Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
- x -
Breda rubbed the back of his neck as he slung himself into the chair on the other side of her rather intimidating mahogany desk.
"I have bad news, then I have worse news. Then I have possibly the best worst news you've ever heard."
Colonel Riza Hawkeye didn't look up from the document she was perusing. He'd have just come right out and said if one of the brothers had died. It was still hard for her to think of them as 'brothers' instead of 'boys.' But then again, she thought of all of the officers that worked in the Major General's office, that were of the male persuasion, as boys.
These were all her boys, regardless of their ages. She, Maria, and Sheska had to take care of them, because they were completely incapable of taking care of themselves.
Adding Ed and Al back to that group would be unexpected, but not at all unpleasant.
So it was really more of a difficulty thinking of them as men instead of children.
Ed and Al would always be the children that never got to be. From the moment she'd seen him, Edward Elric had always behaved like an adult, and Alphonse had always been treated as one because of the armor. Now it was too late for both of them. They were truly grown. Alphonse, much more than Edward. He looked almost a decade older than he had when he'd left, he looked almost the same age Edward did.
Maybe going through the Gate . . . twice, now, since she'd last seen him, had somehow aged him? Maybe the age of his soul had caused his body to race to catch up?
"I'll take the best worst news first," she finally addressed the officer in front of her, glancing at the second page of the document. Breda wasn't really even looking at her, so she knew her split attention wasn't bothering him.
"One of Hakuro's boys works in the lab with Frettley, and spilled the origin of the thing to one of the goldcoats. Investigation has been turned over to the research division."
. . . rats.
Hawkeye let the document fall back to her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "What else?"
Breda pursed his lips. "Doc thinks what happened to Ed wasn't torture. Well, not meant to be," he amended. "He thinks someone that didn't know a damn thing about automail was trying to take it apart and see how it worked. End result is permanent damage to his busted up arm and leg stumps. He's been in surgery for about an hour now."
She realized she was pinching her nose too hard and brought her hand back to the desk. Helplessly watching him writhing on the floor, fighting with the pain, and then having that fit – she would gladly shoot the man or men that had done this to him. Repeatedly. In a non-fatal area. No matter if they hadn't meant to hurt him that badly. That news didn't make her feel any better.
It just made her feel sorrier for Edward. In the world beyond the Gate, there hadn't been automail, or at least that's what Sheska had told her. The uniform probably indicated a military or government institution, Ed had slipped up and they'd realized his arm and leg were automail, and they'd started trying to figure it out.
Oddly ironic, that after Alphonse ran around as a suit of empty armor for so many years, it was Edward that turned out to be the lab experiment.
Hawkeye shook her head quietly. "And the last?"
"Even with the, uh, 'ingredients' Mustang lent the Tringums, Al's still in pretty bad shape." Breda uncharacteristically hesitated. "Doc figures Al Elric should have bought the farm about twenty minutes after getting shot up like he did. Apparently the armor saved him. It was too tight a fit, him appearing inside it like that, and it cut off circulation and kept him from bleeding to death. Apparently it caused a few problems, though, clots and stuff. They're not sure he's gonna be all there when he wakes up."
It never quite worked out for these two, did it, she thought wearily. God knew they deserved something good to happen to them, but they just couldn't seem to catch a break. Had they come so far to stop here? Was this their limit?
If one died, the other would soon follow. Watching Al grow up – again – she knew it. If hope had been yanked away from that little boy, he would have dried up and disappeared. If Edward woke to find Al . . . like that . . .
She knew he'd never again consider making the Philosopher's Stone as an acceptable method of transmuting humans. They wouldn't have used one to get back here, either . . .
But what if . . . what if what they'd brought back was some kind of substitute? Some alternate form of the object they needed?
If the research division determined that, and alerted Parliament –
But at the same time, if Edward could use it to somehow repair Alphonse –
She shook her head. But of course, Ed didn't remember. He didn't remember where he'd been, or that Al had been with him. He probably had no better of an idea what that object was than they did. If Alphonse wasn't able to answer them, and Ed didn't remember . . .
What was it with that blasted Gate taking memories, anyway? First it had been Al's, now Ed's . . . was that some part of the 'Law of Conservation' alchemists kept babbling about?
Then again, considering what he'd been through, perhaps it was better that Ed didn't remember. It was probably bad enough that he'd suddenly found himself in a strange office, in unbearable agony, and heard the news that he might or might not have left Alphonse back in the Gate itself . . . and when he woke up, he could look forward to more pain, questions he couldn't answer, doubt . . .
Riza shook her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. And here she was, a colonel no less, worrying about it rather than acting to improve the situation. No, that was just unacceptable.
"Work with Sheska. Find out what that thing is, if it was ever in any of the Elrics' mission reports, any books anywhere. Search for it in relation to the Philosopher's Stone."
Breda's eyebrows shot up. "You don't think-"
They'd been wearing military uniforms. She would stake her career on it. And that meant war. And war meant death. Perhaps there had been a slaughter they could not prevent, and rather than let the lives be wasted, they'd somehow sealed them . . . in that thing. Even if it wasn't a true Philosopher's Stone, perhaps the device for containing it had been devised in this world.
At least they could confirm it before a certain major general did anything rash.
"I don't know what it is, but if it's anything that dangerous-"
Breda nodded. "And what if it is?"
What if it was indeed. By now it was in the research department's hands, and since the Parliament had been exercising a few more of their rights, military access to the research departments' results had changed. Once it was discovered to be some sort of massive power source, if that was truly what it was, it would eventually come right back to them. Unrest on the northern and eastern borders was getting out of hand, and Parliament responded far slower than the previous system of a single Fuhrer had. War was brewing for Amestris, thanks to the many decades of the Homunculus' attempts to keep them going.
The ripples from those plans would probably continue on long past her lifetime. Conflict was inevitable. What they needed to prevent would be the massive loss of lives a device like that could possibly cause. Or seal.
The last thing they needed was another intact Philosopher's Stone, or even the promise of one.
No matter what happened to Alphonse Elric.
"Then we'll need to figure that out before they do," she answered simply. "Use whatever means you need to. Come to me for privilege approvals if any are required."
"I thought I was the highest-ranked military official in this office," a sardonic voice murmured from the door.
"You would be the one that delays the longest in signing paperwork," she retorted, without missing a beat. "I won't allow that signature on anything that could later be used to incriminate you in any actions relating to this object."
"I wasn't aware I needed your permission, Colonel." His voice was cool.
Ah. He was in that mood. "Major, you have your orders."
Heymans Breda nodded, jumping out of the seat with a smart salute. "Keep it down, you two. The kids don't like it when mommy and daddy fight."
The major general didn't look too happy about the quip, but he allowed the major to leave without injuring him. Breda had the good sense to close the door behind him.
She expected him to start in immediately, but instead, the major general just strode purposefully across her office, stopping at the window beside her desk. It was possibly his favorite window in the building, besides the one in his own office that faced the same direction. It gave a brilliant view of Central, and if you stood a bit to the right, you could see the rebuilt shopping district.
She didn't have to look at him to know that was what had drawn his gaze.
"How are they?" She hadn't really meant to say it, but when she'd opened her mouth it had just popped out. It was probably the worst question she could have asked him, but it was obvious what was on his mind.
The Elric brothers. And his previous failures as far as they were concerned.
"They'll live." The same cool voice. He almost said more, but then fell silent again.
Hawkeye pushed her chair away from her desk, swiveling to face him. She wanted to join him by the window, but something about his rigid stance told her he was not comfortable enough in his own skin at the moment to allow that sort of impropriety.
He was here for guidance, but not that kind of guidance. He wanted reassurance, but not the kind she ached to offer.
Again, she wished wholeheartedly that she was Maes Hughes.
"I accepted the reinstatement four years ago," he began steadily, "because I thought I had been given another chance. I believed again that I could use my life to make things better."
Riza was quiet. He'd never discussed with her the reasons he had accepted reinstatement as an officer, or why he'd demoted himself in the first place. But both reasons weren't difficult to extrapolate. After Edward's apparent sacrifice to resurrect his brother Alphonse, Roy had undoubtedly felt as though he'd failed the boys. His recovery from his own injuries, his physical therapy, even the excursions she'd dragged him out on, they hadn't done much. Not enough to fill up that cavernous void that was his self-confidence.
His was the reasoning of an adult. He'd used the Elric brothers, Edward especially, initially as part of his schemes. He'd honestly cared for the boys, as he honestly cared for his subordinates. But he'd involved them, allowed them to search for the Philosopher's Stone, and failed to see what was directly in front of his face until it had taken both his best friend and the two children he'd wanted so badly to protect. All because of what he'd known about Laboratory Five. All because of his desire to become a person that no longer had to answer to unjust orders.
More had died in his quest to prevent meaningless death. His plan to become Fuhrer had failed, and the cost had been huge. To a man who believed in alchemy, in science, in 'equivalent exchange,' she didn't even want to know how he rationalized the events of those years. But however he had, she knew he had taken full responsibility. He had believed himself to be incompetent, at least in the attainment of his goals. He'd stopped using alchemy. Maybe he'd stopped believing in it altogether.
He'd lost his faith.
And she hadn't been able to bear seeing him like that.
But the Elric brothers had given it back to him, in a way. They fought literally impossible odds and managed to come out, if not unscathed, at least with their minds intact. They learned. They grew. And they never gave up. They gave him new resolve, even though Edward himself had only been back in Amestris maybe a few hours all told.
The enormous pressure from the Parliament in identifying a hero to rally the morale of the people after the massive destruction done Central had probably helped shove him in that direction. The solidarity his old subordinates had shown him probably helped as well. He was reinstated at his previous rank of Brigadier General, despite his actions against the country in the Northern Rebellion, and given whatever officers he requested to continue his service in the military.
And since then, things had pretty much proceeded exactly like they might have if the Elric brothers – and the Fuhrer – had never been. Promotion, securing the confidence of the Parliament and the military alike . . . his only real opponent was General Hakuro.
Who was, incidentally, the only other serious contender for the newly created position of Prime Minister.
Roy Mustang was literally this close to gaining what he had sought after the Ishbal slaughter.
He was this close to becoming the most powerful man in Amestris. The one that no longer had to take orders from anyone.
Only Hakuro stood in his way. And Parliament had seen in him the same thing the Fuhrer Bradley had seen. He was excellent at following orders, but not bright enough to do anything else. If the Parliament wanted to elect a figurehead, they were free to do so. Mustang, on the other hand, had a reputation for calm and cool analysis of a problem, followed by swift and resolute action to correct it. Because of the unrest on their borders, the Parliament was seriously considering electing someone that could actually lead Amestris effectively, rather than simply give the appearance of doing so.
The race was too close. If Hakuro was able to use the reappearance of the Elric brothers against the major general . . .
It was over. At least for the next five years, which had been the determined length of seat for the Prime Minister. And it was probable that General Hakuro, if put into that position, could effectively remove Mustang both from the military and political future of Amestris. He'd never quite forgiven the Colonel for fooling him so completely during the Northern Rebellion.
And if his attitude was caustic towards Mustang, it was nothing compared to the disdain with which he dealt with Jean. All of their careers were riding on Mustang being elected by the Parliament, or at least, Hakuro not being elected.
That Hakuro was aware that the Elrics had brought something back with them . . . if he determined what it was before Mustang did, be it positive or negative for Amestris, he would gain votes.
"The brothers didn't come to you after Lior because they didn't want to involve you," she reminded him softly, when it seemed that he wasn't going to continue his thought. "They didn't know if they could trust you, but they were also trying to protect you."
"They were children!" he exploded suddenly. "That wasn't for them to decide!"
She watched him silently, waiting for him. It took him a long time to calm down, and she was beginning to think he was simply going to wish her good day when he looked at her.
"I would have helped them then," he told her, very evenly. "I should have. It would have . . . have had more meaning than what I did instead."
This was also the first time he had referred to his retreat from reality as a mistake. She let it go, focusing instead on what he was getting at.
"They won't let you, you know." She softened it with a smile. "Neither will we."
He turned to stare at her in surprise.
"Don't make the same mistake the Elric brothers did." She stood, coming to join him at the window. "Don't assume asking us for help is endangering us. Trust us."
The major general was silent a long time, just watching her. "I do trust you."
"Good," she responded. "Then trust me when I tell you not to throw away your career. We'll find a way to help the Elric brothers and do what needs to be done with the device they brought with them. You need to focus on something more important."
He returned his gaze to the window.
"You need to stay with them and make sure Winry Rockbell doesn't cave Ed's skull in with a wrench." She was half-kidding; in actuality she was a little worried about how the girl was going to take things. Getting Ed re-outfitted with automail was a very real and pressing issue. He had to be able to perform alchemy on the off chance the device was something current alchemists wouldn't or couldn't handle properly.
"I'm not stupid enough to get in her way, Riza. He's on his own."
She snorted, and the atmosphere lightened considerably.
"With all due respect, sir, I think your place is beside them right now. We'll handle things from here."
He crossed his arms across his chest, staring far out into the city. "I don't think it's the Philosopher's Stone."
She took that under advisement. He was, after all, the foremost expert on the stone after the Elrics had vanished. He'd been doing a very good job of discouraging all those checking out the books in the First Library on the subject, even though the information was now even more cleverly encrypted than Marcoh had managed.
They knew it needed to be there, for posterity. So the brightest of future generations would be able to get their hands on the knowledge that, to transmute the Philosopher's Stone, you had to sacrifice, literally, thousands of humans. And that that stone would only be worth a single human resurrection.
Hopefully anyone smart enough to figure it out would also see that it simply wasn't worth it. However, on the off chance that such a slaughter was going to occur anyway –
Then it might be applicable. That didn't make the transmutation right, but it did mean those lives that couldn't be saved could still have value, have purpose. They could have died for a reason, even if that reason was to bring back one lone survivor.
She was pretty sure, if Edward was alive and remained in this world, that he was going to vehemently disagree with the major general's decision regarding that. After all, only the smallest handful of people still knew how to transmute it, and all of them were mortal. They would eventually die, and it followed that if books had not been written, and the information not passed down to apprentices, the Stone would die with them.
She'd have to make arrangements to be out in the countryside when those debates took place.
"What do you think it is?"
He took a deep, slow breath. "Something too dangerous for them to leave behind," he replied. "And the world on the other side of the Gate figured that out, and tried to stop them."
That could make sense. She'd been trying to figure out why Alphonse had been shot – for trying to rescue Edward, or for stealing the device? Or why Edward, no longer needing to be a dog of the military, would join one there to begin with. And why Al would have done so as well, when he hadn't even been willing to sit for the National Alchemy test. Clearly they'd done it for a purpose, and just as clearly, from what little she understood of that world, alchemy didn't apply. If the Homunculus Wrath hadn't gone through the Gate to the other world, the Thule Invasion would never have taken place.
Which begged the question, how did they return? If they didn't use the device, how had they managed it?
"Go." She nudged him gently with her elbow. "Go see them. I'll take care of your paperwork."
He looked like he wanted to be a smart-aleck, but apparently nothing came to his mind, because he just casually tucked his hands into his pockets, and turned for the door.
"Keep me informed, colonel."
- x -
"No way!"
He turned the corner and was unsurprised to find the one that had spoken was none other than the newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Jean Havoc. The blonde was sitting on the very edge of the bench, staring intently at none other than Winry Rockbell.
Of course, now that she was old enough to flirt with, he should have expected nothing less.
Winry seemed to be taking it all in stride, which meant either her subject made her oblivious, or she knew that Havoc was stalling her. He paused at the corner, hoping they hadn't noticed him, and listened.
"But then-" Jean paused, as though rethinking the question quickly. "If Ed had come back with an arm and a leg that his father had designed for him, how did you know the automail you'd made would fit . . . ?"
She made a derisive noise – very unbecoming for someone of both her beauty and build. "The ports are made from steel. They're – ugh. What do you know about automail?"
"Colonel Archer was outfitted with it, and it was scary," Havoc said frankly. Roy had to bite his lower lip to prevent an outburst of laughter.
Winry apparently had anticipated this sort of response, because when she started talking again, it was as though he hadn't spoken. "The basic automail arm is made up of only two components – the port, and the limb itself. The port is permanently attached to the body. It's the harness that connects the automail limb to the body and leaves it free to move. We usually drill into the nearest undamaged bones and-"
"You do this?" He sounded incredulous.
"Of course," she answered, as if he was a little slow. "I mean, first we tend to the blood vessels in the area the limb was lost, and pull the nerves. That's the worst part. Once we've gotten the nerves into the channels, we screw the whole thing together. Usually ports are permanent, so they're designed to take a big beating. They also anchor pretty similarly to the body as the muscle system would, to distribute the weight and force the automail limb will be exerting on their skeleton."
Jean apparently had nothing to say to this. His mouth was probably hanging open. And probably less one cigarette, considering it was a hospital.
"So there was no way Ed could get rid of it," she finished. "I knew if he ever came back, the limb would be busted up, but what I'd made would still fit the port we'd outfitted on him."
"Uh-huh. Wow," Havoc added. Yes, he was definitely trying to stall her. If he was flirting, he would have been a little faster on his toes.
"I wasn't counting on this . . ." Winry's voice was much quieter, somehow different altogether. She'd lost the joy of talking about her profession, and was now speaking of Edward directly.
Smooth move, Havoc.
"Hey." Jean's voice was a little lower, and a bit more serious. "You know him better than I do, but surely there's been improvements in automail since he was a bratty kid. Isn't there anything you can design for him that's a little more Ed-proof? I mean, I know that's impossible," he added as an afterthought, "but with you being both so young and so well-respected in your field, I figured you'd probably have something you'd like to try out on someone, and it seems like Ed sort of owes you."
Roy rested his temple against the wall, and listened for her response. Maybe not so bad a move after all.
" . . . well, with . . . what they did to him . . ." There was a pause. "It looks like they were trying to figure out how the limb connected to the port, and when they tried to put the limb back, they simply didn't take care to make sure all the channels on the limbs slid into the port channels correctly. After that, they assumed the nerves weren't touching, which was correct, they just . . . didn't realize how it all fit together." She took a deep breath. "So I'm not sure Ed's going to want to try anything new."
"You don't give him enough credit," Jean told her softly.
Roy heard the shifting of fabric, and imagined that Havoc had probably put an arm around her.
"He never gave me credit." Her response was muffled. Maybe she was speaking into his shoulder?
"Of course he did," Havoc cried. "He bragged about his damn automail all the time. When we were all bored in the office, and he was . . . well, actually, I guess we were all in East HQ, not Central, but he was under house arrest for something or another . . .anyway, the point is he'd transmute that damn arm of his into everything you could think of. Including a spitwad catapult."
There was a muffled laugh.
"And Kain would just whine about it, and Heymans would shoot back snotballs – the point is, once Hawkeye got onto him for it, saying he was going to wreck the thing if he kept playing with it. And he said that was true, if he transmuted more than the surface, he wasn't sure he could reconstruct the entire thing properly. Him. Boy genius himself said it was too complex for him to screw with."
Winry didn't say anything, but Jean was on a roll.
"And once Mustang threw a catalogue at him and told him to get himself outfitted with a weapon – this was back after his first fight with Scar, so I guess the first time he went to you for a new arm – and he said flat-out that his automail was the best in the country and if you hadn't put a gun in his arm or leg, then he didn't need one."
"He could just transmute one." Her voice was still muffled. "Besides, I was afraid he'd shoot himself."
"Probably so. And I think you weren't the only one," Jean added as an afterthought. "Hawkeye took him to the shooting range all of twice. The second time, I'm pretty sure they came back early because she was going to take him out instead of a target."
This time, Winry really laughed. Even Jean chuckled at the memory.
"So what do you have in mind for him this time?"
More shifting of fabric. She was leaning away now. "Well, we came up with a new alloy last winter." The confident mechanic voice was back. "It's a little heavier than what we last outfitted him with, but I doubt he's going to get any taller so we don't need to worry about weight so much anymore."
Ouch. But probably accurate.
"It's extremely durable, and fairly easy to work with. The other advantage is some of the components can be hollow, so despite the weight it'll be a little more buoyant than the last limb. Drowning is a problem for our customers who are too stupid to stay away from water, and it's also inconvenient."
"Drowning . . .is usually inconvenient, yes." Jean sounded a little worried at her cavalier tone, but at least he had successfully cheered her up.
Mustang half-grinned, then pushed himself off the wall and finished his turn around the corner. He'd been roughly correct; Jean still had an arm draped casually over Winry's shoulders, and she was a little more relaxed-looking than he'd last seen her. Both of them looked up at his approach, and the arm snaked back to Jean's side.
He stood immediately and smartly saluted. Roy returned the gesture with a murmured, "At ease, Lieutenant Colonel."
Winry nodded to him, which he also returned, then looked back at Havoc. "Oh, I see," she said after a moment. "You've been promoted, then, since last I saw you?"
Havoc puffed out his chest. "Yes, I have. It seems someone finally noticed all the work I've been doing around here for the last six years-"
"And demotions can occur in the blink of an eye," Mustang finished coolly.
Jean stopped immediately, but he knew the other man knew he was joking. Mostly.
Winry, however, seemed to take offense to the joke, her face growing serious.
"Who did that to Edward?"
Well, he'd been expecting her to ask, but certainly not so bluntly nor out in the middle of the hallway. The hospital was trying to keep the Elric brothers a secret, considering they were celebrities in Amestris when they were alive, let alone after the rumors of the successful transmutation of the Philosopher's Stone. And Alphonse had been getting a lot of attention before his disappearance four years ago.
At the same time, brushing off her serious tone would be a mistake. There was no need to patronize her; she was an adult now, as well. "Men that are too far for us to reach," he replied. He would kill the brothers himself if they ever even mentioned going through that Gate again. "Can I assume Edward's surgery was successful?"
"Oy, yes, I was supposed to call!" Jean's hand shot to the back of his head and he rubbed it vigorously. "It's just I was distracted by this beautiful women, and when I realized who she was, I was transfi-oof!"
Winry Rockbell had elbowed him in the gut.
"We finished thirty minutes ago." Again, all business. "Please thank Major Breda for me. His friend allowed me to observe during the surgery."
Mustang bowed his head again. "I overheard a bit of talk regarding Edward's replacement automail," he commented. "Can I assume he will still be able to use it?"
Winry nodded, her eyes serious, as Jean rubbed his aching ribs and looked her up and down with new respect. "Just. If he screws up again, he's going to lose most of the articulation at his shoulder."
"Then we'll have to prevent him from doing so," he replied.
She sighed, and crossed her arms, obviously fighting with something. He glanced up and down the hall; they were mostly alone, as in the effort to hide Edward from the public and the media, they'd put him in a mostly empty wing.
"Is there something else, Miss Rockbell?"
She stood, shouldering a large, dark canvas bag as she did so. " . . . I understand Alphonse is here, but they won't let me visit him." For some reason, she was no longer meeting his eyes, preferring to stare at the chair-rail extending the length of the hall wall behind him.
Havoc glanced his way, but Mustang ignored him. "That's correct. Standard policy regarding a pending military investigation."
The hand clutching her shoulderstrap curled tighter into a fist, but her voice was steady and even. "I understand."
"Lieutenant Major."
Havoc snapped back to attention. "Sir!"
"Speaking of Alphonse Elric, the colonel prepared a few questions for him." Roy fished a folded piece of paper out of his uniform pocket, handing it to Havoc. "Please secure his room for an interview."
Havoc's eyes were questioning, but he saluted and strode back down the hallway. 'Securing the room for an interview' just meant chasing out any hospital staff, and would only take a few seconds. There had been no real need to send him ahead for something so trivial.
Of course, the sheet of paper didn't have questions for Al on it, either.
"Where are you staying in the city, Ms. Rockbell?"
She still stared at about his shoulder-height, not meeting his eyes. He thought she'd have grown out of that by now, but then again, he was also surprised she'd yet to come after him with a wrench. Or something more fatal. He wasn't sure it mattered to her that he was trying to work his way up the ranks to ensure an order like the one to kill her parents was never issued again. He wasn't sure knowing such a thing would matter to him.
And despite Sheska bringing Winry back to the HQ for her debriefing after the Thule Invasion, and Hawkeye and Sheska both keeping in contact with her, their face-to-face interactions had been kept extremely brief over the years. That she still spoke so civilly to him was something that caused him to respect her a great deal.
She had no need to, after all. She had no affiliation with the military. She was polite with him because she chose to be, because she was raised to be and because she knew it was the most efficient and painless way for them to communicate.
She was a reason he couldn't throw everything away and let Hakuro take that seat.
"I haven't chosen a hotel yet," she admitted. "I spent the night here."
"Colonel Hawkeye has asked me to extend an invitation for you to spend your remaining time in her home. It is spacious and Black Hayate would enjoy another playmate."
Winry smiled despite herself, looking at him as though she'd forgotten her previous disappointment. "Has he buried any more bones lately, Major General?"
Roy Mustang used every ounce of his self-control to avoid gaping at her. Had she really just joked?
And had Hawkeye really told her that story?
He couldn't help it. He smiled back.
"I've been keeping my distance," he admitted. "The mutt's new trick involves rubbing his winter undercoat on unsuspecting officers' jackets."
Winry snorted. "Probably not on Riza's."
"No, he'd get shot," Mustang agreed. "If you are not too exhausted from your work here, would you mind accompanying me?"
She gave him a questioning look, but then shrugged, and followed him as he started walking back down the hallway. They were silent until the reached the circular lobby of the hospital, and he approached the military checkpoint. Both soldiers there immediately saluted, and the one on the right offered him the sign-in clipboard with a respectful "Sir!"
He fished his pocketwatch out of his uniform, glancing at the time before noting it on the clipboard, beside his signature. Then he handed the clipboard and its attached pen to Winry Rockbell.
She stared at it, making no move to take it. "I thought-"
"You will be returning for every interview," he cut her off. "As an expert witness, you will also be charged with keeping everything you hear unrelated to your field in confidence. Do you agree?"
She blinked at him, then slowly accepted the clipboard. "I-I . . . yes."
He just nodded curtly, and looked at the second guard expectantly. He stood frozen a moment before he figured out he was supposed to be getting her a pass. Then he scrambled for the desk, extracting a chain and a square of paper on thick stock.
"Name," he asked her, and Winry haltingly gave him the information. He made sure the second sergeant stamped it with the military seal, and then he took the chain and the card from the man.
"Keep this on you at all times," he instructed her, attaching the chain to the her belt. "This pass allows you access not only to interviews in this facility, but access to the main facilities for your debriefs and court proceedings. Do not lose it. If it is lost or stolen, notify my offices immediately."
She just nodded dumbly.
He glanced at the two soldiers, and they snapped again to attention. "Busy day?"
Their expressions shifted slightly. "No, sir!"
"The Winding Tree Alchemist, his brother, and three nurses are currently in the ward," the second one volunteered. Mustang gave a nod of approval and strode between them, down the hall. Behind him, he heard the whisper of Winry's footsteps following him.
She was silent until they were halfway down the hall, long out of the earshot of the guards. "But Al doesn't . . . need automail, does he?"
"No," he admitted. "Edward Elric doesn't seem to remember what happened to him. In fact, he doesn't seem to remember anything after he left on the enemy airship." He gave her a moment to mull that over. "As his mechanic, I thought there may be some questions you had for Al that might assist you in further diagnosis."
Of course, they'd already removed Ed's ports and repaired what damage had been done to his body, so diagnosis was over. And Al hadn't spoken a word, according to the State Alchemist that had once been sentenced to death for using Edward's name. But if there was any chance that Ed was going to remember what he'd been through, he might react negatively to the idea of new automail. She'd need to know about it.
And Al could use a more familiar face to look at than his or Russell's. Since they couldn't bring Ed to him, she was the next best thing to a family member.
She was a bright girl. She'd figure it out.
"He was shot twice directly before coming back to this world," he continued. "Currently Russell and Fletcher Tringum have volunteered their alchemy towards repairing his body."
Winry followed quietly along, finally moving to walk beside him. "Is he going to be alright?"
He didn't answer. He didn't really know. The last he'd heard, Al had responded to their healing by making a noise, but he hadn't made any effort to speak, and he hadn't moved at all. He opened his eyes and could focus on things for a very brief amount of time, which was encouraging, but not necessarily reassuring.
If that was all he could do, Edward was going to kill himself trying to figure out what he'd forgotten. Ed would go back to the Gate and lose another limb to get back the memories, if only to find a way to fix his brother.
And if Roy wasn't mistaken, that would probably work. He had probably lost his memories coming back through the Gate. But why? Trade for passage? Would it be enough? When he'd reappeared four years ago, he didn't appear to have paid anything at all. And that Alphonse was able to transmute part of his soul into a suit of armor that went to the other side and that part returned back through the Gate . . . what did it pay? Was Al losing a piece of his soul every time he passed through it?
One thing was certain, though. If Alphonse Elric was still in this bad of shape after being treated by the Winding Tree Alchemist and his younger brother, he surely would have died without their help. Coming back to Amestris had saved his life, and it had probably saved Edward's as well.
If nothing else, it had saved Ed's mind from the pain that would have been the whole of his world.
They came back for help. Even though neither one of them could speak, they were shouting for it.
And they were going to get it.
No matter what he had to pay to give it to them.
- x -
Author's Notes: You know, I'm laughing right now. Really. These chapters are getting longer and I'm covering less and less ground. At least the stage is set for the last bit of the fic, eh? Thank you guys so much for the hits and reviews! I'm glad I'm not the only one that found the movie to be a less than satisfactory conclusion to the anime! And I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this fic as much as I am. As always, no beta reader, and I found a few typos on my read-through, which means there are more. I apologize for them in advance!