Thanks for all the reviews!

Warnings: Mentions of EdWinry,

All mistakes are my own.

I am updating a few details and getting back on this story horse. Thanks for waiting.

XX

Chapter 4

The glass was cool and smooth beneath his fingers, sleek and perfect. Carefully, he traced the rim's nearly translucent curve. The cup was a true work of art, spun glass a million shades of blue and green swirled together.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Edward glanced up at the vender, a slender, middle-aged man with mossy-brown hair. He shook his head.

"Thanks, just looking."

He pulled his hand back as his gaze flickered over the rest of the man's stock. But he was pulled back to the cup. The design was simple, delicate, but when his fingers touched over its frame again, he felt strength in it.

"Yes, that's one of my favorites too." The man stepped over to Ed so he could inspect the piece. "It's a real work of art."

"That's exactly what I was thinking." Ed admitted with a weak smile. "It's beautiful." It wasn't often he used adjectives like 'pretty' or 'beautiful', but in this case the adjective fit.

"And it's a real bargain too." The man continued. "A mere 4,000 cenz."

Ed almost choked at the price. He shook his head. "Sorry, I wish I could, but there's really no safe place where I can keep it."

"Ah," The man nodded sagely. "A man well travelled?"

"You could say that." Ed agreed, trying to figure out how to untangle himself from the over-zealous salesman.

Just as Ed was about to mention something about lunch and food the man began staring at Edward. His gaze travelled first to the ripe golden hair Ed had confined to a tail, their gazes locked for a long second and then the man's eyes went wide.

"Pardon me…" He said. "…but are you by any chance, the Fullmetal Alchemist: Edward Elric?"

Ed blinked in utter astonishment. Reflexively, he took a step back, his hands up, as if warding off an attacker. "No, I don't go by that anymore. I haven't been a State Alchemist in years."

"But you are Edward Elric?" The man persisted, an adoring smile spreading across his bland features. "You're the Alchemist who helped save Amestris from the Homunculi?"

"Not so loud." Edward shushed, but it was little use. A small crowd was already gathering, looking intently at him and whispering. It wasn't as though he was trying to hide, but after five years out of the public eye, he wasn't used to this sort of attention anymore. Once he'd show-boated his way from one corner of this city to the other. Now, he wanted nothing more than to sneak off to a corner until everyone went away.

"It's such a…an honor. Edward Elric, at my shop." The vender looked as though he were about to pass out.

"I've got to go." Ed tried to turn, but the mass of people had doubled and was pressing in.

'Edward Elric…'

'Didn't he have an older brother?'

"Isn't he handsome? And so tall.'

'I heard that he went to the country to get married.'

'Well he has the ring on his finger. Look there it is.'

'So he is married.'

'I wonder who she is.'

"Let me out!" Ed started elbowing his way through, but a hand grabbed his coat. It was the mossy-haired vender.

"Please." He offered the glass. "Take it. It's the least I can offer for the salvation of Amestris."

"I…" Ed started to protest, but the crowd was threatening to cut off his escape route entirely. "Thanks." He grabbed the glass and bulled his way through a hundred curious pedestrians.

It was three blocks before Ed felt safe enough to slow his pace down to a walk.

"I hate crowds." He muttered and glanced down at the cup in his hand. It was pretty, maybe even worth 4,000 cenz. But the vender had just handed it to him and with such a look of worshipful gratitude.

"For saving Amestris? Please." Ed wasn't sure whether he was mad or grateful. The man didn't know him, but still remembered him, five years after the war with Father and the Homunculi. Although, Ed thought it was a little odd that a street vender had picked him almost literally out of a crowd.

It was the eyes. No one else in Amestris had his eyes, well…besides Al.

…And his son.

"Edward is that you?"

Gracia Hughes' smile was as open and motherly as he remembered. Ed turned to say 'hello' and caught an armful of giggling little girl.

Whilst he spluttered and spat ticklish brown pigtail from his mouth, he couldn't help chuckling.

"Edward." She eased Elicia's arms from around his neck, still smiling. "Elicia, you're going to smother him."

"No I'm not." The girl pouted as soon as her feet hit the ground. She looked up at Edward and stuck her lip out as far as it could go, which was an impressive amount if Ed did say so himself.

"I wasn't smothering you, was I?"

Edward felt his lips twisting upwards while he tucked the, mercifully unbroken glass into his coat pocket.

"Not really." He consoled the petulant child…Lord, she had to be ten now. "But you're mom's right. Leaping on other people is a good way to get someone hurt."

Elicia frowned, but didn't argue and Gracia's tickling voice washed over them both.

"Oh, Ed, it's so good to see you again. We haven't heard from you since…" She trailed off, but Ed knew what she was going to say.

"Yeah," He agreed. "…since the war. It's been a while."

They stood in amicable silence for long moments, neither trusting themselves to speak. Every word that came to Ed's mind in that moment seemed insufficient. What they had gone through, even if she hadn't played a role in Father's ultimate defeat, transcended speech itself.

"Mommy I'm hungry."

It was Ed's turn to laugh. He reached down gently to rub Elicia's pigtails.

"I'm sorry. I'm keeping you guys from lunch."

Gracia shook her head. "Not at all. In fact, why don't you join us? It's been too long since you've been over to eat my quiche."

"I couldn't." Ed protested. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be." Gracia soothed.

"Please." Elicia beamed up at him. "Please come over."

"Well how can I say no to that?" Ed returned the gesture and offered the two ladies his arms. "Alright, Mrs. Hughes, Elicia, lead the way."

XX

The crowd dispersed once the Fullmetal Alchemist disappeared, all whispering and gossiping while they went on their way. He was alone for the moment. That was good.

The slender man with mossy-brown hair leaned over to peer under his borrowed cart. Dead eyes stared back up at him.

It was the work of a moment to reposition the dead form on the street, blank eyes gazing into the clouds, hand clutching at his chest in a thin parody of a heart attack. And then the man with mossy hair was gone, leaving nothing but a wane chuckle and a corpse in his wake.

XX

The office was surprisingly empty. Roy glanced around at the room which had been Grumman's work space not 48 hours before and felt a little lonely.

It was smaller than he imagined, more Spartan, open and elegant.

The desk was, of course, the prominent feature, placed before the great green banner of Amestris. The polished wood underfoot gleamed under soft electric lights. Little illumination came through the large windows to the right and left of the desk. It was still cloudy outside.

He spotted the small table perched in one corner and smirked. Atop the smooth oak lay the thrice accursed chess set Grumman tormented him with whilst Roy was under his command.

Roy stepped over to inspect it, a fond smile curling his lips as he reached out for the white king. "Sentimental old fool."

The doors burst open and General Olivier Armstrong strode balefully into the room.

The General had remained much the same in the five years since Roy saw her. Long blond hair, blue eyes. The General was sporting a few scars on face and hands, souvenirs from the battle with undead legions and the Homunculus Sloth. They suited though, weaving a sinister tale of hard-won victory across her pale flesh.

"General." Roy put his hand out, choosing not to address her uninvited entrance. It was his first day. Besides, handing out reprimands was Hawkeye's job. Olivier grasped the proffered hand firmly and promptly released it. Her cold manners were telling; Roy mused. They had never been friends; rebellion brought them together as convenient allies. It was all they had in common besides mutual dislike. It seemed even his elevation to ruler of Amestris wouldn't change that. "What can I do for you?"

"I came to offer my congratulations." Olivier said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And my condolences."

"How thoughtful." Roy leaned back against his desk. "I assume you have my gift picked out already."

Olivier snorted. "You can consider what I'm about to tell you your present as it's going to save your reputation and quite a bit of headache."

"Oh really?" Roy's smile wasn't entirely faked. He leaned back against his desk.

Olivier smirked. "Grumman was an ambitious old man, brilliant, but he might have bitten off more than either of you can chew." She paused.

Roy arched an eyebrow. "Alright General." He said. "You have my attention. Please."

Olivier turned her chin up importantly. "During his last trip to Briggs, Grumman confided in me. I suppose he thought he could trust me. Fortunately for you, he was right." Olivier had the grace to look smug before she went on. "He was planning a Peace Summit here in Amestris. He spent last few months of his life running from one Command Center to the next, trying to convince the other countries to attend."

"A peace summit." Roy repeated. "Do you know if any of them decided to come?"

"The last I heard, Drachma was." Olivier's smile had turned nasty. "Since my Briggs men utterly destroyed them the last time we met on the field of battle, I suspect they've begun to think of their own mortality. I haven't heard anything about the other nations."

"When was this peace summit supposed to be held?"

"Soon." The General said. "That's all I know. Grumman wasn't forthcoming and I didn't care to ask."

Roy frowned, but nodded. "Thanks General. You've been very helpful."

Olivier snorted disdainfully. "Don't think I did it for you. I fought and killed Homunculi and immortal legions to keep this country strong. I'll be damned if I let it fall to politics now."

She turned, her long hair whipping around like a banner. And as she shut the door behind her she tossed casually over one shoulder. "So just make sure it doesn't fall, Fuehrer Roy Mustang."

Roy's chuckle was drowned by the door's loud 'thud'.

"As best I can, General."

The phone beside him chimed. Roy frowned and picked up the receiver. "Yes, what is it?"

"Sir." The young woman on the other end said. "There was a call from Northern Command, they tried to send word, but their phone lines were buried in snow and they just got them cleared. We got the call a few minutes ago."

"What call?"

"They said the Ambassador from Drachma was arriving at Central Station at 1500 hours."

Roy glanced at the clock and slammed down the phone. He had ten minutes to get to Central Station, assuming the train was just on time. He hoped it wasn't early.

Roy rushed out the door.

"Major Hawkeye."

"Sir." She was beside him, matching his quick steps. She was supposed to be transferring her belongings to her new post, but Roy was grateful she'd stuck around.

"I need a car to Central Station now. I'll explain on the way."

"Yes Sir."

XX

"That was delicious, Mrs. Hughes." Ed sat back and rubbed his belly. He hadn't eaten so well since the last time he and Al stayed at the Hughes' home.

"Thank you Edward." The woman smiled at the compliment and began clearing away lunch dishes. Ed stood to help. Her smile widened while she watched him stacking plates and silverware.

"What a gentleman, Winry's doing a good job training you."

Edward jerked in surprise. The plate slipped through his nerveless fingers.

He cleaned the last crumbs from his plate and sighed lustily. Beside him, Al was finishing off his own slice of pie and making sounds of appreciation.

"Quiche and apple pie, Winry you have outdone yourself."

His wife of three months blushed and disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something Ed didn't understand about flattery getting him everything.

"So, Al." Ed nudged his brother's shoulder. "What do you think? Winry's cooking has gotten a ton better since you were over last."

"Don't be rude." Al nudged back, remembering the charred pot roast and mushy vegetables. "She hasn't had a lot of experience making meals for a lot of people all the time. Granny usually did all the cooking when we were over, if you remember."

"I wasn't being rude." Ed laughed. "And it's true. You almost didn't come over because she was cooking. Admit it."

"But she's improved." was Al's incredible retort.

"Yeah." The eldest Elric agreed. "I'm just glad she figured things out before we died from food poisoning."

"Edward Elric." Winry shouted from the kitchen. "That's a hurtful thing to say. See if I ever make you any apple pies again."

Edward grimaced. He hadn't thought she could hear them from the other room. He made a mental note and shouted an apology.

Winry yelled back. "What am I going to do with you, Ed?"

Edward smiled and nudged his brothers' arm.

He was forgiven.

"Edward?"

He was staring at the plate on the floor. It was shattered. In a million tiny pieces and he couldn't fix it. He couldn't mend it anymore. The plate or his marriage.

Ed glanced up at Gracia's concerned face. She had said something funny; it was supposed to be funny. But he hadn't laughed. He'd…

Ed let out a weak chuckle, but it was too late and the sound echoed mockingly back to him. Gracia's frown deepened. She reached out and touched his shoulder. Ed couldn't meet her eyes.

"Sorry." He mumbled, kneeling down and grabbing the larger pieces. Her hand fell away from his shoulder. "I'll get this swept up in no time. Just tell me where the broom is."

Gracia Hughes was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was small and gentle. "Elicia, could you go and get the broom for Edward, please?"

Elicia's scampering feet disappeared down the hall with a 'yes mommy' and they were alone. Gracia knelt down beside Ed and slowly began picking up glass, working in mutual silence.

Edward glanced at Gracia's concerned face and back down to the shattered plate. She knew. She could see the brokenness of a divided soul. After all, her own had been severed in two years ago.

Ed looked up at her again. Her empathetic green eyes met his tortured gold.

"It's going to be alright Edward." She smiled. "It's only a little mess. It's easy to think that's the world is going to end. But once we get this cleaned up and cleared away, we'll hardly remember it happened. Just be careful and try not to hurt yourself while you're picking up the pieces."

Edward stared at Mrs. Gracia Hughes. He felt the cool glass kiss the skin of his palms and wondered if she was talking about the plate.

Elicia came back then, broom in hand and Gracia's words moved temporarily to the back of Edwards mind.

He spent a few more hours at the Hughes', inspecting photographs taken of Elicia with grandparents, at birthday parties and school. He watched the two Hughes women as they giggled over one inside joke or another and felt his heart squeeze painfully. The Gracia from five years ago was gone. She wasn't broken. She hadn't let her husband's death shatter her. She'd cleaned up the plate and moved on.

It hurt Ed a little, to think about his life like this. They made it sound like his pain was nothing, it would pass and the world would go on as though nothing had ever happened. But that was the truth. A truth he was maybe a little more ready to hear.

His pain, in the grand scheme of universe and God, really was trivial. It would pass and eventually, his world would go on turning. Not today, maybe not tomorrow either, or the day after that. But it would and Ed had to keep living for that day. Because he couldn't live a life of shattered glass.

As Edward bid the Hughes' goodbye he was smiling again. It was his first real smile in a long time.

That was when the world exploded.

XX

Roy's feet pounded the pavement. He could hear them following. Good, then the ambassador was safe. His own future, however, was less secure.

The sun was dipping down below the skyline, painting the world in deeper hues.

The man sent from Drachma had arrived safely and thankfully, a little late. Roy was still pinning the last of his medal onto his freshly pressed dress uniform when the train pulled into the station. After a brief introduction, Roy found himself explaining why it was he and not Grumman here to receive the Drachman Ambassador.

The man's response astonished Roy. He was not only incredibly apologetic when he learned of Grumman's sudden death but he even went so far as to express a desire to visit the gentleman's grave should the opportunity arise. The man was surprisingly gracious when he learned few preparations had been made for his lodging, but nodded gravely and said any hotel room would be paradise compared to the train. And during the ride back to Central he regaled Roy and Riza with stories from his native land, entertaining

And then the carpet had been yanked out from under him.

He'd looked out the window and frowned. Derelict warehouses lined the empty streets. Roy felt his blood run cold.

"Where are we?" He barked at the driver.

"Just a short-cut, Fuerher." The man responded.

"Turn around." Roy barked, but it was already too late. He heard the report, felt the impact. The sound and scent of shredded tire rubber filled his nostrils and their car overturned. Riza went for the driver, but the man stuck a pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger, spraying them with red and white.

Roy wiped splatter from his eyes in time to see seven men converging on the shattered vehicle. A painful hail of bullets was sent ricocheting around the steel trap. The Ambassador was struck in the shoulder and side. One bullet tore a hole in Roy's new dress uniform, Bastards.

It was all Riza and Roy could do to keep them back from the car. Roy couldn't get his hands or head out long enough for a concentrated blast of fire. He was lucky if he could toast one before spraying gunfire forced him back under cover.

"They're going to kill us." The man from Drachma clutched his side.

"No they're not." Roy ducked as another volley pinged off the car's dented door. "I won't let them." He looked Riza in the eye.

She nodded, already covering the Ambassador's body with her own. She tossed a grenade. He smothered it in flame.

Light and heat exploded around them as fiery tongues engulfed the street. And then they were on the move, Roy and Riza supporting the Ambassador between them. It was only a few minutes before they were being chased once more down the strangely deserted streets.

Bullets thudded around them. Roy had time to wonder where the Military Police were before he was telling Riza to split up and take the long way around to the Armstrong mansion. He would hopefully lead them towards the Command Center and keep their attention away from the wounded Ambassador. Riza nodded, with only a little sadness in her face. It was time to be the soldier, not the woman.

Roy turned and sent out a scorching jet of flame. Their pursuers were eviscerated. In another moment he had transmuted himself what he hoped would look like the Ambassador in the semi-dark.

And now Roy Mustang was running through the streets of Amestris, a dummy's arm slung across his shoulders whilst bullets pummeled the pavement at his feet.

He was nearly to the Command Center. He could see the lights, a steady beam that was guiding him closer towards safety.

He felt the bullet catch the skin of his neck. It was embarrassing, it didn't do much more than etch a nice furrow into the nape before it sped by. But the momentum flung him to the ground.

Someone's barking laugh pierced the ringing in his ears. Roy flung himself onto his back and snapped, and the nearest assassin disappeared with a bloodless scream.

Four others emerged from the lengthening shadows, pistols pointed at Mustang.

Roy clapped and felt the surge of Alchemic power flow through him. He still didn't like transmuting this way, but needs must. He pressed his hands to the concrete and a wall heaved itself up out of the ground just in time. Gunfire peppered its surface, but Roy was safe from it for the moment. They would come around that barrier anytime and plaster him. It was now or never.

Mustang reached around the concrete wall and pressed his fingers together. He didn't like transmuting where he couldn't see, but there was no choice.

He heard the surprised cry and the sharp report of gunfire. But his thumb and forefinger were still pressed tightly together. More shouts and thuds and shots were heard. Someone was fighting, was it Riza?

Roy flung himself from cover, both hands poised in front of him. Shock stopped him dead in his tracks.

Dancing amongst the assassins, a deadly dancer, laying out a heavy rain of blows was a man Roy had not seen in five years.

"Fullmetal?"

XX

Ed was already running towards the sound of the explosion before its echo had died away. It was almost unnerving how easily he became that boy of 15. It was instinctive to go and run to the source of the explosion; to see if anyone was hurt or needed his help.

He turned a corner just in time to see half a dozen armed men follow two figures down an alley.

More side-streets. Ed groaned internally, but still gave chase. He passed the smoldering wreckage of a lone military vehicle. He had time enough to wonder what it was doing out in a more abandoned part of the city before adrenaline swept it away.

Ed caught up to the running men and saw a wall tear up and out or the ground in the middle of the street. So they had an Alchemist trapped. He wondered if it was Armstrong since the muscle-bound maniac used stone based alchemy.

He didn't have more than a second to ponder it though. The wall had done its job, but now the gunmen were circling around to get a shot at the Alchemist behind. Ed didn't think. He reacted.

Even with the loss of his Automail arm, Edward had been thrilled to find his technique required only minor adjustments. It was the loss of his Alchemy which caused him several…hiccups over the years on the road to self-rediscovery. But he'd adapted to weaker punches and adopted a new, footwork-based style.

Ed leaped, leading his prosthetic leg into the nearest goon. He felt the satisfying crunch of bone and was sprinting to the next man who took a right to the sternum before Ed's elbow dropped him to the pavement.

He saw a figure emerge from behind the hastily constructed barrier, but he was too focused on the guy trying to get a bead on him. That wasn't happening.

Ed slid in low and caught the man's legs. The gun exploded and skidded across the street, safely away from the Alchemist. He smirked and drew his arm back just as something smashed against the back of his skull.

Stars burst across his eyes and Ed flopped onto the road, what little of his mind remained floating above the crashing waves of pain screamed at him. Move. Move. Move. Move. Move. Move now. Move now!

A second, vicious blow to the head sent him back down, sprawling on his stomach. His mind spun hazily as he tried to fend off the booted heel, turning onto his back and trying to get his arms up. The attacker was a muted blur dancing in front of his eyes. It raised its foot, ready to crush his head like a grapefruit.

And then the man burst into flame.

Ed felt a rush of heat against the back of his neck and tried to look behind him. Something was burning there too, he thought he remembered what it might be, but the ache in his head wouldn't let him. Black was threading along the edges of his vision and no matter how Ed tried to push it away, it seemed to creep steadily inwards until a few grey streaks were all he could see.

He felt himself hit the ground, but softly, like he'd just decided to ease himself down.

Somewhere in the distance, someone was shouting, but their words were garbled and fuzzy. Ed told them to speak clearly; or…maybe he told them that, he couldn't hear what he was saying either.

And then someone was pulling him up. His head violently protested the action. Ed cursed and might've mumbled something to whoever was grabbing onto his head to stop jerking him around so much couldn't they see he was mortally wounded. It was something like that anyway; the throbbing in his skull was making him say strange things, if anything at all.

"Fullmetal." The voice was grainy. It sounded like it belonged to a person he should remember, but it hurt too much to think.

"Idiot, don't call me that." He muttered to the voice and let the siren song of sleep overtake him.

Funny, siren song sounded like a man chuckling.