"Hey Squirt, how ya doin'?" the achingly familiar voice says through the receiver. Maes grins, holding the phone unconsciously closer to his cheek.
"Shireen! You called! I miss you so much! How have you been, is it cold, I bet it's so cold, are you staying warm? Should I send you more blankets, Mom's putting together a care package," Maes gasps, pushing his glasses up his nose in his distress. "No! I wasn't supposed to tell you, it was supposed to be a surprise, I'm so sorry, Sissy-,"
Maes is interrupted by his older sister's laughter. "Don't worry about it kiddo. Yeah, it's cold, but everybody's always ready for it here, I promise I'm staying warm. And of course I called! It's not every day your favorite little brother turns nine!"
Maes feels himself blushing. "I just—I figured you'd be busy, you haven't been away too long, I would've understood if you for-,"
"Squirt, I'll never forget your birthday, that's a promise. One of the best days of my life." The offhanded, factual way that Shireen says it brings unwitting tears to Maes' eyes. Boy, he misses his sister.
"So, how have you been? Expecting any good presents this year?" Maes sprawls himself out on the bench in the hall and finds himself chatting with his sister far longer than he's sure she has time for.
"Hey, Maes," Shireen finally says sadly, "I'm gonna have to go soon, any chance Mom and Nijah are around so I can say hi?" Maes frowns.
"Sorry, Shireen, they've been out shopping, they're not back yet. But…umm…"Maes begins awkwardly, "Well, Dad is here, if-,"
"Nope." Shireen says firmly, and Maes sighs.
"Are you guys ever going to talk again? This is just getting painful to watch."
"I'll talk to him again once that asshole apologizes for real and admits what he did was completely messed up and wrong." Maes grimaces.
"Isn't Dad technically your boss now? Are you even allowed to say things like that anymore?" Shireen laughs.
"My disdain of the Fuhrer has rather endeared me to General Armstrong. I wish I wasn't so far away from you guys, but Briggs was a good choice for me, all things considered. He can't touch me here."
Maes sighs again. "Well, we all love you and miss you a whole lot. Even Dad." Maes hears Shireen sigh exasperatedly. "It's not the same without you around."
Shireen snorts. "Oh, c'mon, all I ever did was make snarky comments and sit in the corner reading books. You can get on without me just fine."
The description makes Maes sad. Because his oldest sister has always been such a calming, quiet presence in the house. Funny, but not unkind, always willing to help. The person Maes always went to first when he had bad dreams or needed to talk about thoughts and feelings nobody else in the house would immediately understand. A well of knowledge and honestly and love. His sister is so much more than a bookworm in the corner.
He wishes she could see it. Wishes she could understand how deeply their whole family misses her.
Even Dad.
Especially Dad.
Instead Maes says, "No, I can't. You write me and I'll write you. I love you!"
"I love you more."
"I love you most!"
"I love you more than most."
"I love you-,"
"Just let me win this one, Squirt." Maes smiles. "Bye, little brother. Happy Birthday."
"Bye Sissy."
Maes hangs up the phone and slowly pulls himself up from the bench, readjusting the fancy pillows he squished before he trudges to the kitchen.
Maybe chocolate milk will make him happy. Cook will let him have it, it's his birthday after all.
But Maes doesn't make it to the kitchen. Instead he runs, quite literally, into his father as he turns the corner.
"Whoa! Hey buddy," Dad says, grabbing his shoulders to keep them both from falling, grin on his face fading as he notices Maes' frown. "What's wrong? Nobody should look that sad on their birthday, it's simply not allowed."
Maes shrugs, and Dad frowns, putting an arm around Maes' shoulders.
"What's wrong?" Dad asks, leading them to the living room and settling them both on the couch.
"I miss Shireen," Maes finally admits, and Dad bites his lip, eyes narrowed.
"Was that who you were on the phone with?" Maes nods.
"Didn't want to talk to me?" Maes nods again, and Dad sighs heavily, looking up at the ceiling.
"Will you guys ever make up? I mean, you've had fights before, but this is just ridiculous. Can't you just apologize-,"
"I have apologized Maes," Dad says heavily. Maes rolls his eyes.
"Well obviously you didn't mean it. She says she'll talk to you again if you 'apologize for real' and 'admit what you did was completely messed up and wrong.'" Maes says, adding the quotes with his fingers. He decides it's probably in everyone's best interests to leave "asshole" out of the conversation.
"I did mean it."
Maes shakes his head. "You know her. You know how smart she is. She can read us all like books, and she can sniff out liars like a bloodhound. You didn't mean it. What did you even do, Dad?" Because since the explosive fight six weeks ago that had woken Maes up in the middle of the night, the fight the servants still gossip about, the one that ended with an ancient Xingese vase gifted to them by the Emperor himself in pieces on ground and Mom of all people in tears, the fight between Dad and Shireen featuring wonderful highlights like Shireen calling Dad "a fucking murderer who used them in his warped penance" and Dad calling Shireen "an idiotic, spoiled, delusional little girl who's forgotten how cruel the world can be"; well, nothing has been the same.
And nobody will even tell Maes what started it.
But it ended with Shireen storming out of the house and sleeping over at Elysia's apartment before shipping out to Briggs the next morning.
She didn't even say goodbye in person, just left letters at Elysia's for Mom and Nijah and Maes.
None for Dad.
Dad takes a shuddering breath.
"I tried to do something stupid and mean. It almost worked." Dad grits his teeth. "I am sorry that I hurt her feelings. But she's right. I don't regret doing it. I really, really wish it worked."
It's not an answer.
But Maes is pretty sure, for now, it's the best he's going to get.
000
The rest of the day is nice, all things considered. Cook bakes him one of the biggest chocolate cakes he's ever seen; Aunt Gracia and her husband Stephen join them for dinner; they give him a new sweater. Al and May send him some new books on alkahestry; Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Jean send him a BB gun, which Maes sees his mother smirk at with a fond glint in her eye; the Ed Elric clan send him two sets of boxing gloves, with instructions from Uncle Ed to "give the punk ass Fuhrer a sock in the mouth from me" (Maes doesn't let Dad see the note. Nijah sees it and laughs out loud).
Nijah hands Maes a small box, pretty smile on her face. "This is from Sissy and me. She told me you better use it often, and if you don't send some along and keep her updated she's disowning you."
Maes grins. Then he opens up the brand new camera and wants to cry again.
"Wow! Oh my goodness, thank you Nijah, this is so cool! Yes, yes, I'll send her lots of pictures, tons of pictures, every day of everything and-,"
"How 'bout you send her a picture of this, first?" Mom says, walking toward Maes with a bundle in her arms. Maes moves the blanket to the side and reveals—
"A PUPPY!"
Maes Mustang is a rather spoiled child.
He supposes as long as he's aware and honest about it, it's not such a bad thing to be.
000
Maes walks in to Nijah's room just as she's removing her leg for the night.
"Oh, hey brother," Nijah says softly, unbuckling the straps of her prosthetic and gently letting the plastic and metal contraption fall to the ground. Nijah pats the bed beside her and Maes rushes over.
"Can't you tell me why they're fighting? Please, please please? I just want to understand, maybe I can help-,"
"Maes, you can't help with this one."
"Well, don't I at least deserve to know what's going on? I am nine now, I'm part of this family, too, I'm affected by this just as much as everyone else and-,"
"Dad tried to stop Sissy from passing the medical exam."
What?
"What?" Maes gasps. Nijah breathes heavily.
"A month before her graduation from the academy, when everyone was having their final physicals and the first cadets were being given their orders, Dad went to the enlistment committee and tried to make the medical qualifications for active duty stricter for pre-existing conditions.
"And you know how Dad can be, how persuasive he is. He almost got the committee to pass it, just in time for Sissy's physical. She'd have been 4F for sure if Dad's new restrictions went through. Which, of course, was the point.
"But Major Armstrong's on the committee, and he thought it was odd, especially the timing. He talked to Uncle Ed and Mom about it, and in the end the committee didn't pass the new restrictions. But Elysia heard about it, too, and she told Sissy, and then, well—,"
"Oh." Maes says sadly. "That's bad."
"Yeah. It really is." Nijah sighs. "And it was wrong, it was so wrong, but also….I don't know, Maes, it's not like I wanted Shireen to be in the army. I don't like that she's gone, and she does get sick a lot, she has ever since the accident when we were little. Daddy shouldn't have done what he did but Shireen….she wouldn't have listened to any of us, anyway if we tried to talk her out of it. Daddy just doesn't want her to get hurt, wants her to be safe. I can't fault him that, I want her safe, too."
"Speaking of not being hurt," Maes says with a cough, "Your birthday's next month. Still gonna do it?"
Nijah smiles sadly. "Of course I am Maes, Uncle Ed promised. I've been looking forward to this for ten years, I don't care if it hurts. And the first thing I'll do after Aunt Winry clears me is have a footrace against you!" Nijah cries, tickling Maes until he shrieks.
"I'll beat you."
"I almost beat you already and my leg is plastic right now. I'm so going to win."
"In your dreams, sister dear."
"Oh, brother mine, it's on."
000
When Maes comes down for breakfast a few days later, it's to Mom and Nijah using their "serious conversation" voices in the kitchen. Maes puts his ear against the door to listen.
"Sweetheart, I'm not trying to sway you either way, I just want you to be happy. Are you sure this is what you want?"
Even without seeing her, Maes can tell Nijah is trying valiantly to refrain from sounding exasperated. Maes is pretty sure this is the fourth time he's heard this conversation happen. He can't imagine how many times Nijah's gone through this.
"Yes, Mom. Yes. This is what I want. I'm calling Winry after breakfast today to schedule the appointment."
"Look, you've talked to Ed, right?" Oh, apparently Dad's there, too. Mustang parents' last stand. Cute. "You know that you have to be awake? That it's going to be an average of three years before everything is back to normal and you're completely finished with rehabilitation? That you might have to use the chair again?" Oooh, Dad with the low blow. "You have to be awake for the entire surgery, Nijah, and it will be painful-,"
"I'd imagine not quite as painful as losing the leg in the first place." And there's sweet Nijah, coming in hot with an even lower blow.
Silence.
Just as the awkwardness is about to swallow Maes whole in the hallway and he's considering entering the kitchen to save his family from this suffering, Nijah speaks.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, that was really mean I just-,"
"No, Nijah, you're right." Mom says quietly. "You know what you're getting into, you've been looking forward to this for years. We just worry. And whatever happens, whatever you do, your father and I will be here to love and support you no matter what."
Even Maes can hear the double-meaning in her words. Of course, Shireen isn't home to hear them.
"I know, Mom. And I love you both, too."
"Why can't fights with Shireen be this easy?"
Silence.
Maes walks in this time, whistling. Mom and Nijah are in the middle of hugging, both glaring at Dad a few feet away.
"Too, soon, Father dearest. Too, too, too soon." Maes takes a seat at the table and starts buttering toast. "And, in answer to your question, you and Shireen fight the way you do because you're the exact same person. But don't listen to me, I'm just nine. I'm much too young to know things."
Maes takes a bite of toast.
"Hell, he's mad at me now, too? Does anyone in this family like me?"
"Little Hayate seems fond of you. But he's also a month old, so he doesn't know any better yet." Maes can always count on Mom to give the sickest, lowest blow of all.
She's so awesome.
000
"Maes Mustang, you have ten seconds to get down here or we are leaving without you. One….Two…Three…," Maes knows the threat is an empty one, but his mother's tone is absolutely terrifying.
"—Six….Seven…"
"I'M HERE!" Maes yelps, scrambling so quickly down the steps he falls on the last three. Nijah catches him before he face plants, smirk on her face.
"Watch yourself, brother, or you're gonna need automail next," Nijah jokes.
Dad is unamused.
"That's not funny, Nijah. Come on, car's here." And Dad stalks out the front door to the waiting car, entering and sliding across the backseat without looking back.
"It was just a joke. The Elrics make automail jokes all the time," Nijah mutters, slinging her bag over her shoulder and begrudgingly following Dad.
Mom pats her shoulder with a sigh. "He's just nervous, kiddo. He'll be better once your surgery's over, I promise."
And Nijah follows Dad into the car.
"Let's go my Lazy Maesy Daisy," Mom says, picking up Maes' bag and using her free hand to cup the back of his head. Maes grins at the old nickname, before looking back at the house.
It's a pretty red-brick manor house, just outside Central City. Maes and his family have lived there as long as he can remember (Mom had refused to live in the Fuhrer's mansion on the base after Dad had been elected-something about bad memories.) The shutters are green and the trees surrounding it are old and large and great for climbing. They'll only be gone a week for Nijah's surgery, but still, Maes will miss it. It's a wonderful house.
It's a wonderful home.
But as the Maes enters the car, and Dad apologizes to Nijah, and Nijah ruffles Maes' hair, and Mom grabs Dad's hand, well, Maes remembers that home isn't really the place.
It's the people.
000
When the Fuhrer's train reaches Resembool, it's met by a rather large crowd, all standing in the rain. Maes spies quite a few cameras and notebooks huddled under umbrellas.
"Oh," Nijah sighs, staring out the window. "How did they even know we were coming?"
Dad wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Sorry, honey. The MPs will get them out of the way, and we'll get to the car fast. They aren't allowed anywhere on the Elric's land, and the Elric's have a lot of land out here. We won't see them again."
Until we leave. But Maes keeps that thought to himself. He idly wonders what the first picture of Nijah's new automail will sell for.
People can be cruel.
The MPs do disperse the reporters, and Maes' family files quickly into the waiting car. Everyone is very quiet. It makes Maes sad, because usually coming to Resembool and seeing the Elrics is a joyful thing. Everyone is always so fun and happy, they catch up and play games and eat good food. And they're all always sad to leave. Even Dad.
But today the ride is quiet. Mom is straight-faced staring out the window; Dad and Nijah both look a little like they're going got be sick. Maes wishes desperately in that moment for Shireen. Because these are the times, when everyone is somber and quiet and contemplative, when Shireen would look up from her book and snort and tell them a joke that really isn't very funny she's just read, but make them all laugh anyway. Or she'd tell a story about the last time they visited the Elric's, or an anecdote she'd heard recently at school. She'd laugh and start the conversation, then sit back and stare at her book, small smile on her face as she listened to their family's antics.
Instead Maes looks out the window and watches the rain drip down. Well, he does until the car turns down the Elric's long lane, and Maes spies a yellow spot running toward them from the house in the distance.
"STOP!" Maes yelps. "STOP THE CAR!" Everyone in the back seat lurches horribly as the car stops.
"Maes, what the hell?"
"Brother why-,"
"At least put on your rain-," But Maes is out the door before Mom can finish the sentence, slamming the door behind him and sprinting through the mud and water and gunk to reach the growing yellow speck.
"MAES!" the yellow speck yelps. Maes can see her face now, her smile wide and pretty gray eyes shining brightly. "MAES YOU'RE HERE!"
Maes sprints even faster, meeting the yellow-clad nine year old in the middle and nearly tackling her in a hug.
"Trisha! I missed you! It's so good to see you, you never write me letters and I write you so many letters, why don't you write more? You could call too, y'know?"
Trisha Elric laughs out loud and grabs his hand, dragging him toward the house. "It's never the same as being together for real. Convinced your parents to move to Resembool yet?"
Maes grins. "It'd be easier if you guys just moved to Central, your mom can be a mechanic anywhere! Dad, on the other hand, cannot exactly run the country from Resembool." Trisha slaps him playfully on the shoulder before pulling an umbrella from inside her rain coat.
"You dummy, you're soaked. Where's your coat?"
"In the car," Maes says sheepishly, just as said car pulls up beside them.
"Hello, Trisha," Dad wryly greets as he puts the window down. "Would you two like a ride?"
Trisha opens up the umbrella and beams at Dad. "Nope, Uncle Roy, I came prepared. We'd just get the backseat all muddy anyway."
"I still don't understand how Edward Elric ended up with considerate children," Maes hears his father mutter as he rolls up the window and the car drives on up the muddy lane.
"Erm, sorry?" Maes says, huddling under the umbrella with Trisha as they walk up the lane. Trisha chuckles.
"Don't worry about it, they love each other; they just have a very weird way of showing it. And every time you guys come to town, Dad expresses his disbelief that the "bastard Colonel" has such smart, cool kids," Trisha explains, "Then he concludes that it all came from Hawkeye."
Maes shrugs. "Probably true."
Trisha laughs again, and bumps his shoulder with hers. "Boy, I missed you a whole lot, Maes."
"Yeah," Maes says, smiling down at his favorite person in the world. "Yeah, I missed you a whole lot, too."
000
The Elrics and Mustangs sit around three tables pushed together in the kitchen, eating Winry's wonderful stew with apple pie for dessert.
After dinner, the families sojourn to the living room, and Aunt Winry quietly slips Nijah out of the room when Ben and Nina start showing off their newest alchemy skills. After Winry returns without Nijah, Maes waits five minutes then leaves the show, using the bathroom as an excuse.
He follows the echoes of Nijah's sweet, lilting voice. She's in Ed's library in the back, talking on the phone.
"Sissy, it's okay. It really is, please don't worry…..No, stop that, I'm not mad. I'm not. It's my fault, I knew you couldn't get leave this soon, I just got so excited once I was sixteen…..Yeah. Yeah, I know…I'm sorry, too…..Look Shireen, I just—You are with me. You're always with me, just like Mama and Papa and Abba. People don't have to be dead to hold them in your heart, and you, Sissy, you're always with me in my heart, you must know that. I wouldn't be anywhere without you, I wouldn't have even made it out of that car alive all those years ago….No, n-no Sissy, please don't cry. P-please, you'll just make me-,"
Maes hears his sister dissolve into sobs.
"Y-yeah….Yeah….I-I might not be able to call tomorrow, but someone will call you….No, I won't make you talk to Dad. I wish—No, we're not talking about that now. Yeah…Thank you, Sissy. I love you so much…I love you most….Goodbye. Good night."
000
The Elrics live in a big, old country house, but not even they have enough bedrooms to accommodate all the Elrics and (most of) the Mustangs. It leaves Nina, Trisha, Maes and Ben sleeping on the couches and mats in the living room.
Maes waits until everyone is asleep, waits until the candles are blown out and the murmurs of the adults in the kitchen are silenced before he creeps down the hall, up the stairs, padding to the room Nina and Trisha share, which they've given over to Nijah for the night.
Nijah has her own room because Winry wants her well-rested for the surgery tomorrow, undisturbed and quiet. But Maes knows his sister. He knows there's no way she's asleep right now.
"Nijah," Maes whispers into the room, wincing when he hears to the door creak. "Nijah, you up?"
Maes hears Nijah let out a soft chuckle and watches her roll over, her red eyes shining in the moonlight. "Hey brother," she says, patting the bed beside her. Maes rushes over and slips under the covers. Nijah wraps her arms around him tightly, her cold foot tickling his leg.
"Hey, Nijah," Maes whispers into his sister's collarbone, hugging her tightly, "I just wanted you to know, it's okay if you're scared. I know you want this, and I know you've had to work really hard convincing everybody, especially Mom and Dad to let you do it now. You've been really brave and really strong. But it's okay to be scared right now, it is scary, no matter how much you want to run and jump and skip again. You can be scared now. You can cry if you want, I won't tell anybody."
Nijah lets out a soft sob, and Maes feels tears drip into his hair. They stay like that for a while, hugging and crying and being as the full moon crosses the sky through the window, pretty and bright like Nijah's hair.
"What did I ever do to deserve a brother like you, Maes?"
Somehow, they fall asleep, just like that, wrapped around each other. They wake up the next morning to Mom shaking their shoulders at dawn. Aunt Winry wants to start the surgery early.
Dad picks up the half-awake Maes like he's still five instead of the very mature and adult age of nine, and carries him to Ben's room, where Mom and Dad had slept the night before, so Nijah can get ready.
Maes is nearly asleep again when a horrible thought wakes him up.
"Dad!" he gasps, sitting up, scrambling to find the glasses Dad had set on the bedside table and shoving them on his face, "I gotta say good luck, I never said that to her! Oh goodness, how thoughtless, and I gotta tell her how much I love her and-,"
"Kiddo, she knows." Dad says softly, sitting on the bed and petting back his bangs, slipping his glasses back off. "She definitely knows. Just go back to sleep now, you don't have to be up yet."
Then Dad kisses his head and tucks him back in, and Maes doesn't really have a choice.
He falls back asleep.
000
Maes wakes up again a few hours later, and pads into the kitchen to find Uncle Ed, Trisha and Sam making scrambled eggs.
"Mornin' Maes," Ed says happily, pouring out a glass of orange juice and handing it to him, directing him to a seat at the table.
"Can I help?" Maes asks, looking at Trisha at the stove and little Sam cleaning a pot nearly bigger than his body in the sink.
"No, no of course not. You're our guest!" Ed says happily, forcing Maes down into the seat and settling a plate of eggs before him.
"Daddy, I'm stuck," Sam says angrily from the sink. And indeed his is stuck, his tiny body somehow squashed inside the stew pot from last night, inside the sink. "Make Ben and Nina do this, I'm tired. I want eggs."
"Whiny little brats don't get my eggs, Sam," Trisha says calmly from the stove, and Ed grins, before pulling the damp four year old from the pot with a squelching noise.
"It's too bad, too. I think these are the best eggs I've ever had," Maes adds, playing along as he silently sends out a prayer of forgiveness to Cook. Because Cook's eggs, oh man, they're really the best. Everything Cook makes is the best.
"Plus, buddy, your brother and sister are still asleep. They have unfortunately entered a stage of life known as," Ed pauses, looking both ways dramatically and narrowing his eyes before whispering to Sam, "adolescence."
"What's the…ado—epto—shes—what's that, Daddy?"
"Oh, it's horrible, Sam." Maes chimes in, "It's terrible. Shireen and Nijah barely survived it. They got grouchy and angry and slept all the time and they grew in weird places and, in the mornings—if I—If I woke them up too soon," Maes rests the back of his hand on his forehead and throws his head back dramatically, closing his eyes.
"What happened?" Sam whispers, blue eyes wide.
"It hurts too much to talk about, Sammy. I daren't burden you with my troubles." Uncle Ed barely holds back a guffaw.
"What? What happened? You have to tell me, Maes, what if I wake them up too early? What happens then?"
"We turn in to MONSTERS!" Nina shouts, pouncing on Sam from behind the door. Poor little Sammy shrieks and runs, only to be caught up in Ben's arms.
"Monsters who feast solely on the hearts of LITTLE BROTHERS!"
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Sam screams and screams, wriggling in Ben's arms, "NOOOOO Daddy, Daddy, don't let them eat me, please please please!"
Ben hugs his brother close and kisses him on the head as they all laugh. "We'd never eat you kid, we love you too much."
"Plus, you'd taste nasty. Not sanitary at all, you don't take enough baths, Sammy," Nina adds.
Sam pouts. "You're so mean. You're all so mean to me. I want Mommy, where's Mommy?"
Maes' stomach drops. For in the lightness of the moment, he'd completely forgotten about Nijah. About Aunt Winry in the operating room behind the house, reawakening Nijah's long dead nerves. About Nijah, terrified and in horrible pain.
Forgotten about Mom and Dad, holding Nijah's hands and listening to her scream.
Trisha comes to sit by Maes and grabs his hand under the table.
"She's at work buddy, remember?" Ed says softly. "That's why Uncle Roy and Aunt Riza are here. Mommy's giving Nijah a shiny new leg.
"Like Daddy's?"
Ed grins. "Just like Daddy's. Even better than Daddy's probably."
Maes' heart settles just a little at the thought.
000
After breakfast, they all get dressed and Uncle Ed sends them off to play outside.
"Go get some fresh air, play games, be kids, all that jazz."
"But Daddy, it's all muddy."
"It's okay, Sammy, the muck monsters only come out in June."
"But-Daddy it is June!"
After a few minutes, the highly traumatized Sammy is convinced to come outside, and Maes spends what should be a very enjoyable morning playing games with the Elric siblings. He can tell how hard they're all trying to keep his mind off Nijah, most especially Trisha, but, try as they might, nothing is working.
And after about three hours outside, Maes uses going to the bathroom as an excuse once again to try to get an update on Nijah.
Maes doesn't make it to the bathroom, though. His trail is interrupted by muffled voices through the kitchen door.
"Fuck, Fullmetal. Fuck, that was…..God damn it, that was awful." Dad sounds unbearably pained. Maes leans in closer to the door.
"It tends to be. Winry said it went well, the nerves were good, all things considered. She said Nijah was very brave-,"
"I'm not—I know she was, I know it went well. But, shit, Edward, you were eleven. You were eleven and you did that twice because I fucking told you to enlist, and then I just left. I didn't even see you again for another year, didn't ask how it went or check in or anything. I—I, God, Ed, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
Maes hears Uncle Ed's shocked intake of breath.
"Look, Mustang, I would've done it no matter what, you know me. I wouldn't have been able to sit around in that chair the rest of my life. You just—you gave me some incentive and direction a little faster than expected, that's all.
"But I just-,"
"Kids give you a different perspective on life. That's how it's supposed to work, you watch them grow up and it makes you grow up, too. And I know what you just saw was horrible to witness no matter what, but it was infinitely worse because she's your kid. Seeing family in pain hurts almost always worse than the physical pain they experience.
"And now, you're feeling bad because you can finally empathize with the automail surgery, and you're my family now, too, bastard, like it or not you are. And you're angry that you weren't there for me then.
"But we weren't family then. We were strangers, and you found a weird-ass cripple kid with a suit of armor for a brother, and instead of arresting us like you should've, instead of taking us to an actual hospital or an insane asylum or one of the labs like any normal person would've, you gave us a job. You gave us hope.
"Please don't feel bad now, Roy. I promise you it all turned out in the best possible way. If all that's what it took to get to today, I don't regret a second of it, automail and all. You shouldn't regret it, either."
Maes pretends not to hear his father cry.
000
"Hey, Ed, honey, can you go get me the—Oh, hi Maes," Winry says, taking off her mask and washing her hands in the sink, "I thought you were outside playing with my crew."
Maes shrugs, and does his best to discreetly peek around Winry to see what he can of the recovery room and Nijah. Unfortunately, the door is shut. "I was. I had to go to the bathroom, and I overhead Dad and Uncle Ed talking in the kitchen, so I figured it was finished."
"Had to go to the bathroom, huh?" Winry asks with a small smirk. Shireen isn't the only person Maes knows who can sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. Maes shrugs his shoulders sheepishly.
"Can I see her? Is she awake?"
Winry breathes heavily out her nose. "Yeah, you can see her. Your mom's in there with her now. Nijah's asleep, though. The surgery went really well, but she needs to rest now, so be quiet."
Maes nods, and washes his hands after Aunt Winry. Once she's satisfied that he's clean, Winry nods and leads him through the door.
Nijah's lying in the bed, eyes closed, white hair fanning out under her, blending in with the sheet. There's an IV hooked up to her arm, and dark bags line the bottom of her eyes. Her stump and leg are covered by the sheet, but Maes can see the lump where Nijah's thigh is now attached to the automail port.
Mom's sitting in the chair right next to the bed, hand holding Nijah's tightly. Her hair is down, and her face looks just as tired and drawn as Nijah's.
"Hi, sweetheart," Mom says softly, giving Maes a tight smile. There's another chair in the room, but Maes bypasses it and goes to Mom. Mom scoots over, and Maes ends up half on the chair, half on her legs. He tries to sit more on the chair, because he is nine now and he's much too big to sit on his mother's lap.
But then Mom wraps his free arms around his waist and pulls him all the way onto her lap, so Maes just rests his head on Mom's shoulder instead. She's seems like she needs it right now.
Maes needs her, too.
000
After five more peaceful days in Resembool, Maes and his parents pack up to leave.
"Do I have to go?" Maes whines to his father, watching him pack his bag while sitting on Ben's bed. "Really, I should stay. It would be so cruel to leave Nijah here alone."
The guilt trip does not work. Dad rolls his eyes. "She won't be alone, Maes, you know that. She'll be so crowded and fussed over here she'll probably be itching to leave by the end of the month."
"Impossible," Maes contradicts. Because really, it is impossible to ever be tired of the Elrics and Resembool.
Dad rolls his eyes again. "You and Mom will be back next weekend, it's only a few days, son. And the Cretan delegation is coming this week to discuss the trade deal, it's been planned for months, we have to be there."
Maes clicks his tongue. "Yes, Dad. You have to be there. But I don't see why I have to be there. I am only nine, unless you've forgotten."
"The Crown Princess is bringing her family along. Her twins are very excited to meet you at the dinner."
Being the son of the Fuhrer can be such a burden sometimes.
"Ugh, Dad, they're like five! This is stupid. I want to stay." Maes harrumphs.
"Now you sound five, Maes. You'll be back soon. Go say your goodbyes."
Highly offended, Maes runs from the room and hugs all the Elrics. Ben ruffles his hair, Nina kisses his cheek. Sam grabs his leg and begs him not to leave. Winry gives him a pie and Ed pats his head and tells him to give his dad hell.
"Don't be sad, Maes," Trisha whispers to him softly when she hugs him. "You'll be back soon. We'll see each other again. And we'll all take good care of Nijah when you're gone, promise."
Satisfied with that, at least, Maes goes up to the girls' room, where Nijah's supposed to be taking an afternoon nap.
"Nijah," Maes whispers into the room, "Are you awake?"
Nijah pats the bed beside her and Maes scrambles in.
"I'll miss you," Maes whispers, and Nijah hugs him tightly. "I feel like our family's being pulled apart. Why can't everybody just be together again?"
"It's not forever," Nijah says softly. "We'll all be together again soon enough. Just be patient, brother."
Maes Mustang is good at many things. Patience is not one of them.
000
When Maes and his parents get back home, the first place Maes goes is the kitchen.
"Cook!" Maes shouts as he bursts through the doors, "Cook, Aunt Winry made some apple pie for you. I suggest we eat it now with ice cream."
"Mr. Maes, you silly boy, you'll spoil your dinner." Cook says, slapping him with a towel before pulling him into a hug, her red eyes glowing with mirth.
But she does go and pull vanilla ice cream out of the ice box.
"My dearest darling Cook, chocolate ice cream, if you please. You and I both know it's infinitely better than vanilla." Maes says with mock disgust. In reality, he quite enjoys vanilla. But, really, if chocolate is a choice, well, it's no choice at all.
Cook rolls her eyes, muttering about complimenting tastes and little boys turning into cocoa beans, but she pulls out the chocolate ice cream as well and grabs plates and forks for them.
"So, how did it go? Word around here is Ms. Nijah's surgery went well." Maes nods, quickly swallowing his bite of pie and ice cream. Really, chocolate ice cream and apple pie is the perfect combination, and anyone who says otherwise is just wrong.
"Yeah, she's still really tired a lot, and the port hurts her, but it's not infected or anything and Winry's weaning her off the painkillers. Winry thinks they might even try attaching the leg for a test in just a couple weeks if everything keeps going this well."
Cook crosses herself then kisses her palm, muttering a prayer in Ishvalan under her breath. "I'm sure they will. Ms. Nijah is a very strong person. Ishvala blesses her roses with more than just beauty." Cook says knowingly.
Maes nods and takes another bite of his chocolate apple pie.
000
"Oh, you've grown to be such a handsome boy, Maes," the Crown Princess Isabella gushes, pinching his cheek, "You look just like your dear father, but with your mother's beautiful eyes." Maes shoves his glasses up his nose and works valiantly to keep from rolling his beautiful eyes.
"You're too, too, too kind, Your Highness," Maes gushes in return, adding in a small bow, and fighting to keep from wincing after his dear father pinches his arm. Luckily the princess doesn't catch his sarcasm, just beams at him.
"And where are your lovely daughters, this evening, Your Excellency?" The princess continues, and Maes tunes out the rest of conversation. He always has difficulty keeping in the snort when people address his father as such. But tonight he does it. Because Mom and Dad have promised, if he's extra good and polite tonight, they'll let him go back to Resembool tomorrow, a whole day and a half earlier than expected.
Maes Mustang is on his best behavior.
He puts up with more horrible cheek pinching and small talk, he plays with the admittedly adorable five year old prince and princess; he puts his napkin on his lap and doesn't slurp his soup, makes conversation about school with the Cretan ambassador while they eat, and doesn't spill any of his food. Not one. Single. Drop.
Maes is rather impressed with himself.
Dessert is rolled out, a beautiful three-tiered white cake, filled and decorated with the sumptuous strawberries the Cretans had brought along with them as a gift. It's beautiful and delicious and Cook has honestly outdone herself this time.
But Dad's allergic to strawberries. So Cook makes him his own, pretty little chocolate cake for dessert.
And it. Just. Sits there.
Maes tries to talk himself out of it, fills himself up with two delicious pieces of the very pleasant strawberry cake and pretends the chocolate delicacy to his right simply doesn't exist.
But for what feels like hours, Dad talks and talks and talks to Prince Francis who's across the table from them, paying no mind to the decadent gift Cook has given just him.
Just as Maes is readying to resign himself to a sad, lonely night of no chocolate, preparing to ask to be excused and go to bed so he can go dream of his favorite treat instead, Dad, without even looking away from the prince, slides the cake to his right and winks quickly at Maes.
Sometimes his dad can be pretty great.
Happy that the night has not turned into a total bust, and positive that he'll be arriving in Resembool at this time tomorrow evening, Maes picks up his fork and shoves a large piece of the chocolate cake into his mouth.
And it tastes….funny.
It leaves a sour veil in his mouth, and if they weren't at a state dinner with the Cretans, Maes would spit the bite back up into his napkin.
But they are at a state dinner, and Maes wants to go Resembool tomorrow, so he swallows the disgusting bite and takes a huge gulp of water from his glass before anyone can see his grimace.
What could've gone wrong with the cake, Maes wonders. Cook has never, in his memory, served something so horrible, especially when they have guests. Perhaps the milk she used in it had gone bad or maybe the eggs or—
"D-dad," Maes whispers, swallowing thickly as he grabs his father's arm, "Dad, I don't—I don't feel good."
Dad looks over quickly. His eyes grow wide when he sees Maes' face.
"Maes what's wrong?"
But Maes can't respond yet, and he brings the hand not clutching his father's wrist up to his throat, breath wheezing.
"Cake—your cake's bad," Maes finally gasps, before falling to the floor rather dramatically.
Life passes in flashes after that. There's lots of shouting and screaming and running. He's still on the floor, Maes realizes eventually, but Dad's there, he's lying in Dad's lap. And then Mom is there in her pretty purple dress, the beautiful eyes she gave Maes wide and terrified.
And then Mom, she sticks her fingers in his throat, back and back and back, and it hurts so bad, and there are tears in his eyes and the world is gray and floaty.
And then he spews vomit all over his mother's pretty purple dress, and the world comes back for a bit.
"Maes," Mom barks at him, her hand cupping his face, pressing his glasses painfully into the bridge of his nose, "Maes, you stay awake. Don't you dare shut your eyes. Don't you dare." And Dad's holding him so tight it hurts, and Mom is gripping his hand so hard he thinks it may break. They're still talking to him, screaming at him probably, but he can't hear it. This time instead of gray the world is turning black at the edges.
Maes Mustang suddenly realizes that this is probably dying, he hurts all over and his senses are going away one by one and he's going to shut his eyes and not wake up again. His last words are going to be about bad cake, and the last thing he will ever see is the two most powerful people in Amestris, the two strongest people he knows crouched on the floor and covered in vomit, looking more horrified and terrified than he's ever seen anyone look in his nine achingly short years.
Maes' vision goes completely black just as his neck and the hand he tried so hard to grip his mother's with go slack. The last thing Maes' Mustang hears, over even the fog enveloping his brain, is Mom's horrible, agonized shriek.
"MAES!"
000
"…..you need to prepare yourselves…."
"…..the FUCK is that supposed to…"
…
"…..Brother, oh brother, please…"
….
"….c'mon, buddy, come back…."
"….why they hell'd we name him Maes? It's like we cursed him…."
"….Cook, how could she? She loves…."
….
"….Maes, please, oh God, please, wake up…."
"…I should've let him stay in Resembool…."
000
Maes opens his eyes.
Everything is dark, and blurry and oddly muffled. His throat is pulled tight and vaguely he thinks it should hurt, it should be absolute agony, but it's all just a haze instead. Mom's in a seat by his bed, eyes closed in sleep, her hand still gripping his tightly.
Maes is no stranger to hospitals. He's been to some of Nijah's checkups and prosthesis fittings with her before; Shireen has been admitted a few times for her intestinal problems and illnesses. And of course, there was that terrifying time three years ago when Dad had been shot.
Maes is no stranger to hospitals. He is, however, a stranger to being the patient. He feels so weak and achy, his throat and stomach are absolutely killing him, and his head definitely probably weighs an actual ton.
He's hurt and he's scared, and boy oh boy does he want his mother. Luckily, she's not far away.
"Mom," Maes rasps, struggling to squeeze Mom's hand. "M-mom."
Mom's eyes flash open and automatically dart to the window then the door, before falling on Maes.
"Oh, thank God." Then somehow Mom's in bed with him and he's cuddled in her arms and he's sobbing and she's sobbing and they're both just crying messes when Dad walks in.
"—Ed's taking Nijah and Trisha back to the hou—Oh thank fucking God." And then Dad's crying, too, and Maes is sandwiched between his parents on the tiny hospital bed.
"T-that was s-so scary," Maes sobs, "I-I thought I w-was dying, and I w-was never gonna see S-sissy and Nijah again e-ever. And you looked s-so scared and it hurt so bad, and m-my last words were gonna b-be about bad cake, who has l-last words a-about cake? They should've b-been I love you, but I couldn't talk and t-tell you I love you. I love you. IloveyouIloveyouI-,"
"Maes-,"
"We know," Mom says, trying to catch her breath and pulling him in even tighter. "We know, no matter what happens we know. And we love you, too, we love you and your sisters more than any damn thing in the world."
Maes eventually falls asleep sandwiched between his parents.
He wakes up that way, too.
000
"How's the squirt doin'?" a familiar voice asks thickly, and Maes fights hard to open his eyes because Shireen is here.
"The doctors are a watching for pneumonia since his stomach was pumped, but so far everything is fine. If he keeps improving they think we can take him home at the end of the week." Dad says, and Maes stops fighting, because Dad and Shireen haven't talked in almost three whole months, and Maes is a rather curious, meddlesome child.
"Did Armstrong give you any grief for leaving?"
"No, sir. It's not like she could ignore direct orders from the Fuhrer. And besides, she's fond of Maes. Everyone is, really."
Dad sighs. "Shireen, don't call me 'sir'. Please, just, please don't. It was bad enough when your mother had to call me sir, I really don't think I can bear hearing it from you."
"But-,"
"I don't give a damn about rank. I don't give a damn if we're fighting, you're my kid and I'm your dad, and that job is infinitely more important than any other I may end up with in my life. Got it?"
"Yeah. I got it."
Silence for a moment.
"So, it was Cook?" Dad must nod, because Shireen continues. "I just, I really can't believe it. She loved us, she loved Maes, I mean she was with us for years. Why the hell would she do something like this?"
Dad sighs again. "The poison was for me, not Maes. I gave Maes the cake I was supposed to eat. I just, God, I could see him eyeing it, and he'd been so good and polite that night and I knew he was still pissed we didn't let him stay with Nijah in Resembool. I thought I was being nice." Dad chokes. "Apparently I killed Cook's son. During the war, one of the cities I razed, I killed her son. She didn't even try to run when she realized Maes ate the cake instead, just started sobbing and told us what kind of poison she used. Knowing that probably saved his life, honestly."
"So she waited ten whole years to get her revenge?"
Maes pictures Dad shrugging. "I mean, you and I, we'd retaliate right away. But some people can wait. They're patient. They'd wait for years and find their opening, striking for maximum impact. Especially if they feel they have nothing left to lose."
"Like Mom."
"Yeah. Just like Mom."
"How's she been with all this?"
Dad snorts, "Just as well as the rest of us, I'd say. It's been a nightmare." Dad sighs again. "She'll be glad you're home, though. It's always better when everyone is together."
Silence.
"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're home, too, Shireen."
Shireen sighs.
"You going to apologize for real, yet?"
"Nope."
Shireen scoffs. "What?"
"I'm still not sorry for what I did, so no, I won't apologize now. Maes says I must wait to apologize to you until I'm honest, because you can 'sniff out liars like a bloodhound.'"
"He actually said that?"
"He's an observant kid."
"I know."
They both sigh then. Shireen grabs Maes' hand.
"He was supposed to be the safe one, you know? The shitty stuff wasn't supposed to touch him, not yet at least. He was supposed to stay good and innocent and happy, and just be a spoiled little brat that everyone fawned over forever. Shit like this isn't supposed to happen to Maes."
Shireen's grip on his hand tightens.
"So you can want that for Maes, but I can't want that for you?"
"You've never known me when I was good and innocent."
"I very strongly disagree with you, but that's not the point right now," Dad says. "Why am I not allowed to keep you safe and happy?"
"Your idea of safe makes me unhappy, Dad. I'm not going to be happy unless I try my strengths and challenge myself-,"
"But why? You don't have to, you could do anything in the world, Shireen-,"
"Why did you want to be Fuhrer?"
Silence for a moment.
"I didn't want Ishval to happen again. I just—I wanted to stop the corruption and I figured the best way was from the top. I wanted to make this country, the world really, a better place."
"Is it so hard to believe I want to do that, too? Is it so hard to believe that I want to be like you, Dad? That I want to impress you and make you proud and try to make the world a better place?"
Dad chuckles.
"God, damn it, don't laugh at me, fuck you, I'm pouring my heart out here and-,"
"No, no, Shireen, no, I just. Shireen," Dad says softly. "I've been trying to impress you and make you proud since the day I met you, kiddo. I value your approval over anyone else's in the world."
It's not an apology, not really, but for Dad and Shireen it might as well be. And when Shireen lets go of Maes' hand, and Maes hears soft footsteps and sniffles, he knows they're finally hugging.
"About time! I've been waiting ages for this," Maes rasps, opening his eyes with a grin.
"You little shit."
But then Shireen hugs him and kisses him nearly to death as Dad watches on with a smile. It's just her way of saying I love you.
000
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is it. The moment you've been waiting for, the crème de la crème, the race of the day. This one's for all the marbles. Father is pitted against daughter, sister against brother, for our grand prize of a sense of pride and accomplishment and the 500 cenz I found in Dad's jacket pocket!" Shireen announces to the children of the ward excitedly lining the hallways.
"On Team Oh-shoot-where's-my-leg, we have Nijah Khadem-Mustang getting a launch from none other than the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, Edward Elric!" Shireen cries dramatically, eliciting shocked gasps and applause from the children watching.
"And, for Team Perfect-little-third-child, we've got the infinitely cooler than her father, Daughter of Fullmetal, Trisha Elric pushing the newest and greatest hero of Amestris, Maes 'I foiled an assassination attempt on the Fuhrer, what have you done with your life' Mustang!"
Maes is proud to note his and Trisha's team gets even louder applause than their opponents.
"Racers at the ready." Shireen says solemnly. Ed and Trisha line Nijah and Maes' chairs up at the tape.
"On your mark. Get set." Shireen raises her pillowcase flag high in the air. "GO!" she shouts, dropping the pillowcase.
"GO MAES!" Trisha shouts, shoving his wheelchair as hard as she can. Maes lets out a whoop and gets his hand on the wheels, propelling himself forward as quickly as he can, Nijah laughing along beside him.
The race isn't very long, but by the end Maes is exhausted, and he knows Nijah is, too. They roll past Shireen, the finish line, slapping her hands as they pass her, the children and Trisha and Ed shouting all along the way.
"It's too close to call!"
"No it was Maes-,"
"Definitely Nijah-,"
"That's called a photo finish."
"But who took the photo?"
"IT'S A TIE!" Shireen shouts diplomatically, grinning widely as she hands Nijah and Maes each 250 cenz.
"How cliché," Maes mutters, smile on his face.
"Well, at least you didn't beat me this time," Nijah says happily.
"Whoa, hey no, this doesn't go against my perfect record. I've still always beat you in our races." Maes complains.
"Our next footrace, you'll be eating my dust. Just wait til you see the beautiful leg Winry made me. I wish I could use it now," Nijah gushes.
"Well right now, I think everyone should be eating dinner. And someone," Dad says, walking into the ward and looking pointedly at Maes, "should still be in bed."
The children in the halls stop their shouting, mouths open in disbelief. It's not every day you get a visit from the Fuhrer of Amestris.
Well, Maes supposes, unless you're his child.
"Way to kill the mood Colonel Bastard," Ed mutters. Maes is quite glad no matter how powerful Dad gets, as long as Ed's around that nickname will never, ever die.
000
They all return to Maes' room and eat wonderful smelling Xingese takeout from the containers, whilst Maes is left to sip the weak broth that is all the doctors think his stomach can currently handle.
Maes pouts, and Mom hands him a fortune cookie.
"They're bland enough, I think," Mom says with a wink.
Mom is awesome.
Maes cracks open the fortune and reads the slip of paper as he sucks on the cookie.
"You don't need strength to let go of something. What you need is understanding." Maes reads aloud to the room. "Lucky numbers 2, 10, 19, 23, 35, 41. Huh. Well that's a nice thought, I guess. I kinda wish they would be actual fortunes though, you know? Like, 'avoid chocolate cake on Thursdays' all those great warning that are applicable to real life."
Trisha laughs, but nobody else does. Too, too, too soon, Maes supposes.
"Hey Shireen," Dad says suddenly, eyes wide like he's just had an epiphany. "Shireen, don't go back to Briggs."
Shireen looks affronted. "Dad, seriously? You want me to desert? Are you kidding me, were you just humoring me with all that progress and understand and shit I thought we made?"
"Language, Shireen," Mom chides.
"No, I wasn't. Shireen, go study, get your certification. Be a state alchemist." Dad says firmly, eyes bright.
Shireen's fork drops on the floor with a clang.
"Are you shitting me right now?"
"Shireen," Mom says warningly, but she's got a smile on her face.
"You—Dad, are you serious? Will you really? God, I wrote that one off the minute you became Fuhrer, I knew you'd never sign the approval for me to take the exam. You—you'll really approve me? You'll let me do it?"
"I mean, you still have to pass, Shireen it's not a given." But even Dad is grinning.
Ed snorts. "Mustang, you forget I was her teacher. Shireen could pass that exam in her sleep."
"Oh, Sissy, you'd be such wonderful state alchemist, you're so good at it already. And then you could be stationed in Central and come visit us all the time and you'd get one of those beautiful pocket watches like Dad and-,"
Shireen's smile is so big and wide and beautiful Maes can't see her scar.