IV
Retrospection
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rewind
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Ed isn't sure how much longer he can take this.
This miracle...it's Heaven and Hell and forgiveness and condemnation all at the same time. Seeing his mother, whole and alive and happy and here—it's more than he has dreamed of in years. He can still barely believe this is happening. But Al...
(He'll never forgive himself for what he did to his brother. They've gotten what they had yearned for so terribly, but it's sick and twisted, and Al can't truly live what they have received.)
And he knows, he knows, that they can't stay here forever. Mom would wonder, would ask why they won't go back, because as far as she knows, they have family and friends and a worried Teacher searching for them back home. And while, surely, Mustang and the others are in an uproar, have probably called the Rockbells and are trying to find a way to get them back...
They're not his mother...and he doesn't think he can bear losing her for a third time.
He knows, too, that their younger selves deserve to be here—they deserve to be at home with their mother in the precious little time they have left. He knows that the era they have just entered will ruin them beyond repair if they stay too long, if they learn the true cruelty of the world itself...
(It'll ruin them, just like it's ruined him.)
But Mustang isn't stupid; Ed knows he won't tell them the gruesome details of their future. Surely, he'll keep them safe from the horrors lurking around every corner...buy him and Al some desperate time with their mother...
(But he also knows himself, so he knows that five-year-old Ed won't stop digging until he finds the truth.)
(Some might call that determination. Edward calls it suicide.)
And, on some distant level, he realizes that Al is probably right. (Of course, when is his little brother ever wrong?) Telling their mom what has happened, telling her what they did and how badly he messed up...that may stop it from happening at all. If this is truly the past, or if they created a new timeline with this strange sort of alchemy...
He hasn't been able to bring himself to enter the study since they arrived. He knows it's irrational—knows they need to understand the circle and Hohenheim's notes to reverse it (eventually), but... That's where everything began, and that's where it all ended. That's where his life ended and Hell began and all hope was lost...
He doesn't think he'd be able to handle that...not yet.
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He's been achy all day, ever since he woke up from that hideous nightmare. (It hasn't been that bad in months.) He still barely keeps from flinching when he sees his mother, half-expects her to turn into that grotesque monster that couldn't possibly have been her...
He knows, intellectually, that this is real and Mom is alive and he should be happy, but something is holding him back. He's not entirely sure what it is... Maybe it's the paranoia instilled in him by the military. Maybe it's the cynicism, courtesy of a lifetime of failure and disappointment. Maybe...
He doesn't have time to think on this anymore, though, because a sudden, stabbing pain in his right shoulder brings him back to reality with a gasp.
(His living room. The living room in the house he burnt down almost four years ago. Through the haze of pain, he almost forgets what he's doing here.)
"Edward? Are you all right?" There—that's her voice, so beautiful and perfect and yet marred by worry. He must have some sign of discomfort on his face. He wouldn't be surprised. (Did he cry out? He doesn't remember.)
"Fine—just—just a cramp," he says, and his voice is as level as he can make it as he smiles and reaches up to gently massage his right shoulder.
(It doesn't help.)
"Are you sure?" She isn't buying his act; the alarm on her face is only growing as she stands, taking a step toward him. "Sweetie, you're pale as a sheet—"
Clanking of metal. Al. Good. Maybe he can talk their way out of this, because the pain (ripping, tearing, screaming) is increasing steadily, is making it near-impossible for him to convince his mother that he is, in fact, fine.
(He had almost forgotten, really, how caring she was, how kind and concerned and self-sacrificing. It's reassuring, but it's also alarming, because he knows exactly what this pain is and she can't know, not now.)
"Brother?" Al's voice is cautious, carefully controlled, and Ed can tell by his tone that he knows what this is, too. (There's nothing he can do to alleviate the pain, and Ed knows his brother probably hates this even more than he does.) "Do we need to call Granny?"
He can only grunt, because the pain has spread down the arm that he doesn't have and it's as if he's being ripped apart all over again. Muscle from bone from ligament from skin being pulled pulled pulled until he just can't take it anymore, and there is blood everywhere and he is going to die—
Just like that, the pain is starting in his left leg as well, as if to spite him (you gave me up for a sick imitation and now you have what you want for no price at all) and even though he knows this isn't real—can't be real—and the floor beneath him is clear of blood...it doesn't make it hurt any less.
He's nearly doubled over in his chair, now, and his flesh hand grips his thigh port in a futile gesture of comfort. His teeth are gritted and his eyes are shut tight, because he can't scream and he can't cry because that just isn't allowed, especially when his little brother who can't do these things is inches from his face, begging him to focus, and his terrified and confused mother is barely behind.
He has to be the man of the family. He has been ever since Hohenheim left, and he won't stop just because of a little pain.
He just can't...
He's unable to articulate any of these things, though, because he's sure that if he opens his mouth, only a tortured scream will come out. So he only curls in on himself, closer, tighter, and trusts Al to understand that it hurts so Goddamn much.
"Mom, call the Rockbells," Al says, as if from far away, and though his voice wavers Ed can clearly hear the command behind it. "Granny and—and Auntie and Uncle Rockbell, if they can leave Winry—"
"It's pouring rain," she says, her voice unsteady and unsure and terrified. "Can we do anything here? I don't want to make them—"
"Tell Granny—tell her to bring painkillers," Al plows on, and desperation is clear in his voice now. "Please, Mom, we really need this. It—it happens, sometimes...and it won't go away on its own."
If Ed were lucid, were thinking straight and still desperate to keep the truth from their mother, he would think that Al gave rather too much away. But right now, all he cares about is the fact that his mother's quick footsteps are retreating, heading for the phone in the kitchen, and he hopes that it doesn't take Granny too long to get here.
He's been through this before. Hell, he's been through worse. But he doesn't think it's been this bad in years, since before he had his automail attached...
Al's quiet, soothing voice cuts through his mangled thoughts, and Ed is fairly certain he feels his brother's large hands massaging his abandoned shoulder port. "Listen to me, Brother—none of it is real, okay? It isn't happening—you're fine, it's just the storms and the—the stress—"
Of course, that's what's causing it. He can hear the heavy rain falling on the roof, can feel the ground shake as thunder rolls through Resembool... And if this situation isn't stressful, he doesn't know what is.
He nods shakily, and manages a strangled "I know," but his acknowledgement doesn't make the pain lessen, and neither do his brother's words. (He's not sure how long this will last, how long he will feel like his missing limbs are being flayed apart cell by cell, but he knows he has to bear it. He can't let Al and Mom down like this.)
Somewhere, he hears his mother talking, and the blessed pressure on his shoulder is released as Al turns, trying to keep her from stepping closer, from finding out what is wrong with him. She can't know, and he knows this, but the hysterical note rising quickly in her tone is somehow more painful than the agony assaulting his body. He has to calm her down.
"Mom," he says, and though his voice is barely a whisper and the weather makes it nearly impossible to hear, both she and Al turn, staring into his watering eyes and begging for answers. "'Mfine—really—"
It's such a blatant lie that he flinches upon its completion, because no facet of this situation could be considered even remotely fine... But he hopes desperately that she believes him, at least to some extent. He hopes it alleviates her worry, because he cannot stand seeing her like this...
(She's upset and horrified and confused, and he has only himself to blame. He has to wipe his own ass, make up for his own mistakes and fix whatever wrongs he has committed.)
"Edward—" she begins, and it's clear in her tone that she knows he's lying—"please, don't lie—just tell me what's wrong so I can help—"
He shakes his head immediately, on impulse, and bites back a scream as another surge of agony rolls through. He knows she's anxious and confused and desperate to make this right for him...he knows this because he's inherited those same qualities himself. But he can't afford to lose this battle, not when so much (her happiness) is at stake—
The front door slams open, letting in torrential rain for a few seconds as two figures rush in. One, clearly, is Granny, and he is fairly certain that the other is Auntie Rockbell, even if his vision is blurring too much for him to tell. They're tracking mud all over the floor, but nobody seems to notice as the two newcomers arrive at his side, tilting his head with soft fingers so he can look at them better.
"Where does it hurt, Edward?" Yes, that's Auntie Rockbell—he had almost forgotten what her voice sounds like, it's been so long—
But before he can reply, before he can even think of composing himself enough to open his mouth, Granny says, "Oh, I've got a pretty good idea. Alphonse, go make your mother a cup of tea in the kitchen." The message is clear: keep her out of here. And Ed understands that, somehow, she knows—she knows exactly what is ailing him without being told, and he only has a moment to wonder how before two outraged voices split the air—
"He's my son, Pinako, I can't just—"
"I can't leave Brother like this when he—"
"I swear he will be fine," Granny says loudly over their objections. "I know what this is and how to fix it. We just need some space, all right?"
There is no room for argument in her tone, and after a moment Ed hears footsteps retreating toward the kitchen. Granny waits before the door is securely latched before she moves toward him; he is curled up, now, clutching his thigh with his left hand while his right arm lays uselessly across his lap. If this doesn't fade soon...
(He doesn't remember even his earliest episodes being this long and painful... But he has no time to think on that now.)
"I need to see your port, Edward," Granny says, and her voice is much kinder than it was mere seconds ago. She hands him two large pills—the strongest painkillers she has, Ed knows—and he swallows them dry, desperate for some sort of comfort. "It's just the barometric pressure changes—phantom pains aren't uncommon—it'll fade eventually..."
Auntie Rockbell makes a noise of surprise, but Granny ignores her, reaching gently for his coat. "I'm just going to take your jacket off, all right?"
He barely has the presence of mind to nod as he releases his thigh long enough for her to slip his layers off. Auntie Rockbell gasps as his arm is exposed, but he does not care right now. She isn't Mom, and even if she's as good as family to him...it's not the same—not really.
Granny is silent for too long, though, and he struggles to focus on her face, to gauge her reaction. Surely, she knew of his automail? With her talk of getting his mother away and phantom pains...why is she so surprised...?
But she finally breaks the silence, her voice almost threatening. "Edward, how long ago did we make you this arm?"
Oh. Through the blurry haze of delirious pain, Ed finally realizes what she is focusing on—the scarring around his port. Surely, she was expecting new scar tissue, perhaps even bandages, fresh from surgery when he was pulled through time... But instead, he knows, she is seeing grafting scars years old, already faded to a pale pink instead of a deep and angry red.
He supposes he'll have to give it up...to Granny and Auntie, at least.
"Eleven..." he's able to gasp out, returning his futile attempts to his left thigh. "And...my leg..."
It seems to take them a moment to understand, but when they do, Granny swears loudly, and Auntie Rockbell barely stifles a scream. "You have a lot of explaining to do, boy," she says, unceremoniously pulling off his boots and pants. "Once this dies down—"
"Just—please...don't tell Mom..."
It's the only thing he can think of to say. He'll tell them anything—everything—as long as they keep it from his mother. He knows that he can't hide this from her forever—especially after this episode—but...if she has to hear it...he wants it to be from him and Al, not secondhand from the Rockbells.
"Not my place to tell your mother anything," Granny says rather gruffly, and she's rubbing some sort of salve around his thigh port, massaging it in. He hopes desperately that it starts working soon... "But you can't keep this from her forever...whatever accident did this, maybe she can stop it from happening at all. I don't know how this time travel works, but..."
There is another shock of pain through the nerves in his thigh before the agony begins to—finally—fade. He's still achy and sore, still occasionally feels a stab in the leg he doesn't have...but it's so much better than what it did feel like, and he can't help but relax as Granny moves to work on his shoulder. Auntie Rockbell takes over massaging his leg as they sit in an uncomfortable silence.
Ed knows they're waiting for him to break it, waiting for an explanation...but he isn't sure he's willing to give it while he's still shaking uncontrollably, while his right arm is still being torn off, inch by gruesome inch...
Eventually, as Granny administers the salve, the blinding pain decreases, though it still hurts a great deal and he is still trembling violently. "All right," Granny says, her tone steely. "No lies. How in Hell did you lose two limbs when you were eleven? And convince us all that you needed automail?"
He's unable to hide his flinch, unable to meet either set of eyes staring at him, waiting for an answer. He knows he can't talk his way out of this; both women are irrationally stubborn, just like Winry. He knows nothing but the truth (no matter how horrific) makes sense, fills the empty holes in his story...
"Ed..." It's Auntie Rockbell this time, and her voice is soft, reassuring. "Whatever it is, we won't be angry with you. It was an accident, right? Nobody can blame you for that..."
He shakes his head violently, though, because she is so very wrong. They think he was playing on the train tracks and didn't get off in time; they think he was playing hide-and-seek in the fields and the tractor hit him before the farmer could see... But the answer they are seeking is so much darker, so sinister, that he knows they are not prepared.
(Neither is he, but they haven't given him a choice.)
"It was...a rebound..." he mutters, still refusing to meet their gazes. "It went wrong...really wrong..."
"What kind of alchemy could do this?" Granny looks skeptical as she gestures to his automail. "You two know what you're doing—what could you screw up this badly?"
Too vague. It's not a lie, but they want more...it doesn't answer the questions they need to ask. But he doesn't want to tell them...can't tell them...they have no idea what will happen, that Mom will waste away with a disease they don't know how to cure...
It's not even a year away...
"Please...don't tell Mom," he says again, and his voice is reduced to scarcely a whisper. Everything of his usual bravado, his cockiness and confidence and exuberance, is stripped away, now. He feels like he's five years old again, like he's done something bad and is about to be punished. Auntie Rockbell is here, and while her face is marred by worry, that kindness and determination he's always known her for are shining through. She's so much like Mom, yet they are so different... He is hurting, now, and it's not just the still-fading phantom pains. But he can't possibly get himself out of this...
"What is it, Edward?" Granny presses, and something like worry is spreading across her face as well. "What did you do?"
He takes in a deep and shaky breath, trying in vain to calm his roiling insides. He has to do this. (But this simple fact doesn't make it any easier to confess it aloud.) There's no way to lie to them, not when Auntie Rockbell's desire to help and Granny's stubborn need to know are bearing down on him. So he swallows thickly and finally manages to choke out—
"Human transmutation..."
There are several beats of silence in the wake of this pronouncement, but somehow, Ed can't find it in him to look up at either of them. What they—he—did—it was horrific and wrong and unthinkable...but they were just so lonely...
"But that's illegal...!" Auntie Rockbell, surprisingly, is the first to break the silence; her voice is hoarse with disbelief. "Why would you—even I know not to do that!"
"And it's illegal for a reason," Granny says, and her voice is sharp. Ed remembers suddenly that she and his father were old friends...she likely knows a lot about alchemy, even if she doesn't practice it herself. "You got off lucky with two limbs, boy—why would you even think—"
"Because we couldn't take it anymore!" His voice is loud and scared and desperate, and he sees both of them jump as he plows on. "We couldn't—she was gone and...and..."
There. He's said it. Not in so many words, but there is only one she whom they care enough about to risk their lives...
And he can see it, see the recognition flood their faces, the horror and realization and denial. (There's nothing any of them can do to save her.) "Trisha...but..." Auntie Rockbell's hands are covering her mouth; her eyes are wide and terrified and filling with tears. (He thinks suddenly that he should tell her, should stop her from going to Ishval... Seeing Auntie Rockbell cry reminds him vividly of the day they had arrived at the Rockbells' to find Winry hysterical with grief, clutching a military letter in her hands... But he doubts it would change anything. Rockbell women are nothing if not stubborn, after all.) "When does she...?"
"A year. Maybe less." He can't bring himself to think of what season they have landed themselves into...but any way he looks at it, there's no time...there's never enough time to say goodbye. "Al had just turned five..."
"Oh my God..." Auntie Rockbell looks faint, looks like she simply cannot accept that this will happen. (Ed remembers, vaguely, that through his own daze of grief he had seen that she was inconsolable when it happened. She and his mom had been friends for years, after all.) "What—what was—how—"
He winces, because he remembers clearly how both Auntie and Uncle Rockbell had worked tirelessly, barely sleeping, to try and cure the epidemic that swept through Resembool...had called in favors from Central, East City...but by the time anyone had anything to help, their mother was too far gone. If he tells her now, tells her that it was illness and heartbreak that took the life of her best friend...she will drive herself mad trying to prevent it.
(And he knows that desperate madness all too well.)
He does not know how to answer, because she deserves the truth but he cannot give it to her. But Granny saves him the trouble—"Did Alphonse—you two did the transmutation together?"
He cannot breathe for a moment, because he wishes with everything he has that the truth he must give them is false. He wishes he could tell them that he was a responsible older brother, that he didn't let Al participate in what was clearly a dangerous transmutation...
But that would be a lie...and Edward can't stand those anymore.
"He—the armor," he starts around the thick lump in his throat. "I—it took everything—I could only just keep his soul here..."
(The wetness in his eyes, he tells himself, is nothing but his body playing tricks on him. He cannot cry.)
Auntie Rockbell doesn't seem able to take it anymore. A sob escapes her lips, and she embraces Ed in a desperate hug, as if holding him tight will hold their lives together. Granny only looks on, an expression of intense, indescribable grief drowning her usually stoic face...
He would give anything not to have to tell them these things, but he can't stand dealing in lies anymore. He wants them to know the truth...
(But, somehow, he still can't find it in him to tell his mother. She is the center of their lives, the center of everything...)
(This isn't going to be easy for any of them.)
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In the kitchen, Al is making as much noise as he can, trying to drown out the conversation Ed is surely having with the Rockbells... But he hears Auntie Rockbell sob, loud and clear, and he's sure his mother hears it as well.
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fastforward
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They're in a big house with lots of little houses inside it; Ed has never seen anything like it. Al's hand is shaking in his own as they follow Mr. Hughes to a door, and they are totally silent as he pulls out a key and lets them inside.
"Gracia! Elysia! Can you come here a minute?"
Gracia and Elysia, apparently, are his wife and daughter; both of them look very surprised as they run into the hall. "Daddy's home early!" the little girl crows, running up to him and hugging his legs. The woman is smiling as well, though she also looks confused. "What are you doing home, dear?"
"We had a bit of a situation at work," he says, gesturing to Ed and Al as he briefly picks up his daughter into a bear hug. (Ed wishes his dad would come home so they could do that...) "They need someplace to stay in Central for a while, so I volunteered our house."
Al takes a step back at the sudden attention, his grip tightening on Ed's hand. Even if he says nothing, Ed can understand his feelings loud and clear—I don't want to stay with people I don't know! (And Ed doesn't want to, either, but he has to be strong for Al to show him that everything is gonna be okay.)
The lady is squatting down in front of them, now, alarmingly close, and she looks just as surprised as everyone else did. "Are you—?"
"They're two teenagers who were on a field trip, and they stayed behind to talk to Roy," Mister Hughes says quickly. "Ed and Al Elric. These little guys activated a transmutation circle in 1904, and they ended up swapping times..." He shrugs. "Or, at least, that's what I understood. You know me and alchemy..."
Mrs. Hughes stares at them for a moment longer before she smiles and stands up, her eyes (green just like Mom's) soft and kind. "Well, you boys are probably hungry, huh? Elysia and I were just eating lunch..."
Ed nods, deciding immediately to trust this lady. After all, Mister Hughes is nice, and if she's a Mom then she can't do anything wrong. But still... "Will Winry be here soon?"
"Hm?" Mrs. Hughes looks over to her husband, eyebrows raised. "Winry's coming up again? Doesn't she have work?"
"Ed and Al would be more comfortable with someone they know...and since there aren't any trains to Resembool..."
She nods, sending another glance toward the two of them before taking her daughter's hand. "Well, she's welcome whenever she gets here. You had better get back to work..."
"Mm. I'll be home tonight, all right?" He grins widely at all four of them, and Ed can't help but smile back.
He seems like an awesome Dad...
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Lunch is quiet, especially by Ed's standards. Al still seems too scared to say much, and Ed doesn't know these people at all... The little girl looks at him often with wide eyes, but Mrs. Hughes seems more focused on Al. Ed can't understand...why does everyone keep looking at his little brother like that? It's starting to scare him...
"So what's your mother like, boys?" Mrs. Hughes asks at last, looking up from her sandwich. "What do you guys do together? I want to make this as normal as possible for you..."
"Uhm..." Quite honestly, Ed has no idea how to describe his mother. She's just...the best. "She's awesome!" he says at last, grinning over at Mrs. Hughes. "We practice alchemy, and play games, and read, and go to see the Rockbells..."
She laughs—it's a nice sound, but not as nice as Mom's—and nods. "Well, we've got games and books here, and Winry'll be in town soon. Hopefully you'll be okay until Roy figures out how to send you back home."
Ed nods. Even if this lady isn't quite as perfect as their own mom, she still seems really nice. They'll be okay here. But... "Do you have a phone? Can we call Mom, at least?"
Al still looks very upset, still hasn't said a word, and Ed is sure talking to her—even on a telephone—will cheer him up greatly.
(He's always laughed at his little brother for being so attached to Mom...but now that they're separated, Ed realizes that he's exactly the same.)
Mrs. Hughes hesitates, staring at both of them for a moment before sighing. "We...don't have long-distance calling on our phone...I'm sorry, but that just isn't possible."
"Oh..." Ed deflates, glancing over to Al. His head has sunk even lower, and he can see his lower lip trembling dangerously. He has to do something for his brother... "When is Winry gonna get here, then?"
"It's only a couple hours by train. If there is one today, she should be here before the morning," Mrs. Hughes says quickly, also looking at Al. "Oh, Alphonse...you don't need to cry...everything will be all right. Maes and Roy and the others will get you home very soon..."
Al lets out a sob, flinging himself toward Ed and hugging him tight. Elysia starts to say something, sounding very confused, but Mrs. Hughes quickly shushes her, telling her to go play in the other room.
Ed isn't very good at making people feel better, but this is Al, and he's the older brother, and that's what he's supposed to do, right? So he rubs Al's back the way Mom does, and tells him it'll all be okay...
(Because even if he's not sure of that himself, he has to make Al happy. He's lying, but it's for a good reason..that makes it okay, right?)
"I'll go call Maes and see if he knows when Winry's train will be here," Mrs. Hughes says after a moment. "Is that okay with you two? I'll only be in the next room, so just tell me if you need something."
Al's grip around Ed's neck only tightens, so Ed nods to her quickly. As soon as she is gone, Al finally speaks, though his voice is choked with tears and his face is still buried in Ed's shoulder. "Brother...I wanna go home..."
The stab of guilt Ed feels (it had been his idea to try the transmutation, after all—he only wanted to make Mom smile) is sudden and painful, but he forces himself to ignore it. "Roy said he's gonna work on it, right? We'll get home soon...and Winry'll even be here until we do! It'll be okay...don't cry..."
Alphonse's grip is only tightening, though it sounds like his sobs have lessened a bit. "Will we be okay...?"
Ed hugs his little brother tighter, pretending the words he has to say are not a lie. "Course we will."
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As it turns out, Winry had apparently been able to catch a train very soon after Roy had called her. Mrs. Hughes has assured them with a kind smile that she'll be in Central in time for dinner.
The hours seem to drag on and on for Ed. Al has stopped crying, and Mrs. Hughes got him washed up without a problem, but he still sniffles every now and then, and he's a lot quieter than he has been in a very long time. Ed knows he has to think of a way to cheer him up...to distract him...at least until Winry gets here.
"What kind of books do you have?" he asks Mrs. Hughes a half-hour or so after lunch. It's easy for the both of them to lose themselves in text...in the theories and algorithms and runes... He hopes the Hugheses have at least one book on alchemy to distract Al. If they do, Winry'll be here so much faster.
"All sorts," she says, looking up from her sewing and smiling. "From what I've heard, you probably won't want any storybooks, though, huh?"
He shrugs. Storybooks are...well...they're okay. Mom and Dad used to read them when he and Al were little... But even if the stories can be interesting, he much prefers fact...textbooks...learning.
But any book is better than no book at all, so...
"I know Maes kept some of his old textbooks...I'm not sure about alchemy, though. I can check—just give me a moment." Ed nods, so she stands up, heading for the other room.
Ed looks over to where Al is sitting on the floor with the Elysia girl, building block towers and mostly listening to her talk. They seem to notice him looking after a moment, for the girl stops talking and they both look over; Ed smiles reassuringly at his brother, opening his mouth to tell him Mrs. Hughes is looking for books, when Elysia interrupts—
"Your name's Ed?"
"Yeah," he says, turning his attention to her and frowning a bit. Why does she care?
"I have an uncle named Ed!" She sounds very excited about this, and before Ed can respond, she continues—"He's really short and has a little big brother and he's friends with Mama and Papa and he looks just like you—"
"Elysia, what are you talking about?" Mrs. Hughes has come back, holding a stack of books in her arms. "I told you not to talk too much—Alphonse is very upset, and—"
"But Ed looks like Uncle Ed!" she insists, staring up at her mother with wide eyes. "And Uncle Al is big and scary, but—"
"Elysia!" Her voice is unexpectedly sharp, and all three of them jump. Al cowers back a bit, and Elysia looks shocked that her mother would do such a thing.
"Mama...what's wrong...?"
Mrs. Hughes looks like she's seen something really scary...like the way Dad had looked the last time they saw him. "It's—it's nothing. I'm sorry for yelling...we just shouldn't talk about that, okay?"
Elysia nods slowly, her eyes still large and frightened, and Mrs. Hughes sighs. She sets the pile of books down next to Al before picking up her daughter. "I hope some of those will be okay for you guys," she says after a moment, smiling in an obvious attempt to make them feel better. (Ed can see her arms shaking.) "I need to talk to Elysia, so we'll be over in her bedroom. Just yell if you need something, okay?"
The two of them nod, and soon the Hugheses are gone. Al is leafing half-heartedly through a few of the thick books—physics, chemistry, history, but no alchemy, it seems—but Ed cannot even concentrate on the books he loves so much. What is wrong with Mrs. Hughes? Why did she look so scared? And Elysia said her—her Uncle Ed looked like him...and then she said "Uncle Al"...
He isn't stupid; just because he's five years old doesn't mean he can't understand. Something is weird about these people...no matter how nice they are, no matter how many times they say they want to help...he doesn't know them, right? And the first lesson he remembers learning from his mother is don't talk to strangers.
Al seems to have selected a book—organic chemistry, something they've only seen mentioned at home—and is sitting in the armchair, the large book almost obscuring him from view. Ed can only hope it will make him feel better, at least for a while...until Winry gets here and everything gets fixed and they can go home.
This is surely the same world they have lived in since they were born—he knows everything is the same as it is (was?) back home. But he's realizing...as much as he doesn't want to admit it...everything is different, and it's scaring him to death.
Mom isn't here and Dad isn't here and nobody will let him talk to anyone he knows. And he doesn't know these people, doesn't know anything about them, so how is he supposed to keep Al safe? That's what Mom and Dad and Granny and everyone else have always told him. You're the big brother, and Al relies on you. You have to protect him, all right? And he's always accepted this, has promised to do this for as long as he can remember...but he never knew it would be so hard.
His head hurts thinking about all these things, though, and he knows that worrying won't make anything better. (Mom worries all the time, and she looks so sad...) So he picks up a book on Amestrian history and tries to focus on the words written out before him. He knows what they all mean...he should be able to understand...
But long after Al is engrossed in his alkanes and his carbon rings, Ed still cannot concentrate.
Something is so wrong here...
(Why can't he figure it out?)
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Winry arrives at last in a blur of blonde hair and old, battered suitcase and desperate sobs. Before Ed has even properly realized that she's arrived, before he can take in the fact that she's so old and before he can alert Al to her presence, he is swept into a tight hug as Winry crosses the room.
"Oh god, Ed..."
He isn't quite sure what to do, has never been good at comforting a crying Winry...so he only wraps his arms around her neck, hoping it will make her feel a little better. Where is Al? He's always been better at this...
Al has indeed gotten up from his chair, an alarmed look on his face as he hurries toward them. "Winry, why're you crying...?"
But instead of calming down (to Ed's horror), Winry's sobs only increase in volume as she lets go of Ed to turn toward Al. The embrace she gives him is perhaps even more desperate than Ed's... She doesn't seem able to form words at this point, only heaving great sobs all over Al's head as he gingerly hugs her back.
"Winry, what's wrong...?" Al tries again, sounding just as scared as Ed feels. "I don't—I don't understand..."
She shakes her head, though, releasing him as she clearly tries to get herself under control. "Sorry...it's nothing...you guys...you're just so little..."
In any other situation, Ed knows, he would fly off the handle, demand that she take it back because he isn't small, okay? But even he, terrible with others' emotions, can tell that that would be a bad thing to say right now.
"Is something wrong?" he asks, furrowing his brow and walking to stand next to her and Al. Winry is kneeling, is staring back and forth between the two of them like she can't believe this is real...
"We'll get back home so you can have—your us back," he says after several beats of silence, taking a shot in the dark. How do teenagers work? He has no idea... He figures that trying to make her feel better like they do Mom is a safe bet. "Roy and Mr. Hughes say it'll all be okay, so it will."
She gives a sort of choked laugh, pulling them both into another hug. "Oh, it's not that I don't want to see you two...I just haven't seen you so small in forever..."
Ed suppresses a twitch and a yell (he is not short!) in favor of returning the hug, rubbing her back like Mom does. Why is she so upset? What she's saying doesn't make any sense...
"You should probably stop calling us little," Al says after a second, and Ed can hear the grin in his voice. "I think Brother might explode soon..."
Winry laughs again as she pulls away, and though it still sounds rather hysterical, the smile on her face looks genuine. "I guess you're right, huh?" She reaches over and ruffles Al's hair—eliciting a squeak and a surprised squirm—before standing up and offering each of them a hand. "Mrs. Hughes said dinner's almost ready...we should go help set the table, yeah?"
Ed takes the offered hand, almost reluctantly, because he hates setting the table. But he doesn't want to make Winry start crying again, and since he doesn't know why she was so upset in the first place...
"Some things don't change, huh?" Mr. Hughes says from the front entryway, smiling at all three of them. Ed jumps; he didn't realize he was still there. And he isn't sure what the man means by that, but Winry seems to understand; she laughs as well, shaking her head.
"You know these two..."
Ed wants to object, because this man doesn't know them, not really...they've only been here for a few hours... But Al and Winry are already walking again, so he hurries to catch up. He doesn't understand...something weird is going on here, and he wants to know what it is.
He would ask Winry—he knows her, trusts her, because they've been friends since before he can remember. But he doesn't want to make her cry again...and until he finds out why she's so sad...
This will take time—and patience, something he knows he doesn't have much of. But he has to figure this out—he has to. His mind won't rest until he discovers the truth.
.
.
(But he can't even imagine the horrors waiting for him behind that locked door.)