Three

Ed

Being suspended from school, Ed soon discovered, was boring.

Mr. Archer, the principle, had cornered him as soon as he had left the office with the Colonel, hands on hips and glasses flashing a warning. Ed had flinched in guilt upon seeing the older man and while he certainly didn't regret pounding Envy and his cronies into the cafeteria floor, it didn't mean he felt any better about the fight itself and the fact that he had actually gotten into one. Again. Honestly, he would have thought Envy would have learned by now, as Ed had been winning fist fights against the jerk for several months now (Though he did admit that when he wasn't catching Envy off guard, the other teen was actually hard to beat)

But then he had the principle glaring down at him and his bloody knuckles and automail and was riddled with guilt because he actually had promised the man no more fights.

"What happened to our agreement, Mr. Elric?" the man had demanded and all Ed was able to do was shrug helplessly. He could hardly tell the man that he had been holding his temper in check just fine until the asshole had said what he did about Alphonse, who hadn't left Ed's side and remained unhelpfully silent.

"Well, if you seem to feel you can do anything you want, you can do it at home. You have a ten day suspension. Don't bother coming to school tomorrow," was that disappointment Ed had seen as he stared at the man in horror? Well, what the hell did he know? Ed had swallowed past the furious lump that had risen in his throat and glanced up to see Al's face, which had remained impassive the entire time. His brother agreed with Mr. Archer. Of course he did.

Ed sighed loudly now, sprawled on the still-ruined couch, hair in disarray, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms.

It was only mid-day of his first day of punishment and he was already about to go nutty. At least school offered some sort of diversion, though the type of things he did to amuse himself usually got him into trouble. Here, there was nothing but the TV and thoughts of nightmares and war. Anxiety was making him card his fingers through his hair every ten minutes, restless fingers pulling at fantastic waves of gold.

After he had been brought violently back from dreams the night before, he'd been unable to go back to sleep, his own screams still echoing in his ears. He wondered if Al even woke up anymore, having stopped coming into his room after such episodes years ago. Al never mentioned it and Ed never thought to ask. It happened and that was it. There was nothing he could do to make the dreams go away. It was the least he deserved. Instead, he would lay and stare at the ceiling, trying to still the faint muttering of panic still beating at his chest. Finally, as is routine, he gave up and tiptoed to the kitchen and sat at the table cradling a tepid cup of tea until the sun began to add color to the shadowed room. This was how Al found him, just like he had been for years, amber eyes quiet and knowing, taking in the dark bruises under Ed's eyes with wordless worry. The gentle touch on Ed's shoulder banished the rest of the nightmares that still clung to his eyes and he forced a smile for his younger brother. It was the same every time and still, after seven years, not a word was broached on the subject.

Al's "stay out of trouble please, brother," as he left for school that day had been as quiet as his comforting touch but the warning was there, steel thinly disguised by gentle words.

But, Lord, he was so fucking BORED!!

The TV holding no interest, he wandered into his bed room to throw on some clothes then wandered aimlessly around the apartment a few times, attempting to straighten up a bit of the mess that they lived with. It was pointless and after a few minutes, he was back to the kitchen and was staring out the window over the sink.

Then an impulse clutched him and he slammed his feet into his boots and left the apartment, not really caring if he missed the phone call by the school when they checked to make sure he didn't do what he was about to do (which was leave the apartment).

Throwing caution to the wind, he walked the familiar roads to the only place he really liked; Central's Public Library.

**

Ed had always felt that books were like little windows, opening the doors to possibilities; worlds of information at the disposal of his fingers, easy access, ready for his brain to absorb. Before he was eleven, it was always alchemy books, piles and piles of them, a flood of information that he crammed into his head with a single minded determination, inhaling every word with eager eyes, always seeking more.

The reading had stopped for a while after the day that had stolen almost everything from his young life, including his right arm and left leg. Yet it wasn't long before the thirst to know things seized him again and as soon as he had gotten his automail, he was reading again, this time just because he could, the books his hungry fingers picking up any subject and sucking the tomes dry. Which was why he loved Central's library as it held more books in one place than anywhere else in Ametris and he had read books from every section with every subject he could get his hands on.

Except for one.

Alchemy.

Now he stood among the towering shelves laden with books on a subject he had only attempted to pick up on once after the accident and then had sworn never to get involved with again. As his eyes swept over the spines of the books, his palms were damp with anxiety, the thirst that usually gripped him as he stood in such places missing. The cramping in his stomach made him wonder if he should make a dash for the bathroom but the words of the Colonel sat heavily in the back of his mind. Since a single attempt at alchemy since he was eleven that had left him hanging over the toilet for a day, he had stayed far away from the subject. He didn't want to relearn alchemy, hadn't had the desire for a long time. And yet…and yet…

He took a deep breath. Then another.

The knowledge that had been taken from him but it didn't mean he couldn't regain it. The weight of it sat heavy on his heart, the pain that came with knowing certain things and abusing certain powers. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice but neither could he turn a blind eye to who he was.

With a shaking hand, he pulled a book from the shelf and began the long, arduous task of reclaiming what he had lost.

Al

When Al returned home that afternoon, dirty from baseball practice, he found their kitchen table besieged by an army of books that spilled over the edges onto the chairs and floors and Ed's nose buried in a thick tome, surrounded by pages of hastily hand-written notes. Al was used to the sight of the books stacked like this, though perhaps not quite so many books and never the notes. Still, thinking nothing of it, he smiled as the show of his brother's dedication.

Then he picked up a book out of simple curiosity, wondering what his brother was so excited about this time. Yet as he caught the title of the book he held, the smile slid right off his face to fall to the floor.

The Origins of Alchemy

Al looked up sharply to find Ed watching him over the top of the book in his hands, eyes calm and waiting. Al took a deep breath and carefully put the book down, hand shaking slightly. He frowned. It wasn't that it bothered him that his brother was trying to learn alchemy again. It had nothing to do with Al, really, though he too had known alchemy (though Ed had been twenty times better than him at it). He still did but because of his brother's promise, he hadn't transmuted a single object since he was ten. Yet it had been Ed that was most affected by what had happened seven years ago and any mention usually had the shorter teen tensing up either in fear or remembered pain. The first and last time after the incident he had tried to draw a circle, he'd ended up sick in the bathroom for twenty four hours and nightmares for a month. Actually, the nightmares never went away. It worried Al more than he let Ed know but he had no idea what to do about it.

All that agony all because of a misplaced confidence, the wishes of two small boys and alchemy.

Yet there Ed sat, watching his younger brother with his yellow eyes, surrounded by the one thing that they had both sworn never to get involved in again. For some reason, it made Al's heart race in anticipation. It felt almost as if he knew this day was coming.

"Al?" Ed's voice jarred him away from his thoughts and Al leveled his own look at his older brother.

"Yes, Brother?" he asked, trying to figure out if Ed was having any sort of reaction to the subject he had mired himself in. Except for the crease in between his golden eye brows that usually meant a headache, he was entirely composed. Al let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Say something, please," Al arched an eyebrow and his eyes swept over the impressive pile of books.

"How did you convince them at the library to let you take out so many books?" Al asked with an incredulous half-grin, picking out another book and flipping it open. He missed the grateful look his brother sent him, mixed with the tiny hint of hope that Al would disapprove. Then he grinned and it lacked the shadows it normal held. Al decided he was glad he hadn't missed that as well.

"Well, it took a lot of convincing and I had to take two trips with my car but I guess I can be pretty convincing when I need to be," Ed laughed and it sounded a little forced and a lot relieved. Al joined in the laugh, thinking of the poor librarians getting caught up in one of Ed's tirades, complete with shining puppy eyes and what he was sure was shameless begging.

"Really, brother, you shouldn't take advantage of people," Al admonished gently, carefully clearing off another chair so he could sit at the table that was creaking alarmingly under the weight of so many books. It was actually really frightening how easily Ed could get what he wanted, using his superior intelligence to find the target and his looks to drive it home. He almost always got what he wanted.

"Who said I was taking advantage of anyone?" Ed returned with a small smile that said he had known exactly what he had been doing, "I simply asked as nicely as I could if I could take out all the books they had on Alchemy. When they said no, I took half. I didn't take out the whole section and everyone is happy," to which Al snorted in disbelief.

Silence fell and Al absently flipped through the pages of the book, pausing as he came across a diagram or a transmutation circle. It was odd, to say the least, looking through alchemy books again after so many years. It made Al wonder what had changed.

"Brother…?" he started, getting his brother's attention again.

"Hmmm?"

"Was…is this because of that man you talked to yesterday? The Colonel?" Al brought his attention back to Ed's face so he could see his reaction clearly. Ed went very still at the mention of the Colonel, eyes quieting until he could have been a statue. It was his flesh hand that gave him away, clutching the cover of the book he had been reading with enough force to crinkle the pages just a bit, knuckles white with tension. Understanding flooded through Al then, clear and somewhat disturbing and it made him wonder how long it would take his brother to realize it. The thought made Al sigh quietly.

"You remember the war, right Al?" was the quiet response, the raw vocalization startling Al. But Ed wasn't looking at his brother; he was looking at the pages in front of him as if they had held the answer to ending all the pain, silencing every pleading cry for comfort. Al didn't remember the war all that well; he'd only been four but he remembered its after math on both the people who had fought in it and those who had just gotten caught in the cross fires. Many of them were worse off than his brother. It made him ache to recall. "I remember. I remember the men that came back missing limbs, half-crazy from all that they had seen, all that they had been made to do. I remember when some of them never came back at all and I can remember thinking if this was what war meant, isn't it better not to fight at all? Then Winry's parents…and for what? Why? Did all those people lose so much for nothing? We are fighting the same war all over again, as if the one fifteen years ago never even happened…" and Ed's voice faded away, leaving the brothers sitting in total silence, the unfairness, the injustice of it permeating the air until it was almost hard to breathe.

The truth always hurt the most and while Al was sure part of the reason Ed had returned to alchemy was because of a certain handsome, dark eyed Colonel, it was mostly because his brother couldn't think about others suffering if there was something he could do to help. It was what made Ed who he was, that he was able to use his own pain as a focus so that he might understand others better.

"So, you've made your decision then?" Al asked after he was sure he wouldn't choke. Sometimes his brother made him feel less human and lacking. Ed peered at Al for a moment, his eyes sharp as if trying to figure out how Al would react to which of the possible answers he could give. Al wasn't worried; his brother had never been anything but truthful with him. Finally, Ed dropped his eyes to his right arm, where it gleamed brightly in the fading daylight.

"Not yet, Al. It's not really my fight, after all," he said quietly and Al knew that was the least of the reasons his brother had for holding back. He wondered what the others might be. Al gave the older teen a soft smile, swallowing past the lump that had formed when he realized what he needed to say.

"But it never is, brother, and you always end up fighting anyway,"

The sun fell from the sky and the two sat in the darkness with the last of Al's words gnawing at their hearts.

Ed

Things were, somehow, a little more comfortable after Al's pleasant little bomb and the two teens settled down that night after dinner and read until the small hours of the night, comparing notes every once and a while or Ed asking a question which Al would dig through his memories to find an answer. It was such a familiar pattern and Ed's anxiety had faded as soon as Al had sat down with him at the table with the intent of dredging up his memories of what he had known about alchemy. It didn't matter what they were doing, Ed was always more comfortable with Al around. He seemed to soothe frayed nerves that Ed didn't know he had.

The strangest thing was to be reading basic alchemy books that he knew he had read before but couldn't remember what they had said. He remembers the hours upon hours he had spent reading countless books on the subject. He even remembers the burn behind his eyes as he pushed himself, staying up late night after night and the feel of the pages turning under his fingers but in his memory, all of those pages were blank. Every transmutation circle he had ever drawn held no significance. He really was starting all over again. Grudgingly, not really wanting to drag Al into his new undertaking, he would ask questions when the book was vague and he couldn't find the answers in another. Always, Al was patient and when he didn't know the answer, they would rummage through book after book until Ed had ten more questions; and it was strange because he could remember when it was the other way around, as he had been better than Al at alchemy. He remembered that too but the words and the ideas that they had shared were a convenient blank.

When Ed finally tore his eyes from the sixth book he had ravished that night and past the scattered pages of notes, the clock over the microwave read 4:30 and an exhausted was Al slumped over the table, snoring lightly and the book he had been reading dangling from slack fingers. Ed smiled when he noticed Al drooling on the cover of an unfortunate book as he quietly snored away before getting up and shaking the younger boy.

Al started awake, blinking blearily.

"I fell asleep?" he asked, voice rough and gravely. Ed laughed as he filled two glasses of water for them, handing one to his brother than emptying his in one shot.

"You fell asleep around two thirty. I felt bad waking you up," Ed responded apologetically as he appraised the kitchen that looked like a tornado had dumped half of the library in their house, Ed's notes littering any available surfaces. Al sipped the water then sighed.

"I should go to bed. I have to go to school in a couple hours," he ended with a groan and slumped over the table again, hiding his face in the crook of one arm. Ed snorted.

"You haven't missed a day all year. No one will care if you skip tomorrow," he said casually, leaning against the counter and ignoring his own fatigue. One amber eye popped open and peered over the concealing arm, the expression in it incredulous.

"What kind of role model are you, telling his younger brother to skip school?" Al's voice was muffled but Ed was sure he sounded hopeful.

"Who said I was a role model?" Ed demanded, feigning annoyance. The automail flashed in the light of the kitchen's ceiling light as he planted his fists on his hips and the stern look on Ed's face made the taller of them laugh. Al rose stiffly and with a final wave at his brother, began to navigate his way towards his bedroom past the land mines on the floor. For some reason, as he watched his brother leave, Ed had the need for contact with another human and he found himself with his hands wrapped in the material of the back of his brother's shirt and his face pressed against a warm, firm back. A smell that was uniquely Al surrounded him and he could breathe again.

"Brother?" worry was thick in his brother's voice. Ed wasn't usually one to initiate physical contact and he could understand why Al would be concerned.

"Al?" he whispered and his brother's shoulders tensed against his cheek.

"Yeah?" pause.

"Thank you," it was barely audible even to Ed's ears but the easing of Al's shoulders said that he had heard.

"You're welcome, Ed,"

**

Ed didn't sleep much that week, diving into the research with a ferocious determination, drinking in as much information as he could and by the end of the second day of his suspension from school, he was transmuting small objects with simple compositions. It started out easy and he was frustrated that he couldn't work faster but he couldn't move onto changing the composition of an object before first mastering shape changing.

Al stayed home the first day, despite his protests, sleeping until almost one and waking up to find the entirety of their silverware and drinking glasses changed into little glass roses and silver figures of people, perfect down to the last detail. The grin could have split his face in half and Ed could feel relief swelling in his chest. Then Al seemed to notice something that made his smile go sour.

"ED! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO EAT WITH?!"

Something was bothering him, however, like a gentle tug at the back of his mind, every time he drew a transmutation circle and pressed his hands to its edge. Like there was something he was missing, that he had known before but had been wiped from his memory along with everything else. It didn't feel wrong; just different. Yet because it was most certainly stemmed from something that happened that night seven years ago, he didn't say anything to Al.

Ed liked the way performing alchemy felt too much to let anything stop him now.

**

As the days passed, he also had another thing pressing on the back of his mind. The card that had the phone number of a certain dark-eyed Colonel was burning a hole in his pocket (figuratively of course). It sat on the kitchen counter, within easy reach, the corners already dog eared and a bit frayed from the number of times Ed has picked it up with the intention of dialing the number on it. Yet every time he stood in front of the phone, fingers poised over the buttons, he would read the name on the card, reading Colonel Roy Mustang over and over and remember the quiet confidence and cool smirk and would chicken out. He had no idea what to say to the man. It bothered him that couldn't buck up enough courage to actually dial the number. He'd never be a particularly self-conscious person and usually making a simple phone call wouldn't have been so hard. What was it about the Colonel that made Ed hesitate? Whatever it was, it was beginning to get old.

It was Friday already and Ed now stood in front of the phone, staring that the black keys and white numbers like the phone was going to dial itself. He rather wished it would because it seemed his fingers refused to do it for him. By now he had memorized the number from the card and he only held the card so that he could run his fingers over the little black letters.

Seriously, what was the issue? Mustang had told him to call. Why was he being such a wuss about it.

He could hear Al in the living room, giggling at a cartoon and munching on popcorn as they were taking a break from studying (which meant Ed was running out of things to transmute). The TV mumbled and the sounds of the antics made by the grey rabbit with an affection for carrots were accompanied by bops and other assortment of noises only cartoons could make. Ed knew his brother had noticed his hesitation and he was grateful that Al knew the value of discretion. He wouldn't tease his older brother about something like this. Hopefully.

It was the fact that there was something for Al to tease him about that finally made him make up his mind. He threw his hands in the air.

"Ah, fuck it," and grabbed the phone out of the cradle, punching the numbers fast enough that he wouldn't have time to chicken out again.

He nearly dropped the phone when it rang.

Somehow, when the phone didn't clatter to the floor and when a cool voice answered the voice with a precise tone, he managed to force his voice past the nerves that had settled in his throat.

"Um, hi. I was wondering if I could talk to Colonel Mustang?" yeah, that was good. At least it was a woman and not the Colonel himself of the phone or Ed was sure he'd be a dithering idiot.

"Who is this?" asked the calm voice. Ed swallowed.

"E-Edward Elric. I'm calling about the visit he made to my school…"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Elric. I'm sorry, but the Colonel has stepped out of his office. Would you like to make an appointment? He should be back tomorrow after one," And for some reason, Ed felt his heart fall just a little in disappointment. Stupid, he told himself, what were you expecting?

"Sure, that would be fine. I can be there at one." He said, voice sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

"Very well. I shall let the Colonel know," the line went dead. Ed let out a sharp breath and stared at the phone for a minute, relief and anxiety clanging around in his head so that he wasn't sure how to put the phone back for a minute. Well, he was committed now and he knew it was the prospect of agreeing to go to war that should be what was making him nervous but he knew that the flutter at the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the man he was going to see tomorrow. With distracted fingers, he put the phone down and plopped down at the table, determined to lose himself in alchemy.

What he didn't notice was the small, knowing smile on Al's lips as the younger teen munched on popcorn and wondered just what it was about this Colonel that had his brother so enamored…

Sitting at a desk in Central's military headquarters, Riza Hawkeye gently put the phone down and stared at it for a moment. So that was the boy Roy had been talking about. Well, and obsessing over, if his hovering by the phone as if waiting for his crush to call was anything to go by. It seemed things were going to start getting interesting around the office.

Riza allowed herself a small smile. Oh, yes, very interesting.

Somewhere on a train bound for a small town outside of Central, a dark haired man in a blue Ametris uniform sneezed loudly.

To be continued...