Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

This chapter is dedicated to Inkydoo, due to the fact that Ed and Al felt like doing so. She can consider it a belated birthday present if she'd like. ; )

- x -

"Nii-san?"

He didn't look up at the voice, just continued folding the clothes. It wasn't going to keep his attention for much longer; he really only had the set he was folding, and the ones on his back. His living quarters had always been his suitcase, and Al's things had been lost when he had been presumed dead.

That and the fact that his apartment had fallen into the gaping hole that hid the previous Central from the new one.

Ed shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge the mental image that came to mind whenever he thought about that place. Just as the Gate had shown him the future of Earth – with or without their uranium bomb – it had given him Amestris' past as well.

Of course, he'd been living with that information for years. When he'd died, the Gate had shown him the fall of that ancient city that lay beneath Central. The horrifying final moments of the people that had vanished when their city had become nothing more than a gigantic alchemy array.

That had been genius on the part of the alchemist the Homunculi had forced. He'd set up the array so that it remained intact while the pieces of the city not covered with lines had fallen through to the created cavern below. Just the pavement of the streets had been his array, so that not only did the entire city fall in one piece, but every single human being – even those in four or five story housing – passed through the flat of the circle and was absorbed.

Scar's array in Lior hadn't been nearly that efficient. Frank Archer had been proof of that.

And even more amazing, when the dust of that ancient city's collapse had settled, the streets looked like streets again. His array had vanished into the ages, only to be replaced with the Persian-like Great Arts or their own, almost Latin-looking alchemy.

Funny, how so many things had paralleled that world.

Even gypsies.

"Nii-san . . ."

"I'm almost ready," he replied, snapping the bag closed. Russell had been kind enough to lend them a satchel to carry the borrowed clothing, but it was made to carry substantially more than they had. The bottom held some of Fletcher's work clothes, and he had laid Russell's atop those.

All they had in the world.

As soon as he made some money – or transmuted some gold – he'd have a tailor make a few sets of clothing for them and return these to the Tringums.

They'd already taken so much.

"No hurry. I don't think the train leaves for another hour at least."

He'd thought as much, but his watch hadn't been working since they'd returned, so he'd gone ahead and packed it already. Apparently magnets didn't work quite the same here in Amestris as they did in Germany. Perhaps the poles were exactly the reverse here.

Or just not quite in the same place. The continents were vaguely the same on both planets, but Earth seemed to have suffered a cataclysmic event early in its history that had changed the way some of the tectonic plates had divided. The running theory had been some kind of asteroid impact, but apparently the same had not happened on their planet.

Which explained why the fossilized dinosaurs were missing. And that was kind of a shame, really, because dinosaurs were pretty damn cool, all things considering, and he could think of a few people he'd met in his lifetime in Amestris that would agree.

Winry probably would have loved dinosaurs. Especially the kind that flew. She'd probably have designed automail wings by now, given that she could have easily copied the bone structure –

Talk about flying too close to the sun.

Ed realized he was staring blankly at the bag, and he moved quickly, shaking its contents to settle them and placing it at the foot of the bed.

There was nothing else to do.

Again, his hands were empty.

He was going to have to find a way to prevent this from happening. If he didn't have something to do, he thought, and when he thought, he got quiet.

And he knew it was bothering Al.

"All packed."

He turned slowly to find his brother standing in the doorway, looking at him with those sad golden eyes. Ed flashed his brother a quick grin, but the slight smile he got in return was even less enthusiastic than usual.

It had been five days since they'd moved into the 'private care' of one Doctor Keeys, and as many days since they'd seen anyone. There was a military guard stationed outside the clinic, of course, but Hawkeye must have taken pity on her subordinates, because he'd not recognized a one of them. That was probably as much to protect the officers – and Mustang – as it was to protect them. Ed was pretty sure Hakuro wasn't going to try anything, but part of him was glad that he hadn't seen a familiar face besides Al's since –

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Ed felt a more cynical smile trying to edge out onto his lips. His little brother had been doing a pretty good job of sidestepping everything, but apparently even his patience had an end. "No."

Al sighed, and leaned his head against the doorframe. "You need to leave it here, brother."

Ed just stared at Al. Really studied him. When he'd left Central in that airship, Al had been so young. The round face that he had wished so thoroughly that he could have seen in the reflection of the armor he'd bound that soul to. But in the blink of an eye, Al had been his right age, his proper age. Al had finally gotten the chance to live his life as a kid for a few more years, but he'd tossed it aside to study alchemy. To follow him.

Now he was beginning to think Al had done it again, when they'd slipped back here. Aged so much in the span of time it took them to traverse the Gate -

His mouth quirked. "I don't think I can, Al."

Quite the existential conversation they were having. He wondered briefly if they were on the same page.

Al put his hands in his pockets, looking quite at home in his borrowed clothing. Funny, that Fletcher had grown so tall. Taller even than his brother, probably because of the exposure to the red water at so young an age.

"We're home," he murmured, looking around the spartan but comfortable patient room Ed was assigned. "We can't go back to Earth. And there's no reason to. Our world is this one again."

"All is one and one is all," he heard himself say, before he really thought about it. God, but sometimes sensei's words sounded so empty.

He missed her. She would give him something . . . comforting to think of. Some riddle, something to tie his whizzing thoughts to. Something for him to ponder besides his own condition.

Back in Amestris, fully restored. Al, fully restored. No longer needing to pursue the Philosopher's Stone. And everything else about alchemy – everything he ever wanted to know, he did. Transmuting chimeras, making weapons, creating rivers and collapsing mountains. He could shift the world if someone gave him a big enough lever, isn't that what Archimedes had said?

Didn't he and Al have that lever?

And didn't they both know what it cost?

"That's true," his brother noted after a moment. "We're so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So insignificant we couldn't even save a little girl."

Ed almost reeled as the image of Nina flashed in his mind's eye, followed by the rush of helplessness he'd felt when he'd said those words. Why would Al use them now, use them like that -

"You couldn't save them," he said, when he saw that he'd gotten Ed's attention. "Neither could I. I couldn't even save you."

"Al . . ."

He shrugged. "I thought I was going to die. And leave you in that closet to be found by the ones that had hurt you." His voice became quiet. "I knew there was nothing I could do to help them. I didn't even try."

Ed turned away, eyes instinctively drawn to the window. Was that what Al thought was bothering him? The dozens of men and women – the gypsies – that had been corralled in the facility? The 'simulations' that had gone on, night after night, while he worked and studied and laughed with the other doctors?

If only it was that simple.

"If I had succeeded in destroying the bomb, we would both be dead," Al continued thoughtfully. "How many times have we escaped death now? Twice? Three times?"

Probably more than that, given their run-ins with Scar, the Homunculi, the Thules, the Germans . . . more times than they ought to have.

More times than they deserved.

"Doesn't this seem like a waste to you?"

Ed smiled emptily, because the alternative was unacceptable. He remained by the window. "When we were kids, I . . . I didn't think it would turn out like this." Ed looked down and studied his hands, surprised that they looked so clean in the light of day. His right arm was a little more pale, as it hadn't seen sunlight since Wrath had given it back to the Gate, but neither one belied what it had cost.

"People shouldn't have had to die for us. I never . . . I never wanted that."

"You're preaching to the choir, you know," Al reminded him gently.

"I know." Ed watched his hands – his perfect hands – curl into loose fists. Wishes were for children, and they weren't children anymore. People had died. A lot of them. And there were more on the way. There was nothing he could do about many of those deaths. He knew that.

He just didn't like it very much.

"When a soul is released from the body, a bond is broken, and energy is released." He would probably write it into a textbook, so all other alchemists would know what they were using when they made paper decorations and dolls for their friends. "That's the same principle Huskisson used to make the fission bomb."

Al just listened quietly.

"But he hadn't studied enough alchemy to know that. The theory of energy release when bonds are broken is constant in both sciences." Ed dropped his hands, staring at the windowsill instead. A lone red-shelled ladybug was making its way across the painted slat of wood.

"I didn't study enough medicine. I understood the physics, but I didn't apply the concept across sciences."

"Nii-san . . ." Al's voice sounded troubled.

The ladybug was tenaciously crossing the length of the sill, and he watched its progress. It was moving at a diagonal, not even the shortest distance between two points. "I told you three weeks ago that General Walther had assigned me to Dr. Klein. Originally, I was to continue my research on electrons to increase the distance communications could be sent along wire or radio waves, and his studies involved gases to develop new forms of artificial light."

Light bulbs. It was so ironic, that a symbol of cartoonists indicating their characters having epiphanies were depicted with light bulbs.

God, he'd been so stupid.

"You did," Al recalled. "You said he liked you because you reminded him of Napoleon." His brother very politely did not say why Ed had reminded the doctor of the Frenchman, but he recalled the peals of laughter and a brief scuffling match when his little brother had dragged that detail out of him.

They'd laughed about it. It had been a joke.

"Klein was working on determining the weight of gases and their ability to displace air." He shook his head, slowly, and the ladybug paused. "I could never figure out why he was concerned about that when creating a light bulb, since the filament needed oxygen to at least begin reacting with electricity. We got into an argument over whether sulphur dioxide would displace more air in a ten by ten chamber than carbon monoxide would."

"Sulphur dioxide," Al echoed. His alchemy background told him what it was composed of.

But not what it was used for.

"Did you know that Napoleon supposedly used sulphur dioxide to gas rebellious slaves in the holds of cargo ships? Most of those holds were around ten by ten."

Al was silent.

"I didn't know why Walthers put me in that lab. I just knew it put me closer to the labs where we thought the uranium bomb was being studied." His voice was starting to shake, and he swallowed around his tight throat before he continued. "A few days before we came here, I became suspicious that the research wasn't for artificial light. I created some fake numbers, and when they didn't seem to notice, I confronted Klein, pointed out that the mixtures would suffocate the bulb filament."

"Nii-san . . ."

"So they told me what they were really studying. That Walthers felt mixing the physical and medical sciences would benefit Germany's goals. Possible methods for mass euthanasia of the 'useless eaters' that might put a social or fiscal burden on the country on its rise to power."

"That doesn't make you like Huskisson." Al's voice was hard. "You didn't know what your portion of the research was being used for. He did. He knew he was making something to destroy."

"The fake numbers, Al." The ladybug was still, as though frozen to the spot, listening to his confession. "They changed the ratio of gas to air enough to suffocate the filament. Klein used those as a production level to shoot for. That's what was going on in those cells below. They were trying to find ways to inexpensively produce sulphur dioxide in quantities that would match the current manufacturing capacity of carbon monoxide."

Al was silent for a long time.

"I know I didn't kill them, Al. And I know I couldn't save them." He'd tried. "I know the research would have been completed by someone else. It was just a lark, a competition with another doctor."

A slight breeze blew in from the street, and the ladybug's antenna twitched in its direction, tasting the air and withdrawing information.

"It was a consequence of my own goals. I wanted to prove that carbon monoxide was the better displacer. It never occurred to me to ask why. Why a ten by ten space when we were supposed to be talking about glass flasks."

Al remained quiet.

"I wanted the Philosopher's Stone to restore your body, Al." Ed closed his eyes. "No matter what, I wanted to give you back what you lost because of my confidence in the theory."

Ed took a breath. "But I also wanted to restore my own limbs. Automail could break down, and it hurt." He unconsciously opened and closed his right hand, concentrating on the sensation of it. "I wanted it no matter what. The consequences of what we discovered, who we shared it with, all of it . . . all is one and one is all. We couldn't predict, couldn't ever know how far-flung those consequences would be."

"So you're saying, now that you've met your goals, they weren't worth the price?"

"Your soul would eventually have left the armor." He was certain of it; they'd discussed his soul transmutation skill at length when they'd first arrived back in Europe. "You would have ceased to exist one day, with no warning. I don't regret any consequence of restoring you."

"That's because you're an idiot," Al told him quietly.

Ed chuckled, but it was a sound without mirth. "That's true," he admitted. "And so are you. What's the worst that could have happened to me, if I'd simply kept my automail limbs?"

He heard Al shift in the doorway. "You died, nii-san," his brother reminded him. "I used the Philosopher's Stone to bring back your soul. I traded my life for you, not for your limbs."

"I told you to take the Tringums and get out. They might never have remembered the Gate."

He heard his brother draw in breath to speak, but moment followed moment with no sound from him.

"I was so sure I could keep it, I could hang onto it because I'd done it before." Ed looked back at the sill, but the ladybug was gone as if it had never been.

"If I were a normal human, it would have been fine." He heard Al take a step into the room. "You didn't remember our conversations, nii-san."

"But you did. You told me not to risk it, and I overruled you."

"The Tringums are adults. They can decide to take their own risks. Just like all the other adults decided to take their own risks." Another step. "You can't take on the guilt for everything that happened after we tried to transmute mom. You'll never start moving again."

Ed's gaze traveled further out the window, trying to find the drifting dot that would be the ladybug in flight. "I know, Al."

"I made my own decisions." His brother's voice was right behind him. "And I deal with those consequences. We can't go back. Or do you need your watch to remind you?"

Ed was surprised when he didn't so much as flinch at the barb.

"We came to the end, Al. We set out to restore our bodies, and here we are."

"Is that what this is all about?" Al's voice sounded disappointed. "You're scared because you don't have a neatly defined, black and white goal to accomplish anymore?"

Was it really that simple? "A long time ago, you said you would have lived the quiet life if not for my meddling."

Al sighed deeply, then changed tactics. "It's a lovely dream, isn't it? Some quiet town, nestled on a hill, with no early morning inspection. No deadlines, no orders. No fear that knowledge gathered and recorded would be corrupted by hands grasping for power."

He'd heard that tone enough to know that Al was sure his older brother wasn't going to like what he heard next.

"I want some control over the consequences."

Al was not so easily derailed. "To do that, we'd have to leave Amestris. You met too many people when we were working towards the Philosopher's Stone. Sooner or later, you'd be recognized."

Ed closed his eyes. That was probably true. "Another consequence." He held up his right hand. "What will the consequence of getting outfitted with Winry's latest invention be, I wonder?"

"You can't take all the credit. She invented it for me, you know." Al took one more step, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. And about three inches higher.

"Can you think of no other application for strength-augmenting armor?" He let his hand drop back to his side. "Isn't Amestris about to enter a prolonged period of paranoia before our neighbors attack, sensing weakness? Haven't we already seen it happen? Haven't we participated in that once already?"

Al sighed. "And isn't strength-augmenting armor going to be invented eventually? Winry's brilliant mostly because she was trying to so hard to make automail you-proof. But she's not the only brilliant automail maker out there. Just like the gas research, eventually someone else is going to come up with the idea."

"I'd rather not be a part of it, this time."

"Because you're an idiot," Al snapped. "If you know something is going to happen that can be used improperly, that's all the more reason to jump right in!"

Ed didn't look at him, and beside him, his brother huffed in frustration. "What about polio, Ed? Do you think that disease doesn't exist in this world? What about those born with deformities, those who would use that kind of technology for dangerous situations, or rescues? Think of who it could help!"

Al turned to face the window, as if searching for what his brother was watching so intently. "Europe changed quickly. That world changes quickly, and we saw nothing but the negative aspects. If that's what you're afraid of, then why are you running away? If you participated, couldn't you do a better job of keeping those aspects at bay?"

Was that true? Was he afraid? It had been so long since he'd –

No. That wasn't true at all.

"Do you think I'm afraid, Al?"

" . . . I hope you are." Al laughed softly. "Because I'm terrified."

Ed stared at his brother, and Al rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"I've been trying to get my body – and yours - back since I was a kid. Then we were trying to get rid of the bomb. I was more scared that I wasn't going to get that bomb destroyed than I was of dying." He shrugged, running his hand over his short ponytail thoughtfully. "We've always had a purpose, something we had to do that no one else could. Now we don't. I . . . it's like floundering. I'm not really sure what I should be doing, but I have the unshakable feeling that I need to get moving again, or I never will."

Ed watched his brother a moment, then turned back to the window.

They stayed that way for many minutes.

"If we're going to Resembool, we should probably head out soon," Al finally observed. "And if we don't, we need to call Winry."

Ed just nodded, once. He'd abandoned the ladybug search in lieu of staring at the fresh new leaves on the cherry tree outside their window. It had long ago bloomed, and now was enjoying the very beginning of summer.

Their seasons weren't the same either. Maybe that had something to do with the cataclysmic event that had changed the continents, and their calendar being so far off?

Or maybe that had to do with the prevalent European religion. The same one that had been in Amestris, in the city below Central.

They were so alike, those worlds.

One was all, and all was one.

And if the followers of Leto could do it, he supposed he had no excuse. "I'll put one foot in front of the other." He turned his head slightly, watching his brother in his peripheral vision. "I have two perfectly good legs, after all."

"Good." Al's tone was approving. "I was afraid we were going to have to look up Rose before we visited Granny Pinako and Winry."

"But I can't leave it behind, Al. Not yet. Not all of it." Ed reached up and gently pulled the window closed. Then he turned to face his brother.

" . . . but I'll work on it."

Al was silent a moment, and then his eyes glinted maliciously. "Like you worked on drinking milk?" he teased.

Ed accidentally grinned, and the serious atmosphere was broken. Good, too. All that honesty was depressing him.

Al indicated the armor, lying beside the satchel. "I'll wait out front. I think the military's gotten us a car."

"Does Mustang really think Hakuro's going to come after us now?"

"No, I think he wants us out of his hair," Al responded darkly. "We just about killed his chances at getting elected Prime Minister."

That was true. Then again, they'd then turned around and almost guaranteed it. The failed bomb test meant further aggression from Amestris' embittered neighbors, so the likelihood the Parliament would vote for someone that was militarily competent rather than a figurehead was high.

And unlike Hakuro, Ed knew they could trust Mustang never to issue an irrational order.

Huh. Trust and Mustang. He'd combined those two concepts into the same thought.

Couldn't let that one slip out.

- x -

"How the hell are you going to explain that?"

She was more than half-way across the traincar from them, but she recognized the voice instantly. It was the only one that had that odd, slightly foreign accent to it. And that certain edge he'd had even when a child his age had no right to it.

"What, thrice-hundred folded steel, or samurai?"

"Either."

"Nii-san, you saw how strong that sword was. And flexible, too. If we can figure out what about repetitively heating and folding steel gave it those characteristics –"

"We should have tied your helmet-hair into a topknot."

"I would have looked ridiculous!"

"That's true."

Two blonde heads were visible above the red velvet headrests. One wore a rather tight, neat braid, while the other was more relaxed, and quite a bit longer. She slipped around the passengers, heading directly for them.

"I wish we'd gotten more time to speak with the samurai."

"Speak with him?! Al, he didn't speak English or German!"

She came to stand directly behind their seats, but she had only been staring at the back of Ed's head about three seconds before he sensed it, and turned.

She barely repressed the urge to hug the stuffing out of him.

Arguing! Arguing with Alphonse! Oh, Riza was going to be so relieved –

"You two have gotten no quieter, I see," she reprimanded them gently, and the Elric brothers smiled up at her.

Oh, but they'd gotten handsome, too. The lack of pain and blood on their faces probably helped that a good deal. Al looked as though he'd forgotten to shave that morning, but Edward's face was smooth. Perhaps Alphonse would grow a beard, like his father had had.

Al jumped to his feet, grinning warmly at her. "Lieutenant Ross!"

Ed just gave her a slightly cocky smirk over his shoulder, and remained slouched in the seat where he was. "Come to see us off?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, then reached into her uniform's inner pocket and presented the two young men with a thick white envelope. "Hardly. Here are your orders."

Ed's smirk froze, but Al accepted the envelope. "Ah . . . orders?" His voice had the same hesitance it had had when he was a child, and was afraid his brother was about to go off –

Maria gave Edward a stern look. "I'm just the messenger," she reminded him, and suddenly the vein that had started to stand out on his forehead faded back into his skin.

"That's true," he agreed. She resisted the urge to check him for a fever. "Oy, Al, throw that out the window, would you?"

Ah, that was more like it.

They had attracted the attention of several of the passengers on the train, and she was relieved to see a flash of automail as Ed reached for the envelope to discard it himself.

She'd been ordered to make a scene, after all. And she'd been given every possible tool to assist her in that endeavor. Military orders for Edward Elric should have been enough to have started a shouting match by now.

And she was authorized to tell him about his current National Alchemist status, too, if it came to that.

Alphonse was already opening it, holding it high enough that Ed was going to have to stand to get it away from him. "I'm not in the military, nii-san. You can't order me."

"I'm your older brother!"

Al's eyebrows rose, and then he shook his head ruefully. "You're my older brother who needs to be back at Central HQ in two weeks."

Ed finally succeeded in snatching the missive from Al, and Al chuckled as he walked around his brother's outstretched legs and wrapped the very startled Lieutenant into a tight hug.

"Thanks for getting him to the doctors so quickly," he murmured softly. "It's good to finally get to hug you properly."

Maria smiled, and squeezed him tightly.

"Ah, so Mustang wants us back because he's going to be elected Prime Minister and he thinks the National Alchemists should work directly for him like they did the Fuhrer." Ed chuckled as he put the paperstock back into its envelope. "You can tell that pompous power-monger-"

"I can't hear you," the lieutenant sang out, patting Al on the back before turning on her heels and starting for the traincar's exit. "The train's whistle is blowing too loudly."

She imagined that Ed's face had gotten that consternated look he'd worn so often as a teenager.

"What train whistle? It's not – HEY! HEY, GET BACK HERE!"

In a moment of perfect timing, the train whistle actually did go off, warning the platform that it was about to pull away from the station. Her boots hit the platform just as the steam engine jerked the train to life, and she grinned merrily and waved at the young man half-hanging over the back, waving a white envelope and yelling.

Yes, she had successfully created a scene.

And Ed and Al were going to be alright.

That was the most important thing.

First Lieutenant Ross nodded to a few confused-looking enlisted on the platform, and headed back towards the main offices.

They'd be back in two weeks, after all. Much as Ed had complained, he'd be too intrigued to skip it. It was amazing, all the years he'd been gone, he hadn't really changed at all.

- x -

Author's Notes: I know, I promised you all a great deal of resolution! And then didn't give you very much. I ended up spending the entire chapter on Edward. He apparently had a lot to say. I figure two more chapters – we need to get Mustang elected, after all, and find out what he has planned for the Elrics. Standard typo disclaimers apply – I only caught one, which means there's another, lurking in the shadows. Special thanks also goes out to Silverfox, for braving the hordes and giving me her opinion on my last request! It shall be as she has requested.