Author's note:
(Disclaimer: I do not own any version of Fullmetal Alchemist or the concept of the series)
I'm not quite sure about the inner workings of a military's hierarchy, but I'm pretty sure that a Lt. Colonel is a high rank...feel free to correct me if I am wrong.
Love,
The sleep-depirved AL
"Can you really do it, Sky?"
Hugh's eager voice echoed in my ears and throughout my brain, bouncing off the walls of my skull as if my head were empty.
The only thing I felt was the strong desire to not open my eyes. The sharp pains that I eventually associated with moving my muscles were so overwhelming that I held my breath to keep my nerves from exploding.
"Shit!"
The voice threw off my concentration and I gasped for air, my eyes flying open involuntarily as I did so.
The pain radiated throughout my body as I started to breathe regularly again, my shriveled lungs crying out in desperation. "Oh, thank God, you're alive."
It took me a second to adjust and to realize that the annoying buzzing noises that filled my head were words from another human being. I stared at the plain white ceiling until the world around me ceased to sway before I paid attention to the other person in the room.
I opened my mouth to speak but the new comer beat me to it.
"Oh here, let me help you up," the person offered. Still staring at the ceiling I didn't have a clue as to who this person could be, but I listened as their feet moved across the floor to where I lay, as they grew closer their shadow fell over me, obscuring the brilliant light attached to the ceiling fan.
The person gently grabbed my elbow, which, much to my surprise, I didn't object to. I clenched my teeth, preparing for the worst, and pushed off of the bed with my other hand.
A sharp, aching feeling tore through and I leaned back against the propped up pillows, exhausted by such a small effort. "See? That wasn't too bad," I now recognized the voice to be male, and slowly turned my head in his direction.
I stared at him as I tried to catch my breath, one deep inhale at a time.
He gave me a small smile and I squinted, trying to focus my vision. Despite my efforts the world still appeared a bit blurry around the edges. He seemed…so familiar…at first glance he reminded me of a boy I went to school with.
His charcoal-colored hair was unkempt, as if he'd just woken up; he wore a lazy expression on his sun-kissed face that told me my suspicions were correct.
Those…eyes, he continued to stare right back at me with dark, soulful eyes. I had seen those eyes somewhere before.
I attempted to speak once again but was having trouble finding my voice. My lungs throbbed with every breath I took and my throat suddenly tightened. I couldn't hold back what was about to come.
I cupped both hands over my mouth, the faint aroma of roses finding its way into my nostrils as I did so. The tickling in the back of my throat became more prominent, until finally I began to cough. My throat burned as I coughed again and again, unable to control the fit. After a minute or two of this I spat out a warm, thick liquid into the palms of my hands.
I swallowed hard, a metallic taste settling over my tongue. I held my hand over the side of the bed to prevent anything from staining the blankets I was under, and watched as my blood trickled from the base of my thumb before becoming little crimson splatter on the wooden floor below.
"Here," the boy offered, pulling his black T-shirt over his head and handing it to me. I wrapped my shaky fingers around it hesitantly, wading in the shallow waters of guilt for having taken his shirt. I was about to wipe my hands when another fit came on, and I held the thin black cloth to my mouth as more blood came up.
"Rolland?"
"Now, where did that boy wander off to now?" Another voice came from the hallway, this one softer, feminine.
I managed to clamp my mouth shut and swallow down a mouthful of my own blood. I wiped the corners of my tearing eyes with my clean pinky finger, desperately hoping that the coughing fits were over.
The boy waited a few heartbeats before answering her and together we listened to the woman as she shuffled from room to room in search of him, "I'm in here Winry."
Some more shuffling occurred until finally a tall, slender woman appeared in the doorway with one hand on her hip and the other holding a glistening silver wrench in the other.
"Oh! You're awake," her voice was soft, motherly almost. I stared back blankly, trying to steady my ragged breathing. The woman smiled sympathetically.
She had loose strands of golden hair framing her pale face while the rest was tied back and pinned up with a small black clip. She too seemed vaguely familiar…
"I came in and she wasn't breathing…hasn't said a word yet but started coughing up blood just a few minutes ago," the boy informed her, his voice grim.
The girl's bright blue eyes were filled with concern and…something else, some foreign emotion that she'd buried deep within her long ago. She stared intently at me, as if I too was a familiar face to her, and she was trying to remember who I was.
"Winry?" The boy asked casually, a touch of confusion lingering in his voice.
"Those eyes…" she murmured thoughtfully, still staring right at me. I pursed my lips together worriedly, trying to make sense of what was going on.
"Huh?" the boy peered at me again, brimming with curiosity.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that they would go away. I didn't want this, these people. I didn't want to be ogled and stared at by strangers.
It was all one bad dream, I told myself; one of those dreams where everything feels familiar but in reality just isn't true.
"Oh, nothing…anyway I called your father a few hours ago, he's coming over now," I opened my eyes hesitantly to see that they were speaking to one another, their attention no longer focused on me.
All color immediately drained from the boy's face, "You did what?"
"Normally I wouldn't have done anything but this is such a strange situation that I thought it best to see what he thinks about it."
The boy frowned, "What does he think?"
"He should be here any-" she stopped mid-sentence and narrowed her eyes suspiciously; "Wait, why? What's this all about?"
"And what happened to your shirt?" I couldn't help but crack a smile at her bewildered tone. I looked down at the damp black fabric that was clenched between my quivering fingers.
"Uh…don't worry about it; anyway my Dad hasn't got a clue that I'm here right now! He's going to freaking kill me!"
"Quit shouting! You're going to wake up Grandma," she scolded him in a hushed voice.
The two glared at each other, the tension building in the air between them. I opened my mouth once again, about to break the tension that had been building when a loud knocking noise stopped me.
"Speak of the devil," the boy huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "He's going to wake the entire town up," the woman muttered and stormed quietly out of the room. I stared at the plain white walls and listened as the front door creaked open. The woman's polite voice carried through halls, although I couldn't make out exactly what she was saying.
I looked over at the boy who stood quietly; his once friendly face was now etched with anticipation.
"What is going on?" I managed to force the quiet, feeble words off of my reluctant tongue and into the air.
He looked at me, surprised. With a sigh he unfolded his arms and gave me a whimsical, side-ways glance,
"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang has arrived."
I clenched my fists so hard that I could feel my nails digging through the shirt in my hands. A great, aching began in the tips of my tightened fingers and slowly crawled its way up, past my wrists, and then my elbows.
The man whom I assumed to be Roy Mustang stepped through the door, his large black boots sounded heavy against the feeble wood floors. I glanced from the man, and then to his son, astounded by the resemblance that that boy bore to his father.
They were both tall and lean, well-built with dark, intense eyes and coal-colored hair, although Mustang's hair was much shorter, and the man was overall more clean-shaven than Rolland appeared to be.
Something moved right behind him, and I noticed that he was accompanied by another woman.
Fear was beginning to seep through my veins…I had to get out, to get away. Far away from that foreign place filled with strange people.
I watched silently as Roy Mustang let out a deep sigh and raised one hand to his forehead, "What are you doing here? Your report said that you had been given direct orders to stay in Central."
The Lieutenant Colonel had closed his eyes and wasn't even looking at his son as he spoke.
Rolland shifted uneasily, as if he were trying to think of a quick excuse when Winry cut it, "I asked him to come…I, uh, had a shipment of auto mail parts that got lost somewhere down in Central and asked if he wouldn't mind bringing then to me…"
She had a hopeful, yet slightly guilty smile on her face as Mustang looked over at her, annoyance swimming in his dark brown eyes.
He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, and turned back to his son, "And what the hell happened to your shirt?"
There it was again, the soft tickling feeling was beginning to creep back up my throat. Rolland began his sentence but I couldn't quite hear his words as I cleared my throat, trying to rid it of the bothersome feeling.
I let out a small cough, and then another, and before I knew it I was dry heaving into the shirt once again. Maybe the strangers were moving in the room around me, if they were speaking I couldn't hear their words. All sounds had been drowned out by the pounding in my ears as I gulped down again in an attempt to force my body to behave.
Once I had quit coughing, I realized that the attention in the room had turned to me. I stared warily back at all four of them and wiped away the drops of fresh blood from the corners of my mouth.
"Where did you find her?" Roy Mustang asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his navy blue slacks.
"She was laying in the ruins…of...the Elric's old house," Winry informed him quietly, it sounded as if saying the name out loud was painful for her.
Elric? I narrowed my eyes, contemplating whether I'd heard correctly or not.
The woman who stood beside Mustang inhaled deeply, her warm amber eyes wide with surprise. Mustang raised an eyebrow and his son picked it up from there, "Yeah…I saw her when I was on my way over here with Winry's delivery."
I diverted my eyes away from Mustang and focused on the woman standing patiently at his side. She was a few inches shorter than Winry and her hair, which was a darker blonde, had been tied back in a similar fashion. She gazed at me thoughtfully; her presence was almost…peaceful.
"Has she-"
"Don't speak of me as if I'm not in the room," I croaked hoarsely, struggling to get the words out. The confusion that earlier rattled my brain was simmering down and I was beginning to think clearly as my energy started to come back to me.
The four of them turned to me, like they'd forgotten I was there to begin with.
"W-What do you know ab-bout the Elrics?" The words stumbled clumsily out of my mouth.
Roy Mustang narrowed his eyes and countered, "What do you know about the Elrics?"
"I asked you first."
The room fell silent as we glared at one another. A few heartbeats went by before Mustang smirked, amusement plastered on his handsome face, "It doesn't work like that in the military kid."
"It's a good thing I'm not one of you then-isn't it?" The more I spoke, the stronger my speech was getting, bringing my confidence back with it.
"How does she know about them?" The woman beside Mustang whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
"The brothers may be gone, but their legacy lives on through the people they've saved," Rolland answered simply. He seemed to be the only one who didn't look pained when the Elrics were mentioned. Mustang continued to stare at me, his eyes unwavering.
"It's not like I am going to just open up to some kid and let her in on every detail I know of Edward and Alphonse."
My heart skipped a beat when he said their names. So I hadn't been mistaken after all.
"I am a relative of theirs!" I blurted out on accident. I could my face flush as they turned to me with wide eyes and skeptical looks. Winry's, who had been silent the entire time, mouth had dropped open in surprise for a brief second, but she quickly composed herself.
Even in my numbed state I still retained enough common sense to know when to withhold information.
"That isn't possible," Winry declared, folding her arms across her chest. "Let's hear her out," Mustang muttered solemnly.
I took a deep breath, embracing the pain as I peeled back the downy quilt that had been covering me. Slowly I swung my legs over the side of the bed and let myself slide down onto the floor. I noted that I was wearing a simple, pale gray night gown that fell down to my knees, something that I hadn't remembered being a part of my wardrobe. The cool air felt nice against my trembling legs as I tapped into every last reserve of energy that my body could possibly have. I held out my slightly shaking hand toward Mustang and tried to put on a smile, "Skyla Elric, sir, I am the daughter or Edward Elric, nice to meet you."
I froze, unsure of what his reaction would be. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the small glimmer of a tear beginning to form in Winry's pale blue eyes, but then I quickly changed my mind and decided I was mistaken. The woman exchanged an unfamiliar glance with Rolland, as if she were trying to convey something without having to speak the words out loud.
He took my hand and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, "I first met your father in this same room, of course the little twit didn't have the courtesy of getting out of bed and introducing himself…"
"Roy he only had one leg," Winry pointed out dutifully.
"Oh…yeah," he coughed, as if it were a minor clerical error or something like that.
…One leg...a memory of me as a young girl flashed in my mind. I had wandered into my father's room in with high hopes that he would coax the fear out of me after a bad nightmare. I stood in the doorway and watched him groggily make his way out of bed. As I did so I caught a glimpse of his prosthetic leg, the light from our hallway reflected off of the bolts on his ankle, causing the silver to sparkle.
"How do we know she isn't lying?" The woman's voice brought me back to reality. I was beginning to feel light-headed after standing for so long.
"Well of course she is Edward's daughter, don't you see her eyes?"
Startled, we all turned our gazes to the doorway where a stout, elderly stood, tightly clutching her wooden cane. "G-Grandma?" Winry asked softly before going to the old woman's aid.
The woman hobbled over to me, and for once I was able to look down at someone as they spoke rather than up at them to see their eyes. She had silvery-gray hair that barely reached the shoulders of her pale pink night gown. She peered at me through thick, wire-framed for a moment or two before speaking again, "She's got Edward's eyes alright, they've got that look in them."
She stretched out her hand to me, "The name's Pinako, I'm Winry's grandmother if you couldn't tell."
"It's very nice to meet you," I smiled politely and shook her small, knobby hand.
"Well this is much more serious than I thought," Roy Mustang muttered, sounding almost distraught. My legs began to ache the longer I stood and I found myself suddenly regretting ever getting out of that bed. Winry clapped her hands together, breaking the silence that had dispersed throughout the room after Mustang's comment.
"Well then," she began, seeing that it was going to be a long night, "I'll put on some tea."
The fresh scent of chamomile wafted through the air. The black kettle's high pitched screech still rang in my ears as Winry handed each one of us a steaming mug. After going around the room, she herself finally sat down beside her grandmother. I picked up my cup and brought it cautiously up to my lips as I waited for someone to speak. I usually didn't like tea very much, but this time I found the warm liquid comforting as it slid soothingly down my scratchy throat.
"It seems that you have some explaining to do," Roy Mustang said casually and leaned back in the wooden table chair that he sat in.
His words slowly sunk in…and the more I thought of what he had just said, the more frustrated I became. "I have explaining to do?" my voice was still hoarse, and even when trying to be loud I was barely above a whisper, "What the hell is going on? Why am I here?"
I realized that all of a sudden I was standing, grasping the cup with both hands, looking like a fool. I let out a small, embarrassed cough and sat back down. I let out a deep sigh and placed the cup back on the coffee table. The woman, whom I had learned was named Riza Hawkeye, opened her mouth to speak but I cut in, "I…I just want to go home."
I was ashamed at how defeated I had sounded…but I was too tired to fight back anymore. Deciding to hold her tongue, Riza pursed her lips together softly and threw Mustang a stern look. As she did so, I happened to notice the shimmering silver ring that she wore on her left hand. That's when it hit me. She was most likely Mustang's wife and Rolland's mother. Disappointment lingered in the back of my mind; I was surprised that I hadn't put two and two together earlier on.
"We can't get you home if we don't know where you came from, daughter of Edward," Mustang leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his eyebrows raised suspiciously. I wasn't quite sure what to think of this man and his condescending tone…
I caught a glimpse of Rolland smirking as Hawkeye threw Mustang another stern look. "Fine," I raised my hands in defeat, "I will go first then."
I rested my palm against my forehead, trying to pull back some sort of memory, but all I got were snippets, like a puzzle that had pieces missing. I pushed aside the blurry pictures and told of things that I could remember. "I live in Munich, although I have overheard my father talking to my uncle sometimes about heading to London."
They all stared at me blankly; as if I had just told them that I live in some fantasy world filled with fairies and other varieties of mythical creatures. "…It is in Germany," I clarified, although most Europeans were familiar with where Munich was located.
"Where do you think you are right now?" Winry's grandmother asked, sounding slightly troubled.
"Well I was hoping that one of you would be able to tell me."
It wasn't until Rolland piped in and informed me that I was in a town called Resembool that realized I was much farther from home than I had originally thought.
"How did you get here? It's all about the how," Mustang said knowingly, staring at me intently. I bit my lip and replied hesitantly, "It's all a bit blurry…I-I had found a book in my father's study," as I spoke an image of the black leather book flashed in my mind, "I came across it by accident, a-and there were some strange things written in there. It spoke of a law…one of…"
"Equivalent exchange," Mustang finished for me, looking grave.
I nodded, the more I talked the clearer the singed memories became. "I read through it, after all, it wasn't like anything I had ever seen before. It was a book of alchemy, it said. I had heard that term used before in a few of my classes, but it was referred to as a dead science…I didn't think it actually worked."
I paused, yet no one stepped up to fill the silence so I continued on, "I read it again and again, I was fascinated by such an idea. I dreamt of practicing it and being successful, that I would show the world that it was more than some lost idea,"
My hands were beginning to tremble.
"We were having my aunt and uncle over for dinner…I hadn't seen the two of them or my cousins in weeks which was unusual since we were always so close. I had a pie baking after dinner," I hesitated, retracing the steps of what had happened that evening, "and I thought that it would be a good time to show the boys the tricks I'd read of, the alchemy. So the three of us went off into my room and I explained to them the basics, or at least what I understood of the subject."
I didn't like being on the spot and started to fidget uncomfortably as my memories progressively flowed back into my mind.
"I drew out a symbol on the floor," I paused and redrew the basic structure of the symbol in the air, "like that."
"A transmutation circle," Riza muttered quietly.
I looked up at the ceiling, wishing that I could gaze upon the night time sky and watch as the stars twinkled above our heads, "I was to transform a sheet of paper into a rose."
I could hear my voice quivering as I spoke, "The paper I was using gave me a cut on my finger and I got a bit of blood on the floor boards, but I took no real notice of it. The pie was almost ready and I began the process, just as the book had told me…"
My voice grew softer as I strolled down the winding road of the memories of a night or two ago.
"At first it was magical, wonderful blue light had surrounded us but something happened, something went wrong a-and then the shadows came and started to eat away at the light. I couldn't see them anymore, or hear anything, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe," my throat constricted and I knew my eyes would soon begin to tear. "…and then, it was over. As I slept I dreamt of two great, black doors. There was an eye in the center of the two doors. When it stared at me I felt cold, empty even. The doors opened…and…and then I woke up and found myself here."
I dug my nails into the inside of my thumb in an attempt to silently fight back the tears that were beginning to swell in my eyes.
"Roy?" Hawkeye asked softly. The Lieutenant Colonel had his face buried in his hands. He looked up with a sigh, "Damnit, I destroyed the gate on this side…I thought those boys had done the same thing…it shouldn't have opened like that. This is much more serious than I thought."
I jumped back, startled, as Winry stood up swiftly, her hands clenched into fists by her side.
"How can you talk about this like this is a bad thing? If the gate is open again then we can get bring Ed and Al back home!"
"Winry…" Pinako began, but she had already excused herself and stormed out of the room.
The room fell quiet and sleep began to wash over the confused mess of tissue formerly known as my brain. Hawkeye gently touched Mustang's arm, muttering something too quiet for anyone else but him to hear. Rolland sat with his head in his hands, looking just about as confused as I was-I hadn't noticed that he was wearing a plain white T-shirt now.
"Well," Pinako stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her night gown, "It is late, and the trip back to Central City isn't a short one. I expect you all will be staying with us tonight. Roy, Riza I'll prepare the guest room for the two of you, Rolland can sleep on the couch-Oh, and I will make up a bed for you in Winry's room."
"Thank you Pinako," Riza Hawkeye smiled gratefully and stood up, "I'll clear the cups."
The elderly woman nodded and headed off down the hall. I was bursting with curiosity, but was afraid to ask just what exactly was going on. I opened my mouth hesitantly, finally summing up enough courage to confront Mustang when he suddenly spoke.
"Listen closely, because what I am about to tell you may come as a bit of a surprise."
"Okay," I nodded warily, watching as he leaned back in his seat. I was ready for some answers no matter how bizarre they turned out to be.
"Do you believe in the concept of a parallel world?"
I bit my lip, curious as to where he was going with this, "I have never given it much thought."
"I'm afraid that you are very, very far from home. This world is not your own."
"Excuse me?" for some reason this barely hit me, and I was more concerned about the back story behind it all.
Mustang nodded as his wife began to clear the cups and set them in the kitchen, "Alchemists analyze, break down, and reconstruct the matter around them. This science is possible in our world-we have been able to harness its abilities. When Edward and Alphonse were young, they attempted to resurrect their deceased mother using alchemy. Although we can accomplish many things through alchemy, human transmutation isn't one of them."
I nodded, barely following what he was getting at.
"When they tried their hand at human transmutation it went horrible wrong. They came across a gate, the gate between worlds. The years following their little fiasco more information about the gate was revealed. In the end Edward wound up on the other side of the gate, in the world in which you were born."
"Like a parallel universe?"
"Similar to that, yes," he nodded, "Alphonse, however, stayed in this world. The other world was one without alchemy; they had a different way of life and advances in technology. People from that new world discovered how to open the gate from their side, and attempted to conquer our world."
It was beginning to sound more like a dramatic play than a real story, "What happened?"
"We forced them back into their own world, and when we did Edward and Alphonse returned with them. We had made an agreement-I would destroy the gate from this side, while they would destroy it from their own."
I let this new knowledge sink in to digest. My family was in an entirely different world?
"When you attempted that transmutation I believe you re-opened the gate somehow, and went through from your world into ours."
"My dream…" I gasped, putting the pieces together. Those big, carved doors had loomed over me, the laughs of the shadow children as they pulled me inside…
Lost souls maybe? Or people who were trapped in the gate long ago, unable to make it through.
"Lieutenant Colonel, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
He shook his head, "Go ahead."
"How did my father lose his arm and leg?" Out of all of the questions that were swarming around in my head, the one that was least relevant to our conversation had been the one I had subconsciously decided to blurt out.
Mustang took a deep breath, "During that human transmutation I told you of. Edward lost his arm and leg in the gate, and Alphonse his body. Ed was able to attach his younger brother's soul to a suit of battle armor to prevent his soul from also being lost in the gate forever…It was the price they paid, after all, equivalent exchange escapes no one."
A moment of silliness passed over me as I tried to imagine my passive uncle in a large, bulky suit of steel.
"Alphonse gained his body back over time-Edward still missing his limbs?"
I nodded, growing increasingly more tired by the second.
Lieutenant Colonel Mustang stood up, "I understand that this is a lot to take in. Sleep on it, and we will continue to discuss the situation tomorrow."
I too stood up, my limbs aching as I do so, "Thank you sir."
I glanced to my left as Mustang began to walk away, but Rolland had gone. As I made my way to Winry's room I couldn't help but wonder at what point in the conversation he had left, and where exactly it was that he had gone off to.
"So you're Edward's daughter?"
I nodded politely while trying to hold back a fit of coughing.
Winry smiled and sighed dreamily, "Edward and Alphonse were my two best friends growing up."
I let out a small cough, grateful when I didn't taste even a hint of blood. I pulled the blanket that had been resting on my shoulders around me tighter.
"Really?"
She nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside me.
"I never saw either of them as the marrying type…but time changes people," her voice was filled with nostalgia as she spoke, and I suddenly felt terribly guilty-my presence having opened up an old wound for so many people.
"My father was never married. Uncle Al, on the other hand, has been married to my aunt Sophia for almost ten years now."
She giggled, "I remember Al once told me that he was never going to fall in love…but he was just a kid then."
"Things change," I nodded, reinstated her original idea.
"Edward never tied the knot..." she muttered thoughtfully.
"Mm hmm. I don't know much about my mother, only that she wasn't with my father for very long and left me with him right after I was born. She came back to us five years later but only lived with us for a month or two before she passed away." It was a strange feeling, talking about my mother. The subject had been very hushed around my father and I only knew snippets of what my uncle had told me, since my memories of her were too vague to be relied on as a liable source.
"I'm so sorry…I grew up without a mother too."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
"My parents were medics in a civil war that occurred a long time ago…I was just a young girl. They were killed by a state alchemist because they were helping both sides…"
I wasn't quite sure what a state alchemist was, but I still smiled sympathetically, "I guess life never turns out how we hope it will."
She lied down on her back and replied thoughtfully, "Yeah…"
With that our conversation continued, sprouting off into deep, uncharted territories. It surprised me how easily we were able to open up to one another, and tell of the things that lied in our heavy hearts. I felt as if I were talking to a close friend rather than a woman who was nearly my father's age.
She spoke of her husband, who had died on duty, and of her passion for constructing auto-mail, which I had learned were prosthetic body parts made of metal.
We talked until finally, our weary heads hit the pillows. Winry's soft, steady breathing filled the room as she drifted into a deep sleep, while I lied on the floor and stared at the bland ceiling. I was exhausted, aching, and sore yet sleep refused to come.
I slipped out from beneath my covers and quietly pushed off of the ground with my hands. I wobbled a bit before I found my sense of balance and then silently tip-toed out of the room.
It was nice to finally be outside it in chilled autumn air. Getting out of the house had been a bit trickier than I'd originally expected when I stumbled, literally, across a small black puppy guarding the front door.
"You made it past the guard dog? Impressive."
I jumped, startled by the presence of another person. I looked around until finally I spotted Rolland, leaning against a small wooden table with his hands in his pockets. "Hah, yeah," I replied awkwardly, my mind still hazy.
"So what are you doing out here?" He asked casually before turning his back to me. I raised my eyebrows curiously, "Couldn't sleep…why are you out here?"
He shrugged, "Cleaning."
"…So you come outside during your spare time…to clean?" My voice sounded a bit more skeptical than I had meant it to. I slowly eased over to where he was standing by the table, and sure enough it was true. He was wiping down a slender silver wrench with an old rag. "I would build something but there isn't enough light to properly see when it's this late, not to mention the morning dew would cause the auto-mail to rust."
Again, I was gradually putting the pieces together.
"You're an auto-mail mechanic?"
"Well," he began and turned back to face me, "sort of."
"Explain yourself," I sighed, I was too tired to be playing head games.
"My true passion isn't necessarily auto-mail; it's more being a mechanic. I've been in love with it since I was young, but my father always chose not to see it. He wants me to do something productive with my life, to help our country. Really I think he's just trying to covet more people for when he makes a move at the president's position. Anyway he started me off in a training program for soldiers and now that that is over with I'm stuck being an assistant until I can work my way up into a higher position."
"But you don't want to." I stated more for my understanding rather than his.
When he nodded, wisps of black hair fell over his dark, concentrated eyes. He ran a black-smudged hand through his charcoal-colored hair, pushing it out of his face.
"I've always wanted him-them, to be so proud of me…I just can't get the guts to tell either of my parents that I don't want to be part of their little game. The military is their thing, they've been a part of it for ages but it's something I don't want to do. Winry's sort of taken me on as a part time apprentice, so I sneak out here whenever I can."
"Is Riza your mom?" I wasn't quite sure why I was asking him this, since I was already pretty sure of the answer.
"Yeah," I could make out a small smile beginning to form on his face. I had to squint to see everything in the darkness, with the only light coming from the clusters of stars above us. The moon was nowhere to be found.
"So you're the alleged daughter of Edward, eh?"
"No," I corrected him, "I am Edward's daughter."
"Okay, okay," he held up his hands before exchanging the wrench for a rusted bolt, "no need to get defensive…so what about your dad? Is he as psychotic as mine?"
I let out a small laugh, "Sometimes. I barely remember my mother, she wasn't around until I was five…and even then she ended up committing suicide, so it's been just the two of us for a while. He's always been accepting of what I wanted to do with my life, who I wanted to be."
Rolland smiled, "He seems like a good father…what do you want to be?"
It felt strange, chatting as if nothing had happened and we were simply two people who had met on the street or in a train. "He is," I returned the smile; "All I've ever wanted to do was paint, but my dad is kind of like yours…he wants me to be successful and productive and a life of an artist is far from glamorous. I got a couple of my instructors to write me recommendation letters…and I applied to one of the most prestigious art schools in Paris…I mentioned it to him but the subject was quickly dropped. Just a week or two ago I received my acceptance letter…but even if I told him, he wouldn't have let me go…and now…"
I grew quiet and started to twirl a strand of thread between my fingers.
He set down the bolt and rag and looked up at the night sky with a whimsical look on his face,
"I wonder when they'll realize that these are our lives."
I nodded, and we both stood there thoughtfully for a few heartbeats. I took a deep, wheezy breath and decided to press on, "Winry was married?"
"Yeah, Liam was a good guy."
"Oh, she didn't tell me much…only that he died on the battlefield."
Rolland picked up his rag again, "That's what she was told by the military, but the truth is no one really knows. His records report that fellow soldiers witnessed him shot once in each shoulder and then he fell to the ground. But when medics were called out to recover him, the body was gone, no trace of blood or anything."
I must have looked impressed…or confused, either way he laughed and clarified, "I have access to most military files and documents, it doesn't hurt that my father is such a high rank either. Everything is supposed to be extremely confidential but he still slips up every once in a while and tells me about cases that normally I wouldn't know of."
He leaned back against the table again, and turned to me, "Why don't I give you a rundown of everything?"
I smiled, amused, "Sure."
"Currently, you're in Resembool. This is rural, small town Amestris. Then you've got the capital of Amestris-Central City, it's where most military command takes place…"
As he began to speak, I realized that this was the first time in days that I had smiled or laughed.
"The leader of the country is Stephen Beckett. The previous Fürer, King Bradley was revealed to be a homunculus, which is an artificial human created through the means of alchemy. Once Bradley was killed and stripped of his throne, Beckett was the first snake to take charge which resulted in his presidency. He's a spineless creep and has done no good with this country. In the beginning things were alright, but then his corruption began to show. The general public has been too focused on the wars that they haven't stopped to think about who is the person responsible for all of the fighting. Just recently Beckett fell ill and now no one knows what is going to happen."
"Roy Mustang is trying to get his piece of the throne?"
Rolland nodded, "Several high ranking military officials are hell bent on succeeding Beckett, they all just want the power. My dad may not be the best guy for the position, but he's a hell of a lot better than most of the current candidates."
"Speaking of your dad…if you don't mind my asking…how'd he get that scar on his face?"
It was something I hadn't quite noticed at first but had become more apparent as the evening went on. Mustang had a large, rounded scar extending from his left eye.
Rolland laughed, "Don't point it out to him or he'll get all depressed. He still thinks he's the same stud he was back when he was twenty-nine. My father was the one who killed King Bradley, back in the day. He was leaving the battle when this crazy military guy named Archer shot him, missing his eye but just a few centimeters. He should have lost his entire eye, but my mom was there and shot Archer at the same time that he fired and he ended up falling to the ground, which softened the blow of his original bullet or something weird like that."
"Wow, dramatic," I commented, impressed.
He nodded and cracked a smile, "Hah, yeah…they've been through a lot together."
I looked back up at the ever expansive sky, "It seems like they all have."