Desert Gold

They were children of the open skies and sun-gold sands, of the rolling hills and fields of grain. They were enigmas, and they were paradoxes, contradictions of opposites that no one would ever think could coexist.

They were children of Ishvala and a people long since lost to time, golden-eyed with sun-dark skin and hair so pale it was nearly white.

Oh, it must simply be a tan, neighbors would say as they were growing up. You know how those boys are; always running around outside. That much time out in the sun does make one's skin darken rather quickly, you know.

Resembool, small as it was, had one of the tightest-knit communities in that region of Amestris. Its people protected their own, regardless of race or history or war. They knew Trisha Elric as Hohenheim's wife, as a wonderfully kind and helpful member of the community. Later on, her children were known as boisterous, extremely intelligent young boys. Troublemakers, occasionally, but no more than any other child their age.

You must be hearing things, the Elrics' neighbor told her visiting friend. This was back when the brothers were still too young to fully understand why their native tongue could only be spoken at home, safely behind closed doors. A hidden thing to be kept close, one of many that would soon take refuge within them. They're kids with very vivid imaginations. You remember how my own daughters used to talk to each other in their made-up languages, right?

Despite the relatively sheltered atmosphere of Resembool, the Elrics grew up on warnings and secrets, always told to never reveal who they are. However, they never experienced the effects of that prejudice or hatred for themselves. Their fellow townspeople protected them, claimed the pale of their hair was because it was sun-bleached and the reason Trisha hardly ever went out into town anymore was because she was too busy. As such, they were in for a bit of a shock when they finally left Resembool, and were finally exposed to the reality of their world.

They adjusted, of course. They quickly learned to put on masks, to hide themselves like actors on a stage. They were Edward and Alphonse, sons of the house of Elric, alchemists in training, and they weren't going to let anything stop them. Especially not something stupid like racism; not when their goal was so important.

After all, what kind of sons would they be, if they couldn't even endure that much to bring back their mother?

Of course, it was just when they thought that everything was going to be fine that it all went horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

Power raged, far too large for their underground basement, screeching in fury as it stormed around the room. Al screamed, flesh disintegrated– then it was only Ed, heart hammering in his chest with lines of blood drawn wet and desperate onto his own skin, leg a bloody stump but that wasn't important because Al's gone no no no I have to get him back-!

White. Blankness. Gates. The Truth. Steel armor shuddered, a red glow flickering in empty eye sockets. Blood was everywhere, dripping from twin stumps and pooling beneath the horrifying mess of organs, flesh, and bone that was supposed to be Mom (except it didn't work, they failed her and she's never coming back they only made things worse no Mom why).

Pain.

Years later, Ed and Al wandered the streets of East City, relaxing after a difficult mission. It was a dead end, again, but they did at least manage to put down a particularly nasty gang of drug dealers, so it wasn't a complete bust. Ed was put on medical leave for a week so that he could heal, even though he considered his injuries all superficial. Really, he suspected that Hawkeye made the doctors do it on purpose so that he would take time off. He and Al had been running back-to-back missions for nearly a month, and even though he would never admit it, the constant wear had begun to take its toll.

It rankled, though, and even though only a couple days had passed Ed was already champing at the bit to get back in action. The fact that he was stuck looking through books that he'd already looked through a hundred times already was one factor, but it wasn't the biggest.

No, the biggest factor was definitely the fact that this meant they'd have to spend a week in relatively close proximity to the Hawk's Eye and the Flame Alchemist, two people that Ed honestly wished he could hate more than he did. Wished he could hate more, because for all that they turned his people into corpses and ashes and scorched outlines on the walls… they actually weren't as cruel or evil as he had sort of expected.

True, Ed and his commanding officer always argued and clashed, but he never got the sense that Mustang was malicious about it or anything. Most of the time, it sounded more like the man was arguing for the sake of arguing, or even because he wanted to procrastinate more on his paperwork. Annoyed, for sure, but never quite as mean as he could have been.

It's not like he discouraged their hunt for the Philosopher's Stone, either, despite how open they were about the fact that they were essentially just using the military for its connections. If anything, he even helped them, giving out leads and pointing out new avenues of research they might not have explored yet. Although it never turned up anything concrete, it was still better than nothing.

Hawkeye was… well, Ed didn't want to say indifferent, because she was far from it, but– distant. She tended to act more as Mustang's keeper, most of the time, always reminding him to do his work and keeping him up to date on important topics. He looked to her first, always, and it hadn't escaped the Elrics how they always seemed to gravitate towards each other. Where one went, the other followed, and they shared a certain type of bond that neither of the brothers had seen extended to the rest of the office.

In relation to Ed and Al, however, the Lieutenant did try to look after them in her own way. Nothing like Maes, who tried to drag them over to dinner at every opportunity so Gracia could stuff them with food, but little things. Letting them know of a distant rumor that might be important, giving them warnings on the current situation of wherever they're going, occasionally arranging for them to take forced leave like the one they were on at the moment so that they didn't burn out. Little things.

"I'm bored," Ed pronounced, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they wandered down another street. "Let's go do something, Al. Let's go do anything. Seriously. I'd even take another cult if it means we get to get out of here."

"Brother," Al sighed, exasperated. "Relax. Let's just take this opportunity to have some downtime, okay? You know we can't leave until you're cleared for duty anyway."

"Screw that; I'm bored," Ed grumbled, and he knew he sounded like a little kid but at that point he really didn't care. He let his eyes drift to the dark opening of an alleyway, sandwiched between a drugstore and an apartment building. There was a boy there, quite a few years younger than he and Al. His red eyes were wide with awe, and Ed could see the tattered scrap of paper he had clutched within his hand.

Oh, good. Something was happening, it seemed like. Al saw the boy too, the sight causing a barely perceptible shift in his demeanor that only Ed would notice.

"C'mon, Al. Let's go back," Ed said, nodding slightly in the boy's direction. The boy's eyes widened further at the signal, before he nodded back and turned to vanish farther down the alley. Ed went in the opposite direction, heading for another alleyway that he claimed for the benefit of anyone eavesdropping was "a shortcut". It didn't take long, however, for the twisting corridors of bricks and concrete to circle back around to where they needed to go.

"Hello there," Al said when they found the boy, the Ishvalan language as easy to speak for the Elrics as Amestrian. "You have a message for us?"

The boy nodded, holding out the paper like an offering. Ed stepped forward to take it, tossing the boy a few coins. Ed and Al read it together, though Al had to lean over Ed's shoulder to properly make out the cramped scrawl.

The main camp, as soon as possible, the note said. Alchemist problem.

…Ah. No wonder they had been contacted, then. Ed grinned, crumpling up the note as he stuffed it into his pocket. It would be destroyed later, but for the moment, they had a job to do.

"C'mon, Al!" he all but cheered, turning on his heel to stride down the alley. "Let's go bust some heads!"

"Brother!" Al protested, armor clanking as he hurried to follow. The messenger had long since disappeared to some other dark corner of the city, having enough sense to stay well clear of the open streets. "You're still recovering; you shouldn't push yourself!"

"I'm fine," Ed insisted. "Don't worry. Whoever they are, they can't be stronger than us two together. We can take 'em."

Al sighed again, but didn't protest. Truth be told, he'd been getting a little bored too.

After the idiot alchemist who'd tried to terrorize a camp full of homeless refugees was taken care of, the Elric brothers spent the next couple of hours entertaining a bunch of kids. Not what they'd expected to spend their evening doing, perhaps, but it was surprisingly fun. The kids themselves were a range between toddlers only a few years old and preteens nearly the same age as them. Several took great pleasure in constantly reminding Ed that even though most of them were younger, several of them were already the same height or even taller than him.

Ed… was not pleased with this.

"Ha!" Ed crowed in triumph, crouched atop a transmuted pillar so high that his hair brushed against the ceiling. "Who's short now, huh?"

The kids shrieked with laughter, one of them clambering up to perch on Al's shoulders in an attempt to match Ed. He was surefooted and nimble as a mountain goat, balancing easily atop the gaps between the armor's shoulder spikes. Following his example, the other kids swarmed up the armor and situated themselves on whatever clear space they could reach. Within minutes Al was just about covered with children, his arms held straight out from his sides to provide more surface area for them to perch on and swing from.

Unlike many others, the Ishvalan children held no fear of Al. Once they realized the teenager beneath that menacing suit of armor was really a huge softie at heart, it was as if all their previous misgivings and nervousness had never existed. It didn't hurt that he always had time to give them a few coins or play a little, his infinite physical energy coming in handy when rambunctious children were involved.

Ed, still the tallest person in the room, sat back on his heels and laughed at Al's child-covered state. Just for fun, he clapped his hands and transmuted a funny caricature of the scene onto the pillar. The kids burst into laughter when they caught sight of it, some of them almost falling right off their perches. Al was forced to use some tricky footwork so that he could keep his balance without upsetting any of them from their seats.

This was the scene that the children's parents found when they walked in. Ed, cackling from the top of a pillar that certainly hadn't been there before. Al, covered in their kids and dramatically pleading with Ed to rescue him. The kids themselves shrieking with great enthusiasm, loud and deafening and utterly thrilled.

"Zahir, Imad," one of them greeted, using the brothers' Ishvalan names as she reached up to pluck her daughter from Al's outstretched arm. "Thank you for watching them."

"It was our pleasure," Al assured her. The other parents surrounded him, collecting their children like farmers harvesting a fruit tree.

Ed, understanding that playtime was over, deconstructed his pillar in a rumble of shifting stone and crackling energy.

(It wasn't difficult to subtly reinforce the building's foundation at the same time, making the refugees' home just a little bit stronger. He would have done more than that if he could, but if someone noticed that Ishvalans were living in anything better than the slums, people might have gotten suspicious. So. Unobtrusive, unseen things instead.)

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" one of the parents offered before he left. "I'm afraid we don't have much, but anything to repay you…"

"Oh, no. We wouldn't want to impose," Al gracefully declined. "To be honest, we probably have to get going anyways. The military might start to get worried if we disappear on them for too long."

"Ah." The parent made a noise of understanding. "Perhaps some other time, then."

"Perhaps some other time," Al agreed.

Ed, after sending a couple more flickers of alchemical energy across the room (nobody's going to notice if those cracks just quietly seal themselves up, right?) ambled over to walk up beside Al. Following the parents out the door, they veered left while the parents turned right and made their way back out to the main street. Ed glanced at the cafes that they passed with a considering eye, mentally counting out the money in his pocket. Even if they weren't eating with the other Ishvalans it was still dinnertime, and Ed was getting hungry.

"C'mon, Al. Let's see if that sandwich shop is still open."

"Brother, that's on the other side of the city! And it's already getting dark!"

"Then we'll just have to move fast, eh?"

"Brother…"

At first, the rumors of a scar-faced killer hunting down State Alchemists didn't really worry them. They were the Elric brothers, after all, and they had better things to do than keep tabs on every Ishvalan with a grudge. Like taking down a false prophet and freeing a desert town from his lies, for example.

"I'm going to be picking sand out of my joints for weeks," Al bemoaned afterwards. Every time he moved, his armor made a gritty crunch-griiind sound that was almost as bad as nails on a chalkboard.

Ed, in the process of cleaning the stuff from his own metal limbs, grumbled in annoyed concurrence.

Except then Nina happened and it turned out that Shou Tucker was even more twisted than they ever could have dreamed and in the end–

They couldn't save her.

Utterly wrapped up in his own self-loathing, Ed didn't even notice the stranger walk up until the man was right in front of him. It took a moment for the man's appearance to compute in his sluggish mind, though, and by the time he put together X-shaped scar on his face with dark skin and white hair it was very nearly too late. Only Al's quick reflexes saved him, and even then it was far too close of a call.

(Above, the clock tower's bells rang out in echoing knells, booming tones low and foreboding.

One… two… three… four…

And in Xingese, four meant death.)

"The Scar-Faced Killer?! Since when was he in town?!" Ed yelped as they ran for it, dashing down the stairs to the plaza below as fast as he was able. The guy's range was insane! How far could that destructive alchemy of his possibly reach? And for that matter, why was he using alchemy at all? He and Al were the only Ishvalan alchemists he had ever–

"Ed!" Al cried when the stairs crumbled beneath their feet, and then there was no more time to talk as the earth shook and alchemy's blue lightning cleaved flagstones into rubble.

The Elrics ran for it, heading out towards the fringes of the city. If they were going to fight, they wanted to do it on their own terms, on their own territory, and with as little damage to civilians as possible. And perhaps, if they could lead him into the Ishvalan part of the city, maybe call a few people to help, they could talk him down as Ishvalan to Ishvalan. It was worth a shot, at any rate.

"Muffler!" Ed shouted as they dove into a maze of alleyways, prompting Al to slap one palm onto a tiny circle etched into his side. Sound-dampening materials kept tucked away in his armor for just such a purpose were alchemically wrapped and padded around most of his joints, with leather boots forming around his feet. It cut down on the amount of noise Al's armor made a significant amount, though it wouldn't last long if he kept on moving as much as he was. Metal on pavement wasn't quiet in the least, after all, and fabric and leather could only do so much.

Whipping around corners and sprinting through shortcuts, Ed and Al led Scar through dizzying twists and turns that looked almost all the same until anyone else following would have been hopelessly lost. As it was, they could tell that Scar was beginning to tire as he started to lag behind, and the fury of his destructive powers changed from earth-shaking to… well, less so.

It wasn't long before they attracted the attention of the Ishvalan community, seeing as Scar wasn't even trying to be subtle and anything that the Elric brothers did automatically warranted some measure of attention from their red-eyed brethren. That meant that it wasn't long before the people rallied to protect their own, too; just what the brothers were hoping (praying) for.

Which meant that when Scar finally caught up to the Elrics, predicting their path just enough to bring down the walls surrounding it to block them, it wasn't only the two brothers he was met with.

(In another universe, they might have gotten cornered. In another universe, they might have been forced to stand and fight and almost died for their troubles. In another universe, Scar would have been merciless and unrelenting and nothing they said or did would have stopped him.)

"What– what is this?!" Scar shouted in Ishvalan, rain-drenched and frustrated at the unexpected amount of trouble that this quarry had put him through. "What are you doing?!"

Ed staggered, chest heaving as he leaned against Al to catch his breath. Yet, even though his exhaustion, he still managed to glance at Scar and flash him a smirk that was all teeth.

"Ishvala protects her own, even in the strangest of ways," the elder Elric said, and took great pleasure in the way Scar completely froze up with shock.

The mob surrounding them tightened, people closing in like a living wall to stand between Scar and the brothers.

"Leave," one of them snarled, a knife clenched tightly at his side. "If you've come to spill yet more Ishvalan blood, then you are not welcome here, no matter the color of your skin or eyes."

Scar faltered. "They are Amestrian!" he protested, but the uncertain tone in his voice betrayed him. "Fullmetal's eyes are gold! He carries a State Alchemist's watch at his belt! They are not Ishvalan!"

"We are," Al corrected, still visible in the way he loomed above everyone else. "Half Ishvalan, technically, and half Amestrian. Our mother was Trisha, also known as Hadiya, youngest daughter of the line of Elrikh."

Scar's expression grew even more shell-shocked, if possible. "That– that can't be," he muttered, though it was weak and seemed mostly to himself. "No. It can't be true. You're lying!" The expression on his face was that of a man whose entire world had been turned sideways yet again, bewildered and completely off-balance.

If Al wasn't still angry at Scar for trying to kill him and Ed, he would have almost felt sorry for the man.

The Ishvalans murmured. Their numbers were still growing minute by minute as word spread, more people slipping out of the shadows and filling the alley until they formed a sizable crowd. Scar found himself surrounded on every front, with people even crouched on rooftops and leaning out of windows to watch.

Scar's hand clenched, arm sparking briefly before it died down. It seemed he was reluctant to use his his alchemy when there were so many civilians around, especially since they were fellow Ishvalans. He looked wary. Trapped. Cornered.

And as every hunter knew, cornered animals were the most dangerous ones.

A ripple spread through the crowd. The mass of people shuffled and split from back to front, parting to reveal an old woman making her way down the cleared path. She'd somehow made it past the rubble that sectioned off that part of the alley without Scar noticing, which automatically raised his metaphorical hackles.

The woman stopped beside Ed and Al, the three of them exchanging terse words that were too quiet for Scar to hear. She then continued on until she reached him, not a single other person making a move to stop her. She halted once she was a mere two feet away, every step deliberate as she craned her neck to look him in the eye. Scar had to fight the irrational urge to fidget like he was an errant schoolboy again and forced himself not to shrink under her critical gaze.

"…I recognize you," she pronounced at length. "You're Sharif's boy. What do you think you're doing, trying to kill kin? Blood does not murder blood, fool! Especially not when there are so few of us left in the first place!"

Scar blinked. "…Kin?"

From the back of the crowd, Ed and Al yelped, "Wait, what?!"

Meanwhile, the military was all but tearing the city apart in search of Scar and the missing Elric brothers. The site of Scar's initial attack was obvious from the rubble, and he'd left a fairly clear trail of destruction right up until they hit a notoriously tricky labyrinth of alleyways that could take days to search with any degree of thoroughness. And that was where the three of them, serial killer and his alchemist targets, had seemed to vanish.

Mustang peered at a sodden map of the alleyways and tried to push visions of metal turned to scrap and broken bodies on the ground out of his head. The locals were singularly unhelpful, as most of them had fled at the sight of the Elrics bolting down the street with Scar in pursuit. The smart thing to do in terms of self-preservation, to be sure, but not at all good for investigations. Or manhunts, as the search was turning out to be.

"We'll find them, Roy. Don't worry," Maes said, though his eyes were narrowed and a dagger twirled between his fingertips. "They're smart boys. If they led him in here, it means that they figured that they knew the area better than he did. If they could lose him in that maze…"

If he's hurt them, I'm going to melt his face off, Mustang silently growled to himself. For all that he made airs about treating Ed like a weapon, a tool to further his own advancement, Ed was still so young. Not even a legal adult, if it hadn't been for his State Alchemist certification.

"It's raining," Hawkeye pointed out, and Mustang realized that he'd accidentally said his thoughts aloud.

"Then I'll shoot him in the kneecaps," he countered in a matter-of-fact tone that barely restrained his anger.

"Sir, I'm sure the boys are fine." Her voice was carefully level, but Mustang could see the worry in her eyes as well.

"You can't be sure of that, Hawkeye," he sighed. His fingers rubbed together, poised to snap on instinct despite the rain.

"Then we're just going to have to trust that they can take care of themselves," she replied, though her grip on her rifle was controlled and quite carefully not tense.

Maes chose that moment to butt in. "Aw, Roy! I knew you cared!" he cheered with forced lightheartedness. "Now all we have to do is help you settle down and then you can adopt them!"

"Shut up, Maes!"

Crammed into a small but well-kept hut at the heart of the largest Ishvalan settlement, Ed and Scar were locked in a shouting match that rivaled any clash Fullmetal had ever had with Flame. Al, watching from the sidelines, kept himself ready to step in if things looked like they were going to come to blows.

"Alchemy is a science!" Ed hollered, arms gesticulating wildly as he got right up in Scar's face. "It's got rules, and processes, and logical explanations that make sense–"

"Alchemy is a sin," Scar hissed, sunglasses discarded to reveal trademark Ishvalan-red eyes. "It is the greatest sort of arrogant pride to presume that you know better than Ishvala how the shape the world! Worse yet, you are working for those who have destroyed our people. How could you?!"

"Just because I'm working with them doesn't mean I believe in them! The military are bastards, but they have resources that I need, so don't think you know me or my reasons! And if you think alchemy's so bad, then why are you using it, huh? Those fancy arrays on your arm are a really bizarre style, yeah, but they're alchemy. You can't deny that!" Ed shouted.

If Scar was a cat, he would have puffed up his fur and arched his back in offense. As it was, he still managed to give the appearance of bristling as his body language tensed up and his expression turned to stone.

(Outside the hut, people eavesdropped shamelessly, though it wasn't all that difficult. Those two could have been heard all the way in Resembool with how loud they were. Some of the smarter listeners, remembering Ed's volatile temper and penchant for property damage when he got angry, wondered if they should begin clearing the area before fists started flying.)

"Both of you! Hush!" the old woman barked, kneeling on a worn cushion beside Al. "I have had enough of your bickering. You are kin, whether you like it or not! Zahir, do not antagonize him further. Asad, you must learn to let go of your prejudices. Alchemy is a tool; nothing more and nothing less."

Ed opened his mouth. Closed it. Blinked. "…Asad?"

"…Zahir?" Scar echoed, staring at Ed.

The old woman, Elder Khalidah, scoffed. "Amestrian names sound foolish. Zahir is much more fitting than Edward, in my opinion," she told Ed. Turning to Scar, she continued, "And I'm certainly not calling you something as stupid as Scar. Ishvala gave you a perfectly good name of your own, you know. It should not be given up lightly."

Sc– Asad flinched. "I… lost my right to my Ishvala-given name a long time ago," he said. "I am only Scar now."

"Don't be an idiot!" Elder Khalidah snapped. "You might have done some terrible things, but that does not mean that you are allowed be so selfish as to throw away your identity! You don't get to run away from your responsibilities like that. Not when every child of Ishvala must stand together and support each other in these terrible times."

Asad shrank in on himself. Ed winced in sympathy. He'd been on the receiving end of Elder Khalidah's tongue-lashings before, and knew from experience that she would ferret out every weak point in her victim and target them mercilessly. Though, he did have to admit that it was much more entertaining as a spectator than as the target.

"You run about, slaughtering State Alchemists, and never think of the consequences for the rest of us!" the old woman continued. "The reputation of our people as a whole has suffered greatly, and because of you now the Amestrians think us all savages!"

Even Al looked downcast, knowing that what she said was true. He and Ed had seen how Ishvalans were treated during their travels, and much of it wasn't pretty.

"Have you not seen how we must hide in the shadows, forced to the fringes of society? Scrounging for survival was bad enough before, but now it is even worse! The military is more brutal, the Amestrians are more mistrustful, and children are almost starving. You should not be taking selfish revenge, you should be atoning for your sins by helping us!" Elder Khalidah all but spat.

Ed cringed again. Ooh, she was mad. Rightfully so, but still. Ouch.

"I–" Asad began, and stopped. Thought for a moment, and began again. "…You have given me much to think about, Honored Elder," he murmured, a stark contrast in volume to his previous shouts. "I think that I should meditate on it."

Ed's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Meditate? I never would have thought you were the type."

"Before the War, I was a warrior priest," Asad rather stiffly admitted. "A great deal of our training was knowing how to control our emotions and not letting them rule us."

"Huh." Ed glanced at Al and plopped himself back down onto his own cushion, arms crossed. "You learn something new every day."

That was the moment a nervous-looking young man chose to knock politely at the door before poking his head in, likely timing it to when the situation seemed to have died down. He still eyed Asad with a wary gaze, and stopped at the threshold to deliver his message.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said, "but the military's starting to get close, and you've all been in here for a good few hours now…"

Ed blinked. Pulled out his watch to check the time, and bit off a curse as he realized how long it had been. Scrambling to his feet, with Al following in a clatter of metallic armor, the two of them all but dashed out of the hut.

"Sorry we'll come back and talk later but I didn't realize how long it's been and we really need to go!" Ed called over his shoulder, overriding Elder Khalidah's stern reminders that she hadn't yet given him his own lecture on stupidity. "Asad, don't kill anyone and stay hidden! We'll come back as soon as we can!"

The last that both Elder and hopefully-former killer saw of the brothers were the tail end of Ed's red jacket and the plume on Al's helmet whipping around a corner out of sight. Asad, caught slightly off-balance by their abrupt departure, couldn't help but stare at the empty cushions that they had just vacated.

Ishvala above, he thought to himself. And those two are kin?

Mustang would deny it to his dying days, but the moment he saw Ed and Al stumble up the road (both looking significantly worse for wear but they were alive oh God they were alive) his knees almost gave out from sheer relief. As it was, he forced himself to stay upright and rush to meet them. What felt like half the soldiers in the city followed on his heels, Hawkeye at their forefront.

"We're fine, everyone. Relax!" Ed squawked with eyes wide as the brothers were just about mobbed. "Seriously, give us some breathing room!"

"You're not hurt, are you? Not a scratch?" Hughes fussed, poking and prodding at both armor and flesh. "What happened to Scar?"

Slapping Hughes' hand away, Ed glared at him but replied, "We managed to lose him in the alleys. He's fast, yeah, but he ain't subtle. And he slowed down when we started getting closer to the slums, so Al and I were able to duck into an empty hut and wait him out. Think the way half the military showed up to chase him scared him off."

Mustang frowned. Something about that explanation, however flippantly given, rang false to him. He couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but… it just seemed off. But Ed wouldn't have any reason to lie to them. Right?

"Any idea where he might have gone?" Mustang asked. "If he's still out there, he might come after you again. He hasn't missed a target once yet." If Ed was still in danger, perhaps he would have to assign the boys a guard or two. Ed would throw a fit, naturally, but if it prevented their insides from being exploded by a serial killer then Mustang would endure a hundred hours of Ed's ranting.

Ed shrugged. "No clue. Wasn't like we were gonna stick around and ask about his travel plans, y'know. We're not stupid."

Well. Mustang did have to concede that point. Reckless, yes. Entirely too self-sacrificing when it came to his brother, yes. Stubborn and thick-headed as a mule, oh yes. But stupid? No. That was one thing that Edward Elric most definitely was not.

Which begged the question: why run in the opposite direction of their allies and reinforcements? Back alleyways aside, Ed and Al would have had much better chances at Headquarters, which was chock-full of soldiers and thus a place that Scar would have wanted to avoid. Not grimy narrow streets and dead ends where the only people around to help would have been the poorest folk, the slum-dwellers, the–

…No. Not just them. Not only those people, but the Ishvalans.

It stood to reason that Scar would be hesitant to kill his own people. Sure, it wasn't officially confirmed that the serial killer was Ishvalan, but all rumors said that he was dark-skinned with white hair and always wore sunglasses, even in the rain. Why else would he do that, if not to hide trademark red eyes? What better reason would he have to targeting State Alchemists specifically than revenge?

Except, the Ishvalans didn't exactly trust Amestrians either, not after what Amestris had done to them. Why would Ed and Al go to them for help, even knowing that mere proximity might stay Scar's hand? That wouldn't matter if they saw golden eyes and blond hair, automail and State Alchemist watch under a brilliant red coat that was rapidly becoming Ed's symbol. Despite his reputation as the People's Alchemist, there was no way the Elrics could have known that the Ishvalans wouldn't simply hand them right back to Scar.

Roy Mustang, for all that he sometimes played the fool, was about as far removed from a stupid man as a lapdog from a wolf. And, like the sharp-eyed wolf who scented ash on the wind and heard roaring on the horizon… he could tell that something wasn't right.

Kain Fuery, no matter what others might assume from his young appearance, was not a stupid man either.

He was more observant than many gave him credit for, eyes sharp behind his glasses and an engineering genius behind his boyish face. To fix things, after all, one must first know how to break them, how to take them apart, then how to put them back together just as good or even better than before. Besides which, half of his job was literally to listen, learn, and report back relevant information. That meant reading between the lines of conversations, picking up the little details that others missed, and generally being much more astute than outsiders expected.

As a side effect of this, he was also astonishingly good at keeping secrets.

When Kain was a child, he'd had neighbors. They were notoriously reclusive, hardly ever seen outside the privacy of their own home. For years, that was simply a fact of life. He never bothered to question it. Until one day he got curious and decided to ask, Why?

None of the adults would give him a straight answer. "It's not something that you would understand," they said, and the downward slashes of their mouths spoke distaste. "Just stay away from them. You'll know when you're older," they told him, and the way they wrinkled their noses said disgust.

Kain had grown up in a very well-off neighborhood with an upstanding, respectable family of modest wealth. They were proper, educated, and, in his opinion, rather stuffy. Which was why he went off to join the military in an attempt to actually help people while they managed their business, mingled with high society folk, and stubbornly ignored those they considered beneath them.

Kain had also been an incorrigibly curious child, so when the adults wouldn't answer his questions, he decided to investigate things on his own. Meaning that eventually, after questioning everyone around him, Fuery managed to uncover the source of his neighbor's social isolation.

The neighbors, as it turned out, were a mixed-race family. Amestrian father, Ishvalan mother, and three biracial children who, unfortunately in society's eyes, took more after the maternal side of the family. The only reason they were allowed to live in as good of a neighborhood as they were was because the father had money and influence, two things that spoke louder than anything else.

Now, Fuery had a very liberal mindset. A tutor he'd had since nearly the moment he could read and write had imparted upon him the ideas of equality for all, social justice, and a strong urge to help the world make that happen. It was to her that Fuery owed many of his more controversial opinions, though a great deal of those also stemmed from his own innate kindness.

Not only that, but the idea of racism just didn't make sense. So what if they looked different? That didn't mean that they were stupider. It didn't mean that they were less capable. It just meant that they were from a different place with a different culture and different beliefs but that didn't mean that they weren't human.

Soon after his discovery, Kain saw his neighbors in the flesh. One thing led to another, and, well… the three siblings became his friends. The first his age that he'd ever had, actually.

(Of course, they did accidentally break his radio and almost knock him off his roof first, but that was a story for another time.)

At any rate, Kain Fuery had experience with recognizing people of mixed heritages. He had experience with Ishvalan culture, too, more so than many others his age. The older people he served with, who had fought in the war– well, it wasn't quite the same. They had known Ishvalans as rebels, as fighters, as people of the desert who fought and died by the hundreds. He knew Ishvalans as three lonely children who never had friends besides each other, who welcomed him with open arms despite his skin color and geeky tendencies and shy personality.

These years of experience (he'd never lost contact with those three siblings, not even after joining the military) let him pick up more about the Elrics than the brothers likely knew. Such as the way Al always scuffed his toes against a threshold before crossing, a superstition to notify the spirits of a dwelling that someone was entering their domain. Or Ed's alchemy notes that were written in seemingly-meaningless scribbles barely recognizable as the desert language. And how the two Elrics were on almost suspiciously good terms with the Ishvalan communities, more so than any other alchemists that Kain had ever heard of.

Yeah. Kain was sure that he had a fairly good idea of where Ed's hair, just gold enough to pass off as blond yet pale enough to be almost white, and his skin, light enough to be a tan and a shade too dark to be normal, came from. Al's eyes were red, too, though they also had an eerie glow and Kain honestly had no idea what his skin or hair looked like.

Still, Kain never breathed a word of his suspicions to anyone else, not when he knew what the general public thought of Ishvalans. It wasn't favorable, not in the least, and he figured that if the Elrics wanted to keep it hidden, then it was none of his business and not his secret to reveal.

"I want to punch him in his stupid smug face," Fuery heard Ed hiss, accompanied by the sounds of an automail leg stomping across carpet in frustration. "I swear, if Colonel Bastard calls me short one more time–"

"Brother," Al sighed, and even if Fuery couldn't see the two he could hear the exasperation in Al's tone. "Please. Punching him wouldn't solve anything. He'd just send you out on another pointless mission in revenge. You know that."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Ed grumbled, and the sounds of clanking metal stopped. "Those missions are a waste of time that we can't afford to lose. And he knows that, damn him! I'm telling you, Al, one of these days I'm gonna strangle him and I will enjoy it."

Fuery cringed, and thought rather morbidly that if Ed ever did murder the Colonel, it would be on Fuery's head for not warning his superior. Still, Fuery didn't think that Ed would go that far… right?

The pacing resumed for another few seconds, and then Ed switched to a different topic. "Have you heard anything from Asad? How is he doing?"

Al sighed. "…Better, I think," he said, and Fuery wondered who they were talking about. "He's surprisingly good with the kids, apparently."

"Really?" The footsteps stopped again. "Huh. Just a bundle of contradictions, eh?"

Al laughed. "Well, at least he's doing something productive. And the parents are happy to have a new babysitter."

"Ha! I bet they are. Those kids are a handful. It's not easy keeping 'em out of trouble."

Fuery blinked, trying to process that. Ed's tone had implied familiarity, underlying amusement and fondness pointing to firsthand experience. Had the Elrics… babysat these kids they were talking about before? It was no secret that Maes Hughes liked to enlist them as minders for Elicia whenever he could manage it, but that was one little girl compared to what sounded like at least several energetic young children. Perhaps more. Whose were they? Why would the Elric brothers agree to watch them? And who in the world was Asad?

The conversation turned to other things after that: inane, everyday things that wouldn't have sounded out of place in a talk between two ordinary teenagers. Fuery, guilt settling low and uncomfortable in his gut, turned to leave. He hadn't even intended to eavesdrop; it had just sort of happened. It wasn't Fuery's fault that the Elrics' (it was Ed's, technically, but everyone knew that it really belonged to both of them) room in the military dorms was on the way to his. And it was nearly three in the morning, so he'd naturally been curious when he heard people still up.

Still, as Fuery slipped away down the hall, he was already dredging up seldom-used contacts in his mind. Perhaps it was time for him to start paying more attention to the goings-on of the Ishvalan community again…

Quietly, of course. And Mustang didn't need to know. Fuery was only indulging his own curiosity, after all.

Seeing Sc– no, Asad, he had to remember that –with a battered grey jacket instead of his customary yellow-gold coat was… a little strange, to be honest.

"Huh." Ed tilted his head, squinting sideways. "Somehow you look even bigger. What do you eat, raw eggs and steak for every meal?"

Asad folded his arms across his chest, frowning. His stern expression stretched the huge scar across his face, only adding to his rather intimidating air. If he was just a little taller, he could have very nearly matched Al for height.

Ed, naturally, was unfazed.

"What are you doing here?" Asad rumbled, and neither Elric missed how he always kept one eye on the curious onlookers.

"Visiting you, among other things," Ed told him. "You didn't think we'd just disappear forever, did you?"

Asad raised a brow. "You haven't been in contact with anyone for a week." And that was a week longer than usual, considering how the brothers had been making an effort to spend time with the Ishvalans and, by proxy, their cousin, on a regular basis.

"We had a mission," Al replied, tone a little sheepish. "It was kinda sudden."

"Too sudden to send a message?" Elder Khalidah walked up to them, expression lined with faint disapproval. "That was rather rude."

"Sorry," both Elrics chorused, ducking their heads in an identical guilty move. "Um. It was for a good cause? We saved a town from a group of bandits who had been terrorizing them."

At that, the kids who had been watching from the sidelines visibly perked up. The moment that they realized that the mission had been an adventure mission, they knew that there was another good story ripe for telling. And they wanted to hear it.

"Hey," Ed realized, a grin spreading across his face, "were you actually worried about us? Aw, you do care!"

Asad humphed, frowning deeper. "…No."

Neither Elric was fooled in the least. Al snickered.

In a fruitless attempt to save face, Asad glowered at them before turning on his heel and walking away. He vanished into one of the huts nearby, which meant that he'd probably spend an hour or so meditating before emerging. Asad meditated a lot, as it turned out. Ed found no end of amusement in that.

Grinning wider, Ed knocked one hand against Al's armor. "I think we're getting through to him," he said, cheered.

"I think so too, Brother," Al agreed, and if he could he would have smiled.

Ed hit the ground with a startled yelp, rolling back to his feet just in time to catch a punch aimed for his head. Twisting, he threw Asad over his shoulder, momentum lending the move speed and force.

The crowd oohed, leaning forward. Asad nearly fell into them as the circle inadvertently tightened, prompting them to lean back like willows swaying in the wind.

"I think I win," Ed laughed with a near-feral grin, relaxing his stance. "First blood."

Asad stopped, blinking down at the cut across his arm from where Ed's automail blade had broken skin. It was shallow, not meant to truly hurt, but visible enough to be undisputable. "Hm. So it seems."

Ed clapped, returning his arm to its normal state. "Good fight," he said, offering Asad a hand up.

A beat of silence, the older man's eyes widening a fraction. Surprise, like he hadn't expected help, and Ed tamped down on the brief flare of anger that ignited.

The moment passed and Asad, lips curving into what could be loosely termed a smile, reached up.

Who did they lose?

Asad hadn't missed the mourning ribbons tying Ed's braid and woven into Al's tassel. He hadn't missed the sad, almost bitter edge to Ed's expressions. He hadn't missed the fasting that had lasted all day, or the sudden influx of childhood memories that were seemed to be part stories for the children and part reminiscing of simpler, happier times.

He had working eyes and ears, after all, and he wasn't stupid. He hadn't missed a thing.

(And if he happened to be watching the Elrics rather more closely than he let on, well… he wasn't worried, per say, just– curious. Yeah. Curious.

Attachment had nothing to do with it. Nope, nothing at all.)

Don't forget 3.oct.10

Asad had seen that, carved inside the lid of a State Alchemist watch. He didn't think he had been meant to see it, a passing glimpse of something more private than he was entitled to know. Still, what had happened on that date? Who had they lost, all those years ago?

And it had to have been years ago, because he recognized that old sort of grief. He recognized it because he saw it in himself, in time-worn edges of mourning and sorrow all tempered with age. He knew what it looked like, how to see it in others because every Ishvalan carried it with them. Nobody had been untouched by the war. The only difference was that some bore their scars more visibly than others.

Though, when he really thought about it… wasn't the answer obvious?

"Our mother was Trisha, also known as Hadiya, youngest daughter of the line of Elrikh."

They were of Ishvalan blood through their mother, Hadiya of the Elrikhs. In Amestrian her given name had changed to Trisha, her family name translated to Elric. Who else would the brothers mourn with Ishvalan custom, if not her?

Asad knew that she was dead. He also knew that they had committed a grave sin in an attempt bring her back, a sin that had forced Al into his armor and cost Ed his limbs. He knew that hair ribbons meant a family member, as per tradition, and all those pieces put together only reinforced his certainty.

They have lost much, he thought, solemn. And they were still so young.

"I had one sibling," Asad said. "My older brother, Kateb." He held out his bare arms, tattoos in full view, with a bitter smile. "He was the one who gave me these. Kateb studied alchemy as well, along with Xingese alkahestry. Most people thought he was a little… touched in the head. If they were being polite."

"And a heretic if they weren't?" Ed asked rhetorically, wry. "Yeah, we've gotten that a good few times." He leaned forward, gaze locked onto the tattoos with studious intent. "I guess this is quite the alternative to automail. What he did with those arrays is really interesting, though… I don't know enough about alkahestry to reverse-engineer 'em, but it looks like pretty good work."

Al leaned in to join him, metal grinding. "It's a little strange that they don't really look like arrays, though. They could be easily mistaken as nothing but fancy tattoos. And I understand the Lightning, but I've never seen the Serpents used like that before…"

"To be honest, I know nothing of how it works. Only that this side causes destruction, and the other creation," Asad admitted. "I hid Kateb's notes in the North, but even if I had them I wouldn't be able to understand them. I was hoping you could tell me."

Ed let out a thoughtful hum, already lost in his own head. "Get us those notes and maybe a few months to study alkahestry and we probably could, yeah. The real question is, how is the feedback not– oh, never mind. Duh. The Serpents are earth, and earth and lightning cancel each other out." He paused, brow furrowed. "But then–"

He descended into a heated discussion with Al, the two of them throwing around terms and theories that only another master of alchemy could understand.

Asad sat back and let them work, satisfied. As soon as he was able, he would journey to the North and retrieve his brother's notes. Maybe then, with family who were smarter than he was… he could finally decipher his brother's last project.

He had a feeling, somehow, that it was going to be important.

Ed scowled, jabbing one automail finger at the mess of fabric and canvas. "That is not a blanket fort."

A head of dark hair and bright eyes popped out. "It is!" he insisted, glaring up at Ed. "It's the best blanket fort ever!"

Ed snorted. "Yeah, sure. Sheesh, what are they teaching you kids now? I could make a better one than that in my sleep! And I wouldn't even need to use alchemy."

Another head popped out, this one white-haired and red-eyed and grinning like a loon. "Yeah! Zahir makes the best blanket forts!"

A chorus of muffled agreements rose up from within the structure. Al chuckled, gently admonishing, "Speak Amestrian, remember? Not everyone here can understand Ishvalan."

"Oh, right. Sorry." The Ishvalan child looked chastised for all of two seconds before he perked up again, nudging his Amestrian companion in the shoulder. "Hey, c'mon! Show 'em the secret tunnels!"

The Amestrian child perked up. "Hey, good idea! Then you gotta say it's an awesome fort!" He ducked his head back down, fabric shifting and children giggling before he reappeared in a different section. Lifting a flap of canvas, he beckoned for Ed to follow him.

Ed looked at it, weighed his dignity against those hopeful puppy-eyes, and sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, and crawled in.

Al, watching the scene, checked the time. "We can only stay for a few more minutes before we really should go report in," he reminded his brother.

"Yeah, yeah," came the muffled acknowledgement from the midst of the fort. Then a dull thud, followed by, "Ow! Is this a barrel?"

Cue chorus of giggling.

Al sighed. Well, being a little late probably wouldn't hurt. It wasn't as if it was the first time, anyways…

Mustang paced. "Where are those two?! Maes said they got off the train an hour ago! It doesn't take that long to get to Headquarters!"

"Hey, Boss," Havoc called across the office, "where do you guys disappear to all the time, anyways? Even when you're off mission you're never around!"

Ed, filling out some paperwork for his yearly evaluation, scowled. "None of your business."

"C'mon, not even a hint? You got a secret girlfriend stashed around here or something?" Havoc wheedled, not oblivious to the sudden tense set of Ed's shoulders. Unfortunately for him, he lacked the self-preservation skills to back off, instead taking Ed's reaction as proof that he'd found a weak point to be exploited.

Breda, eager for any distraction from tedious paper pushing, joined in. "Nah, he's hung up on that mechanic girl. I bet it's something else," he said, and grinned at how Ed's teeth began to grind near-audibly. "Let me guess… you're sneaking into bars?"

He was joking, since he knew that Ed would never let Al anywhere near alcohol before the legal drinking age, but he was honestly curious as well. The Elric brothers were the most secretive pair of their group by far, rivaled only by the Colonel himself. Their frequent vanishing acts were a point of interest among the rest of the office, with the brothers only surfacing to report in for new missions or to hole themselves up in the library with yet another line of research. Not even Maes Hughes knew where they went the rest of the time, and he worked in Intelligence.

Ed let out an indignant squawk, bristling like an affronted wildcat. "No!"

Al, contrary to the other soldiers' predictions, snickered. "Brother hates alcohol," he confided in a stage whisper. "Almost as much as he hates milk. He's hated it ever since we accidentally got into Granny's moonshine when we were kids. Can't blame him, though. That stuff tasted disgusting."

"It is an acquired taste, at least in my experience," Fuery quietly agreed. "Takes some getting used to."

Havoc's jaw dropped. "How can you not like alcohol? It's great stuff! It–"

"–Destroys your body, makes people act like idiots, and tastes terrible," Ed interrupted.

He seemed to have relaxed a fraction once Havoc's attention was drawn into other topics besides his and Al's disappearances, though not by much. "The only thing alcohol's good for is cleaning injuries."

"He does have a fair point," Falman murmured. Tucked away in the corner, Havoc tried not to jump when the man spoke for the first time in what felt like hours. "I personally do not drink because of the negative effects that alcohol would have on my body."

"Besides which," Al broke in, tone altogether far too cheery for Ed's grumbling, "we're both minors. Are you trying to convince us to break the law, Lieutenant?"

Havoc blanched. "Um–"

Hawkeye saved him from answering by choosing that moment to sweep in from Mustang's office, sharp and imperious. All conversation instantly stopped when she passed through, a bundle of files tucked under her arm. Everyone went back to diligently filling out their paperwork, or at least pretending to do so and desperately hoping she wouldn't notice.

(She noticed, of course. She always noticed.)

For a time, it seemed, the Elric brothers' odd habits had once again escaped interrogation. Ed and Al let themselves relax, and each resolved to be more subtle in the future. Problem was, the pair of them had underestimated their coworkers' curiosity and determination…

The thing about secrets was that they rarely stayed secrets forever.

Ed and Al knew that, yes, but they'd hoped– well. They'd hoped, however foolishly, that theirs wouldn't come out until they were good and ready. That it would stay hidden until Al got his body back and Ed could cut ties with the military for good, or at the very least until general opinion towards Ishvalans was a little more positive.

Alas, the Elric luck wasn't going to be nearly so kind. Even little things, after all, added up in the end…

"Um." Fuery held up a piece of paper, looking rather embarrassed. "Can anyone break this code?"

"What is it?" Havoc leaned sideways to peer at the paper, nearly dropping his cigarette in the process. "Wait, what language is that even in?"

"Ishvalan," Fuery replied. "It's from my friends. They have… a strange sense of humor."

Ed's head snapped up at that, eyes zeroing in on the paper. His jaw worked as if he was about to say something, but the words never escaped his mouth. Nobody noticed except for Al, who gave a minute shake of his head.

"Why are your friends sending you coded messages you can't even read? This some sort of joke?" Breda asked.

"Oh, no. I can read it, sort of," Fuery chuckled. "This is kinda their way of teaching me. I'm not that great with pronunciation yet, but we don't get to meet very often, and they like puzzles, so…" he shrugged, looking sheepish. "It's kind of just something we do now. I retaliate by sending them messages hidden in blueprints."

Havoc blinked. "…Kid, you have some weird friends."

Fuery's lips twitched into a grin. "They'd take that as a compliment. Anyways," he flourished the paper, "can you guys help? I translated it already on the back, but I don't recognize this code at all…"

"Yeah, sure. Why not." The other three men gathered around his desk, eager for a break from paperwork. "Hey Boss, wanna join us?" Havoc called over to Ed, grinning. "You're an alchemist, so you should know codes, right?"

Ed was sorely tempted, because codes and puzzles, but managed to resist. "Nah, got too much stuff to do. Mustang's on my case enough already."

"Suit yourself." Havoc ducked back into the huddle that nearly hid the other desk from view.

Ed sighed, twirling a pen between automail fingers. "This is so boring, Al," he muttered. "I don't I can take much more of it without my brain turning into mush."

"Only a couple more stacks, then you're finished," Al reminded him. "Besides, it is kind of your fault for putting so much of it off for so long."

"Fair enough," Ed conceded, and began filling out the next sheet with minimal protest.

An hour passed in relative peace, the sounds of the others arguing over Fuery's coded message fading into the background as Ed worked. Al kept himself occupied with alchemy notes, writing them in coded Amestrian for later translation into Ishvalan. At length, Ed scrawled his signature on the last sheet and threw his pen down, leaning back in his seat with a grimace.

"Ugh, thank fuck that's over with," he muttered, rising to his feet. "C'mon, Al. Let's get outta here."

Al nodded, armor clanking as he packed up his notes into neat stacks and slid them into a bag. "Will we be visiting them today?" he asked, and they both knew who he was referring to. "I heard that last storm knocked down a lot of the shelters, so they could use some help rebuilding."

"Then that's where we're headed. I've got energy to burn, so it may as well be productive." Ed grabbed his coat off the chair and headed for the door. As he passed by Fuery's desk, however, he leaned over and snagged the paper out from under Breda's hands.

"Brother," Al sighed, long-suffering but fond.

"What? I couldn't help myself!" Ed defended, keeping the paper out of the other soldiers' reach. "Besides, this is so easy. All you have to do is–" he rattled off a set of instructions for breaking the code, then let Havoc grab it back. "Simple."

With that, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled out the door, Al following just a half-step behind.

"Brother, that was kind of mean," the soldiers heard him chide as the sounds of metallic footsteps dwindled. "You didn't have to rub it in their faces like that."

"C'mon, Al, it was easy…" Ed whined back, laughter hiding behind his words.

"Oh yeah," Havoc muttered, like he couldn't believe he'd forgotten. "Genius. Right."

Five minutes later, Fuery let out an oh of surprise when he figured out exactly where he'd gone wrong. "Ugh, that was so stupid of me," he groaned, forehead meeting desk with a dull thunk. "I mistranslated one word and the whole thing fell apart. No wonder we couldn't figure it out!"

Falman looked over at Fuery's scribbled notes. "Mistranslated?"

"Yeah, right here." Fuery pointed out the spot. "I read it as meaning 'sun', but in context it's actually supposed to translate as 'day' instead. Sorry, guys."

Falman raised an eyebrow. "If you mistranslated that," he mused aloud, "and Ed knew how to decode the message based on your translation… then, how did he manage to decode it successfully?"

Fuery's eyes went very, very, wide. "Um. Maybe he picked up on some Ishvalan? They do travel a lot."

"Perhaps," Falman agreed, but privately, he wondered if there was anything more.

This, Maes thought, grinning behind the camera, is adorable.

"This," Ed muttered, eyeing the camera like he wanted to chop it up into tiny little pieces and set it on fire, "is undignified."

Elicia giggled. "Hold still! I need to put more bows in!"

"I– ow –think I have– hey no pulling –enough bows." Ed winced when Elicia grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged his head down so she could better reach. In went another clip-on hair bow, joining the multitude arranged haphazardly throughout Ed's unbraided hair.

Al couldn't hold back his giggling. "But, Brother, you look so pretty with those!"

"Thank you!" Elicia beamed at the indirect compliment.

Ed just grumbled, crossing his arms. "Hughes, I swear, if you take any more pictures–"

Just because he could, Maes grinned wider and raised his camera again. "Say cheese!"

Click!

"Hey!"

Elicia clapped her hands, delighted. "Finished!"

"Finally," Ed sighed. "Can I take them out now?"

Elicia frowned, lip wobbling. "Y-you don't like them?"

Ed turned around, saw her expression, and almost visibly panicked. "No, no! They're great! I'll wear them for as long as you want me to, okay?"

"Okay!" Elicia did a complete one-eighty in less than five seconds, threatened crocodile tears vanishing. Maes was so proud. "Can you tell me a story now?"

"Um. What kind of story do you want?" Ed asked, surreptitiously loosening some of his hair ornaments. Maes sympathized. Those things pinched. "And, to be honest, Al's probably better at that kinda stuff than me…"

"Oh, but she was asking you, Brother," Al demurred, laughing silently. Ed scowled at him.

Elicia stopped to think for a moment. Maes nearly squealed at the adorable expression she made, her brow furrowed and nose all scrunched up. He was tempted to take another picture, but his camera was starting to run out of film.

"I want to hear something with animals!" she said, and Maes knew where that had come from. Her latest favorite picture book was about all the creatures in a zoo, and she'd been obsessed with it for two weeks.

Ed let out a gusty sigh. "Fine, fine. Let me think…" he lapsed into silence for a moment while Elicia looked on with wide, hopeful eyes. "Ah. Have you ever heard the story of the cat and the crow?"

Elicia shook her head in a rapid no. "Tell me! Tell me!"

"Alright. So. This is a story my mom used to tell me and Al when we were kids," Maes didn't miss the way Al stiffened at that, "and we always thought it was pretty cool." Ed settled his back against the couch, something nostalgic in his eyes, and began to speak.

"One day," he said, "the cat and the crow, who were very good friends, were sitting together beneath a tree…"

(They were content and unwatchful, which would nearly be their doom, Trisha murmured. Because, unknown to them, a hungry leopard was sneaking up on the two from behind…)

"When the cat and the crow saw the leopard coming, the crow immediately flew to the very top of the tree. The cat, however, could not fly and was left behind on the ground."

(The cat was very scared of getting eaten by the leopard, so he turned to the crow up in the tree and asked, "Can you save me? You hold all my hopes, my friend!")

"The crow, who was a loyal companion, told the cat, 'Of course! Friends and brothers must help each other when danger comes.'"

(Now, there was a shepherd nearby tending his flock. With him were many large dogs, who were strong and fierce and could drive away the leopard. The crow saw this from his view high in the sky and got a very clever idea.)

"The crow flew out of the tree and flew at the shepherd and his dogs. He flew right up to them and pecked at their heads, beat his wings in their faces, and made them all so mad that they started to chase him."

(The crow then flew as fast as he could back to the tree with the leopard and the cat, keeping low to the ground so he could be followed. The shepherd and the dogs chased him all the way, yelling and barking. However, when they got close enough, the shepherd and his dogs saw the leopard and realized that it would threaten their sheep if they left it unchecked.)

"And so the shepherd set the dogs on the leopard and drove it away," Ed continued, "thus the crow had saved the cat, and they both lived together in peace once more."

Maes listened as Ed finished off the tale of friendship and bravery, Elicia utterly enthralled. Something, however, niggled at the back of his mind. That story… it sounded like a folktale, but not any folktale he'd ever heard of before. Not any Amestrian one, at any rate. The non-Amestrian setting, the cat and the crow, the style in which Ed talked… in all honesty, Maes would have described it as more Ishvalan than anything else.

And this was something that Trisha Elric had used to tell her sons?

"How've things been going?" Ed asked, leaning against the wall with a canteen of water in hand. "I heard the rebuilding's been going a lot faster with your help."

Asad took a drink from his own canteen. He looked lighter, somehow, the dark shadows in his eyes faded and the normally stern contours of his face ever so slightly softened. Not by much, admittedly, but Ed figured that was more a personality thing than a mental health thing. The past weeks had been good for him, and the Elrics were glad for it.

"…Better," he allowed after a moment. "We have come back from worse than this. It helped that you solidified the foundations already."

"Hey, what's family for?" Ed grinned, turning to look at where Al was still transmuting shelters back together. "Al, come over here! You can take a break, y'know!"

Al looked over and nodded, finishing off the last of his work before heading in their direction. Puddles splashed muddy water over his boots with every step, the aftermath of the worst storm the city had seen in a decade still making themselves known.

"That should be enough for at least the women and children," Al said as he brushed some dirt off his breechcloth. "It can't be comfortable hiding out in the sewer systems."

"It wasn't," Asad grunted, expression souring. "Especially when we were nearly flooded."

Ed winced. "Ouch. Not even the underground was safe?"

"A few days in, it was little better than the surface," Asad told him. "We were lucky that the storm blew itself out when it did. Otherwise we might have drowned." He took another drink of water, glancing at the brothers with one eyebrow raised. "The military will not be missing you?"

"Nah, we'll be fine." Ed waved a dismissive hand. "We disappear on them all the time. They're used to it by now."

"I still don't like that you're working so closely with the Flame and the Hawk's Eye," Asad grumbled. "It isn't safe."

"Says the former serial killer?" Ed looked flat-out incredulous at that. "Damn, I never would've pegged you for the mother-hen type."

Al giggled. Asad glared.

"I'm serious," Asad said. "It isn't safe. If any of them knew–"

"They don't," Ed countered. "And even if they did, there isn't a damn thing they could do about it. I'm the People's Alchemist. Whether he likes it or not, Mustang needs me. It's politics, yeah, but this time it's working in our favor." He grimaced at the thought, but continued on. "Besides, they're not all that bad. Fuery's pretty nice, and Havoc and Breda are some of the most easygoing people I've ever met."

"That does not mean they are without blame," Asad growled. "You are in the lion's den!"

"You think I don't know that? I knew the moment I signed up it was gonna be risky," Ed replied. "But I know what I'm doing." He and Al shared a glance. "We both know."

Asad dragged a hand down his face in frustration. "Do you really?"

"Yes," they chorused. "Stop worrying," Ed added. "C'mon, do you really think we'd have survived for this long without knowing how to hide?"

"…Fine," Asad sighed. "But I still don't like it."

Ed grinned. "Then it's a good thing it's not your really your decision, eh?"

Ed and Al had disappeared yet again, the anniversary of the War was in two days, and all Roy wanted to do was get as drunk as humanly possible.

"Hero of Ishval" my ass, he thought, knocking back a glass of beer. It wasn't nearly as strong as he wanted, but he did have to be able to go to work and function the next day. Which meant some self-restraint was needed. Not much, granted, since he was in the bar in the first place, but still.

"Another drink for my friend here," Roy heard someone say as they slid onto the stool beside him. "And one for me, too. The good stuff, please."

Roy tilted his head, tossing Maes an arched brow. "You do realize we both have work tomorrow, right?"

Maes shrugged. "Eh. It won't be the first time we've come in with hangovers. Remember the academy?"

Roy grimaced. "God, don't remind me. I'm still not sure how we survived without alcohol poisoning."

"A testament to the strength of our livers, no doubt," Maes laughed. He quickly sobered, however, and asked, "Seriously, though. How are you doing?"

Roy stared into his beer, shoulders tense. "Fine."

"Uh, huh." Maes let out a disbelieving snort. "And that would be why you're sitting here at ten o'clock on a Monday night, hm?"

The other man glanced away. "What did you want to talk about, Maes? I'm pretty sure you didn't come just to ask about my health."

"Okay, okay. Not in the mood for chit chat, huh?" Maes sighed. "You're not gonna like this, but it's about the Elric brothers."

Now, that got Roy's attention. "What about them?"

Maes raised a brow. "You haven't noticed anything… off about them, lately?"

Roy blinked, thinking back to their behavior over recent weeks. "Not particularly, but then again, they're hardly around."

Maes took a sip of his drink, pitching his voice low. "Well, rumor has it they've been spending a lot of time in the slums lately. With the Ishvalans, no less. They aren't saying a thing, of course, but people notice when State Alchemists show up in that part of town. No matter how subtle they try to be."

Roy snorted at that. "Subtle? The Elrics? I don't think Ed even knows what the word means."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. They are geniuses," Maes mused. "But anyway, I did some digging. Turns out they've been showing up there for a while. More obvious lately since they've been helping out with repairs and reconstruction, but I think that might be where they always disappear to."

"Oh?" Roy felt as if he should have been more shocked. But, well, that was just like them, wasn't it? The Elric brothers were conundrums, never making any sort of sense to anyone except each other. This was just another piece of the puzzle.

And Ed was the People's Alchemist, which he seemed to interpret as applying to all people. Still, why the Ishvalans in particular? If that was truly where they spent most of their time, then why did Roy somehow feel as if the Elrics preferred their company to those of Amestrians? Why, why, why?

Something was missing from the picture, some critical piece that was hovering just beyond his reach. But what was it?

Something was missing, and now that Roy's curiosity had been piqued, he wasn't going to rest until he figured it out.

It happened, as many pivotal moments of their lives seemed to occur, on a rainy day.

At first, Ed and Al didn't think anything of it. The weather had been dreary enough for what felt like forever. Though the severity of the storms had lessened, there was still a perpetual state of rainfall that soaked right into the bones and reduced everything to a soggy mess. It was making the Colonel rather cranky, which was why the Elrics took greater pains to avoid the office more so than usual.

(If they had been there, with the others, perhaps the entire situation that followed could have been avoided. Perhaps their secret would have stayed safe for a little while longer. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… but they weren't there, and it happened regardless, and there was no point in wondering on what ifs.)

For the Elric brothers, what had previously been an ordinary day devolved into what Ed later called, that one moment when shit hit the fan. Which was a rather crude way to put it, as Al would say, but he did admit that it was an apt description.

"Hold on, they've been what?"

Ed couldn't believe his ears. For some reason, the words simply would not compute. His mind was stuck on an endless state of blank disbelief, layered with an undertone of horror at the sheer stupidity of some group of idiots' actions.

"Kidnapped," Maes replied, grim. "They were out at a bar after work, and eyewitnesses say they were pretty drunk by the end of it. I think Falman was the designated driver. Anyway, they left at around midnight, still together. Except, none of them made it back to their homes or the dorms. We found the car abandoned two miles away with the tires shot out, but no blood. Only evidence at the scene was the remains of Roy's gloves, along with some signs of a struggle."

Ed blinked, then scrubbed a hand down his face. "Well, fuck."

Al, alerted to the fact that something was wrong, got up from his seat across the dorm room and walked over. Somehow, he managed to adjust his body language to project concern, though to an inexperienced eye his demeanor wouldn't have appeared to change at all.

"What happened, Brother?" he inquired, giving Maes a polite nod.

"The Colonel and the rest of the team got kidnapped," Ed told him. "We're supposed to go help track them down."

"Kidnapped?" Al sounded quite alarmed at that. "By who?"

"We don't know," Maes sighed. It had only been three hours since they had found out and he was already exhausted. "Roy alone had a lot of enemies. He was probably the biggest target, and everyone else was taken as insurance. But the rain's washed away any trail, and probably most of the evidence to boot. We need you to help us figure out if it was an alchemist."

"Fine," Ed acquiesced. He was already moving to grab his coat while Al picked up an umbrella, which was large enough to cover both of them at the same time. "Have to go rescue the Bastard before he goes and gets himself killed, huh?"

Maes, ignoring the faint stutter of his heart at the thought of Roy killed, could only nod in gratitude. "There's a car out front," he said. "I'll brief you more thoroughly on the ride."

Ed and Al were kind enough to ignore the way he fingered his knives for the duration of the trip, the divulgence of their woefully bare amount of knowledge having taken a few minutes at most. Maes constantly had to remind himself to stay calm and professional, ignoring the fact that it was his best friend out there quite possibly hurt or even dead and what if they were already too late?

"Hey." Ed's voice cut through his thoughts, brusque yet enough to grab his attention.

Maes looked over at him, fingers consciously stilling. "Yes?"

Ed heaved a sigh, looking as if every word was being dragged out of him, but continued, "You're his friend, right? Don't worry. We'll find him."

Maes stared at him. Despite knowing, logically, that it was unlikely the Elrics would find anything their forensics team had not, the words were comforting all the same. For all that Ed could act like a petulant, immature child at times, he was still a genius and hadn't earned that State Alchemist's certification for nothing. Beyond that, he was more stubborn than an old mule when he got his teeth into something, and he'd never failed to complete a mission yet.

"Thank you," Maes said. And he meant it.

That seemed to be enough for Ed, who huffed and turned away to continue staring out the window. His expression was shuttered, inscrutable, and if it weren't for the way he tapped automail fingers on his knee Maes never would have seen a hint of Ed's nerves.

Not long after, they arrived at the scene of the crime. Ed and Al climbed out of the car and made a beeline towards the area, which had been cordoned off, with Maes following behind. They brothers got right to work as they walked around the scene, the other officers recognizing them on sight and allowing them in. Ed and Al seemed to be discussing something as they worked, but it was too quiet and the rain was too loud to make out what it was.

Watching from the sidelines, all Maes could do was hope, pray, and trust that the Elric brothers would get the job done.

"Elder Khalidah," Ed asked, "where did you say those suspicious new guys were camped out, again?"

The old woman pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "Why do you want to know, Zahir?"

Ed frowned, but admitted, "The Colonel and his team got kidnapped last night. The military doesn't have a clue who did it, but I remember those guys having an awful lot of guns and rope for refugees. And a convenient abandoned warehouse to camp out in. I just need to know which one it was."

"And you would go against Ishvalans in support of the Flame and the Hawk's Eye?" she questioned, tone shrewd. "Knowing that, if you do so, there is a good chance they will learn of your true heritage?"

Al shifted in his seat, armor clanking softly. Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath, having already made his decision. It wasn't that he was choosing Amestrians over Ishvalans, no, but…

Ed hated to admit it, but those guys had kinda grown on him. And Hughes, he was a good guy. He didn't deserve to have his friend killed. Even Mustang and Hawkeye, however tentatively, could be called allies of a sort. Not quite enemies, and Ed still wasn't sure if he liked them, except–

Mustang had given him a chance. Mustang was the entire reason he had the resources to search for the Philosopher's Stone, the entire reason he was the People's Alchemist and the entire reason he'd had the opportunity to connect with Ishvalans all over Amestris in the first place. Without Mustang, he would still be that lost little kid who'd grown up too fast, probably spending the rest of his life stuck in Resembool feeling sorry for himself. The idea of joining a military to help Al get his body back had given him a purpose. A goal. Something to work for, to push himself harder and become better in order to attain.

For that, at least, he owed Mustang a debt.

"I know the risks," Ed answered, keeping his tone carefully level. He knew the risks, that was for sure, and he accepted them. "And I'm not supporting the Flame over my own people. I am preventing our image from being further degraded by idiots who think that kidnapping an Amestrian war hero won't have consequences for the rest of us."

Elder Khalidah nodded in approval, sitting back on her cushion. "Well spoken," she said. "The newcomers had a camp by the warehouses on the river, just north of the old weapons factory. To be specific, number twenty-one."

"Thank you, Elder," Ed replied with a short bow.

On their way out of the settlement, Ed and Al were stopped by Asad. "Where are you going?" he questioned, arms folded and feet planted solidly in the path. It was as if he thought that standing in their way would stop them.

Ha. It wouldn't even slow them down.

"Work," Ed told him, short and to the point. He ducked around Asad and continued on, jaw set and stride determined.

"The military is in a frenzy." Asad kept pace, wide shoulders clearing a path as effectively as Al. "The Flame Alchemist and his crew have vanished, as the rumors say. Is that where you are headed?"

"What of it?" Ed growled. "Look, I know you hate him–"

"I'm coming with you," Asad interrupted.

At that, both brothers stopped short. "What did you say?"

"I'm coming with you," he repeated. "I won't let you do this alone."

Ed stared at him. "…You do realize you're still wanted for murdering State Alchemists and a bunch of other military officers, right? And it's not like we'll be alone. Al and I are a team."

Al nodded in agreement, gleaming metal in the light. All of a sudden the armor looked far more menacing than usual, looming head and shoulders above everyone else with studded spikes bristling. Onlookers were rather abruptly reminded that almost all of the Fullmetal Alchemist's missions were solo ones, Al as his partner and only backup.

Asad was unmoved. "If it is only you two alone," he countered, "then it would be too easy for them to claim that you've chosen Amestrians over Ishvalans. If I am with you, it makes it clear that the fault is theirs and theirs alone."

Ed huffed and looked away, grudgingly impressed by that bit of almost political thinking. When it was put like that, the man did have a point. Still, was it worth it? If Asad got caught, the military would execute him. They couldn't lose their only blood family, not again.

On the other hand, Asad was a good fighter. They could use that. And he'd had a point, before. With him, it would be clear that the idiot kidnappers didn't represent all Ishvalans, only themselves. Considering that it was two war heroes, one of which was among the most famous State Alchemists in the country along with his most trusted soldiers who'd gotten kidnapped, the public was going to go beserk. If it got out, of course– there was always the chance that the military would cover it up to ensure that they still appeared invincible to the public.

"Brother, it wouldn't hurt to have backup," Al said, and just like that Ed's resolve crumbled.

"Fine, then. C'mon, let's get this over with," Ed grumbled, and headed for the river.

To their credit, they did attempt to use stealth. Attempt being the operative word, given that one of them had two metal limbs, one of them was made entirely of metal, and the last one wasn't exactly stealthy by nature. Quiet and stern and having about as much facial expression as a rock, yes, but stealthy? Not at all.

As such, it was no real surprise when things started exploding and the plan went out the metaphorical window twenty minutes in.

"I told you this would happen, Brother," Al sighed as he punched one of the guards into a wall. "Our plans never work on the first try."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Ed scowled, kicking another guard in the face. "You were right, I probably should've seen this coming."

Asad slammed his palm into the ground, blue lightning making the ground heave in an artificial earthquake. The rain was to their advantage, then, lowering visibility enough to ensure that their opponents' guns were all but useless. Every bullet was either wildly off target or, if it came too close, blocked by Al.

"You speak as if this is a regular occurrence," he grumbled. The weather, Ed suspected, was making him irritable. Though, to be fair, almost nobody liked fighting in the rain. "Do your plans ever work?"

"They do, just– not always," Ed defended. "Ah, shut up. Things always work out in the end." Clapping his hands, he rusted one man's gun into a useless mass of corrosion.

"That's true," Al agreed. "And this is pretty tame, all things considered. I mean, Brother hasn't even destroyed any buildings yet!"

Asad could only roll his eyes and keep fighting. These two, he decided, not for the first time, are crazy.

Inside the warehouse, Mustang and his team lay bound and gagged on the floor. Pacing in front of them was a tall Ishvalan man with scars all over and a very large gun, which they eyed with trepidation as he swung it around to articulate his points. He was detailing all the things he was going to do to them in the name of revenge, which, to be honest, had gotten old ten minutes ago.

Then, as if to answer the soldiers' prayers, the dull drone of the man's monologue blending with the rain on the roof was interrupted. A boom shattered the otherwise monotonous sounds, followed by distant yelling, gunfire, and the distinct metallic ping of bullets rebounding off metal.

Roy swung his head around to stare at the doors, eyes narrowed. That sound, he could swear he recognized it… but from where?

Their kidnappers shifted on their feet, a few looking out with uneasy expressions. The ringleader paused, turned to snap out a few orders in Ishvalan, but otherwise looked unconcerned. Instead of going back to monologuing, though, he gave his men a few other instructions, and they moved to haul the Amestrian soldiers to their feet. Roy gritted his teeth against the gag when the Ishvalans handled him none too gently, cursing how he hadn't yet had time to finish etching his array with a nail onto the floor beneath him. If he'd only had a few more minutes, he could have freed himself and they could have escaped!

The sounds of fighting drew nearer. Previous escape plan rendered useless, the soldiers did all they could to stall. It sounded as if people were there to rescue them, but it would all be for nothing if they weren't there any longer.

Roy managed to headbutt the leader in the jaw, knocking them back as he heard their teeth snap together with a sharp click. Riza dug fingernails into one man's arm and twisted, prompting a sharp yelp of pain. Havoc managed to grind his heel into his captor's toes while Breda simply dropped like a stone (dragging them down with him) and refused to move, prompting them to swear profusely at him in Ishvalan. Falman thrashed, kicking at kneecaps hard enough to bruise. Fuery tried to use his small size to twist out of the solid grip they had on his arms and plant a shoulder in their gut, but only succeeded halfway.

Problem was, they had all been drugged several hours before, and the chemicals were still in their systems. The concoctions had made movements slow and sluggish, thoughts vaguely disjointed, and focus difficult. It was a wonder the soldiers could resist as much as they did, really, though it only served to make their kidnappers impatient and more rough.

Then an entire wall blew out with a thunderous roar and a cascade of alchemical energy, sending everyone to the ground.

Three shapes leapt through the hole where the wall had been and threw themselves into battle. By the time the kidnappers had recovered enough to fight back the newcomers were on them, alchemy flashing and the wind whipped around a crimson coat like a banner and hold on those were the Elric brothers!

If he wasn't gagged, Roy's jaw would have dropped when he saw their companion. Scar, his destructive alchemy wreaking as much chaos as ever, tore up the ground and laid out his opponents flat with devastating hits. This time, however, he appeared to be fighting with the Elrics, against the other Ishvalans. What in the world was going on?!

There was a sudden pressure on his wrists and Roy, attention drawn away from the fight, whipped around in preparation for an attack. But it wasn't an enemy, it was Riza, who had somehow freed herself in the confusion and was sawing through Roy's bound wrists with a small penknife.

"We need to get out of here," she said as she tore Roy's gag off and tossed him an extra pair of ignition gloves. He didn't know where she had been hiding those but he didn't question it as he pulled them on. Riza was already moving to free the rest of the team, a stolen pistol tucked into her waistband and expression as determined and professional as ever.

God, but did he love her.

"Holy shit, Boss looks pissed," Havoc whispered, awestruck as he grabbed a rifle off one of the fallen kidnappers. "And is that Scar?"

Fuery had the oddest expression on his face when Breda helped him to his feet, eyes glued on the fight and looking as if he was torn between horror and… an interesting lack of shock, considering the situation. Falman just seemed nervous, knees almost buckling as he handled a pistol with faintly trembling hands.

After what felt like an instant the fight was over, having been more of a rout than anything else. Surprised mercenaries had nothing on either Edward or Alphonse Elric when they were angry, and both of them combined? The kidnappers didn't stand a chance.

"Ed," Roy rasped, voice hoarse. The drugs were making him slightly dizzy, which was annoying, but he shook it off and tried not to sway on his feet. "Ed!"

It wasn't Ed who responded, but Al, who broke away from where Ed and Scar (he still didn't understand why they seemed to be working together, why in the world were they working together) and ran over to the Amestrians.

"Are you okay?" Al called, sounding worried. "You guys don't look very good, we should get you to a hospital."

Behind him, the ringleader had crumpled under a blow to the head from an automail fist. Scar looked murderous, like he was about to return to his killing spree right then and there. Ed was, of all things… talking him down?

"Um." Breda cleared his throat, wide-eyed and pale. "What's Scar doing here?"

Al tensed, joints locking, but didn't reply. "We should get you to a hospital," he repeated, "I think there's a payphone just a few streets down we can use–"

Roy stumbled back, choking on the arm around his windpipe. One of the men previously thought unconscious apparently wasn't so unconscious after all, and he'd just gotten the bright idea of using Roy as a hostage to facilitate his escape.

"Let me go or I kill him!" the man yelled in accented Amestrian. To the Elric brothers, he spat another phrase in harsh Ishvalan, something that made Al reel back like he'd been physically struck.

Well, fuck, Roy thought.

The rush of his blood and his pulse in his ears felt too loud to Ed. It took him a second to realize that his fists were shaking, anger roiling in his gut because he owed Mustang, owed him a debt that hadn't yet been repaid and he would not allow the man to die here!

"Let him go," Ed hissed, low and venomous in his native tongue. The word traitor rebounded throughout his mind, the way the other Ishvalan had spit it out like it was something rotten and vile.

The kidnapper's face twisted in rage, one hand pressing a gun to Mustang's head. "He is the Flame, the scourge of our people!" he snarled, finger poised on the trigger. "He deserves far worse than death for what he has done!"

"You idiot, think!" Ed took a step forward but kept on eye on the soldiers at his back. He knew they were watching, he knew that there was no going back now but he didn't care, not anymore, he was sick and tired of hiding enough was enough. "What happens if he dies? All of Amestris will be out for your blood! They see him as a war hero!"

That made the man falter, grip momentarily going slack before it tightened again. "What would you know? You're a traitor to us, standing with the Amestrians. You defile the earth with your cursed alchemy, obey the military's every order like the lowly dog you are. What would you know of the Ishvalan people, half-breed child? You don't even look like us!"

At that, Ed came close to whiting out with pure, unadulterated fury. How dare this man say that he was not Ishvalan? How dare he?

"I have more right to claim Ishvalan blood than you scum," Ed growled. "You know nothing of my reasons for working with the military. You cannot judge something you do not understand!"

"He burned my family alive!" the man cried, and there was something terribly tragic and simultaneously desperate in his tone. "He turned them into ashes and smears on the wall and there was nothing left, nothing at all, because the Flame had burned it! How can you stand here and call yourself one of us when you would defend him?"

Ed gritted his teeth and ignored the part of him that agreed, that wanted to see Mustang suffer (just like his people, retribution for the survivors who bore scars and fire-warped bodies and would never be whole again) and didn't let the hurt show on his face. Because, though he knew it wasn't, it sort of did feel like a betrayal. Not by much, honestly, because the kidnapper really was scum (mercenaries had a reputation) but… enough. Enough to make him feel guilt, give him half a beat of pause.

Before he could reply, however, there was a blur of movement, a shocked cry, and then the man was lying in a senseless heap on the floor. Mustang staggered, wheezing, as his team surged forward to surround him and Asad turned the kidnapper's fallen gun into scrap.

"You listen," Asad rumbled, low and menacing as he lifted the still-conscious kidnapper up by his collar. "Zahir is more a man than you'll ever be. I'll thank you to think twice before insulting one of my blood again." With that said, Asad knocked him out with a swift blow to the temple and dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. His expression was twisted into one of distaste, and he wiped his hand on his shirt like he'd handled garbage.

Ed fell back, almost stumbling. Al caught him, let him lean against solid armor and catch his breath. He didn't want to look at the soldiers, didn't want to see their faces. Didn't want to see Mustang or Hawkeye, because they'd all heard him shout those things in the language of the desert and there was nothing he could do to take them back. He'd been prepared for the risks, he'd known that this would happen he'd been ready for it. Just– maybe not as much as he'd thought he was.

"I'm sorry, Al," he muttered. "I know this isn't how you wanted us to tell them."

"Brother. It's okay," Al sighed. "It had to happen sooner or later, and at least this way it was by choice. Don't listen to anything that idiot said. You are Zahir, eldest son of the house of Elrikh, and you are my brother. Only a fool would claim otherwise."

Asad moved to stand beside them, still rain-drenched and scowling. "We should go," he said. "The military have surely been alerted to our position."

"Wait," Ed replied. "I need to do something first."

However much he didn't want to, Edward Elric had never been one for running away. He faced his problems head-on, with steel in his spine and iron in his blood. He was a child of Ishvala, firstborn son of his line, and he did not back down. He could not, because far too often it was just him and Al against the world, where even a moment of weakness would let the wolves attack.

Squaring his shoulders, Ed turned, and looked the Amestrian soldiers in the eye.

…Huh, he noted. Fuery doesn't really look all that surprised.

Which could not be said for the rest of them, really. Havoc looked like he'd have to scrape his jaw off the ground, while Breda swayed on his feet with face distinctly paler than normal. Though, now that he looked closely, Ed realized that the reason behind that could have been drugs. Falman's expression was inscrutable, but his hands were fisted tightly at his sides.

Hawkeye's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly parted with horrified understanding written all over. It was the most expression Ed had ever seen from her before, which was a bit alarming. She held a pistol in one hand but kept it pointed at the ground, which he took to be a good sign.

Mustang, though… he was the worst off, physically as well. There was a cut over his eye that was slowly oozing blood, his jacket was missing altogether, and the arm of his shirt was torn half-off. He was staring at Ed as if his entire worldview had just been turned sideways and inside-out and he didn't know what he was supposed to think. Above all, however, was such an intense look of guilt that Ed honestly hadn't expected.

(Good, a part of him thought, vicious and cruel and vindictive. Be guilty. You killed my people, you burned our home, you deserve to drown in it–)

"Thank you," Fuery blurted out, and his voice made Ed jolt because that was Ishvalan. Fuery was speaking in Ishvalan, how could he know that language, had he known all along? There had been that note from his friends, he'd translated that fairly accurately, but Ed had heard him say that he couldn't really speak it well.

"You speak our language," Al exclaimed, stunned. "We thought you just knew how to read some of it; we didn't realize you spoke this well!" Albeit with a rather thick Amestrian accent, but still.

Fuery shrugged, sheepish. "My friends… they're half-Ishvalan too," he revealed. "I only figured out you two pretty recently, though." He ducked his head a bit. "Sorry for not saying anything earlier. I thought it wasn't really my place."

Ed stared at him for a moment, pieces connecting in his head, before realization slammed into place. "You're Fahd, Sabah, and Saqr's Amestrian contact?!"

Fuery looked startled. "I– yes. How did you know?"

Ed swallowed. "We've never met, but they pass a lot of information along. And… everyone always said that they liked Amestrians. More so than most." Which hadn't earned them a lot of friends, but they had stayed true to their roots and always knew where to find places willing to give even an Ishvalan a chance. Or so the rumors said, at any rate.

"That's probably my fault," Fuery admitted. "We've known each other ever since we were kids. And their father is the owner of a big railroad company."

As in, they'd probably never had to live in the slums or go hungry with a rich Amestrian parent. Question was, how had Fuery come to know them? Ed had so many questions, but there was too much that they still had to do.

"Al was right, you guys should get to a hospital. We're definitely talking later, though," Ed sighed, remembering that he couldn't get sidetracked when the people he'd come to rescue were still mostly drugged and almost certainly not unharmed.

Besides, now that he listened, he could hear faint sirens wailing over the sound of the rain. The military was on its way, help was on its way, and–

Remembering that Asad was still there, Ed jerked his head at the back door and hissed, "You need to go. You can't be seen here."

Asad didn't move. "You will be safe?"

"We'll be fine," Al assured him, standing beside Ed. "We can handle them."

Staying for a moment longer, Asad gave a short, sharp nod before throwing a ferocious glare at the Amestrians. "If you hurt them–"

"Holy shit, just go!" Ed groaned, slapping a hand over his face. "This is not the time for your overprotective tendencies!"

Hearing the sirens as acutely as Ed, the Ishvalan man frowned before moving out the back door. Leaving Ed and Al alone with Mustang, his team, and a warehouse full of unconscious mercenaries.

Looking around at all the chaos, listening to the sound of the approaching military, Ed thought fast. Now, how do I spin this to blame only these particular Ishvalans…

"Thank you," Al said, hours later, "for not telling them."

Mustang shifted, trying to get comfortable in the hospital bed. The entire team had been kept there until the drugs wore off, as the doctor wanted to make sure that there were no side effects. Maes had just left after making a very dramatic scene of how worried he was, and how devastated Elicia would have been if she'd known her favorite uncle was in danger. The Elrics, on the other hand, had disappeared as paramedics drove the team to the hospital and had only showed up again twenty minutes previous.

"You know," he said in lieu of responding, "I could have sworn that Van Hohenheim was Amestrian."

"We're half," Ed replied, arms crossed over his chest. "Our mother was Ishvalan."

"Huh." Mustang cast a searching glance over the brothers, lingering on Ed's hair and eyes. "You don't look Ishvalan."

"Like I said," Ed shrugged, "half."

Despite his calm tone, Ed stood as rigid and stiff as a board. Mustang was no better, shoulders tensed up and fingers curled into his palms. The tension in the room lay thick and heavy like an oncoming storm, ready to break at any moment.

Mustang's jaw worked. "…I'm sorry."

"What?" Ed blinked.

"I'm sorry," Mustang repeated, hands clenching, every line of his body practically screaming repentance. "What I did in Ishval– I probably won't ever be able to make up for it. I'm sorry."

The only thing Ed could do was stare at him, temporarily struck speechless. He didn't know what to think. Emotions twisted up inside like tangled fishing nets, virtually impossible to unknot or figure out what to do with. He'd known that Mustang felt guilty, he'd known that, so why-?

Why did hearing him apologize for it make Ed feel guilty himself?

"You're not a bad man, Colonel," Al spoke up, and Ed was shocked to realize that Al meant it. "You regret it. That isn't enough for some of us, but–" he paused, then, head lowering. "You've been trying to pay back your sins ever since, haven't you."

It wasn't a question. Ed gaped, then berated himself for forgetting that his little brother was so observant. Al's personality was much calmer in contrast to Ed; if it weren't for the suit of armor he would've almost always been eclipsed. And, while Ed might have understood people, Al was the one who really connected with them. He noticed the little things, had a sense of extreme empathy that Ed sometimes… lacked. It wasn't that Ed didn't care, he just, well, didn't quite know how to deal with them as Al did. He'd never bothered to learn.

But Al had. Al was the one who usually smoothed things over with the townspeople whenever Ed caused too much property damage. Al was the one who was always there, as steady and strong as ever. He was Ed's rock, his support, his brother. Really, Ed didn't know what he'd do without Al. (Fall into a self-destructive spiral, probably.)

And Mustang… yeah, Al was right. He wasn't a bad person. Not a nice one, not easy to deal with or handle, but… he wasn't bad. Not in the same way that people like Cornello or Shou Tucker had been.

"You're too nice," Mustang snorted with a wry twist of his lips. "It'll never be enough."

He looked as if the emotional discussion was physically paining him, which, considering his normal secretive nature, might've been quite possible. Ed wouldn't put it past him. Truth be told, though, Ed was starting to feel the same way.

"The team can keep a secret," Mustang said, abruptly switching topics. "They won't tell anyone. Not if you don't want them to. I won't, either."

Ed quirked a brow. "Not even Hughes?"

"I can keep secrets from him, you know," Mustang drawled, driving the conversation closer to familiar territory. "We're not joined at the hip."

Ed and Al exchanged glances. "…You can tell him," Ed relented after a few seconds. "But only him. And only because he's Intelligence, and we're pretty sure he was close to figuring it out soon anyways."

Mustang thought back to a meeting in a bar, words too casual to be anything but suspicious, and agreed.

"Okay," he replied, not bothering to hide his relief. "I'll tell Hughes."

Roy held it together for exactly twenty-three minutes after the Elric brothers left before having something he hadn't had in years: a panic attack.

"Holy shit Roy, are you okay?" Maes sat down on the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees. "I mean, I was in Ishval too. And all along, they were– oh, man. I wouldn't be okay." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew. "Seriously, how are you?"

Roy didn't even try to shade the truth. "I don't understand why they don't hate me."

Maes winced. His glasses were crooked, but he didn't seem to notice. "At least you're being honest."

"Al said– he said that I wasn't a bad man," Roy blurted out. "I don't– why did he say that?"

Maes thought very carefully about how to phrase his response. The problem with Roy was that he tended to blame himself for a great many things, even when they were not entirely his fault. When the guilt became too much, he would then descend into a downward spiral of self-destruction. Maes remembered how things had been after the Ishval Civil War, and he had no wish for those days to return.

Roy also didn't think very highly of himself as a person. Not what one would suspect given his public persona, but the man's actual ego would probably fill a teacup. Oh, Roy knew that he was smart, clever, and ambitious, but he didn't think that he was a good person. Good at fighting, good at politics, but little else.

"He said that," Maes replied, "because he believed it. He's an Elric, after all. Moreover, he's Ed's brother. You think either of them would say things like that if they didn't mean it?"

Maes could see that he'd chosen the right words because Roy got a thoughtful look on his face. Good. Present him with enough facts and the logic would be undeniable. First: the Elric brothers were scarily smart. They (or at least Ed) were also quite outspoken about their opinions.

"But they did hate me," Roy said, hesitant. "In the beginning. Or at least they really didn't like me."

Maes thought back to twin glares and cold shoulders, Ed milking every bit of his young age to act as sullen and irritable as he could. Temper tantrums and shouting matches had been his armor, Maes now realized, and when had those somehow become less like small wars and more like practiced sparring? Like they were just going through the routine because they wanted to and not out of any real ire?

"Maybe at first," Maes had to agree, "but not now. Think about it, Roy. When was the last time he insulted you and really, honestly believed it? And I know you can read him like a book, so don't try and delude yourself into anything."

Roy didn't reply, but Maes could just about see the gears turning.

"Look," Maes continued, "you're not wrong to think that they have a right to hate you. They have a right to hate me, as well– I was in Ishval too, after all. But they don't. What did you say Al said to you, again? 'You've been trying to pay back your sins ever since'? They get that. Because they understand."

"…I suppose," Roy conceded. "Paying back sins, indeed."

The two shared a brief moment of silence, each thinking back to the circumstances that had led to Al getting his soul bonded to a suit of armor and Ed losing half his limbs. One of the worst kinds of taboo in alchemy, Maes recalled. Which was how Roy had described it, along with many more details that Maes really hadn't needed (or wanted) to know on the consequences. From what he understood of it, the Elric brothers had gotten off light.

"Well, this does explain a lot about them," Maes said, deliberately allowing his thoughts to wander off the subject. Roy's issues were best handled in concentrated doses over a certain period of time. He needed rest breaks in between to recover from dealing with so much emotion at once. And, now that logic had been applied, Maes knew that Roy could begin working through things on his own. "Did you know Ed told Elicia this story a few weeks ago when we got him and Al to come over? Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was Ishvalan. Elicia loved it."

"Oh?" Roy asked, raising a brow. "I can't quite imagine Fullmetal as a storyteller."

Maes grinned. "He managed it pretty well, actually. Said it was something his mom used to tell them."

Roy made a noise of understanding. "Ah, no wonder." He tilted his head a bit, considering. "Did you know that Fuery can speak Ishvalan? And he's got a few Ishvalan friends who have apparently been teaching him for years. They send him coded messages. And he counts as their Amestrian contact."

"Really?" Maes perked up. "That's interesting." A part of him wondered how he'd missed something clearly big about the younger soldier. He was Intelligence, darn it. He should have known! "How'd you find that out?"

Roy shrugged. "I knew about the code because he recruited the whole office to help crack one once. But I didn't know about the rest of it until he told me."

"Huh." Maes pondered that for a moment. "Who would've thought. Guess your kids keep more secrets than anyone realized, huh?"

Roy nodded. Then exact recognition of what Maes had said caught up to him and he yelped indignantly, "Hold on! They're not my kids!"

Maes grinned with unholy glee. "I dunno, Roy…" he teased, "I mean, have you seen the way Fuery looks up to you? And you're not getting any younger, you know. You should just ask Riza out already!"

"Maes!" Roy groaned, and his friend laughed.

The door opened.

Ed, hair sleep-mussed and eyes half-lidded, looked up at the early morning visitor with a bleary expression. And kept looking up.

"Why," he said, tone utterly flat.

Major Armstrong sparkled. "I have just returned from visiting my sister," he boomed in what felt like a far too obnoxiously cheerful manner, "up in Fort Briggs!"

Ed stared at him. "Major," he said, "it is five in the goddamned morning."

Behind him, armor clanked. "Brother? What is Major Armstrong doing here?"

"I have no idea, but I do not have nearly enough sleep to deal with this. Come back later," Ed told Armstrong, and closed the door in his face.

Al gave off a vague air of disapproval. "That was a bit rude."

Ed shrugged, yawned, and slumped back to bed. "If you really want I'll apologize later. For now, sleep." With that, he flopped face-first onto the mattress and resumed snoring.

…Well, it wasn't as if Al could really fault Ed for that. They'd both had an exhausting time handling the press, the Ishvalans, and the military. If Al had still had a body, he probably would have been just as physically tired and irritable as his brother. As it was, all he wanted was some nice, quiet meditation time. Without anyone else breathing down his neck. And maybe some soothing music.

Still, what was he supposed to do about the man outside the door?

When in doubt, ask politely, Al thought as he walked across the room and opened the door. Major Armstrong was still standing outside, sparkling as brightly as ever.

"Major," Al greeted, "sorry for Ed; the past few days have been… long. Really long. What did you need?"

"Is it not enough that I simply felt the urge to visit?" Armstrong proclaimed. "I admit, I had not considered the timing, which I apologize for, but I have also heard of your heroics! Is it true that you rescued the Colonel and his team single-handedly?"

Al stared at him. "Well, it's not really single-handedly if Brother and I both worked together."

"Still, how amazing for ones as young as yourselves!" Armstrong continued. Then, he paused, and admitted, "I also had an ulterior motive for visiting, however."

"Oh?" Al tilted his head a bit, curious. "What is it?"

"Well," Armstrong rubbed his chin, "Major Miles of Fort Briggs mentioned that he would be interested in meeting the two of you if you ever venture up to the North. As he's one of the soldiers under my sister's command, I thought I could pass the message along."

"Ah," Al replied, mind whirring. Who was Major Miles? And, the North? That was where Asad had said that his brother's notes were hidden… "Thank you for letting me know. I'll tell Brother when he wakes up."

Armstrong beamed.

The office had never been so tense.

"…So, um… how exactly does the alchemist thing work?" Breda ventured after the silence became nearly too much. "I thought that was against your religion or something…?"

Ed scowled. "It is. But we're not really that religious."

"Not–? I thought everyone was?" Havoc asked, both curious and cautious all at once.

Ed shrugged. "We're not exactly normal Ishvalans," he pointed out, and ignored the way the other men twitched when he said it. Heh. If the conversation hadn't been so delicate, that would've been pretty funny.

Al joined the conversation. "Our mother was never the most devout," he said, "and we've always believed more in science than anything else."

"Oh." Havoc lit another cigarette, keeping his hands occupied. He seemed at loss for what to say after that.

Awkward silence returned.

Ed looked around the room, sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "We're not going to kill you or anything," he bluntly informed them. "You don't need to treat us any differently, y'know."

Breda twitched again. "You're not angry with us?"

"For what?" Ed raised a brow. "You weren't in Ishval. And any moral scruples I had with the military I got over ages ago." Which was mostly true. Any moral scruples he hadn't been able to get over… well, there was a reason he had a reputation as a troublemaker. Sometimes the rules needed to be bent, and sometimes they needed to be tossed out the window. Thanks to his mission record and reputation, nobody had ever bothered to quibble about his methods.

Unfortunately, they didn't quite look as if they believed that. Except for Fuery, who only nodded in understanding and went back to his paperwork. Ed supposed that Fuery had probably had time to come to terms with it for a while, since he'd apparently figured the Elrics out months ago.

And neither of us even realized, Ed thought. Damn. Never thought that Fuery of all people was so good at keeping secrets.

Ed tipped his chair to two legs, wobbling for a moment before falling back onto four with a quiet thump. He still had to finish half a stack of paperwork, which was admittedly quite little in comparison to the piles on everyone else's desks, but he'd been sitting still for what felt like forever. Mind wandering, he remembered something from that morning, and figured that it was a good a time to figure it out as any.

"Hey," he asked into the hush, "any of you know a Major Miles? Up in Fort Briggs?"

A round of puzzled expressions followed.

"Oh well," he sighed. I guess tracking down military records it is.

Mustang, when informed that Ed had been asking about a "Major Miles" (familiar, but he couldn't quite place who) in Fort Briggs, nearly choked on his water.

"Wait," he demanded, "what in the world does Fullmetal want there?"

Ed waited until Winry was in a good mood to drop the bomb.

"So," he said, watching her fiddle with some new automail tool that she'd come out to the city to buy, "Mustang and his group know that Al and I are Ishvalan."

Winry nodded absentmindedly, just as she had to everything that either brother had said for the past hour. For another minute she continued to examine the tool, poking and prodding and all but disassembling it herself.

Then, she went still, realization breaking across her face as the words processed.

"Hold on a second," she said, stunned, "they what?!"

"They know that we're Ishvalan," Al replied.

Winry put down the tool, pulling out a wrench. "You told them? Why?!"

Ed sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Well, it wasn't like we had much of a choice…"

Swiveling on her chair, Winry pinned the brothers with one sharp, commanding Look. "Explain. Now."

Al resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. "Well, it started when the Colonel and his men got kidnapped."

"We ended up getting assigned to rescue them," Ed continued, "and, uh. Turned out they got kidnapped for a revenge thing by a bunch of Ishvalan mercenaries. We ended up fighting them. As usual." Any mention of Asad was omitted, as he was still a wanted serial killer. They would have to do something about that.

"One of them tried to take the Colonel as a shield to get away," Al explained. "He, um. Insulted Brother a lot." Leather creaked as his hands fisted. "We couldn't let him get away with that."

Ed grimaced. "I kind of just– snapped. I couldn't take it. Started yelling back in Ishvalan, and then…" he shook his head. "Yeah."

Winry winced. "How did they take it? Well, I'm assuming, since you're still here."

"Not too bad," Ed agreed. "I mean, it could have been better– they're still walking on eggshells around us and it's starting to get annoying –but it could have been a lot worse, too."

Winry stared at the two, let out a long-suffering sigh, and told them, "I really hope you know what you're doing, you know. You guys are crazy." She knocked Ed with her wrench for good measure, though lightly.

Ducking, Ed cracked a grin. "Says you, automail freak."

"Alchemy nut."

"Gearhead."

"Stupid genius who can never stay in one piece."

The brothers laughed, Winry laughing with them, and somehow it felt as if they were ten times lighter.

Ed clapped his hands, blue lightning crackling over a bucket of dirty water. All its impurities were transmuted out in one nasty-looking solid chunk, which Al fished out and tossed aside with one hand while deftly sliding the bucket to a waiting Ishvalan with the other. Ed grabbed another bucket and did the same thing, steadily working his way through a long row.

"That's enough," Elder Khalidah said when the line finally ran out. "Don't hurt yourself."

Ed straightened, feeling joints pop and pointedly ignoring them. "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, Elder. I'm not old like you."

"Brat." She tapped the back of his head, heedless of his snickering. "What happened to respecting your elders?"

Grinning, Ed leaned away from another tap and threw out a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're incorrigible," she scolded, though without any real heat to it. Sobering, she asked, "Military been giving you any trouble?"

Ed paused, halfway through slipping white gloves back over his hands. He'd taken them off earlier to keep them clean– this was the third set he'd had to fix in as many weeks, and he wanted them to last. Considering his line of work, he'd be lucky if they lasted a month. At Elder Khalidah's question, he stopped and… thought.

"No," he replied after a moment. "They've been surprisingly good about the whole thing, actually. Hasn't changed much. I think it helps that they're all pretty open-minded for Amestrians, especially for soldiers. And they can keep secrets."

"No regrets?" she pressed.

Thinking on it a little more, Ed decided, "Nah. Not really. Things on that front worked out surprisingly well."

The Elder made a pleased-sounding hum. "Good." She patted his shoulder, and reached up to do the same for Al. "I'm glad."

The brothers looked around at their people– their family –and agreed.

"Yeah," they told her, "so are we."