Please don't hate me, Gone. I promise it'll go back to Whump in the next chapter.

Really, it will.

I really should work on my OG story, but so many people have shown this story so much love I'mm'a go ahead and write the next chapter so we can get into that Whumpy and sciencey goodness.

Then I will write the next few chapters of my OG story.

I will.

Really.

I think.

He woke up six hours later to cold ham and eggs and lukewarm juice.

There was a note on the tray.

Didn't want to wake you. You need your sleep. Let me know if you need anything.

— M.

He knew he ought to be worried, or at the very least guilty, but the only feeling he could really make out was a weird kind of freshness. He felt a bit like he had just stepped out of a hot shower: clean and raw and scrubbed smooth.

The ham was sweet and the eggs were rich, even if they weren't warm. The juice sent sparks flashing in his brain, the sugar and the water igniting some engine inside him, making the colors brighter and the sunlight softer.

There was a painting of a flower-filled meadow on the wall. Had it always been there?

The squares of the quilt on the bed held differently colored birds: red and blue and black and daffodil yellow. Had the lady - what was her name? Maxine - made this herself?

He cleaned himself up and went downstairs.

Maxine was offering coffee and tea to the two visitors in the sitting room. When she saw Edward, she seemed surprised, then worried, then relieved once she took the time to look him up and down and saw the way he was standing rather than slumping, how his eyes were searching rather than drooping.

Ed took a breath, he thought to ask if he could have some of what was in that metal carafe.

His voice caught in his throat, realizing he had no right to ask any more of her.

She took his hand and led him to the soft chair next to the dark fireplace. She left the carafe on the glass table, coming back with a porcelain mug and bowls of sugar and cream.

It was the best coffee he'd ever had.

XXX

"Did you see Old Man McCartney's crop from the hothouse?"

A whistle.

"How couldn't I? I've only ever seen grapes that fat down near the desert."

"Fat and sweet. Won't make the best wine, but will definitely make some good jam."

Edward was on his third helping of coffee. The two he'd already had were warm and heavy in his belly.

"Wonder what he did differently this time."

"Couldn't be the green. No need in a hothouse. Besides, it's winter."

"He got the soil from his fields. Don't know that he did anything different. Might've just been luck."

Edward didn't know anything about grapes. He didn't know who this "Old Man McCartney" was.

And yet, he found himself interested in this conversation he had no part in.

"Y'know, that's probably it."

"What?"

"The old soil. Grapes are pretty backwards fruits. They like bad dirt. The looser and drier, the better. That's why they do so well in the desert. No rocks or salts to turn the juice sour. Just enough water and just the right metals, and you've got the perfect crop."

A grunt.

"Sweetest crop. If you need something to go with your strawberries, then sure, but wine is supposed to make your face pucker."

"What about sweet wine?"

"Sweet wine ain't wine. It's aged juice."

Edward thought about pointing out that, by definition, all wine was "aged juice."

Instead, he thought of something else.

"No rocks?"

The two men looked up from their coffee and pie, confused at first and then putting on soft smiles when they saw the boy watching them with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Yeah. It's the rocks that give them their taste."

"But it also sucks out all the moisture. All those earthy bits will give you nothing but raisins."

"Size isn't as important as quality."

"Your wife would know all about that."

The man who had said that laughed while the man he had said it to gave him a playful slap to the ear.

Edward didn't know and he didn't care.

"Sand is rocks, though. Tiny, crushed up rocks."

The man who had slapped his friend made a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Elemental rocks. Those ones that health people are always on about, that are supposed to make spinach green, or somethin'. They give wine that nice steely bite. Not that you would know anything about that, son."

"Minerals."

Edward breathed the word like it was a prayer.

Both men looked at him with confusion again, exchanging perplexed glances with each other.

"Yeah. Those rocks."

"Minerals. Metals. Like zinc."

The men nodded, beginning to look concerned.

"Uh huh."

Edward stood up and started pacing, bringing his metal fingers to his face. The coffee was fully in his system now, setting his muscles humming and his mind racing.

"But I tried all those. They weren't there - well, they were there, but not enough to make anything. Unless… they weren't supposed to be there."

Edward was too busy thinking to notice how the men were waving over the stewardess.

"There were just trace amounts in each one, but there were a lot of them. There are probably even more. But if it's not them, then it has to be something that's there with them."

There was a hand on his shoulder.

"Sweetie? Are you all right?"

Edward ignored her and pointed imperiously at the two men who had forgotten about their coffee and pie.

"You said the grapes grew in a hothouse."

The man who had been slapped nodded nervously.

"Yeah. It's winter. Grapes are meant to grow in the summer."

"But he used the soil from his fields."

"Yeah."

"So whatever he used in the summer for that crop would also be in the soil in the hothouse."

Another, more nervous nod.

"That's where the logic goes."

"But it's winter. So if it wasn't there anymore, he wouldn't have noticed. So what did he use in the summer that he's not using now?"

"That'd be the green."

Edward knew what green was.

Even if his parents hadn't been farmers themselves, growing up in a farming town had made him familiar with a farmer's calendar and tools of the trade. Green came in cans and the people of Risembool ordered wagon loads of it during the spring and summer, when crops were planted grown. The liquid mixture of copper sulfate and arsenic was sprayed onto the budding crops to keep insects, particularly locusts and beetles, from eating the vegetables meant for human consumption. When the rains came, the pesticide would be washed off the plants and into the soil, requiring the farmers to add a new coat of spray once the clouds had moved on.

There was no reason that the farmers of Vanes Balt would do any different.

Edward had already tested for sulfur and copper but he hadn't thought to test for the third ingredient.

The men and Maxine cried out in alarm when he punched himself in the head with his metal hand.

"Oh my God, I am an idiot!"

XXX

There was no iron, lead, or magnesium in the soil.

There was absolutely no zinc.

There was also a distinct lack of something that, naturally, should not have been there in the first place, but was supposed to be there in terms of practicality.

Old Man McCartney had no idea what Edward babbled on about as the boy kept sticking his fingers in his grape boxes and pulling them back out again, but he smiled and nodded and listened politely, then gave Edward some sweet, fat grapes on his way out.

Ed all but inhaled them and licked wiped the sticky juice off his chin (they really were sweet) and ran to City Hall.

He found the door locked.

Too excited to care, he ran around the side of the building to the window of the conference room.

Window Guy was standing there predictably, staring out through the alchemy-marked glass at nothing. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when Edward suddenly blocked his view of the street, gesturing frantically for him to lift the pane.

He did so, though not for Ed's sake.

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Edward threw himself at the now open window, forcing Window Guy to stumble backwards in his haste to get out of the way, and scrambled up and over the sill. Ed landed on the wooden floor with a crack and grunt and half crawled, half sprinted to the table.

Edward snatched up one of the counterfeit coins and clapped his hands together, the coin between his palms.

When he opened his hands, the coin had folded in on itself, turning from a disc into a ball.

Edward cackled maniacally and sent his new marble rolling across the table with a flick of his fingers.

He leapt to the other side of the table and caught the marble before it rolled onto the floor and turned on Chair Guy, the crackling triumph in his eyes making the man recoil into his chair like he thought Ed might explode.

"Where's Colonel Holland?!"

Chair Guy swallowed and glanced between Ed and the floor and walls, as if he couldn't stand to see Ed exhibit anything akin to happiness.

"He's… he's not here today."

Some of the excitement in Edward's eyes dimmed and he snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Figures," he mumbled, then tucked the marble into his pocket and made his way out of the conference room. Chair Guy made as if to stand and then stopped, seemingly deciding that the act of getting off his rump would cost too much effort.

"Hey! Where're you going?"

Edward glanced backwards at him but didn't stop walking.

"I'm gonna go have some pie. Let me know if Holland shows up."

XXX

Edward woke up at half past six and came downstairs at a quarter to seven.

Maxine was surprised but not displeased to see him up early and wasted no time in making him some fried potatoes and bacon, with a bunch of sweet grapes to go with it.

She gave him a full carafe of coffee. Ed managed to stop himself after he had drunk half of it.

Running on a full stomach wasn't generally considered a good idea, so Ed managed to keep himself at a brisk walk. Even so, he reached the city hall ten minutes before eight.

Edward was surprised but not displeased to see Colonel Holland in the conference room, apparently holding conference with Chair Guy while Window Guy, as always, watched from his corner.

His pleasure decreased slightly when he saw what kind of conference they were holding.

Chair Guy was speaking softly but his eyes and the swiftness with which his face moved gave away the nature of his words. Ed noticed the way he stood on the tips of his feet so that he loomed over Colonel Holland. Holland himself looked like he was trying to look like he was not cowering within Chair Guy's shadow while simultaneously doing just that. He nodded along to whatever Chair Guy was saying while his eyes frequently flitted between Chair Guy and Window Guy, like he was afraid that if he kept his eyes of Window Guy for too long then the second lieutenant might try to stab him.

When he caught sight of Edward mid-flit, his face morphed into a bizarre kind of mixture of trepidation and relief.

Edward jogged up to him before he had a chance to speak first.

"I've found out what the coins - the fake ones - are made of and where they're coming from."

Without waiting for a reply, Ed reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin-turned-marble and shoved into Holland's fidgeting hands.

"It's arsenic. The forgers are getting it from the crop fields outside of town."

Holland squealed like Window Guy had stabbed him and barely stopped himself from throwing the marble across the room.

"Arsenic?! Like the poison?!"

"It's only toxic if you eat it or breathe it in. When it's all solid like this, it's harmless. It's also the leftovers from the green - I mean, the pesticides - the farmers use on their crops. It's mostly perfect because, since farmers don't really want the arsenic in the ground and they're not really using it this time of year, anyway, nobody noticed."

"Then how did you figure it out?" Window Guy asked. Edward was too proud of himself to notice the way the man's voice shook.

Ed smirked and chuckled to himself, crossing his arms as he bathed in his well-deserved appreciation.

"That's why it's only almost perfect. Y'see, it's hard - like, really hard - to get just one element by itself. When the forgers pulled the arsenic out of the ground, they also pulled out little bits of other elements - iron and lead and magnesium, stuff like that - and the farmers do want that in the soil. Unless you're a grape farmer, because a lack of minerals makes grapes sour, which makes them good for wine. Without them, the grapes turn out all juicy and sweet - just like Old Man McCartney's!"

Edward waited for his overdue congratulations, maybe even a pat on the back, or even the simple acknowledgement of having Colonel Holland issue orders based on his findings.

Instead, he was rewarded with silence.

Ed looked up to see Chair Guy staring at him in what looked bizarrely like disgusted horror. Window Guy's face had paled to the color of paper. Colonel Holland looked like Edward had just suggested that he take one of the counterfeit coins and swallow it.

Edward shoved down his disappointment and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

"So… so we gotta go check who'd been hangin' around the fields to find out who's been makin' the forgeries and we've gotta go lookin' for any fake coins we missed, so that there aren't any… money problems… from the forgeries."

The expression on Colonel Holland's face had shifted from frighteningly impressed to something closer to mournful. As it did, Window Guy's pallor lightened from a healthy pink to a smarmy flush and Chair Guy's face twisted from horrified to nothing short of sinister, his eyes glinting with the malice of a coiled snake.

Holland glanced between them, Chair Guy's sneer pulling tighter and Window Guy's confidence strengthening to the point that he moved away from his corner and joined Holland's side opposite of Chair Guy.

Holland closed his eyes and sighed.

When he opened them, the contents had Edward taking a step back.

"You did not have leave to forego reporting in yesterday."

Edward felt his tongue swell in his mouth.

"I… I was sick. Maxine - I mean, the hostel lady, she said she told you -"

"I've already said that I don't tolerate excuses."

Ed's voice caught in his throat and he fell silent.

Window Guy's confidence evolved into righteous meliority. Chair Guy's sinisterness had bloomed into what Edward could only describe as exultation.

"You did not have leave to not report in," Holland started again. "You have not saluted anyone since you did decide to arrive and you have tampered with evidence vital to the investigation."

"It's - But it's one of the fake coins. It's not real. You said -"

"Shut up, crip, or I'll shut you up," Window Guy snarled, pushing Holland aside so that Edward was standing in front and below him and was forced to look up while he looked down. "You're betters are talking."

Edward felt the antidote of anger restore his voice even as his vision blurred with fury.

"I'm not a cripple."

"I said, shut up -"

Whether or not Window Guy actually meant to grab for him or if he was just trying to frighten him didn't matter to Edward's instincts, but it was the final ram that broke the floodgates holding back the anger and the embarrassment and the fear he did not want to admit was there that Edward had kept shoving deeper and deeper inside himself. Now that it was free, his instincts saw danger and Edward's instincts had learned what to do with danger on Yock Island and from his lessons with Teacher.

Edward caught the arm Window Guy slashed at him, turned on his heel, and used his body as a fulcrum and the man's own weight as momentum as he threw the second lieutenant into the wall.

Window Guy's head cracked against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster, and he slid in stunned silence onto the floor in a ruffled heap.

Edward stared at what he had done, horror bubbling up alongside realization, and he turned to Holland to see the colonel staring at him just the same.

Then Chair Guy started laughing.

Window Guy joined in soon after, still slumped against the dented wall.

It was a terrible, cackling sound.

It grew ten times worse when Colonel Holland placed Edward in detention for assaulting a fellow officer.

XXX

Edward did not protest as his hands were locked into a pillory and he himself was locked into a storeroom.

He knew it wouldn't do any good. Besides, he was too busy trying to keep his breakfast down.

The room was less of a room and more of a linoleum box.

There were no windows and only one door. The space was lit by a single uncovered bulb that got its electricity from a snaking trail of wiring bolted to the vinyl concrete. Rather than paint or pictures, the walls were lined with tools of various use, from what looked like spare farming equipment to cleaning supplies.

Edward stared at the drain in the middle of the floor, breathing raggedly and concentrating on not puking bacon and grapes into it.

Focusing on his body was easier than facing the horrible thoughts swirling through his mind.

He was going to be discharged for this.

If the incident was investigated, there was a chance Alphonse - or the emptiness in the armor where Alphonse was supposed to be - would be found out. Al would be sent to a laboratory and he would be tested and tortured until there was nothing left of him to take apart.

Edward's life would be over, either through a prison sentence or an execution.

He didn't need to think about whether he would rather die publicly and painfully or live in a dark cell knowing his brother was dead.

He just hoped it was firing squad. That way, it would be over quickly, if not cleanly.

When the door opened, he was still staring at the drain and fighting back nausea. Colonel Holland stepped in, second lieutenants Schaffer and Hanes following after him, and closed the door.

For a few moments, they did nothing but look at each other and listen to the buzzing of the bulb's wires.

"My officers and I have… discussed your transgression. We have come to the conclusion that the appropriate response would be to have you court-martialed for attacking a comrade. This would likely end with you being stripped of your title and authority as a State Alchemist."

Edward swallowed his stomach down as it tried to jump out through his mouth.

"However," Holland said the word slowly and paused significantly after before continuing, "given your… circumstances, we have also come to the conclusion that the consequences of doing so would be far more severe than you simply being unemployed. This is besides the possible ways that your commanding officer might respond to such a mark on both yours and his records."

Edward hadn't thought about how Mustang might react to this.

The colonel would probably have several aneurysms.

"So, we have decided to offer you a plea bargain. We will see to the consequences of your breach of conduct, here and now, so that there is no need for what has happened today to be officially documented. In exchange, you will submit to the discipline of myself and my colleagues, without question and without trying to lessen the severity of your punishment by making any defense you might think you have.

"We will deal with this and it will be over and then you will return to East City and Colonel Mustang will not hear about your behavior here. Am I understood?"

Edward took a shuddering breath, released it just as shakily, and raised both his hands in an awkward, face-smothering salute.

"Yes, sir."

XXX

Holland had left the room after Edward had accepted his offer.

He wanted to be surprised, or at least insulted by the man's unwillingness to supervise what he had ordered, but Edward was not surprised and, honestly, this was probably easier without Holland watching the procedure, whatever it was going to be.

Window Guy studied him, head slightly tilted, as Chair Guy made his way to the back of the room behind Edward to presumably fetch an implement of some sort.

Edward tried really hard not to think about that.

"Y'know, when I was a brat, my dad didn't take no shit from me. If I was a snot, he beat the snot outta me. Made me tough. Made me a man."

Something clattered and Chair Guy swore.

Ed forced himself not to look behind himself.

"Can't say I blame your old man for skipping out on you. Only half a brat makes only half a man. But half's better than nothin'."

Something snapped.

Edward jumped and Window Guy sneered.

"Military ain't got no place for brats. You wanna make it here, you gotta pull on your boots and put Teddy in the toy box. You're cute, though - all broken and worthless and small."

Edward gritted his teeth at the last word and barely managed to stop himself from growling.

"Probably why Mustang's let you get as far as you've gotten. He's got a soft spot for the cute ones. But cute only gets you so much."

Edward yipped when something cold and sharp touched his neck. It was followed by a gasp of indignation as the blade cut through his uniform - or rather, Holland's uniform - and the ruined overcoat and shirt beneath was pushed forward by rough hands so that they slid down to Ed's captured wrists and hung there uselessly. Ed's skin pebbled as the winter chill that had soaked through the walls touched his bare back and arm.

Chair Guy made a disgusted sound.

"Fuckin' freak."

"Y'know what happened to the last person that pushed Mustang's buttons?"

Window Guy glanced around, as if checking to make sure that this bit of juicy gossip wasn't heard by the wrong ears.

"He roasted 'im. Melted the guy's skin clean off. Poor bastard was in the hospital for a year. When he finally got out, he was so damn ugly they put 'im down in the archives 'cause no one could stand to look at 'im. Don't believe me, you can go down and see for yourself the next time you're in East City."

Edward didn't want to believe him. He wanted to argue that Colonel Mustang would never do something like that.

But this wasn't the first time he'd heard rumors about those who were unfortunate enough to be Mustang's enemies and Edward had seen the way Roy sometimes looked at lower subordinates and how they looked at him in turn - like he was a predator poised to pounce and they had to decide if it would be better to run or bare their necks and make it faster.

Edward had assumed it was because of the man's reputation. He hadn't considered what that reputation might be.

"So. You gonna take it like a man? Or do you wanna bet how long before that sweet face of yours gets cooked off your head?"

Chair Guy snickered and there was another snapping sound.

"Or half a man?"

Edward knew what was about to happen.

He'd heard about floggings, about how soldiers would be whipped as punishment for the worst possible crimes or to be made an example of for their comrades. He'd never been belted, but he knew boys who were, and while Teacher had never switched him, she had taught him that pain was often a consequence of poor judgement.

But Edward was familiar with pain. It had been his bedside companion for a year as metal had been welded to his bones and his nerves had been braided into wires.

Besides, it was all nothing compared to what Alphonse suffered every moment.

The realization that this would be his alternative to losing his watch filled him with an ironic relief, calming his stomach and stopping his shaking.

Edward took a deep breath and puffed out his bare chest, setting his jaw and settling his gaze on some point past Window Guy's ratty smirk.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of the man's teeth as his brutish jocularity was augmented by pride that Edward wondered was supposed to be for him.

"'Atta boy."

A whistling sound was the only warning he was given before Edward felt his body break.

Would anyone be interested in a completely unnecessary parental dragon/werewolf/Beauty and the Beast AU?

Nope?

What about a sci-fi horror AU?

I can write more than biology lesson plans and shameless Whump.

Really.

I think.