Me: As much as I feel bad about saying this, the update was difficult. I want this story to be finished – it's my favourite and I enjoy writing it hopefully as much as you enjoyed reading it. But, like I just said, it was hard to get this chapter out. When was this last updated? August? I apologise for the wait, but it really doesn't help when some of you constantly pester me for updates. Up until October, I was only 13. I am currently in the process of choosing my options for GCSE – something which could affect the rest of my life. Some relatives in my family have died recently, and one is currently very ill. I constantly get homework and I'm learning four languages at the moment (which, is my choice, obviously, but still). I simply do not have the time, yet some people still send me PMs moaning at me constantly to get a chapter out. On some of my other fics, I've even got flames calling me a horrible liar and other things and that just make me feel even less motivated. Thank you very much to my kind reviewers/PMers who consider that I actually have a life, a ten-hour school day because of distance and right to be sociable and go out with friends. Ignore this message if you haven't said anything, please, it's not your fault. I'm just putting this out there. I'm not doing replies so I can get this chapter out as soon as possible. Thanks and enjoy the update :)

A New Way to Bleed, Chapter 9: Distortion

Mrs Bradley hung up the phone, a worried sigh escaping from her lips as she sat back down on the sofa again.

Selim felt her arms wrap around his shoulders and he leaned into his mother's embrace, his voice small as her spoke to her.

"Have they found her yet?"

"No, Selim," she replied quietly, "they haven't."

"Oh…OK" the boy couldn't think of anything else to say in reaction as he leaned forward for his second hot chocolate of the morning.

He was still shaking from the night before, a cold, unwelcome feeling settling deep inside him as he once more remembered his dream.

Yes, remembered. He could recall every single second of it, each feeling, each emotion, everything that was physically spoken.

It was already late spring, but the winter hadn't seemed to have left Amestris. That was especially noticeable in the mornings, mostly, when the sun hadn't risen and the air was still chilly from the cold nights.

Every time he closed his eyes to try and block out the dark atmosphere following Elysia's disappearance, the memory of the dream he had was back, playing over and over again in his mind no matter how hard he tried to make it go away.

I've got him, stand clear of the circle, Wrath

He hated that way that had sounded. The voice, his voice, seemed to piece through the air like a knife, the sound reverberating at the back of your mind like a hundred speakers from a poorly tuned-in radio were jammed into your ears. It was distorted and metallic.

Inhuman.

And, what's more, he knew that he was capable of making that voice again. He hadn't tried to yet, but he could sort of feel it, like when you can feel a lump deep down in your throat that you can't quite reach, except Selim was sure he could. He would have to try it when he was alone, see if it really worked.

But, then, if it did work, wouldn't everything else work? Did that mean that everything in his dream actually happened? Did General, or Colonel, Mustang really dissolve into that light? There was that man known as 'Wrath', too – who was he? And those horrible black, snack-like tendrils that made Selim shiver every time he pictured them…

"Do you want breakfast, dear?" his mother's voice cut off his thoughts, "it's about the right time of the morning for it."

The black-haired boy glanced at the clock on the wall. It was seven thirty now, which meant he had been awake for four and a half hours following his dream. And his mother had been by his side all through that time.

He loved her. He truly, honestly did.

"Yes, please," he answered.

Mrs Bradley smiled warmly, her expression so opposite from the cold air around them and stood up, pushing her son gently to the side and laying his head on a cushion. She pulled the blanket that was draped down around his back further up to cover his shoulders.

"There was a time before you were born that ice completely surrounded this city," she told him just before she left, "and the mornings have been cold ever since."

"Really?" he said, "Can you tell me more during breakfast?"

His mother winked, lighting the mood slightly further with a small laugh, "maybe."

And she left the room.

"Maes," someone patted the boy's shoulder, "it's time to get up."

The boy opened his ice-blue eyes to see gold ones peering down at him, still full of sleep.

"Dad?" he murmured after a yawn, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"We need to be at Fuhrer Olivier's mansion in fifteen minutes," Edward said as he turned to head for the dorm's bathroom, "Al's asleep. Don't wake him up 'cause he's not coming."

Maes was still too out of it to be annoyed at his father for giving him only a short time to get ready, so he rubbed his eyes and stood up, stretching his arms.

With a quick glance at his sleeping uncle, Maes reached for his own suitcase and pulled out his clothes for the day. He was visiting the Fuhrer's house, so it obviously had to be formal-looking. But, growing up in the country where it was muddy and dirty, suits weren't usually what one would wear. He didn't have any.

After some thought, the boy selected a black, long sleeved shirt with white accents over a matching tank top. The neck was a little tight, but it wasn't going to choke him.

The only trousers he seemed to have were black leather, which was funny because he remembered packing more, so he slipped them on and tightened the waist with a brown belt. His boots were suddenly slightly a bit small for him, but he was too rushed to care.

"Brother? Have you shrunk?" a startled voice came from behind him and Maes twisted round to see Alphonse sitting up in his bed, a look of confusion on his face as he rubbed his eyes. He must have woken up anyway. The man blinked at him, slowly registering the boy's features.

"Oh, Maes, it's you," a look of realisation spread across his face and he grinned, "you're wearing brother's clothes from when he was your age."

"Am I? But this is my…" he trailed off when he looked down at the suitcase. It was the second one Edward had taken with him.

Maes quickly began to undo the button on the shirt, but the sound of his father's voice stopped him.

"No," Ed stopped him, poking his head through the bathroom door with a toothbrush in his mouth, "keep it on. I wanted to you have it anyway." The blonde man nodded to the open case, "and the gloves too, put them on."

The boy hesitantly did as he was told, still not sure if he liked the outfit or not.

"You know," Al said to him, "if you put your hair into a braid and let more of it loose around your face, you'd be the splitting image of Brother. Except with blue eyes, of course."

Maes did the second part, but he paused when he reached for something to tie up his hair with.

"Uncle Al," he said quietly, "I…I can't do braids."

The man gave a soft smile and pushed himself clumsily out of bed, making his way over to his nephew.

Maes handed him the red band and turned around so his uncle could sort his hair.

"It's easy once you've practiced," Al said, picking up the boy's hair in his hands, "you split it into three and take turns folding the sides into the middle. Watch."

The boy watched in the mirror as his Alphonse slowly formed his hair into a braid, beginning to understand how it worked.

It was strange, he thought, that even though he had only known his uncle for a very short length of time, he felt like he had known him forever.

Soon, Al had finished and took a step back to admire his work. Edward was in the room now, too, a towel around his neck from where he had been drying his face.

"One more thing," his father said as he moved closer to his son.

"Hey, what are you-" Maes began to protest but then he was cut off when Ed used his damp fingers to take a small clump of hair from one of the boy's bangs and smooth it upright, until it stuck in the air.

They stayed there for a moment, Maes flushing red out of a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment while refusing to meet Edward's eyes.

And, all during this short time, a small, wistful smile was visible on Edward's face.

Brother's the only father you're going to get.

When Winry had Maes I was so happy – I knew he would give me a chance to be a better father than Hohenheim. This is the exact opposite of how I dreamed he was supposed to grow up.

Thoughts echoed through Maes' head and he tried to push them away, another burning question in his mind that he felt the need to know.

"Why did you pack this stuff anyway?"

"I needed them for Selim," Ed replied with a shrug, slightly disappointed that that was Maes had asked, "actually, the fact that you're wearing them is even better. You can help."

"How does wearing your old clothes help?" the boy frowned, "and it's not like you had the best sense of style, either. Seriously – leather? It's so… weird."

Ed couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, strangely pleased that his son had gone back to giving him rude remarks. It felt unnatural without them, and, as much as he had liked that quiet moment the two of them (plus Alphonse) had shared, he didn't think it would ever feel right to be like that permanently.

"I'm going to finish getting dressed," the blonde man announced, "and then we're leaving. Maes, be ready."

Maes grunted and tightened 'his' boots, walking over to stand by the door.

Alphonse, a subtle smile etched into his face, plodded back over to his bed without getting out of his pyjamas and sat down, only wishing things could have always been like this.

"Selim," his mother said as she placed her spoon back on the table, "you did this yesterday, too. Please eat, sweetie, it's not healthy to keep starving yourself like this."

The black haired boy was looking down at his toast in a distracted way just like the day before, expect this time for a different reason. His initial thought was that it was because Elysia was missing, but the more he thought, the more he was sure it was something else.

The woman leaned forward with a worried sigh and ran her fingers through his hair, the bottom of her hand brushing his faded birthmark.

Selim used his spoon to draw invisible circles on the table in front of him, and instead of looking up to ask Mrs. Bradley his burning question, he kept his gaze fixed on anything but her eyes.

"Mother…what was Father like? I mean, really like. You never… tell me much."

There was silence for a while and the boy guessed that she opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to work out what to say.

"He was a… kind and caring man," she continued to stroke his head as she spoke, but he noticed that maybe she was becoming the slightest bit for forceful, as if protecting him, "he was brave and always stood up for me."

"So why did he leave you?"

"I don't know, darling. I really don't."

A drop of something landed on the wooden surface in front of him and he looked up, finally letting his purple eyes look into hers.

Mother was crying.

Mother was actually crying.

He blinked, this all being a new experience. Sure, he had seen her cry before – she was an older and frailer women after all who worried for her only son. But these tears seemed to fall with a different kind of sadness, one that was there on more than a single level. It was very sudden too, as if whatever she was sad about was easily provoked.

"Mother… are you OK?"

She sniffed and used her free hand to wipe the tears off her face. "Yes, Selim," and he felt her suddenly pull him into a tight embrace, "I'm OK."

They stayed there for a long moment, their meal completely forgotten as the boy rested his head against her shoulder. He felt horrible for asking what he did – he didn't know that his mysterious father was such a sensitive subject for Mrs Bradley.

After a while, he gently pushed himself away and smiled up at her red face, giving her a small kiss on the cheek afterwards.

"How about we get ready to go to Fuhrer Olivier's house, Mother?"

Mrs Bradley nodded, a small smile on her face.

"But first," Selim put his hands on his hips, "you have to tell me all about the time when the city was surrounded by ice."

"Of course, dear."

Maes stared up in awe at the 'house', his eyes as wide as they could go as he stepped out of the car.

"Um… Dad?"

Edward got out behind him, adjusting the strap on his bag, "what?"

"Is this really a house for one family?"

The man gave a soft chuckle and pressed forward, hardly giving his son any time at all to take in the entrance of the mansion.

"Come on," he seemed to speak with a tiny piece of caution in his voice as they headed towards the door, "let's get this over and done with."

"What do you mean?"

Ed sighed. "I don't exactly... think anyone should really be around Selim."

Even though he'd known that Selim was the boy he and his father were here to see, Maes hadn't really thought about it up until now. A flash of the black-haired child flew across his mind and he remembered how strangely the boy had acted yesterday, almost switching personalities completely. And he was fifteen – older than him. Selim seemed so fragile. Was he really that age? Was there something wrong with his growth? He looked like a nine or ten-year-old child. But, then again, Maes wasn't exactly tall himself, he had inherited that trait from his father. Alphonse had told him that Selim's father was completely non-existent in the boy's childhood. At least Maes had a father, albeit a very poor type of one.

"Why?" Maes ran to catch up with the blonde man, "what's he done?"

Edward frowned as he pressed the doorbell. "Nothing, Maes. That's the problem."

"Nothing? What the hell do you mean by tha-"

"Edward Elric," Maes looked up to see an Ishbalan man looming over him, a polite and formal smile on his face, "it's been years. And you haven't grown much at all. In fact, I'd go as far to say you've shrunk."

The boy took a step back, "uh… well."

"General Miles, I'm Edward Elric."

The Fuhrer's husband blinked for a second at the two of them, comparing the obvious differences in their eye colour and face shape.

"Ah," he said after a while, "apologies for that. Please, come in."

As they stepped inside, a butler reached to take off Maes' red coat, but Edward quickly stopped him. "Sorry, I forgot to mention," he said, "Maes needs to keep this on."

The butler gave a polite nod and set off down the hall with just Edward's jacket.

Olivier was already waiting in one of her meeting rooms for them to arrive and she stood up as they came in, speaking instantly.

"Edward and Maes Elric," she didn't smile and her voice held familiar intimidation, but the thought was there, "I believe we met briefly at my usual restaurant yesterday, but didn't get a chance to speak." The woman picked up a folder from the table beside her and handed it to Maes' father. "Edward. All details that have not been discussed with you via the telephone are written in here. Please pay close attention to what I have written. It's very important that we have no accidents today."

"Of course," Ed was already reading through it as he answered, absorbed in the text. He flicked through the pages at a surprisingly fast speed, but it was clear to Maes that he was making sense of everything. Maes frowned. Why was that Selim boy so important? Were his nightmares an issue so serious that it was something the Fuhrer herself would want to get herself involved in?

As Olivier continued to point out some of the things in the folder to Edward (she had barely even acknowledged the boy's presence so far besides the initial introduction),

It would lead to him finding out about everything…

A small, barely audible gasp escaped his mouth.

Just my leg to remind us what we went through all those years ago…

Al, now that you're really here…

He blinked. Was this all… somehow… linked together?

Olivier stepped in through the door of the fifth conference room with an unreadable expression and headed straight for Selim.

The boy looked up straight away and said nothing, waiting for her to sit down.

"Selim, Edward is almost here," she sat down beside him, "are you ready to see him?"

The black haired boy nodded in determination. Maybe, whoever Edward Elric really was, he could sort out this problem of his – he might have answers. Why bring this man in when he barely knew Selim? He must have some significance. Even after the meeting with him yesterday, he still couldn't really figure him out. But, then, he couldn't really remember much from the day before anyway – his memories were so distorted.

"Fuhrer Olivier?"

"What is it?"

"What is this Edward Elric person… going to do with me?"

The woman paused, thinking. "I'm not too sure about his plans for you, but I have complete trust in him. He's come to fix your problem, Selim. And I'm sure he will."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Are you really sure?"

Olivier nodded, "I've known him ever since he was your age. I can tell what he's like."

There was a polite knock on door and the Fuhrer stood up, walking over and opening it. Selim couldn't see who it was because the door was at an angle, but he could hear the short conversation with ease.

"Ah, Belvedier, is that Edward's jacket?"

"It is, your excellency, he is waiting with his son Maes in the front meeting room."

"Thank you. Please continue your duties."

"Of course."

Olivier only returned to Selim for a second to pick up a folder she had left on the table beside him. "I'll be back with Edward and Maes soon, Selim. Please wait here."

"Yes, Fuhrer Olivier," he called back as she left the room, the door closing with a small click behind her.

The boy remained seated and drummed his fingers on the table, deciding what to do next. Now that he was alone… should he try making that voice? How soundproof were the walls? He was in the fifth, most secret meeting room. Probably very.

He frowned. What was he even supposed to say? 'Hello'? Did he even want to find out if this worked.

He bit his lip before making his decision, feeling rather self-conscious about what he was going to do.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the voice deep down in his throat. And then he spoke.

"I'm looking forward to meeting you again, Edward Elric."

He grinned.