A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews! Your constructive criticism is very, very appreciated. But to clarify a few points: Ed and Al are in America in the middle of the 1920s, during the Prohibition Era. That means alcohol is illegal - however, the police turn a blind eye to esteemed institutions like New York University. Bribery may or may not be involved there.

Also, Edward isn't taking any classes because Alphonse was accepted into a Literature Exchange Program. This was because he wrote a book, called Amestris, in which he described everything that happened to them back in their home world. Edward was not accepted into this, and therefore was not accepted into NYU, period. And, partly, he doesn't want to take any classes, because he feels mentally and emotionally exhausted right now. Maybe he'll take some later, maybe he won't. Keep reading and find out! :)

Chapter Four: Mustang's Mechanics

The next day, Al left in the morning for a class he wanted to go to. But not before he told me that he would meet me at Mustang's Mechanic Garage at noon for lunch. I assured him I would be there, then took a long time to get ready.

And then I left the apartment, locked the door behind me, and went to accept Roy Mustang's offer.

When I arrived at the address on the card, there was a Mustang was under the hood of an automobile with a wrench. I cleared my throat, and he extracted himself from the greasy metal and turned around.

"Edward!" he said when he saw me. "I was hoping you'd stop by today." He pulled off thick gloves and wiped his hands on a grimy towel. "So what do you think? You want to work in my garage?"

"Yeah," I said. "Definitely."

"Any good with your hands?"

I paused for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I guess."

He laughed. "Good! When can you start?"

"Um, any time, I guess."

"How does today sound?"

"Oh. Um. Fine, I guess."

"Great!" said Mustang, clapping me on the back. "Go into that office right there," he said, pointing to a small building. "And tell Winnie that you're the newest recruit. She'll set you up, and then come back out here and I'll show you the ropes. Alright?"

"Okay," I said, happy with how easy this sounded. He grinned at me.

"Glad to have you on the team, Ed – can I call you Ed?"

"Can I call you Roy?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Then sure."

He smiled and tugged his gloves back on. "Oh, and Winnie's feeling a little rude today," he added. "If she snaps at you, just ignore it."

"Alright." I followed his directions and went into the office he had pointed at. Sitting at the desk, smashing a cigarette into an ashtray, sat Winry, in all her splendor and beauty. "Hi," I said dumbly.

She glanced up at me. "Can I help you?"

She didn't sound too friendly. "Oh, yeah. Mustang, I mean, Roy sent me in here. I'm the new recruit."

"Oh, joy," she said, rolling her eyes. She looked me over once, then again. "You're the guy who helped Becca, aren't you?"

"That's me."

"Great. Another hero." She sighed and got up, motioning for me to follow her. In a small back room, she bent down, rummaging around for something. "Michael's old uniform would probably fit you," she said, pulling out a navy blue uniform. "He was about your size." She threw the uniform at me. "Now come with me."

We went back to the desk. She sat down on one side and me on the other.

"Hours are nine to seven every day, except for Sundays, which you get off. Lunch breaks are noon to one. Can you do that?"

I nodded.

"Rates of pay are negotiable. We're not the richest company, so don't expect them to be extravagant. How does…this sound?"

She wrote a number on a piece of paper and slid it to me. I looked at it once, then nodded. "That looks good."

"Alright. Well, that was easy."

"Um, yeah. Okay."

"Put that uniform over your clothes and go see Roy. He'll explain everything else."

I nodded and did so.

Roy was still working under the hood of the automobile. He saw me coming and attempted to pull himself out, resulting in him banging his head on the hood. He swore under his breath, then smiled at me.

"Welcome to Mustang's Mechanics," he said, grinning at me. I smiled back sheepishly and nodded. "Now, do you know anything about cars?..."

For the next hour or so, he showed me pretty much everything to do with how automobile work, and how to fix them. It was a good job, really; it required thought as well as muscle. And I was surrounded by familiar faces, which comforted me.

Al arrived with lunch in a bag at the start of my lunch break. He took one look around the place, then grinned. "Wow."

"It's a good idea, isn't it?" I asked. Roy was in the small office with Winry, laughing uproariously at something.

"I just can't believe you found so many people you recognize," he said, shaking his head. "It's…unreal."

"It's great," I said. "Just like home."

There was silence. After a while, Roy came out of the office. "So is this the author brother I'm hearing so much about?" he asked.

Al began to salute, but, just in time, he made a save and held out his hand. "Yes sir. Alphonse Elric, sir." I tried to catch Al's eye. He didn't need to be saying sir so much.

"Roy Mustang," he said, shaking Al's hand. "Good to finally meet you. I hear you're a student at the University…"

"Oh, yes. I just came from a class, actually," replied Al, pointing at a pile of books.

"Oh really?" asked Roy. "I took a few courses at NYU myself. It's a fine school."

"Yes sir."

Roy looked at Al oddly for a second, then said, "I'm sorry, but have we met before? You seem familiar…"

I think my heart skipped a beat. Al just looked at him, stunned for a second, then he said breathlessly, "Um, I don't think so, sir."

"No need to call me sir, kid," said Roy, shaking his head. "I'm just a man, like you or him."

"You in the military?" I asked. I couldn't help it. Roy looked at me for a second, with that same odd look he had given Al, then replied.

"Army reserves," he said.

I nodded, feeling a hint of color rising to my cheeks. What a stupid question. Like it mattered.

"He was in the last war," said Winnie. I hadn't even noticed her come out. "We think it seriously messed him up in the head."

He smiled and shook his head. "Don't listen to her," he said. "She's a weird one."

Winnie smiled at him. It was the first time I had seen her smile. I noticed I was staring at her. "Lunch break's over," she said finally. "Time to get back to work."

I stood up. Al picked up all his things. "I'm going to go see if I can catch another class," he said, a hint of a grin on his face. "I'll see you later, Ed."

"See you, Al."

He left. Roy and I went back to the automobiles.

After a while of silence, he asked, "Why did you come with him?"

"What?" I asked.

"Your brother," he replied, still working on the car. "If he was accepted and you weren't, why'd you come with him? Didn't you have other family, or something, back in your home?"

I paused in my work. It was sort of an odd question. Then again, this Roy Mustang seemed to be sort of an odd man. "I don't know. We've just always stuck together, you know? I didn't want him to be alone here."

A short pause, then, "What were things like, before you came here? I've always dreamed of going to Europe someday…is it as good as the stories tell you?"

I smiled. "I wouldn't know. I've never heard any stories. But most of it is a good place. There are… a lot of good people there. But also a lot of bad people."

"There are bad people everywhere."

"But there are good people, too."

Roy pulled himself from out of under the hood. "What happened to you?" he asked thoughtfully. "You talk like you know something. Like you have a secret."

I smiled. "It's kind of hard to believe."

"I believe in plenty of things that other people find hard to believe."

I glanced at him. "Like what?"

"Well, I believe that I'm not crazy, for example." At my expression, he continued, "My wife has this strange idea that I should be scarred for life because of the war. She keeps trying to convince me that I'm insane." He smiled at me. "I started to believe it. But then I remembered I wasn't an idiot, and I'm just as sane as I want to be."

He went back under the hood of the car. "So are you going to tell me what happened to you or not?" he asked.

I thought about his words for a second. Then, slowly, I began to work on the car again. Maybe I could tell him a little of the truth.

"I left a girl," I said quietly.

"What was her name?" he asked. But he didn't sound nosy. Just dimly interested.

"Noa."

"Ah. I see."

I could tell from his voice that he knew I wasn't telling him everything. But I don't think he ever expected me to tell me the whole truth anyway.

So this was the way days passed. The weather got steadily colder, until finally, one day, Al and I awoke to a thin layer of snow on the ground outside. It was one of those freezing winter evenings when Al burst into the apartment and started babbling on incoherently.

After a moment of attempting to understand, I held my hands out and said, "Al, come on, slow down. What happened?"

He looked about ready to explode with happiness. "Brother! Guess what just happened?"

"What?"

"I've been offered a weekly column in the New York Times! Can you believe it?" He laughed. "This is so perfect!"

I stared at him for a second, then my face broke out into a smile. "That's great, Al. It really is."

He sat down on the couch and stared dreamily into the distance. "I can't believe it," he said. "I just can't believe it. It's so…" he paused, struggling to find the right word, "mind-boggling. Remarkable. Incredible. Amazing."

I laughed. "You're like my own personal walking, talking thesaurus."

He grinned. "I'm glad my talents are of some use." He paused, then said, "I need to get working. I want to write a few different articles, then decide which one I like best."

"Oh, Al." He looked at me. I shook my head. "Good luck with that. And have fun."

He nodded, that big grin still plastered across his face. I couldn't help but smile in return.

That night, as I as lying in bed, I could almost hear the soft flakes of snow hitting the walls of the apartment. It was a steady, comforting sound. I closed my eyes, and was surprised to find myself asleep in a few minutes.

But then the dream started.

It was Noa again. She was smiling at me, holding my hand. But then, even as I watched, her face morphed into Winry's – Winry's, not Winnie's – and she smiled, and I smiled. She kissed me. But it wasn't the feel of her lips. How could it have been? I'd never kissed Winry. I didn't know how it felt to be that close to her. So it was Noa's arms that held me close, even though it was Winry's eyes and hair and nose and face…

And then everything disappeared. I was standing in front of a burning house. It was my house. Our house. And it was burning. Suddenly, there was a bucket of water in my hands. I threw it at the house and the fire went out. For some reason, I walked into the house. I checked a few of the familiar rooms. Nothing. No one. But then…

That thing, that creature was staring at me. It wasn't moving, but its glowing eyes watched me, mocking everything my mother had been.

Suddenly, it was obscured by a hulking figure. "You don't want to see that, son," came a tired voice. I felt a stab of pain in my arm and leg.

Someone was grabbing my shoulders. I struggled against their hold, trying shake them off, but also the feeling of those eyes staring at me, daring me to love the hideous thing that I had created…

I awoke with a scream. Al was standing over me. He had been the one who was shaking me. He stopped when he saw my eyes open. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"Ed! Are you alright?"

My eyes flickered his way. "I'm fine. Just… just a bad dream."

"What was it about?"

There were a hundred answers on the tip of my tongue. Mom and Dad. Noa. Winry. You.

Instead, I just shrugged and sat up. "Nothing," I said. "…I…I can't even really remember anymore."

He nodded. I glanced outside. "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning."

"Oh." He looked tired. "Go back to sleep," I said. "I just need a drink of water."

"Right. Okay."

He fell back onto his bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold. I sighed and got up and went to the kitchen. Instead of getting water, however, I checked to see if the bottle of liquor had been refilled. It had. I poured myself a glass. Just a glass. It couldn't do any harm.

I ended up having several glasses before I finally stumbled back to bed, too exhausted to think. My thoughts were becoming fuzzy, which was good. I couldn't dream in this state. At least, not too much.

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I don't especially like this chapter, but it's leading up to some very, very important stuff, so keep reading. Also, this was written so long ago, I can barely remember writing it. Very strange.

I am starting chapter seventeen right now, so there will be plenty more updates soon. Thank you so much for reading! More constructive criticism, maybe?