"Khana! You won't believe it!" Mr Hughes was ecstatic on the other end. "She's so adorable, I don't know what I'd do without her! She's got tiny little hands, a tiny little face! And she was born in the same month as you! It's like you're sisters."

Khana chuckled softly at that, though it was difficult to be ecstatic about anything with the news she had to deliver. She didn't have the heart to tell him dates weren't what made sisters … though, after being abandoned by her brother and becoming so close to the three that lived here, she wasn't really sure what constituted siblinghood anymore. "She sounds like a dream," she said. "What's her name?"

"Elysia! Isn't it cute?!"

"Adorable, Mr Hughes." Khana smiled into the phone despite her current mood. "How's Mrs Hughes?"

"She's still recovering. I took some time off to take care of her, and man, I'm glad I did!" He reverted to baby talk on the other end, and somewhere in the background Khana heard the ecstatic shrieks of an infant's joy. "I hope you can come visit before I have to go back to work. Bring everyone with you! We'll make it a little holiday. I'll make that Ishvalan cake you used to make for us—what's it called? Reeva—uh, rehva…sha?"

"Revatta," Khana chuckled. "Revasha is a sponge."

"Ah, yes, right." He laughed at himself, and apart from the phone he babbled to the baby, "Daddy's a silly man. Isn't that right, Elycia? Daddy's not very good at Ishvalan. No he's not. No he's not!"

Khana held the phone away from her ear as the infant screamed in laughter, though she was sure the baby had no idea what it was laughing at, save for the faces Mr Hughes was making. The thought of never seeing this man again made her chest tighten, and Khana had to force herself to speak again.

"I, um, wanted to talk to you about that, Mr Hughes," she began quietly. "I … don't know that I'll be able to come visit like I said. I…"

"Oh, no." His voice switched suddenly from playful to concerned in an instant—she'd seen this side of him multiple times, when she refused to talk to him because of what was happening at school, or when he'd found out she was failing. It was never anger, but worry that coated his voice. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

She fought her first instinct to placate him, to tell him everything was alright, and instead muttered, "I just found out I … um, I'm sick. Really sick." Her voice choked, and she fought to keep a steady tone. "And no one can treat me because my brother isn't here. And I don't know how long it'll be, or if I'll…" She clenched her jaw and frowned. "If I'll be able to see you again. So… I'm sorry."

"Oh. No, don't be sorry. I … I don't know what to say. I'm sorry you're going through that right now. Is there anything I can do?"

The offer made tears stream down her face. "No," she whispered, her voice strained. "Just, um … tell Mrs Hughes I said hi. And Elycia, even though she doesn't know me."

"Of course." The man's voice was strained now—trying to be bright, full of life as he always was, but there was pain there. Fear. He sighed, and the two of them sat in silence for a moment before he suddenly perked up again. "Oh! What about the man who initially brought you to Roy? He must still be around. He was a doctor, right?"

"Mr Knox?" Khana replied, raising a brow. She shook her head. "His life was kind of falling to pieces when I last saw him and, to be honest, I wasn't the nicest. I doubt he'd like to see me again."

Mr Hughes chuckled. "You? Mean to someone you barely know? I wouldn't have guessed."

Khana's cheeks warmed as she remembered the first time she'd met him—and how cold she had been to him. At the time she was convinced David would be finding an apprentice right away, and all their troubles would be over—she thought she didn't need anyone else, and this was all just a setback. Now she thought of his unequivocal kindness; and the altruism she'd seen from these strangers in Resembool, and her chest felt so full, it hurt.

Mr Hughes continued, "But that's not who I mean. I mean the first one—you said he was an alchemist, didn't you? Isn't there a way you could get into contact with him? Did he leave you anything?"

"Oh…" Khana looked down into her lap. "You mean Tim."

"Tim?" Mr Hughes snickered. "A first name for him and no one else, huh?"

"He was different." Khana explained. "He said he didn't deserve to be called 'Mr' or 'Dr' anything, so I called him Tim. It's like in Ishval—when someone does something against Ishvala's tenets, they lose their name. At least, I guess it depends on how devout they are." She scoffed lightly. "It's a personal decision most of the time. But no, I don't know where Tim is—he didn't leave me or David anything to find him again."

"Well…" Mr Hughes sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Wait, Mr Hughes! He's…" Khana lowered her voice into the receiver, whispering, "He's a deserter. They'll kill him if they find him."

"Don't worry about that," he replied, "No one else will know. But my job has the best resources there are. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't try to get you some help."

Khana swallowed, her throat tight again as she leaned against the receiver. "Thank you… Maes."

"There you go." The man on the other end laughed softly. "Now I know we're friends. You'll be okay, Khana. I promise."

"Mm…"

After hanging up, she sat there for a long while, alone in the living room, as she thought about everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen. If Maes could find Tim… she might be able to overcome this. She might be able to survive. He was certainly a man who wouldn't care about his license being taken away, considering it most likely already was.

She looked up to the sound of uneven footsteps entering the room, and watched Ed set a hot cup of tea beside her before he sat down on the couch on the other side of the room. Khana smiled at the cup and ran her fingers around the edge of the saucer.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Don't worry about it," he replied easily. "You did the same for me, remember?"

She nodded with a small smirk. "I remember. Is this more equivalent exchange?"

"Just paying my debts," he chuckled, and leaned back against the couch. "Also—I don't know if you knew this, but Winry and Granny wanted to make you something for your birthday. They might try their hand at some of your Ishvalan cooking."

Khana laughed, despite the tears she felt forming in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, but just found more coming right after. "I told Granny I don't need anything for my birthday. We never celebrated birthdays individually in Ishval."

"Right—because it's a 'gift from god'?" Ed asked, and Khana nodded. "What do you do instead?"

"We waited for a meteor shower." Khana shrugged as she lifted the tea to her lips, and took a sip. The bitterness was oddly soothing to her current mood, and the heat going down into her chest was a comfort she had known only a few times in her life. It was the perfect temperature. "Meteor showers were a sign that good things were going to come. The longer it lasted, the more favour the Grand Cleric said we had with Ishvala."

Edward raised a brow. "You know how that sounds, don't you?"

"To you? Of course, it sounds silly." Khana grinned. "But for us, it was nice. I got to spend time with my family. We'd watch the skies, and once the shower was over we'd dance and play music, and the monks would put on a sparring demonstration for everyone." She leaned back, smiling wistfully at the memory. "It was a huge celebration—and we often used it to exchange gifts and wish each other a good year. We counted the years we were alive, sure, and everyone knew their own birth date, but…" She shrugged. "It's more fun to do it with a huge celebration, don't you think?"

"Actually, that does sound fun." Ed looked out through the window and muttered, "You think there'll be one this year?"

Khana nodded. "Honestly, there's at least one every year, but sometimes they're so small it's hard to see. This time it should be in August."

"You really know the skies, huh?" Ed asked, smirking, and Khana laughed lightly, her ears reddening.

"I was raised on it. It would be embarrassing if I didn't know."

"Are all Ishvalans raised on it?"

Khana shrugged, wobbling her head. "Kind of. Not in the same way Ishki and I were: most Ishvalans learn to read the stars, sure—to know when meteor showers will happen, so they know when is the right time to conceive. To Ishvalans, having babies around meteor showers is really important: some believed it would bless the birth. We learn how to navigate using stars; we learn the lunar calendar. It's all connected to the earth—how we keep going around, but the skies never change. Ask any Ishvalan why we care about the stars so much, and we'll tell you: Ishvala's in the stars, watching us. Governing the earth. Caring for us and the land she created."

"What do you believe?"

"That we're spinning around on a rock," she answered with a laugh. "And maybe there is a god, maybe there isn't … or maybe what you saw in the Gate is the closest we'll ever get." Khana set her tea down in her lap. "So maybe it doesn't matter whether or not Ishvala can hear my prayers when I sing them, or see my dances—but doing them makes me feel like everything sucks a little bit less."

"Fair enough." Ed grinned. "I guess you're not far off, especially since it seems like your culture has a whole lost history. Who knows—maybe Ishvalan alchemy really can make things suck a little bit less."

"I hope so," Khana mused with a soft sigh. After a moment she looked down, her eyes pained, and she whispered, "Ed… can I ask you something?"

"Huh? Yeah?"

"When you go off to do what you want to do…" Khana kept her eyes low, her mouth thinning as she continued, "When you … become a State Alchemist … you're taking Al with you, right?"

He frowned at the question, and with a scoff replied, "Obviously. I wouldn't even be doing this if…" He sighed heavily, looking down at his lap now. "I have to make things right with him."

Khana sank deeper into her chair, watching him. She smirked a bit as she considered her next words. "You know, he talks about you a lot. We both do—at night, when I can't sleep and he's awake." She chuckled when his face fell in concern, and she continued, "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. You're a really good big brother. Kind of reminds me of how my aba was with my tibu, who was younger. They were close like you guys—just two years apart."

Ed smirked at her, in spite of the tone the room had taken on. "What, you want me to be your older brother too? Kick David to the curb?"

She snorted in amusement. "That's not what I'm saying. It would be nice if he didn't consider me such a burden, that he had to drop me off and go on his own." Her fingers tapped on the side of the cup. "But I do love him. I just wish…"

"You wish he was here," Ed finished for her when she trailed off. She nodded. Edward leaned forward, elbows resting in his lap as he sent her a soft look. "If we see him, want me to punch him for you?"

"Yeah," she replied with a tearful chuckle. "Just don't tell Al—he probably wouldn't let you." Edward laughed, and Khana sniffled as she looked back toward the phone. "David didn't even call today—which is kind of understandable, since we don't really celebrate birthdays, but he didn't even call in May. That's the day that really matters. The day our family was returned to the earth. Even Mr Hughes called today. He called then too."

"Hey." Khana exhaled softly as she met the golden stare ahead of her. It was intense as always, and spoke of an honesty she had only seen in the people she'd met since her brother's disappearance. He continued, "Your brother might not come back—but whatever happens, you won't die. When Al and I go out, we'll be looking for the Philosopher's Stone—something that can transmute while completely ignoring the law of equivalent exchange. So if we can find a doctor, they can fix you without sacrificing a single thing. As far as I'm concerned, your brother doesn't matter anymore. Not while you've got us looking out for you."

"Hm…" Khana felt her face melt at that sentiment, her eyes softening as she muttered, "You'd do that for me?"

"You're family now." Ed grinned. "Hell, I ate the shkho, didn't I?"

She wiped her eyes and laughed. "You did. You even drank the milk Winry put in front of you to deal with the heat. I was impressed, actually. I half expected you to just suffer without any help."

"Nah, I'm tough."

"For a little guy," Khana added—and quickly held her cup in front of her face to remind him of her tea before he started wailing on her like usual when she called him small. "You can't hurt me, I'm sick!"

"You just wait," Ed growled. "After we get that Philosopher's Stone, I'll give you a bruise for every time you call me short!"

Khana cackled as she put her cup back down on the side table. To be honest, the bruises wouldn't compare to being able to live her life without worrying again. She'd like that to come soon.