Chapter five

"Okay, just what the hell is going on here?" Ed asked, looking over at Greg as he dutifully ate his bowl of wok. It was great, really, which kind of annoyed Ed, as he was sitting there, bald, eating as if he hadn't eaten for weeks, not just under thirty-six hours.

"Well, Major, let's just say it like this: me and my friends are great fans of what General Mustang is trying to do in Ishbal." Greg looked at Ed's quickly emptying bowl and went to get the pan and fill the bowl again. Ed kept eating as the man filled up his bowl. It was delicious and Ed was starving. "Don't call me "Major", it's just Ed."

"Ed it is." The man sat down in his chair on the other side of the small kitchen table. "I'd rather go into details with the rest of the team present, if that's okay with you. I'm going to go take a shower and then I'll see if I've got something else for you to wear."

"Sure."

Ed was dying to get some answers soon, and he couldn't help but trust Greg. He had the same eye colour as Mom. They spoke of some of the same kind qualities that she had. And so Ed ate, drank some orange juice, ate and drank some more, finally feeling like his stomach was full. He burped slightly.

Once again Ed ran his hands over his bald head. He hated it. His hair had been a part of him for his whole life. It was a part of his identity. Of his image. Not having his fringe slightly limit his view made him kind of paranoid. Besides, he could still remember having Mom ruffling his hair when he was small. And now also the General. And Al had continuously run his fingers through Ed's hair as he lay in the hospital, amazed at actually being able to feel it. Al had joked about wondering what his hair had felt like ever since he decided to grow it out. Al's own hair had been so thin and unhealthy that it didn't compare according to him, so Al had spent a few hours the first days, laughing as he patted Ed's hair and finger brushed it. Ed knew it seemed weird to most people, but Al hadn't been able to feel anything for five years, and, although Ed would furiously deny it and hit people if they suggested it, Ed was actually careful about using shampoo and conditioner in order to keep his hair as soft and healthy as he had. He had done that just to make sure that Al would be able to feel it once he got his body back. It almost felt like he had lost a beloved pet now. A pet that required daily grooming and that lived on his head, keeping him warm when it was cold. And he missed his antenna. It had made him even taller than he was, because he hadn't been sma – not that tall. It was just an unusually tall world and people were freaks.

And now his hair had been used to do that to the General. To Alphonse. They had stolen his hair in order to fake him being dead. Ed hated it, he really did. Why couldn't they just have used some fake hair?

Because you've got genes from a dead civilisation and nobody has that colour anymore.

"DAMMIT!" Ed hit the table with his right fist. He'd hit it a bit harder than he'd been planning to and bit his lip. He still wasn't used to not having the automail.

He was going to have to leave everything behind him. He was finally allowed to be himself after the Promised Day and now this stupid crap was happening. And it left him fucking bald.

Ed hadn't even seen himself in the mirror, he didn't dare. How the hell must he look right now? He was a bald sixteen-year-old.

Ed banged his head repeatedly against the table, making the cutlery clink with each impact.

I'm bald. I'm fucking bald. Those bastards made me bald. Bald.

"Damn those people! They used my hair to make a fucking doll! They used it to break my brother's heart! TO HELL WITH IT!" Ed shoved the bowl to the floor, making it break. "WHY THE HECK DO I DESERVE THIS?! WHY DOES MUSTANG AND AL AND WINRY AND GRANNY?! WHY CAN'T LIFE JUST BE ON MY SIDE FOR ONCE?! JUST ONE FUCKING TIME?! WHERE THE HELL IS MY EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE?!"

Ed sent the chair flying against the wall before he slammed his hands against the table. "I thought you were done with me, Truth, or God or whatever you call yourself! If this is my punishment for Al, then fine, but what about them? What the hell did they do to deserve this?! Where's the Equivalent Exchange?!" Ed growled quietly.

He felt tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Haven't I given enough?

Ed wiped his tears away quickly as he heard Greg walk out of the bathroom. He had forgotten about not being alone here. Just how much had he heard?

The man took one look at the room and shrugged. "Only helps the cover. Well, I guess it's time to meet the rest of the gang." He threw a him a blue hoodie and a pair of jeans. "I guess these will have to do. You can use the hood to cover your head."

Ed took the clothes under his arm and walked past Greg, now fully dressed in his uniform. "Sorry," Ed said quietly.

"Listen, Ed, it's okay, I get you. This isn't easy for you, nobody would think so. If you want to take a shower, you start it by turning the left knob upwards and hot water's downwards on the right one. Sorry about the shabbiness, but I swear I keep it clean here. I've got this way to make this place look like a mess within forty seconds."

"Oh, right, thanks." Ed looked up at him. "Do you deal with stuff like this often?"

"Nope. But trust me, that couch is comfy as hell."

"Right." Ed went past him and into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and sighed. Then he saw his reflection in the mirror. It didn't look like him without his hair. Ed pulled off his bloody, dusty, sweaty clothes and sat himself down in the tub before he pulled his knees up to his chest and hid his face in them.

He was actually dead. As far as everyone he loved knew, he was dead. And he didn't even know how long it would be before he could stop this. He had never felt this alone in his life. He'd been a fugitive just half a year ago, but this was worse. This time he had helped cause those he loved pain. He had placed Mustang in his bed so that he could find that head thing.

And Al. Ed really hoped that the General would take care of him. Those two were going to drown if they didn't help each other.

Ed felt tears in his eyes again. He'd cried more now than he'd done for a decade. He felt so small and weak right now. He was losing everything that he'd finally gained.

And honestly, when they found out, would they ever forgive him?

The walk through East City didn't last long. Greg was chatty as hell, but it was at least nicer than being stuck in the car with Fredricks. They turned down a narrow gap between two houses so that they had to walk sideways. Ed was beginning to wonder if the man was pulling Ed's leg when he suddenly pushed a door open halfway through and went inside the house to the right.

Ed followed him down a set of stone steps. They were in some sort of stone passage lit by a few lightbulbs.

"Nearly there, Ed."

Ed followed him until they came to a steel door that Greg opened for them and gestured for Ed to walk ahead. They entered a clean, brightly lit room lined with bookshelves of folders, the walls were plastered with pictures of officers and in the middle of the room were a group of four people looking curiously up at him from where they sat at a large table. The four people jumped to their feet, pulling out their guns. The nearest, a rather small man with a lot of muscle, began shouting at him. "SHOW ME YOUR HANDS AND LOWER YOUR HOOD!"

"Hey, Ezra, take it easy! You're pointing your gun at Edward Elric!" Greg said.

Ezra's eyes widened and he put down his gun and saluted. "Major Elric! It's an honour!" His eyes were closed and he looked deadly serious. His brown skin was instantly covered in sweat. "I'm dreadfully sorry for pointing my gun at such a celebrated officer as yourself, sir!"

"It's just Ed and stop saluting, I don't need it," Ed said, feeling uncomfortable. The remaining three people, two men and a woman, were all saluting him too.

Greg closed the heavy door. "Fredricks came and delivered him at my place this morning. Those bastards faked his death by cutting off his hair, so Angela, find that undercover set of yours."

The woman stood up. Ed liked Greg's prioritising. Soon the Angela woman placed a large box in front of him, smiling kindly. "Pick whatever you like," she said as she pulled open the lid.

Ed began rummaging through the box and after about a minute, he found a wig that he guessed he could live with. It seemed to combine both him, Al and Mustang and would work as a way to remind him what he was fighting for. The hair was the same shape as Al's, but black like Mustang's. And it had an antenna for Ed.

"You like that one? Here, I'll help you," Angela said. She seemed very motherly, although she was still in her early twenties. She placed the wig carefully on his head and then handed him a mirror from inside the box. It looked odd, but it was a damn sight better than the baldness and made him relax a bit more.

Greg put his hand on Ed's shoulder and led him to the table. "Okay, Ed, tell us everything you can."