A/N: this is quickly becoming my favorite finals escaping pastime. hooah, escapism!
Part 2: Berlin, Summer 1924
"You can blink, brother. He's not going to disappear on you."
Al watched his brother shake himself out of his semi-trance. It seemed to take an almost herculean amount of effort for Ed to tear his eyes away from the unconscious figure resting on their couch. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the expected look of embarrassment and indignation settle on Ed's face.
"I wasn't," Ed protested weakly, but abandoned his defense when he realized how feeble his objection sounded. He ran a hand through his bangs, a nervous gesture he'd never quite managed to shake off. It was a comforting legacy of the time they'd spent together searching for the stone. "All the shit we've been through, everything that we've seen, and I still can't believe this is happening."
"I know," Al said, sympathetic. And he knew exactly why Ed was frustrated. After the invasion on Central and their willing exile to the other side of the Gate, Ed had resolved to make this world their permanent home once and for all. It was part of why he was so adamant about retrieving the bomb. Ed didn't like the possibility, didn't like the hope, that they might be able to go home again. Because every single one of their encounters with the Gate left them more fragmented than the last, until Ed had finally concluded that dealing with the Gate was like asking yourself to be punched in the face, and his solution was to abstain from it altogether.
Which Al had agreed with, eventually, because it wasn't a matter that he felt too strongly about. Because wherever his brother was, was home enough for him. He'd spent two years wandering around Amestris feeling like half a person, he'd walk the rest of his life on Earth if it meant being by his brother's side.
Or at least knowing that he was within reach—close as siblings were, Al figured he would eventually need breathing room. He was just catching up on lost time, now.
Al was content with the simplicity of being with his brother, and he knew that the reverse was true for his brother. But perhaps, not quite to the same extent. Al had adjusted to life across the Gate well enough—alchemy wasn't everything, of course—but Ed, even having two years on him in this world, had more difficulty doing so.
He was, in a word, homesick.
Al didn't care about returning to Amestris. But Al did care about Ed wanting to return to Amestris, and that was reason enough to consider the possibility.
Within limits. Because he would sooner die before seeing another invasion of Central. It was either do it right or not at all.
"We can't treat him like the General," Al told him, in case it needed to be said. He watched Ed take a deep breath, his way of reaching for calm.
"I know." Ed looked like he'd been caught out, face pinched but still solemn. Al knew that even as Ed had grown up, he was still reaching for familiarity in a man who reminded him of home. Even if their relationship did consist mostly of sarcastic remarks and witty rejoinders.
The question needed to be asked. "Are you thinking of asking him—"
"No." Ed's eyes were steely. "This is home, now."
Except that it wasn't, not for Ed.
Al let his gaze slide over to settle on Mustang, deep in slumber, blissfully unaware of the problem he'd unwittingly dropped into their laps after a year of coming to terms with their new life.
A concession, then. Al would put this argument on the side-burner until the time was right to discuss it again. A mischievous smile crept across his face.
"At least thank him."
He watched the tension visibly drain from Ed's face. This was familiar territory. "We could have gotten out on our own eventually. Probably."
As they watched over the older man, Al pretended not to notice how Ed reached for Roy, fingers extended close enough to brush black hair. Aborted at the last second, as if the act of touching him would bring him home.
What a dream, Roy thought groggily as he fought his way through mental fog and back into the waking world. Elrics from an alternate universe breaking into government labs for uranium bombs, an older Edward in unusually dull colors, and a restored Alphonse. As far as dreams went, probably not the worst dream to have. Reality was nightmare enough for him, seriously. Consider his life and a government run by homunculi and a nationwide transmutation circle. Life did not get any worse than that.
Except when it did.
"Well, look who's up," a singsong voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter. If he'd known that Edward's voice was more effective than any alarm clock, he'd have replaced his own ages ago. "Catch up your beauty sleep, princess?"
He meant to say something witty, something classy, something to be written down in the annals of time to go down as the best retort made in all of recorded history. Something like 'something you could use more of yourself, Elric.'
Instead, what came out was, "mmph."
Embarrassing.
Roy finally opened his eyes to the sight of Edward Elric in atypically muted colors. He wore a white, high-collar dress shirt complimented by a brown waistcoat and matching slacks. He was missing the brown overcoat he'd been wearing during their poorly-planned mission in the laboratory. On the whole, he looked strangely mature for Edward, and Roy wondered exactly how old the young man standing before him was. Certainly older than his own subordinate, whose face he remembered clearly, disintegrating before his eyes…
Roy shoved himself upright in a fit of panic, startling the young man hovering over him. He'd been so caught up in the hijinks of this world, he'd completely forgotten about his own. He'd left Riza back in that underground lair in the same room as Bradley and Pride, what the hell was he thinking? There was no way they would survive the encounter without him—or even with him, given the ease with which he'd been taken down by Bradley, he'd never been good at close-quarters combat—
"Hey, whoa there, Roy! Calm down, you're okay!"
—and then there was Fullmetal, arms on his shoulders, grounding him to reality again. Sense reasserted itself as Roy grappled with the lines of reasoning that kept him sane. There was no reason to believe that time flowed continuously, flowed to scale and in parallel, with the world he was in. If he ever got back—no, when he got back, he'd come back immediately back to when he left, if he could help it. It was easier to think, to breathe, if he thought of himself as outside of time.
And displaced in space.
"Thank you," Roy said, and Edward let go of him hesitantly, like he was concerned he might flip out on him again. Roy couldn't blame him. He'd been just that close to hyperventilating, and he was sorry that Fullmetal had to see him like that, lost in a moment of weakness.
"It's no problem," Fullmetal offered, a little cautiously. His reaction was the opposite of what he might have expected from the Edward he knew. He'd expected a lot more teasing, and he supposed this was another way that this Edward differed from his own. How old was he, again? "Want to, um, tell me about it?"
Roy couldn't help the way his eyebrows rose. That was unusually considerate of him to offer, but Roy wasn't quite comfortable enough with him to expound overmuch on his fears. But he wasn't going to outright reject the offer. "I was just thinking about the people and the situation I left behind before I came here. It wasn't good."
"Okay." Fullmetal caught on quickly, though he got the impression he'd be asked about it later. "Are you hungry? It's about time for lunch."
"It is?" Out of habit, Roy pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. It told him it was still seven in the morning. Of course it would have, Roy mentally reprimanded himself, it was still set to the time in the world he'd left behind. A chuckle from Edward brought him out of his musings. Roy gave him a questioning look as he noted the time on the small analog clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen and set to adjusting the time on his watch.
"That old thing," Edward explained, eyes strangely fond. Roy didn't need much more explanation, but he continued nonetheless. "When I crossed over the first time, I lost everything in my possession. Including that damn watch."
"It's only symbolic here," Roy said, pocketing it again and getting to his feet. He winced as he pulled a muscle. "Not a dog of anything, now."
"The uniform says otherwise," Edward teased, shuffling over to the entrance to pull his brown coat off the rack, along with Roy's own black trench coat. "Speaking of which, you might want to think about a change in attire while you're here."
Roy looked down at himself and smiled wryly. Of course. He'd grown so used to wearing his uniform day in and day out, it was practically a second skin. To think that he was in a world where the state uniform was an uncommon sight was more than a little mind-boggling, but Roy was game if it meant going plainclothes. Life was more fun out of uniform anyway. "Any suggestions?"
"Style here's not so different than in Amestris," Edward told him, handing him his coat and pulling his own on. "Wear what you'd wear normally, not much to it. But if you're having trouble, I can make a few suggestions."
Roy figured by that tone of voice Fullmetal was picturing him in clothing he'd sooner burn than wear. "I've got it, thanks," he said dryly. He put his hands together, fixed the appropriate array in his mind, and touched his fingers to his chest, sending a shock of blue light down his uniform. In the next moment, he was sporting black slacks, the original dress shirt he wore under his uniform shirt, and a matching black suit jacket.
"Showoff," Edward mumbled, head tilted to the side as if a crooked perspective would make his outfit look different. "You are going tell me how you can do that here, right?"
"If you tell me where we're going, first," Roy replied, shrugging on his overcoat.
"Soup kitchen," Edward said only, and Roy's mind suddenly ground to a halt. Soup kitchen? Just what kind of employment did the boys have in this world and what was the state of the economy such that soup kitchens were a necessity? Roy realized he knew next to nothing about the world he was in, and resolved to pump Fullmetal for information as soon as possible. Roy moved to walk through the door Edward held open for him, descending the stairs, two flights, until they reached the streets.
"Let's talk," Roy said, carefully observing his companion's expressions. Edward visibly steeled himself for the talk ahead. "Let's start with yesterday's events."
"Do you maybe remember a mission where you sent me to Southern Amestris to talk to a man about a uranium bomb? His invention. He wanted a state alchemist to introduce him to the brass?"
Roy let Edward guide them along unfamiliar streets. Roy, as a rule, did not send Fullmetal on many missions on behalf of the state. Edward's focus as a state alchemist had been primarily the restoration of his and his brother's bodies, and the brat had always protested loudly whenever one of those missions crossed his desk. As such, it was a short list, and Roy could not remember such a mission. "No, I don't believe that I ever sent you on a mission like that." At least in his continuity.
Edward seemed to deflate. "Ah, well, it didn't go well. Long story short, I kind of provoked him to open the Gate and his bomb ended up on this side." He scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "My fault, so I had to get it back, you understand?"
Roy made a thoughtful sound to show he was still following. Fullmetal was, as he'd come to know in his long years of association with the boy, was as headstrong as they came. But more than anything else, he had a sense of responsibility that outclassed all else. And that was why he hated being in debt to others; his constant insistence on shouldering the price of his mistakes would keep him from accepting help when it wasn't absolutely necessary. Which was why using a philosopher's stone, after knowing what went into one, was out of the question for the boy when it came to fixing their bodies. Even if those souls were hypothetically willing to sacrifice themselves in exchange for Alphonse's body and his arm and leg, he'd reject it.
What was more interesting was the Gate.
"Tell me about what you know of the Gate," Roy asked him, careful not to phrase it as an order. He would have to get into the habit of treating this Edward as an equal. Roy half-expected Fullmetal to refrain and demand information in exchange first, but he surprised him again by letting it go. They were within sight of the soup kitchen by now, and they both got into line for their portions.
"Facts first, I suppose. The Gate is the source of all alchemical energy," Edward said, looking up at him with hooded eyes. It wasn't a pleasant topic for them both, Roy understood this. "It also links Earth and our world together. The relationship between the two worlds," Edward waved a hand in the air in a complicated motion, "is a little morbid. People that die on this side, their souls are converted into energy which is used by alchemists in Amestris to catalyze alchemic reactions."
Okay, that was worse than he'd expected. "That is more than just a little morbid." He took a second to digest this as Edward handed him a metal bowl of diluted chowder. "Our transmutations harness the energy created by tectonic plate movement."
Roy looked over just in time to witness Edward dribbling soup out of his mouth in shock. "What, seriously?" And he could almost see how Fullmetal's mind was making the leaps of logic only his prodigious mind could produce. "That could answer a whole shit ton of things, including how you power your alchemy here, but then the Gate…"
Alright, now he was just withholding information. Roy sent him a sharp look. "Sorry, sorry, let me explain. Wherever you go, you're still able to power your transmutations because of the constant presence of tectonic movement. I mentioned that alchemy only goes one way in these two linked universes, and we're on the wrong side of it, so it makes sense I'm not able to power it." That sounded right, and he nodded for Edward to continue. "Hypothetically, we also differ in the way that we are able to access the Gate to harness this energy. It seems like we're playing by two sets of rules here."
"If I were to be using your world's Gate rules," Roy supposed, gesturing with his spoon, "I would be, hypothetically, playing by your universe's rules."
"And you wouldn't be able to do alchemy," Edward's eyes glittered with the light of a new challenge, a researcher's paradise. "So that brings us to one of two things. The gate is a universal thing, and the means by access vary from universe to universe, a set of rules which is assigned to an individual. The other possibility is that you have a connection to a different Gate, which abides by different rules."
There was something about this topic that itched in the corner of his brain, a new part of him that he'd yet to get used to. It seemed to be… a part of the Gate, the knowledge given to him like a certificate of proof of passage. But he didn't think that he'd had enough time to settle in and sort through the newly acquired information, save the abilities that came to him instinctively, like his newfound ability to transmute without an array.
"I think I have more to say on the topic, but it's part of the body of knowledge I recently gained from passage through the Gate, so I think I need time," Roy told him, and Edward blinked and the lines of his face softened unexpectedly.
"I understand. I was a little fucked up in the days after I went through the Gate the first time, myself. Here." Edward took the empty bowl from his hands and trotted back to the dish return. He returned shortly with two small loaves of bread, one of which he handed to Roy. "Hey, and here we are, having a civil conversation."
Roy laughed. He couldn't help it—Edward was right. They were having a civil conversation, for once. About alchemy, but they'd gone at least two sentences without sniping at each other. Edward seemed to be startled by his sudden outburst of laughter, and then looked inexplicably pleased with himself.
"Don't give me the opportunity," Roy said, biting into his portion of bread. "It's strange, because I'm not your Roy and you're not my Edward, but I still want to piss you off and watch the fireworks."
"Same, I guess, though I haven't gotten around to making you lose your cool yet," Edward admitted, and then they were leaning against the brickwork, people-watching. "It's a work in progress."
"Where's Alphonse?"
"Around," Edward replied, and Roy noted that Edward had long since polished off his portion of the bread. He noticed that he was casting longing glances at his own portion and Roy gave in and handed the remainder to him, much to the delight of the other. "Checking around if anyone's looking for us after our break-in. Remnants of the Thule Society's still kicking, looking for us. Not as concerted anymore, but still."
Roy wasn't familiar with this Society, but he figured he'd ask later. For now, he was more curious about the world he was in. "So what's the state of this country? Looks like it's in the middle of a depression."
"Oh, I forgot. You like this kind of stuff, don't you? Politics, and stuff. Well, you wouldn't be wrong," Edward said, shrugging absently. "Germany, this world, recently came out of a war. It was a big one, we're talking international."
Roy tried and failed to contain his surprise. "To the victor goes the spoils? I'm guessing Germany wasn't on the winning side of the war."
"Right on," Edward said lazily, pushing himself up and walking again. Roy followed. They weren't going in the direction of the Elrics' apartment, but he figured Edward had a destination in mind. "Reparations and stuff like that. A sort of provisional government is currently in power after the decline of the monarchy in the aftermath of the world war. The mark isn't worth anything right now, and we get most of our meals from soup kitchens."
If there was one thing Roy hated more than anything else, it was imposing on someone else's kindness. He'd work his own niche out here and pay his bills. "I've always wondered what kind of job you'd take if not as an alchemist. Are you working as a researcher?"
Contrary to expectations, Edward laughed, a surprisingly light sound. "I used to work on rockets, trying to fly my way back home, I suppose." He seemed to retreat inward. "I still do some aerospace engineering work myself, but mostly I switched over to physics, help at the university in an unofficial capacity. Got my name on a few papers, myself."
"You're doing pretty well for yourself then, fitting in," Roy observed. "I should probably look for an apartment—"
"Don't," Edward said, almost violently. Roy had to contain his surprise at his tone. "You can stay with us, it's fine. We have a spare room, if Al and I bunk together again."
"Thank you for your hospitality, then," Roy offered, mostly as a peace offering. He filed Edward's protest in the back of his mind to analyze later, and he'd look into other accommodations on the side. "So what's this about political unrest?"
"We used to live in Munich, you know," Fullmetal said instead, picking at the hem of his coat. He crossed his arms again and looked at Roy. "It was the location of a failed coup attempt by Adolf Hitler, Nazi Party Leader, called the Munich Putsch. Not to mention the Thule society's attempt at crossing the Gate to Amestris. In any case, it seemed too dangerous to stay, so Gracia—"
Roy's knees nearly failed him, and he stumbled a little before catching himself. Edward only grinned at his reaction. "Gracia?"
"Exactly the reaction I was going for," the little blond terror chortled, and at that moment Roy wanted to wring his neck. "The very same. Though Hughes—"
Roy coughed, hard. "Are you trying to kill me, Fullmetal?"
There was undisguised pleasure reflected in those uniquely amber eyes of his. "I try! Anyway, Hughes has been trying to court her for a year so far. He's not having the best of luck, and I'm starting to think that our Hughes' marriage was a fluke."
"Back up a moment," Roy demanded. "I get why you're here, you crossed over, but what are Hughes and Gracia doing on this side?"
Fullmetal let his mouth fall open in shock before he seemed to catch on. "Oh, I guess I forgot to mention. There are parallel world counterparts of people we know in Amestris here. Hughes and Gracia are two of them."
"There are more?" Roy didn't think he could handle much more. This was way out of his division. "Spare me, please."
"Don't worry, I haven't met your counterpart yet," Edward laughed, and Roy tried to radiate disapproval. "I don't have a working theory of where to find our counterparts. A lot of us turned up in Germany, but most of the population is quite homogenous, I'm not sure your counterpart would fit in."
"If Amestris is an accurate model and parallel, you'd be right. I possess Xingese ancestry from my mother's side."
"You do?" Edward looked as surprised as he felt. He wasn't quite sure why he'd told him that. "I'd always wondered."
"Back onto the topic, what was that about Gracia?" Roy wasn't sure how they'd veered so far off subject, and he usually wasn't in the habit of volunteering personal information.
"Right, well, Gracia thought it was best to move to a different city, and I happened to agree. She suggested Berlin, and I happened to agree," Edward explained, and they were fast approaching a flower shop. Roy looked to Edward for answers and received an enigmatic smile in response. Roy narrowed his eyes. That was not an expression he was used to seeing on that face. He wasn't sure Fullmetal was even capable of being coy, but here was his proof. They were coming up to the shop window, and Roy peered into the open-air florist shop.
That damn brat. Roy really was going to end up wringing Edward's pretty little neck.
Before Roy could get in a word edgewise, Edward had already grasped his arm and physically dragged him into the shop. Roy was this close to pitching a fit. "Miss Gracia, good afternoon!"
Everything in this woman's posture screamed Gracia Hughes, from her hairstyle, her choice in fashion—a green sundress with a white knitted pullover—and that persistently kind look in her eyes. And Roy couldn't help but relax in her presence, even as he cognitively knew this wasn't Gracia, wife and widow of his best friend. She smiled brightly at the pair of them, setting down the fresh cuts of daffodils and irises she was arranging in bouquets.
"Good afternoon," she greeted, radiant as ever in lightly accented Amestrian, and the illusion crumbled partially. She looked Roy over curiously, and it stung a little not to be recognized by someone so familiar to him, even if his visits had dwindled down in the past year due to the nationwide conspiracy. And to see that gentle face again, unmarred by Envy's cruelty—it was unexpectedly refreshing. "A new friend, Edward?"
Edward bobbed his head affirmatively, sending his neat, golden ponytail flying from side to side. He discreetly shoved Roy at the woman, and only manners kept him from sending Ed the stink-eye. "Yes, this is Roy. Roy Mustang."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gracia," Roy said, inclining his head slightly in greeting and injecting just a bit of charm into his voice. He found that he didn't have to force a smile, because the one he wore was genuine.
She laughed and a faint dusting of pink spread across her cheeks. Roy grunted lightly when Edward realized what he'd done and thumped him lightly on the back. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Mustang."
The old song and dance. "Please, Miss Gracia. Call me Roy."
She smiled at him, just a little shyly. "Thank you, Roy."
"Do I get the pleasure, too?" Edward raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Roy was so stunned by the inquiry he'd accidentally let out a bark of incredulous laughter.
"Sure," Roy acquiesced, smiling indulgently. He let a little mischief bleed into his voice. "If I get to throw back your favorite phrase back at you, Edward."
"Not fair," the younger man huffed. Golden eyes sparked playfully in the afternoon light. "It's Ed or nothing, Roy."
"That's fair," Roy said, and that was long enough for their allotted banter for the day. Manners dictated that was terribly impolite to exclude their third participant. "These are some beautiful flowers, Gracia. Do you grow these all yourself?"
"Most of them, yes!" Her smile widened, and Roy knew that this was a topic she was warming up to. She was a woman who truly loved her profession, then. "It's summer, now, and it's the best time to be growing most varieties of flowers. So you'll see a lot more flowers in the shop this time of year." She seemed to remember something, and extended a finger to tap at her chin. "Oh, Edward, if you were looking for Noah, she's out doing deliveries right now."
"That's fine," Ed said, with a strangely shuttered look. It was gone as soon as it came, and Roy had to wonder who Noah was to cause such a reaction. "Just wanted to stop by and show off your shop to Roy, here."
"Yes, I'm very glad I came," Roy said, and marveled at the truth of the statement. He wondered briefly why he hadn't spent more time in florist shops while he was in Central. Right. Paperwork was the culprit. "The next time I come here, I'll come with the intention of supporting your lovely business."
"What's your recommendation for today? I'll take something back, Gracia," Ed said, leaning over and examining the flower arrangements on display. Gracia leant over and picked up her forgotten arrangement of daffodils, deftly selecting flowers and arranging them into a cheerful bundle of white and yellow. She bound them in white cloth ribbon, and handed it to Roy. He accepted it with some bemusement, though he did so gracefully.
"A present for a new friend." Gracia smiled. "My gift to you both. Please check back soon, and bring Alphonse, too. I'll have a lot more things to put on display, and maybe you can stay for dinner!"
As they departed the store bound for the apartment, Roy turned to Ed. "Thank you." Because he hadn't known how much he'd wanted to see another familiar face in this brave, new world of theirs. Though she wasn't the Gracia they knew, she, like Gracia Hughes, was kind at the core, and had a way of soothing others with just kind words and open sentiment.
Gold eyes rolled up to look at him with faint astonishment before converting into warmth. "You're welcome. And thank you for helping us yesterday." Ed reached out to touch the daffodils nestled in the crook of his arm. "I want you to know that I don't want to treat you like some kind of doppelganger of the General."
"I'm sure you won't," Roy said, and believed it. "And it's still Colonel bastard, if it's all the same to you. Good to know I eventually get promoted, though."
"Knew you'd like that," Edward said, rolling his eyes and fishing out his keys from his coat pockets.
If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck.
If only reality was as simple as that.
Mustang—Roy, now—had the looks, the mannerisms, and the wit to qualify for all criteria of the test of abductive reasoning, but Ed was starting to see the difference. Though he couldn't tell whether it was because he was beginning to differentiate the two because of the qualities the man had simply because he came from another dimension, or if it was because he was simply getting to know Roy—the man, not the commanding officer—better. If, hypothetically, he ever saw the Brigadier General again, would they get along just as well as he and the Colonel?
Ed shook off the thought and nearly tripped over the stack of his textbooks he was moving to Al's room. Of course not. Well, maybe, but it would never be identical. Compatible personalities contributed to a friendship, but shared experiences consisted the bulk of a relationship.
A relationship? What a confusing choice of words.
Ed picked up his pillow and stared at it uncomprehendingly for a second too long. It would theoretically be possible to transmute all the sheets clean. Relationship? But he didn't want to bother Roy, he was in the kitchen making dinner. A relationship. The Colonel knew how to cook. Did he need help with the stew? In the platonic sense, of course.
He threw down the pillow and sat down on the bed, frustrated. His left hand crept up to run its fingers through his ponytail.
He couldn't work with his thoughts flying in every direction at once. It was confusion, plain and simple, because not once had he ever looked at Roy Mustang and seen the potential for friendship. And just because they were getting along, after just one afternoon walk, was there supposed to be anything more.
Ed grit his teeth and resolved to stop torturing himself. No more thoughts. He was supposed to be getting the room clean of his shit for their new housemate.
Though, would he be staying with them permanently? That was what Al was getting at earlier this morning. He got the sense that no, Roy wasn't planning on staying for the long-term. There was always something lurking below the surface, in that brilliantly manipulative mind of his, scheming and thinking of ways to bend the world to his will. Of course he wouldn't stay.
So could Ed go?
What, back to their world? Or to Roy's dimension? Because that was certainly where Roy was planning on returning to. In fleeting fancies Ed had entertained the thought of finding a way home to his Amestris, to Winry and Pinako, General Mustang and his loyal team. People who knew him, cared about him. Where alchemy ran like electricity through his veins, flowing through his lungs like fuel, the potential to do big, almost legendary things at sparking at his fingertips. Where the skies seemed bluer, less tainted with the air of conspiracy.
He was just a normal person, now. But that wasn't so bad. He'd almost come to terms with it, though Al had always told him to stop lying to himself.
Maybe he did want to go home.
Ed let out a frustrated yell and threw the pillow at the door, where it sailed through the air and suddenly halted its course with a muffled smack, sliding down miserably to the floor.
Shit, he and Roy had something else in common. Misplaced out of time and space, in this place of cursed exile.
There was a padding of footsteps against the wood paneling of the floor, and the door opened just a crack, precisely revealing the subject of his frustrations. Roy looked down to the floor and picked up the pillow, patting the dust off it and ambling over to sit down on the bed next to him.
And then he crammed the pillow in his face.
Ed yelped into the pillow, and decided that if this was how he was going out, it would be fitting. Smothered to his doom by Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Master of Pillows and Feathery Death. He flailed helplessly for a few seconds before he could halt the attack. He shoved the pillow off his face only to be confronted with a smirking Roy.
"Stew's done," Roy said unnecessarily, leaning back on his hands.
And because Ed was currently about 20 different emotions personified, he said, "huh?"
"Where's that bottomless pit we all know and love," Roy said, and Ed wanted to throttle him with the pillow. He had the means, where was the will? But soon the teasing stopped and Roy affected a serious expression. "I heard a shout. Did you hurt yourself?"
"You're one to talk," Ed shot back, and at Roy's confused look, he sat up and gestured to his hands. Roy raised his hands, palms bandaged neatly with strips of cloth and medical tape. "Why didn't you tell us you were injured? We shouldn't have made you fight in that condition, and you were snapping like crazy yesterday."
"Oh," he said, succinctly. "'Appear strong when you are weak, and weak when you are strong,' right? We had larger concerns to worry about, and I'm all right now. And you still made me fight with a concussion." Roy folded his hands in his lap, quirking an eyebrow at Ed. "Did you bandage them?"
"Ah, no, Al did," Ed replied. "Al's surprisingly into medical stuff. I'm ninety-percent sure that he's going to be a doctor of some sort."
"Fitting," Roy hummed lowly and stood up again, jostling the bed. Ed rolled to the side to look at him. "He has the patient, caring nature required for the career."
"And you?" Ed couldn't help but ask. "Why'd you join the military?"
Roy bent down, close enough to whisper. Wait, was he really going to tell him? Ed tilted his head closer. "Another story for another time," Roy said instead, and his smile only widened at the look of outrage Ed shot him as he stood back up and made to retreat back out the door.
"Wait," Ed found himself saying. Roy stopped on his path back outside and turned around. "Are you," Ed swallowed. God, did this man test his resolve. "Are you planning on going back to your universe?"
Instead of the curt reply he was expecting—it must have been a touchy subject—Roy simply smiled, wan and only slightly bitter. "Yes."
Ed felt the knot in his chest, the one he'd been nursing for three years, unfurl. A sudden decompression of pent up pressure and built up stress. Ed looked at Roy and saw something of himself, a year younger. A piece of himself, before the Thule invasion, in the reflected hope in those dark eyes.
"I'll help you," Ed said, through unshed tears and a strained throat. "If you'll let me, I'll help you."
And then maybe I can help myself.
Roy walked over and laid a bandaged hand briefly over his own in a gesture of solidarity, and then left the room.
Alphonse walked quickly through the rush of the Berlin off-work crowd, trying hard not to break into a run. No one looked twice at a thirteen-year old, energetic and lively, pushing against the ebb and the flow of people.
But he wasn't just any thirteen-year old. He knew he was wanted. The Thule Society knew, of course they had known. The guards had seen their faces, plain as day, when they'd been caught before Mustang had incapacitated them, but it was enough. They'd identified them from the government reports on the break-in, and now they were onto them. Their only saving grace was that no one had seen Mustang's face clearly, obscured by light and flame, only knowing that he wore a military outfit and had powers beyond science and understanding.
And he was wanted, too.
He tried to breathe deeply as he wound his way through familiar back alleys, losing the police tail that had been following him since he'd left their contact. He ducked into the alcove of an apartment building and paused to catch his breath.
Brother had to know. Mustang had to know, and he had to get there without being seen. Focus on that, Alphonse.
With that thought, he slipped back out into the streets and sought refuge in the shadows until he arrived back at the apartment, climbing the stairs until he reached their apartment door.
He opened the door to be confronted with the domestic scene of his brother and Mustang chatting amicably about politics and current events. It was astonishingly normal dinner conversation, all things considered. He'd half-expected them to be at each other's throats, half-expected them to suffer each other's company in silence.
"There was the whole Ruhr Invasion too, just a year ago," Ed was saying, waving his hand animatedly. Strange, because Ed was never passionate about politics. "Government failed to pay reparations, France and Belgium decided it was high time to invade and take the resources as recompense."
"I'm liking this government less and less," Mustang said thoughtfully. "That's probably the point, though. The sheer number of parties heralds a politically fractured government, and the sheer number of cabinets gone in eighteen months, fifteen of them, and the dependence on foreign powers in paying off debt—it's clear someone's going to capitalize on this. And I'm almost certain it's the Hitler everyone's talking about. Obvious capitalization on rising nationalist sentiment."
"Never thought of it that way," Ed frowned thoughtfully, staring at Mustang as if looking at him in a new light. "You're such a politician."
"If it helps get you what you want," Mustang said, with a hint of good humor. He looked up from his stew, finally noticing Al in the doorway. He gave him a polite, if slightly warm smile. "Alphonse, welcome back. What did you find?"
That was the 'what's-your-report' tone, Al noted, and restrained the urge to salute. And he'd never been part of the military! But he'd been with his brother in plenty of Mustang's briefings, so there was secondhand experience to be spoken for. "It's not good news, sir. Our break-in was recorded by the police and our descriptions were there, just me and my brother, though. They didn't catch your face. I'm almost certain the Thule Society has gotten wind of it."
"What?" Ed exclaimed, dropping his spoon back into his bowl. "But do they know where we are? We sold the car on the way back here, there's no way they could have traced us here!"
"But we live in a big city, brother," Al said, sitting down at the table beside Mustang and across from his brother. "This will be the first place they look."
"Let's hope they're not smart enough to look in academic papers, shit." Ed ran a hand through his hair. "Fucking desire to leave a mark on the world, and it could be my downfall."
"Brother, it's probably okay, I think." Though Al wasn't sure, himself. "I don't know, do we have to move again?"
"Calm down, both of you." Both he and Ed sat up straight at the demand. Mustang had clearly switched into commanding officer mode, and Al was really glad they had a functioning adult here with them. "They've searched for this long and haven't found you yet. We have a little time. Alphonse, you said they saw me?"
"Yes, but they never caught a good visual of your face. You were in and out of the room too quickly, and the fire obscured a lot. They know you were wearing your uniform, and they know about your ability to use alchemy."
Mustang froze, and a dark look crossed his face. Ed and Al exchanged looks, silently guessing at the man's thoughts. After a moment, he grimaced faintly and schooled his expression into something resembling calm.
"Fullmetal, do you happen to recall the phrase, 'human weapon'?"
"Oh, shit," Ed cursed, with feeling.
"What, what's the…" It took a moment to register. They'd taken alchemy for granted, thought that everyone could do it, it wasn't special. But they were on the other side of the Gate, now. Now, it was special. "Oh, shit."
"It's good that they don't know my description," Mustang said. How was he so calm? "So I should be relatively safe, for now. But they'll be looking for you both, and if I stay with you, they'll find me. The government and this Thule Society."
"No, no, no," Ed was saying, frantically. His hands grasped the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension. "Out of the question, we're not splitting up. Absolutely not."
"It may be possible to change cities again, but the Society is presumably well-established in Germany. And it's likely they would still send members after you across Europe, though in a lesser capacity," Mustang pointed out, and Al knew his reasoning was faultless. It had been a long time coming, anyway. "Besides, with the political climate being what it is, I believe that getting out of the country would be the best option in the long run. Perhaps to an Allied power, then to America. I doubt word of my alchemy will spread across countries, with how much it resembles mysticism on this side compared to science, though it is always a possibility." He paused. "In the meantime, I would reduce your excursions outside the apartment, at least while they're still on high alert."
And if they come, I will leave to protect you both, went unsaid.
"I knew this was going to happen, I just didn't want to believe it," Ed said, scrubbing a tired hand across his face. "Fucking Society, fucking power-hungry governments. I read the newspapers, but I was in denial. Me and my dumb fuckup ass."
"I know, brother," Al said, because they thought they'd finally found a home here in their apartment in Berlin. He knew his brother was already thinking about all the people they'd have to leave behind.
"It's okay," Ed lifted his head, and there was that same resolve that had seen them through death and an invasion between parallel worlds. "Because we'll be together, won't we?"
He was looking at them both. Al looked at Mustang to find him looking back at Ed, expression inscrutable.
Trouble. Trouble seemed to dog his footsteps wherever he went. And he'd brought more to the Elrics.
Roy didn't have a lot of regrets in life. He just had a few, and those few exceptions he regretted deeply. Ishval was an obvious contender. Learning flame alchemy was close, but he'd since come to terms with it being a tool of protection rather than of destruction. What he did regret was dragging Riza into his idealistic wreck of a dream. Another was bringing Ed into the military at such a young age, because if he thought about it, that was the catalyst of change determining the course for the rest of Ed's life, and in this life, he'd ended up on the other side of the Gate. He didn't know what end was in store for the Edward of his own dimension, but if it wasn't good, Roy wouldn't have put it past himself to have so thoroughly ruined someone else's life.
He accepted a wet dish handed to him by Ed, who had insisted on helping with the cleanup. He silently polished the dishes and replaced them in the cabinet. The silence stretched between them, not quite tense but not quite comfortable.
Roy could understand. It wasn't easy uprooting yourself from a place you were comfortable with. It was especially hard for Ed and Al, who were consummate wanderers ever since their mother's death.
As they finished up, a series of knocks on the door sounded in a peculiar pattern. A code knock, then. Roy looked up and Ed was already at the door, unlocking the deadbolt to reveal a young girl in her teens or early twenties, with a small basket in her arms.
"Hi, Noah," Ed said, smiling politely. "What's up?"
"Ed, good evening," the girl, Noah, returned. Her eyes seemed unable to make contact with Ed's. "I baked a pie today with Miss Gracia, and I wanted to share a few slices with you and Al."
"That would be great, thank you," Ed said, warming up slightly, and Roy knew from personal experience that Gracia's baked goods were miraculously capable of defrosting any personality, no matter the circumstances. The girl knew what she was doing, whatever she had done. "Do you want to come in?"
"Ah," she said, momentarily indecisive. Roy tried not to look like he was eavesdropping too obviously as he left the kitchen to sit on the couch, where he could still hear their conversation. He picked up a sheet of two of the notes on the bomb to complete his masquerade. After a long moment, he heard her say, "it's okay, it's getting a little late. I should be getting back home."
"Suit yourself," Ed said, and Roy winced. Classic Edward, so insensitive to the feelings of other sentient beings. Couldn't he tell she wanted to talk? Maybe he did, and if so, just what in the world was their history? "See you around, then."
And then the door shut. Roy stood up, dropping the papers back onto the table.
"Roy?" Ed called out when Roy passed him in the hallway, making a beeline for the coat rack. "Going out?"
"It just occurred to me that I don't have much in the way of clothing or toiletries." Roy pulled his coat off the rack and slid his arms through the sleeves. "So I figured I'd go out and buy the supplies now I've got the time." It wasn't a lie, he just had other things on his agenda as well.
Ed's expression lightened in realization. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot about that." He made to step towards Roy, automail arm extended towards the rack, making to pick up his coat. "I'll go with you, I know the stores."
Roy refrained from narrowing his eyes. He knew what Ed was doing, even if Ed himself wasn't aware of it. Ed's protective instinct, commonly directed towards his brother, now found a target in himself, especially in the advent of their dinner conversation. He was on high-alert, but he'd forgotten that Roy was somewhat crafty himself, and had the advantage of alchemy.
"It's fine, I won't be out long." And at Ed's dubious look, Roy snapped his fingers twice, hoping to get the message across. Had to get going, find the girl. "I'll be fine, really."
"If you say so," Ed told him, turning around. Roy thought he was in the clear before the expected "wait, what are you going to pay with?" came.
Roy turned around slowly, smile sly. "Gold, of course." And then he closed the door on Ed's incredulous laughter.
He descended the flights of stairs two steps at a time, half-dashing out onto the street in search of Noah. If the girl had baked with Gracia, it was likely that she was heading back to the shop. It was good that Roy paid attention to directions, and turned to retrace his steps around the city. After a minute of walking, he saw her blue skirt passing around the corner, and he picked up his pace to catch up to her.
Finally, he managed to match her stride, pulling up to her right side. "Excuse me, miss. Are you Noah?" She looked at him, uneasy at first, but then her expression radiated wonder.
"I know you," she said, and stopped walking. Roy skidded to a halt a few paces ahead of her and backtracked.
"Yes, I was at the Elrics' apartment," he explained, but she shook her head, slowly.
"No, I saw you in his memories." And what kind of an explanation was that? She gave him a somewhat wretched smile. "I'm clairvoyant. You're his commander, aren't you?"
Roy had seen many strange things in his time. Given long and deep study in the alchemical sciences, it was practically a given. Chimera, golems, soul bonding, he'd thought nothing would surprise him anymore. But a clairvoyant? And the genuine article? He didn't doubt her veracity, because Edward never associated at least cordially with people who weren't good at heart, and what did that say about himself?
"Yes, but not exactly," he said. Because he hadn't been this Edward's commander. "But I digress. I wanted to chat with you about Edward, yourself, and to learn a little bit about this world." He hoped that he'd laid the charm thick enough to make it easy to agree to his request.
"Yes, that would be nice," Noah agreed, and looked a little less morose than when he'd first seen her. He got the sense that she didn't associate with many people on a daily basis, and was just happy for the conversation.
"Could you tell me a little bit about your history with Edward?" Roy asked, and they started walking again, shoulder to shoulder in the waning light. "How you met, perhaps?"
"He saved me from the Thule Society," she replied, "with a rocket." And that really was classic Edward. "But I did him a great disservice, I know that is what you wanted to ask me about. I betrayed his kindness by reading his mind as he slept, taking his alchemical knowledge to the Thule Society in hopes that they'd send me to his world."
Roy blinked. Noah knew how to cut to the chase, he could give her that. "And now you want to repair your relationship with him?"
"Yes, at the very least," she looked down at her feet, her neat black slippers clacking softly against the cobblestone. "He is kind enough not to shun me again, but we still haven't cleared the air between us, so to speak. I can't find the courage, and he avoids the topic."
Roy sighed. "Sounds like Edward." But he wanted to help this girl, for whatever reason it may have been. Out of the goodness of his heart, or maybe out of a desire to see Ed's life in fewer pieces than it was. Already his mind was running through schemes and plans to catalyze this reconciliation.
"Maybe I can help you with that," Roy said, and gave her his most winning smile. "Both of you. Perhaps meet me tomorrow, in front of the Elrics' apartment at noon if you're free?"
Hope sparked dimly in her brown eyes. "I can, yes." She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, then looked back up at him. "What is your name?"
"I'm Roy Mustang," he said, and took her hand, shaking it gently in delayed introduction. Something fleeting passed through her expression, and she refocused her attentions on him, brown eyes suddenly sharp.
"You both have history, though they seem to differ," she said, out of the blue. "He has things he's always wanted to say to you, feelings he's wanted to express, but couldn't. And you do too, although the versions of you, they confuse me." And just as quickly as it had come, her courage had fled her. "I'm sorry. It's just… touch. It's been nice to meet you too, Mr. Mustang." And with a whirl of skirts, she disappeared into the crowd.
Roy knew, belatedly, what he'd done. Yet another thing to analyze later, when he had the time.
Right now, he had a state alchemist rule to break.
Al found Ed in the living room after his long shower, lounging on the sofa and reading through the notes on the bomb. Though it didn't seem like he was reading through them more than going through the motions.
"Hey, brother," Al greeted, approaching the other carefully. Sometimes Ed could have a hair-trigger temper, a trait of which he was infamous for. He knew Ed better than most, but even he couldn't tell whether Ed was waiting for the opportunity to rant or simply wanted to be left alone. No one could say that Ed couldn't be ambiguous when he wanted to be.
"Hey, Al." Ed looked up at him over the papers.
"Find anything interesting?" Al picked up the watering can beside his potted plants by the windowsill. He examined the soil moisture of his three ferns before applying the requisite amount of water.
"Yeah, did you know it's an implosion type fission weapon, it's got like 25 charges and did you know Roy's transmuting gold right now?"
Talk about whiplash conversation topics. Al set down the watering can and made his way over to the armchair adjacent to the sofa Ed was currently occupying. "He's what?"
"I'm glad you asked." Ed lowered his papers to rest on his stomach, and his grin was broad. "Him, dog of the military, enforcer of rules. Transmuting gold and tilting the economy just slightly off its axis."
"That's," Al started. "Is that such a good idea, right now?" The economy wasn't that stable, and he would draw attention if he transmuted too much.
Ed waved a hand at him. "We're talking about Roy, here. Remember? He may be an asshole, but he's a paranoid asshole."
"So it's 'Roy' now," Al observed, and had the distinct pleasure of witnessing his brother's complexion turn a splotchy red. It clashed horribly with his particular shade of blond hair, and that just sent Al further over the edge. "Al! Stop laughing right now!"
"I don't even want to know how that happened," he said, watching his brother's fish impression through his fingers. "Can I call him Roy, too?"
"Probably," Ed said, reaching back and pulling his hair out of his tie. He reclined back down on the sofa when he no longer had to suffer the obstruction of the ponytail. "He's not the General, after all."
Time to bring the topic back up. Al could do this. He stood up to his brother all the time, it was time for that patented Elric courage. "He's not. So you talked to him about wanting to go back?"
"Yeah." And that was surprisingly painless. "He plans on trying to get back. We'll be putting our heads together starting next week. While he's getting himself sorted this week."
"You're helping him?" Because Al was so used to Ed's protests on wanting to go back, he'd admittedly run himself into a mental ditch. He'd just thrown himself for a loop, foiled by his own confidence.
Ed's look bled pure skepticism. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Oh, I don't know," Al said, throwing himself back into the armchair. His brother was so frustratingly complex, sometimes. Not even five years of restored memories seemed to help Al understand him sometimes. "Maybe for the fact that you've argued with me on this same point for at every turn in the last year."
"If you were hoping for a victory," Ed drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes at him. "Here it is."
Oh, brother. "I'm glad, Ed."
"I guess I am, too," Ed replied quietly, and shuffled a sheet of paper from the stack of notes on his stomach to the top.
On it was the transmutation circle used to travel between worlds.