KEYnote: This chapter is a vision from Maes's POV but Ed is witnessing it.

P.S. This is my favourite chapter in the entire story, if you are waiting on a chapter to comment, this is the one I care most about :D

Chapter 24 - Little Alchemist

"We meet again, Little Alchemist."

Ed rolled his eyes, "Right, free souls, Pride human."

Truth cocked his head, "It didn't work out well for you last time."

"I didn't intend for him to die, but the souls in the stone still deserve to be free."

"So you are willing to pay the price, even if it buys you nothing?"

"I'm not buying something for myself, I'm giving them back some dignity."

Truth laughed, "Very well, my Little Alchemist. I hope you enjoy the price you pay."

Ed sighed as he let the shadow hands pull him into the Gate, when he next opened his eyes, he knew he was in Ishval.

It didn't take him long after that to find his father.

Maes Hughes wore white over his dusty military blues, leaning over a map as he called out coordinates.

Ed watched him quietly, watched Maes turn off parts of himself to let his analytical mind handle the statistical information and translate it into strategy.

Maes was far from being the only one doing this, but he was one of the best, and on his orders, the alchemists moved.

The world burned around them and Ed watched parts of Maes's soul flake away as if he were the one being pulled through the Gate.

But there was no Truth here, no alchemy of souls, just war.

War in all its horrific glory.

When the war ended, Maes was allowed to go home.

He had no apartment waiting for him, and he couldn't bring himself to contact Gracia. He would have to go back to the East anyway, and when he returned then it would be with Roy and the others.

Right now, he was just being given leave to see his family, a place to rest as all the beds in the East were occupied by those far less able bodied than Maes.

He got a hotel room, dingy and cheap.

When it started raining, that night, he went out for a walk.

It had been a long time, too long, since he had seen storm clouds as opposed to smoke clouds, too long since he had felt rain on his face as opposed to wind blown sands. Sand that scratched at exposed skin as if God were trying to rub them out of the world.

Tonight was cold, bitterly so, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

No, he welcomed the cold. Welcomed any sensation that could distract him from the aching chasm inside his chest, from the wanton destruction he had been a part of.

For Gracia, he would bury it all and go on living.

Tonight he walked with the silenced and the damned.

These shadows would always be with him. He gave himself to mourn the man he had been and for the man he would have to become.

He wasn't naive enough to think Ishval was the first nor would it be the last tragedy he would be a part of.

So, he walked, he walked until he couldn't feel his toes in his boots, walked until the street lights came on and all sensible folk found shelter for the night.

Maes Hughes walked the streets alone.

He didn't know what stopped him.

Perhaps it was a flash of gold that caught in the lamplight. Even soaked, it was an unusual hair colour, unlike the white-blonde and yellows he was used to seeing.

No, the little person curled up in an alley had hair the colour of spun gold.

Maes stared at him for a moment, then was shot through with fear.

A hundred images of children dead or alone in the streets of Ishval filled his mind's eye.

He had been under orders not to help them, but there were no superiors to tell him no, to tell him he couldn't help this child.

Please God, just let him be alive, and I will do everything in my power to see him safe.

For the first time, Maes wished he had an umbrella as he approached the small child.

"Son, are you alright?" he asked over the sound of the rain as he crouched near but not too near.

The boy looked up slowly.

Alive.

But his eyes…

There was no light in them. He looked less well than some of the orphans he had seen in Ishval.

There was no fear in those amber eyes, no recognition…

No hope.

The boy couldn't be much older than nine. He was deathly pale and he looked at Maes as if he was seeing through him.

"Hey, hey," Maes coaxed. "It's alright. Did you get lost? Where are your parents?"

Something sparked in the child's expression but just as quickly as it appeared, it died, and the boy looked away, hugging himself tighter. At the small motion, he let out a low whimper.

"Are you hurt?" Maes asked, looking for an injury. It was dark, but he thought he saw dark splotches around his collar. "Stay here and I'll get an ambulance." There was a phone booth not far away.

He stood, then froze when a hand grabbed his coat.

He looked down at the small face twisted by fear and determination. The hand that held his hem glinted in the light.

Automail.

Horror filled Maes, a million thoughts at once swimming in his mind. This boy was too young for automail. The surgery had to be performed without painkillers to keep the nerves intact and correctly aligned.

Had he been forced into it by his parents? Had someone experimented on him?

He also realised that the rain must have been killing the child. He had heard plenty of amputees that were haunted by the barometric pressure of the rain.

The boy pulled on Maes's coat and shook his head.

Maes frowned, had the boy heard his unspoken questions? And then he realized the boy was asking, wordlessly, that he not call for an ambulance.

Maybe he was on the run.

A fierce protective anger filled Maes; not on his watch. Whatever this child thought he had to run from, when he was clearly hurting this much, meant whoever had been looking after him hadn't deserved him.

Maes knelt again, careful to keep his movements slow. "Alright, I won't call an ambulance. But I can't leave you here, do you understand?"

The boy stared at him, and now that the light was hitting his face directly, Maes saw that his eyes weren't amber-brown, but gold, like his hair, a true gold.

Eventually, the boy nodded.

Maes let out a short breath at the small victory and nearly smiled as the rain lightened up a bit, "My name is Maes Hughes."

The boy stared at him, his arm beginning to rattle as he shiver in the cold.

"Do you have a name?"

The child just stared at him.

"Okay, that's alright," Maes babbled, slipping out of his coat. It was soaked through but he had to do something. "May I?"

When the boy didn't protest, he draped it around the boy's shoulders.

"We need to get somewhere warm," Maes sighed. "Or you're going to die of hypothermia."

Maes was greatly disturbed when the boy didn't seem in the least perturbed by the statement. It seemed too much to hope that the boy hadn't understood him.

"Can you walk?"

The boy stared, then looked down at his legs curled beneath him. He shook his head.

Maes nodded, "Can I lift you up?" He was growing more worried by the moment. Maes's coat was white and stains were appearing on the waterlogged material.

The surgery must have been fresh.

The boy stilled then nodded.

Gently, Maes reached out, placing a hand lower on the boy's back, avoiding the shoulder and even more carefully reached under the boy's legs.

The boy gasped, a mere escape of air.

Maes froze, it wasn't a scream or cry, but it was a sound of pain, one that soldiers made when men of lesser conviction or bullheadedness would be wailing to the heavens.

But the child curled into Maes's chest and he hugged the boy to him as he stood fluidly.

For the size of him, the boy was heavy, and he made low half-heard whimpers every few steps Maes took back to his hotel. He was glad he had been circling rather than walking far out, so it wasn't long before they were indoors and in his heated hotel room.

"We need to get you warmed up," Maes said, and because he knew this could be invasive but not knowing an alternative to keep him safe, he added, "You are going to let me help you or I will call the hospital, alright?"

The boy nodded.

Maes went to the bathroom, he filled the tub up halfway with lukewarm water. He didn't know how long the boy had been outside but if he went from freezing to hot, that would be its own kind of pain. For the same reason, he didn't put any soap in the water, not knowing how to treat automail related injuries.

It wasn't until he was helping the child undress he understood how much pain the boy was truly in, why he was heavier than he should have been, and why he hadn't been able to walk.

His foot was automail too.

Maes hesitated, "We need to get these pants off, I can cut them if you like?"

Some light had returned to the boy's golden eyes and he was watching Maes as if he had never seen another human being before.

The child raised his hands, bringing his palms together, metal to flesh.

Maes fell back on his ass when blue transmutation light sparked around the boy's arms. The boy dropped his hands to his lap, and his pants morphed into length of cloth, leaving him in just his briefs.

"Holy fuck," Maes breathed. "You're an alchemist?"

An alchemist who didn't need a fucking transmutation circle?

God, Roy would be so jealous.

Maes was distracted by his thoughts, however, when he saw the Little Alchemist's leg. It was automail up to his midthigh.

And their was dried blood and not so dried blood around the port. Taking in a sharp breath, Maes got back to helping the boy undress, before lifting him and carrying him into the bathroom.

The shoulder was oozing blood in spots, around the collarbone where screws had been drilled through it and around his lower attachment points, clearly where there was less muscle and stores of fat that would have healed faster than the bone.

Maes sort of hated whoever had done this to him.

"How many months has it been since you had the surgery done?" Maes asked. "Just hold up some fingers for me."

The boy held up four fingers with his flesh hand.

"Months? Four months?" Maes asked in horror, knowing that for two limbs, four years was closer to expectation.

But the Little Alchemist nodded.

Maes let out a long breath, "Alright, I'm going to make a call— Not the hospital," he said. "But I don't know how to treat these kinds of injuries. Trust me, please. Are you hungry?"

The boy shook his head, which was good because he didn't have any food in the suite.

"I'll be right back," Maes said, leaving the door open he went back to the main room and picked up the hotel phone to call the front desk. "This is Major Maes Hughes, could you put me through to Dr. Knox? I don't know what room he's in but I know he checked into this hotel."

He was put on a brief hold.

—What do you want?

"I need medical assistance."

—I'm not cleaning up a botched suicide so you can keep your dignity, Hughes. Call the hospital.

Maes sighed, "Your bedside manner is impressively dismal."

—I'm a coroner, you stupid motherfucker.

"I'm not calling for me, I found a child who doesn't want to go the hospital."

—Boohoo. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a paycheck to drink.

Maes took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Knox was a bastard, but he hadn't hung up. "It's his automail ports. He isn't really talking but he indicated it's only been four months since the surgery."

Knox was silent for a moment, —Which limbs?

"His right arm at the shoulder and his left leg at mid-thigh. The leg looks bad. He can't walk on it."

—So take him to his mechanic.

"He's a young boy, Knox. Nine or younger. He's hurt."

—Automail isn't cheap.

"Knox."

—Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. You do anything for the injuries yet?

"I got him in a bath. I didn't put anything in the water. I don't know how long he was out in the rain."

Knox sighed into the receiver, —I'll get him some magnesium sulfate bath salts, to stave off any bacteria infections. Automail bleeds. Unless he's gushing blood he'll be fine. Don't let him walk on it and I'll get him so fresh bandages and some antibiotics. What's your room number?

Maes gave it with a grateful, "Thanks, Doc."

—Fuck you, Maes Hughes, Knox responded and hung up the phone.

Maes sighed returning the ear piece to the receiver and went to the little kitchenette for water and to get the kettle going.

He went back to the Little Alchemist, water in hand. "How you holding up, little one?"

The child frowned at him.

Maes sighed, "Could you drink a bit for me?"

The child nodded and Maes steaded his the boy's hand as he drank.

"Slow," Maes coaxed but let him drink the glass. Putting it aside he asked, "You ready for some warmer water?"

Another nod and Maes turned on the faucet again, his hand in the water to check the temperature.

The child let out a long sigh as he sunk into the slightly pink tinged water.

A half an hour later Knox arrived.

"Little one, this is my friend, Doctor Knox."

Knox glared down at the boy, "I'm a military coroner."

The boy was completely unphased and just stared the doctor down as if he wasn't a small child in briefs, floating in a tub, but a man on his feet looking down his nose at Knox.

It was hard not to laugh at the image.

Knox smiled despite himself and held out a bag then poured salt into the tub.

The boy flinched at first but then reached out to stir the salt into the water, lowering his shoulders so that the automail was completely submerged.

"Soak for another forty minutes," Knox said. "Then you'll have to shower thoroughly to not let the salt sit in the steel." He grabbed a fresh towel and shoved it at Maes. "Let's go, Major. I'm not coming back to treat you for a cold."

Maes looked at the boy who hadn't told he was military. But the child seemed unperturbed as he watched them quietly.

Maes left at Knox's urging, the doctor called over his shoulder to the child as he had closed the door, "Scream or throw something if you need anything, kid."

Maes pulled out some fresh clothes for himself as Knox began to set the bed up for his patient.

"So?" Maes asked.

Knox sighed, "I've seen younger, but it's wrong to do automail surgery on a child that young. The kid will need at least one port replacement in his life, and that's if he's lucky."

"Port replacement?" Maes asked, getting the idea but not the significance.

"How would you like bone surgery without fucking anstia? Boy is going to have all that taken out some day because the metal won't keep up his growth, unless he's a midget. Sp they are going to have to rebolt new ports through the bone. It's torture."

Maes felt sick.

"It's high quality though," Knox said. "I can't place his age, could be eight, could be ten. You should sign him into a hospital and put him on suicide watch."

Maes jerked and hissed, "What?"

Knox shrugged, "Pain makes people do desperate things. God knows how he lost the limbs to begin with or how he survived this long."

Maes shook his head, "I'll take care of him."

"For how long?"

"For as long as he needs," Maes snapped.

Knox raised a brow, the light glinting of his glasses, "He isn't a stray kitten."

"He needs someone."

"And you think he needs someone like you? Mustang might love you, Hughes, but I see you for what you are. You might not have been the flame but you were one of the architects behind the Ishvalan extermination. Why the fuck do you think you and I got time off, or why you're getting a bloody promotion? You might not have been the ones to set fire to the living, your hands might not have been literally covered in blood." Knox held up his own shaking hands. "But blood was spilled in accordance to your military brilliance." He spat the last word as if they were a curse and not praise. "We're monsters."

Maes stared at him, "Why are you in a hotel, Knox?"

Knox looked away, "She left me and took my son with her."

"I'm sorry."

Knox sighed, "You don't even know his name."

Maes shook his head, "Doesn't matter, as long as he will accept my help, as long as he needs—"

"Don't be naive, it's you who needs this. You were a good man once and you think you can make amends by helping a perfect stranger."

Maes fisted his hands, "So what, I'm a selfish bastard. A monster, a dog of war, I don't fucking care. That child needs someone."

"And your pretty friance?"

"I haven't asked—"

"But you will. And you think she'll be okay adopting a rich boy of dubious origin?"

Maes wasn't sure he had enough sleep for this conversation, he opened his mouth to say, what? He'd choose a boy he just met over the woman of his dreams?

"And what about Mustang? You know he's going to be in rough shape when he's released. You think he'll be okay with you adopting a freeloading—"

"Shut your mouth," Maes growled.

"You aren't prepared to be a father, Hughes. You're in no condition to take care of yourself and if that boy's parents are as wealthy as that metal indicates, you'll be arrested for kidnapping."

Maes was hardly listening as his mind kicked into over drive.

Knox was his friend, not a particularly close or good friend, but a friend nonetheless.

If this was his response, what would Roy say?

What would Roy say if he learned the boy could do alchemy without an array?

Fuck.

There was more going on here.

"I'll look for his family," Maes said in a low tone. "But I won't force him back."

Knox was quiet for a long moment before he said, "Fine. Throw yourself away. That boy will use you then leave you out to dry, but fuck it, that's probably a fate deserving for someone like us."

"I'm sorry," Maes apologized again for Knox's family leaving him.

"Don't bother changing yet, go help the kid stand so he can shower without concussing himself."

Maes did as instructed and the child held his hand trustingly as the hot water sprayed over the his back. He wondered if the child had heard their discussion and if so, how much.

He actually fell asleep as Knox wrapped up his arm.

"Keep it clean and he'll be fine. The surgery was well done, at least. Four months bedrest, two years is ideal. But if he endured this kind of pain to get around, I doubt he'll sit that long. If he needs to go out take him in a wheelchair."

Maes hadn't been planning to sleep that night any way and stayed up through the night leaning against the wall. A part of him expected the child to disappear.

Not that it was really possible for him to go anywhere, the boy couldn't walk not with the way Knox had wrapped him up.

Maes ordered room service when the boy woke late the next morning.

"Knox said you wouldn't be hungry because of the storm, but the rain passed, please eat."

The child stared at him impassively.

"It's not poisoned," Maes promised.

The child's eyes widened slightly at the idea.

Maes panicked slightly, "I swear. Here I'll prove it." And he took the bowl back and took a spoon full.

The golden eyed child continued to look dubious and so he ate more. It wasn't until he finished half the bowl did the child finally look convinced.

The Little Alchemist continued to doubt the safety of the food like that for three days, before Maes realised he had been played.

By 'proving' the food wasn't poisoned, he had ensured Maes ate every meal as well.

it was kind of embarrassing it took him three days to figure that out. Maes made sure to order two meals after this realization.

The kid always waited for Maes to eat first.

Maes took a bite of his sandwich, the Little Alchemist took a bite of his sandwich.

Maes rolled his eyes internally at himself, figures, he would try helping a kid out and it would be the child who was taking care of him.

"I need to go out today," Maes said. "I need to pick up my parade uniform and some clothing that doesn't have holes. I figured I could pick you up some things too."

The Little Alchemist shook his head, keeping his gaze down.

Maes didn't want to mention he was picking up a wheelchair. "I'm going to regardless," Maes said a tad awkwardly.

He was twenty-two, what the hell did he know about caring for a child?

But Maes's parents had been old. Mr. And Mrs. Hughes was a love story for the ages, perfect, save for the child they were never able to have. But his mother had gotten pregnant when she was nearing fifty.

His parents had been so happy but it had been hard on his mother. She had gotten sick when Maes was in primary school and his father, who had been a miner, also fell ill. Maes knew how to take care of people, and having lost his parents within days of each, neither able to live without the other, he knew what grief could do to a person.

Maes placed a pen and paper next to the boy, "If there is anything you or need, please let me know. I'll be back in a few hours. If you need help," he tapped the number at the top of the paper. "Knox is still here. Just call the number and tap three times on the receiver."

The boy nodded but didn't write down any requests. With trepidation, Maes left. The whole time he worried about how bored the boy must be, sitting alone with nothing to do.

It prompted Maes to stop at a bookstore. He had no clue what he might enjoy.

Remembering he was an alchemist, therefore a nerd like Roy, Maes peeked at some chemistry books. He found one on the stability points of various chemicals and compounds at different temperatures. It was complicated as hell but Maes figured if he could vaguely follow the first chapter —absolute zero, solid, liquid, gas— it was at least a decent reference book even if the theories proved less than stellar in the later chapters.

He then picked a purely theory book on alchemy. Tchaikovsky's name was one he had seen on Riza and Roy's bookshelves.

Before the war, Roy and his crush, Riza Hawkeye, the pair often complained about chemists and alchemists fluffing their theories to be more impressive than their reality.

Maes also picked up a copy of his favourite childhood story, a fiction novel about a female archaeologist encountering mummies in the Xerxes ruins who meets an exiled Xing Prince who slays said mummies on horseback.

In the display case, Maes saw a small folded chess board made of cherry wood, and feeling like he had quite enough in his bank account to handle it, bought that as well.

Predictably, the Little Alchemist wasn't pleased when Maes came back into the room rolling in a wheelchair.

"I won't have to leave you behind now," Maes defended.

The boy's expression softened a bit at that. Maes approached the bed and found that the golden child had found something to occupy him. He had used the pad and pen to draw arrays and formulas.

Maes couldn't read any of it but knew enough that none of the symbols had anything to do with fire or demolition.

Maes sat on the side of the bed, "I got you these."

A metal hand accepted the three books, his golden eyes brightening on the chemistry books and Maes knew he had chosen well when the boy opened them to the index and read each chapter title.

The fiction book seemed like a bit of a miss, as the boy frowned and grew more confused after reading the first page when he realized there was no index.

When he moved on to the chess board, he looked up at Maes.

"Do you play?"

One shoulder shrug, which either meant he was willing but didn't know how to play or he did know how to play but didn't play it with anyone often or ever.

"We can play if you want. Though, I must admit I won't let you win."

Another spark. The Little Alchemist gathered his notes —his arrays that were at Roy's level of complexity— and carefully laid the two books on the side table.

Smiling, Maes set up the chess board. Which is when he really got to know the boy.

He was brilliant, competitive, and Maes cared about him with every fibre of his existence.

After the third round, some five hours later, Maes had almost lost a few times. But chess was tactics, and genius or no, Maes had more experience.

The Little Alchemist wasn't put out by this as he looked at the board as if it could spill Maes's secrets.

"What's your name?" Maes asked. He had been careful not to ask too many questions, he didn't want to scare him off or make him think that he wasn't welcome to stay.

"Ed," the Little Alchemist answered.

Maes gaped, so surprised to hear him finally speak after a week of silence, he repeated, "Ed?"

He, Ed, nodded.

"I'm Maes."

Ed blinked then turned his head, obscuring a barely there smile.

Right, he already knows my name. Maes felt giddy. Ed was intelligent, and if he could speak, it meant he could consent to help.

"Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?" Maes asked.

Ed looked uncomfortable.

Maes laid a hand over Ed's metal one, "If you weren't here, I'd probably be eating leftover ration bars and exploring the bottom of a bottle. Please, Ed, don't feel guilty."

Golden eyes stared at him before Ed nodded and began putting the chessboard away.

Maes sprang to his feet to grab the wheelchair.

Ed didn't protest as Maes helped him into the chair and it was a victory.

The next day Maes got a call from Roy.

—How's Gracia?

Maes bit back a sigh, he had spoken to Gracia over the phone but he hadn't seen her yet.

"She's good. When are you coming home?"

—I'm not.

"Excuse me?"

—I've been reassigned to East City.

"Hawkeye?"

—Same. You'll be pleased to know she hasn't left me alone.

"Good," Maes said.

Roy grunted, —And Central?

"Returning East for my promotion, but otherwise good."

—You sound good. Gracia really happy to see you then?

Maes glanced at Ed, feeling slightly guilty about lying, "Yeah, I think things are going to work out."

—What, no details?

Knox's words came back to Maes. He wasn't sure if he could handle Roy calling him selfish for wanting to adopt a child he hardly knew, he didn't want Roy to shove it in his face that Gracia might turn him down because she wouldn't want to adopt a near teenager with such apparent trauma, mental and physical.

Maes knew he was doing this for selfish reasons, that he needed to help Ed more than the child likely needed it.

Probably.

—Maes?

"Sorry, sorry. I haven't been sleeping well," he said truthfully, however, he was sleeping more than he had expected to.

Roy sighed, —That I understand. Rest up, my friend, I will see you in two weeks.

"You too," Maes said, guilt thick on the back of his tongue as he hung up, choking on words unspoken.

But he wouldn't let even Roy talk him out of this, he was adopting Ed, and for however long he needed shelter, Maes would provide it.

Every time Ed tensed during a conversation, every time Ed grew wary out of fear that Maes would send him away or try pawning him off to shadows of his past, Maes grew more determined.

Ed was not a child who had run for benign reasons, whatever his reasons were, they were valid enough to be respected. Trusting himself and years of specialist intelligence, Maes's conviction grew every day and every hour.

But it wasn't until Maes took Ed apartment hunting that the boy seemed to understand that Maes was earnest in his assertions that he had a home with Maes if he wanted one.

In the end, they settled on an apartment in an older part of town, reasonably priced, it was next to a cute cafe, the public library, and not too far from Maes's office in Central. Everything was within walking distance.

It was a few days after Maes had gotten his things from storage from before the war, and moved in fully that he was able to sleep deeply in his new bed.

And with deep sleep, came the nightmares.

Maes woke with a choked scream, lashing out he, reached for his gun on the bedside table and would have fired, but for the metal blocking the trigger.

Panting, Maes blinked into the darkened room.

The clicking of the cartridge falling out brought Maes to the present as bullets scattered on the bed.

In horror, Maes realized what he had almost done, "Ed, I'm so sorry—"

"Drink," the Little Alchemist commanded, handing him a glass of water.

Maes let go of the revolver and Ed put the gun aside but kept the glass outstretched to him.

After a few ragged breathes, Maes thought that maybe Knox was right, maybe he wasn't capable of taking care of a child.

I almost shot him.

However, far from afraid, Ed gathered the bullets back up and reloaded the gun, turned the safety on and laid it back on the side table.

Maes downed the water, "Thank you."

"Are you alright?" Ed asked.

Maes didn't know what to say to that, "Probably."

"Was it about the war?"

Maes flinched, "Yes."

Ed sat down on the bed and laid his real hand over Maes's hand, "It's okay."

Maes shook his head, "You don't understand."

"You killed people," Ed said bluntly. "Who didn't deserve to be killed."

Maes closed his hand around Ed's and tears fell down his cheeks as he shut his eyes, "I'm sorry."

Ed squeezed his hand, "Why did you join the military?"

Maes had to calm his breathing before he could answer. "I wanted to be a part of change, a part of making our country better than it is."

"With or without you, people still would have died, and not everyone would be sorry," Ed said. It wasn't really an obsoletion or a condemnation.

It was just… fact. Things he had told Roy in the past.

"Thank you," Maes said.

"Thank you, Maes Hughes," Ed said seriously.

Maes looked at the small golden child, "For what?"

"For saving me, without you, I would have let myself die."

Maes gently pulled Ed into a hug, "The both of us are going to be alright, alright?"

Ed hugged him back, "Thank you."

When the week ended and Maes had to board the train to return East, he didn't want to go, and he bought a ticket to return home the same night.

Maes was happy to see Roy, and more happy to see that Riza had been keeping the Flame Alchemist from falling apart. After the ceremony, Maes held back on drinking as Havoc, Breda, Armstrong, Riza, and Roy toasted to their promotions, more than once.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Breda asked.

"He has a woman in Central waiting for him," Armstrong answered.

Riza sipped her beer, "You have a train to catch tonight, right?"

Maes nodded, pulling himself from his melancholy thoughts, "Right. I don't want to get sick on the cars."

Riza sighed, "I wish we could join you. I could do with a break from the heat."

"East City is damn near chilly compared to the desert," Havoc said with false cheer.

"Speaking of Central," Roy pressed. "How is Gracia?"

"She's good," Maes said. "We have a date for next week."

"Are you going to ask her?" Riza asked.

Maes shook his head, "I haven't bought the ring yet."

"You haven't?" Roy, Riza, Armstrong, Havoc, Breda, and Fulman asked.

"No?" Maes said, unable to stop the flush creeping up his cheeks.

Roy leaned over to put a hand to his forhead, "Are you okay?"

Maes pushed him away, "Yes, I'm fine."

They all stared at him.

Armstrong whispered, "Did she turn you down?"

"He'd be inconsolable if that happened," Riza said dryly.

Maes rolled his eyes. "I'm just getting settled," he said, thinking of any excuse he could use that didn't include adopting a kid off the streets when he was supposed to be getting engaged. "I nearly fired my gun at the door last week."

At said adopted child, he thought morosely.

Silence fell.

Roy squeezed his shoulder, "It will pass."

Maes nodded. "Anyway, Colonel, what's your first course of action to the next star?"

The rest of the evening passed without anyone pushing him further and Maes was able to return before the sun rose the next day.

He found Ed twisted on the bed having a night terror of his own. Maes ran to wake him up and earned himself a metal punch to the eye.

"I'm so sorry," Ed babbled over and over again.

After Maes had dug out an old pair of glasses and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, he plopped himself down on Ed's bed, "Tell me about it."

"About what?" Ed asked, looking nervous and guilty. Though he snagged and alchemically fixed the pair of glasses Maes had discarded.

"The dream," Maes said gently. "You don't have to but you helped me the other night so…"

Ed bit his lip, "Um, it's kind of hard to explain."

"Whatever you want to share, I'll listen."

Ed swallowed hard, ducking his head he said, "The nightmare starts with a dream, the world opening up— like a book brought to life. Or more like an entire library brought into a knowable being. And then, instead of information unfolding, it's me being taken apart by these shadows and I have no control and I— I lose everything."

It was the most Ed had every said to Maes and none of it made any sense to him, but he saw Ed's fear, and he saw how deeply afraid he truly was of it.

Maes ruffled his hair, "I promise the libraries here are safe, what's more, if there are any alchemy books you want to rent out from the state branch libraries, I can get you some."

Ed's worry from the dream completely desolved at the promise of books, books noteably that Maes didn't have to pay for, just borrow.

"Really!?"

Maes grinned, "Of course. You can come to work with me tomorrow if you like. We can get an early start, hit the library and then you'll have something to do in my office. I don't have a full staff yet so there will be some empty desks for you to station yourself at."

Ed blinked, "You'll let me go to work with you?"

"Of course," Maes said. "You can stay with me as long as you like. Whatever your past is, it doesn't matter to me, I swear to keep you safe."

Ed blinked, "Why?"

Maes smiled, "Because no one should have to face this world alone."

Ed hugged him, "Thank you."

Maes hugged him back, "Thank you, Edward."

Ed stiffened.

Maes pulled back, "Sorry, Ed, Edward was just a guess."

Ed shook his head, "It's fine, I just… never mind. I don't mind being called Edward. My full name is Edward Elric."

"How old are you?" Maes asked.

"Eleven," Ed said, sitting tense.

"I'll be twenty three soon, my parents died back when I was in high school."

Ed remained tense and when Maes didn't ask more questions, he accused, "You're not going to ask me about my automail?"

"Not unless you want me to," Maes said. "And even if I did, you don't have to answer anything you don't want to."

"I don't," Ed said.

"That's fine. But I do want to ask if you would like to be enrolled in school?"

Ed scrunched his nose.

"Not a fan?"

"Theoretically, but in practice, school is boring. They don't teach anything I can't learn in a single afternoon."

Maes shrugged, "I was top of my class in the academy, I bet there are some subjects I could help you with to supplement what you're already studying."

Ed grinned at him.

It was a beginning.

A beautiful beginning.

Ed followed Maes everywhere, his little golden shadow.

He endeared himself to Gracia easily, running half way across the city one night when Maes forgot the flowers he had bought for the date.

Ed was everything a man could have possibly dreamed of in a son.

In a friend.

Maes was thankful every day for him.

And he was so proud of the boy who became a young man who devoted himself to helping others.

So how did it come to this?

Maes had always known that when Ed joined the military that he might not be chasing his own future but a self-inflicted punishment for the sins he felt made him undeserving of happiness.

Maes sat alone in Ed's room sitting at the bedside holding picture of them together when it had just been them against the world.

Ed had been so small then.

His Little Alchemist.

Tears spilled down his cheeks.

Just because he had known it would end, didn't make the farewells any easier.

He would give so much for his son to return home to them.

To see him smile again.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, whooping cranes, or feedback, pretty please?