Thanks for the review!
Warnings: past mentions of EdWinry
All mistakes are mine.
Chapter2
"Oh, Ed, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She'd gushed, but then again, it was automail she was drooling over.
The fitting had gone well for Ed's newest prosthetic leg.
Edward was glad he was finally growing a little more. Winry was happy she could still work with his automail. Even though he only had the leg left; it gave her something to do besides be a full-time mother.
"Yeah," Ed agreed, springing from his seat and testing the new limb. "You did great, just like always." The leg felt great. It always did when Winry got her hands on it. She was a genius when it came to machinery.
"Ahg!"
His son, the eldest of his two children, now about a year and a half, had sprung on him. The child shrieked with glee when his father picked him up, swinging him high into the air.
Winry looked on and laughed at their antics. She rose from her stool, seven months pregnant and more than a little wobbly.
She groaned and rubbed her swollen belly. "I thought it was supposed to get easier after the first one."
Ed grinned at her and slung his son over one shoulder. The child giggled and kicked playfully at his father's chest. Edward walked over to help his wife to the couch. Winry slapped hand away.
"I can do it myself." The blond woman glared. "I'm not an invalid."
"I didn't say you were."
"You don't have to. You're treating me like one right now."
"Winry." Ed sighed. Even after two years of marriage he still didn't know how to deal with this woman's mood swings. And they just seemed to get worse during pregnancy, no matter what he did or didn't do. But still he tried. He couldn't not try; this was Winry. "You just finished building me a new leg. I don't think you're any less capable than you were seven months ago before you were pregnant."
The blond woman huffed and tried to sit up. Edward reflexively reached out.
Winry shot him a look. The look that said he'd screwed up.
"Whatever you say Ed."
The whistles sharp report had Ed's sleep bleared eyes blinking open.
"Central Station." The aide droned as he trailed down the aisle. "Now arriving at Central Station."
Ed didn't think about what he was doing until he was standing on the stairs, belongings in hand, staring down at the platform. Passengers stepped groggily around him, one bumping apologetically into his arm. He probably mumbled some sort of apology, but the man was already gone.
Edward didn't think anything of it. He was still staring at the gleaming concrete. For some reason, he didn't want to get off the train
Stepping onto the Central platform for the first time in five years was surreal.
Edward travelled much in the years after 'Father's' death, mostly to the West: Creta and up a little into Drachma. He passed through Central station a few times on the way back home to Resembol, but he never got off.
In the back of his mind there was always a half-hearted idea. He'd always thought about coming back to visit. But something always came up: Alchahestry research, his brother's wedding, a hole in the roof, having a baby, a new nephew. So the plan was always being shoved onto the back burner until it was forgotten entirely.
Lieutenant Hawkeye, Havoc, Fuery, Breda, Fallmen, Sheska, Armstrong, Mrs. Hues, Elisia, Mustang; they all seemed so far away, from another lifetime altogether.
A few people were wandering around the platform, looking just as lost as Ed felt; the effect of overnight transit.
Golden eyes strayed over the empty greeting area and he felt a pang in his chest.
"Maybe I should've called ahead." His smile held no humor, because calling ahead would mean he's planned this ahead of time.
Ed planned nothing like this.
Edward hefted the small suitcase at his side and began a slow trudge down Main Street in search of a hotel.
Two hours to Central." The attendant called, pacing the aisle. "Two hours to Central Station."
Roy yawned and stretched. He was pasted due for a walk around; his legs and posterior were begging for mercy.
Riza started from sleep when he got up and began to follow, but Roy waved her back down.
One of them might as well get some sleep.
After watching his Aide settle back under her blanket, Roy stared to wander. His feet sought no particular direction.
He found himself in the club car, watching as waiters dressed in white slid hot platters of aromatic food in front of hungry patrons.
Roy's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. He hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday if he remembered correctly. He hadn't thought about food really since boarding the train to Central.
"Can I seat you General?" A waiter offered.
Roy allowed himself to be guided into a corner booth and was given a menu before his host was whisked away to tend to other customers.
The breakfast menu was immense, as was to be expected in a first class dining car. He ordered the sampler and a cup of coffee and spent the next half hour picking the pancakes to pieces.
"Are you feeling alright?"
Roy glanced up at the young, concerned face beside his table. The Lieutenant looked like he'd just finished his Academy graduation: completely green.
"Thank you for your concern Lieutenant…"
"Moret, Sir, Glen Morre."
They exchanged salutes and a firm handshake.
"I'm fine Lieutenant Morre."
"Oh." The young man stood awkwardly for long moments before he seemed to realize the conversation was over. "Well, I'll leave you to it sir. Have a…a good one."
He saluted again and shuffled away.
Roy was shaking his head after the boy when the attendant walked up.
"General Roy Mustang?"
"That's right." He pushed his plate away. He wasn't going to finish it anyway. "Can I help you?"
"There's a telegram for you."
The folded paper transferred hands and the man left Mustang alone to read.
General Roy Mustang STOP. Holding the fort until you arrive STOP. Grumman's wishes didn't make everyone happy STOP. Will have a car waiting for you when at the station STOP. Try not to be late STOP.
-General Olivier Armstrong STOP.
Roy couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his mouth. Olivier was likely in Central for Grumman's funeral, just like every military official above the rank of Captain.
He read the stinted prose a second time and the smirk became a smile. Even when she offered assistance with one hand, the other stole any respectful connotation from the note. She hadn't even given him the courtesy of using his new title: Fuehrer.
Riza joined him then. It seemed she could only leave him alone for so long.
"We have a little under an hour before we arrive."
Roy nodded and handed her the telegram before she could ask. The Major scanned the six sentences over several times before sliding it back to him.
"Well it's good to know you have some allies."
"It's a whole new game I'm playing," Roy agreed. "Best to know what pieces I have to move."
Riza didn't say anything for a moment.
"Hopefully you won't need them."
Roy wanted more than anything to believe he wouldn't. But one sentence in Olivier's message had him thinking. Grumman's wishes didn't make everyone happy…
Ed was well and truly lost.
He didn't remember the streets, it seemed, as well as he assumed.
They twisted and turned in new directions. Buildings sprouted where he thought only alleys and roads paved before.
Perhaps his memory was simply playing tricks on him. Five years was a long time after all.
The sky was tinged pink in pre-dawn and his feet continued to draw him down dead ends and dark back-allies Ed had never seen before.
He tried looking for a landmark; but the buildings crowded high above him blocking the skyline. Ed was most definitely lost.
It was another hour before Ed tried backtracking. This proved useless as looking for familiar landmarks. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen someone to ask for directions. The buildings all looked deserted.
Edward closed his eyes and tried to think through his steps. He had started from the station and took what he'd thought was a short cut by cutting through a side street to the West. From there he'd been funneled Southwest instead of straight West to the hotel. He would have to double back East to get back to Main Street.
He picked up his suitcase and started back. Ed felt a little ridiculous it had taken him so long to figure out the new back alley setup in Central. He blamed it on lack of sleep.
But at least he wouldn't be wandering around Central's slums for the rest of his life.
Ed thought he heard a groaning creak. The sound was so soft though, and the silence after it so absolute he wondered if he had imagined it.
He realized he was walking faster and had to laugh. He was acting like a child. Or maybe he'd just gotten antsy in his old age.
It wasn't so long ago he'd been chasing Homunculi down these streets without a second thought. He thought about Ling and Lan Fan. Capturing Glutony had been quite the escapade. They had learned so much about the Homunculi in the weeks to come, about what Gluttony was on the inside. Ed hadn't known that kidnapping the obese pseudo-human was opening a giant can of worms. But he wasn't afraid that he could think of, only when Winry pointed that pistol at Scar.
"Winry..." Ed's whisper was hollow.
A pebble rattled behind him.
Ed glanced back. Nothing: predictably. But then what had disturbed the stone?
He looked back to the path before him. Had the street always been so narrow? Was he imagining the way the buildings were leaning forward: hungry? They gleamed in half-shadow as black clouds amassed overhead.
A hiss, a breath of expelled air, like something was slicing through the atmosphere. It sounded so familiar. It sounded like…
Ed was running. He wasn't laughing at himself.
Something clattered behind him, but he didn't look. All his adrenaline laced limbs could do was pound the pavement towards safety.
It was too far. He knew. Too far to the station, but he couldn't stop.
His heartbeat thudded in his ears, pulsing, drumming a counterpoint to the rapid clip of his boots hitting pavement.
He could feel it behind him, but he couldn't look back. He didn't trust himself to keep going if he saw it.
It was too far. He wasn't going to make it.
Ed thought he felt hot breath sting the back of his neck and then he was sprinting around a corner. The sights and sounds of traffic washed over him. Had he always been this close to Main Street?
Ed spun.
The alley's mouth yawned, dark and foreboding…and empty.
Slowly the adrenaline drained from his brain and Ed began to shake. His laughter was downed in the bustle of city life.
Edward braced himself against a building and tried to breathe normally while his lungs seized.
"You're such an idiot." He said between gasps. "Get your head out of the past. They've been gone for seven years. You killed them all. You've gotten them all."
At last Ed's body stopped shaking enough for him to walk. Once again he set out in search of a hotel.
He asked for directions this time.
Roy stepped off the train and stretched. His muscles promptly flipped him the bird and began cramping. Two days straight on a train (excepting the hour break he was forced to endure while switching trains) was not the way to keep ones' body loose and relaxed.
But he was here at last. And unfortunately for his grousing limbs, Roy wasn't going to have much time to relax in the near future.
Early morning was cool in Central. Clouds overhead threatened rain while a wind from the North made leaving home minus a covering impractical.
It was good weather for a funeral; Roy mused silently.
Someone bumped Roy from behind. He heard a murmured apology already moving away. Out of habit he glanced at the transgressor and glimpsed only the back of a threadbare coat before the man was lost in the milling crowd.
"General Mustang."
A uniformed officer caught his attention. Roy steered Riza and himself over to the blue-black vehicle idling nearby.
"Captain." They exchanged salutes.
"Sir." The man barked out. "I have orders to see you and a Major Hawkeye to Central Command right away."
"Thank you, Captain." Roy slid into the back seat, Riza coming in close behind.
"No baggage."
"Understood Sir."
The car slipped easily into the directional flow of traffic.
Roy was staring out the window, a new passion, when he thought he saw the glimmer of golden hair. Fullmetal? His mind questioned. In Central?
His eyes focused to track the bright yellow, but their car was already far beyond it.
Whatever it was, Roy mused silently; it probably wasn't Elric. The man hadn't been to Central in years.
He shook off nostalgia. He had more pressing concerns than a prodigal State Alchemist.
Former State Alchemist, he corrected himself. After he brought his brother back from the portal of 'Truth'…
Roy stopped and frowned; because somehow he was still thinking about the bothersome blond boy.
Man…he would be a man now; probably around 24 or 25…
Roy sighed and shook his head.
Bothersome blond was right.
Riza was giving him a concerned look, but that expression had been on her face since East station, so he was used to it.
Roy just kept staring out the window while their car sped through the traffic towards Central Command.
A/N: Please, let me know what you think. I thrive off feedback.
Until next time...