This isn't, I repeat, IS NOT the final version. Since Chapter 3 was so long, i am posting this PREVIEW until later. I've got about 3/4 of it done and will finish it soon. Please stay tuned!!

THIS FANFICTION IS FAN-MADE AND IS NO WAY ASSOCIATED WITH EITHER ANIME COMPANY IN ANY WAY. ALL COPYRIGHTS GO TO THE RESPECTED OWNERS.

Gunslinger Alchemist: A Crossover Fanfiction

"The boy has a mechanical body, but he is still an adolescent child…"

Chapter 3: A Second Chance to Live, to Laugh

Mustang himself had witnessed the operation being done from a higher level, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The boy was lying unconsciously on the table, a myriad of doctors surrounding his small frame.

The single moment the artificial automail nerves had been connected and the shot blunting his childhood memories was inserted was the first time the boy had opened his eyes in over a month, even though it was only for less than a second. And it was also the moment he was no longer considered a human…

Glancing up at him after waking up in the recovery room, the Colonel was the first person Edward had seen after the operation. The Colonel gave him a somewhat stern, somewhat comforting look. "You're awake, finally. Are you hungry?" he asked rather flatly.

Edward shook head after sitting up against the bed's headboard. "No," he replied, his gaze turning toward his incomplete automail arm, still constricted with wires and tubes, which was lying limply on the bed. The boy moved the metal fingers by himself, in sheer amazement, one after the other. The pain in the movement provoked tears which the boy quickly wiped away.

"The arm at least seems to work well after all; that's good," Mustang said. Reaching into his holster, the Colonel took out the hand gun and put it on the end of the bed.

Edward looked up, confused at the action.

"My name is Colonel Roy Mustang."

…

On the first day of Edward's shooting practice, the eleven-year-old boy was more than a little nervous, seeing as he had never done anything like it before.

It had only been a week after he had released from the hospital after spending little over six months there during rehab, yet he was suddenly whisked off to the Society, their true intentions for him he didn't completely understand. He had no idea why his arm and leg were of replaced with steel equivalents, although he was said to have lost them in an accident years ago. During the time to get accustom to the automail arm, he was issued a wheelchair to get around more easily while the leg had its final touches imputed.

The rehabilitation process in general had been extremely painful, causing frequent trips to the hospital and many modifications. Some days he could barely move on account of the pain and constant fevers. Still, he had been given a room and board and food every day.

He had been told everything that day he woke up in the recovery room by the Colonel, who had supervised his lessons and been at his side ever since. He had said Edward had a special job to do: that no other person in the world could do. The people would be nice to him as long as he did exactly what he was told. Edward trusted his words for the time being.

At the present, the boy stood motionless at the front of the shooting booth holding a small hand gun at his side. Wearing a simple red t-shirt, sandals and shorts, Edward loaded the pistol and cocked it at his side. He had been given countless lessons before he was even allowed to touch it: how to reload it, when and where to aim at the body, etc. He had diligently memorized all the books and instructions, yet he still felt the presence of insecurity within his young mind.

The Colonel was sitting cross legged on a bench, wearing a black coat and pants instead of his regular Military uniform. Getting up from his seat, the instructor briskly walked over to the back of his student.

"Now, stand with your legs apart, that's right, and hold the gun out gently," Mustang instructed, moving the boy's fingers in the right position. Edward did as he was told. "Remember to keep your fingers off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Try aiming for at least the chest area." Mustang pointed toward the black human shaped metal cut-out with target circles seven meters away. "It'll be a bit loud and it'll kick, so don't be scared, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Edward nodded obediently. Aiming carefully towards the cut-out, the boy pulled the trigger releasing a loud bang, making Edward wince. The bullet remarkably ended up striking right at the edge of the inner most circle in the chest area, the bullet casing falling to the concrete floor with a clink.

"Whoa, I can't believe it's your first time to shoot; those prosthetics are something else." Mustang stared in disbelief, hinting at a sign of praise.

Edward bit his lip, looking at the mixed message across the Colonel's face. "Did I do good?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, you did good," Mustang said with a rare smile, ruffling the boy's shaggy blonde hair. "You just keep it up, okay?" he finished urgently, regaining his stature.

The smile on Edward's face slowly grew. He playfully cocked his head and saluted with his uncovered right steel arm. "Yes sir!"

…

"The kid's been getting really good this past year."

"Humph."

"You sound like you don't care about the well fare your own student."

Mustang shot Hughes a glare that was worn down by lack sleep.

"What's with you these days? You look like you lost weight."

Mustang leaned forward and banged his head against the glass window that overlooked the Central Command training field courtyard. The Society members had a private section all to themselves. "Yep," he replied flatly. "I've barely slept these past few months." He loosed his tie and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"It shows. Paperwork piling up, isn't it?" Hughes asked casually, folding the cuffs of his coat sleeves.

Mustang cringed as he nodded. "THEY'VE REALLY GOT IT IN FOR ME, I'M BEING WORKED TO DEATH, I SWEAR!!! ROY MUSTANG: AGE 26, DIED OF EXHAUSION DUE TO PROCRASTINATION!!!" he yelled furiously, throwing up his hands in agony.

"Dammit, Mustang, calm down!" Hughes yelled over his friend, roughly shaking his shoulders.

"Ugh." Mustang limply fell back head first against the window, banging his head again. "Oww…" he muttered, straightening up and rubbing his forehead which was red from the bump. He looked out through the one way glass into the courtyard, watching as a young twelve-year-old came running in from a back entrance. "But I haven't lost sleep over just paperwork…"

The courtyard was just an empty field of dirt that failed to grow anything besides several tuffs of grass here and there and a few wilting leafless trees grouped together. It was mainly used for sparing practices between employees, more recently as a training field for Edward.

A large pile of discarded alchemified dirt weapons, including spears, throwing knives and guns lay forgotten in the corner, crumbling and worn down by the frequent usage and many confrontations. There were hints of burn marks and small randomly scattered ditches where the transmutations were held. Rows of shooting targets were lined up at the rear and a long tape line drawn at ten meters was marked.

Here, Edward practiced everyday with Mustang, more recently by himself, not knowing the teacher still critiqued his student through a one way glass window.

Running out to a bare spot of dirt wearing his new Military jacket Mustang had given him the other day, Edward tied back his now long blonde hair in a high ponytail. Taking in a deep breath he steadily clapped his gloved hands and harshly slammed them on the ground, releasing a spew of bright blue lightning.

The lightning twisted and turned the dirt until it resembled remarkably like a standard Military issued hand gun, leaving a small circle of missing dirt on the ground from the transmutation. This was his kind of alchemy, the rare form without the mandatory requirement of a transmutation circle. After picking up the gun and closely examining the intricate details, he took a few spare bullets form his pocket and loaded the gun. He aimed at a small tuff of grass about a meter away and shot it as a test. It worked perfectly in every respect.

"Not bad, eh Black Hayate?" Edward smirked, turning toward the sweet-faced, medium sized, blank and white dog that had followed him to the field. The dog was frequently seen around the grounds, following random officials and coming and going as he pleased. Secretly, Edward envied his freedom. The dog seemed to belong to Mustang, as he was seen feeding it every day, although he never spoke of it.

Black Hayate barked happily and wagged his tail. Edward knelt down on his knee and smiled warmly, petting the dog's furry little head.

"Good boy! I bet you're hungry, aren't you?"

The dog barked as if it understood and panted.

"Okay, watch this!" Ed smirked and clapped his hands again. Releasing the same blue lightning as before, he once again summoned the powers of alchemy, this time using a pile of dirt and shaping it into a pile of dog treats. "How's that?"

The dog responded by practically pouncing on top of his chest, knocking him to the ground and licking his face as a sort of thank you. "Agh! Ah ha ha ha ha! Stop that, it tickles! You're welcome!" the boy laughed, petting the dog's back...

Mustang suddenly slammed his fist into the glass window, causing it to shake and Hughes to stare at him speechlessly. The Colonel looked up at his student outside who was playing with Riza's dog. He was laughing, smiling, and chasing it playfully around the dirt field.

"He's so innocent out there, only twelve-years-old," Mustang spoke without warning. He leaned his head against his arm which was leaning against the window. "He's getting good, no, really good. He's already taken three missions so far and killed at least ten people."

"I'm not too surprised," Hughes commented. "You've really been beating those lessons into him." He paused. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah." Mustang leaned back and put his hands in his jacket pockets. "What do you think he must feel like now, not having anyone his age to talk to; to call friend?"

Hughes didn't respond.

"Statistics say that in a matter of years he'll outrank Central's top assassins."

"I see."

"But it's not the worst I've heard. They say that," Mustang paused, giving a downcast look to the floor tiling. "the more he understands of his place here, the more he learns that he's killing people, the chance of suicide increases. Besides that, the automail is starting to take a toll on his body. He's already beginning to vomit blood due to stress on the heart. His life will be shortened anyway."

Hughes stared out sadly at Edward who by this time had alchemized another gun, a rifle, and started shooting at the targets with Black Hayate sitting patiently beside him.

"You have no idea how hard it is to train him! Teaching, nevertheless watching, this little brat to wield guns, to kill on command without hesitation; its devastating!!"

"Roy…"

"I hear him at night when I have overtime. He cries out in his sleep, twisting and turning on his bed, calling out to his mother and brother. But I know that in the morning, he'll just laugh it off if I confront him about it. He tries to hind this burden of remembering his past and he's afraid of losing even one of the memories."

"Boys his age are, or at least try to act tough; they try to hide their pain from the rest of the world," Hughes explained carefully.

"That's what I worry about." Mustang gingerly touched the glass with the very tips of his fingers. "And here I am, still watching from afar; I couldn't do anything for him after all."

"You just do your job and look after him. When he confronts you about his past and why he's here and doing what he is, then will be the time to show you really care," he replied calmly with a smile. He took off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief from his pocket.

Mustang sighed in a mused tone, staring out the window into space.

"Just don't do anything "unlawful", okay? It's against policy to show affection." Hughes gripped his friend's shoulder.

The Colonel blushed a deep crimson. "You pervert!! You're the most likely to show affection towards others!!"

"Which reminds me! Look how much Elicia has grown! What a little lady! Isn't that most adorable face you've ever seen?"

"Get that thing away from me! Besides, that's what you said about the last hundred!"

Mustang sped off with Hughes at his heels who was lovingly waving another photo of his daughter.

Just so you know, this is NOT a yaoi royed fanfiction, but you can interpet it that way. This is more of a father/son relationship with Roy watching over Ed which i think is really strong. To tell you the truth, I looked down upon (hated, really) royed but now I'm a bit more tolerant of it. Odd, yes I am. (laughs) Since I knew absolutely nada bout guns I did a little research on them. When looking up Edo's gun I tried to look for a germen WWI-WWII hand gun and rifle because of the time period. God Bless you wikipedia...Anyways, Ed's guns are Walther PPK(hand gun) and MP28.II (rifle) which has an automatic and single setting.