Roy had offered to come with him to get his automail—he must had remembered how painful it was for the younger alchemist—but Ed had brushed the offer aside. He wanted as few people to see him like that as possible. Roy had all seen him at his worst, and he'd been Ed's rock over the past few months, but Ed wanted to keep what little pride he had left. He didn't want Roy to see him like that, writhing on Winry's table, so helpless, so broken.

The automail hurt more and longer than Ed remembered, and not for the first time, Ed cursed his metal limbs up and down. Apparently, he'd passed out from the pain during the implant of the new port; he'd slept for three days before the nightmare woke him. It took another four days before Winry would even consider giving him his automail arm back, and that was just as painful as he recalled. Rehabilitation—picking things up, holding something without dropping it, being able to support his weight, fine motor functions like drawing and writing—took another week, and it was a painstaking, slow process that drove him up the wall.

Still, the effort and persistence paid off, because soon enough…

"Ah!" Ed sighed, stretching. Finally, after more than two weeks of aching, there was no pain when he tested his joints to their limits, and he realized that for the first time since coming back to Amestris, he felt like himself again. Different, yes, but more like the person he'd been once upon a dream.

Al laughed, grinning at his brother. Over the past two weeks and a half, it had been getting to know each other all over again. Al was still trying to sort through his newly returned memories and get his head straightened out, and Ed was trying desperately to remember the times when he hadn't felt like he was outside looking in. Still, the more time Ed and Al spent together, the more they realized they'd adjusted to being without each other for so long; it was hard to be together all the time. It wasn't that their relationship was any less important to either of them, it was just maturing.

Al knew that Ed was keeping things from him, and he hated that, but he also knew that whatever it was, Brother had a good reason to keep it to himself. He'd spent five years determined to learn anything and everything he could about alchemy, hoping that if he learned enough, he could be with Brother again.

Now he had his brother and his memories back, and if Ed wanted to keep something to himself, then Al wasn't going to push for details.

"You're doing well, Ed," Al said, watching from over his book. Ed grinned and shrugged before letting himself fall forward, catching himself and going straight into push-ups. "Yeah, I guess so," Ed huffed, blowing blond strands out of his eyes. One downside to short hair, he couldn't tie it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face. "At least I'm not falling on my face anymore."

True—when he'd started attempting push-ups, his automail hadn't been able to support him at first. He'd breathed in carpet fibers more often that he'd have liked. He and Al had been going to the park around the corner for a few days for sparring sessions, and Ed was pleased with the way things were going; he hadn't beaten Al yet, but he was holding his own. Another thing that made him happy was the figure Ed had spotted on more than one occasion out of the corner of his eye. It was only brief flashes of a blue uniform and a long dark coat, but that was enough.

"Hey, what are you so happy about?" Al asked, and Ed realized that he'd started smiling unconsciously. He rocked back into a sitting position and looked up at Al. "Whaddya mean?" he asked, pretending he didn't know. Oh, he knew why, and he wasn't the one freaking out about it.

Al gave him a look, and Ed tried to look sheepish; it didn't work. "You know what I mean, Edward," Al said, "what's on your mind? Tell me."

Ed sighed and fell back against the carpet, staring up at the ceiling and the rickety fan turning in lazy, creaking circles above them. He wasn't sure he was ready for this conversation. He could lie, but Al would call him on it this time. Still…he was confused, so confused, and back when they were sifting through mountains of alchemy, trying to decode the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone, talking it out with Al always seemed to make it understandable.

And Lord knows he needed some clarity in his head right now. He sighed again, this time with acceptance, and said, "I need some advice."

He almost groaned at the eager expression on his brother's real, human face. "Oh, really? Who's the lucky guy?" Al had been the only one who'd known Ed hadn't been interested in girls back when they were running all over Amestris looking for leads; Winry had probably suspected, but they'd never actually told her. It wasn't that he'd been hiding it—honestly he hadn't and still didn't care who knew—but it just hadn't been something he advertised. He hadn't thought it mattered; it wasn't like he'd been looking for a boyfriend.

But now…well, now there was someone maybe worth taking a chance on.

XXXXXX

"C'mon, tell me!" Al insisted, plopping down next to Ed and poking him in the side. Ed scowled at him, but it was only half-heartedly. He and Al stared each other down for a few moments before Ed caved. "Alright, alright!" He sighed, bracing himself for the blowback.

Sure, Al had always been open-minded and accepting of damn near everybody, but would the same principles apply when Ed's love interest was a man more than ten years his senior? Then there was the fact that Mustang had been his superior officer for years, and the fact that up until a few months ago, they could barely stand to be in the same city without arguing. Mustang had been their legal guardian after Ed joined the State Alchemists (apparently the military liked to keep things internal), the Flame Alchemist was now the Fuhrer of Amestris and General of the military. The press would have a field day once they got wind of it, and though he was no longer a State Alchemist, he had been once upon a time.

But despite all those reasons, despite everything riding against it, Ed couldn't stop thinking about Roy. He couldn't stop thinking about how easy it was between them, like a puzzle. Not that old cliché about finally finding the last piece, but now the jumbled pieces that had been tossed around his entire life were making sense. He drowned in that dark, knowing eye, wanted to bury his hands in that soft, raven black hair, and fall into Roy's warm, inviting, comfortable embrace and stay there forever. Whenever they were touching, he got the shakes and shivers, and he couldn't think straight. Whenever they were alone, he was walking on air, his heart stuttering in his chest and his adrenaline running high. It was like the best drug ever, and Ed knew that if he let himself become addicted—too late for that, the Voice reminded him—he would never be the same. If they broke up, if Roy broke his heart, or if, God forbid, he hurt Roy, he would never recover. Roy had left his marks on him and no one would ever be able to replace him.

And this was what he told Al, laying there on the carpet amid stacks of books and scattered papers. He closed his eyes as he spoke, letting memories flash before his eyes. The scene in the hospital, Roy's lips pressed against his own in a sweet, chaste kiss; Roy shouting at him in Resembool after the Philosopher's Stone was made in Leore, demanding to know why Ed hadn't trusted him enough to ask him for help before running. The first time he witnessed the Flame Alchemist at work, charcoaling the train jacker in East City; Roy sliding into bed with him and pulling him tight against his chest, murmuring reassurances and holding him until he fell asleep.

He opened his eyes to glower at Al, annoyed that his brother was laughing at him. "It isn't funny," he muttered. "I have no clue what to do next."

Al clapped his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, but even when he managed to stop giggling, his eyes did it for him. "A-Alright!" He cleared his throat. "Alright," he repeated. "What's the problem? You like him, he likes you—" Al paused, studying him. "He does like you too, right?"

Ed growled low in his throat. That was all the answer Al needed, and he hastily pressed on. "So, what's there for you to be confused about. If you both want to be more than friends, try it. See where it goes. Maybe it won't go anywhere; maybe you'll both end up with broken hearts. Or, on the other hand, you might find true love. Honestly," Al said, "you two seem perfect for each other. I'm not at all surprised."

Ed sat up, looking at his brother suspiciously. What, exactly, did he mean by that?

"What do you mean, 'perfect for each other'? Until I vanished into thin air, we hated each other, you know that."

That wasn't entirely true. In retrospect, Ed was seeing his past in a whole new light. He realized that the things that had annoyed him back then weren't as bad as he'd thought. Everything Roy had done—sending them off on seemingly pointless assignments, manipulating them, lying to them and keeping secrets—had been for their own good. For alchemy's sake, Mustang had chased him all the way to Resembool because he wanted to protect and help him, not to punish him and not because the military had ordered him to.

Al grinning and tugged playfully at a chunk of Ed's hair; he'd informed Ed shortly after he'd been able to move around on his own that he liked the short hair—it suited Ed. "You and Roy are made for each other, anyone could see that. What you need in a lover is someone who trusts you and has no problem with you being so independent but would follow you to the end of the world and back. They have to be someone who's gotten around enough to not get jealous of the attention you get, and you need someone you can bicker and argue with who won't take it to heart; you need someone to keep you grounded and who won't let you get away with any shit."

He paused letting that sink in, before saying, "Ed, don't be an idiot. Roy's your guy; he's exactly what you need. Go for it, take a chance, and see what happens. So what if you guys screw things up and end up hating each other? It'll just give you something else to scream about."

Ed sighed and smiled weakly. "Yeah, you're probably right. But…" he trailed off.

But what? This was exactly what Roy had told him to do: think it over and decide if this was what he really wanted. There were a million reasons why getting involved would be a bad idea, but Ed really couldn't make himself give a damn. All he could think of was that he wanted Mustang, wanted him so badly it hurt, and he couldn't imagine life without him. The thought of living with Roy, waking up in his arms, fully exploiting the vast library…being thoroughly debauched by the Flame Alchemist; it sounded like heaven to him, a paradise of their own making. The age difference didn't bother him, nor did the fact they were both men; hell, even back in Germany where homosexuality could be a criminal offense, Alfons had been the worried one. He didn't care that Roy had been his superior officer; he wasn't a State Alchemist anymore, and he wasn't a dog of the military—he'd escaped his leash.

There was nothing stopping him from pursing a relationship with Roy Mustang.

Al nudged him in the leg with his foot, and Ed shook his head, coming back to Earth. "'But' what, Ed?" he prodded, looking at Ed expectantly.

Ed was at a fork in the road, the crossroads. One road led to a relationship with Mustang and possibly/probably heartbreak, the other led to an uncertain future and never knowing what could have been. It was time to choose a path.

Ed nodded and looked his brother in the eyes. "I think I know what to do."

He had a choice to make, so he did.