him set out the night before, so he'd be ready when they had to go.

"Um...are you sure that's your report?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "Duh, of course I'm sure."

"Maybe...you should check?" Al looked nervous, clasping his hands and standing with his limbs close to his body, like he was trying to protect himself.

Frowning in confusion, Ed looked down at the report in his hands. "Yeah, look, see, it's my report on that fake stone in Pendle..." He trailed off, staring at the somewhat messy title scrawled across the top of the paper. Must-See Tourist Destinations in West City. It was his notes, encoded to look like a travelogue, of the research they'd been doing on a mysterious red mineral supposedly found in mines in western Amestris. Not the report he was supposed to hand over to Mustang on their last mission.

"What?" Ed cried, rushing back in the direction of their dorm. "What happened to my report? I put it on the desk last night!"

"You turned it in yesterday," Al halfheartedly protested, jogging after him.

"Why would I have done that?" Ed demanded. "It was due on October 3rd, which is today!"

"No, today is the 4th."

"Hate to break it to you, Al, but I remember looking at the calendar yesterday, and it was definitely the 2nd."

"Well, you erased your memories, Brother, so of course you don't remember yesterday..."

Ed screamed in frustration.

"Oh, hello, boys!" Hawkeye said with a pleasant smile, looking up from her paperwork. "What brings you here today?"

"I'm here to give my report," Ed growled, shoving his empty hands deep into his pockets. After tearing apart their dorm room—almost literally—Ed finally had to conclude that the report he distinctly remembered writing and setting down on his desk must have blown out the window or something when he wasn't looking. Even though it was October, a cold front had blown through Central in the last week, and they hadn't opened the window at all since they'd been back.

Hawkeye blinked in surprise. "Again?"

Ed ground his teeth. "Not you too!"

Al nudged him in the shoulder. "Brother, be polite!" he hissed. In a louder voice, he said with a sort of half-bow, "Good morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye. I'm sorry about my brother; he's just having a hard time with the...you know..."

"Oh, right," Breda said, shooting a meaningful look at the others. "We heard about that, didn't we, guys?"

Fury nodded, nervous eyes darting back and forth between Breda and Ed. Falman looked up from his work. "What?" Then he started slightly and said, just a little too loud, "Oh. Yes. The transmutation in which Edward erased his memories. Yes."

Ed frowned. Why was everyone acting so...weird?

But Havoc spoke up then, distracting him from his thoughts. "Yeah, Chief, so why'd you erase your memories anyway? Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to, just to erase one day. Was it girl trouble?"

Ed's face felt hot. "No, I didn't have 'girl trouble'! I don't have a girl, so how could I—" He cut himself off, shaking his head furiously. "That's beside the point! I didn't erase my memories! Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Havoc raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just a simple soldier repeating what I heard."

"Perhaps it would be best not to pry into other people's business," Hawkeye said delicately, tapping a stack of papers against her desk to make sure they were stacked neatly before sliding them into a large manila envelope. "I'm sure that Edward thought he had a good reason for doing it. That should be enough for us."

Ed glared around the room. Everyone was nodding and giving him sad, understanding looks—like he was some kid who'd thrown a tantrum after dropping his lollipop in the dirt, and they were pretending to understand why he was acting like it was the end of the world.

If there was one thing Ed hated more than anything else...well, okay, it was being called short. But the second thing he hated more than anything else was being treated like a child. He was fourteen! He hadn't been a child for ages! And they ought to remember that.

"This is stupid," he announced to the room at large. "I'm going to give my report to the colonel."

"B-But you've already given it to him!" Fury spluttered, rubbing his shin as if someone had kicked him under the desk.

"I'm giving him my oral report," Ed grumbled, reaching for the door to Mustang's private office.

"He's not there, Edward," Hawkeye said calmly.

Ed whirled around, seething. "What? But I've got an appointment! I'm only..." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Half an hour late! Mustang said he'd clear his morning 'cause he had a new mission to give us!"

Hawkeye looked at him with an expression of mild concern. "Yes...and he did. Yesterday."

"What?" Ed's heart picked up its pace, though he wasn't quite sure why. "No, my meeting was for 9:30 on October 3rd..."

"Yes." She pointed at the calendar on the wall. "And today is October 4th."

Ed stared at the big black number 4 on the daily calendar. Hawkeye was always so organized; she wouldn't make a mistake like pulling off two sheets instead of one. She always made sure that the clocks and calendars were accurate, so everyone could be on time... He looked around the room and found everyone watching him with varying amounts of concern.

Hawkeye actually got up from her desk and crossed over to him, reaching out a hand to feel his forehead. "Do you feel all right, Edward? Are you sure you're not running a fever?"

Normally, Ed probably would have swatted her hand away irritably. Instead, he just shook his head and backed away, a little unnerved. "I don't...think so." He felt the door at his back and reached for the doorknob again. "Uh...guess I'll just...wait for the colonel, then?"

Hawkeye nodded. "He might be a while, but you're welcome to wait."

"I'll come, too," Al offered, following Ed into the inner office.

Ed sat down on one of the couches in front of Mustang's desk, mind abuzz with disturbing thoughts.

When Roy stepped into the office, he found himself pinned to the spot by five intense stares. "What?" he asked, slowly closing the door behind himself. Then he noticed that the door to his inner office was closed, and behind the door was the murmur of two voices. He glanced at Hawkeye for confirmation. "Are they...?"

She nodded, so he took a deep breath and headed for the inner room, reminding himself of the story they'd cooked up the other day. Hawkeye looked like she wanted to say something, but she just pressed her lips into a thin line and kept quiet. Roy hesitated, hand on the doorknob, as he listened to the muffled voices in the other room.

"What do you mean, you don't know how I did it? We share all our notes."

"I told you, Brother, you said it was something you had to do alone. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen. You never do listen."

"Hey, that's no fair!"

Roy steeled his nerves and opened the door, doing his best to breeze in like he had no idea what they were talking about. "Full Metal," he said flatly, not having to feign how unexcited he was to see him in his office. "This has to be a new record. It didn't even take you 24 hours to rack up another bill?" He settled himself behind his desk. "So, what broke or exploded this time?"

"Huh? No, I'm here to give you my report!"

Roy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You gave me your report yesterday, Full Metal. I can't say I've got a burning desire to puzzle over your chicken scratches more than once per mission."

Ed ground his teeth, surging to his feet with both fists clenched. "Okay, what gives? Has everybody gone crazy today or what? I—have—not—given—you—my—report!" He enunciated the last sentence clearly, his voice ringing around the room.

Roy laced his fingers together, propping his elbows on his desk so he could hide his mouth. Thank goodness he'd had so much practice hiding his true thoughts as he pursued his political ambitions. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to keep a straight face otherwise. "Oh, but you have, Full Metal. Did you forget already? It was only yesterday."

Ed stomped his foot and gestured wordlessly, his face turning bright red as he seemed to struggle to find the right words to convey how frustrated he was. He looked for all the world like a toddler about to throw a tantrum. After a moment or two of spluttering helplessly, the best he was able to come up with was, "Oh yeah? Well...prove it!"

With a long-suffering sigh, Roy heaved himself to his feet and crossed over to the file cabinet in the corner. He opened the drawer labeled Elric (because yes, those boys generated enough paperwork to fill an entire drawer), then made a show of flipping through the files until he found the folder for this month. He pulled out a single piece of notebook paper, slightly crumpled with a mustard stain in one corner from where Ed had apparently set his sandwich down. No matter how many times he'd impressed on the boy the importance of reporting on his missions professionally, he was still a teenager whose attention was clearly drawn elsewhere.

"Here," he said, handing the paper over. "You see? My signature, dated October 3, 1913. Yesterday."

As he watched Ed poring over his report, holding it up to the light as if examining it for signs of forgery, Roy wondered if Hughes's plan was a little too elaborate. Roy had been ready to give up and think of something else once he'd realized how many details they would need to keep track of in order to keep the ruse convincing. But Hughes had doggedly come up with contingency plans for everything.

So Al had gotten Ed to set out his report the night before to have it ready, then swapped it with something else and taken the real report over to Hughes in the night while Ed was asleep. Hughes had handed it over to Roy this morning, so that he could have it on hand as proof that Ed had already turned it in. He'd even had the chance to read through the report and sign it—and he hadn't even had to lie about the date, since this was actually October 3rd.

Roy could almost see the gears turning in Ed's mind as he recognized his handwriting and a dozen other signs that clearly marked this as the original report. His brow scrunched up in consternation. "So I...I did hand it in already? Yesterday?"

"How else would you explain it?" Roy asked, snatching the report out of Ed's hands and returning it to the file cabinet. "Now, are you done wasting my time with pointless questions, or are you going to tell me why you did it?"

"Did...Did what?" Ed looked like he was trying to muster up his usual indignation, but was losing the battle.

"Why you erased your memories, of course." Roy sat down and shuffled through the papers on his desk, to help him keep a straight face. The boy was falling for it—hook, line, and sinker.

He was expecting another angry outburst, or maybe some inventive names tossed his way. Instead, Ed's shoulders slumped, like someone letting the air out of a balloon. He stared at Roy, then up at Al. "I...I guess I did, huh? I just...I don't remember it."

"Naturally," Roy said. "That did sound like it was the point."

That brought the usual scowl back to Ed's face. "I meant that I don't remember deciding to erase my memories, or any of the work I'd have had to do for it to work! Do you realize what a complex transmutation that would have to be?"

Roy leaned back in his chair and lazily examined his nails, watching Ed from his peripheral vision. "Strangely enough, I do realize that, being an accomplished State Alchemist myself."

Ed's profanity-laden retort caused Al to gasp and hiss reproachfully, "Brother!"

Unable to hide a small smirk, Roy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Full Metal. You didn't divulge any of your methods or reasons to me ahead of time, so if your brother doesn't know, I'm afraid I can't help you. It sounds like you really wanted to put something out of your mind."

Ed drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height and pointed dramatically at Roy. "I'm getting to the bottom of this!" he announced. "Just you wait and see!"

And then he stomped out of the office, Al scurrying after him with hasty bows and apologies to everyone. Roy's smirk widened as he watched them go, for once not minding that they hadn't closed the door after themselves.

Once they'd gone, everyone in the outer office turned to look at him again, questions written all over their faces. Hawkeye was the only one to get up from her desk, though. For a moment, Roy thought she was merely going to close his door like she often did after one of the Elric brothers' visits. Instead, she stepped inside the office, closed the door behind her, and approached his desk.

"Sir," she said in a low voice, "don't you think this is going a little too far?"

Roy waved her worries aside. "Nonsense. The ruse is working. He's actually starting to believe he did it."

Hawkeye's frown deepened. "That's what I'm worried about, sir. What is this going to do to his mental state when he finds out the truth?"

"It's a prank, Hawkeye. Nothing but a distraction."

"Are you sure he'll say the same?"

Roy turned to look out the window, though it was pointing to the west and offered no view of the route the brothers would take when they left. "He can hate me for this. I don't mind. But, Hawkeye...haven't you noticed? There's a fire in his eyes today. Maybe it is just because he's angry and confused. But when is the last time you've seen him this lively on October 3rd?"

He turned back to meet her gaze, and he saw her stern expression soften as her eyes drifted to the side, as if watching a memory play out. A memory from three years ago, when a crippled boy in a wheelchair decided to grasp the unattainable in his one remaining hand.

Roy was also thinking of other memories. Days when Ed trudged into the office, bedraggled and exhausted as though he'd been sitting out in the rain without even caring how cold and wet he'd become. Days when those fiery golden eyes had turned dull and flat, and that sharp tongue of his grew silent, and those small shoulders hunched over with the weight of the world.

"Maybe it's not ethical for us to do this," Roy murmured. "But I find that, with results like this...I don't care. It's worth it." He realized what he was saying, and hastily cleared his throat, swiveling back to look out the window again. "I mean, in terms of the team's efficiency and morale, of course."

"As you say, sir." He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in Hawkeye's voice.

"C'mon, Al, you're not helping!"

Al sighed and picked up his book again. "I'm trying, Brother, but I really don't know what you want me to do. I don't know how you did it."

"Yeah, well, you're almost as smart as me, so you can help me reverse-engineer the transmutation."

"'Almost as smart'?" Al protested.

Ed didn't seem to hear him, as he flipped almost frantically through the thick books strewn all over the library table, cross-referencing multiple texts at once. "I mean, you must've noticed what books I was checking out, or maybe you deduced what angle I was taking..."

"Remind me again why you want to reverse-engineer the transmutation?"

"'Cause it's driving me nuts!" Ed snapped, looking up with a glare. "How could I have figured out such a delicate and complex transmutation without remembering any of the work I put into it? How come I didn't tell you about it? And why did I do something as stupid as erasing the memories of only one day?"

"Maybe it was like a test run?" Al suggested.

"Yeah..." His gaze drifted away as he pondered that. "Yeah, maybe that's it..." Then he dove back into his research, apparently trying to read three books at once.

Not for the first time this day, Al wondered if he'd made a huge mistake, going along with this plan. True, it was much nicer to see Ed so lively and focused, instead of spending the day blaming himself for the mistakes that were only half his fault. But on the other hand...what was Ed going to say once he found out the truth? Wouldn't he be angry at all of them for lying to his face? Especially his own brother?

And there was a certain feverish desperation to Ed's movements that worried Al. He'd only ever seen him get this worked up before when they were close to a new lead on the Stone. And then when it fell through, he would fall into a greater despondency than before.

Maybe it would be a good thing if Ed was angry at them. At least then he wouldn't be blaming himself.

As Al half-heartedly went back to looking through his own reference books for something on how to alter memories, he acknowledged that this had been a much better October 3rd for himself as well. He'd been so busy staying on his toes, trying to keep Ed distracted from anything that would give away the secret, he hadn't had any time to brood either.

Al was actually beginning to get absorbed in a passage about electrical impulses in the brain when he heard a jovial voice call out, "Yo! Working up an appetite, boys?"

A librarian in the next row shushed them loudly. Hughes put a finger to his lips and winked at Al.

If Al had been able to breathe, he probably would have let out a huge sigh of relief. Hughes was here, so that meant... "Is it that time already?" he asked.

"Yep!" Hughes said, in a marginally quieter voice than before. "I brought my car around, so I can give you two a lift to my house."

"Thanks, Lieutenant Colonel!"

Ed had barely glanced up at Hughes's arrival, and still had his nose in a book as if he hadn't heard a word they'd said. "Come on, Ed," Hughes said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Gracia's making quiche, and we've got a chocolate cake in the icebox you need to help us finish so I don't get fat!"

"Not now, I'm busy," Ed said absently. It was the same response he'd given Al many times over the years, whenever Al would try to pry him away from his books.

"And disappoint my girls?" Hughes said with an exaggerated expression of shock. "Elysia wants to see her big brothers again! And I'd hate for Gracia's fine cooking to go to waste..."

"This is more important than food!" Ed snapped. Just then, his stomach betrayed him with a loud rumble. Slowly, he looked up at Hughes "Did you say...quiche?"

With a triumphant grin, Hughes snatched the book out of his grip. "With spinach and cheese!"

"Come on, Brother," Al said, getting to his feet and swiftly gathering up their books into neat stacks. "It'll do you good. You barely had anything for lunch."

"But...I gotta get to the bottom of this..." Ed protested feebly, but he was already getting to his feet.

"Who knows?" Hughes said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and drawing him away from the mountain of books. "Maybe taking a break from your studies will make all the answers clear to you!"

"What are you doing here?"

Roy rolled his eyes at Breda, turning from their conversation to face his rude little subordinate. "I'm having a drink," he said calmly, sipping at his glass of red wine. "What are you doing here?"

Ed crossed his arms and pouted, glaring around the room, where the entire team stood laughing and talking with one another. "Hughes didn't say he was inviting everyone. What is this, a dinner party?"

"The more the merrier," Gracia laughed, pausing as she passed them on her way to the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink, Ed?"

The boy's expression immediately lightened into a polite smile, making it clear that his sour mood was reserved only for Roy. Typical. "No thanks, Mrs. Hughes."

"Can I help with the food?" Al offered, clomping off to the kitchen behind Gracia. Ed's lips turned up in a soft smile as he watched them go.

Predictably, the smile disappeared the instant he turned and saw Roy watching him. "What?" he demanded.

Roy just smirked and took another sip of his drink, wandering over to where Hawkeye and Havoc were playing with Elysia in the living room. He ignored Ed's grumbling behind him.

In short time, they were all seated around the dining table. Once all the dishes had been passed around and everyone had started eating, Roy spoke up. "So, Full Metal," he said in a carrying voice that everyone could hear, "I have a question for you."

Ed froze, a forkful of quiche halfway to his mouth. He slammed his other fist onto the table, making everything on it rattle. "For the last time, I don't know why I erased my memories, okay?"

Roy raised his eyebrows. "I was going to ask what day it is."

Brow furrowed, Ed glanced around, noticing that everyone was looking his way. "What is this, a trick question? It's the 4th. Like you've all been telling me all day. I'm not stupid, you know."

"Then I have a follow-up question." Roy leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. "Why did you fall for our trick so easily?"

The look on Ed's face was priceless. Confusion gave way to understanding, then outrage. "Wait...you mean...it's not October 4th? Which means...I didn't erase my memories!" He directed that last statement at Al, jabbing an accusatory finger up at his face.

Al crumbled immediately, wringing his hands and looking as apologetic as a suit of armor could. "I'm sorry, Brother, I wanted to tell you, but they made me promise, and it was only for your own good—"

"You lied to your own brother and it was for my good?" Ed shrieked, his voice cracking.

Roy began to laugh. He couldn't help it. Ed looked so ridiculous, gesturing with his fork, his face growing redder by the minute.

Hughes started to laugh, then Gracia, then Havoc... One by one, everyone started to laugh, even Hawkeye. Last of all, Al let out a nervous little giggle.

"Traitor!" Ed yelled, his voice cracking even worse than before. "You're a traitor to your own flesh and blood, Al!"

"Come on, Brother," Al said, now overcome with giggles. "Aren't you glad you haven't lost a whole day that you'll never remember?"

Ed leapt to his feet. "I did lose a whole day! Researching a stupid transmutation that I never performed in the first place! And you were all in on it!" he yelled, pointing around the table at all the amused faces.

"Still," Hughes said, grinning unabashedly, "you've got to admit it was a pretty impressive prank, right? I mean, it worked on the smartest kid in the country! Pretty good diversion for a day if I do say so myself."

Ed's opened his mouth as if to keep yelling, hesitated as if he couldn't think of anything to say, then he plopped back into his seat. He stabbed his slice of quiche with his fork and stuffed half of it into his mouth. "You all sthuck!" he said thickly through a mouthful of food. "I offifially hate evvyone in vifth room!"

And even though he continued to glare around the table and mutter dark imprecations in between bites of food, Ed wasn't as angry as he looked. To an untrained eye, he might look like he would never forgive anyone who had been involved in this deception. But to someone like Roy, who had seen what a truly enraged Edward Elric looked like, it was obvious that this was all for show. In another hour or so, Gracia's excellent cooking and several interesting topics of conversation would calm him down.

Even more importantly, the depressed, hopeless Edward Elric of years past was nowhere to be seen this night. And for that reason, Roy Mustang considered this mission a success.