Another Visitor

It wasn't until breakfast time that Ed left his room again to join the others at the table. Marcoh was still sitting at the table in the same seat, but the bottle of medicine had disappeared to be replaced by breakfast. Ed's plate from earlier had also disappeared, and Ed and Al were both seated across from the Doctor—basically, where Ed had sat before. His parents were at the 'head' and 'foot' of the table. Other than greeting the boys, Marcoh seemed fine to just talk with his parents, though he was mostly telling Trisha news from Central which she found fascinating. 'The boys' were more interested in their food than in talking, so didn't start a soft discussion of one of the array points Al had thought of the night before until they'd finished eating.

Once they were done, Al dragged Ed to the library—the mostly blue room with dark shelves and a pale wood floor—and Ed found that his brother had already migrated his journals there, along with several of the library books. Since Al's point required him to reference several of those books he'd put in their usual place on the floor, both of them settled on the floor to shift from book to book while they discussed the validity of the options for 'storing energy' in a way it could be used. Compression was a point, but Ed knew Al had the end result wrong, so informed him it would be more of a liquid than a solid at the levels of compression they needed to use.

He also recalled the day he and Al had translated Marcoh's writings to arrive at the realization that the main 'ingredient' in the Philosopher's Stone was living humans. What kept him from a flashback—and maybe some panic at a review of old Amestrian memories—was the knowledge that they weren't using humans, they were using planetary energy. Randomly, the thought popped into his head that the 'seething' energy he'd felt when his father had held him came from the Philosopher's Stone in him.

Ed also realized Marcoh was at the door to the room, watching them. Listening to them. If he hadn't known the man was truly a healer primarily, he'd have been a lot more worried, and if his and Al's discussion had been more about the 'what' they were doing rather than just how to get the energy to compress, he may even have told the man to leave. No, even now, he didn't think Marcoh was actually a bad man, just one who still didn't realize what their nation really was. Then again, even Teacher had never known the whole of it, not until the end.

Finally, Al decided he wanted a break to go outside and play, so Ed stayed by himself and picked up his incomplete journal—a new one beyond the one with Great Gospel in it—and began writing.

That was also when Marcoh approached, gently lifting one of Ed's journals and asking, "May I?"

Somehow, the question annoyed him, but he reached out to pick up the one he knew was first. "Then start here. And you need to realize that this is knowledge, not something for you to try to claim or manipulate."

The man sighed and said, "Maybe you won't believe me when I say this, but that isn't what I want to do. Your work is your work, and even if you've written it out with clarity even a child could read, that doesn't mean the ideas will be so easy to grasp. I can't even begin to 'claim' something I don't understand, and I have a steep learning curve here. Not just in regards to alchemy, but to the functionality of the planet. Not even your father, who is a far more accomplished alchemist than I, can claim to 'grasp' this, the level of what you've done is so far beyond him."

The admission made the blond boy look up in surprise for a long moment, just eying the man for his sincerity. Finally, he sighed and said, "Then you might want to ask me about things you don't get before moving forward from that book. If it's literally answered in a different journal, I can have you read that journal for it, but not everything gets answered that way. At least, not yet. I'm still working."

Marcoh gave him a small smile and agreed, "I'll do that, then. For now, I'll leave you to work while I find a more comfortable place to sit and read." He then took the journal Ed had offered him and left the room quietly.

Rather than think on it, Ed just sighed, shook his head, and went back to writing. Lately, most of his time had been taken up working on the healing water, so this was a rare moment where he was completely willing and able to write. That being the case, he wasn't going to waste the opportunity by being distracted—he wanted to actually get it all written out. In that regard, having Marcoh ask questions would also help him to know what he would need to add or explain, and he also knew the journals weren't 'light' reading—it would take him awhile to get through it. The only reason Ed could write it faster than someone else could read it was because he was already intimately familiar with the details.

When Al had finished playing outside, the two went back to their own work for awhile, and that time, they were left alone. After supper, they started a bonfire outside between the two fruit trees and moved out there for awhile to enjoy themselves. While Ed was still writing, he could see Marcoh still reading his journal, and was maybe about half-way through. Sitting on a log to write wasn't really very helpful to the action, though—it was more decidedly unhelpful—so he finally just set it aside, especially when it got too dark to see clearly.

Soon after that, Hohenheim sat down beside him, and just sat quietly for a minute. Ed thought he was maybe just trying to get him used to his presence again, but had to scratch that when the man asked, "So, who, or what, has been giving you information?"

"Really?" the boy asked in annoyance with a small huff.

"I've been thinking about it since Marcoh shoved those journal pages in my face while we were in Central," Hohenheim commented. "And I've been watching your behavior, listening to how you talk. I'm completely sure you're my son Edward Elric, but I'm also sure you've met an entity of some sort who may or may not be benevolent. After all, if such an entity could teach me a new way of doing things, there's no reason one couldn't do the same to you. Apparently one capable of mentally aging you by a great margin. And apparently not in a very nice way."

First, Ed froze with the realization that his father knew so much, then also remembered his father had lived through many hundreds of years after meeting the First Homunculus, or 'Father'. He had something far more extensive than any other living person to base his assessment on. In that regard, he was comparable to Kariya in what he could know or assess, but he was also not as forward-thinking or forward-moving as Kariya. Something a person who had lived so long should be doing, he wasn't.

Scuffing his shoe in the dirt, Ed thought about how to answer, and finally said, "I still believe 'Gods' don't exist. But, that doesn't mean planets don't have awareness or sentience, it doesn't mean they can't talk with us, or help us to some degree. Or they could if they weren't trapped under a wall the First Homunculus put there." When Hohenheim's eyes widened and he drew in a sharp breath, Ed knew he had him. "But you know...If you never move forward, if you never stop being a coward running away from things in the world, you also can't fix them."

Ed lifted his gaze to his father's identical, if shocked, gold. "You're a coward. If you actually want real information from me, then teach yourself to move forward, to learn, to disregard what isn't useful anymore and move into things which you've assessed are. Make sure decisions, and stick to them unless you have proof that they need to change. Learn who you are, learn to know yourself, so you can know how you think, and in turn, so you can learn how others think. I was told that by a man who accidentally inherited over three thousand years of memories, and had to learn to do exactly that, just to deal with the influx. He was a strong man I trusted absolutely because he proved that strength, and he also proved he could acknowledge when he'd done something wrong so he could fix it. Be like him, and maybe I can trust you to know more of the truth."

After saying that, Ed rose to join Trisha and Al to roast marshmallows, leaving his father sitting in stunned shock.

FoWD-HC

The next few days passed quietly, for which Ed was thankful. Marcoh, he realized, hadn't just read his first journal once, he'd read it at least three times by the time he approached the boy with questions. Some were simple, or had been answered in other journals. Some were as easy as saying that everything in his journals was based on entire array systems, so the single base array found in the journal intrinsically would rebound or not react if someone tried to use just that for the effect. Others, he found he knew the answer, but made a mental note to include the data, and a couple other questions Ed had to actually pause and think about before answering. The man's questions had been thoughtful and intelligent, so he felt better about letting him have access to the next journal.

Before leaving to read the second book, however, Marcoh asked one more question. "Why aren't you writing any of this in code?"

Blinking, Ed peered at him for a moment before shrugging and replying, "Because eventually, this form of alchemy will become the world's mainstay. If anything happened to me and it was written in code, no one else would have a hope of learning it."

The man smiled at that before leaving, and another few days passed before he returned with more questions. After going through them, once again, Ed released another journal to the man's hands. The process repeated itself until they had caught up to the journals Ed had begun to answer Marcoh's questions in the first place, an admittance which had caused the man an almost giddy joy. Hohenheim never approached Ed in that way again, though because he was there, he seemed to have reverted to at least trying to be a father to him and Al.

But, Ed knew he'd have to leave soon after Marcoh did, and the only question was where he'd go and what he'd do. Something was niggling at his mind, a small thing he maybe should have been paying more attention to, but on the up-side, Aunt Sarah and Uncle Yuri hadn't left for the front lines of the war yet. Maybe they wouldn't, because they knew they were all that was standing between him and the military just then. Or, maybe they would do things differently this time by still going to the war zone, but not the way or for the reasons they had last time.

His ability to discuss things with Ishbala had been very limited, given the strain the wall put on even his blood's communication with the being, so it was really down to getting rid of the wall. That was more true with Al on the verge of creating healing water completely of his own accord, largely just because he wanted it to exist. That had come from Al accidentally seeing their mother as she truly was, much the way Ed had before, and now Al had a certain drive to make the water, realizing their mother's life truly did depend on it. The realization had also made him absolutely certain Ed loved them deeply and wouldn't just 'let' anything happen to them.

But one day, Al and Winry had dragged him out along the riverbank for another game of make-believe (why in the world were they doing so out in the cold when a covering of snow was on the ground?), and had run ahead to play. Ed found he just didn't have the energy that day to pretend to be lions like Al and Winry were doing, so he just said he was going to be the pride Elder who was about to die from old age, and would catch up to them later. Thankfully, that had been good enough for the two.

Usually, walking along the bank was no issue due to it being a slope and a dike to keep the spring flood waters from washing away the town, but in a few sections, the 'slope' was nearly vertical or past floods had under-cut some of the dike. The largely flat space below, between the dike and the water's edge, was also wider in those areas, and the drop was steeper. And he didn't know where all those under-cut areas were, so accidentally stepped on a weakened patch of ground, only for it to fall out from under him.

He yelped as he started falling, but a moment later, he heard a startled shout and landed on someone who fell to the ground on their back. Nearby, someone else was laughing raucously, and the thing which stood out to him the most was the warmth from the person whose chest he lay on.

Looking up slowly, Ed had to blink in surprise for a moment—he was looking at a maybe eighteen-year-old Roy Mustang dressed in civilian warm winter clothes. There was some snow and dirt on his head and shoulders, and one arm held Ed up while the other had broken his fall and was holding him in a not-quite sitting position. "You okay, kid?" Mustang asked, apparently not sure if he should be annoyed or amused.

Something in his expression irked Ed and he stated flatly, "Bastard."

"What the—hey!" Mustang spluttered. Which, of course, set the other man off on another fit of laughter. And Ed was not going to look at that man who was standing beside them, not now that he knew who he was by the sound alone. "Is that the thanks I get for saving you from landing on your head?" Mustang was definitely annoyed then, but nothing at all about how he was holding him changed.

It was strange. Ed should have been a lot more afraid of angering a man he'd always known as powerful and destructive, but somehow, a part of him still trusted the man, even after all this time. It shouldn't have been possible, but ultimately...Just like he'd never had a reason not to trust Cissnei, Doriss, or Sirra, he had never had a reason not to trust Mustang. As such, he somehow knew this younger Roy Mustang wasn't going to hurt him just because he annoyed him. It also occurred to him that he probably shouldn't revert to his old habits, because it was a sure thing Mustang didn't have his military rank yet (he was too young), and Ed didn't even know for sure if he'd joined it yet. He almost hoped not.

"You sure have a way with children, don't you, Roy?" an all-too-familiar, painfully familiar, voice asked in amusement. The voice of another man who was only around eighteen years old then as well. Or nineteen?

"I didn't do anything!" Mustang answered in annoyance. "And you could try being a little more useful, Maes."

Okay, that was painful on too many levels for Ed to ignore, and suddenly found himself clinging to the shocked man as he burst into tears.

"Oh, what now...?" he heard Mustang ask in something like a cross between confusion and alarm.

Yes, he knew he'd confused them, both Mustang and Maes Hughes. For that matter, he'd shocked himself with the strength of the reaction, and his only saving grace was that he was only five years old—he was allowed to randomly burst into tears. But this was the first time he felt his younger soul may have actually influenced his behavior, somehow enhancing the shock and relief at Hughes being alive again to a point where he had to release it. Even in abstract, Hughes' death had been hard for him the first time through, and it was almost as shocking to know he was alive again as it had been to realize his mother and Aunt Sarah and Uncle Yuri were.

He didn't notice it right away because of the sudden influx of emotion, but as he began to calm, he realized a warm coat had been wrapped around him and two strong arms were supporting his weight, keeping him close. Surely he'd have noticed changing hands, so the one holding him so comfortingly...was Mustang?

When he had mostly calmed, but was still crying a bit, Mustang said, "Help me up so we can go back to town. The Inn will have warm food, and they'll probably know who his parents are so they can either come get him or tell us where to take him to."

"That's fair. Okay, then," Hughes agreed, and Ed felt the shifts of the other man helping Mustang to his feet. After that, silence fell again as they walked.

Somehow, he felt more comfortable being carried by Mustang than he did by his own father (then again, no Stone, but was that really all?). He'd been tired all day anyway, so after crying, he found he just didn't care to move if the man was willing to carry him. It also reinforced his trust in the man in a way he wasn't actually expecting—especially after having called him a bastard just from seeing him. For that, the man had at least earned an apology.

"Sorry..." he mumbled, not even opening his eyes.

"What was that?" Mustang asked, really sounding puzzled.

With a faint smile, the blond repeated a little more loudly, "Sorry. For calling you names."

There was a short pause, then a small, amused huff. "It's all right. Apology accepted. You've obviously had a rough day, so just rest."

Ed just gave a nod against the man's collarbone, where it was mostly also hidden by the coat that had been thrown around his shoulders to add extra warmth. Wait, whose coat was that? He hadn't looked around before—had Hughes been carrying a spare? Or was one of them just doing without one? (1)

Then he thought to ask himself why they were there at all. The first time Mustang had come to Resembool had been when Ed was eleven and had just put Al in the suit of armor, and as far as he knew, the man had never had a reason to come sooner. As much as he was glad someone had broken his fall, it wasn't really dangerous, even if he'd broken bones—they'd just have healed in a few minutes and he could have gone on his way. He didn't even think the fall was far enough for that. And there was still no reason for him to have come, regardless of where he had or hadn't turned up.

A door opened and warmth curled around him, followed shortly by the coat being removed from him and the Innkeeper's wife asking in alarm, "Goodness! What happened?"

"Sorry, we were walking below the dike when part of it broke above us and this boy fell down," Mustang answered, and Ed sleepily blinked open his eyes. Yes, he was sure they were in the Inn. That was good enough, so he then closed his eyes again. "Could we get something warm for him to eat, and maybe if you could get in touch with his parents...?"

"I can," the woman agreed. "Sit. That's little Edward Elric, who lives next to the doctor's office here. They're a little towards the edge of town, and Trisha takes such good care of the two boys. He must have gone off on his own, poor dear. I'll get some warm soup, and while he's eating, I'll give her a call."

As Mustang was about to put Ed down, as he felt the man's heat starting to shift away from him, he made a small sound of protest, which resulted in a pause before the man sighed and just sat down, still holding Ed.

That also produced chuckles from Hughes, who commented, "It looks like he's gotten attached to you."

"Do children really do that? Just randomly get attached to strangers?" Mustang asked, sounding lost. It made Ed smile faintly in something almost like amusement. Yes, children most certainly did do that—he'd seen it from Shelke and Yufi often enough, and some other random children. Of course, in his case, he wasn't really getting attached to a 'stranger', though from Mustang's perspective, that would still be true.

"Why wouldn't they?" Hughes asked curiously. "Children haven't learned yet to be suspicious of everyone, and sometimes, all it takes is a kind word or a sign of patience and caring. I guess, by what he did when he first saw you, he may have been hurt before and was testing you. When you didn't hurt him or toss him aside, stayed gentle, he decided you weren't like someone, or others, he had met before, so formed an attachment. Though admittedly, part of it is probably also the warmth of another person when it's cold out."

"It's not cold in here, though," Mustang pointed out, but he sounded thoughtful.

"That's the 'attachment' part," Hughes replied in amusement.

Meanwhile, Ed wondered about that, himself. While he had trusted Mustang, he had never been 'attached' to him, and they had actually spent a lot of time at loggerheads. The 'bursting into tears' part had been fully in regards to Hughes, but all the rest of it had been a somehow both typical and atypical reaction to Mustang. About testing him, in a way, it probably was that—he still wasn't sure what he thought of his father being back, and after having been abandoned by him (as a child's mind saw it), he had never been quick to form bonds like those with other men. Rude and Kariya most often took a more fatherly role, though in Kariya's case, he thought that was more due to habit from having children of his own. Before them, it would have been Hughes.

Mustang had never been a father figure to him, but that may also have been because he'd been eleven and prepping to join the military. Why would he effectively allocate him that way now?

"You're not setting him in another seat?" the Innkeeper's wife asked in surprise as she came back to the table.

"He apparently didn't want to go," Hughes replied, tone still amused.

"Oh my," the woman commented. "Will you be able to feed him if he's being so inactive?"

"I can try..." Mustang answered, sounding apprehensive. "I've never had to feed someone else before, and he really does look like he's just going to stay at the edge of sleep, doesn't he?"

"It might make it easier if you can turn him around, either to the side or right around so his back is against you," Hughes offered.

The thought of moving, even to eat, just annoyed him, so he made an unhappy sound which resulted in three sighs. But then he also now had to ask himself why he was so tired today. There was no reason for it—there wasn't even something about the date to trigger something like a flashback.

"...Maybe I should be calling Doctor Rockbell instead of his mother..." the Innkeeper's wife mused.

"Why's that?" Hughes asked. "I'm not seeing anything especially alarming in his behavior, and children do sometimes go through phases like this, don't they?"

"Yes, but—little Edward has never really been one to do things like that, and it wasn't all that long ago that he spent months at the Doctor's because he was sick. It's probably better to be safe than sorry with an unusual behavior. Also, the Doctors are his honorary Aunt and Uncle, and they're his Godparents, so it isn't as though they aren't go-to people if the boys need something," the woman explained.

There was a pause from the two younger men before Mustang agreed, "You do what you think is best, then. We don't have any set schedule or anyplace we need to be, so we can wait."

"Thank you, dears," the woman agreed. "If Edward isn't ready to eat yet, you two may as well go ahead, and worry about trying to get food into him whenever he feels like moving enough to let you. I'll go make the call."

Both men just ate quietly, Mustang keeping one arm around Ed as he did, and for his part, the blond boy just didn't feel like moving. When he thought about being hungry, he really wasn't, though he wasn't sure he needed to be yet, either. Rather, sleep was the all-important thing. In a way, it felt like he'd cast a Materia spell and hadn't ended the casting, meaning it was draining him without pause, and because he definitely hadn't been casting Materia spells lately, that also couldn't be the reason. Otherwise, extending a casting due to the wall or to Jenova's influence may create a similar effect, but not so extensive that he just stayed in sleep mode.

In fact, the only thing he could think of which was comparable was when he'd touched the stagnant Mako and had been left with the negative emotions of the Planet which had been weighing him down...

Notes:

(1) Perspective in this section is more important than usual, mostly because it's Ed's perspective and he's doing a good job of being unaware of his surroundings right now. Usually, I'd angle more towards the third person omniscient, so the surroundings would still be described, regardless of whether or not Ed could see them. In this case (and others which will come up later), Ed's thoughts were more important to the flow than the surroundings' description.