Pass the Parcel

"Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"I am."

"Alphonse Elric, brother of the aforementioned?"

"I am."

Mustang stared at the two boys, his expression blank. Nineteen now, they looked older. They had seen things no men of that age should have had to. Death, despair and war had made them older. Determination still lit their eyes, however.

"Edward Elric. Do you, under State Law, pass on the title of Fullmetal Alchemist and all the documents and ownership of the said title, to Alphonse Elric?"

Edward hesitated. He knew that in doing this, he was giving his brother a badge he would have to wear forever. An Alchemist title could be transferred only once, but Al had forced him into this. He'd said that "You shouldn't search further. I know you need Winry. I'll take the job, and you return to her. I'm not letting this go."

"Edward, I need an answer." Said Mustang.

Ed looked into his brother's eyes. Al nodded, once, unsmilingly. It was a mark of how well Al knew what lay before him that he was prepared to take the burden. "I agree to pass on all knowledge, information and techniques concerning the abilities, and the title of, the Fullmetal Alchemist, to Alphonse Elric." He said, still watching his brother.

Mustang turned to Al. "Alphonse Elric."
"Yes, Sir."

"Do you accept the title and responsibilities of the Fullmetal Alchemist? Will you become a hound of the military, and are you prepared to accept any order given from those above you?"

Al looked straight into Mustang's eyes. "Yes, Sir." He repeated.

Mustang stood up. He walked around his desk and stood face to face with Al. Al was an inch taller than Mustang. Then the Fuhrer sighed. "No more jokes about the Fullmetal Shrimp, I guess…" He said, handing over a silver wristwatch that Ed recognised as being his own.

"Elric brothers," Mustang said, "You are free to leave. Congratulations, Alphonse."

Al smiled.

"Thank you, sir."

Ed was on his own. He was in the train, going from East City. Last time he had gone this way, he'd been with Al and missing half his limbs.

Now, he looked down at his right arm with satisfaction. He had the original back, though it was much paler than the rest of him. Spending eternity in a mythical dungeon wasn't that great for complexion, evidently. His leg had also returned, feeling unnaturally light.

Finally, he arrived at the train station. Disembarking, he was greeted by the station porter, who was speaking into a megaphone.

He wandered up the path. He came to Risembool Town Centre, and dropped by Mrs. Winston's shop. She was stood carrying an armful of vegetables when she saw him.

"Edward?" She asked. He nodded, and smiled at her.

"Hello, Mrs. Winston."

"Oh Edward! You're back! Everyone was worried about you, it's been two years…" She paused, appraising him. "Oh my, you've grown taller."

"Heh, thanks." Ed chuckled. "Is Winry still living up at the old Cottage?"

"Yes, of course." The woman smiled at him. He'd only been gone two years, but she two looked older, different.

"How's Mr. Winston?" He asked. He'd always gotten on well with her husband.

"Oh. I thought I told you. He was in the same train as dear old Pinako. That's why I was asked to show the Fuhrer where her old house was." Her face fell. A sudden silence fell between them.

"Oh," Edward said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, dear. I know you didn't mean it like that." She turned away, and continued with what she was doing.

Edward turned. "Mrs. Winston." He said, not looking at her.

"Yes?" She said, turning.

"How is Winry coping?"

"She's doing fine, dear. I often go keep her company."

Edward sighed. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Winston. On my way, I'll go via the graveyard and pass on my respects to your late husband."

"Edward?" came her voice.

"Yes?" He said, turning his head very slightly.

"Thank you."

Ed was stood before a grave bearing the name "Andrew Winston" followed by a series of figures. Ed stared at the title for a long time, before bowing down. He held out a hand and a bunch of flowers appeared in it, in a brief flash.

Laying them carefully on Mr. Winston's grave, he realized that that was the first bit of Alchemy he'd performed in over seven years as a free man.

He continued up the path. After a while, he came to some ruins and stopped, outside them.

"Hey, mom." He whispered. Then he turned away and walked on.

Finally, he saw the cottage in the distance. There was a dog, old and with its once sleek black hair flecked with grey. Ed patted the dog, which sniffed his arm and leg eagerly, before he looked up.

The house was barely thirty meters away, but he dropped his briefcase where it was. Den looked up at him. Ed suddenly burst into an enormous grin and sprinted towards the house at full speed. There she was, the woman he loved, standing in the doorstep, eyes wide and holding a spanner which, upon a sadder time, she would have used to hit him with but now she cast aside. They ran to each other, and met in the middle, embracing. Winry wrapped her arms around him, and realized he was much taller than before. With an even greater jolt in her stomach, she felt the flesh of his arm through his coat – though, thanks to it having been unused, his right was considerably weaker than his left. However, she ignored this and intertwined her fingers in his hair, breathing in deeply his smell.

She stepped back and looked him in the eye. "It's over?" she asked.

"It's over." Edward said, grinning.