"GENTLEMAN GHOST NOT SO GENTLEMANLY, ACCORDING TO SCIENTIST AND FANTASY AUTHOR EDWARD ELRIC"—Charleston News and Courier

kerBLAMMM!!! A size 9 Tony Lama cowgirl boot kicked in the bedroom door of Edward Elric, PhD at precisely 8:15 am. "Mornin', Toots!" she boomed cheerfully, slamming a heavy tray down on his bedside table. "Now," she flapped out a napkin and shoved it under his chin, completely ignoring the fact that he was still in his street clothes, profoundly hung over…and alone. "We got yer coffee—Sumatran, fresh ground and French pressed by Miz Ai. We got sausages. We got extra-crispy bacon. We got us a big ol' stack o' blueberry pancakes and real maple syrup and enough butter to clog your arteries. And we got a tall glass of frosty, hand squeezed orange juice. And I'm gonna sit right here and watch you eat every goddamn mouthful."

Ed cracked open one bleary eye and surveyed the breakfast tray with a shudder of disgust. "That's enough for two people, Jeanne."

"Right," she snapped. "An' one of 'em's been drove out with a broken heart, so you gonna eat his share an' yours."

"Why?"

She lit a Marlboro and blew the smoke right into his face. "'Cause you should never get yer ass kicked on an empty stomach. Dig in, you sonuvabitch, before I shoot ya where ya don't have wires."

"NOTED HOMOSEXUAL HUMANITARIAN AND AUTHOR DENIES BEING MOLLESTED BY GHOST' AT POPULAR INN"—USA Today

"If anybody can find him, petite, it will be Mays. He has a knack for such things, no? He will find our Taisa and then you shall sit down with him and he will listen to reason and come home to us again. Shhhh…hush now. No more tears. He will not leave us. Jamais! Even if he and N'onc Edo are fighting, he will come back.."

"Why the hell would he do that, Remy?"

Havoc placed a warm and wriggling bundle in her arms. "Our petite fleur Amestrianne. She is the child he and Edo can never make together, yet because of their love she came to be. And it may be that the love of this child will mend the hurts between them—and between you and Edo as well—ah, non! Not to cry, cherie…come here…shhhh…even this sorrow will pass…"

"I—I just don't understand it, Remy!" She fought to keep her voice low. "It's…incestuous! God! I can't imagine what's going through Daddy's mind right now!"

"Has he spoken of this to you?"

"No! He's not saying anything! That's what's got me scared. He's acting so goddamn calm and normal."

"Then," he ventured gently, "perhaps there is another way to look at this, non?" He nuzzled her soft brown hair, quietly judging if she was ready to hear what he had concluded. "If you had gone through the Gateway alone, if you had not found the Colonel…if the stone sealed fast and there was no hope of return, that would be a devastating loss, non? For you and I, we would long for one another, my Teddy. Let us say this happened, and you knew I was dead…and imagine if you were not so grown up. Say you were as young as you were in Berkeley. Alone…far from home…and one day you met a wise, spirited young man of your age with a great heart that he took such pains to keep hidden from the world. Say that you met him and was befriended…and he mentored you in alchemy. Sympathy might draw you closer…closer yet. He had lost much. You had lost everything. Who can say but that one day your hands might clasp and eyes might meet eyes with a new way of seeing…and sympathy might deepen into true affection—even love. What if that boy—" he drew a deep breath, "—was Edward Elric?"

A few minutes later he snuggled Izumi into the crib beside Gigi, tucking her in with a kiss before returning to her mother, who had not yet spoken until he wrapped his long body around her, tucking her head under his chin.

"I had the biggest crush on him when I was a little girl."

"I'm not surprised. He is quite lovable, your uncle, in spite of all he says to the contrary. Do you feel ashamed of that?"

She nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. "Embarrassed, maybe."

"Crushes are normal, yes. Young Edwin will listen to his Aunt Teddy when he is giving the finger to the rest of the world.."

"Edwin??? A crush on me??"

Havoc chuckled. "A tiny one. And I know it will resolve itself naturally and he will someday remember only how kind and supportive you were. And you and Edo—of all save your father, you love him best of the family, non?"

"Yes."

"And that is why I know you will not walk from him, any more than Taisa will walk from us. Love is stronger," he whispered softly in her ear, "than all of human stupidity…."

"DR. EDWARD ELRIC—THE MAN BEHIND THE 'GHOST RAPE' RUMORS"—New York Post

He was charming—oh, they had to give him points for that. Elegant and charming and—

"He's playing us," The Advocate's assistant photographer muttered between sips of mocha java. "He's good."

"Hollywood type. His brother's on speed dial to half the shoppers on Rodeo Drive. Handled that palimony suit for Colt Commando and his little twinkie."

"The one that played Skimbleshanks in the Cats revival? Pissy little piece of work, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but it sure put that planner of theirs on the map—say, whatever happened to that guy? Paul Whathisface, the steward from American Airlines?"

"Youngblood. Yeah, he's hooked up with this faboo resort –the one that old fraud McDonald died at, where that Jamaican lady is selling the frog smoothies—the ones that make your pee-pee hard as acrylic nails."

"Too awful, but she's divine, that Paninya. And now she's got this adorable little chapel in the rainforest where you can tie the knot legally. And Youngblood's set up offices on the island. I tell you, darling, this is the wave of the future."

Dermott consulted his digital light meter. "Remind me, ducks, what the hell we are doing on this dreary little speed bump on the road to civilization."

"Local color. Besides, there's some genuine queer history here. You heard about the scandal back in the 70's, back when this Elric got booted out of Berkeley for nailing this cute little piece of sushi named Mustang? Seems they've been together ever since, but it was La Mustang that told the tourists that Ms. Elric was getting topped in his sleep by some dead pirate or whatever.. We're to get the facts—if we can. Otherwise, it's just a bit of colorful kink, y'know?"

"Well, pet, they aren't coming out—literally or metaphorically."

Mayland Alexander Hughes knew how to work it. He grinned. A subtle toss of his head, one dark forelock tumbling into his brilliant green eyes. And he owned that Versace suit. "Seriously," he joked with the mob of reporters that had bubbled up out of nowhere and swarmed across Teddy's lawn like a colony of fire ants whose mound had been prodded with an unwary bare foot, "if everybody's erotic dreams were front page news, most of us would be…overexposed, so to speak. No, the simple truth is that a half dozen ghost chasers happened to get caught in the cross fires of a lover's spat, nothing more."

"If that's the case, where's Mr. Mustang?"

"Yeah! And where's Dr. Elric? Why won't he come out and talk to us?"

Hughes grin became a fraction tighter. "Mr. Mustang has business to attend to. As for the professor, he finds this whole mess disruptive to the routine of his family and respectfully requests everyone to go home ."

"Right—but what was he doing there?"

"Research for another fantasy novel." Ohhh, how the green eyes twinkled! "He's authored a very popular novel about alchemy published in Japan, you know. Fullmetal Alchemist was his way of creating a fantasy story woven around his boyhood in war-torn Europe. Who knows what stories he may be inspired to write about Charleston? Pirates are certainly en vogue this year. Now then," he gestured good naturedly towards the gate," I have a new born daughter in the house who is getting cranky from all the noise out here and a five year old who wishes she could ride her tricycle in the garden, only she can't come out until you all go home. Gracia? Honey? Maybe they'd like to take some pictures of the girls?"

"EXCLUSIVE! PHOTOS OF SECRET ELRIC FAMILY ENCLAVE ON SULLIVAN'S ISLAND"—People

"Well, damn." Ed shook his head and closed the upstairs window.

"Told you it would work. Now get your ass back here. I'm not done yellin' at you yet."

"Yes ma'am."

"SPECTRAL ASSAULT—FACT OR GAY FANTASY?"—Bill O'Reilly

The yard was swarming with parasites with cell phones and telephoto lenses. Taisa was gone. His great grandson had been caught throwing rocks at a priest with the cryptic name "Cornello Hunter", after said priest appeared out of the shadows in a different form—not a priest at all—grabbed him, bit his shoulder and purred, "Shall I kill you first, then fuck you? Or fuck you first, then kill you? You're a pretty boy, so you're going to be fucked…and you look like him, so you're going to die. I'll let you choose which way you want it." Edwin had kneed his assailant in the crotch and run like hell, right up until the cops caught him. God bless Jeanne-Marie for getting the child out of danger. Al and Win-Sara were looking after him—Fritz had not returned in three days, nor had he called. Presumably he was after Christine again, hoping to persuade her to return home. Teddy was worried sick about Taisa, and she and Hughes were already trying to track him down, Remy and Gracia helping every way they could.

The little ones—Elysia, Gigi and Izumi—responded to the tension in the air. Elysia became sulky and whined a lot. Gigi got colicky and Izumi seemed to be muttering to herself as if she hated being stuck in an infant's body when she wanted to rush in and do something.

…and then, there was Edward. "I love my brother," he said aloud. "My brother gave everything—even his life—to get me my body back."

"My brother is the most unselfish person in the world."

"There was nothing he didn't do to try to come home to me."

"He's been there for me since the day I was born."

"I love my brother."

"I would die for Ed."

As he jogged along the beach, long hair shoved under a hat, sunglasses on, looking as anonymous as a man of his fine looks could on a sunny beach in the late afternoon, he repeated those statements as a litany against the creeping cold inside him.

"Meine Liebe."

My face, almost. My body, though slimmer, not so strong. Not my hair or eyes. And you wanted him. You…touched. It was like you and the Colonel—like you and Taisa. Only he wasn't like Mustang. He was like **me**.

All those years they shared the same room, sometimes even the same bed. Sometimes he'd wake and find Ed curled up against him like a cat—that is, when he wasn't hogging the middle of the bed and all the covers. Did he….?

No. No. Ni-isan wasn't like that. Not once, ever, had Ed ever…tried something. Anything. However…there were nights when Ed lingered in the bathroom, emerging flushed and drowsy, maybe a little sweaty. He understood. He'd taken plenty of "long showers" himself, once he began maturing. They never talked about sex or self-gratification. Maybe if they had…would…he…?

"No," he decided, jamming his hands firmly in his pockets. "I love my brother. I love my brother, and this is not going to make a difference."

Which didn't explain why he hadn't lingered in a room alone with his brother in three days…

"YOU HEARD ABOUT THAT ELRIC GUY—THE ONE IN ALL THE PAPERS? THE CHARLESTON POLICE SAY HE'S A LOUSY DRIVER. YEAH. HE'S ALWAYS RUNNING INTO DEAD ENDS—BWAAAHAAAHAAAA!"

---COMEDY CENTRAL

Took them nearly a week to find him.

Only reason he was staying away was to avoid the press, he told himself. Soon as they left he'd head back, if only to get the rest of his clothes, hand in his resignation from the Elric Foundation, drop off the keys and kiss Izumi goodbye.

Scratch that. If he kissed Izumi, he'd never leave.

The weather was beautiful. He was not in any charging hurry. No sense just diving on a plane back to Tokyo—and besides, he'd have to go house hunting once he got there, so…

…so he sat in his suite at the airport hotel, perusing the online reservation sites—just comparing prices, you know. Maybe Fiji has better accommodations than New Zealand…or Greece—yes, that would be lovely around Easter…couldn't quite make up his mind. He was registered as Miyazaki Taisa from Koukura, Japan. A research chemist with a PhD and an expense account…and…

…and a goddamned motherfucking broken heart.

An attractive woman at the bar had been very forward, inviting him to her room with coos and fluttering lashes and implications of intense gratification. He almost fucked her, just for spite, but in the merciless light of the hallway her wide rouged mouth took on a cavernous look, like a greedy maw, ready to eat his cock, spit and then dive for his wallet. When she opened the door he kept right on walking until he reached the stairs, which he bounded up, two at a time, until he was safe in his suite again.

He almost called Teddy. She's…an Elric.

He almost called Hughes. He works for the Elrics.

He almost called Havoc. He's fucking an Elric.

Christ, wasn't there anybody in his life that wasn't tied to that goddamn family?

"Falman here."

"Hey. It's Mustang."

"Oh—hey! God, that's some circus going on. You holding up all right?"

"I'm fine—and I'm out of it. For good."

There was a long silence. "Sounds like you need a drink."

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Where?"

Pause. "The Falls. Here at the Embassy, over by the Airport."

They ended up in his suite with a bottle of sake and some fabulous tuna sashimi from Hiro's that Falman had picked up on the way in. They spoke about divorce—about how endings can turn even the sweetest of partners into total assholes. "My advise to you, my friend," Vito nodded sagely, "is go back and fight him. Punch him out, yell at him, whatever. If this is really the end, you'll need to get this off your chest or it will wreck any relationship you'll have in the future. And if it's not the end," he smiled a little into his sake cup, "you'll get it out of your system, get it off your chest…and probably have the best make-up sex of your life."

They met a few times that week, playing racquetball at Vito's club, chess at the hotel, an amazing lasagna Falman had learned from his second wife. Each time his new friend would say, 'let me see your knuckles….hmmm…haven't punched him out yet, have you?"

"Oh, fuck off," Mustang would mutter, with less and less heat. "When are you going to get off my case?"

"Soon as you get this over with."

"Why do you give a shit?"

Falman clapped him on the shoulder. "Damned if I know, but I hate to see a friend looking so miserable. Look, I know it's been crazy—and god knows that family's been dragged all over the media lately. But you miss them—especially Hughes and Teddy and Remy—even if you're still pissed off at Ed. And I know you miss the baby—what's her name again?"

"Izumi." Soft, tiny fingers curling around his thumb, the way she always hushed when he held her…he was the first one she smiled for—even before she smiled at Teddy, she smiled at me. Ed was so smug…damn him…

"I'm not saying you have to stay…but when the heat blows over, go down and call him out and settle it."

"Well….we'll see…"

He opened the door for Room Service and she pounced on him. "You shit!" she snarled, elbowing him in the gut before shoving him flat on his back on the sofa, jumping on him and pinning him with her hands and knees. "Get up and I'll fuckin' kill you."

A wide grin over her shoulder. "She means it, Cowboy."

Another smile and a twinkle of merry blue eyes. "C'est vrai, mon frére. Best to let the lady have her say." Havoc nodded to his accomplice. "Meanwhile, this splendid breakfast will undoubtedly be stone cold by the time she's done with him."

"Mmmm. Western omelet. Looks delicious. Hey, Cowboy—mind if we eat this? We're starving. We'll get you breakfast—" a stream of venomous profanity made him reconsider, "---er, lunch, when you and Teddy have finished your little…chat."

CHRISTMAS PLAY NARRATOR: "AND EBENEEZER SCROOGE HAD NO FURTHER INTERCOURSE WITH SPIRITS"

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST: "NO—BUT EDWARD ELRIC SURE DID!"

----NBC'S SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE

RISEMBOOL SOUTH, SULLIVAN'S ISLAND, OUTSIDE OF CHARLESTON

"Tell you what, Elysia—if Mom says it's all right, you can help me make some cookies for dessert. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Yah!"

In theory, it was a good way to distract the child, not to mention herself. If she sat around dwelling on the explosion that had rocked her family and split it to pieces she'd either start sobbing or start yelling at Uncle Edward, neither of which would mend the breach any faster. Hughes, goddess love him, must have been part blood hound, part paparazzi. "I think I know where Mustang's holed up. Lemme check it out, then you and me and Remy can flush him out and drag his sorry ass back here."

"Oh—kaaaay…..then what?"

"Welllll….I don't know….maybe we could lock 'em in the bedroom together…play 'em some Barry White cd's…candle light…satin sheets….what do you think?"

"I think if you locked them in the bedroom Edo would chew his way through the window screen, climb down the rose trellis and shove a cold metal foot up your rectum."

Hughes believed her. "Okay, so we go work on the Cowboy and see if you can talk some sense into him."

Hughes had borrowed the keys to Arlo, Teddy's fail-safe VW Microbus, and headed out towards the north side. In the meantime, she'd occupy herself playing Iron Chef with Elysia. "So," she inquired brightly, "you want raisins, pecans, cinnamon, chocolate chips, oatmeal AND peanut butter in the dough? Gonna be a little on the chunky side, isn't it?"

Gracia, breast feeding Gigi at the table, smiled over at her oldest child. "And we'll end up a little chunky if we eat too many of them when they're done. You can have one as soon as they're cool and one for dessert."

Teddy tasted the dough critically. "Hmmm….needs a shot of vanilla." She rummaged through her pantry for the bottle of Madagascar vanilla bourbon that she used for everyday baking, saving her fine Mexican vanilla for special desserts and ice cream. Someone—probably Ai-san—hadn't gotten the cap on securely, so that when she grabbed the little bottle it spilled all over her hands. Elysia fretted, but Teddy laughed it off. "Not to worry, sweetie—it smells so nice I'll just rub it into my hands like perfume." She briskly rubbed her hands and wrists together, then held them out to the child. "Mmmm…isn't that nice?"

"You smell yummy! Can I have some, too?"

Teddy held her wrists up to her face and inhaled deeply. From across the kitchen Gracia could see the color drain out of her friend's face—and then heat dramatically with a scarlet flush. "Teddy, what---"

"Where's Remy?" Teddy demanded abruptly.

Gracia was beginning to feel alarmed. "Out on the beach. I think he and Edwin are playing touch football."

"Get him. Hurry!" she managed to blurt our before her knees gave way.

A week before her surgery Edo had called her from San Francisco. "I'm moving in with Alphonse," he told her quietly. "Win-Sara and I are going to take care of him for awhile. Between the two of us I know we can pull your dad through. I'm not saying he's actively suicidal, but I've never seen him so listless and depressed. Your mother's death hit him hard, Kiddo."

"Hit me hard too." She felt selfish. Didn't Edo know what she was up against? Right now was when she needed her mother and sister the most. Even if everything went well and they got all of the tumor, she still had chemo to get through. God, she was so fucking sick of putting on her brave face, but it seemed wrong to demand that Win and Edo come all the way to the east coast to be with her when her father was in such a fragile state of mind.

"I know, Kiddo. And that's why I called. Roy and I have talked this over. I'm staying here, and he's moving in with you. He'll be there tomorrow."

"Edo, you can't do that!" she argued. "Roy doesn't—"

A familiar voice cut in. "—Roy most assuredly does, so don't argue. And don't worry about picking me up. I'll rent a car. I need to pick up a new rat cage at the pet store on the way in. You don't mind if Tesla comes with me?"

"Ah—of course not," she stuttered. "I'll get the guest room set up for you."

"Don't insult me," he snorted. "You've got a queen sized bed."

"Just make sure you've got enough blankets," Ed jibed. "He'll steal 'em right off you in the middle of the night and you'll freeze your ass off, selfish prick."

"Fuck you, Edward!"

There was an interval of stunned silence on Teddy's side of the phone. "You need me. And I need to be there for you. And no, you're not being selfish, so stop thinking that shit right now. You're not going to argue with me, are you?"

"No."

"Good. And on the way in I'll get us some Chinese, so don't worry about dinner. Mongolian beef, no mushrooms, right? You want pot stickers?" He was laughing softly now. "What was the old rule? 'Two for me, two for you—and two for that asshole, Hughes.' We'll just have to eat his share for him."

Which they did. The meal was brittle, joyless and seasoned with false smiles and stilted conversation. Teddy only picked at her supper before laying it aside and excusing herself. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm gonna take a shower."

That was where he found her, ten minutes later. She was huddled against the wall, hands pressed to her mouth, trying to choke off the sound of her sobbing. In spite of the steaming water she was shivering and unnaturally pale.

She didn't hear him slip behind the curtain, didn't know he was there until his arms slid tightly around her. She resisted, rigid with grief, but he refused to let her pull away, pressing her head gently against his chest, making soft, soothing sounds. "Teddy," he whispered in her ear, "don't you ever—EVER—tried to hide your pain from me again, do you hear me? You just hold onto me—I'm not going to let you fall. We'll get through this shit, but you're going to have to let me in, understand?"

Moments later she was down on her knees, vomiting up what seemed like everything she'd eaten since the day she was born. He knelt down beside her, letting her lean against him, supporting her, holding her head. When she was empty at last, he helped her rinse her mouth. He rubbed her briskly with a warm towel, wrapped her up in her robe and carried her to the bed. He slipped under the covers beside her and held her close, his thumb jabbing the remote control for her VCR. "I put on 'Mothra'."

She didn't even open her eyes. "I don't own a copy of 'Mothra'."

He pressed his lips against her feverish forehead. "You do now. And all the Godzilla movies—and I had to get 'Gamera'. I know you always loved your 'flying turtle movies'. Now then, the scene is Post Atomic Age Tokyo…"

She woke to the savory aroma of chicken broth with white miso and silken tofu. They shared a bowl plus a few steamed dumplings. After he cleared away the dishes, he suggested she go soak in a warm tub. "I'll give you a massage when you get out."

Warm lotion, fragrant with vanilla, trickled over her the backs of her shoulders. He straddled her hips, careful to keep his weight on his legs, bending down to work long tanned fingers into her flesh, searching out the tightness, coaxing her aching muscles to relax.

After a time, to her very great surprise, the fingers were replaced by his lips.

He silenced her protests with one simple question: "Don't you want me?"

She did, and it seemed like each time they embraced in those days before the surgery another layer of deep woven fear and grief began to unravel. Talk and argument only intensified her anxiety. The silent language of skin against skin, of shared breath and ecstasy, seemed more eloquent than any words of comfort he could have given her.

By the time Hughes arrived on Thursday she was laughing once more as they pulled him down under the covers to join them…

"Man…I have to ask ya…does it bother you that she remembers?"

Havoc looked surprised that Hughes even had to ask. "He made her happy years before we met, just as you did. You were both good lovers to her and better friends. Do you think I need to beat the shit out of the pair of you, for all the good you've done her? Would it make you feel any better? Or do you think Gracie-cher should yank out all of ma petite's hair because she shared your bed before you found your wife?"

"So how is she dealing with it?"

"Moi? I think she is relieved. She has the whole of her memory now. And she is quite certain that this happened because of her conversation with the Colonel—he felt it was quite unfair that Teddy suffered from unrequited love for Taisa for so long. He seemed to think if they fulfilled that longing that everything would settle down and Taisa would hold his proper place within her life—and it appears he was right." Remy bit down into another of Elysia's cookies, careful to school his expression. A bit too sweet for his taste, but he was damned if he was going to admit that to his friend, proud as Hughes was of his child. "And you have found him, non? Where has he been hiding himself?"

"Embassy Suites at the airport. Taisa's got a better friend than he knows in Falman. You know that cop who questioned Edwin the other night? What was his name…Breda, that's it. Anyway, he and Falman are old friends. Breda swung by to make sure nobody's bothered Edwin and Falman was with him. We got to talking and he told me that ol' Roy Rogers is one miserable son of a bitch, and he allowed as how it might not be a bad idea of the three of us went up to pay the Cowboy a visit and see if we can rope that Mustang and get him back in his home corral."

"Uncle? Uh…you okay?"

Edwin cautiously approached the small figure perched on the rocks of the jetty, well away down the beach from the thinned out crowd of gawking spectators that hung around the yard of the house on I'on Avenue. The heavy blond hair was shoved up under Aunt Teddy's brown fedora and long sleeves concealed his gloved hands. Beard shaved off, he looked so young it made Edwin uneasy. There's a lot of evil shit out there, son, Jeanne Marie had told him that night on the beach. This ain't no fantasy game. This ain't no Star Wars. Non! There is evil—and there's folks who fight on the angel's side and pay a damned high price for it. Two of the strongest I have ever met are your Papa Alphonse and Oncle Edouard. Believe me, you do not want to know how N'onc' Edo lost his arm and his leg. An' your Auntie Tee—she damn near as good. Dey give the whole of dere lives for dis, yeah. An' me and Remy, we fight de same damn battles but on a different playin' field. Dey wear dem red coats as sign of a pledge they made.

You mean there really is such a thing as magic and alchemy?

Oui, an' you damn well better choose which side you gonna stand on, De days o' you bein' an' ignorant little mushroom, growin' in de dark an' bein' fed bullshit—is over, cher. You ain't no goddamned Harry Potter, either. You ain't some fuckin' 'chosen one'. If you choose to become a Red Coat, you be a soldier. Ain't no glory, an' it could get you killed. Only thing you get out o' it is knowin' that when you look down at them babies in the crib, you know that you was the guard dog what chased away the robbers an' bit them in the ass. Yo' Aunt Tee wasn't much more older'n you when she took the Red Coat. She already been half kilt for it—but if you was to ask her to swear on the tits o' Isis if she regret it, she tell you 'non'. Dat's why Taisa an' me an' Remy study wit her and the old men—we love dis worl' and we want to do what we can, d'accord?

So—why doesn't everybody in the family know about this?

Shit, boy—took Taisa thirty years to believe Edouard. He had to see shit happen wid his own eyes. Now he as dedicated as de rest o' them. Hughes an' Gracia done seed it too, an' that Brosh feller. An' Auntie Win an' your grandpere Alfons—dey ain't in de fight but dey believe now. Dey believe 'cause of somethin' that happened to Aunt Tee, somethin' they can't explain away—but she gonna be the one to tell you 'bout that someday. So…I wan' you to think on dis, chile. Think hard. Den you go talk to ol' Edouard an' see what he say….

"She told you?" He didn't turn around.

"Yeah. Sorta."

"It was Teddy's place to tell you. She wanted to wait until you were a little older, a couple more years. Jeanne-Marie had no right."

"She said it was because of the man on the beach, the one who said he'd fuck me and kill me. Because he changed his shape."

"Hunter Cornello. Christ, what a farce." Edward turned weary eyes to his great-grand nephew and sighed. "His real name was Wilhelm. He calls himself Envy. He's my half brother—and he's not human. Neither was that fat fool with him—and for god's sake don't let them get their hands on you."

"Yeah. That's what Mrs. Havoc said. She said I wasn't Harry Potter and didn't know how to protect myself."

"Yeah. Sit," he gestured for Edwin to join him on the rocks. "Somebody opened up a can of whoop-ass. I'm just tryin' to get it back in the can. And before you ask, yeah—the ghost was real and no, it wasn't fucking me. That's what Taisa thought and he was wrong. That ghost was inside my brain and body, trying to find a way to tell me how a monster like Envy got loose in this world again. My husband," he sighed heavily, "is one pissy motherfucker sometimes."

"That ghost---was he…?"

"My lover? Once. Long ago, when I was so far from home and so homesick I thought I'd die from it. I suppose she told you that Alphonse and I weren't born in this place, right?" The boy nodded. "When we get back, I'll let you look at my arm and my leg. You'll see the technology is light years beyond what they have on this side of the Gateway. That world—that country. Amestris. Risembool. Our home is not another planet—it's a world that mirrors this one in a lot of ways. Your Aunt Teddy's seen it, has been there. Taisa's seen into it through a portal, and so have Mays, Gracia and Denny. There are people born here who look a lot like people in Amestris. When I last saw my brother, he was in the body of a ten year old boy. Alfons Heiderich was almost twenty. We…we didn't plan on loving one another…"

"But it happened, right?"

"Yes. I had loved Mustang on the other side—and I thought he'd been killed. I was so alone…Alfons was the kindest man—I think I would have thrown myself in the river and died of grief if he…if we…"

They sat in silence for a long time. Finally Edwin spoke aloud. "So he came to warn you, this Heiderich? And Uncle Taisa thought he was there to…I guess…take you away or something? That's messed up. Where is he now?"

Edward buried his face into his hands. "God, I wish I knew."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Edward studied the boy carefully, remembering his homophobic outburst at Thanksgiving. Maybe Jeanne-Marie was right—maybe the kid could deal with it. Hell, he'd been made a State Alchemist at an even younger age. Maybe the situation wasn't quite so shitty as it first appeared.

"Yeah." He smiled suddenly for the first time in days. "After supper, you and me and Alphonse and Teddy are going up to the office for a private talk. You bring your questions, we'll bring the ice cream and coffee. Deal?"

"Deal, sir." And I'm bringing my iPod to record this—just in case they try to deny it later….

BERKELEY, 1975

"Well…shit. No Godzilla tonight." The power snapped off at noon on the day before Thanksgiving, 1975. "You still got that Coleman lantern, Teddy?"

"Yeah. Thank god we had enough for the rent. But it's too chilly in here. We need to get some wood. Last thing we need is for Taisa to land right back in the hospital. And he's gonna be pissed that the phone and power have both been cut off. You know he's gonna think it's his fault."

It wasn't—but his health had been a priority. What started as a chill became a cough, then escalated into bronchitis. None of the over-the-counter crap had loosened the muck in his chest, so Teddy and Mays dug into their meager savings to get their roomie into the doctor's office—and the doctor had promptly slapped his ass into the hospital for three days. He was much improved but if he wasn't kept warm he could relapse—and unfortunately they couldn't afford it.

Nobody wanted to call home, and contacting Mrs. Miyazaki was out of the question—she'd haul her son back to Tokyo, and that was the last thing any of them wanted. Teddy and Mays had resorted to busking on the street corners in the evening with their guitars, which earned them enough to keep the roof over their heads—all the while trying to conceal from Mustang how dire their financial situation was.

"Ohhhkay," Teddy sighed. "We've got no food to speak of. No phone. No power. We got about ten bucks between us. What the hell do we do now, Hughes?"

"What else? We throw a party."

Pretty soon there were handmade flyers all over the campus advertising The Beggar's Banquet: Being For The Benefit of Roy Mustang, a rent party to assist 'three starving geniuses who will remember you in their wills if you turn up and cough over a few bucks". The part that really got their attention was in the fine print at the bottom. "Black Tie Optional—Aw Hell—Clothing Optional. BYOB—and bring one for us, too. And if you want anything other than ramen and oatmeal, you might wanna bring a couple of cans of soup or a box of macaroni and cheese to share—we're #$%ing STARVING!" Hughes had become something of a celebrity on campus for his radio show, not to mention the infamous picture of him that landed on the campus paper with him stark naked, tied up on the lawn of a certain frat house with a fake marijuana joint shoved up his butt and "KAPPAS ARE PUSSIES" scribbled over his bare buttocks in English and Kanji. Obviously, Mayland Alexander Hughes knew how to **party**.

By seven o'clock, the house was already crowded. Somebody from the theatre department brought a bunch of garbage bags stuffed with old costumes and make-up that was purloined from the warehouse. While some people stripped to their underwear, the majority plundered the playhouse loot and painted their faces. Hughes marched around in Elizabethan tights, a codpiece and WWII leather bomber jacket. Teddy looked dashing in a Victorian men's frock coat and trousers, while the robes from "The Arabian Nights" turned a Eurasian chemistry student into a prince, complete with bejeweled turban and a bottle of Boones Farm Strawberry Hill that might possibly have contained a genie.

There was a ramen eating contest, a joint-rolling contest and a game of Naked Twister that left one of the linebackers from the football team sincerely confused about his gender preference. A visit from the police sent everybody fanning out into the street, trailing feather boas and nun's habits behind them.

At 1:00am, Teddy counted up the donations. "All right—we can get the power back on tomorrow, but the phone'll have to wait. And we've got enough canned soup and beans to hold us till our next paychecks, plus enough wine to give us a last buzz before bedtime."

The bottle was about halfway past the label when Hughes got to looking serious. Finally he drained his glass at a gulp and reached for his guitar. "Hey," he said softly. "I wanna sing ya'll something."

You want to know how it will be
Me and her or you and me
You both sit there with your long hair flowing
Your eyes alive, your minds are still growing
Saying to me
What can we do now that we
Both love you, I love you too
But I don't really see
Why can't we go on as… three?

Teddy and Mustang got very, very quiet. Mays was staring at them, singing to them. Teddy's cheeks flushed. Taisa fixed his eyes on the flicker of candlelight that illuminated the cheap wine in his glass.

You are afraid, embarrassed too
No one has ever said such a thing to you
Your mother's ghost stands at your shoulder
Got a face like ice just a little bit colder
Saying to you
Can not do that it breaks all the rules
You learned in schools
But I don't really see
Why can't we go on as… three?

Taisa glanced up, meeting Hughes' eyes. Did Teddy know of the night three weeks ago when he had finally given in, when he and her lover had taken that one irrevocable step beyond hand jobs and blow jobs and playful groping—when Hughes had laid him down on hearth rug and guided his thick cock deep into Taisa's body, making him shiver and sweat and wail with pleasure so intense he thought his heart might stop?

Teddy glanced up, meeting Hughes' eyes. Did Mays know of those soft, curious kisses she'd shared with Mustang? He'd admitted he'd never kissed a girl before, and she'd leaned in…let her mouth brush tenderly against his…no hurry…nothing to fear. She made it clear she expected nothing of him—that she only wanted to give him pleasure. Recently the kisses had deepened and she felt his body responding. She wanted to sink to her knees, to take him into her mouth, not because she wanted to convert him or because she had anything to prove. He was beautiful. She cared deeply for him. She knew she wanted it—but unless he was just as willing she wouldn't dare jeopardize their friendship over sex.

You know we love each other-- it's plain to see
There's just one answer comes to me
Sister lover, some of you must know about water brothers
And in time maybe others
So you see… what we can do
If we try something new, that is if you're crazy too
And I don't really see why can't we go on as ... three?

I love you, Hughes told him.

I love you, Hughes told Teddy.

"…and I know," he added so softly, "that you love each other—maybe not in the same way…but it's there. I can feel it. And so," his voice was barely above a whisper now, "in my heart...there's no choice between you."

And then he opened his arms wide enough to embrace them both.

It could have been awkward. It should have been, but it wasn't. Somehow the three of them found their own rhythm. Mays felt a stinging behind his eyes, suspiciously like tears. To live and love in a world where we don't have to lose, where every choice is good for each of us…that's not reality. But maybe…just maybe we can find it together, here, for a while. God, he thought, drawing back, smiling a little as he watched them kiss each other, guiding Taisa's fingers just...so…watching Teddy reaching for him, watching them lie down together, her face so full of welcome, with utter acceptance of all that Taisa was. "God," he whispered as he watched them, one hand caressing Taisa's back, one hand stroking his own hardness, "God…you two…you're so beautiful together…"

And then…there were three…and any pleasures Mays had known before in the many beds he dallied in paled in comparison with this joining. He could hold them both—his arms and his heart were large enough. It was intoxicating. They had their own scent…their own delicious taste, especially when he buried his face between her thighs after Taisa had come inside her or when Mustang's agile tongue swirled and sucked at them both as she rode Hughes. What ever shy reluctance they might have had evaporated as they fell into bed in an exhausted tangle of arms and legs, trading drowsy kisses until he finally nestled them down, half draped across his chest. "I love you—and you," he murmured contentedly.

"I don't care if you did plan this," Mustang chuckled. "It worked. Love you, too."

"Ditto, gentlemen. G'night!"

NOW—ROOM 323, AIRPORT EMBASSY SUITES

From the Alchemic Journals of Taisa Roy Mustang—

Sure. It's easy as hell to walk away from the Elrics. Trouble is, you have to leave your heart with them. What was it Khalil Gibran said—that passage Teddy had read at her wedding?

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

I remember Barb reading those words over them and Ed's fingers tightening around mine. I remember going to Coconut Joe's after they had driven off. It was a live music night and there was a reggae band playing that Alphonse liked a lot. They were playing this old Bob Marley song that Winry used to play all the time:

Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you-ou-ou:"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right…"

Ed got out of his chair, held out his hand to me, right there in front of the band, God and two dozen drunken frat boys from the College of Charleston. I didn't hesitate. I stepped into his arms, smiled down at him and let him swing me around in a slow, romantic waltz up there on the roof, under the spring moon under the golden glow of the Corona signs.

"Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
'Cause every little thing—gonna be all right.."

The punches didn't start flying until I kissed him. I couldn't help myself—if you'd seen the way his eyes were glowing, how proud and happy he was to be dancing with me under the stars after seeing Teddy finally finding the love she deserved—hell, you'd have kissed him too. Somebody behind us muttered, "Jeeze, look at the fairies!"

"C'mere, Tinkerbell," he chuckled, grabbing the belt loops of my jeans and tugging me closer. "Damn, you look good."

"Fuckin' fruits!"

Ed ignored that crack and gave me a hot, evil grin. "Speaking of fruits…is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" A not so subtle thrust of the hips and I was hard as a rock.

"Damn—will you guys go get a room?" a third man complained. "You're doin' that in front of my girl friend."

Edo didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, and you've got your hand down the front of her shirt, groping her in public. We'll get a room if you will."

"Why, you sawed off little—"

That did it. The only thing that kept Ed from ripping the kid about five fresh assholes was the intervention of a beefy guy with red hair who looked powerful enough to bite the neck off his bottle of TurboDog. "Free country, kid," he told them. "Don't wanna see, then don't look. Least he's got his hands above the waist."

"Who the fuck are you?" the kid demanded belligerently.

"Heywood Breda. Officer Heywood Breda. So I'm tellin' you to play nice, got it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

Of course, as soon as the cop was gone the kids went after us. Wasn't much of a fight, really. Not when you compare it to the epic slugfest we had in Paris. A swift boot in the crotch with an automail knee behind it was all it took to drop the first punk. The one dumb enough to lunge at me got flipped over my shoulder, thanks to some clever moves I learned from Alphonse. "Need more?" I taunted.

Apparently they didn't, and Ed and I could have danced the rest of the night away. Instead we headed out for a secluded patch of dunes with a blanket, a bottle of champagne and some Watkins Apothecary Vanilla Shea Butter, which was a lot more fun than the Crisco Hughes and I used in college.

"I'd have killed him for you," Ed sighed afterwards. "But ditching bodies is such a bother."

Funny thing was—he meant it. This was a man who'd die for me, kill for me, even share his toothbrush with me—and if you had any idea how goddamn fussy Ed is, you'd know what a sacrifice that is.

I didn't want a fight on an empty stomach, so I rang for room service.

I opened the door, ready for a western omelet. What I got was an elbow in the gut and one hundred and (edited) plus pounds of raving Elric, who knocked me down, pounced on me, cursed me until her face was blue and then burst into furious tears. "God damn you, Mustang! Who the fuck do you think you are, just waltzing out of our lives like that?"

And then the three of them were there, holding me close, and the tears I'd been warding off with alcohol came welling up as Teddy, Mays and, yes, even Remy told me they loved me, couldn't stand for me to leave and that if I wouldn't go quietly, they'd knock me out, stuff me in a duffle bag, toss me in the trunk of May's Bentley and drag my sorry ass back to Risembool South.

All right. I didn't make any promises about getting back with Ed…but I'll try. But so help me Buddha, if he says one goddamned word about Heiderich, or if he starts trying to bullshit me again about what went on in Munich…I'll pull on those gloves, snap my fingers and set his ass on fire…and if the gloves don't work, there's always the Aim n' Flame….

…TO BE CONTINUED…