VI
Requiem

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rewind

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This cannot be happening…

This…this is impossible…

Reality is crashing down around them; their world is falling falling falling and there's no saving it now.

Mom found the watch. Mom found the watch. Mom knows everything…

It's a ridiculous conclusion to come to, he knows, that she can know of her death and the Rockbells and the taboo. But how are they supposed to lie to her now? She'll want to know why he signed up, why he's tethered himself to that hellhole, why she ever allowed him to join…

The lies they've tried so hard to build up (a desperate hope that could never survive) are crumbling to dust now, because Mom found the watch and it's only a matter of time until she knows everything.

(He can't take it can't take it can't take it he only wants to make her smile that's all he's ever wanted, and maybe it's selfish or selfless and maybe he doesn't even know right from wrong or up from down anymore, but he knows this is his mother and all he can ever do is kill her again and again because these hands are made only for destruction.)

He wants to embrace her, pull her away from the truth, because maybe there's still time and maybe we can be convincing enough and maybe if they're very, very lucky, just this once, the universe will pity them and they can stop their lives from ever spiraling out of control.

(Maybe she won't die.)

He knows it's too much to wish for, knows it all as the watch slips through his mother's fingers and falls to the floor, loud in the silence of the bedroom. Edward goes forward carefully, slowly, and picks it up (don't forget don't ever forget the day you burnt away your childhood forever) before forcing himself to turn to his mother.

He's faced down chimeras and Homunculi and serial killers, but he's never felt so terrified as he does now. He's had limbs ripped off and metal wired in their place and has been torn apart by his enemies, but that's next to nothing compared to the pain he's feeling when faced with his (perfect, beautiful, dying) mother.

This is it, and there's no going back.

"Mom…"

Her wide eyes (filling with tears—it's all his fault) snap to him, tear themselves away from Alphonse. And Edward realizes, suddenly, that she must be thinking that Al is the State Alchemist, Al is the one who has sold his soul to the dogs that lead this country, because isn't he the one wearing full metal? Even if he cannot remove her pain, even if he cannot make her forget everything she is about to know…hopefully, he can lessen the agony, if only a bit.

(Her baby boy is still free, is still unfettered and unbound to that damned military. No matter how good of a fighter he is, no matter how well he can argue when you hit the right nerve, Al is far too gentle for fighting and killing and dying.)

(Edward can't do much for his mother, not anymore…but he can do this.)

"It's—it's me, Mom," he mutters, looking with difficulty into her watering eyes. "Not Al…I'm Fullmetal…"

He's hoping to see some sort of relief in her gaze, something to tell him this is going to be all right, because he'll be fine as long as she is… But the horror is still there, permeating every atom in the room, and it's almost as if the Rockbells have left, because Ed sure as hell doesn't notice them now.

(Surely, they realize why he joined the military. Surely, after everything he's told them, they know that he has to make this right… Surely, they understand why he must do this.)

(But neither Granny nor Auntie Rockbell jumps to help him with the words he can't say, and he knows they're on their own in this.)

("Not my place to tell your mother anything." He knows it's true, but the eloquence he's always lacked is mocking him from just out of reach.)

It's irrational and stupid and doomed from the start, but Ed can't help but backpedal, allow his mind to race through every escape route. Some State Alchemists—Tucker, Marcoh—joined the military purely for research. "Fullmetal" is his title because he specializes in metal transmutations. He's never had to fight, never been to war—don't worry, Mom…

But these crumble apart in his mind even before they've properly been formed, because he just can't take it anymore. These lies, this deceit and this deadly game of pretend…they're tearing him apart at the seams. It hasn't even been two days since they arrived; they haven't even spent two days with their mother…

But he's already prepared to break down.

"Edward…?" His mother's voice cracks, and as he snaps himself back to reality, looks up into her watering eyes…

This is impossible. He just—he can't—

"It's—it's a really long story," he mutters, throwing his gaze to the ground to avoid the agony in hers. "It's not—it's not really military. Just research, is all…"

He knows immediately that she doesn't believe him. While the story's logical—would satisfy anyone else—he's been too careless, too weak when it comes to his mother. He and Al have let too much slip, and it's only a matter of time before the floodgates open and she learns everything.

(It's inevitable, but somehow, he's still desperate to stop it, to save her from the horrors their lives have become. She doesn't deserve this—any of this—and God knows Edward doesn't deserve such a perfect mother.)

(He realizes suddenly—maybe that's why she was taken away.)

"Why do you keep lying to me?" Her voice is loud and desperate and choked with sobs. "I just—I want to help—just tell me what I've done to you so I can stop it! Please! Please…"

She thinks it's her fault. A thrill of horror burns through his stomach as he realizes—she's blaming herself because he's such a worthless excuse for a son…

He wants—needs—to make this better, to convince her (somehow—he's never had the right words to say) that she is so, so wrong…but he doesn't even know where to start. One glance at Al shows Ed that he is just as lost, just as scared…he can't see any way out of this…

Maybe she can stop everything from happening. Maybe she can cling to life, knowing what is in store for her sons if she does not. Maybe if they tell her everything…

But, God, not now.

It's childish and selfish and he despises himself for it, but he just can't. His mother—strong, capable, brave, wonderful, selfless Trisha Elric—is broken before him, tears falling freely from her pleading eyes as she looks between him and Al. She's desperate for answers, needs to know what happened… She will feel better, she thinks, if only she knows. She thinks she can prevent this Hell from ever destroying their lives…

But she can't even imagine. Ed knows she isn't prepared—can't possibly be prepared—for the truth she needs to hear.

If he refuses to tell her, though…who knows what horrors she will imagine…

(But how can he possibly make this better? His life is in pieces at their feet. He's been coping, has been carrying the burden of its brokenness for the last nine years…but this situation, these two days of miracles and damnation, have sent everything crashing down.)

(He doesn't think he'll be able to pick up all the pieces…not this time.)

He can't lie to her anymore, but he can't tell her the truth. It's an impossible choice: one of two answers that will both ruin his mother's life. They had wanted so desperately to see her again, to hear her voice, to feel her warm arms around them in a comforting embrace that promises everything will be okay…

But none of this is okay—could be considered even remotely okay—and somehow, Edward is sure that this is the worst moment he has ever faced in his life.

Tears are falling down his own cheeks, now; Al is heaving sobs next to him, unable to articulate anything else. (all your fault all your fault ALL YOUR FAULT) And Edward's mind is a mess of everything and nothing, of truth and lies, of dreams and reality and you deserve to be miserable forever, look how many people would be better off if you had never been born. His mind is a mess and his vision is blurred and everything is Mom Mom Mom and he needs to but he can't and he just can't do this anymore.

"Please…just…none of this is your fault…" It's the only thing he can think of to say, the most vital thing and the most truthful thing he's ever said to her, because his mother is perfect and he can't stand to think she's blaming herself for this. "I just…you have to believe me…"

It's the last coherent thought he has before he collapses, before Al catches him and their arms clang in a far-too-metallic way. He sees Auntie Rockbell talking with his mother, hears the way both of their voices shake as she slowly, firmly, leads his mother out of the room.

(He feels a sudden, irrational urge to pull her back, because what if she never returns and what if she dies earlier than she's supposed to? But they are already gone, across the hall, and Al's strong—trembling—hands are holding him up on the floor, and he doesn't stand a chance of chasing after her.)

Winry—small, young, innocent Winry—is confused, doesn't understand what's happening. Ed can make out her voice, shrill and terrified, wondering what the watch was and why Auntie Trisha is so upset…

Uncle Rockbell says something to Granny in an undertone, too faint for Ed to make out, and then he takes Winry by the hand and leads her to the stairs. The three of them are alone in the bedroom, now, and the silence is thick and heavy and unbearable. Al has not moved, is still grasping Ed's arm as if this physical contact will make everything right again…

Granny walks closer, and Ed can see her face contorted with grief like he has not seen in years. (You're ruining too many lives why are you so damn selfish) "I'm so sorry," she says, and everything none of them can say is conveyed in those three words alone. She embraces both of them tightly—embraces them as if doing so will keep their world from falling apart…and then she is gone, and the two of them are alone.

"Brother…"

Ed wants to sob, to scream, because the defeat so evident in Alphonse's voice is the worst thing he has ever heard. (There are so many of those tonight.) Al is his little brother; he's the one Ed swore to protect with his life…but how much has he fucked that up? He can't even count the times…

Everything is dying; everything is falling down around them, and even if Al is strong (stronger than Ed will ever be), neither of them can take much more of this. So he squeezes Al's unfeeling hand with his left, punches the breastplate with his right, and pretends he isn't declaring their own death sentence with as much bravado as he can muster—

"We'll—tell her tomorrow…sound good?"

(His voice cracks, but both of them pretend not to notice.)

Al makes a noise of agreement, shifts a few inches away so Ed can lie down properly. It's the beginning of the end, and both of them know it…any illusion of peace they have will be shattered beyond repair…

Everything is your fault. He's never been so sure of something in his life…he just wishes he knew how to fix it.

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Despite the fact that his body is still terribly sore, despite the fact that he can't even imagine leaving Al alone on a night like this, despite everything that has happened in the last two hours…he finally drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

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fastforward

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It's weird, Ed thinks, because Dad is here and he should be reassured by that, but all he feels is a continuous twisting in his gut that is slowly eating toward his mind.

Dad barely talked to him and Al last night, avoided their questioning gazes and hardly said anything at meals. Ed even got the feeling that he was avoiding everyone in the house, the way he had disappeared for hours…

(He asks Winry about it that morning, but she only gives him a tight smile and a "I'm sure he just has a lot to think about, is all. Don't worry about it.")

She's writing him off, and he knows this, but it's not like he has a better explanation. He has no idea why Dad would be so quiet, because from what Ed remembers when he was home, he never said much but he was always there.

Now, it feels like he isn't.

He wants to know but can't bring it up with anyone, because it would only upset Al, and Winry's already told him what she wants him to believe, and he doesn't know the Hugheses hardly at all…

And Dad has holed himself up in the kitchen with Roy and Armstrong, studying that circle and trying to reverse it, so he can't ask him directly. But he realizes, now, as much as he and Al so desperately want to go home…he wants to find the truth first. He knows everyone is lying, knows they're keeping something from them…and Al knows as well. (Late last night, alone in their makeshift bedroom, Al had hugged him tight and asked why nobody was telling the truth. Ed did not have an answer for him.)

They're lying and Ed doesn't know why—doesn't know what they're trying to hide. And he can't get answers from anyone here, because Dad had said not to disturb them in the kitchen even though he and Al could probably help, and no one else will tell the truth. So he realizes he has to find out another way…

It's nearing lunchtime, and while Dad and Roy and Armstrong are still locked in the kitchen, the rest of them are in the sitting room. Al's stomach is rumbling loudly, and he's sent several glances toward Ed and Winry, wanting food but unwilling to interrupt the Hugheses' conversation across the room. Finally, after one particularly loud grumble, Winry stands up from her place on the floor with Elysia and says—"Mister Hughes, could we go eat lunch? I'm getting really hungry…"

Al flushes but does not correct her. (Ed hasn't heard Winry's stomach at all—surely, she simply knows that Al doesn't want the attention. It's a very small thing, but one of those that Ed has always liked about her.)

"Sure!" Mister Hughes stands up, smiling brightly; his wife follows close behind and picks up Elysia. "Where do you want to go?"

Ed marks his page in the history book, standing up and grabbing Al's hand. "What's close? I want food now…"

Winry and the Hugheses laugh, and Al squeezes his hand appreciatively. Ed knows he's always had a big appetite, but somehow, Al is able to eat even more most of the time.

(Mom always calls them "her little monsters"… He wonders suddenly if she still says that, or if she's decided they're too old.)

(Ed likes it when she calls them that, though…"her little man," of course, is a close second, because even if he's only five, it makes him feel grown-up and important. He really hopes the nicknames haven't been dropped…)

Mister Hughes suggests a diner that's only a few blocks away—in a much less populated part of the city—and everyone agrees. Ed grins and makes his way toward the kitchen, tugging Al behind him—Dad will have to come with them, he can't miss food—

But Mister Hughes catches him by the shoulder, looking apologetic. "Sorry, I'm not sure your dad will want to come. He's like you when it comes to alchemy—doesn't like to be interrupted."

Ed wonders briefly how Mister Hughes knows this about him—whether Dad or Winry mentioned it at some point—but he doesn't have time to wonder. Al is pulling him toward the kitchen door, looking worried, and talking to Mister Hughes—"But Dad can't miss lunch! Can't they just keep going after—?"

Suddenly, the lock clicks, and Roy opens the door, looking utterly disheveled. He runs his fingers through his hair distractedly as he looks toward Mister Hughes—"What's going on?"

"We were all going to grab some lunch," he says quickly, waving a hand. "Nothing for you to worry about. Any progress? Will we be able to send these rascals home soon?" He ruffles Al's hair affectionately, and Ed finds himself grinning even as Al squeaks in surprise. Mister Hughes seems like an awesome Dad…

(Not quite as awesome as their own Dad, of course, because their Dad is the smartest person in the world.)

Roy's gaze shifts down to Ed and Al, and the smile he gives them seems genuine, if a little unsure. "Your father's making some good progress. It's really amazing—I'm not even sure I could activate the array you used. You're really geniuses, aren't you?"

Ed feels his chest puff out, even as Al's face reddens and Winry laughs. "That's what Mom says!"

(And, of course, Mom is always right.)

Roy smiles at them for another moment before turning to talk to Mister Hughes again—"Go ahead—we'll eat when we're finished. Hohenheim seems pretty optimistic—we might be able to fix this by tonight, if we're lucky."

Al makes a pleased sound next to him, but Ed knows this means he doesn't have much time to figure out what's happened. He wants to know for himself, of course, but it's also for Mom, because that was their original goal, right? See the future to show Mom that everything will turn out okay. And this bizarre trip to the future has been interesting—fun, even, now that Winry and Dad are here—but they still don't know what's happened and what he can tell Mom to make her happy again.

(If only Dad would tell them when he comes home…that, definitely, will make her feel better.)

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It's on their way to the diner that he comes up with a plan.

There's a phone box, big and red, on the side of the road, down a quiet side street right before they arrive at the restaurant. He wouldn't have recognized it for what it was had he not remembered the single public phone in Resembool, down at the train station…he barely acknowledges this one, only realizing what it is after they are already several steps past…

But all that matters is that he does, and he knows he can use it to get answers…or at least, to talk to Mom. (He'll have to sneak Al out later so he can talk to her, too.)

They've arrived at the restaurant, now, and a nice lady with long red hair seats them near the back. Ed glances at the menu she gave him—it's large and paper and different than the adults', which he finds strange but doesn't question—before quickly deciding to order a bowl of spaghetti.

"Is there a bathroom?" he asks Mrs. Hughes, wiggling in his seat. "I gotta go potty…"

Al sighs resignedly, rolling his eyes. "Brother, you always have to go…"

Ed sticks his tongue out at him before turning back to the Hugheses, trying to look as innocent as possible. Mom can usually tell when he's acting, but since these people don't know him as well—

Mister Hughes laughs at their antics and stands up. "I'll take you—we'll be back in a second, guys, okay?"

"Nooo," he whines, because Mister Hughes will never let him go use the phone box, and this is probably the only chance he'll have. "I can go by myself! I'm grown-up enough!"

Mister Hughes raises an eyebrow, looking at him levelly for a second. Ed does his best to look like he really, really has to go potty (the annoyance at being escorted is entirely real), because if he doesn't do this, he'll never find out what they came here to learn.

(He only wants to make Mom smile. And he's sure that this is the way to do it.)

"If you're sure," Mister Hughes says finally, sitting back down and looking amused. "It's over there—just make sure you don't go into the ladies' room by accident, all right?"

He points to the opposite side of the restaurant, and Ed nods quickly, jumping off his seat and hurrying in that direction.

(So focused on the daring task he's about to complete, he misses the way both Al and Winry watch him go, confusion on their faces.)

Once he's far enough away, he sneaks toward the front door, hoping none of them will see…and once he gets there, he shoves his way through and takes off down the street.

His heart is going fast and his palms are all sweaty because he can barely believe he actually did that. Thinking up a ridiculous plan out of nowhere and actually carrying it out are two very different things, and he realizes that this is the most excited he's been in a very long time.

(This feeling is wonderful, of not being told what to do, of not having an adult to always stand next to him, of being entirely on his own. He can't wait to do this again, because it's just so much fun!)

He finds the phone box quickly, nearly shaking as he lets himself inside and shuts the door. He has to stand on his tip-toes to reach, but he puts in the pocket change Mom gave him for the week, pulls down the phone, and reaches for the numbers.

He has to hesitate, though, because he knows his house number, but didn't Mrs. Hughes say something about "long-distance"? He knows he's heard that before—something about when he and Al and Winry went to East City with Uncle Rockbell for a few days…

That was only a couple of months ago…they had been eager to call Mom then, and Uncle Rockbell had laughed, told them to put in three numbers before their house's.

Eight…five…one…

It's all rushing through his mind as his finger spins around the dial quickly. He's sure that was it…eight for how many people are in his family and the Rockbells'…five for how old he is…one for Mom is number one…

He sits back on his heels as soon as he finishes dialing, his gut squirming and his breath short and his mind full of I'm about to talk to Mom—

But nothing happens, not even a ring-ring like every other time he's made a call. There's only a clang as his coins come out of the machine, and a nice lady's voice says, "I'm sorry, the number you dialed is not available. Please hang up and try again."

He slowly reaches up for his money, absently pushes the receiver down, holds the phone limply in his right hand. He's not sure what's going on…he knows he got the number right, because it's one of the first things he and Al had to memorize in case they got lost. But why isn't it working?

He tries it again to be sure, but the results are the same—the coins clanging loudly in the silence of the booth, and the lady's voice telling him he can't talk to Mom.

(Even the machine is turning against him…he doesn't think this is a bad thing to do…he only wants to hear her voice again…)

But for some reason, he can't call home—he can't talk to his mother like he so desperately needs to. But he's not just going to give up; he painstakingly dials in the 8-5-1 again, and then puts in what he hopes is Winry's phone.

(He's only had to call it a few times, but he remembers lots of things really well, so hopefully this is right, too.)

He's scared as he waits for the line to connect, terrified that it won't work…but the machine doesn't spit his coins back out, and the lady's voice is silent, and he heaves a huge sigh of relief as a loud ringing comes from the earpiece. Finally, something's right…

"Rockbell Automail—Pinako speaking."

He jumps harshly, because he recognizes the voice as Granny's but it's so different. Her voice has always been rough—Mom says it's because she's smoked her pipe since Uncle Rockbell was little—but now it's even more gravelly.

(The fact that it's definitely Granny, though…the fact that he's actually going to get some answers…a thrill of excitement burns through his stomach, and he can't help but smile widely.)

"Hello?" Granny says, a bit louder this time, and Ed realizes he hasn't responded.

"Granny?"

She doesn't say anything for several seconds; Ed feels the grin slip off his face as he scuffs his shoe on the ground. "Granny, you okay?"

"Ed? Is that you?"

(He can't tell what she's feeling, not over the phone…it's not the cheerful Granny he sees on occasion, nor the stern Granny that she is most of the time, nor the angry Granny she becomes when she's ready to tell them off…)

"Yeah," he says, suddenly unsure and scared. Is she gonna be mad? "I just wanted to call, 'cause I miss you and Mom and Auntie and Uncle Rockbell…only, our number didn't work…"

(It's strange, he thinks, that Granny is the one who picked up the phone. Usually, she's too busy working on automail, and Auntie Rockbell answers…)

"Well…I know your house's phone has been…having some trouble lately. The calls don't always go through." Granny's voice still sounds weird to Ed…he doesn't know what's wrong…

"Are you okay?" he asks after several seconds. Her explanation makes sense—especially since Central is so far away—but something is definitely off. "You sound…sad…"

(It's not the right word, but it's the best he can come up with right now.)

"Hm? No, I'm fine, Ed. It's just a surprise to hear from you, is all. Did Mister Hughes let you use his phone?"

How does she know where we're staying? But he realizes almost immediately—Roy must have found a way to call Mom, too, when he called Winry.

"I'm in a phone box," he says honestly, because Granny's the best at figuring out a lie. "So is Mom okay? I wanted to talk to her…"

There's a second's pause before Granny replies—"Yes, she's fine, dear. But I'm afraid she's out at the market right now with Winry's parents…"

"Oh…" His shoulders slump, because he had really been looking forward to talking with her. But if she's in town, there's not anything to do about it. "Tell her me and Al love her, 'kay? And Roy says they can fix us by tonight, so she'll have her us back really soon."

(He wonders at the fact that Granny called him "dear," because even if the old ladies in town like to call him and Al that—and pinch their cheeks, much to his chagrin—Granny never has. Maybe it's just because she's older, and you're supposed to say stuff like that when you get old. It's not important, so he writes it off quickly.)

"I'll tell her. She loves you two as well, all right?" Her voice cracks strangely in the middle, but Ed doesn't have time to ask why—"Now, you'd better get back to your brother and Winry. Don't want to worry them…"

"Oh! Dad's here too!" he says suddenly, brightening up, because surely that will reassure her that this will be fixed soon. "He's helping Roy with the array! But do you know why he's in Central? No one'll tell us…"

"Your father?" She sounds surprised—very surprised—and it's several seconds before she replies—"He—he just needed to talk to a couple of alchemists in Central. One about fire transmutations, I believe. That's a branch he hasn't studied yet…" She trails off for a moment before continuing—"Could you tell him something for me? I need to speak with him as soon as he's back in town."

"Okay!" Of course Dad is in Central for alchemy—he's the best alchemist in the world, after all. Why had he ever questioned it?

"Well, I'll talk to you later, I suppose," Granny says, and her voice is back to that same strange tone that Ed can't quite identify. "Don't leave the Hugheses waiting, all right?"

"Okay! Love you, Granny!"

There's a slight pause on the other end before she replies; he can hear a smile in her voice—"I love you too, Ed."

Ed's grinning brightly as he steps out of the phone box. Even if he couldn't talk to Mom, he still talked to Granny, and she said everything is okay. And Granny never lies—hates it when people lie—so he's excited to get back to Al and tell him the good news—

But as he looks up and down the street, he realizes that he has no idea which way will take him back to the restaurant.

He's always been bad at knowing where he is—Mom's laughed with him about it, saying he inherited that from her, while Al and Dad always seem to know where to go. But in Resembool, he's hardly ever gotten lost, because he's lived there all his life…

But Central is big and new and scary, and both ends of the street look exactly the same, and he doesn't have any idea of where to go…

He does his best not to panic as he looks down both ends of the street, nearly deciding to just pick one and hope he finds his way back… But then he sees the lady with the red hair from the restaurant, standing only a few feet away.

He breathes a huge sigh of relief and starts to walk toward her, because she had been really nice to him and Al when they sat down, and he's sure that she'll know her way back…

But she only stands there, a strange cross of surprise and satisfaction on her face, and says—"So you really are the pipsqueak, aren't you?"

He bristles on instinct, standing on his toes to try and look taller. "Shut up! I'm not little!"

(Mom always says not to say shut up, because it's not nice and he could hurt people's feelings…but he really, really doesn't like the smile that's spreading over her face.)

"Oh, this is too perfect!" she crows, throwing her hands into the air and walking toward him. (He takes several steps back.) "How old are you? Three? Four?"

"I'm five," he says loudly, holding up that many fingers to prove his point. "Go away. I don't like you!"

"Nah, you wouldn't, would you?" The smile on her face is growing ever-wider, and he's backed up against a building now, and is she going to eat me or hurt me or—

This little adventure has turned from exciting to terrifying in the blink of an eye, and he wishes more than anything that Mom or Dad or even Mister Hughes was here to save him…but the only people on the street are him and the scary lady, and all he can do is stare with big eyes as she steps closer and closer—

"Leave him alone, Envy."

The voice is loud and commanding and totally unexpected; both Ed and the girl (Envy? That's a weird name) turn as a pretty lady with long black hair walks quickly toward them.

"Aw, you always spoil the fun," Envy says, her face falling as her arms go limp at her sides. "C'mon, you're so boring…"

"Shoo," the new lady says, waving a hand dismissively. (Her fingers are long and kind of pointy-looking…maybe that's what girls do in Central. Ed will never understand them.) "Go, or I'll call the military."

Envy sticks out her tongue at the both of them before running down the road, soon turning out of sight. "Are you all right, sweetie?" The nice lady squats down to talk to him, her eyebrows pulled down in concern. She's very tall, and she's wearing lots of clothes for the middle of the summer—her dress goes all the way up to her neck and all the way down to her toes.

"Yeah, thanks, lady," he says brightly, because he's not sure what would have happened if that Envy person hadn't stopped. (This is a stranger…but she saved him, so he can trust her, right? But just to be sure—) "What's your name?"

She laughs—it's different than Mom's or Mrs. Hughes', but he can't put his finger on why—and says, "I'm Solaris. And what's yours, young man?"

He stands up a little straighter—someone else realizes that he's almost a grown-up! "I'm Ed."

"All right, Ed, we'd better get you back to your parents." She stands up, offering him her hand and looking up and down the street. "Do you know where they are?"

"Uh…we were at a restaurant," he says, not sure how much that will help. "It was really bright, and that Envy girl was working there…"

(He still gets shivers thinking about the smile on her face, but Solaris is here now, and she'll protect him until he finds his way back to Al and Winry and the Hugheses. He doesn't have to worry.)

"I think I know what you're talking about," she says, nodding. "They have excellent spaghetti there. Have you had it?"

They continue talking as she leads him down the street, turning and walking toward the restaurant. She's mostly asking questions about his family, what they're like, what's happening in his life right now…

"Mom's awesome!" he's saying, grinning up at Solaris as they continue walking. "I love her a lot—Al too—and we miss her, but everyone says we'll get to go home soon!"

"Hm? Does she not live in Central?"

"Nope, we live in Resembool…we got stuck here for a while, but it'll be okay!"

(He's still not sure whether the array he and Al activated will get them in trouble, so even though he trusts Solaris, he doesn't tell her about that part. It's almost the truth, anyway…so it's not really a lie, right?)

(Talking to Solaris is surprisingly easy. It's not as if he's shy—he's the exact opposite, really—but somehow, talking to this complete stranger doesn't seem odd to him at all.)

"That's interesting…well, I hope you find your way home soon." (Something weird flashes through her eyes as he looks up at her, but he has no idea what it means.) "Your mother's a nice lady, then?"

"She's the best!" He tugs on her hand for emphasis as he looks around, finally spotting the restaurant he had been at. "There is it! Thanks Solaris, I gotta go back—"

But several things happen at the same time, in such quick succession that Ed can barely keep up; Solaris' grip on his hand tightens, painfully so; the door to the restaurant slams open, and Mister Hughes runs out, looking worried; a flash of red hair from around the corner makes Ed turn, and he's sure he sees Envy there before she is obscured by crackling red light—

"Ed! What are you doing out here?" Mister Hughes catches sight of him and quickly walks toward them. (Ed sees his eyes flash mistrustfully toward Solaris before he focuses on Ed again.) "We were so worried—"

He can only stare up at him, though, because what can he say? Mister Hughes will be upset if he tells the truth, because he shouldn't have gone outside—but he doesn't want to lie—

Before he can try to answer, though, someone steps out from where Envy had been—someone Ed has never seen before. He has long, dark green hair and he's wearing the weirdest outfit Ed has ever seen…

Mister Hughes turns toward this newcomer and says a very naughty word, pulling a small knife from nowhere and sending it flying toward him. The new man screams as it lands in his forehead; Ed doesn't know much about human anatomy, but he's pretty sure that isn't a good place to get hurt—

"Ed, get over here!" Mister Hughes says, and his voice is loud and scared and more commanding than Ed has ever heard it. "It's not safe—"

He tries to run forward, because even if he trusts Solaris he trusts Mister Hughes more. The green-haired man is pulling the knife out of his head and saying bad things, turning toward Mister Hughes—

But Solaris hasn't loosened her grip on his hand, and she twists his wrist painfully to keep him in place. She's leaning down toward him, now, and as he struggles, looks up, he sees Envy's horrifying grin on her face. He tugs desperately against her grasp, yelling for Mister Hughes, for Dad, for Al—

But her next words, whispered in his ear over Mister Hughes' continued shouts and the other man's enraged screams, stop him dead, stop the world dead, because they can't be right, she has to be lying—

"Your Mom's the best, huh? Too bad she's dead."