I was impatient to write more of this story, so I've been writing this over the past couple of days on my phone. Any grammar mistakes in Ed's letters are because I don't think his grammar skills would be perfect. Any other mistakes are probably just my fault.
This is a compilation of the first few letters Roy and Ed sent to each other after the Promised Day, as well as the beginning of their first phone call.
I wanted to show how they started talking and building a more positive relationship after the series ended. I have plans for more series of letters from different points in their friendship/relationship, and for some AlWin letters. Let me know what you think :)
This chapter takes place months (about 5 or 6) after the Promised Day (not when Ed and Al left the hospital and Central - I think Al would have needed to be there for weeks, if not a full month, at least, to have the muscle strength to walk from the train station to Winry's).
Fullmetal,
I hope this letter finds you well. As you may or may not remember, Elicia's birthday is fast approaching. I'm sure she would be delighted if her big brothers Ed and Al were to attend her birthday party. It's the Saturday after next. If the both of you are able to make it, perhaps I could pick you up from the train station and we could surprise her. An added gift as it were.
Looking forward to your response,
Brigadier General Roy Mustang
DEAR Bastard,
What? I don't even merit a greeting? I saved the world with you, jackass, the least you could do is cut the "Fullmetal" crap. It reminds me of seeing your smarmy face and hearing your smarmy voice in your office. Then I have to read that ridiculously formal letter. What the hell are you playing at, Mustang? I don't work for you anymore, I shouldn't still have to slog through your bullshit.
Of course Al and I know about Elicia's party. We each got invitations, so did Winry. I bet you just heard about it from someone and invited yourself. I don't know why anyone would want you there enough to actually invite you. We can't go anyway. It's only been a few months and Al isn't far enough in his physical therapy for a trip to Central. It would have been fun to see Elicia, but at least we don't have to endure you.
Sincerely,
Edward Elric
The FORMER Fullmetal Alchemist who knows how to address a fucking letter
My dearest, brattiest, shortest former, or current, underling,
It is very hypocritical to bitch about an improperly addresses letter when yours is addressed to "Bastard." And you should know that the salutation I have chosen for this letter is in no way meant to exclude future subordinates I may have, for I doubt I shall ever have a shorter brat work for me than you. I'm not entirely sure that there is anyone in the country that is shorter than you. Elicia has grown quite a bit; it would have been fun to see just how far her height surpasses your own. Too bad you can't make the party.
How is your brother's rehabilitation going? I haven't heard from him since you both left Central. And out of politeness I suppose I should ask how you are doing. I hope you don't take offense to my manners being "ridiculous" and "smarmy," you little punk.
Sincerely yours,
Brigadier General Roy Mustang
Dear Bastard,
because how the hell else am I supposed to address a letter to you? Brigadier General is too long to write out for a damn greeting. I'm not doing it, so get over yourself. Have you ever noticed that Mustang has the same number of letters as Bastard? Since they take the same amount of effort to write, I went with the one that suits you best.
WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORTER THAN THE PIN ON ELICIA'S PIN THE TAIL ON THE DONKEY!? I WILL END YOU! YOU ARE DEAD THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU YOU BASTARD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! DEAD! DEAD!
I hate you so much
I was so mad at you today that I accidentally missed the nail and hammered my thumb when fixing the roof. If I need surgery, I'm billing you.
I wouldn't have even bothered to write you back, but I was so mad and wanted to yell at you. And you asked about Al.
He's doing good. He can walk all the way to mom's grave and only need one break now. Once he can make it all the way there we're going to work on walking to the market. He can write his name a lot clearer now too. We got these big pencils for him from the hospital, and Al hates them, but they're really cool. Like you know how we used to throw pencils at the ceiling in the office sometimes? Well these suckers stick so much better, and they scare the crap out of people when they fall. It scared Den pretty bad yesterday. Al made me feel bad because it's a dog and all you know, but it was so funny when it scared Winry. She jumped so high! You'll have to try them some time. They're like fucking darts. Havoc would love them.
Hope you're having fun with your lame pencils,
Ed
Oh, and tell Elicia that we say hi and happy birthday. If you don't, then you're a bigger bastard than I thought.
Dearest Fullmetal,
I hope my salutation is still satisfactory, even if my last one was more colorful and accurate. Have you ever noticed that my first name is only 3 letters? This makes it significantly easier to write than any title or name that you've ever used to address me.
Please tell me you yelled at my letter. I bet you did. I can see it now, especially based off of your reply. You ranted in a letter. I can't believe it. Thank you, I needed a laugh!
That's great news to hear about Al. Please tell him that all of us here in Central think of him often and wish him the best. We'd love to see him when he is able to travel.
Of course I passed your message along to Elicia. She was very happy to hear from you, and loved the gift you sent her. You should expect pictures from her party and a card full of scribbles to arrive in the mail any day now.
You were fixing a roof? Don't try to blame your incompetence in construction on me. Why don't you try looking where you swing the hammer instead of blaming others?
Sincerely,
Brigadier General Roy Mustang
The Flame Alchemist, who knows how to properly add a postscript to a letter
P.S. No, Fullmetal, I cannot hear you in a letter. Though if I recall, I also had trouble hearing, or seeing, you in person as well. Are you still shorter than my desk?
WHO ARE YOU CALLING TOO SHORT TO FIT INTO THE SMALLEST MILITARY UNIFORM THIS COUNTRY CAN MAKE YOU ASS?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SEND ME?! WHY?
IF I HAVE TO CALL YOU ROY THAN YOU HAVE TO CALL ME ED. IT'S LESS LETTERS THAN FULLMETAL. EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE!
Al was happy everyone was rooting for him.
"Ed, phone for you," Winry called.
Ed got up from his seat across from Al at the table to hesitantly answer the phone. No one ever called him, so who would call now, on a Sunday morning?
"Hello?"
"It's called a chessboard. I would have thought a prodigy would have been able to figure that much out on his own."
"Colonel?!"
"Brigadier General," Mustang corrected, and Ed could hear his smirk.
"Do you ever shut up about being promoted?"
"Only as often as you grow."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALLER THAN THE DAMN STAR THEY ADDED TO YOUR FUCKING UNIFORM?!" Ed cut off as he heard laughter ring through the phone. "So did you just call to insult me or what?"
"Actually, since you decided to waste postage by sending me two sentences, I though I'd remind you that telephones exist and might be a better way to get a message to me."
"It was like five sentences, and- shut up! Seriously, does anyone fucking like you?"
"I could give you a list of people who would be happy to give first hand accounts of just how likable I am."
"I don't need your little black book, Mustang," Ed said with a roll of his eyes.
"Hmm, maybe not. I mean, you did somehow talk your way into living with a beautiful woman."
"Uh huh, whatever. Why'd you send me a damn chessboard?"
"You sounded bored."
"Of course I did, I was talking to you."
"Right," Mustang said, deadpan. "Well, I thought I'd give your mind something to focus on before you skewered someone with a pencil."
"Oh fuck you. I didn't mention the pencils because I was bored; I was just trying to bring up the only good memory I have of you. Figured if we were going to be pen pals or whatever then I could try being nice, but fine. Just accuse me of manslaughter by pencil, see if I care."
"As you put it, we 'saved the world together,' and yet your best memory of me is throwing pencils at a ceiling?"
"Yeah, well getting a pencil to stay in a ceiling for a full week is more impressive than going blind right at the good part of the fight, so that you could fumble around while I was busy saving the-"
"Excuse me?"
"I knew you were lazy, but that was a little extreme just to avoid some work. Even for you."
"Maybe you need to freshen your memory to just how useful I can be."
"Well maybe you helped some, but I mostly just remember you being useless." There was a pause, and at first Ed wondered if Mustang was counting to ten- he did that sometimes when they were arguing, usually while fingering his gloves- but Ed was able to count to twenty before Mustang finally spoke. So either Ed counted fast, or Mustang felt the need to count higher, or Ed's guess was just wrong.
"So have you ever played chess before?"
"No." Ed hesitated, not wanting to admit anything good about Mustang's gift. He looked back to Al, who was sitting with the chessboard. "Al and I were just studying the directions you sent with it. Al seems to think it'll be a great daily exorcise for his mind while his body regains its strength."
"Of course it-"
"Don't try to act like than was your idea from the start," Ed snapped, turning back to face the window positioned above the phone base.
"Why not? I'm brilliant and think of everything. Haven't you realized that yet?"
Ed scoffed. "You are so full of yourself."
"I actually did think it would be good for you," Mustang said, voice going serious. "I've always enjoyed chess, and I think it's a game that you would be able to master with practice. It'll teach you a new, more patient type of logic that I think would benefit you more than the rash way of thinking you have now." Ed almost interrupted, but Mustang continued before he could. "And it'll stimulate your mind more than fixing a roof could."
"I told you, I'm not bored. Just because you obviously don't know how to enjoy doing physical labor, or hell, even how to do physical labor at all, and just because you're bored, stuck at a desk full of paperwork, doesn't mean the rest of us aren't loving the downtime after all the chaos. I'm living my dream, Mustang. Restore Al and return to Risembool; that was the plan-that was always the plan-and a few details may be different than we imagined, but I achieved my goal. And I'm going to be happy and enjoy that achievement. And if learning chess is part of how I do that, then that doesn't mean I'm fucking bored."
Ed listened to the silence coming from Mustang's side of the phone as Ed tried to even his breathing and calm down. Finally he heard, "My apologies."
"Right," Ed said before the awkward silence returned. Maybe this was an awful idea. Pen pals with the bastard? How could that ever work? They couldn't even get along in person, yet he was seriously considering trying to keep in touch through letters and phone calls? As if they could stand each other more with distance between them. They'd still hate each other if Amestris and Xing were separating them. The idea that they could be anything resembling friends was laughable, ridiculous, completely and utterly stupid, but still Ed found himself taunting, "I'm going to master this chess thing quicker than you ever did. I'll be good enough to beat you in no time!"
"You think so, huh?"
"I know so!"
Mustang hesitated, causing a small pause before Ed heard, "Did you know that two people can compete in a long distance chess match?"
"Oh yeah?"
"Tell me when you're 'good enough to beat me' and I'll show you how."
"You're on."