ABOARD THE MARY READE, currently clearing customs at Port Norman, Ranamuerte…

After being rousted out of bed and barricaded in the Captain's Mess for five hours, Captain Armstrong's mate stuck her head in and advised the Elric wedding party that the Captain had 'generously' agreed that Ms. Ai and Ms. Tricia and Mrs. Havoc would be permitted to take baby Izumi to the showers to clean and change the child. They would, of course, be under armed escort. "What the FUCK??" Jeanne-Marie Havoc exploded. "You pointin' rifles aroun' my gran'bebe? What—you t'ink our petite be a danger to dis rust bucket?"

Alphonse rose from his seat, his large, bony hands flexing an unspoken warning. "With all due respect to the Captain," he growled softly, "this is an outrage. We are paid passengers—" he glanced swiftly at Edward, who nodded, naming the absurd sum of cash that changed hands so that the Elrics could get out of US ahead of Envy, who most certainly would have brought the whole damned plane down and killed all the passengers if that meant he had a good chance of killing off his detested younger brothers—not to mention Teddy, Edwin and little Izumi. "We've covered our fare. We are documented, have all our passports and shots. We've done our best not to disturb the ladies on this ship. Everything was fine, right up until you forced us out of our cabins and locked us up." Two steps closer and the woman had to crane her neck slightly to hold eye contact. Generally his hazel-bronze eyes were mild and kindly, but they had narrowed in a manner that caused Ed and Teddy to exchange knowing glances and move unobtrusively to the farthest corners of the room. It took a lot of provocation to get Alphonse Elric riled up—and Captain Armstrong's antics had pushed him dangerously close to the edge. Edward was the combustible one—all noise and fury, always a hair's breadth away from explosion. But excitable as he was, Edward was far less dangerous than his younger brother when pushed beyond the limits of reason. Ed might shout and scream and curse and throw punches; Alphonse could simply snap an opponent's neck in half with his bare hands if he had to...not that he ever would....

"—so I want an explanation. Now. Before we get off this ship. And you're going to allow our womenfolk to use the showers, and if you want them escorted, then Mr. Havoc will gladly go with them. But there will be no guns. We aren't terrorists. You are in no danger—"

"You misunderstand the situation, Mr. Elric." A chilly voice from the doorway. Captain Armstrong had arrived to see why her orders had not been carried out. "This is for your protection. After Mr. Mustang's bit of prestidigitation this morning, nearly every native Ranamuertian on board this ship—and a few from Cuba and Haiti—determined that your family is trafficking in…well, let us say that old superstitions are slow to die out in the Caribbean."

Edward frowned. "Superstition? What the hell are you talking about?" He spun around and glared savagely at his lover. "And what the fuck were you doing last night, Shithead? How'd you get out of the bunk without waking me up?"

Roy's dark brows shot up in surprise. "I didn't. You had a death-lock on my ass with that metal hand of yours. I couldn't even roll over. Every time I moved, you just kept gripping tighter. If I'd tried to get out of the blankets you'd probably have torn my butt cheek off." He offered a sly grin to the captain. "Perhaps you'd like to inspect the bruises in private, Ma'am?" Edward socked him in the arm with a curse.

Armstrong was unimpressed. "A man in a blue uniform was seen coming up the companionway in the early hours. He spoke to our ship's cook, saluted her, and then he walked straight through her and vanished. He was dressed like a soldier and was carrying a gun at his hip. Milagra was frightened so badly she required medical treatment for her blood pressure. She identified the man as Mr. Mustang." Icy eyes regarded Taisa without sympathy. "When there was no breakfast, our mate came down to look for Milagra, who told us all what happened. When we rounded you up, we found you in bed with Mr. Elric. When we searched your belongings—" she waved off their shouts of protest---"which is my right, as Captain of this ship—we found no uniform."

Edward rolled his eyes impatiently. "And you actually believe this bullcrap? It's not scientific. Bisexuality? Hell, I can believe that. But not bilocation."

"You forget where you are, sir. The legends of Eyes-Of-Gold are still told to children in these island."

"Eyes-Of-Gold, si, " the mate nodded. "The sorcerer from The Other Side of the Sky, with hair and eyes of burning gold, the one who mastered the use of every venomous plant and animal, who taught the Ranamuertians how to lick the milky sap from the toad's glands to excite the passions. The one who made the Vision Stone high in his mountain lair where he would gaze night after night into the Mirror of the Worlds in search of his lost children, drunk on strange brews and howling in languages never heard before---"

At this, the entire Elric clan burst into hearty whoops of derisive laughter. "And you actually believe that shit?" Ed snickered, as Alphonse wiped his eyes and Teddy and Edwin leaned against one another for support. "Mustang—practicing voodoo? And some old fart gets drunk and crazy on vision vine and toad venom and you make him out to be a saint? Geez….and traveling between the worlds? You people better lay off the frog smoothies. It's fucked your logic all to hell, lady!"

Armstrong slammed the door behind her. Edward turned to his family. "We're fucked," he told them, all traces of amusement gone from his fierce expression.

PORT NORMAN, ISLAND OF RANAMUERTE

"Do you have anything to declare?" the customs agent wanted to know.

"Yeah. Captain Armstrong is a first class b—"

Roy slapped his hand firmly over Edward's mouth. "Nothing, sir," he answered cheerfully. They were the last ones out of the terminal, which opened out onto the brand new Port Norman Tourist Center. The meteoric rise in the island's economy was the direct result of the legalization of gay marriage plus the jet setters swooping in to sample the aphrodisiac qualities of Paninya's frog smoothies at La Grenouille. What had been a seedy little backwater eco-tourist haven now earned three stars in Guide Michelin.

The frog motif was everywhere—they even decorated the flush handles of the urinals in the customs house men's room. There was an exhibit of live cane toads in a custom crafted terrarium in the lobby and everywhere little speakers designed like poison dart frogs piped in digital audio files of frog music recorded above the jungle canopy.

On their way out, Edward stopped to ponder an exhibit of fossils dug out of the hills near the cave where the infamous Eyes-Of –Gold kept his Mirror of the Worlds. "Beelzebufo, the Devil Toad, was originally believed to originate in Madagascar," he read aloud to his lover. "'Large enough to have taken down hatchling dinosaurs, the Devil Toad measured nearly 20 inches long and weighed in at an estimated 15 pounds.'"

Roy calculated the width of the skeletal jaw, then measured his lover's head. "Large enough to take down a bean-sized State Alchemist, although that automail would have played hell with its digestion," he observed. "Easily tracked by the screws and bits of wire and empty Frito Pie wrappers in its odiferous droppings."

"Do you want an automail foot up your rectum, Shithead?"

"At least I'd feel it—as opposed to that sawed off little—"

"ROY!"

"—of yours. Let's get out of here." Hoisting his carry on over his shoulder, he headed off towards the entrance, not waiting for Edward to catch up.

Outside, the din was overwhelming. Shrieks, squawks and obscenities assaulted their ears. Edwin stood transfixed before some arcane artifact in the dead center of the plaza, every inch of which was covered by the largest flock of parrots Edward had ever seen. Blinding displays of gaudy plumage were fanning over what appeared to be some sort of statuary. Tourists were tossing grapes and bits of mango to the birds who snapped them up greedily and then squirted out puddles of guano that concealed much of the statue's head.

It was the life sized image of a man—a Caucasian man in Edwardian Era clothing. Tall and deep chested, he had hawkish features and rather mild looking eyes behind narrow, rectangular spectacles. His hair was bound up in a lengthy ponytail and a rather large specimen of bufo marinus squatted beside his feet like an obedient pup. Bolts of fire seemed to shoot out of his upraised hands. A plaque at the statue's base read "THE LEGENDARY 'EYES-OF-GOLD'" in five languages. A pile of offerings were laid at the statue's feet, obscured by shed feathers and driblets of bird shit.

Edward made a menacing gesture. "Shoo, damn it," he shouted to the flock. "This ain't a friggin' Jimmy Buffett concert."

Edwin was fascinated. "Eyes-Of-Gold?"

One corner of Edward's mouth crept up in an ironic grin as he patted the statue's foot. "Hi, Dad. We're back…"

At Guest's Services, Teddy was greeted by Paul Youngblood—former steward with American Airlines and now official Wedding Liaison for Hope Springs resort. "Oh, Miss Teddy! Such a pleasure to meet you again—and this is your little girl? Tres charmante! I must say, she does bear a teensy bit of resemblance to La Mustang." Actually, the resemblance was more than just a 'teensy bit'. When Paninya, the woman who ran the resort, spotted the baby she had given Teddy an odd, malicious grin before walking off and ignoring her altogether.

"Actually, she's adopted. Her birth mother is Taisa's younger cousin. She's in college now, but she was visiting in America on a student visa and brought home a little…souvenir. My husband Remy and I wanted to adopt anyway so we were glad to make her our little girl."

"Ohhh….that's so moving," Paul sighed theatrically, daubing at his eyes with his pristine pocket handkerchief. "Love prevails, my darlings—it always does. And now our darling Mr. Mustang and that dashing Mr. Edward are tying the knot this week! Now then," he turned to the receptionist, "let's get our Little Miss Elric-Havoc registered in the nursery so that we can provide you with sitter service or in house care as needed. Of course, that is included in your resort package as requested."

"Great. Izumi has her nanny and Grandmere along with us, but Jeanne-Marie is also looking after my nephew Edwin and as for Ms. Watanabe, well…she and my father….I-I want Ai-san to be able to spend some time with Daddy." While Alphonse hadn't come right out and admitted it, he and Ai were unquestionably interested in one another. Teddy wanted to encourage this—she adored Ai-san and felt that her father had never gotten over Winry's death a decade ago. There's enough love—and lust—in the air around here. Maybe it's contagious.

"Oh, what a lovely child!" A slim, dark haired nurse with a stunning angular face and violet eyes came forward, beaming at Teddy's daughter. "What's your name, precious?"

"Izumi," Teddy told the newcomer proudly. "She's here for her godfather's wedding."

"Well, isn't that wonderful. My name is Verity. Verity Greene. My little ones call me Nursie Greene. I've just come to join the daycare staff here at Hope Springs." A long, slender finger delicately stroked the baby's cheek. "I do hope you'll come and visit me, won't you, Izumi?"

Teddy warmed to the woman right away. "Absolutely. I'm sure you'll get along famously." She offered her hand. "I'm Teddy—Teddy Elric."

"Elric??" The lavender eyes dilated slightly. "I'm sure I've heard that name before."

"Ummm…my uncle's name's on the list outside in the lobby. He's marrying Izumi's godfather. Edward Elric and Roy Mustang. They've reserved the Bell Court Meditation Garden for Friday at sunset. We got here early so we can unwind—plus Roy's uncle is flying in from England and there's a nephew we've never met from Australia that's coming with him. So I suspect we'll be all over the place."

Nursie Greene nodded. "I look forward to meeting with Edward Elric—and his intended."

Back in his suite, Envy kicked off his nurse's shoes in disgust. He rapped smartly on the bathroom door. "Haven't you finished yet?" He was answered with a loud belch. "Don't leave any traces, Gluttony. Make sure you get every drop."

"She's too skinny!" the fat man wailed. "Can't I eat the babies? They've got more flavor. Envy, you promised you'd take me down to the nursery!"

"Change of plans," the shapeshifter replied, gazing out the window and watching the Hughes character dashing up the walkway to intercept what could only be Roy Mustang—at least, the Colonel of this stinking world. "The brat could be useful. Better go find yourself a buffet."

So…he was here now. Both brothers. Plus the reborn mother AND two brats. What a delicious scenario—to take them all down, right in Hohenheim's old lair. Now, if he could only get his hands on that alchemic keystone—that doorway would be open between the worlds forever. Eternity would be their hunting ground. "And one by one, I'll pick them all off on this side. Once every living drop of my father's blood has been wiped out, we'll start hunting back in Amestris again…"

AMESTRIS, PRESENT DAY

They took the price of the pizza out of Josh Tringham's ass.

He'd told his classmates he could prove that the ol' Tin Man himself, Edward Elric, had been the personal butt boy of the legendary Colonel Roy Mustang. Half the class had been nauseated—the other half had been downright intrigued. He told 'em it would cost them an extra large pizza from Gluttony's. Six weeks had passed and the generally cocky Tringham had been uncharacteristally closed-mouthed about the whole deal. "Look, dude," Jack Dorochet told him calmly before landing a punch that knocked the wind out of Tringham's belly, "you shot off yer mouth. You scarfed the pizza and you couldn't prove a damn thing. Do you blame us for wanting a piece of your hide?"

That's why, when he staggered home after soccer practice, he neglected to tell her mother that the whole team had been using his backside as their ball. "Fell down the stairs at Central Library, " he lied. "It's cool. Get me some aspirin, willya, Mom? I gotta get to the museum tonight."

"For your family. For your disciples. A way home."

Kneeling in the ashes of the hearth, Colonel Roy Mustang scrawled an array in the dirt. Smiling a little, he plucked a gold button from his jacket, a silver one from his coat-tail.

Tricia Elric never woke from her exhausted sleep, never felt the needle that gently pricked her fingertip, nor did she miss that drop of crimson that he caught on the stone's face. A quick jab and a drop of his own blood was dripped to blend with hers on the face of the stone, which was then laid in the heart of the array with the two buttons.

Once upon a time, months ago, he'd taken a hammer to Hoenheim's stone in sheer frustration. A splinter from that blow was laid upon the lazulite, the blood staining them both.

A little gold. A little more silver. Lazulite. The strange green stone shaped by Hoenheim of Light. Roy's blood…and Elric blood.

Roy's mother would have worn it with pride.

A tiny golden sphere of the sun, laced with horns of the moon in delicate silver, curled around a heavier silver setting for a large faceted stone of midnight blue, veined with gold and deep green. The bail was adorned with a triple spiral, like the one on Tricia Elric's array, the one he'd complained was too time consuming to draw in a hurry.

He touched it to the Portal Stone—and for an instant it went from shimmering and opaque to clear as green water. "All right," he nodded to the sleeping woman at his feet. "Your grandfather made the doorway. And now, I've made the key…"

The unveiling of the Array Stone, the one dredged out of Lake Armstrong, was this weekend. Today was Wednesday, and every moment Josh was not in school he was trotting behind Professor Cyrus "Dickless" Dickinson, project coordinator. This was all part of the special exhibit, "Mustang—The Man And His Times" sponsored by the State Museum of Alchemy. There were no Elrics or Mustangs left in Amestris, but the decendants of some of their companions were coming to the gala on Friday evening. The buzz around Central was that 90-something year old Elycia Hughes was being brought down as an honored guest, since Mustang had been her godfather. And your father was---he and Roy were—

No. Better not. It would only hurt the Hughes family. Weeks ago, Josh Tringham wouldn't have cared less. That was before he read that little note Zolf Kimblee had left in the fraternization pamphlet signed out to Roy Mustang, the one that threatened Roy with exposure if Roy didn't submit to him sexually. Josh found it absolutely repugnant that Mustang and Hughes had been threatened. Okay, so maybe they were sucking each other's dicks in school. Were they actually hurting anybody? Maybe it kept 'em from going nuts from the stress. Maybe they were homesick, scared of getting shot up in the Ishballan war. He'd wound up in the principal's office for counselling when he'd given his assigned report on The Crimson Alchemist , which opened with the words, "Zolf Kimblee was one evil fuck".

Josh had kept the note and the pamphet and pocketed the strange blue stone which he kept on a long leather bootlace around his neck. And every time he got close to the Portal Stone, the goddamned pendant hummed. Weird as shit. As if it was reacting to the Stone.

Tonight, Josh would be hosing down the stone, giving it a polishing rubdown with a chamois cloth and getting it ready to go on display. He got a wild idea—what would happen if the alchemic stone in the pendant touched the Portal stone? Would the great stone react? "Just for shits and giggles…might be fun to see what happens…."

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT, REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE

Once the Elric-Mustang wedding party checked into their rooms at Hope Springs at noon, Edward and Alphonse ordered their exhausted family to the table for a decent meal. "Room service for—lessee…" A quick head count brought the total from nine to twelve now that Hughes, Uncle Simon and Roy's nephew Nigel had met them in the lobby.

Ed had set up the living area of the Bridal Suite as their base of operations, since he knew damned well Roy would hold to the 'no ring/no schwing!" oath he'd forced Edward to take as punishment for his presumed dalliance with Heiderich's ghost. Truth be told, now that Roy's anger had cooled to annoyance he was beginning to regret holding Edward to this ridiculous vow of abstinence. He'd awakened in Ed's bunk aboard the Mary Reade that morning to find that Ed's erection had somehow gone on recon into the sacred territory of Roy's boxers. Skin to skin, heat to heat, and Ed looking damned suspicious. "It crawled in there by itself, honest!" he whispered angrily when Mustang pointed out that Ed's hard-on had invaded his fly and was pressed against his lover's belly with lustful intent. Ed swore that it was pure coincidence—then thrust his hands inside Roy's shorts to extricate the 'merry wanderer of the night', only to accidentally grab his mate's goodies instead. If Captain Armstrong hadn't pounded on the cabin door and ordered them into the Captain's Mess, they might have had to battle it out in the steamy confines of the ship's single shower. Roy's jeans had been uncomfortably tight in the crotch every since.

Glad as he was to see Uncle Simon and as intrigued as he was to meet his half-brother's son, all he was really interested in was in twisting that infuriating little bastard into a Tantric pretzel and reaming the living shit out of him. And quite frankly, he could have led his lover out to the Nude Lagoon and fucked him in broad daylight on the men's side of the beach—and the worst that could happen would have been getting sand up his crack.

"Beats the shit out of Paris," he muttered as his eyes swept over the fare on the room service menu. The City of Lights had better food, but at least here nobody was going to kick their asses out for slow dancing in the piano bar.

Having found a new victim in Dr. Nigel, Ed set about preening over his own brilliance while Alphonse's genuine warmth set the newcomer at ease. Jeanne-Marie was engaged in a lively discussion with Uncle Simon in French, while Teddy was circling Hughes like a lioness on Atkins.

Drawing him away from the rest of the family, she plopped down on the sofa and pointed at the marble topped coffee table. "Sit," she commanded. Hughes moved to join her on the sofa. She shook her head and indicated that he should perch on the chilly stone instead. When he began muttering in protest, she stood up, grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him forcibly down.

The sharp hiss of discomfort told her all she needed to know. "You. Me. After lunch. In private." Hughes gulped his scotch nervously and tried to force a smile as he agreed.

"All right—everybody to bed. Now. None of us got a decent night's rest last night. We'll meet for dinner at six."

"Speak for yourself. I'm heading for the Jacuzzi. Then I need to get my kimono to the cleaners for a good pressing. Looks like hell after being shoved into a suitcase at short notice when we left." Mustang protested.

Havoc grinned at his nephew in law. "Edwin and I are heading into Port Norman—Nigel, would you like to join us?"

"Sure, mate! Busted the earphones on me iPod. Want to see if I can replace 'em."

"I'll pass, dear boy. Fancy a stroll on the beach and a couple of cool gins on the patio." Simon waved away their inquiring looks with a smile.

Ai beamed shyly. "Jeanne-san has invited me to join her at the spa for a mud bath and a facial."

Jeanne-Marie flashed her eyes towards Uncle Simon. "Keeps the skin so smooth and glowing, non?"

"Not that you ladies need it," he replied gallantly.

"Izumi and I are going to find a hammock in the garden and rest and read a little," Alphonse shared. "Then we're going to get all the family laptops logged in to the local server."

"I've got some wedding plans to discuss with Paul---and Mays and I have some catching up to do." Teddy shot Hughes a warning glance that cautioned him against inviting himself along on Remy's excursion into Port Norman.

Ed waved them all off. "Whatever. And since I don't have any proper wedding attire I'll see what Paul can come up with."

"In your size? Probably a flower girl's dress—you might want to stop off by the salon and get some French braids—very flattering, I would imagine."

"Who the fuck are you calling a sawed-off, pipsqueak junior bridesmaid to an amoeba, you arrogant son of—" For once in his life, Edward glanced at the new face at the table and shut the hell up.

Teddy stretched across the table, offering her hand. "Welcome to the family, Nigel…."

"Put some more ice on it, mon. You swollen up like a damn buffo marinus." Paninya pulled out a bar rag and stuffed it full of cracked ice, tying it tight before passing it over to Paul. "What de hell did he punch you for? You try hittin' on Mister Little Man Elric or something? Nobody that crazy. Wish that Mustang come to his senses an' let Miss Paninya mix him up one o' her special frog smoothies—I get him so hard he don't care who suckin' his dick."

"Now, darling, let's not get ugly about this. It's my own fault, I suppose. It's just that we don't have any men's tuxes or suits anywhere close to his size. I merely made a tiny joke that perhaps one of our bridal gowns might come nearer to fitting someone of his stature should he be inclined to cross dress for the occasion."

"Whoaaa—you said that to Edo?" Teddy and Hughes had just entered La Grenouille at Mayland's suggestion. If Teddy was going to rip him a new one better to be in a public place where it probably wouldn't get to messy. Teddy had met Paul earlier when she informed him she was helping coordinate the details for the wedding, "since both of the grooms are a little short tempered right now."

She examined the bruise and shook her head sympathetically. "Don't let his looks fool you. Edo's about as butch in his own way as they come. He'd rip out his own intestines with a crochet hook before doing drag, and Roy's just as bad. Couldn't you find anything that fit?"

"Jamais!" Paul threw up his hands in despair. He did mention he has a coat—a red coat with a family crest, worn on special occasions…"

"Right. Our family was a sort of honor guard back in the 1800's in Europe—we wore crimson coats with a black crest, and since it's a hereditary honor guard and we were allegedly never released from service we still have the coats, passed from parent to child. If you could find some black pants and a shirt and shoes, maybe…?"

"That's about what we had decided on. Oh, and Mr. Mustang's kimono is being pressed—although he had a private consult with the tailor. Seems he may have something else in mind—a military uniform of some sort. In blue."

Teddy arranged her face as carefully as if she was seated at a table of Texas Hold 'Em. "His wedding. His business. All I have to do is hang onto the rings and keep them both from chickening out."

"By the way, your own togs will be pressed and ready for you by the morning. Mr. Edward may balk at wearing white lace and orange blossoms, but you are going to look tres charmante in that Victorian frock coat and cravat. Very dashing. You'll be fighting the dykes off with a stick, precious."

"Err---I'll stick to my Versace suit, thanks," Hughes stammered, snatching up one of the menus and scanning it. "Got anything without frog in it?"

"Are you kidding?"

Paninya shoved a chilled mug and a frosty bottle over to him. "Give this a try. It'll put the starch back in your little man, yeah…"

" 'Tree Frog Beer—It's Mean, 'Cause It's Green'. Clever, that."

"And I'll have another cola---over at that table." Teddy jerked her half-empty glass towards a secluded corner.

"Gimme five minutes—gotta send some up from vending." Again, Paninya shot her a cryptic smirk before walking away, guiding Paul by the elbow through the kitchen door. Teddy was just about to haul Mays over for a royal chewing out when a tall blonde woman joined them at the bar. "Excuse me," she said in a low, precise voice, "could you hand me one of those menus?"

"You're actually going to try one of those frog smoothies?" Mays wanted to know.

"Aren't you?" the stranger countered.

"Hell no!" he shuddered. "I've seen how they whip them up. Keep a big vat of frogs over in the corner. Pull out a handful, smash 'em flat with a brick, toss 'em in the blender and there you go."

"I never had a lick of morning sickness until Taisa told me about the drinks here. Had to eat half a tin of Altoids to keep from throwing up all night. Disgusting!"

The woman's cognac eyes studied the pair of them intently. "So you think there might be a violation of health regulations?"

Hughes' well-honed lawyer brain immediately kicked into gear.

"Depends. This isn't US territory. Not sure what Ranamuertian regs are."

"That aside, what about animal cruelty?" the woman insisted.

"Don't look at me, I'm sticking to Coke Zero," said Teddy.
"Actually," the woman clarified, "that's Croaka-Cola. With Splenda."

"GAAAAHHHHH! Ptui!" Diving off her bar stool, Teddy raced for the ladies' room, gagging uncontrollably.

"So much for our little tete a' tete, Ted-o," Hughes chuckled wickedly. "Thank you Madame. My ex lover and I were about to have a bit of a set-to and you just saved my backside—literally." He offered his hand with a charming grin. "Mayland Alexander Hughes, Attorney At Law."

She nodded. "Captain Leeza Hawkeye. I'm with the DEA."

"You getting married on Friday night? I have it ready Thursday afternoon. You leave it to me."

"Will you need any further measurements?"

Mr. Fu frowned over his glasses. "Many men marry here. Many ladies. Mr. Paul, he say, 'Mr. Fu, you leave the Hong Kong cosplay sweatshop. You come to paradise, make the brides look good, the men look even better.' Have five daughters up in our shop in Port Norman. You will look very fine on your wedding day. You want the hat, too? Run you fifteen dollars American."

"Yeah. What the hell. Go for it."

"Boots to fit—available from rental, same as the dress shirt and studs. And gloves. What size you wear?"

Roy dug into his pocket and produced a pair of worn Pyrotex gloves, a red salamander array painstakingly drawn on the back of each one. "Brought my own, actually."

Mr. Fu snatched them out of Mustang's hand and examined them carefully. "You have something in the finger tip, left ring finger."

"Oh?" Black brows arched a little in surprise. "Hadn't noticed."

"Haven't worn them, then. Very uncomfortable. What is it?"

Mustang shook the left glove over his open palm. A tiny disc of fine jade dropped into his hand, a gold alchemic glyph shining in its heart. "What the---??"

"Very fine specimen," Fu exclaimed, taking it carefully between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up to the light. "Translucent. Very nice. You didn't know that was in your glove?"

"The gloves were left to me by….my father. I've never worn them. Didn't know that was in there."

" You want to sell it? Could fetch very nice price on Ebay. I only take ten percent."

"No. In fact, I'll give it to my husband."

"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom, asshole?" Ed stepped out of the shower, furiously toweling off the ropes of sopping blonde hair that stuck to his back and shoulders. "Where's Al?"

"I told him we needed to talk privately. He's staying in my room tonight."

Ed looked suspicious. "You were the one who insisted—"

"Shut up. I'm serious. I have to talk—and you need to listen."

"Oh yeah? About what?"

"About this—" he flung a pair of Pyrotex gloves down on Ed's pillow, "—and this." The gloves were joined by a glowing, greenish slab of rock that Win-Sarah and her brother Alfons Heiderich Elric had prized out of the courtyard at the Battery Carriage House in Charleston where Envy, Gluttony—and the fetch of a long dead German rocket scientist---had all emerged into their lives again.

Ed paled under his sun-flushed skin. It had been weeks since they had made love, and having shared a bunk last night in near-chastity—did an accidental boxer invasion count against his promise? —he was aching now. In fact, he'd wasted a great deal of hot water trying to mask the sounds of his own groans and whimpers in case Alphonse had come back to the suite. He was spent and trembling with fatigue, although the intensity in his lover's eyes made his cock stir slightly with renewed interest. "Uh…okay. Go on. Talk, damn it."

"About the stone. About Heiderich. It's done. He probably kept you from either killing yourself or getting yourself killed. He got you and your brother back together—and when he sent you back to Amestris I got to hold you one last time. I've talked to him, using this---and he's a good person. Was. Hell, I don't know if he's a was or an is. Whatever. You're alive—and it's because of Alfons. I'm pissed I wasn't told—and you're still gonna have to talk this out with your brother to clear the air. But it's not an issue between us anymore. So much for the rock."

He wrapped the stone in a Hope Springs hand towel and laid it to one side, taking up his gloves. Ed began to shake his head slowly, biting hard on his lips to keep quiet as requested. "Edward….sit down. I have to do this—"

Ed's eyes widened as Taisa lit a candle, switched off the lights and locked the door. Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the right glove and began to inch his fingers inside the spark cloth. A small, fearful sound was bubbling up inside of Edward, something he could not suppress. "Taisa…please," he whispered urgently. "Don't do this…"

"I need you to be quiet. I have to do this."

"Taisa…Roy."

His lover froze and stared at him. "Yes. Precisely. I can't marry you if I don't know who the hell I am." Then he jammed the glove forcefully over his fingers, repeating the gesture on his other hand.

Last time he'd tried it he'd passed out, which Teddy and Jeanne-Marie had attributed to low blood sugar. He'd planned for it this time. He'd eaten properly, and the finger stick showed him cruising at a glucose altitude of around 107—well within normal tolerances.

There was a low, humming sound inside his head, just like before. He had dabbed on some of the Amestris cologne that was mixed up by the parfumier in Charleston from the intriguing scent that clung to the gloves…the Colonel's scent. My scent, he accepted, breathing slowly and deeply, letting the smoke-and-sandalwood aroma feed the receptive parts of his brain where his memories might yet be sleeping. What was it Teddy had told him during training? Grandfather told Edo that alchemists have a Gateway inside themselves—that we can open that Gate and find our way home again. He wanted to embrace the past—but the larger part of him was afraid he would never find his way back. "Let me touch you. I need to be anchored in the here-and-now. Take your shirt off."

Eyes closed, he felt his hands being guided, the gloved palms resting lightly upon his lover's chest, while Ed's hands curled around his wrists. "I'm here, Roy. Do what you've got to do."

It reminded him a little of anesthesia, only it was the rich smoky smell and not the sickly sweet chemicals that was lulling him down…down…down…

The world was red. Red walls. Red sheets. Shimmering, living gold stretched out before him. Gold and silver. Cold steel and hungry flesh and a heart that beat wildly against his chest as they embraced.

Smell of stale sweat in the air; cheap perfume…a bray of feminine laughter in the hallway. Coins—no, sens---had changed hands to insure they would not be disturbed. Just like the night before—he would be leaving to storm the Fuehrer's palace in two more days—and Fullmetal would go into the underground temple to battle Dante and the Homunculi.

Edward had cried out in pain as his lover's fingers softly brushed against his entrance. The Colonel had drawn back in alarm, shamed that he hadn't considered that Edward's eagerness in the office two days ago and his uninhibited lovemaking of the night before might have taken their toll on his inexperienced partner. It's all right…there's so much more we can do…

"…together…so much more…let me make it right. Let me make it good for you, Fullmetal…"

Closing his eyes, Edward wrapped his arms tightly around his lover, who seemed lost between the worlds. There was a fine film of sweat forming on his face, and beneath his skin Edward could detect a rising heat that reminded him sharply of his Colonel, whose pale flesh seemed fever-hot whenever he touched Ed's naked flesh. "Wh-where are you?" he begged, so afraid that Taisa's tentative hold on reality might snap at any given moment.

"In your arms…in Ranamuerte….and in Mrs. Christmas' brothel."

"Good God---can you actually…Roy…what can you…I mean, what—"

"I see you. Pulling away from me, because it hurts tonight…and I'm so sorry. I want to pleasure you…want to stroke and taste and smell your clean hair and rub my body against yours—anything to make it good for you…"

Edward squeezed his eyes tightly against the moisture that threatened to spill over and down his cheeks. Those were the memories he clung desperately to during that winter in Munich, when he sought the bliss and oblivion at the bottom of a bottle in hopes they would miraculously reveal some arcane clue that would reopen the Gate and send him back to the people he loved. "You did. You did. I couldn't wait to wrap my body around yours—god you smelled so good—"

"---you drank a little brandy before I got there, hoping it would make you relax, so it wouldn't hurt so much. Made your mouth so warm and sweet—"

"---I wanted you…ohhhh god…so goddamn much. Would have done it even if it hurt but you wouldn't let me---"

"—loved you too much to hurt you like that—wanted to save it for our last nights….wanted to be inside you, wouldn't risk it. You were curled so tight around my body---" Taisa's shirt was peeled from his sweating back and thrown aside as they slid down onto the bed together. "Your cock was so wet…dripping for me---"

"—like when I woke this morning," Ed moaned softly, hips churning slowly against Taisa's as his hands swept up and down along his lover's spine. "It was so good…you made me come so hard like that---"

"---I licked you clean….bathed you with my tongue…god, I can still taste you---" Gloved fingers, coarse as sandpaper, flicked lightly against his nipples, making Edward writhe in delight.

"---then I sucked you. I loved doing that. I still do…always will—"

"----I didn't want to die. I was so scared of dying. Of losing what I'd found. Losing us." Taisa began to shiver.

"Open your eyes, Roy. Now…come back, damn it—"

"—I never left." Taisa was gazing down into his lover's upturned face. "I…I needed to know. How it began. What it…what it was like for us. What I felt for you then."

Edward nodded gravely. "Now you know. You don't have to open that door again."

Taisa glanced down at the salamander arrays on the backs of his gloved hands. "And I don't think these gloves can hurt me anymore."

You could be dead wrong—but when did you ever admit to it? Ed shook his head, but tugged a blanket up to cover them both.

Mustang looked surprised. "You're going to let me share your bed again?"

"Yeah….yeah, guess so," Ed mumbled, wondering how he could gracefully slip back into the bathroom and tend to the headstrong part of his anatomy that was commanding his attention again.

"I'm hard for you."

Ed's mouth went dry. "Got the same damn problem."

Mustang mouth curled into a slow, hot grin. "I want to watch."

"What---this?" Ed pointed at the silent TV.

"No, moron. You."

"Oh. Isn't that--?"

"Not if we don't touch each other."

"Hmmmm."

"Well?"

"Welllll…….mmmmmmmm….pass me the gloves, will ya?"

"Kinky,aren't you, Fullmetal?"
"Shut up!"

….TO BE CONTINUED…..