A/N: Riza gets a little more of a mention in this chapter, but still no spotlight. And there's no sign of her in chapter 10, but she's going to be all over chapter 11, so no worries. I'm pretty sure Havoc is popping up in chapter 11 too. But there's a lot of Maes in this chapter and in the last one, so for those who love him to death (and who doesn't love that lunatic?) consider this my gift to you. I think he's going to be in chapter 11 too, but I haven't decided yet. It's still in flux right now. Well, enjoy!

Same disclaimer applies, I don't own FMA or any of the characters therein. Would be nice *sigh* but still not mine anymore than they were in the last chapter.

Chapter 9

Difference Between Father and Dad

"Have you ever wondered why, despite the obvious fact that I love physics, I've only ever published one paper in that field?" asked Edward, regarding Roy frankly.

"I did think it was odd, but you tend to hop around academically, so I didn't pay much attention to it," admitted Roy.

"Well, there's a really good reason for it," began Edward, and now it was his turn to go upstairs and fetch something. Roy could hear him opening and closing the library door. He returned to the parlor with his laptop in hand and set it on his knees so he could type. When he turned the laptop around, there was a PDF file open showing a title page. The author's name beneath the title was quite a shock, all things considered. The author was listed as Edward Hohenheim. "After this paper was initially published, we were approached by somebody who claimed to know our father. He said he knew how to find him. I wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of meeting him, but we were orphans without him. We knew that it was only a matter of time before social services caught up with us, and we didn't want to end up lost in the system and separated. So, like it or not, I agreed to listen to the man's proposal. According to him, my father had been working with his company, Ouroboros, but suddenly gave up his research and vanished."

"Now, keep in mind, this man had just told us that he knew where our father was but then he said a little while later that our father had vanished," interjected Al. "This fact alone hurt his credibility with us."

"So, long story short, this douchebag wanted me to continue my father's research – despite my age and lack of practical education. He thought I would be able to pick up where my father left off. But we'd caught him in too many lies during our conversation, so we told him to fuck off," continued Ed, and the look he gave his brother was one of old regret. "He was . . . persistent. Al and I had been living in our old house still, with Teacher and Sig staying a mile down the road from us. We were out in the country, so nobody really cared that we were out there on our own with minimal supervision. We took care of ourselves just fine. After this guy started pestering us, it wasn't safe for us to stay in that house anymore. We had to move in with Teacher. Then our house was broken into and completely trashed – just like my lab and my office. We knew it had to be that corporate douchebag. It seemed to us like he was looking for something, but fuck if we knew what. That's when our father finally contacted us."

"He didn't say much," said Al, picking up the story. "He told us that he was sorry we had gotten caught up in his troubles. He told us that he'd written a book and hidden his research notes in its pages. He'd used a special code, you see – a code that only the three of us would understand. The primary key to the code was his old copy of Hermetica. The dedication in his book was a hint to tell us where to find the key, and nobody else would have known what the hint meant. Even if they knew enough to recognize the quote, they wouldn't have known to look specifically in that printing of that translation. He said we had to make sure that Ouroboros never got their hands on his research. They had already used it once, and he never wanted to see it used again."

"So, we went in the middle of the night and salvaged what we could from the house," said Ed, his voice growing quiet, both boys lowering their gazes to the floor. "Then we burned the house to the foundations. We had already dug out all of our father's secret caches of notes and memorized all of them, so while the house was still burning, we made sure to throw every last scrap of paper he'd ever scribbled on into the fire. The only things we kept were photo albums, family portraits, and those two fucking books. Everything else burned."

"After that, we changed our last name over to our mother's maiden name," put in Al, making sure that his brother caught the overwhelming love and forgiveness in his eyes. How it must burn in Ed's gut, the feeling that everything that had happened was his fault. Given his overprotectiveness of family and friends and his overblown sense of responsibility, Roy had no doubt in his mind that Ed blamed himself for all the trouble that had found the boys, probably feeling that it had all resulted from him writing that paper. As if in penance, he never again studied in the field that he loved best of all the sciences. It was his way of balancing the scales – and keeping those he loved safe. "Teacher and Sig found a place in another small town where they knew most of the people. Ed grew his hair out, and I cut mine. We taught ourselves how to speak without an accent. We stayed there quietly until Ed finished high school at 16 and moved to Central City. When I finished high school at 17, I joined him here. Unfortunately, strange people like us . . . stand out. Ed's been really careful not to let the media catch any pictures of his face, and we've tried to stay under the radar whenever possible. But it's not like we changed our names all that much. We had drawn the line there and wouldn't budge. So it was only a matter of time before we were found, I guess."

"So, the other day, when you said you didn't want to end up getting the credit for any of our work, this was the reason?" asked Roy. Ed only nodded, his jaw tightening. "You couldn't take the chance of having your name attached to anything in the field of physics, even incidentally."

"Really, I shouldn't have stuck my nose in to begin with," said Ed, his cheeks flaring bright red. "If it had been anybody else, I wouldn't have. But it was you, and I knew if I asked you to keep my involvement on the down low, you'd do it. You'd be shocked how much trust I put in you when I helped you and your team out. I really wanted to help you guys out, but that one moment of weakness could have cost us everything." Ed was right. Roy was shocked. If he or any of his team had let slip who had helped them, there was no telling what could have happened. "Not that it matters since it's looking like all the years of care and caution were for nothing. Even if they don't know my real name now, they will soon enough."

"So, you really think the guy we're dealing with now is the guy from back then," stated Maes, more serious than Roy could remember seeing him.

"We do," confirmed Edward, and they could see in his face – hell, in his body language – how badly he wished it wasn't true. It made Roy wonder what the guy had done to the boys all those years ago. They had said the man was persistent, but he would have had to be quite a bit worse than that to prompt the boys to not only change their names but to also burn down their family home. Whatever it was he had done, Roy was determined to make sure that history didn't repeat itself.

"What about your dad? Have you heard from him at all since then?" asked Maes and Ed scowled at him hard enough that Maes twitched.

"Don't call him that," growled Ed.

"Call who what?" asked Maes, just as confused as Roy. Al, however, seemed to know exactly what Ed meant, and the answer saddened him.

"Don't ever call that rotten asshole 'dad'," answered Ed coldly. "There's a huge difference between a dad and a father. A dad is somebody who carries you home when you've skinned your knee, checks your closet and under your bed for monsters, reads you bedtime stories, and makes sure you always feel safe. A father is some asshole who knocks up your mom then leaves her flat to raise two kids on her own." Ed let out a soft wordless snarl. "So, no, I will never call that waste of space 'dad'. He's fucking lucky I'll call him 'father'."

"I suppose I can understand that," said Maes, probably because he was a dad, so he too could see the difference. "Do you have a name for the man from Ouroboros, by any chance?" asked Maes, changing the subject quickly. Ed nodded slowly. He typed something into his laptop then handed it to Maes.

"We have digital dossiers on everybody that might pose a threat," Ed told Maes, showing no signs of being the least bit ashamed of the level of paranoia he was admitting to. Then again, considering what they'd already been through, the boys might be entitled to a higher than usual level of wariness. "His name is Frank Archer. He even looks like a creeper, and he's always fucking smiling. He can pretend to be a nice guy, and since he's always smiling, you want to believe his act. But there's just something subtly . . . off about him. It's like none of his expressions make it to his eyes, and you can't quite shake the feeling he's looking down on you or playing some freaky game that only he knows the rules for."

"Once we started looking into his background, we found out that he has a criminal record," added Al, picking up the thread of the explanation. "He was in a war zone as a representative of the company. When the area he was in was attacked, he . . . killed a whole bunch of people . . . on both sides. Nobody could ever entirely prove what he'd done, but they did manage to charge him with a few petty crimes at least, and put him away for five years. When he got out, he went right back to the company as if nothing had changed. They knew what he'd done. It was their lawyers that got the murder charges dropped. They knew perfectly well what that man was capable of, but they welcomed him back with open arms, and continue to use him to do their dirty work."

"We've got the transcript from his trial, and a few other records that aren't usually available to the public, including his sealed military record," Ed told them then he shuddered. "Yeah, that military record will seriously keep you up at night."

"You kids are like the CIA or Mission: Impossible or something. You're seriously super spies! Who else do you have profiles on?" asked Maes, his eyes still captivated by the wealth of information on the screen.

"Like I said, it's all people that might pose a threat to us in one form or another," replied Ed with a shrug. "I hadn't bothered to start one on the dean until all this shit started, so I haven't got much in his profile yet. And some of the people in there never actually did anything after the initial threat. Mostly, when we were kids, we didn't know what to watch out for yet. We had more to be worried about back then too. The last thing we wanted was to end up stuck in the foster care system and maybe end up separated, so some of the profiles in there are on nosy-ass well-meaning fucking authority figures – teachers, social workers, counselors, coaches, that sort of thing. Others are about bullies, their parents, the bullies' friends, the bullies' friends' parents, and so on and so on. 'Know your enemy' and all that. We never half-ass when it comes to research, whether it's science or people, so when we looked into each of these people, we were very fucking thorough. We had to be."

"Surviving isn't just about making it through each day, it's about being ready for what might come at you tomorrow," said Al with a spark of the same determination that showed in his brother's eyes. "We did what we had to do to watch out for each other and survive."

"What about this teacher of yours? What did she have to say about all this?" asked Maes, and this time the brothers exchanged a look and snickered to each other.

"She's the one who taught us," Al told him with a too-wise sort of smile. "Teacher didn't just teach us science and math and martial arts. She also taught us how to survive on our own, whether we're living in the woods or out on the streets. She taught us how to make traps and early-warning systems. She showed us how to read people so we could tell the difference between predators and prey. She even taught us how to use found objects to replace things we don't have – like, filtering dirty water so it's clean to drink, making clothes out of stuff you wouldn't normally think of wearing, making things like needles and thread from bones and tree bark, and all sorts of other weird skills."

"That's why we call her Teacher but never mother," said Ed dryly. "She's always finding something else to teach us, and every bad situation is another opportunity for a lesson. It's seriously fucking tedious. If I came home from school with a black eye, she'd say, 'Some punk hit you, Ed? Well, now you know to duck next time.' Or like when this one bitch accused Al of cheating even though he didn't, Teacher said, 'Now you know to watch out for that woman.' That's just the way she is."

"Is there any way you can send me some of these profiles or print them for me or something?" asked Maes. He was obviously going into transports over everything he was reading.

"I'll create a secure virtual server for you to access, and I can dump copies of all these files on there for you," said Ed as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "I'll have Roy text you the access information when I'm done."

"You could always just text it yourself," said Maes, quirking his eyebrow at Ed.

"I hate texting," said Ed making a face. "If I had one of those fancy new phones, it might be different. But my phone's a dinosaur, and I'm not allowed to have anything newer because they all have fucking touch screens. And, of course, I can't use touch screen because I always have gloves on – and I tend to scratch or crack the screens every fucking time. I'm right-handed, and I don't always remember not to try to do things with my right hand. Touch screens and automail are not friends."

"All right, I get it," said Maes, surrendering the fight. "Do I even want to know how much of this information was obtained by illegal means?"

"All of it," answered the boys in chorus.

"Never trust a super-genius," muttered Maes to himself, and the boys and Roy giggled at him. "I guess I should just count myself lucky neither of you have turned into super villains. I'd hate to have to be the super hero that goes head-to-head with you. Well, let's go ahead and call Riza over and see how much of this we can validate by more legal means so that we can use it to help you out of your current crisis."

"Not today," said the boys, again in perfect sync. "It's Sunday."

"We don't work on Sunday," sniffed Edward.

"All work is done Monday through Saturday, and anything that comes up on Sunday has to wait for Monday," elaborated Al.

"But if you want to call Hawkeye over for coffee, that's totally fine," said Ed, and Al nodded to corroborate.

"Then, you know what, that's just what we're going to do," declared Roy decisively. "We can call the whole gang, and we can spend the rest of the day going through the record collection. I might even be persuaded to pull the grill out of the garage. It's at least warm enough outside to barbecue. And we have some meat in the freezer I'm sure we can do something with. What do you say?"

Ed, whose mood had been steadily darkening since the start of the conversation, slowly began to brighten once again. It wasn't as firecracker bright as it had been when they were dancing or listening to Elysia's nonsensical stories, but it was a good start. "Maybe we could go to the store?" suggested Ed, tentative and shy. "We could get some better meat, ya know? Maybe some other stuff to go with it."

"Oh! And dessert too!" put in Al excitedly and that was the last push in the right direction that his brother's mood had needed. Let it never be said that the way to Edward Elric's heart wasn't through his stomach.

Roy let out a contented sigh as Edward snuggled against his side, the younger man letting out his own soft sound of contentment. "Today was a pretty good day," said Ed, his voice a little rough from their final activity of the evening. "I don't usually like being around that many people at once, but everybody was sort of chill. It was pretty cool hanging out with everybody."

"And I know everybody was absolutely charmed by you," said Roy, grinning down at his younger lover with all the pride that was swelling in his chest. No man living could count themselves half as lucky as Roy felt in that moment. Ed leaned up and looked down at Roy with that expression that meant he was once again wondering if Roy were some sort of alien lifeform. Roy was beginning to notice that Ed most often did that when Roy paid him a complement. "What? Believe it or not, Ed, you're remarkably charming – especially because you don't mean to be and don't even know you are. People like being around you because you don't try to be something you're not. You do things your own way without being a pretentious asshole about it. On top of that, you're gorgeous, and your looks draw people to you and keep them there long enough to figure out how wonderful you really are. Laugh it off if you want, but that won't make it untrue."

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again when his phone started singing the chorus of Paul Simon's You Can Call Me Al. Predictably, it was Al's ringtone. Trading matching perplexed frowns, Roy and Ed looked around the floor until they found Ed's pants and dug out the cell phone. Ed opened it, put it on speaker, and immediately asked, "Al, you're down the hall. Why the hell are you calling?"

"Because I wasn't about to knock at this time of night, Ed," said Al, sounding exasperated. "There are some things you can't unsee Brother."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Ed, rolling his eyes as he pulled on his boxers. "What do you want?"

"Granny Pinako called me a few minutes ago," Al told him and Ed froze, his t-shirt halfway on. "Now, before you flip out, she's fine. Winry's fine. Everybody's fine." Edward visibly relaxed, but Roy took advantage of the moment of distraction to get the shirt back off over his head. Ed gave him a slightly disgruntled look that entirely melted when Roy's lips found the sensitive spot where his neck met his always-tense shoulders. Ed bit his lip to hold back a moan. "Ew! I don't want to unhear things either, guys! Edward Elric could you please focus?!"

"It's not all my fault," said Ed, his voice a bit breathy. "Didn't they teach you that in that . . . fancy medical school? It takes two to have sex."

"Ew! Ew! Ew! I'm not hearing this! Oh my God, I want to scrub my brain out with vinegar!" protested Al and Edward chuckled. "Look, Pinako just said she gave your phone number to somebody she swears is trustworthy. She didn't tell me who, but she said to expect a call soon. I'm just telling you. Okay, bye!" Al hung up abruptly, and Ed and Roy started laughing hard, all but doubling over. Then suddenly Ed stopped, jerking upward with the look of a startled deer.

"Wait, did he say Pinako gave my fucking phone number away?" he asked rhetorically. He closed his phone then opened it again, thumb already pressing the keys to dial a phone number only to have it start singing out his default ringtone halfway through dialing. Edward's hand shook a little as he put a finger to his lips to signal silence then hit the answer button and put it on speaker. "Hello."

"Edward, it's been so long," said the voice on the other end and Ed put a trembling hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry I've been out of touch for so long, but I'm sure-"

"You god damn worthless SONUVABITCH!" yelled Ed, startling Roy.

"Now, Edward-"

"Don't 'now, Edward' me you piece of shit! Do you have any fucking idea of the fucking shit storm that's been our fucking life?! Do you even fucking care?!"

"Edward, please, I-"

"NO! You know what? Fuck it! I was just about to get laid, and since you feel absolutely no fucking need whatsoever to interrupt your life for us, I don't particularly feel like extending the favor to you! Oh, and just so that I am being poignantly clear, I am, in fact in bed with a man. That's right, you useless monomaniacal fuckwit, your precious eldest fucking son bats for the other team! Enthusiastically! Suck on that and twist!" Edward closed his phone and went to open the bedroom door where Alphonse all but fell into the room as soon as the door opened. Thankfully, Ed and Roy were at least both in their underwear, otherwise they'd have further scarred poor Al who had hastily thrown a hand up over his eyes, just in case. Ed didn't seem to be in the mood to care.

"Brother, was that dad?" asked Alphonse very slowly.

"What was your first hint?" snarled Ed, shoving his phone at his brother.

"Um, the strident tones and excessive insults made it obvious," answered Al deadpan. "I could even hear you in my room, so I came to find out for sure. Brother, couldn't you at least have let him tell you why he was calling?"

"No," said Ed flatly. "Now, out. He'll probably call back in a minute, and I don't even want to hear his voice." As soon as Ed had shoved Al out the door, he closed it and leaned back against it. "I'm so buying a new phone tomorrow. And I'm changing my number for my office and lab lines and all of my e-mail addresses and maybe even moving to Brazil."

"Brazil sounds fun," said Roy noncommittally, lying down on the bed and pulling the blanket up over his legs then holding it open on one side in invitation. Ed hunched his shoulders and trudged over to the bed, promptly throwing himself onto it face-first. "That can't be good for your face, love."

"It wasn't," muttered Ed, muffled by the pillow. "Fu~ck my li~fe," he groaned loudly – or, it would have been loud if not for the aforementioned pillow. Taking it in stride, Roy drew the blanket over Edward, wrapped an arm around the young blonde's waist and rolled him over onto his side. "What is with that fuckwit's propensity for making my life suck?" asked Edward of the unfair universe.

But it was Roy that chose to answer, since the universe was so rarely forthcoming. "I think it's in the parenting manual, 'How To Ruin Your Children's Lives in Ten Easy Steps'. Unfortunately, I think some parents are just more enthusiastic about it than others." Roy wrapped his arms more firmly around Edward and pulled his lover close until Ed's back was pressed into Roy's chest. Roy rested his chin atop Ed's tangled golden hair and sighed. "But how about, instead of Brazil, we go someplace where they predominantly speak English. How about Canada? I hear parts of Canada are very nice. Or maybe England?"

"Nah, we're supposed to be smart. We could learn another language, easy. Maybe Spain? I took a semester of Spanish in high school. I can at least ask where the bathroom is and tell them they have a nice table," said Ed, starting to sound a little sleepy. The day – hell, the whole week – had been a hell of a rollercoaster for him. It was only fair that he'd be a bit worn out by now. Ed may be tough as they come, but even the strongest needed to rest from time to time. "How about we just go to Hawaii? At least then we wouldn't need passports. Oh, or how about Jamaica? Yeah, we could build a little shack right on the beach. I could use coconuts and tin foil to build a satellite so we could still get Internet. Then we could have all the naptime and Netflix we could ever wish for."

"See? This is why they call you a genius," Roy teased him, kissing the top of his head, and Ed laughed muzzily. "Sleep well, love. We can sort out the rest tomorrow."