Intertwined

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/M, M/M
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, Alphonse Elric/Winry Rockbell, Gracia
Hughes/Maes Hughes, Edward Elric & Greed, Maes Hughes & Roy
Mustang, Jean Havoc/Riza Hawkeye
Characters: Edward Elric, Roy Mustang, Alphonse Elric, Winry Rockbell, Maes
Hughes, Gracia Hughes, Elicia Hughes, Jean Havoc, Riza Hawkeye,
Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist), King Bradley, Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Core Bonding, Politics, Slow Burn, Torture
Language: English
Collections: Top 10%, Good_fics_will_it_update_or_finish, Gifts from Literature
Deities
Stats: Published: 2018-05-18 Updated: 2020-08-05 Words: 182,661 Chapters:
33/?
 Intertwined
by BloodyWar2411

Summary

Edward Elric had one of the rarest Cores in the world, but no one could know that. Roy
Mustang had one of the only Cores in the world that Ed could bond with, but he was a
bastard with a god-complex. Now, because of said bastard and the military's insistence that
the academy was important, they have to live together for two months.

Ed had survived worse though... right?

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed found out he had a Core the same day his father left.

He remembered waking up and running into the kitchen with the words, “I’m an alchemist”
on his lips. He remembered the pride and the joy. He even remembered reveling in the new
warmth in his chest. Then he saw his mom clutching a crumpled note at the kitchen table,
sobbing, and all those ecstatic feelings turned to dust.

Ed felt the betrayal of his father’s abandonment, but not the sorrow. His father was always on
the road for research or locked in his study. Being gone forever shouldn’t have been any
different.

(Except, of course, for the way his mom and Al cried.)

They stared at the door sometimes, waiting for nothing, then fell apart when nothing came.
Ed tried to cheer them up with jokes and games, but the hole his father had left was too big
for him to fill. He avoided telling his mom about his Core for two weeks out of fear that it
would remind her of his father. And when his secret finally came out, she did cry. Just not for
the reasons he expected.

There were no mentions of his father or joyful congratulations. Only warning. She said, “I’m
so sorry, baby, but you can’t tell anyone. Your Core is one of the most special Cores in the
world, and bad people will come for you if they find out. Do you understand?”

He hadn’t understood, but he nodded anyway. “Can I tell Al?”

“When he’s older. Until then, you’ve got weak Energy Steel Core, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you say it for me?”

“I’ve got a weak Energy Steel Core.”

She hugged him again, tears soaking through his shirt, and that time, it was Ed who
apologized.

Two years passed before he understood what his mother had meant. He was eight and reading
a book from his father’s study when he first came across the words “Energy Fire Core.” The
book said alchemists with Energy Fire Cores were handicapped. While every other Core in
existence only needed a general Activation-Energy pair to bond, Energy Fire Cores could
only bond with Activation Fire Cores. On top of that, they rarely made strong alchemists, and
the only benefit the Core provided was a significant power boost to whomever they bonded
with.
Even as young as he was, Ed knew there weren’t a lot of Activation Fire Cores in the world.
He also knew the ones he’d heard about weren’t nice people. They held positions of power,
and they did things that made his mom wad up the newspaper and throw it into the fire. As
far as the book was concerned, Energy Fire Cores were little more than accessories to be used
by the better and more powerful.

After reading that book, Ed did three very important things. First, he told Al about his Core.
He could keep hiding it from everyone else in the world, but not his brother. Second, he
started reading. If a book mentioned alchemic theory of any kind, Ed devoured it. Even if his
Core did turn out to be weak, his mind would be strong. He could make up the difference.
Finally, he practiced. Every day was a new circle and a new connection. Al had loved
watching him and eventually helping out, once his Activation Steel Core revealed itself.
Their mom had loved the little trinkets they made. And Ed, despite the curveball of his
father’s departure and his own inconvenient Core, had been happy again.

Then their mother got sick.

It’d just been a sniffle at first. A cup of chamomile tea, a nap, and she’d felt better. The cough
was harder to get rid of. It rattled her in her lungs and shook her shoulders day and night.
With the cough came a fever, and no amount of cold water soothed her. She couldn’t hold
down food. She couldn’t sleep. Granny Pinako and Winry brought them dinner more often
than not.

A doctor came and went with a shake of his head. None of Ed’s books said anything about
healing sick people. Al fell asleep in tears by their mom’s bed while Ed tried to sell the toys
he’d made so they could buy another, better doctor. Their mom coughed up blood and
hallucinated their father, saying she still loved him.

She died.

Her absence was a hole in Ed’s heart. He cried for a full week after she passed, then squared
his shoulder and stepped up. No matter how much he wanted to curl into a ball and sob the
days away, Al needed him. And Ed needed his mother.

He started researching human transmutation. The books all said it was impossible and illegal,
but books had also said Ed was going to be weak. They gathered the materials in the
basement, drew the circle as carefully as they could, and brought their mom back.

Only it wasn’t their mom, and the price wasn’t set. He felt the Gate a moment before it
appeared and shoved Al out of the circle. The Gate, in turn, tore Ed’s arm and leg from his
body. Al screamed in terror. Ed screamed in pain.

Granny Pinako never asked them what happened. She gave Ed experimental new limbs called
automail, which acted as the perfect reminder of how close he’d come to losing Al. They
stayed with the Rockbells while Ed learned how to walk and hold a pencil again. Then the
mortgage notices came. Granny Pinako said it wasn’t anything to worry about, but he saw the
way she poured over papers when she thought they were asleep.
That was when he heard about the upcoming State Alchemists’ exam. The lack of age limit.
The money. Al begged him not to go, but what other choice did they have? Continue being a
burden until the Rockbells lost their house and business? Ed was determined to take the test.
Al was determined to come with him.

They burned their house down and left.

The Tuckers housed them while they studied. Ed passed the interview, the written exam, the
physical exam, and won-out in the alchemic competition. He no longer needed a circle to
perform alchemy. The proctors tested his power levels using an out-of-date Core reader and
took him at his word on Core type.

Around the same time, Shou Tucker combined his daughter Nina and her dog Alexander into
a chimera, which later ended up splattered against a wall. Ed’s new bosses called him in,
interrogated him on what he knew about the Tuckers, and politely informed him that his main
duty as a State Alchemist would be to travel the country killing the same things Nina had
turned into. The news of his future hurt him—terrified him—but he didn’t see another way.

He gave Al a choice between staying in the dorms or living with the Rockbells. Al fought and
screamed and cried, demanding to accompany Ed, but Ed refused to budge. Ed wasn’t sure
he’d be able to protect himself, let alone his precious younger brother.

In the end, Al lived in the dorms while Ed traveled. The majority of Ed’s paychecks (aside
from the money it took to cover damages) were used on Al’s education or sent to Granny
Pinako for bills. If there was any left over, it went into savings. Ed called it his rainy day
fund, but the truth was that he thought he would die and Al might need more than whatever
the military was willing to shell out in compensation.

The State called him the Fullmetal Alchemist. The citizens called him The Alchemist of the
People. Ed counted down the days until his contract would run out, allowing him to ditch
both titles. Of course, nothing was ever that easy. Two years from his termination date, the
State froze his contract and demanded he attend Central’s Academy for Alchemists.

As a general rule, the State didn’t care when their alchemists attended the academy so long as
they did eventually attend. They claimed Ed’s young age and lack of technical schooling
made him a special case. Ed cursed and spit and yelled, but there was nothing he could do
about it.

He took a placement test that put him high above the high school level and enrolled in as
many college classes as physically possible. Al considered attending Central’s academy with
him but ultimately chose to move and attend the one in Resembool with Winry. This was
partly because Resembool offered him a full scholarship and mostly because Winry was his
intended bondmate. She had an Energy Steel Core so weak she couldn’t even perform
alchemy, but bonding only required having Cores, not being able to use them.

While Ed ditched any class without an attendance policy, his grades had never faltered. He
flew through the first three and a half years of courses in a little under two. In the beginning,
people whispered about the Fullmetal Alchemist being in their classes. Luckily, two years of
being studious, antisocial, rude, and not showing his automail dissimilated him from his
famed image, allowing him to fade into the background. By Ed’s final semester, his status as
a State Alchemist was more rumor than fact.

The only student who still openly called him Fullmetal was Roy I’m-Better-Than-You
Mustang.

It was no surprise that Mustang knew who Ed really was, considering he was both a Colonel
and a State Alchemist. It was surprising that Mustang still bothered to interact with him.
Their first encounter had been during orientation week Ed’s freshman year, with a dastardly
combination of Mustang being a smug bastard and Ed being slightly star-struck.

Despite knowing that nothing could ever come of it, Ed had been excited to meet one of the
only people in the world he could actually bond with. Activation Fire Cores were only
slightly less rare than Energy Fire Cores.

Ed had walked over and cleared his throat, sure to stand tall and present himself as not-a-
sixteen-year-old. Mustang had proceeded to offer him a helpful smile and a silky, “May I
help you?” but not fast enough to hide the calculation. Ed had seen that look enough in his
days as a military dog to know Mustang would use him as fast as anyone else. Maybe even
faster. Ed had scowled, the tiny sprout of hope in his chest turning to ash, and forced himself
to walk away.

Walking away, unfortunately, meant little to nothing considering they were attending the
same school for the same reason. The academy was large, but not overly so, and the closer Ed
got to his senior class load, the more their schedules had overlapped. By Ed’s cursed luck
alone, Mustang ended up in all three of Ed’s final courses.

Ed only attended class on test days for two of the courses, so those were fine. An In-Depth
Understanding of Core Bonding, on the other hand, required much more of his time and
attention.

Not that he was struggling. Just that Armstrong would flunk him if he didn’t go. The
extremely large, extremely muscular, extremely emotional man wanted nothing more than to
create a family environment in his classroom. And families, apparently, went to class.

That meant Ed saw Mustang five days a week, at minimum. It was irritating and a waste of
time, but it was also fine. Because if Ed were being honest with himself, the fact that he had
to take the class at all was kind of his fault. He’d technically had the option of taking three
courses on bonding or just this one, the catch being that Armstrong’s course had ninety-
minute long class sessions Monday through Friday. On top of that, there was a two-month
period where all the Energy Core holders had to live with Activation Core holders. That, in
theory, would give them a glimpse of what life might be like after bonding.

Ed’s original plan had been to take the three courses. They were nothing he couldn’t handle,
and the only person he could stand to live with was Al. Had Ed paid attention while making
his over-packed schedules, he’d have been in the clear. But of course, Ed was Ed, and
keeping track of time had never been his strong suit. He’d picked the classes that’d interested
him, visited Al and Winry on holidays, and the next thing he knew, he was taking the last
spot in Armstrong’s class.
Shit luck and bad planning aside, he still preferred Armstrong’s course over waiting an entire
extra year for the other three classes to be offered. Going to class sucked, but he could do it.
Living with a stranger would be bullshit, but he’d make it through. And the light at the end of
the tunnel? Two more years of being on the military’s leash.

Only two more years.

Then freedom.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed paid more attention to students than professors. People watching was fun, and lectures
were boring. Thanks to their class schedules and the bastard’s popularity, the people Ed
watched almost always included Mustang.

Aristocratic features, dark-as-night eyes, full lips and ink-black, seemingly feather soft hair
were only the tip of the iceberg. He was tall with broad shoulders and a body other military
men worked hard for. His long, elegant fingers were hidden beneath white gloves, a red
transmutation circle helping to further focus his power standing out on the back.

Mustang usually wore his State Alchemist’s uniform proudly (as did the few other State
certified alchemists in the academy), without a crease or wrinkle to be found. He was brilliant
at nearly everything. Popular, smart, strong, talented, attractive, and high-ranked, Roy
Mustang got whatever he wanted. He was charming, and he knew it.

The masses fought for his attention. Maybe because it was obvious that his dream of being
Führer would one day come true. Maybe because he was one of the only Activation Fire Core
holders in existence. Often because he was mind-blowingly powerful, even without having
gone through his inheritance, and people were desperate to be the one he decided to bond
with.

Ed scoffed at the last one. Mustang was a womanizer if Ed had ever seen one. Well, more of
an anyone-izer. Mustang liked beautiful people, and that wasn’t restricted by gender. The day
Mustang settled down and committed himself to just one person was the day Ed put on his
regulation military uniform and literally kissed the Führer's ass.

It wasn’t that Ed cared what or who Mustang did with his time. He just made observations.
The fact that a large number of his observations happened to center around Mustang was
unavoidable. Mustang was the center of attention, always. Men and women flocked to him.
Professors loved to call on him. He always had the answers, too. Maybe not as in-depth as Ed
would have given, but still correct.

Ed could appreciate intelligence even in arrogant bastards like Mustang.

It likely changed from class to class, but in Armstrong’s course, Mustang was always
surrounded by the same four people: Solaris Homunculi (also known as Lust the Lascivious),
her brother Gerard (who Ed liked to call Greeling for his greedy nature), Russell Tringham
(who thought Ed was all flash and no bang), and Sheska (who had Ed’s love for books along
with everyone else’s love for Mustang).

The Homunculi siblings were irksome, at best. Tringham thought Mustang was mocking Ed
by calling him Fullmetal, and Ed never bothered to correct the assumption. Sheska was good
for the occasional conversation but usually got off topic, and the new topic usually ended up
being Mustang. They positioned themselves around the Flame Alchemist as though they were
all trying to gain more access to him than anyone else, and Ed liked to think about how
terrible they would be at chess.

Well, that was what he liked to do whenever he had no books and decided to attend class
simultaneously, anyway.

Armstrong usually allowed him his reading days—three or four a week—after Ed’s insistence
that every family had a bookworm. This allowance was conditional to Ed properly answering
questions and maintaining high test scores, both of which he could do in his sleep.

He looked over his classmates, acutely aware that in just two weeks he would be living with
one of them. Not Sheska or Tringham, obviously, but maybe Lust, Greeling or, god forbid,
Mustang.

Ed’s lips twitched upward, his own thoughts a joke. He wouldn’t be paired with any of those
three, he knew. Armstrong had been gracious enough to have Activation Core holders choose
which Energy Core holder to live with, highest grades first.

When Mustang would have eleven other Energy Core holders to choose from, why in the
world would he stick himself with Ed? And Ed was almost positive Lust and Greeling would
rather chew their own arms off than live with him, so there were no worries there, either.

It was much more likely that Ed would end up with Envy, another of the Homunculi siblings,
or even Scar. Edward wasn’t actually sure what Scar’s real name was, but he had a bit of an
unhealthy obsession with Ed, and his grades weren’t terrible. Ed was seventy percent sure
that Scar was who he would go home with.

Then again, it was no secret that Envy legitimately wanted to bond with Ed, making him
likely to gun for the position of Ed’s partner. It was a ridiculous notion for a litany of reasons,
not the least of which being that Envy had an Activation Wind Core. Envy was also
annoying, and even if he weren’t annoying, they were the same height. Ed liked taller guys,
when men were the gender in question. He preferred women to be shorter.

Misogynistic? Maybe. Ed wasn’t too worried about it. Winry had clomped him with a wrench
far too many times for him to actually think women were the weaker sex.

“Five minutes to chat! Being social is an important part of a healthy bond and, much like
sleep and food, is necessary to grow strong!”
Glitter danced behind Armstrong’s head, his bulging muscles ready to rip through his military
uniform at any moment. Ed was almost positive the man had taken this teaching job for the
sole sake of Mustang getting the “best education possible,” as Armstrong had already
confirmed that he would be rejoining the military full time once the year was up.

Ed turned his head to stare out the window. Armstrong always gave them a break in the
middle of the class to socialize. Sometimes Scar would sit beside him, just as content to stare
at Ed as Ed was to stare out the window. Sometimes one of Mustang’s cronies would find it
fun to taunt him or Sheska would bring him a book. Most of the time Ed spent it alone.
Contentedly alone.

Weren’t you listening?

Words made of flames scrawled themselves elegantly in the air in front of Ed, distracting him
from his view of the window.

Being social is an important part of your growth.

Ed offhandedly batted the fire into nothing, not bothering to acknowledge its source. Mustang
liked to pull little stunts like this, but he rarely actually approached Ed. Not in public,
anyway. Ed wasn’t sure what the reason behind that was, and he didn’t care enough to find
out.

Come be social with me.

Ed sneered at the message, hating that the temptation, however small, was there. He clapped
his hands together for show, as he was using Core Energy instead of conventional alchemy,
and tapped his fingers on the desk to send a message back to the beloved Colonel.

Ed watched Mustang’s reflection on the windowpane as the older man gently touched the
flames roughly spelling out Fuck off, Mustang. Then he returned his attention to the people
meandering about outside, once more unconcerned with the activity of the classroom.

Mustang didn’t bother Ed for a more than a week after that, and Ed wasn’t complaining. Even
when he had to go to class after the nice, refreshing weekend, there was only light reluctance.
It was one of his reading days, and he was excited to delve deeper into art of combining
transmutation circles.

He’d always had fun creating arrays. Combining them was a whole different beast. Ed
walked into the classroom, mind already caught up in a whirl of potential array combinations,
then stopped.

Mustang was absent.

Ed’s brow scrunched, trying to remember if Mustang had ever missed a day before. He didn’t
think so. And while everyone was entitled to a sick day or two, Ed still found it odd. As class
began, his mind bounced between combining transmutation circles and wondering what
Mustang was playing at. By the end of class, Ed was more focused on his circles than
anything else. His mind was lost to the information the texts offered him, and it was instinct
alone that had him looking up when he entered the hallway.

“Maes.” Ed frowned, unsettled by the lack of a happy smile and pictures of Elicia.

The fluorescent lights glinted off Maes’s glasses as he nodded at Ed, silently requesting they
speak in private. Ed pursed his lips before nodding back. He closed his book and leaned
against the wall. His classmates were quick to vacate the classroom. Armstrong was the last
to leave. They continued waiting until the hall was empty, too. As soon as they were alone,
Maes started walking.

“Ed, I’ve had my suspicions for a while now, but I’ve kept quiet out of respect. You have to
know that I wouldn’t question you if it weren’t absolutely necessary. Someone’s life is on the
line.”

He was more serious than Ed ever liked to see him. Ed’s bangs fell into his eyes when he
nodded. Maes stopped and leaned in close, breath hot against the shell of Ed’s ear.

“Do you have an Energy Fire Core?”

Maes moved back to watch Ed’s reaction. Ed kept his expression carefully neutral, deciding
what to do. Normally he would’ve glared and moved on, declaring even the insinuation
stupid. But this was Maes, one of the few people Ed considered a genuine friend, and Maes
would never do anything to hurt him. After a slow minute, Ed nodded.

Maes pressed his lips into a thin line, looking both torn and relieved. They kept walking.

Curiosity carved questions on Ed’s teeth, but he stayed quiet. Whatever was going on, it
wasn’t something to be discussed in public. They paused outside of the infirmary, Ed’s mind
racing a kilometer a minute, and a singular nod of confirmation had Maes reaching forward
to open the door. He pushed Ed into the room before too many pained gasps could escape
into the hall.

There were three doctors in the room, none of which worked at the academy. They were
trusted medics of the military. Trusted by Maes, in fact, and that meant trustworthy in
general. Their attention was completely focused on the thrashing figure on the bed.

“His inheritance.”

Only people with Activation Cores went through an inheritance, though when they would do
so was unpredictable. The stronger the Core, the more dangerous the inheritance. Most
people got someone else of the same Core type to perform the alchemy that would allow their
body to better adjust to the new power of the Core.

Fire Cores though . . . Any non-Fire Core holder would get burned, and fast.

No one would be able to touch him, which meant no one would be able to help him. Even if
there were a Fire Core holder close enough to Central’s academy, they would probably rather
let Mustang die. Activation Fire Core holders were naturally competitive, and Mustang was a
formidable opponent without his inheritance. If he made it through this process, Ed couldn’t
imagine just how much power and influence the Colonel would gain.

Which was where Ed came in. If he could draw enough power from Mustang’s Core into
himself, the doctors would be able perform the alchemy necessary to save Mustang’s life.

Or Ed could walk away and let him die.

Mustang’s torso was unnaturally pale and sweaty. There was a large burn scar on his left side
and abdomen, probably from the war. Mustang’s mouth twisted into a grimace, teeth grinding
together. His eyes screwed shut. Sweat drenched black hair, causing it to stick to an equally
pale forehead.

If Ed saved Mustang, his Core would recognize the power as a request. They would form a
partial bond on Ed’s side, as Activation Core holders had to be consciously aware of bonding
for it to occur, that would basically send Ed into withdrawals. It wasn’t natural to start to
bond and not complete the process. He might, in fact, experience as much pain as the Colonel
was currently in.

But he would live through it.

A soft breath escaped Ed’s lips. He walked over to a bedside table that’d been shoved
haphazardly off to the side, likely during the medical team’s haste to stabilize Mustang. He
set his book there, then pulled off his gloves and coat.

Maes watched him, the understanding in his eyes as thankful as it was sorry. Ed’s loose,
sleeveless black shirt almost felt like too much with the heat that Mustang was putting off,
but he didn’t dare shed more. Ed reached out, hand hovering slightly above the (admittedly
attractive) black curls on Mustang’s chest before pressing down.

Three things happened simultaneously: Mustang’s eyes and mouth flew open, a breathless
gasp escaping his lips; a doctor shouted, “Stop! He’ll burn you alive!” her hand reaching
forward to stop him; and Ed’s eyes momentarily fluttered shut, the pleasure from their Cores
being so close rushing through his veins like lava.

Then Ed pulled away and held both hands out, palms up. “C’mon, Mustang, we don’t have
all day.”

Probably having no idea what was going on but needing to feel that relief again, Mustang
reached out. He searched blindly for Ed with the innocent want of a newborn. Ed clasped
Mustang’s hands. He tugged Mustang into a sitting position, then maneuvered to sit on the
bed between Mustang and the wall.

The pleasure doubled as Mustang’s back pressed flush to Ed’s front. He let go of his superior
officer’s hands before taking them again, this time holding onto the wrists. He raised their
joined hands, meaning to make room for the doctors to do their jobs, only for Mustang to
bury his fingers in Ed’s hair. Sparks of adoration fogged Ed’s thoughts and filled his belly. He
frowned.
 Ed positioned his automail leg over Mustang’s, pinning the man in place. Mustang pressed
himself harshly against Ed, seeking more contact (trying desperately not to feel the pain of
his overloading Core again).

Ed glanced at Maes to find light, intelligent brown eyes already staring back. He nodded as
best he could against Mustang’s steel grip. By the Gate, the man was fucking sleeping and
still strong as hell. Maes nodded as well, to the doctors though, and they immediately set to
work.

Ed watched them closely, having never seen this procedure before. Mustang snuggled into the
crook of Ed’s neck, practically breathing him in. The bastard was tying knots in Ed’s stomach
without his consent, and not for the first time, Ed cursed his Core.

He didn’t want to know how good it could feel to bond with someone, even a smug bastard
like Mustang, only to have it ripped away. Ed memorized every line of the transmutation
circle on Mustang’s chest with an intensity he didn’t feel. He wanted this to be over already.

A too-bright glow filled the room, and Mustang went limp. His grip slackened, though he
didn’t let go, and his hands remained tangled in blonde locks. His breathing evened out. The
harsh lines of his face eased. Mustang stopped struggling to use the same space Ed was
currently taking up.

He was asleep.

Ed carefully removed Mustang’s hands from his hair, baring his teeth when the Colonel’s grip
tightened again before doing what Ed wanted, then gently slid out from beneath the prone
body. The medics immediately set to making the Flame Alchemist comfortable. Maes put his
hand on Ed’s shoulder in silent thanks and Ed offered a rare, genuine smile.

Then the pain consumed him, and Ed was out before he could hit the floor.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Roy Mustang opened his eyes blearily. He felt halfway like he had been hit by a freight train
and halfway like he had just finished an extremely satisfying bout of sex. Rough sex, clearly,
but the warmth curling in his stomach balanced out the pain. Problem being, he couldn’t for
the life of him think of who he’d had sex with.

There was the pretty blonde woman (Amanda?) from his Advanced Construction class. He’d
taken her out last week, but they hadn’t made it past a nice make-out session. Had he finally
taken her to bed? But no, her kink was hair pulling, and a headache was one of the few things
he didn’t have.

Maybe he’d decided to take the sexy brunette from the café down the street up on her offer to
buy him drinks? That would explain why he didn’t recall the actual event, and he knew for a
fact she was a rough lover. There was still the lack of a hangover though.

Which brought him back to the freight train theory.

Roy frowned and took in his surroundings. He was definitely in a hospital of some sort, if the
white walls, uncomfortable bed, and scratchy sheets were anything to go by. He didn’t
recognize the exact location, but he but assumed it was the academy since that was where he
remembered being last. He’d been on his way to Armstrong’s class when an absolutely
insane amount of pain had hit him, though what’d caused that pain was up in the air. Roy had
barely held onto consciousness long enough to find a phone and call Maes.

After that . . . Well, who knew?

An all-too familiar red cloak tore Roy from his musings. His attention shot from the wall it
hung on to the other side of the room. The other bed. Edward Elric was out cold and closer
than he’d been in almost longer than Roy could remember.

Edward was mostly hidden beneath the same type of itchy blanket that Roy was using. His
body was curled into a tight ball, right hand clutching the blanket and left arm bent under his
head as a make-shift pillow. Roy’s gaze lingered there, taking in the metallic gleam of the
automail arm he’d never before seen in person.

It was only a glimpse—the barest hint of silver fingers peeking out from beneath the blanket;
material so bundled that if Roy didn’t know what he was looking for, he might’ve missed it—
but he was instantly entranced. The sleek silver made a spectacular contrast with Edward’s
sun-kissed skin, practically begging to be touched.

Roy had known, of course, that Fullmetal had automail, but he hadn’t thought it would be so
enticing. Would the juncture of metal and skin be rough or smooth? Would the scarring from
the original injury be visible? If so, how far would it stretch? Roy had always been a curious
soul. He just controlled it better than most. Mainly because he knew that, with patience, he
was sure to get what he wanted.

And he wanted to run his hands over everything that was Edward Elric.

Golden blonde hair fell in messy locks around Edward’s face, not quite freed from the braid
but mussed up enough to seem like someone had attempted to make it so. At first, Roy found
it amusing that Fullmetal frowned even in his sleep. Then he noted the unnatural tension in
Fullmetal’s shoulders. The tightness in his jaw and sweat on his forehead. It was hard to tell
through the blanket, but Roy thought Edward might’ve been trembling.

They were in the infirmary. Had Edward had gotten sick and come here to sleep it off?

Roy looked over the blonde again, this time slower and with purposeful calculation. Edward
hated hospitals. That much information was hard neither to gather nor to confirm. Fullmetal
would probably rather die at home than entrust his life to doctors. So, what brought him
there?

The door opened and Maes walked in, eyes lighting up as he spotted Roy. A joyous smile
overtook Maes’s face. “Roy!”

Maes had the, ‘I’m-going-to-tell-you-some-loosely-related-to-this-event-Elicia-story’ look in

his eyes. Roy prepared to tell his best friend to skip the dramatics and explain what was going
on when another voice rang from outside the room.

“He’s awake?” Russell barged into the infirmary a second later. Maes tossed Roy a look of
discretion. “Hey, Roy. Are you feeling alright?”

Russell was a smart, attractive young man: seventeen and already a freshman at the academy.
Their first encounter had been much like Roy’s and Fullmetal’s. Russell had looked at Roy
like the Colonel was stupid for being able to play people and like the people were stupid for
falling for it. Not that he’d held out for long.

Once Roy had turned his attention on Russell, the blonde boy was putty in the Flame
Alchemist’s hands. His obvious hopes of being chosen to bond with Roy were more than
ironic. Russell had even gone so far as to pull strings and call in favors to make sure he could
get into Armstrong’s class with Roy.

Russell seemed fairly certain Roy was going to choose to partner up with him, but honestly,
Roy hadn’t decided yet. Two months was a long time to live with someone. To allow
someone to wander freely in his home.

Roy flashed Russell a charming smile with just the right amount of gratitude and a dash of
reassurance. One that Fullmetal would have seen through in an instant. “I’m fine, Russell. I
just wasn’t feeling well is all.”

Roy assumed that Maes would have kept the story simple and vague, and the tension leaving
Russell’s shoulders proved him correct. “That’s good. You’re never sick, so I was worried
that you’d been targeted at work or come into your inheritance. Something dangerous like
that.” He chuckled as though ashamed of his own imagination.

Roy used his years of hiding behind a mask not to tense. While he was certain he hadn’t been
targeted at work, coming into his inheritance fit the bill pretty well.

He laughed. “Nothing like that. I just had a bit of a fever is all. Speaking of work though, I
have something I need to speak with Maes about. Do you mind?”

Roy’s entire demeanor, ruffled white T-shirt and all, screamed apologetic, and Russell barely
hesitated before nodding. “Sure thing. But do you think . . .” The blonde trailed off. Roy
waited with more patience than he actually had as the younger man’s eyes moved over to
Fullmetal. “I mean, is it alright for him to be in here?”

He was trying to sound concerned, but the jealousy was evident, too. Russell didn’t like how
much attention Roy paid to Edward.

Maes’s ever-caring, perpetually-loving smile brightened a notch. “He’s asleep. If he wakes

up, we’ll be sure to send him out.”

That seemed to be the correct response as Russell nodded again and left the room. Roy’s eyes
searched Maes’s before moving back to Fullmetal. “I take it my Core adjusted well enough?”

The answer was obvious. Roy was alive, after all.

Maes pinned Roy with a hard stare, sizing him up. “You could say that.”

The Colonel sat up a bit straighter, shifting his full attention to his best friend. “What
happened?”

Roy’s question hung in the air for a few seconds, Maes’s expression unreadable. The silence
sat heavily in the room, interrupted only by Edward’s light, shuddered breathing. Finally,
Maes responded, tone airy.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Roy.”

“But you can’t tell me the truth, either.”

Maes displayed none of his usual playful vigor. Roy’s lips thinned as he read between the
lines, unsure how far he could push the issue. The only thing that would stop Maes from
sharing something with Roy was loyalty. Maes had obligations to someone else not to let Roy
know, and it was important enough that he was keeping quiet.

Maes didn’t respond, so Roy moved on to his next question. “Why is Fullmetal here?”

“He’s sick.”

Roy prompted Maes onward with his eyes, knowing there was more to the story.
Maes continued, “I went out while you were with the medics and found him. We chatted for a
bit, then he passed out on me. You know how he is. If I didn’t bring him to a doctor, he’d
never see one.”

It made sense, but something about the wording put Roy on edge. Were Maes’s secret
obligations to Edward? If so, Roy might be able to get the information he wanted out of the
blonde instead.

As if hearing Roy’s manipulative thoughts, Edward’s eyes flickered open, dilating with the
light. His body curled in on itself seemingly out of reflex, and Roy caught his gaze.

“Fullmetal—”

Roy moved toward Edward, hand reaching over the space between them, but he got no
farther as Edward’s eyelids slid closed once more. The younger alchemist’s breathing evening
out almost instantaneously. Roy stared for half of a minute before realizing that no, Edward
wasn’t faking. He’d lost consciousness again.

“How long has he been like this?”

Roy didn’t have to look up to see Maes shrug. “A few hours.”

The better question: How long had Fullmetal been like that before Maes stumbled upon him?
Roy had been taking special care to observe Edward without interacting the past few days.
Perhaps if he’d kept with his usual tactics, he would’ve noticed the illness before it reached
this stage. And, whether Fullmetal liked it or not, Roy was more than capable of forcing him
to see a doctor.

“I’m going back to bed.”

Roy had a lot to contemplate, and there was no reason to give up a chance to grill Edward
without the younger man having an easy escape route. Maes caught his drift and nodded,
letting Roy know that the room was open only to approved medical personnel with a single
look.

“Alright, but before I go . . .” Maes reached into his pocket, and in an instant his wallet had
unfolded to reveal a dozen pictures of his family. The hearts fluttering around him rivaled the
sparkles perpetually surrounding Armstrong. “Isn’t my little Elicia just adorable? This is her
in the beautiful blue dress that my beautiful wife made. We can’t confirm it yet, but we think
she might have a Core. She’ll look so good performing alchemy, don’t you think? I can
already imagine her in a State Alchemist’s uniform. She’ll be—”

Roy slumped onto the mattress. “Out, Maes.” Maes only paused, intent to continue clear. Roy
gave him a hard stare. “Now.”

Maes sighed in faux disappointment, entirely unconcerned at the abrupt dismissal. “Okay,
okay. You need your rest. I’ll show you later.”
With a wink and a smile, before Roy could tell him no (as though the word had ever stopped
Maes before), the man was gone. Roy rolled onto his side and stared unabashedly at the
young man sleeping not-so-peacefully in front of him. Hours ticked by, and eventually, Roy
joined Edward in slumber.

When he woke again, he was alone.

Roy glanced at his watch to see that it was already eight at night. He stood and collected the
rest of his uniform from the chair beside his bed. He paused by the mirror, then turned his lip
up at the disheveled man sneering back.

He didn’t mind being messy. It looked good on him. His reputation, on the other hand,
required more finesse. If one of his higher-ups saw him like this, they would question the
lack of his usual professionalism. The longer he could keep his inheritance a secret, the
better.

Having the upper hand was nice. Obtaining the upper hand without alerting others was much,
much better.

Roy made his way out of the building and to the parking lot without drawing too much
attention to himself. He slipped into his car without a fuss, started the engine, and drove
home with no problems whatsoever. His escape had gone as well as it could’ve, but he was
still frowning.

Now that he was thinking clearly, he could feel the new power thrumming through him. It
filled every pore and threatened to burst out of him, practically glowing beneath his skin. It
was new and familiar at the same time. Comforting and encouraging. He was on top of the
world.

Which was exactly what bothered him.

This was way too much power for the inheritance process to have run smoothly. No Fire Core
holder, Activation or otherwise, was anywhere near close enough to have arrived at Central in
time. So how had he made it through? Was it just dumb luck?

Roy stripped himself as he headed for the shower. Light bruises marred pale skin, no doubt
from people attempting to restrain him. He simultaneously wanted to applaud them for their
efforts and shake his head at their idiocy. His skin would’ve been hot enough to burn (a self-
defense mechanism, evolutionists believed), and only those with a Fire Core would be able to
withstand it.

He stepped into the shower, happy to be out of the roughed-up, slept-in clothes. The water
nearly scalded him. Roy hummed in pleasure. His thoughts wandered back to the infirmary
and, as they often did, to Edward Elric.

Had the blonde actually gotten better or just woken up coherent enough to realize he was in a
hospital and gotten the heck out of dodge? What if he’d collapsed on the streets on his way
back? It wasn’t implausible since he’d done so in front of Maes (twice) and Roy both.
He rubbed shampoo into his hair, the transmutation circle etched into the back of his hand
nothing more than a pale scar. As much as he would like to know what’d happened after he
went back to sleep, there was no reasonable way to find out. If he called Maes for
information on Fullmetal, the man would only offer bland platitudes and tell Roy to hold off
panicking until Fullmetal wasn’t in class the next day.

Roy closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the stream, wishing once again that he’d
developed feelings for literally anyone else. The blonde was starkly different from both his
usual pawns and his friends, and unfortunately for all of them, Roy loved different. Like a
puzzle that always seemed to have new pieces falling from the sky, daring Roy to collect
them all.

Roy had only asked Maes about Fullmetal a handful of times: an initial check-in after their
first meeting, once when he found out Edward had taken an entire month longer on a mission
than he was supposed to, and once to question if the man had plans to stay in the military.
Everything else, Roy could find out on his own.

Edward’s class schedule, for instance, was an easy thing to swindle out of a star-struck
intern’s well-manicured hands. And smooth-talking his way into said classes? Even easier.
The look on the blonde’s face when he saw that Roy was in every single one of them made
the small amount of effort more than worth it.

Water washed away as many of the day’s events as it could, and Roy sighed as he stepped
out. Thinking about the eldest Elric was getting him just about as far as thinking about his
inheritance. Now that he was awake, he may as well do something useful. Like finish his
assigned reading on making transmutation circles.

He just had to court a genius, didn’t he?

(***Intertwined***)

Despite Roy’s worries, Edward was back in school the very next day. Roy found him sitting
in a little nook in the back of the library, buried in a pile of books. Probably preparing to skip
Theoretical vs. Practical Transmutations.

For a moment, Roy admired the way golden eyes zoomed intently over the words in a book
Roy had probably only heard of. Blonde hair fell lightly into Edward’s face, the tips of his
bangs brushing his cheek. One hand prepared to turn a page while the other scrawled nearly-
illegible notes in a notebook. Relief softened Roy’s posture, and he strolled forward.

“Fullmetal.”

Most students at the academy believed Roy was only taunting Edward with the nickname.
When expressive gold eyes jerked up to stare and then glare at Roy, he didn’t know how they
could doubt its validity. The young man let other people know in no uncertain terms that he
was dangerous, and the fire burning brightly behind his gaze told Roy the same
thing: Edward didn’t bluff.

He wore his heart on his sleeve and refused to back down from his beliefs. He cared about
people, even strangers, and didn’t like being told what to do. He fit the bill perfectly.

“Mustang.”

The word was more terse than usual, and Roy’s smile took on a predatory edge. Edward was
hiding something, too.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation. Roy pulled up a chair anyways. He hung his black overcoat neatly
over the back, then sat down. Edward frowned harder. The blonde had grown a lot since their
first meeting, but he was still a firecracker ready to go off at any moment. Roy could admit
he enjoyed lighting the fuse.

“Are you deaf? That wasn’t an invitation.”

Roy took his time with a slow once-over, ignoring Ed’s response. “Are you feeling better?”

That seemed to take Edward off guard. He blinked, confusion overwhelming irritation, and
sat up a little straighter. Fullmetal searched Roy’s eyes for any answers he could find, and the
Colonel bit back a comment about how Edward really shouldn’t look at him like that. It was
too tempting.

Finally, without an ounce of tact or care for Roy’s opinion, Edward asked, “What?”

He sounded just as befuddled as he looked. Roy smirked, the need to patronize his
subordinate winning out over his concern. Fullmetal was a terrible liar and an even worse
actor. If any trace of his sickness from the day before remained, Roy couldn’t see it.

“Articulate as always, I see. You were sick yesterday. Feverish, even. I asked if you’re feeling
better now. Or do you need me to clarify what feeling better entails?”

Tan skin flushed a brilliant shade of pink as Edward’s usual scowl turned into a snarl. His
voice darkened with anger. “Think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?”

Roy smiled, basking in Edward’s addictive attention. “You said it, not me.”

Rage flashed behind amber eyes. Fullmetal had gotten better at hiding his emotions over the
years—not getting unnecessarily angry in general, too—but Roy had watched him do so.
Every time there was a change in how Edward acted, Roy had logged it away for future use.
Because of that, he was just as good at reading Edward as ever. Not that the blonde could be
considered good at masking his emotions, but he was certainly better than before.

“You’re an ass, Mustang.”

Roy raised both brows, encouraging Edward to explain. Edward, in turn, moved his glare to
the book on his left. The blush dusting his cheeks lightened. Roy watched through dark
lashes, focusing wholly on Edward and his reactions. Edward’s shoulders were tense under
his signature red jacket, left hand clutching his pen tighter than usual. His lips were drawn
into a tight, almost-pout.

“I’m fine now.” Golden eyes moved even farther away from Roy without looking too
unnatural. “Thanks. You know, for asking.”

Edward Elric, always so sure of himself and what he did, was stumbling over his words.
Stumbling because of Roy. Dear god, Fullmetal could rile him up with five little words, and
he didn’t even know it.

Roy cleared his throat, voice turning to sin on instinct. He knew what seduced people best,
and Edward being sweet and civil brought out his seducing side. (Maes would argue that all
of his sides were seducing sides, but some were better suited for what he wanted from Edward
than others.) He said, “You’re welcome, Fullmetal.”

The confusion furrowing Edward’s brows only made it sweeter. He knew that Roy’s tone had
changed. He’d liked it, too, judging by the way he shivered. It was clear he was neither sure
why it had changed nor why Roy was being cordial in return, though.

By the way Edward’s expression darkened, Roy would say he was quickly coming (jumping)
to a (wrong) conclusion. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Fullmetal slammed the book in front of him
shut, not bothering to pick it up as he stood. “Just fuck off, Mustang.”

Roy stood, too, determined not to let their conversation end. He still had more he wanted to
know, both about Edward’s wellbeing and his own inheritance. Edward stomped around the
table and passed Roy, not even sparing the older man a glance. Roy followed him toward the
library’s exit. As soon as he was close enough, he curled his fingers around Edward’s flesh
bicep and spun him around.

Edward inhaled sharply, just short of a gasp. His eyelashes fluttered while his eyes glazed
over, and a lithe, partially metal body leaned into Roy’s touch.

Fullmetal swooned.

If there was one thing that Roy knew, it was that Edward Elric didn’t swoon. Especially not
over him. He narrowed his eyes, examining Edward as best he could. Had Fullmetal been
drugged or—

Edward snapped out of his trance-like state and jerked away from Roy, self-loathing burning
in his eyes. There was embarrassment—no, humiliation—mixed with the fury.

“I said fuck off, Mustang.”

Nearly whispered words seemed to help Edward steel himself. His eyes hardened as he
turned and left. Roy didn’t give chase a second time.
 There was something he was missing. Something big. Something large and convoluted
enough to make Edward look at Roy as though his feelings were more than returned, even
when he knew for a fact that they weren’t.

Roy had always been a patient man. He planned out every detail of his path to victory in
every aspect of his life, then adjusted as necessary. Now, thanks to Fullmetal’s secrets, his
plan had to be trashed. He’d spent so much time luring Edward closer—pushing and pulling
in all the right places—and somehow still managed to allow something incredibly important
to slip past completely unseen.

Well, fine then. He would create a new plan, and this one would be equipped with a catalyst.

Secrets could be kept from Roy for a time, but he always found out in the end.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed had tried to avoid Mustang. He really had. But the damn man had practically hunted him
down.

. . . Okay, so Ed had hidden in his usual spot. That was on him. But he hadn’t honestly
thought that Mustang would go looking for him. The Colonel had still been asleep when Ed
had woken up from his partial-bond induced coma, and Maes would never have said anything
that could’ve given Ed away. Mustang physically couldn’t know about what Ed had done for
him.

Not that the reasoning for Mustang joining him in the library really mattered at this point.
Mustang had found him, and Ed, of course, had completely humiliated himself.

After his night of detoxing (his Core crying out for a completion of the bonding process and
his body desperately trying to reconnect with the part of him that was acting out), he’d
assumed he would be alright. Not many people started the bonding process without
completing it, so reliable information was sparse, but the overall experience had been in-line
with Ed’s expectations. The pain especially so.

Ed had pushed through it though. From stumbling home to making a bath of ice water for the
fever (not to mention the heat his Core was putting off) to curling up in his bed. He’d bitten
into his flesh arm until it bled from the pain that was just barely not enough to make him pass
out. When he’d woken up that morning, aching but functional, he’d figured it was over.

When Mustang had touched him though?

Ed had never felt more pleasure in his life. In that moment, he would’ve gladly given the
Colonel anything the man had asked for and more. He’d leaned in, and it wasn’t until he met
Mustang’s eyes that any part of their interaction struck him as wrong.

Ed would rather live with this empty feeling in his chest forever than see that look on
Mustang’s face again. Like he was a defenseless kid who had something horribly wrong with
him. Like he needed saving. Yes, dark eyes had been much harsher in their assessment, more
looking for what had been wrong and trying to fix it than judging his helplessness, but that
was what it boiled down to. Now Mustang probably thought Ed was a fan-boy like all the
rest. Any respect that Mustang may have held for him, decimated.

Not that it mattered.

Ed didn’t care what the Flame Alchemist thought of him. He just didn’t like being looked
down on. Especially not by arrogant pricks like Roy Mustang.
And so what if it tended to get to him more when the Colonel was the one looking down on
him? He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care enough to figure it out. The black-haired
narcissist had never been at the top of his list of priorities.

Ed flopped face down on his bed, wondering if there was a transmutation array that could
open up the Earth and swallow him whole. This tiny spark of humiliation wasn’t all that
important in the span of things, no. It was nothing close to when he had lost his limbs or
when his mother had died or when Tucker had—

Ed closed his eyes more tightly than before, torn between pushing out thoughts of what had
happened to Nina and honoring her memory. He and Al had burned down their house to make
sure that Ed would have nowhere to run back to when scared and, no matter Al’s protests,
they both knew it’d been the right choice.

(Well, Ed had known. Al had still been too shell-shocked at Ed giving up his limbs to fight
the decision. The options that wouldn’t either separate them permanently or turn them into
burdens of the Rockbell family were scarce. They’d had to go.)

Every chance Ed got, he was with Al, and while their school schedules fucked up their ability
to visit each other, the months apart were made up for by seeing the younger, taller boy happy
and healthy. Even before the academy, when Ed was still on the road, his schedule had
sometimes gotten held up. Luckily, Central was a bustling city with tons to do. Al had even
made friends in the military base, Maes being one of the prime examples.

Ed wouldn’t change that for the world. As much as missed his little brother, Ed was happy
that those bright eyes had never seen the horrors of Ed’s travels. Al still knew what Ed went
through, yeah, but he didn’t have to experience it firsthand. Those kind, innocent eyes seeing
Nina and Alexander’s chimera form was enough. Al didn’t need the permanent afterimage of
their corpse splashed onto a wall, too.

Ed could handle that burden all on his own.

Now that Al lived in the Rockbell’s spare room, Ed’s small military dorm seemed too large.
If Al were there, Ed would’ve ranted to him, and the younger Elric would’ve known exactly
what to say. He had always been more socially adept than Ed.

Ed turned to face the wall instead of attempting to suffocate himself in his pillow.

He hated that he was still stuck on this. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have more important
things to worry about. In just three days, he would be figuring out the easiest way to live with
another human being who wasn’t his brother, and Mustang would be the last thing on his
mind. Ed didn’t have time to be embarrassed, and that meant Mustang didn’t have time to
waste thinking about how stupid Ed was, either.

Ed drifted to sleep, hungry transmutation circles that swallowed people whole chasing
Mustang through his dreams.

When he woke up, he was finished with being embarrassed and went to class on time. He
didn’t care what Mustang thought of him or what he had told his cronies. Not caring,
however, didn’t translate to not noticing.

No one was looking at him any differently. No smug grins (they’d think it was hilarious if,
after all that resistance, it turned out Ed had a crush on Mustang) or condescending glares
(as though he was actually competition). Had it not spread past his inner circle?

But no, Tringham looked at him with the same amount of badly hidden distaste as usual. Had
Mustang not said anything?

Ed met Roy’s eyes from the doorway to the classroom. One black brow cocked, silently
asking if Ed really thought he would share information for free when he could use it as
leverage instead. Or maybe he was questioning if Ed was back to normal. If Ed was feeling
alright. Again.

Ed returned the question, whatever it was, with a glare. Mustang was being patronizing. That
much was sure. Ed didn’t wait for Mustang’s trademark, irritating smirk to appear before
walking to his usual spot at the back of the room. Whatever game Mustang was playing, Ed
wanted no part in it.

The Colonel didn’t track him down again.

It wasn’t an unwanted distance, but it put Ed on edge. If there was one thing that he knew, it
was that Mustang didn’t know how to give up. Maybe retreating and waiting for a better time
to strike, but not outright quitting. So what was he waiting for?

Ed spent a little less than a day fretting over it. Paranoia quickly became tiring, so Ed
distracted himself with books. Or, that was what it started out as. After the first few pages, all
thoughts of Mustang fled from his mind.

His notebook quickly filled with scattered notes and rough sketches. Ideas connected and
interconnected, turning into messily written theories. Every once in a while, he would flip
back to previous pages and scribble notes in the margins. He carried more than a few books
home with him, closed his curtains to the dying light outside, and delved back into the world
of words.

It was either ridiculously late or ridiculously early when he fell asleep, cheek pressed against
a thick tome. The obnoxiously loud ringing of his government-issued phone woke him up
again. He blindly groped his bedside table in an attempt to find the offending object without
fully waking up.

Something hit the floor, but the phone kept ringing, so Ed assumed that he hadn’t knocked
the blasted thing out of its cradle. Finally, his fingers enclosed around smooth, white plastic,
and he was torn between pride at finding it without opening his eyes and irritation at being
awoken.

Irritation won out.

“What?” He sounded as gruff and displeased as he felt.

There was a long pause before, “Brother? Did you just wake up?”

Ed cracked one eye open. Of course he’d just woken up. It was only—

“Shit! I’ll call you later, Al!”

Had he really slept that long? The phone was halfway to its cradle when Ed heard Al’s voice
again, most likely telling him to wait.

He brought the phone back up to his ear. “Yeah?” Ed moved as far as the cord would let him,
holding the phone between his ear and shoulder while he changed.

“Remember to call me right after class, okay? Not tomorrow or whenever you finish your
current project. I’m not going to feel good about this situation until I know who, exactly,
you’re going to be staying with.”

Ed paused his hopping, one leg still completely free of his pants, in favor of staring numbly
at the wall. It wasn’t unusual for him to lose track of a few hours, even a few days, but up
until this year he’d been used to Al at least reminding him of meals and sleep times. He could
admit that he had also put a little too much faith in his time management skills.

“Al, what day is it?” His voice sounded a little shaky, even to him.

Al’s answer was accompanied with a knowing sigh. “The fifteenth. Brother, did you—”

Ed loosed a string of curses, promised to call soon, and hung up. Al had probably expected to
catch him rushing out the door, not sleeping. Ed threw on whatever clothes were closest.
Shoes were tied, and his red coat fluttered behind him as he left the room. He didn’t bother to
lock the door.

He re-braided his hair as he tore through the town, damning his luck the whole way. Out of
all the times to be late, it had to be the most important fucking day of the whole semester. He
slammed the door of Armstrong’s classroom open, panting not from the amount he’d ran but
from the way he’d ran it. He looked up through his bangs, one hand on the door and the other
on his knee.

At least Armstrong knew and liked him well enough to be fine with it. He likely wouldn’t
question the fact that Ed had forgotten to come to class yesterday, either.

Ed straightened, only slightly uncomfortable under all the attention he was getting, and
scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry. Woke up late.”

Probably an obvious statement, but hey. It was the truth.

Armstrong responded with tears, the air sparkling pink behind him. “Such dedication to your
education! You are truly an admirable student! All is forgiven!”

The tall, overly muscled Strong Arm Alchemist rushed forward to engulf Ed in a hug. Ed
dodged toward his seat with a light chuckle. His laughter ended when he bumped into Scar’s
desk and met the other man’s sunglasses. Ed was swift to get out of that situation, too, and
hastily moved back to his usual seat.

No one was seated any differently than before, which meant they were probably waiting on
him.

“Edward Elric, just as quick on your feet as you are in your pursuit of knowledge!”
Armstrong showed off his perfect teeth with a grin. “We shan’t hold you back any longer! Let
us begin!”

Ed shot Armstrong an unsure smile and wisely chose not to point out that it was him making
everyone else wait, not the other way around. Apparently, the other students were too eager
to get the sorting over with to comment on it, either.

“Alright, Energy Core holders to the left of the room and Activation Core holders to the
right!”

Ed, who was already in the back, left corner, stayed still while everyone else resituated. The
overly zealous professor continued as soon as his students stopped moving.

“As you know, we are trying to mimic real life bonding as closely as possible, so those with
the strongest Activation Cores, or in this case the highest grades, will choose an Energy Core
holder first. Energy Core holders will have no choice in the matter. I know this seems unfair,
but if nothing else, I have taught you that Energy Core holders often have no choice in their
Intended. For unlike Activation Core holders, they cannot stop a bond from forming. I don’t
believe this should a problem, however, as we have all become great friends in these first few
weeks! I am positive that our lovely Activation Core holders will choose only the absolute
closest of friends to live with!”

Ed snorted. Half the Activation Core holders in the room could probably be clinically
classified as sadists.

“Without further ado, Roy, choose your faux Intended for the next two months!” Armstrong’s
shirt ripped as he spread his arms in a show of Mustang’s newfound freedom to choose.

Mustang stood from his chair, graceful as ever, and gave a sweeping glance around the room.
Tringham perked up, positive that he would be chosen. Sheska peeked hopefully through her
bangs. Ed crossed his arms on his desk and laid his head down, not really caring who
Mustang would pick. Mustang caught Ed’s gaze. He smirked. Ed sneered.

“Edward Elric.”

If the class hadn’t been silent before, it was certainly silent now. Half of Ed was positive that
Mustang had just chosen an extremely inappropriate time to start a conversation. The other,
more realistic half knew that his fate for the next two months had been sealed. It was no
wonder Ed chose to go with the first half.

“Mustang, did you hit your head?” Surely it was one of the Colonel’s pranks. Except
Mustang’s smirk only got more devious, and Ed knew it was wishful thinking. Slowly,
knowing there really wasn’t anything he could do about it, Ed stood and made his way to
Mustang.

Ed closed his eyes to block out Mustang’s smug expression, but that only made him
hyperaware of the older man’s Core. It was so much more powerful than before his
inheritance, and Ed could feel his own Core begging for contact. He opened his eyes.

Mustang had held out a hand for Ed to shake, probably wanting others to see how Ed reacted
to him. Thankfully, Mustang was right-handed. Ed sneered as he clasped his automail hand in
Mustang’s larger, gloved hand, and was more than relieved not to feel the shock of pleasure
through the artificial limb. He pulled his hand back the moment Mustang’s grip loosened.

Despite whatever protests he or anyone else had, class went on. Other people paired up, and,
at the end of the day, Mustang drove Ed back to the dorm so he could pack.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed angrily shoved the few things he owned into his duffel. The only things that weren’t
clothing consisted of his toothbrush, toothpaste, brush, a few hair ties, his journals of notes,
pens, pencils, and a small book of pictures Al and Winry had taken throughout the years. He
tossed the bag over his left shoulder and picked up a precariously large stack of books.

He would call Al on Mustang’s phone so that the younger boy could get Ed’s new number.
Mustang’s number. Ed stomped down the stairs and out the door, slamming it shut with his
foot. Mustang had already opened the trunk, and Ed placed his things inside before shutting it
only slightly less violently than the door to the dorm.

“You need help with the rest?”

For once, Mustang didn’t seem condescending. Unfortunately, Ed wasn’t in the mood to deal
with any side of Mustang, no matter how pleasant. He narrowed his eyes and slid into the car.
“That’s all there is.”

Mustang stared disbelievingly. “You’ll be at my place for two months. This is no time to be
choosy.” The barest hint of pride dusted his mountain of I-know-more-than-you covered
narcissism. “Trust me, there’s plenty of room for whatever else you’ve got.”

Ed crossed his arms over his chest and slammed himself back into his seat. “Not all of us
have a mountain of cash at our disposal, Mustang. I cleaned out the room when I packed, and
that’s it.”

He had never seen the need to own much. Even if he actually cared for material things, it
wasn’t as though he had a stable home to put them in. He’d probably just buy books, food,
and chalk.
Mustang stared. Ed kept his eyes on the windshield. He’d been pissed off enough for one day,
thank-you-very-much, and every occurrence had been at Mustang’s hands.

Mustang seemed to find whatever he was looking for. He started the engine and drove away
from the building Ed had more-or-less lived in for the past seven years. The ride was spent in
silence, and when Mustang pulled into a large driveway next to an extravagant house, Ed
wasn’t really surprised. The inside was just as fancy as the outside, but it was far homier than
Ed had imagined. Instead of a stale, office-like feel (because all Mustang really cared about
was work) or cold, store-like feel (just to show off to his flocks of sex friends and superior
officers), it was actually really nice.

If Ed ignored how high class it was, he might go so far as to say that it reminded him of his
childhood home. Six pictures tastefully decorated the walls of the living room. Two of
Mustang with the Hughes family. One of a party with what Ed presumed was Mustang’s unit.
One of a seven or eight-year-old Mustang with a little blonde girl. One just of Elicia,
probably at Maes’s insistence. And a final picture of Maes and Mustang, much younger and
with dog tags. It was most likely taken while they were still recruits. Mustang snapped
behind him, drawing Ed’s attention to a large fireplace.

“The kitchen is through there with the dining room just past it, and the bathroom is to your
left. Make yourself at home.” Mustang dropped his keys in a small glass bowl near front
door, hung his sleek black overcoat on the coat rack, and made his way to the staircase. “Your
bedroom is this way.”

Ed gripped his books tighter and readjusted his duffel before following. They walked up the
staircase, Mustang far more at ease than Ed. It opened out to a hallway with three closed
doors and one door-less entranceway leading to what looked like a sitting room. Mustang
pointed to the door at the end of the hallway.

“That’s my room. You’ll have to go through there to get to the shower. Be sure to knock
first.” He motioned to the room on the left of his bedroom next. “That’s the study. You can
use it if you like, but try not to move anything. I’m an organized man and, in that room
especially, everything is exactly where I like it to be.”

He walked over to the door between the sitting room and his bedroom, giving Ed the
impression that he should follow. “I didn’t exactly have a guest bedroom before this, so I just
bought a dresser and bed for you and put them in the room I thought you would like most. I
hope you don’t mind.”

Ed frowned at that, but he could hardly find it in himself to be snarky when the door opened
to reveal a large library with a twin bed sitting neatly in the corner. It was exactly far enough
from the wall to be able to reach the books behind it. The dresser sat in the only shelf-less
corner of the room, likely replacing a reading chair. Ed walked inside in near awe, barely
managing to drop his things on the bed before wandering over to one of the shelves to skim
the titles.

Some he had read. Some he had never heard of before. There were even a few that he had
searched multiple libraries for but was never able to find. He very carefully pulled a long
sought after book from the shelf and cracked it open.
A page and a half later, Ed was snapped out of his own little world by the sound of a man
clearing his throat. Heat rushed to Ed’s cheeks as he glanced up. He had
legitimately forgotten Mustang was there. Ed licked his lips, trying to think of some halfway
reasonable excuse, but there was nothing.

“I take it you’re alright with your current arrangements? If not, I can--”

“No, no, this is good!” Ed held up the book and his free hand in a stop motion.

Yeah, it was probably more of a carefully executed manipulation than a well-this-room-is-

easiest-to-work-with type of thing, but if Ed had to live with the bastard, he may as well take
full advantage of it. Besides, he had been searching for the book in his hand for three years.
Not even his pride could deprive him of reading it now.

Ed lowered his hands, not liking how easily he was playing into Mustang’s plans but
unwilling to give up this room now that he knew he could have it.

“Thanks.”

It was really the least Mustang could do after Ed saved his life, but the older man wasn’t
aware that Ed had done so in the first place, so Ed guessed this made them even.

“My pleasure.” Mustang smirked, and Ed frowned, knowing he had just fed the fire that was
Mustang’s ego. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

Mustang turned and left the room without flourish. Ed glanced at the book in his hands,
reassured himself that it would be there when he got back, and gently set it on the bed. He
called out, “Wait a second,” and hurried out of the library.

Mustang paused to look back with a half-curious, half-bored expression.

“Why did you pick me?”

Mustang raised both brows, as pretentious as he was condescending. “Who knows? Maybe
I’m just really into blondes.” He turned and entered his study, leaving Ed to sputter in the
hallway.

“But Tringham is—”

Mustang shut the door behind him. Ed cursed at the Colonel for a full minute before making
his way back to his new room. Another minute after that, he was lost in the pages of a book.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy hadn’t originally planned to live with Edward. Fullmetal was the type of guy that needed
to fall slowly, then have the realization of romantic relations smack him in the face.
And Roy was patient. He had plenty of time to lure Fullmetal in and plenty of willing bodies
(checked and clean) lined up to sate him until he was close enough to Edward to begin
courting traditionally. Edward being forced into a situation he didn’t want would only push
them further apart.

Unless, of course, Roy played his cards right.

The more he was willing to risk, the more he could gain. There were two very good reasons
he had avoided this move in the first place.

First, Edward was an unpredictable player. As soon as Roy felt confident that he had the
blonde figured out, a whole new layer revealed itself. Similarly, any time Roy was sure of
Edward’s next move, the man would turn around and do the opposite, rendering all of Roy’s
careful planning null and void.

Second, at this accelerated rate, if Roy messed up, that would be it. There would be no do-
overs or fixes. Edward wouldn’t give Roy another chance. Not ever. Not in any way that
could breed trust.

The only reason it was worth risking at all was because Edward was hiding something.
Something that had to do with Roy. Something that had to do with them both. And Roy,
much as it pained him to admit it, couldn’t let it go.

In the ideal scenario, he’d find out what had happened during his inheritance (leading to
this thing between them) and get Edward to fall for him at the same time. The key would be
how he revealed his intentions. Edward had more than once referred to Roy as a morally
bankrupt Colonel with a god complex, so it wasn’t out of the question to think he would jump
to conclusions over why Roy wanted them together.

The Colonel sipped his morning coffee, enjoying the calm before the storm. Said storm
proceeded to walk down the steps and enter the kitchen. Edward was pleasantly ruffled, hair
mussed from sleep and messily tossed into a high pony tail. He wore sweatpants along with a
loose yet fitting sleeveless shirt. That was all.

Two feet—one tan, the other shiny—poked out from under the ends of fringed black trousers.
Strong arms were bared for the world to see: one tan and toned, the other silver and covered
with grooves and rivets. Edward met Roy’s eyes, and they had a short staring contest before
the younger of the two spoke.

“Mind if I use your phone?”

Roy shook his head and waved Edward towards the phone on the wall. He took another sip of
his coffee as Edward turned away. Roy’s attention drifted across broad shoulders and down a
strong backline before settling on Edward’s delightfully firm ass. Long legs shifted as
Edward dialed a number on the phone, clearly not giving a damn whether Roy eavesdropped.

“Hey, Al, I know I said I would—” Edward stopped, presumably because his brother cut him
off. He shifted his weight again. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just got caught up and . . .” He
trailed off. Roy assumed they had been trying to speak at the same time and Alphonse won
out. There was a longer pause than before. Edward tensed. “Roy fucking Mustang.”

Personally, Roy was just impressed that Edward could say his name with so much distaste
after being so adorable the night before.

“Yeah, him.” Edward shifted a third time and ran his free hand through his bangs. “I’ll be
fine. If the bastard tries anything, I’ll kick his ass and be done with it.”

Roy scoffed. Edward tossed up his middle finger.

“Since when have I been a cause of worry?” Edward laughed. “Alright. Tell Winry and
Granny Pinako that I’ll visit soon, and Al?” A shorter pause. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Seconds passed, then Edward hung the phone on the wall.

“That was touching.”

Was Roy mocking Edward? Yes. Did Edward’s near-growl of irritation and muttered
obscenity make Roy want to do it again? Yes, indeed.

“Shut it, Mustang.”

It was a quiet jab, and Roy immediately gathered that, save for his brother, Fullmetal wasn’t a
morning person.

“Now, now, Fullmetal, with how much you tell me to stop talking, I’m beginning to think you
only like me for my body.”

Roy smirked at Edward, who gave him a blank look and deadpanned, “Took you long
enough.” Then blonde hair swung around so Edward could raid Roy’s fridge.

Roy coughed to hide a chuckle. “What can I say? I expected better from you.”

Edward didn’t respond directly, instead shutting the fridge and rifling through Roy’s cabinets
and drawers. By the time Roy said, “You know, you could always just ask me where
something is,” Edward had already pulled a box of cereal down from the fridge and found a
spoon. The younger man scoffed, not pausing his search, and a few seconds later Roy spoiled
it for him with a simple, “Two cabinets to your left.”

Edward paused, huffed in irritation, and finally moved to the correct cabinet to retrieve a
bowl.

“Bastard.”

But there was little to no venom in it. Edward took his seat across from Roy without looking
at him. He poured dry cereal into the bowl and started to eat.

“You know, I really didn’t think you’d need me to tell you this, but the milk is in the fridge.”
Fullmetal looked up from his meal, if it could be called that, with a scowl. “I don’t drink
milk, Mustang.”

An amused smile tugged at the edges of Roy’s lips. Edward didn’t just not like milk. He
seemed almost repulsed by it.

“You could always make an omelet.” Or literally anything other than dry cereal. Roy sipped
his coffee, enjoying the scalding heat and wash of acidity on his tongue. Edward muttered
something into his cereal.

“Fullmetal?”

Amber eyes snapped up. Full lips twisted into a frown. “I said I can’t cook. Happy now?”

Roy blinked once. Twice. A smug, mocking smirk made its way to his lips. Edward’s scowl
deepened, but Roy was being nice. He could’ve laughed. He’d wanted to laugh.

“Would you like me to cook for you?”

Edward’s glare harshened before lightening up. He placed his elbows on the table,
mismatched fingers threaded together to make a seat for his chin. “First day and you’re
already making me breakfast? And here I had you pinned as a commitment-phobe.” His body
language screamed arrogance, but it was what he didn’t broadcast that interested Roy.

Edward hadn’t said no, and that spoke volumes.

Roy exchanged his smirk for a charming smile. He walked around the table, and once he was
directly behind Edward, leaned down to murmur, “I told you already, Fullmetal.
I’m really into blondes.”

Soft blonde locks tickled Roy’s nose. He smelled chalk, old books, and something musky—
something dangerous—before straightening and heading to the fridge. Edward wanted Roy to
stumble in his act, but Roy had been playing the seduction game for longer than he could
remember. He glanced back for a reaction and nearly faltered when he saw bright pink
dusting tan cheeks.

If Edward blushed that fiercely without Roy even touching him, what would he do when—

“Wait, you’re seriously making me breakfast?”

Roy laid the ingredients out on the table without responding.

Edward pressed on. “Why?”

“Are you saying you don’t want it?”

Years on the road, an apparent inability to cook, and the usual lack of money (thanks to both
Al’s schooling and damage control), had Roy betting that Edward wasn’t one to turn down a
free meal. Especially not a homecooked one.
Roy glanced back with a taunting smirk firmly in place, if only to make Edward squirm a
little more. The blonde glared fiercely, defensively, but didn’t say anything. Roy counted the
silence as a win. A speechless Fullmetal was rare.

Minutes passed in easy silence while Roy cooked. Easy for Roy, anyhow. Edward was
burning a hole in the back of the Colonel’s head. Roy separated the omelet from the pan,
plated the food, and set it in front of Edward without any sort of flourish, knowing that the
lack of his usual finesse would only confuse and irritate the blonde more. He poured Edward
a glass of orange juice before returning to his seat, and Roy ignored his own drink to pin the
younger man with a lazy stare.

Fullmetal moodily stabbed the omelet before giving Roy a pointed look and stuffing it
gracelessly into his mouth. He paused his chewing to stare at Roy with something between
disbelief and amazement. The urge to smile warmed Roy’s belly. He kept his expression
lightly curious and patiently awaited the inevitable.

“You’re a bastard. You know that, right?”

Roy grinned. “So I’ve been told.” Many, many times. And not just by Edward, either. As
much as he wanted to help the country and the people within, this was a political battle.
People were bound to get, at the very least, pissed off.

Edward hummed and continued stuffing his face. That was probably one of the largest, most
notable differences between them. Edward’s grace was always natural. The way he walked,
fought, and even pieced together a complicated hypothesis was just however he felt like
doing it. He never put on a show for other people. Roy’s grace (which doubled and even
tripled the amount of Edward’s natural grace at most points in time) was duly calculated.

Sometimes it was overpowering, letting people know who, exactly, was in charge within
seconds. Sometimes it was subtle, enough to be noticed but not enough to fully entrance or
intimidate. And sometimes, when he was at home after a long yet not particularly rough day,
he had a lazy, natural grace about him. At this point, Roy’s grace was subtle. Enough to piss
Edward off and nothing more.

Of course, Edward’s added irritation hardly made an appearance through his usual crass
demeanor. He shoveled food into his mouth, uncaring how he looked in front of one of the
military’s most prominent officers. Roy waited until the food was nearly gone before
speaking again.

“How did you sleep?”

“What’s it to you?”

Defensive. Roy loved it when Fullmetal distrusted his charms. He hadn’t known he found
intelligence so attractive until he’d met Edward. “Just making polite conversation.”

Roy smiled, and Edward looked at him as though he was no more trustworthy than a theater
villain. He downed his entire glass of orange juice, drawing Roy’s eyes to his bobbing
Adam’s apple. The glass clanked against the table as Edward set it down.
“I didn’t.”

Roy cocked a brow, wondering both if Edward was really that on edge about being in his
house and what had mussed up his hair if not sleeping.

“Arrogant bastard. It’s got nothing to do with you. I just got caught up reading is all.”

Roy could understand that. He had spent enough nights pouring over the science of flame
alchemy, battle strategies, and politics. “What were you reading about?”

Roy was genuinely interested in which book Edward had started with, but the distrust
Edward eyed him with wasn’t unfounded. The information may or may not be used for Roy’s
benefit later.

Edward tapped his finger against the empty glass, eyes focused on something only he could
see. “The rules of equivalent exchange state that we have to give what we get. Equivalent to
Whom is one of the original works expounding on why and how. It even has mentions of the
Gate. A lot of the science is out of date, obviously, but if it’s actually molecular
rearrangement like this book implies, then the combination of circles can be done without the
algorithms used today. And with what we now know about the Gate, putting this information
into action would hardly take any time at all.

“It may even be possible to manipulate the rearrangement of molecules to make the final
product more stable. Same ingredients. Better end-product quality. Usually that takes more
concentration and specifics in the circle that most people either don’t bother with or don’t
know about. If we can simplify it into a common practice—” Edward cut himself off. He met
Roy’s eyes, seeming to think something over, before leaning back and scratching above his
ponytail. “Sorry. I know that’s not what you asked. I’m used to bouncing ideas off of Al.”

He certainly didn’t look sorry, but there was a tinge of offhanded apology in his voice.

“You’re fine. How does molecular rearrangement being the process change anything?”

It seemed to Roy that how alchemy worked—science or magic or the Gate or whatever—
didn’t matter so long as it kept working. Of course, Roy had also assumed that as long as they
could manipulate the overall reaction, that was what really mattered. But if these theories
could make his alchemy stronger . . .

Fullmetal looked at Roy for a moment before biting his lip, probably thinking about how to
explain it. As much as Edward didn’t like talking to Roy, he loved talking about alchemic
theory.

“Because we choose runes and arrangements based on what we need. Runes are added to
increase the quality of the product, but if alchemy is actually molecular rearrangement than
changing some of the runes slightly or adding a singular concentration rune should have a
major impact on quality control.

“I haven’t tested anything yet to be sure, but the way we arrange them now is based on being
able to form a connection with the starting materials and the end product. If we take it a step
 further with molecule theory, the arrangements of our circles could be more precise without
any extra work. If I can figure out how to implement it, Al can publish a paper on it.
Spreading the information could help a lot of people.”

“Why Alphonse and not you?”

Roy half-stared at his housemate, interest light enough to make the question feel casual and
keep his burning curiosity out of sight. Edward eyed him for a long minute, this time more
warily, before running his tongue across his incisors and deepening his frown.

“Very funny, Mustang.”

Before Roy could do anything more than scrunch his brows, Edward stood and left. Roy
stayed put, choosing to wait for more information. Besides, if he wanted to actively engage in
talks like this, it looked like he had reading to do.

What in the hell was the current theory for why alchemy worked, anyhow?

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Roy awoke to the soft click of his doorknob. He watched his intruder enter through thick
lashes while discreetly slipping his glove on under his pillow. His fingers relaxed from their
snapping position when he spotted golden hair. Edward was trying (and failing) to sneak into
Roy’s room unnoticed. Though if reports were anything to be believed, stealth had never
been his strong suit.

Which raised the question: Why?

They still had a good hour or so before getting up should have been considered. Even then,
there was a snooze button for a reason. Edward paused near the bed, giving Roy a view of
both his well-defined abs and the towel draped over his shoulders. If it were lighter, Roy
would probably be able to make out specific battle wounds. Edward tilted his head, stared for
another long moment, then scoffed and finished his walk to the bathroom. Once the water
started running, Roy stopped pretending to sleep.

Edward didn’t strike him as an early riser, and he certainly hadn’t gone to sleep early. So,
why was he up? Roy closed his eyes again, his non-gloved hand running lazily through
unkempt locks. Going back to bed crossed his mind, then vanished.

Go to sleep when Edward was naked and dripping wet a single room away?

Right.

Roy rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. It wasn’t like class was going to start any
earlier, and he didn’t have to be at work until after his classes ended. His only reason to think
about get up required the shower. After all, there was no telling when Edward would emerge
again, and Roy had no urge to get caught with his pants down.

Not yet, anyway.

When the bathroom door opened again, so did Roy’s eyes. Edward paused for a moment
before sneering and making his way out of the room. Roy didn’t miss the way those brilliant
eyes swept over his naked chest first though.

Edward was attracted to him. It was obvious, if not for the quick glances and the swooning
(which really didn’t suit him) than for the way Edward had watched him in class. Fullmetal
didn’t like Roy himself, but he did like Roy’s body, and that was a step in the right direction.
A direction that would have golden eyes hazing over in pleasure, pretty lips parting to ask for
more while they—

And now he needed the shower.

Roy sighed, throwing off his duvet and standing in a single motion. He tugged off his glove
and tossed it onto his pillow. Then, having nothing else to take off, he strode into the
bathroom. It looked like he would need the extra time Edward had provided him with after
all.

After a long masturbation session and a quick wash, Roy found himself alone in the kitchen.
Edward had an appetite to rival an army and had been awake for who knew how long. He
should’ve already been raiding Roy’s pantry.

Roy glanced around the kitchen again, then went back upstairs. He stopped outside the
library and used cloth-covered knuckles to rap on the door.

“Fullmetal, it’s almost time to go.”

No response.

“Fullmetal?”

The house was quiet when there should have been a loud, disgruntled blonde. Roy pressed
his thumb and middle fingers together, opened the door, and stopped short. The library had
been, for lack of a better word, wrecked.

Books covered the floor and furniture with no apparent logic or pattern. Notebooks and
pieces of illegibly-scribbled-on paper were strewn randomly about. And beneath that? Chalk
marks. The only thing the room didn’t have was Edward.

Roy frowned as he examined his once immaculate library. He wasn’t one to jump to
conclusions, but it looked an awful lot like Edward had left without him.

Frustration sparked in his chest. He’d expected Edward to be difficult, but this was just
childish. It was a fucking ride to school. A trip that Roy had to make on his own anyway. He
closed the door softly to avoid messing up whatever kind of “order” Fullmetal had
established.

Did Edward just not want to be seen with him? It was a fine possibility, but it was also
basically nullified by Edward’s lack of care for what people thought. Maybe he wanted to
check out his new surroundings, what with his attraction to anything and everything
troublesome. But why not do that in the daylight?

Despite today’s early shower, their weekend together coupled with how often Edward
showed up late to class pointed to him being a late-riser. There had to be something Roy was
missing.

Roy was no closer to an answer as he entered Armstrong’s classroom. Then he saw Edward
reading in his usual seat at the back of the room, and all Roy wondered was how it had taken
him this long to figure it out. Edward was trying to show him that even if they lived together,
nothing was going to change. He was asserting his independence.
Well, that wasn’t something Roy wanted to take. He wanted Edward because the man was so
independent. Years in the military had done absolutely nothing to curb Edward’s
rebelliousness, if that was any indication of his ability to be swayed.

Edward wasn’t something that could be captured or tamed. The goal wasn’t to snuff out
Edward’s flame but to get close enough to feel its heat. Roy didn’t know what it was about
Fullmetal, but the younger man made him feel alive. Just coming in contact made his Core
spark to life, even more so since coming into his inheritance.

Roy walked over to his normal seat. If Edward wanted space, he could have it. They would
close the gap in time.

“C-congratulations.”

Sheska’s soft voice caught Roy’s attention more so than usual, as it wasn’t by his side. She’d
approached Edward, who had yet to look up from his book. Roy positioned himself to appear
as though he was paying more attention to whatever Russell was rambling on about, attention
on the back of the room.

Sheska fiddled with the hem of her shirt, confidence crumbling under the pressure of
initiating a conversation with Edward. On Roy’s other side, Russell continued to rant.

“Roy, I know this is part of some bigger picture, but I don’t understand what that picture is.
Why him?”

Roy only smiled, playing up the mystery as part of his charm, and focused on what Sheska
had to say.

She mumbled, “I-I know you don’t . . . don’t really like the C-colonel, but I’m really ha-
happy for you.”

Even though she’d hoped to be chosen herself, her happiness for him was sincere. Edward
scribbled something else in his notebook, not even pretending to pay attention.

It’d taken quite a few conversations in the library for Roy to realize that Edward didn’t
always ignore people on purpose. He was just too absorbed in his own world to take reality
into account. Maes would never let Roy live down that he had figured this out in one meeting
while Roy had taken three. But then, Edward ignored Roy on a regular basis, so it was
different.

Sheska’s fidgeting grew more prominent as the seconds slipped by. A blush crept up her
cheeks, doubtlessly assuming she was being deliberately ignored. As far as Roy knew, the
poor girl had only ever spoken to Edward as he entered or left the library, not when he was in
the middle of research.

Another minute passed before Sheska bowed her head and hurried back to her usual place by
Roy. She was embarrassed and ashamed. Perhaps a part of her crush on Edward remained
even after all this time.
That, after all, was why Roy had enchanted her in the first place.

It wasn’t like she could be with Edward anyway. They both had Energy Cores. He was
stopping the inevitable heartbreak where it stood. Besides, Sheska was too gentle for Edward.
He needed someone to challenge him. To take care of him. Just the same, he needed someone
he could take care of. Someone to be his equal. Sheska just wasn’t suitable for the job.

It was much preferred that she break her heart on Roy, just in case Edward (assuming he
would ever notice her interest) decided to give her a shot. It would be harder to get over a
man who gave her a chance than one who was forever a fantasy.

Roy made eye contact, offering her a gracious smile along with a mouthed “thank you.” He
would’ve said it aloud, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to Russell’s whining at being
interrupted. Especially when the answer to why he was being interrupted revolved around
Edward. There was a rivalry between the two that only Russell acknowledged. Roy, as a
general rule, found it mildly entertaining.

The older of the Tringham brothers had plenty of flaws, his quickness to jump to conclusions
being one of them, but he was a good man overall. He cared about his brother more than his
own life, and, much like Edward, was working toward giving his younger sibling a better life.
Roy had met Fletcher on a few occasions, but the younger brother had never struck Roy as
anything special. Not like the one time he’d met Alphonse. Brilliance ran in the Elric family,
and while the Tringhams were bright, they just couldn’t compare.

Armstrong entered the room, and Roy turned his full attention to the front. Unlike Edward, he
couldn’t afford not to pay attention.

(***Intertwined***)

One week. One week of leaving early, reading everything he could get his hands on, creating
new notes and theories, and avoiding Mustang. One week and Mustang had finally decided to
end his peace by knocking on his door.

And speaking.

Continuously.

“Fullmetal, you have to eat eventually. Come down already.”

Ed had been eating, just not with the bastard on the other side of the door.

“Come on, Edward. Don’t make me break down the door to my own library.”

Ed briefly wondered how Mustang knew he’d transfigured a deadbolt onto the door. Instead
of questioning it, he sighed and stood. He tiptoed his way around the mess of his room to get
to the door. When he opened it, Mustang smiled at him.
The man had settled in since getting off work. Ed wasn’t entirely sure what time it was, so he
couldn’t say how long ago that was (not that Mustang’s schedule was any more consistent
than Ed’s), but it looked like it’d been a while.

“I’m not hungry.”

A lie, but he could eat later. After Mustang had disappeared into his study.

“I have steak.”

Ed couldn’t help it. He perked up.

Mustang must’ve seen it, too, because he quickly continued, “From the little diner down on
Fifth Street.”

Ed scowled. That was his favorite restaurant. He stepped out into the hall and shut the door
behind him. Mustang didn’t back up to give him more room. This close, he could feel the tug
of Mustang’s Core. Warm and comforting. Alluring. Ed moved away faster than was strictly
natural. He headed for the stairs, uncaring if Mustang followed.

When Ed got to the kitchen, he was surprised to see a singular take-out box and books. He
blinked, looking around for a second box but seeing none.

Mustang stepped into the room and motioned to the table. “Dig in.”

Ed sneered at the arrogance dripping from those two little words. He was tempted to take the
box and return to his room. Curiosity, as it so often did, convinced him to stay where he’d
really rather not be.

“Where’s yours?”

Mustang blinked at him, then sat down. “I ate at the restaurant like a normal person”—he
trailed off as he flipped through the pages of the nearest book—“with a rather lovely lady
named Michelle.”

Ed opened his mouth to make a snide comment about how it was amazing Mustang had
managed to reign in his sex drive long enough to bring food home when logic stepped in.
Heavy boots closed the distance between Ed and the table. He flipped the lid of the
paperboard container up to see a full meal. Not leftovers.

Ed couldn’t be sure whether Michelle had done something to turn him off or if Mustang had
never planned on taking her home in the first place, but he’d decided on coming home and
giving Ed food before the date ended. Ed pursed his lips, turning instead to Mustang’s small
stack of books.

They looked familiar, and Ed only had to think for a moment to realize that the Colonel was
working on their paper for Theoretical vs. Practical Transmutations. Ed had only chosen to
cite two of the five books that Mustang was using, but the others weren’t bad choices. He
glanced at his steak one last time, then turned and went back up the steps.
A few minutes later, he was downstairs again with three books of his own and a notebook. He
set the books down next to his food before taking the lightest one and placing it forcefully on
top of what Mustang was writing. Mustang lifted his head, but Ed made sure not to meet his
eyes.

“That’ll give you more in-depth versions of the same information in both Jhendal’s and
Coria’s books.”

Ed refused to say anything more as he sat down and dug into his meal, eyes already picking
up where he had left off upstairs. Mustang didn’t say anything, but Ed heard a chair scrape
against the wooden floor and the thump of what he would be willing to bet were two books
being placed on said chair. After that, Ed paid more attention to his food and studies than the
man beside him. Though, if only in the back of his mind, he would admit that having
Mustang so close made his Core hum happily.

The food didn’t last very long, but Ed didn’t head back to his room. He spread out and took
more notes.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before a wave of sleepiness warned him to go to
bed, but Ed found himself yawning and re-observing his surroundings nonetheless. Mustang
was hard at work, pouring over the book Ed had given him.

Mustang looked the most at home Ed had ever seen him. The sleeves of his white dress-shirt
were rolled up to his elbows, and the first three buttons were undone, revealing attractive
tufts of black hair. One hand threaded into thick black locks while the other wrote elegant
script on notebook paper that Mustang wasn’t even looking at.

Roy Mustang was undeniably handsome.

It actually hurt a little to look at him. The man being physically attractive was one thing. That
combined with his intelligence was what did Ed in. He wasn’t a genius, but he was a quick
learner. More than that, he had the drive to put his intelligence and quick-wit to good use.

Mustang thought on his feet and made difficult judgment calls in both combat and social
situations that somehow always ended with him on top. Ed may have been able to destroy
Mustang academically, but the other man could walk circles around him socially. Friends and
enemies alike could find themselves enchanted by him, if only for a few minutes.

Then Mustang’s inability not to be a bastard would shine through. He would make some
snide comment or manipulate someone into doing what he wanted. He would sneer at the
thought of something getting in his way. He would offer up a sardonic smile that was just as
much a threat—just as dangerous—as if he’d raised a gloved hand in preparation to snap.

Mustang was ambitious, smart, persuasive, charming, charismatic, cunning, dangerous, and
so many other things that Ed wasn’t even aware of. In fact, even the list of things that he
knew—he knew—about Mustang could be false. They weren’t exactly close. If Ed was being
completely honest, there was only one thing he could say without a doubt.

Mustang wanted to make a difference, and he could.

If Ed fell asleep staring at Roy Mustang that night, he would never admit to it.

(***Intertwined***)

A hand shook Ed’s bicep while a voice called him out of his sleepy haze. There was a crick in
his neck that he was used to waking up with but no urge to actually open his eyes. Instead, he
shifted and turned his head away. The grip on his arm only got stronger.

“No, Al. I was up late. Show me later.” He shook the hand off again.

“-al. Fullmetal, get up. It’s almost time to go.” A harder shake. “Edward—”

Geez, when did Al stop calling him Brother? And when did he get so forceful, and—

“God, Al! I’m up! When did your voice get so”—Ed opened his eyes, inflection dropping off
as he glared at Not-Alphonse—“deep.”

Mustang stood in front of him, long black petty coat pairing with his uniform to make him
look just a little too sleek. He canted his head toward the stairs. “Go get ready. We’re leaving
in ten minutes.”

Ed glanced at the clock, quickly putting together that Mustang had purposefully waited to
wake him until he couldn’t walk or run with any hope of getting to class on time.

“Fucking bastard.”

Ed raced up the steps, yanked off his clothes, and tossed them onto the only corner of the
floor that was actually visible. He redressed without caring what he wore and hurried back
down the stairs, cursing the entire way.

When he re-entered the kitchen, it was with a longing glance at the books he’d fallen asleep
on. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of his reading days. He also planned on going for a run
after class ended and maybe finding a sparring partner or two, so it didn’t make sense to
bring them for later. He mourned the few extra pages he could’ve read, had he remembered to
set his alchemic alarm system.

Mustang stood where Ed had left him, and Ed scowled before trudging out to the sleek black
vehicle and going over to the passenger side door. He would have slid into the passenger’s
seat, but Mustang apparently kept his car locked even in his garage. That forced Ed to huff,
cross his arms, and wait. Three minutes later, Mustang walked out, calmly put the keys into
the door and, after getting himself fully situated and the car turned on, unlocked Ed’s door.

“I told you ten minutes. No more, no less. Are you sure you’re in the military?”

“What can I say? I don’t make a very good dog.”

Mustang’s eyes slid over to Ed for a moment before he focused on backing out of his
driveway, onto the road. Ed stared stubbornly out the window.

“I know.”

There was something behind the words. Something taunting that didn’t seem to be aimed at
Ed. Ed’s resolve not to look at Mustang crumbled as he turned his head to fully study the
Colonel.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Calm down, Fullmetal. I was agreeing with you.”

But the playful arrogance in his tone was covering curiosity. Mustang didn’t know what Ed
knew and was trying to bait him. Which, in turn, meant there was something to know. Ed’s
eyes narrowed, and he hummed, contemplative, before moving his attention back out the
window. Mustang was hiding something, but he was always hiding something. Ed rarely had
reason to care. This time it wasn’t about some stupid political dance though. This time he was
hiding something about Ed.

It wasn’t his Core. Mustang would’ve just cornered him if he knew anything about that. By
proxy, that meant he also didn’t know about what had gone down during his inheritance. It
couldn’t have to do with Al because even Mustang knew that Ed would murder for his
brother without hesitation.

The quickest way to cut any and all ties with Ed was to hide something about Al, and cutting
ties was the opposite of what Mustang wanted. Ed would admit it bothered him more than a
little that something was being hidden about him, but . . .

Well, he was hiding information about Mustang, too. About his inheritance. If Ed had an
inheritance, he would want to know everything about it. Maybe what Mustang was hiding
was important. Maybe it wasn’t. For now, Ed would consider them even.

It wasn’t until they reached the school that either of them spoke again, and even that was just
so Ed could thank him for the ride. He was out of the car before the engine turned off.

If they walked to class together, it might give Mustang the wrong idea. They were
not friends. Ed didn’t want to be his friend. Mustang would only use Ed’s reputation to
further his career, then leave him in the dirt. Instead, Ed walked to class alone. He would’ve
sat in the back of the classroom alone, too, if Scar hadn’t been in his seat.

Ed blinked, then made his way over. Scar wouldn’t sit in his seat unless he had something to
say. Ed stopped in front of him, for once looking down at the much larger man, and waited.
Scar had been staring at Ed since he entered the classroom, eyes ever-hidden by his
sunglasses, so it wasn’t as much a matter of getting his attention as it was of waiting for the
normally silent man to speak. For a long minute, all Scar did was stare.

Then he said, “He’s not right for you.” The words were monotonous, and the voice was deep.
It was Ed’s turn to stare. “And?”

“Was this not arranged by the two of you?”

Inwardly, Ed wondered what other rumors were floating around. Outwardly, he sneered at the
thought of volunteering for two months with Mustang. “Nah. He just doesn’t know where to
draw the line with his stupid fucking pranks.”

Because that’s all this really was: a chance to make Ed uncomfortable. Scar didn’t respond
again, but he nodded and stood from Ed’s seat. Ed hesitated a moment before deciding there
would never really be a good time to make this particular point known. He called out to Scar.

“Hey.” Scar faltered and turned. Ed continued, “You aren’t right for me either, you know.”

Always an awkward conversation, but one that was better to get out of the way. Scar, as per
usual, preferred to stare rather than say anything. After two full minutes, Ed began to wonder
if he had misread the situation. Ed wasn’t exactly the most attractive man out there, so to
assume that Scar was romantically interested in him just because he showed a little concern
was—

“Not yet.”

Scar walked back to his usual seat, his attention turned out the window as though nothing had
happened. Ed stared for another minute, more than a little confused, before shaking his head
and taking his seat. He had yet to meet someone with a Water Core that liked to make sense.

The current Führer had a Water Core.

Ed’s attention returned only when his name was called. He turned his head to focus on
Armstrong, eyes drawn to the way the blue military uniform stretched across ever-flexing
muscles.

Ed, having always had a lithe build himself, wondered if it was hard to move normally with
that much musculature. Then again, Armstrong was swift enough in a fight for Ed to assume
he was capable of leading a normal life, if only he would wear looser clothing.

“Well, Edward? What do you think?”

Ed hesitated. He didn’t want to disappoint Armstrong, but the truth of it was that he just
hadn’t been listening.

“No need to think it over so heavily, Edward! How has your view on bonding changed since
you started living with Roy? Are you more excited for it now?”

Armstrong’s grin sparkled, too. His full attention weighed on Ed, and the Fullmetal
Alchemist glanced around to note that everyone else’s attention was on him, too. They
weren’t just trying to get through class. They wanted to know his answer. Ed paused on dark
sunglasses before moving to meet obsidian eyes and finally stopping on the window, where
they had started.
“I don’t plan on bonding.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. After a few seconds of silence, Armstrong’s jovial laughter cut
through the tension. “Oh, you are funny! Surely you—”

“I’m not joking. I won’t bond.”

He wouldn’t be anyone’s political steppingstone. The silence lasted longer this time, but Ed
refused to look away from the courtyard.

“Why wouldn’t you want—”

This time, it was the bell that interrupted them. When Ed tried to file out with everyone else,
Armstrong stopped him. The room emptied, however slowly, and the larger man closed the
door.

“Edward, this news concerns me.”

He looked concerned. He sounded concerned. Edward shrugged. Large hands landed on

either of Ed’s shoulders, forcing Ed to give Armstrong his full attention.

“You are very well-versed in the theoretics of bonding, there is no denying that, but you seem
not to be aware of the practicalities. It not only helps strengthen individual Cores,
but connects people.” He spoke of bonding with joy. The sparkles in the air behind him shone
brightly enough to blind.

“I get that. It’s just not”—physically possible—“for me. I don’t want it.”

It was a half-truth. Ed didn’t like lying, especially not to Armstrong. The man was so kind, so
genuine, that Ed hated the thought of being what hurt his fragile feelings.

“But Edward! One day you’ll find someone who will”—not be able to bond with Ed because
their Cores wouldn’t align—“love you as much as you love them! This world has forced you
to grow up too quickly, but you cannot lose hope, my young friend.”

Couldn’t lose hope. Right. Ed’s hope of finding an Activation Fire Core holder who would
want him for him had burned down along with his childhood home. Now it was all about
making sure Al had whatever he wanted.

“Thanks, but I should really be going.”

Ed raised his hand to rub the back of his neck, uncomfortable with getting any deeper into the
conversation. Armstrong accepted his apologetic smile and lame excuse after only a moment
of sympathetic staring and sent Ed off with a strong (too strong, really) pat on the back.

As he left the classroom, Ed’s only thoughts were on the training he was about to force his
body to endure.
Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Ed? You okay?”

Ed cracked his eyes open to see Maes leaning over him. He’d collapsed after finishing his
workout and had yet to find a reason to get up again.

“I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

Maes grinned and lifted a few shopping bags. “Just picking up some ingredients for dinner.
My beautiful daughter and gorgeous wife are cooking together. I think my little Elicia might
be a chef when she gets older. She’s just so talented! It’s clear where she gets it from. She—”

Ed cut Maes off with a tired but genuine laugh.

Maes’s grin widened, clearly pleased with the response. “Say, Ed. How about you come have
dinner with us tonight?”

Ed stared for a second before breaking into a grin. He was never one to turn down food.
“Only if you help me up.”

He raised his arm from its comfortable spot in the grass, and Maes shifted his bags to take
Ed’s hand. Ed groaned as he was pulled to his feet, every centimeter of his body protesting
the movement.

“My car is over there. We’ve got to make a small stop on the way so I can pick up one more
little thing. That is, if you don’t mind?”

Maes’s smile didn’t falter. Ed plucked his cloak off the ground and slung it over his shoulder.
They walked in the direction Maes had gestured. “Not like I have anything else to do.”

Ed slipped into the passenger’s seat of the vehicle while Maes situated the groceries in the
back. Once Maes joined him, the conversation continued.

“So no homework, I take it?”

Maes glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Ed shrugged. “I don’t know. Al has my
syllabi, so if I don’t do it the day it’s assigned, he calls me the night before it’s due as a
reminder.”

“The night before it’s due? Isn’t that cutting it pretty close?” Maes sounded amused. Ed
shrugged again. It was always plenty of time. “How’s Al doing nowadays? He making any
progress with Winry?”
Ed scoffed at that one, turning his head to look at the intelligence specialist. “You know how
he is. Al would rather live as friends for the next ten years and be sure she’ll say yes than
make a move ‘too early’ and risk what they have now.” He rolled his eyes. Winry was a little
dense when it came to Al’s feelings, sure, but she cared about him. She cared a lot more than
“just friends.”

Maes chuckled knowingly. “Well, it is scary. I wanted to be certain before I confronted my

Gracia, but her beauty and magnificence overwhelmed me, and I just couldn’t wait. I walked
right up to her and—actually, hold on. We’re here. You want to run in with me?”

Ed looked out the windshield to see Central Command looming over them. Maes wasn’t
usually one to bring his work home with him—at least, not outside of an emergency—so
what could he need to pick up?

Curiosity gnawed at Ed’s thoughts. He nodded. “Sure.”

Ed hadn’t actually been inside Central Command in more than a year thanks to the academy.
He got out of the car and walked amicably beside of Maes, only half-listening to the other
man ramble on about his incredible family. The pictures were out. An extra photo was stuffed
into Ed’s pocket.

It was nice to see Maes’s attitude toward him hadn’t changed even after learning about his
Core. Before Mustang’s inheritance, only Al, Winry, and Granny Pinako had known. And
while one extra person wasn’t the biggest accomplishment, it did give Ed a small sense of
relief. At least some things would never change.

Ed thought about expressing his thanks aloud—actively stating how much the normalcy
meant to him—but this was Maes Hughes. He probably already knew.

They took turns that Ed had never personally used before, and he allowed his attention to
wander as they made their way through the labyrinth of a building. Maes eventually stopped
outside a door with no label. Behind that door sat four very different men.

Ed’s attention was drawn first to the two men playing chess. One of them was short and
stocky with auburn hair styled in a shaggy crew-cut. His laid-back demeanor and open
uniform jacket gave the implication of laziness and a lack of reliability, but his eyes told a
different story. They were a dark, intelligent brown, and they knew more than they let on. Ed
would say he probably knew why Maes was there and was currently cataloging Ed.

His opponent was taller and leaner. He looked older, his facial structure more defined. Gray
hair was also in a crew cut, but the top was longer than the first man’s. The taller one’s eyes
were mostly closed, and he had a gentle smile on his face. That smile looked too much like
Maes’s for Ed to think the man any less intelligent than the guy he was playing against.

On the other side of the room, there was one man who looked a fair amount younger than the
others. He had spiked black hair (naturally so, it seemed) and large brown eyes. He wore
glasses that only had frames on the top-half. His body language was tenser than his
companions, but Ed would bet he hadn’t gotten into this group by being jumpy. He was more
obvious in his observations, looking Ed over like he was a story book character that the
young man had never expected to meet.

Behind the young guy was a tall, lean blonde man with a cigarette in his mouth. He was
leaning back in his chair with his combat boots resting on his desk, a half-interested
expression on his face as he looked Ed over. He didn’t have the same amount of intelligence
racing through his eyes, but Ed had found that rarely meant much. Ed’s instincts said the
older blonde was a good man, and that was all that really mattered.

“Hughes! Long time no see.” The auburn-haired man spoke, a smile curling his lips. “Who’s
your friend?” He nodded towards Ed.

Ed stepped forward before Maes could introduce him. “Name’s Ed. We’re just here to pick
something up.”

He thought about saying Elric, but there was no way to tell how they would feel about the
Alchemist of the People. Being on Maes’s good side gave him a few points to start the game
off, but Ed wasn’t in the mood to deal with stuck up military officials in case those points
weren’t enough.

The gray-haired man grinned. “Nice to meet you, Ed.”

A chorus of ‘hey’ and ‘hello’ followed that. It looked like the auburn-haired man was going
to continue into an introduction when a gunshot sounded from an office in the back. Ed
immediately stilled, hands moving to transmute his arm into a weapon. Maes put a steadying
hand on his shoulder.

The blonde smoker grinned around his cigarette. “Don’t worry about that. It’s just Hawkeye
getting the boss man back on track.”

After a reassuring look from Maes, Ed lowered his defenses.

“Speaking of the boss man . . .” Maes trailed off. His hand slipped from Ed’s shoulder as he
walked toward the door the shot had sounded from.

Ed chose not to follow him, and that was probably for the best as Maes entered the office
without knocking (clearly a good friend). A few minutes later, a blonde woman came out,
shutting the door softly behind her. She had her hair pinned up into a bun, stern brown eyes
immediately running over the occupants of the room and stopping on Ed. Her eyes narrowed.

“May I help you with something, Major Elric?”

She didn’t seem pleased, but she didn’t seem displeased, either. Ed scratched the back of his
head with a sheepish smile as his identity was leaked. “Nah. I’m having dinner with Maes,
but he needed to pick something up first. I’m assuming he’s getting it from whoever’s in
there.” Ed pointed at the door, and the woman gave something just short of an amused smile.

The black haired soldier said, “So, you’re really the famous Fullmetal Alchemist? Do you
really have automail? I mean, it’s such a controversial science that—I’m sorry. I get too
excited sometimes. My name is Sergeant Major Kain Fuery, but I usually go by Fuery.”

The youngest of the group smiled, and Ed grinned back. He was used to the questioning and
personally just pleased that this wasn’t one of the groups with something against him.

Ed said, “Yeah. Though I wouldn’t call myself famous. And it’s really nothing special.” He
shrugged off one shoulder of his red, hooded cloak to reveal his automail before righting it
again.

“Well, whether it’s your preferred wording or not, you are famous.” The gray-haired man’s
words drew Ed’s attention next. “Vato Falman, at your service.”

He smiled kindly, and Ed nodded back.

“I guess it’s introductions all around, huh? I’m Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda. Just call
me Breda.” The only one not keeping to uniform standards (not that Ed had any room to talk)
nodded to Ed.

“Guess that leaves me. I’m Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. And ignoring the fame thing, you
did travel a lot, right?”

Ed tilted his head before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Then you must’ve met a ton of women! I know you have to worry about being picky
because of the whole bonding thing, but I don’t have that issue. Is there anyone you could
call?” Havoc stood and crossed the room to sling one arm over Ed’s shoulders. He drew a
horizontal line in front of them with his other arm, wrist bent and fingers splayed. “Just
picture it, Fullmetal. You and me, a fancy restaurant, two gorgeous ladies sitting across from
us, all dolled up and in nice, short, low-cut dresses—”

Havoc stopped short as a bullet flew directly between their heads, and Ed’s eyes went straight
to the final blonde in the room.

“Hawkeye. As nice as it is to meet you, it would be best if everyone got back to work.”

Her pistol was already re-cocked. Ed was about to take that as his cue to wait for Maes in the
car when the office door opened again, allowing its occupants to exit. Havoc’s arm was heavy
on his shoulder as two very masculine figures entered the room: Maes and—

“Colonel Bastard?”

No fucking way.

Ed wanted to look around, just to soak in the full reality of having met Mustang’s crew, but
he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the black haired, black eyed devil. A crooked smile made
its way to said devil’s lips, but only after they’d thinned into a tight line for a barely existent
second. Mustang hadn’t been pleased to see Ed at his workplace.

Ed scowled. Well, he hadn’t ever wanted to see where the bastard worked, either.
“Slow down with the pet names, Fullmetal. I’m shy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mustang. I may be tired, but I’ll always have the energy to punch that
damn smug grin off your face.”

Havoc removed his arm from Ed’s shoulders like he’d been burned. Ed glanced over, having
nearly forgotten he was there. Havoc looked surprised and a little wary, blue eyes glancing
between Ed and Mustang.

Mustang asked, “You sure you can reach that high?”

His taunt sparked pointless irritation deep in Ed’s chest, and Ed’s knuckles itched to bruise
that perfect jaw. “Come over here and let’s find out.”

And, like so often when Ed didn’t think before speaking, Mustang rose to the occasion. Long,
uniformed legs carried Mustang far too close to Ed. The arrogant Colonel’s smirk did stupid
things to Ed’s Core, baiting Ed to move even closer.

Ed’s hands curled into fists at the unfairness of it. He hated that his Core was doing backflips
for one of the biggest bastards of the century. If Mustang had any idea what he did to Ed’s
Core, he would use Ed until the blonde couldn’t take it anymore, then toss him away.

Before either Ed could throw a punch or Mustang could light Ed on fire, Maes placed one
hand on each of their chests and pushed them apart. “Now, now, boys. No fighting in the
house.”

Ed scowled up at Maes before crossing his arms and stepping back even farther to lean
against the wall. “Did you get what we came here for yet?”

“Yep.” Maes grinned and tugged Mustang forward by the arm. “I got it.”

Mustang looked at Maes, unamused. Ed balked. “That’s why we came here?” He wouldn’t
lie. Even the thought of spending dinner with Mustang made him want to scream.

Mustang returned his attention to Ed, and that infuriating smugness was back. “Already
objectifying me, Fullmetal? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

Mustang’s voice was spun sugar. Ed rolled his eyes. It was then that he realized no one had
left the room. Mustang’s entire team was staring at them as though this was their new favorite
show, and Ed felt blood rush to his cheeks. Reputation aside, he really didn’t like being the
center of attention.

“Shut up, Mustang.” But the bite in his voice was next to absent. Ed looked from Mustang to
Maes, exhaustion settling in. “Sorry, Maes. I’m going back to the house.”

The house. Never home.

In the back of his mind, Ed noted that it had been a while since he’d felt so tired.
 (***Intertwined***)

Roy wouldn’t call it an obsession. Obsession implied a lack of control. The feelings he
harbored for Edward, if properly categorized, would be filed under interest. And if he
happened to find everything about Edward interesting, it was because everything about
Edward was interesting, not because Roy was obsessed.

All of this interest, coupled with Roy’s meticulous, somewhat controlling nature meant that
he noticed, well, everything. He’d noticed Havoc’s arm slung a little too comfortably around
Fullmetal’s shoulders and resisted the urge to put a more literal spark between the two.

(Havoc was infallibly straight, yes, but that didn’t stop Roy from wanting to commandeer
Edward’s attention for himself.)

He’d noticed the flash of want in Edward’s eyes when they’d gotten close enough to touch.
He’d noticed the bitterness and pain fueling Edward’s anger directly after that want
disappeared. He’d noticed tired muscles tense up, ready to fight once more despite how
Edward had most likely run his body ragged (if his clothes and demeanor were anything to go
by) less than an hour prior.

And now he noticed the exhaustion. It was something Fullmetal rarely let surface: just how
much life had worn him down. For a splinter of a second, though, that was exactly what
broke through Edward’s walls.

And Roy noticed.

Maes released his hold on Roy, their gazes briefly connecting to exchange the knowledge that
Maes had seen it, too. Then Maes stepped forward, both hands up in a jokingly defensive
position. “C’mon, Ed. Gracia’s been worried about you taking care of yourself ever since Al
went to Resembool, and I already promised Elicia she’d get to see you tonight. Besides, I
know you’re hungry, and Gracia’s making the most delicious casserole you’ve ever had. Just
wait until you taste it. My beautiful wife is the best chef in the world, I swear.”

Edward (always an easy man to send on a guilt trip) faltered. Roy felt hands on both his
shoulders before he was pushed forward and presented to Fullmetal.

“And Roy here will be on his absolute best behavior. I promise.” Maes’s family-man charm
was turned to its highest notch. Roy gave Fullmetal an ‘I-suppose-I’ll-go-along-with-what-
he’s-saying’ look. Maes continued, soft and encouraging, “So, how’s about we give this one
more shot, and if Roy steps out of line, he can find his own dinner?”

Roy immediately noted that Fullmetal had been deemed more important and tossed his best
friend the mildly irritated look deemed most appropriate for the situation. There was a final
pause before Edward half-sighed, half-laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it already. I’ll wait in the car.” The hand moved to wave to the general
vicinity of the room. “It was nice meeting you guys.” Without waiting for a response, Edward
turned and left.

A single moment.

That was all Edward had given himself to prepare for whatever life dared to throw at him
next. One day, Roy wouldn’t simply give him more time. He would shove more time down
Edward’s throat, making sure the man knew he could let his guard down without anything
terrible happening.

As soon as Edward was out of earshot, the chatter began.

“What was that all about?” Fuery.

“I think he was seriously going to hit you, Colonel!” Havoc.

“Looks like you’d better watch yourself tonight.” Breda.

Falman and Hawkeye didn’t say anything, but their amusement was obvious.

Roy resisted the urge to sigh. “Let’s go, Maes.”

Roy walked out of the room after his housemate without another word. He would deal with
(and by deal he did mean shut down) his team’s curiosity the next day. For now, he was just
happy Maes had rescued him from the paperwork he’d been neglecting. And with Edward
waiting for him outside, why in the world would he want to waste time with coworkers?

Maes’s parting words sounded from behind. He caught up to Roy and used a hushed,
entertained voice to say, “You have his attention, you know. You’re living with him.”

He was referring, of course, to the way Roy antagonized Edward. It was rare that Roy tried to
irritate Edward as blatantly as he had in the office, but it was either that or set Havoc on fire.
Roy was a naturally jealous, possessive man. He wanted Edward’s attention, all of it, for
himself, and the only way he’d found to do that thus far was to make the man angry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maes’s grin widened. “Of course you don’t.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. It was tradition for Roy to come over for dinner every
other Friday, though Edward joining certainly wasn’t an unpleasant addition. As they reached
the parking lot, Roy spotted the blonde leaning against Maes’s car. With a nod, Roy split off
to head for his own vehicle.

Before he could get too far, he heard Maes say, “And make sure to leave that book in your
car. I don’t want to be there when Ed finds out you took it.” The smile was obvious in his
tone, even if Roy couldn’t see it.

Roy continued to his car, the book Maes was referring to tucked safely in the waist of his
jacket.
The book was the reason they’d taken so long in the office and why Maes had asked
Hawkeye to give them a moment alone. It’d only taken Maes seconds to note the journal
amidst the stacks of papers, identify it as Edward’s, and question Roy on it. Well, he less
questioned the journal itself and more why Roy had it.

Roy hadn’t planned on taking the journal that morning. He’d glanced at it when Edward was
getting ready. Flipped through the first few pages of intricate notes with mild understanding.
Then Edward had left without so much as glancing at it, and temptation won out. Roy slipped
it into his jacket before leaving. The notebook proceeded to distract him all day. Extra shots
were fired, but they were worth it.

Roy had been . . . surprised wasn’t the right word.

He knew Edward was brilliant. That had never been a question. The contents of the journal
were far above anything Roy could’ve imagined though. Some notes were simple or at least
common enough that Roy had been able to follow along. Some lost Roy when introducing
the components, let alone the theory. Some were seemingly unconnected thoughts. They
didn’t start or lead anywhere, just existed.

Roy, determined to comprehend what was written, only got through half the journal. If some
of Edward's theories were correct, and Roy wouldn’t be surprised if they were, then Edward
could revolutionize the way alchemy was taught.

Not that Roy had told Maes any of that. His best friend was a resource to draw from, not
dump information into.

Roy had tapped the cover of the journal with the butt-end of his pen and asked, “How long
has he been doing this?”

Maes hummed, his smile playful. “Years. He got into the habit while out in the field, but he’s
been doing it more often since he was forced into the academy. I think it’s so that he can
communicate more easily with his brother, but I haven’t asked.”

Maes loved it when Roy asked about Fullmetal. He often called Edward “Roy’s Gracia,” and
whenever Roy voiced any sort of interest in the blonde, Maes got giddy. It wasn’t as though
Roy had ever actually said that he wanted Edward. His best friend just knew him well enough
to notice the signs. That, and Maes had been waiting for the moment when Roy would get
serious about a romantic interest for years. Roy had agreed to enough blind dates to last a
lifetime thanks to that.

His interest had been purely political at first. Having the Alchemist of the People on his side
would do spectacular things for his image. Then he actually met the man.

Edward had walked up to him, a sixteen-year-old freshman who wasn’t intimidated in the
slightest by Roy or the gaggle of people around him. He was short, and his obnoxiously red,
hooded cloak only made him stick out more. His brash attitude didn’t help, either. Long
blonde hair had been pulled into a neat braid that somehow added to Edward’s masculinity.
Shaggy blonde bangs had framed his face.
 Golden hair made golden eyes stand out more, and the combination had given Roy
knowledge of the boy’s Xerxecian ancestry. More important than that, however, was
Edward’s awed demeanor. He’d had an eager look in his eyes that made everything on Roy’s
political agenda easier.

Mind already whirling with ways to use Edward’s reputation for his own gain, Roy had
smiled. He’d made his voice as kind and genuine as could possibly be faked and asked if
there was anything he could do to help.

In that moment, Edward’s experience showed how much older he was than his age. Edward’s
eyes lost their star-struck quality, instead turning cold and disenchanted. It took Roy a few
more tries to realize the problem wasn’t that his charm had been off or that Edward preferred
a different type of friend. Edward just couldn’t be tricked.

He could see the message behind Roy’s words and the intention behind the actions. It wasn’t
always clear to Edward what Roy actually wanted, but he got the gist of it. He knew when he
was being played.

It was then that Roy became interested.

Months later, Maes was willing to categorize that interest as romantic. Months after that, Roy
was willing to agree with him.

And now, it was finally time to act on that interest. Edward was eighteen and more than
desirable. He didn’t have the strongest Core in the world, no, but he was strong. He was
handsome, willful, brilliant, talented, and frankly enchanting. Edward had more than his fair
share of people pursuing him. The second he left town again, single and oblivious to
romantic advances, Roy wouldn’t be able to shield him.

Here, no one would touch Edward. Roy had made his interest clear. He paid special attention
to the young man so that others would know he fell under Roy’s protection. He did all of this,
of course, without Fullmetal’s knowledge. Most people adhered to the warning.

Some people, like Namae, approached him anyway. Right in the middle of class. Open and
obvious. Fortunately, Edward had no sense of decorum when he did eventually notice
people’s attention, and Roy had gotten to witness his competition’s brutal rejection firsthand.

Now if only he could figure out how to avoid that same strand of merciless rejection himself.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Roy took off his jacket as he exited the car. The journal was safely tucked inside. He folded it
again as an extra precaution and left it on his seat. Roy was only steps behind Edward and
Maes as they entered the house, and they were greeted by the sound of small feet running
across hardwood floors and a singular word being chanted like a mantra.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

Elicia ran into the room as fast as her little legs could carry her, thin arms wrapping around
her father’s neck. Maes hugged her around the waist and spun her in circles while
complimenting every possible part of her. As soon as he set her on her feet, she turned her
attention elsewhere.

“Good evening, Uncle Roy.” She moved forward, wrapping her arms around his waist in a
quick hug before diverting her attention again and, in a much higher voice, “Ed!”

Elicia ran just as quickly to Edward as she had to Maes, Roy was sure. Edward’s irritated
demeanor melted into a kind smile and soft eyes as he crouched to receive her hug.

“Hey, El. How’ve you been?”

Elicia grinned and pulled back. “You haven’t visited in forever. Did you go on another trip?”
Edward opened his mouth. Elicia spoke faster. “You didn’t, right? ‘Cause Momma cleans the
house all day when you leave on trips, and she hasn’t done that since your last visit. So
where’d you go?”

This time, she waited for an answer. Roy raised both brows, always impressed when Maes’s
intelligence showed through in Elicia.

Edward laughed. “No, I didn’t go on a trip. I just lost track of time.”

“You do that a lot, huh?” She looked at Ed like he was silly, then her five-year-old attention
span took over. “Your hair’s so long! Is mine gonna be this pretty when I get older?” She
tugged on his braid, running her fingers through the loose hairs at the end and his bangs.

Fullmetal chuckled, picking her up as he stood, and placed her on his hip. “Even prettier.
Though I think you’re probably just about there already. In fact, I’m getting a little jealous.”
He ruffled her hair with a teasing smile. Apparently, when children were concerned, it didn’t
matter who was around.

Maes caught Roy’s eye and lifted the grocery bags. He disappeared into the kitchen. Roy
watched Edward interact with Elicia for another few seconds before following. As much as
he loved seeing Edward relax, and he really did enjoy it, this wasn’t his place.
Not yet.

“Oh, Roy. I’m glad you could make it. Is Elicia . . .” Gracia trailed off, her ever-pleasant
smile firmly in place.

“With Fullmetal.” Roy paused. “He’s good with kids.”

Gracia took the meat out of its packaging as she responded, her voice as sweet as physically
possible while remaining genuine. “Oh, yes. Elicia’s over the moon for him. She chatters on
for days after he’s visited. He has this—this way with her. It’s almost like they’re actual
siblings.”

Siblings. That made sense. Alphonse had been around her age when they’d lost their mother.
Around their age when they had risked their lives—lost parts of Edward’s body—trying to
bring her back. Edward had a protective nature without linking the person he was protecting
to his brother.

It might not have been that he was particularly good with children, but particularly good with
family.

“Maybe they’ll fall in love when she gets old enough.” Maes grinned too widely. “I mean,
he’s a little old for her now, but when she’s an adult? Ed would make a perfect son-in-law.”

Roy scoffed good-naturedly while Gracia laughed. Like hell Roy would wait for his
competition to grow up.

“I’m gonna marry Ed?” Elicia caught the attention of the room with wide eyes and a wonder-
filled tone. Apparently, whatever the actual answer was didn’t matter as she turned excitedly
to Fullmetal. “We’re gonna get married!”

Edward gave a nervous laugh while Maes hurried over to snatch his darling daughter off the
ground. “Now, now, sweetie. You can’t marry Ed just yet. Right now, you have to stay with
Mommy and Daddy. Boys are a no-no.”

Maes’s words were rushed. Elicia pouted. “But Daddy, I am staying with you. Ed would
move here.”

She ended the sentence with a reassuring smile that Roy was sure she learned from her
mother. Maes practically overloaded on love. Edward’s nervous laugh stuttered through the
air again.

Roy smirked. “Well, I suppose you’re all set then. Congratulations on your new husband.”

Roy’s encouragement earned him a laugh, a glare, a whine, and a thank you. One thing was
for sure: Elicia was absolutely thrilled with having Roy’s Intended as her own. She wriggled
out of her father’s arms and made her way back to Edward, happily gripping his cloak.

Fullmetal sighed and placed his hand on the five-year-old’s hair. “How’s dinner coming
along?”
Gracia smiled at the change in topic while Maes curled into a ball on the floor, muttering
something about his perfect daughter being stolen away by alchemists.

“It’ll be finished in just a bit. Would you mind setting the table?” She tossed a smile over her
shoulder, still stirring whatever was on the stove.

Edward nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

His hand left Elicia’s hair so he could retrieve the necessary dinner implements. He handed
the cups to his new fiancée before heading to the dining room. Roy, Gracia, and Maes waited
in amiable silence. The muffled sound of Elicia’s chatter and Edward’s commentary floated
in from the other room.

It was nice. In this little house, at least for the night, there were no feuds or wars to worry
about. No political schemes to defend against. This, not his midnight adventures with various
men and women, was how he preferred to unwind.

“Boys, would you mind grabbing something on your way?”

Gracia picked up a bowl of broccoli, Maes went for the casserole, and Roy grabbed the salad
bowl and pitcher of tea. The table was set, with Fullmetal already in his chair and Elicia in
the one next to him. She had pulled it as close to her future husband as she could get.

“. . . but it turns out that the priest was actually one of the bad guys, which shows you can’t
trust someone just because of their position.”

“Except State Alchemists.”

“No, not even State Alchemists. There are bad people out there, El, and you can only judge
whether or not they’re bad or good by what you see and hear and feel, not what they wear.”

Elicia stared at Edward with stars in her eyes. Roy could practically see the cogs in her mind
turning as she took in the new information. She scrunched her brows. “What about Uncle
Roy? Daddy says you two fight a lot. He’s still good, right?”

Edward grimaced. He clearly didn’t like where the conversation had gone but, with an almost
pained look at Roy, spoke again. “Musta—Uncle Roy and I do fight a lot, but that’s just
because some people just don’t mix very well. It doesn’t matter whether he likes me or not
though because he loves you very, very much. If you’re ever in trouble, you run to him as fast
as your legs can take you, and he’ll keep you safe, alright?”

Edward’s voice was so serious, filled with so much conviction, that Roy couldn’t calculate
the right reaction to the words if he tried. Whatever their differences were, Edward held some
sort of respect for (enough respect to entrust his little sister’s life to) Roy. It made something
warm in Roy’s chest, where all he wanted to do was reach across the table and pull Edward to
him. Just to feel the blonde in his arms.

“Okay.” Elicia nodded. Despite her youth, she looked like she understood not only what he
said, but the gravity of it. There’s that patented Hughes intelligence.
Edward grinned. “Great. Now let’s dig in. I’m starved.”

Roy didn’t miss how Edward avoided looking at him as they ate. Roy didn’t comment, either.
It was near the end of dinner, in the middle of Elicia talking about a sleepover, when she
paused and turned to Edward again.

“Are we gonna bond, too? Mary Lou says that alchemists bond with the people they love, not
just get married.”

She had wide, curious eyes. Edward opened his mouth but made no sound, and Roy decided
to be the good guy and save him.

Just this once.

“We have to find out if you have a Core first.”

Elicia didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve got a Core. I’m going to be an alchemist, just like Ed.”

Roy smiled. “It still depends on what type of Core you have. Some of them don’t bond well
together.”

Pretty green eyes blinked at Roy’s explanation. “Is that why you aren’t bonded yet, Uncle
Roy? ‘Cause your Core is picky?”

Gracia laughed merrily, and this time it was Roy who got saved. “I think it’s just about time
we got ready for bed. Leave the boys to talk for a bit.”

Elicia pouted at her mother’s words, but she didn’t argue. Instead, like the little angel Maes
always claimed her to be, she hugged them and bid them goodnight. The two women
collected their dinnerware and exited to the kitchen. The room fell into a companionable
silence as they finished eating. Surprisingly, it was Edward who broke the silence first.

Even more surprisingly, he broke it by speaking to Roy.

“What’s it like?”

Roy raised his eyes to see Edward looking at him. He cocked a brow. Edward didn’t clarify.

Roy was about to ask what he meant when the blonde finally murmured, “Being able to bond
with whoever you want.”

Maes stilled, watching them both closely. This was clearly an issue Maes was already aware
of. Edward was . . . insecure?

“Not much different than you, I’d wager.” Roy swirled the remaining wine in his glass. “My
Core makes it easier for me to bond, but if it’s someone you should actually bond with,
they’re not going to turn you down just because the process is a little harder. You can bond
with whoever you want, Fullmetal. You just have to be willing to go for it.”
Edward’s lips stretched in a bitter grin that Roy didn’t understand at all while Maes eyed
Edward with a painful amount of sympathy. It all made Roy want to step further into
Edward’s business than he was allowed.

In class, Edward had said he didn’t plan on bonding, but his emotions didn’t match his claim.
Fullmetal wanted to bond. There was just something preventing it. Something Maes knew
about.

Maes also knew about Roy’s intent to bond with Edward though, and he had never mentioned
this problem before. That meant both that Maes had only recently come across the
information and that it was something he found too delicate to share.

“Thanks, Mustang. I’ve got the dishes.”

Fullmetal gathered the rest of the dishes, leaving the drinks behind, and made his way into
the kitchen. Roy turned to his best friend.

“Maes.” What’s going on?

“Yes, Roy?” I can’t say.

“How’s work?” Does anyone else know?

“I’ve got a lead, but it looks like a dead end.” Yes, but not many.

Not many in Maes-speak meant one or two, at most. That meant Alphonse and possibly their
blonde mechanic friend, Winry. If Roy wanted to know, he was going to have to find out on
his own.

Roy downed the last of his wine.

Maes changed the subject. “Who are you planning on taking to the ball? I’m taking my
beautiful wife and gorgeous daughter, of course, but you’ve got to be a little more careful
about it. The Führer’s going to be there, and all eyes are going to be on you two. For all the
people gunning for his job, you’re looking like the hardest hitting competition.”

It was good news, but it also meant Roy was going to be targeted more harshly. This time by
the Führer himself.

“Maybe Cora. She would dazzle the masses.”

“Maybe. But only the masses. The higher-ups would see right through her.”

She was charming, not smart. Roy went through his mental black book. “I could always go
alone. Show my dedication to work.”

Everyone loved a hard worker. Maes hummed again, leaning back in his chair and looking up
at the ceiling. “You could do that, but what about . . .”
Maes stopped talking as Gracia leaned into the room with a soft, “Shhh.” She had a smile
only mothers could wear, and she was motioning for them to look into the living room. Roy
exchanged a glance with Maes before they both stood and did as she suggested.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the living room, with the exception of the blonde
sleeping soundly on the couch. He was different from when Roy had seen him in the
infirmary.

Fullmetal looked far more relaxed, more natural, than before. His head was propped
awkwardly on the couch arm, braid hanging over his shoulder. His body was still half-seated,
letting Roy know he hadn’t intended to fall asleep. Roy wondered how long it’d been since
Fullmetal had slept for the sake of it rather than passing out from exhaustion.

“Looks like it’s time you two headed home.”

Maes whispered the words in Roy’s ear, and Roy gave a ghost of a nod. He moved to shake
Edward awake, much like he had that morning, but stopped short. Fullmetal was an
extremely heavy sleeper with mild insomnia. If Roy woke him here, there was a good chance
he’d be up the rest of the night.

Thinking once more on how exhausted Edward had been earlier that day, Roy made a
decision and changed his movements to hook his arms under Edward’s knees and upper back.
He was careful not to jostle Edward as he started to pick him up, but it turned out not to be a
problem as Edward immediately curled into him.

With Edward in his arms, in the safety of Maes’s home, Roy took the time to appreciate just
how much heavier Edward was than he looked.

Roy understood that the automail was bound to be at least twenty-five kilos, but Edward
himself was nothing but a bundle of muscle. Instead of the seventy or so kilos Roy expected,
he got more around ninety-five or a hundred.

If he was being honest, he really liked that surprise. Fullmetal was sturdy. He was well-built
and could handle the roughness that came along with a life beside of Roy. Edward twisted his
fingers into Roy’s white shirt, his nose pressed into the crook of Roy’s neck, and something
inside of Roy sparked at the contact.

Roy closed his eyes to compose himself.

They had a connection. Roy wasn’t sure what it was, but no one else (and he had plenty of
partners to compare) made him feel the way Edward did. No one else caused desire to burn
through his blood just by touching him. No one else ignited his interest or called him out on
his games.

No others were so brutally honest, so brash, and cared so little about the opinions of others
that Roy knew he wasn’t being charmed for his position.

Fullmetal was the first person Roy had even considered bonding with, and every day they
spent together, the more sure he became. They weren’t incredible friends, but that was
because Edward had built a blockade around himself, not for lack of compatibility. Roy just
had to break down those walls.

The rewards were bound to be worth the efforts.

Maes grinned but didn’t say anything before disappearing back into the kitchen and
reappearing with Roy’s uniform jacket folded over his forearm.

“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious as usual.” Roy doubted that speaking in a normal tone
of voice would wake Edward, but he preferred to be cautious.

Gracia returned his smile, walked across the room, and opened the door. “You know you’re
always welcome in our home, Roy. The same goes for Edward.”

Roy nodded before walking outside, Maes close behind. The bespectacled man reached into
Roy’s jacket pocket to fetch the keys and unlocked the door for him before opening that as
well.

Roy carefully situated Edward in passenger’s the seat before buckling him in. The blonde
leaned more toward the door, more toward Roy. He closed the door gently, and Maes handed
him his jacket. Before Roy could join Edward in the car, his best friend laid a hand on his
shoulder.

“Think carefully on your partner for the ball, okay?” Maes held Roy’s stare for a few serious
seconds. Then he turned, put his hand up in a lazy goodbye, and disappeared into his home.

Roy got the message loud and clear. He slid into his seat, noted the way Edward’s body
shifted toward him again, and started the car.

Edward had done that the night before as well: shifted closer after falling asleep. The Colonel
had chosen not to comment on the staring, and he had been right to do so as Edward had
fallen asleep like that. It’d been an equally correct choice to leave Edward there once he
finished, thereby forcing the younger man to ride to school with him.

They pulled smoothly into the driveway, and, as Roy lifted Edward back out of the vehicle,
he wondered how the Fullmetal Alchemist had survived this long.

Unless he felt the same spark that Roy did.

That would explain why he was so defensive around the Colonel. He felt the attraction
banging at his walls and was afraid to lose his bearings to it. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t wake
up to a stranger literally picking him up. His Core was just putting off the same feeling of
trust as Roy’s. He felt safe with Roy.

Except when he was awake, but that was another matter entirely.

Roy tucked the theory away for further examination as he stepped into the mess of what used
to be his library. Once he finished tiptoeing across the room, he placed Fullmetal on the bed,
under the covers.
The thought of removing Edward’s combat boots crossed his mind, but there were two issues.
One, there was a good chance not even Fullmetal would sleep through it. Two, if Roy was
going to undress the prodigy, he wouldn’t stop with shoes.

With a last look at his sleeping housemate, Roy left the room. He went back to his car,
collected his jacket and coat, and returned the journal to its rightful spot on the table.

It would take a lot of maneuvering and manipulation to get Edward to attend the ball with
him, but he already had a few ideas on how to make it happen. Checking to see that it was
still somewhat early—only ten thirty—Roy picked up the phone in his room and dialed the
number most likely to get him what he wanted.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed woke up slowly and comfortably.

He hadn’t dreamt any of his usual nightmares. He wasn’t torn between returning to the world
of sleep because his body needed anything it could get and waking up to escape from his
past. Instead, he felt hazy. There was a warmth in his chest he wasn’t used to. Ed rolled over
and fisted his hands in the blanket.

Maes and Gracia were so nice. While it was odd for him to crash on the couch and sleep
through Elicia waking up, he’d been pretty damn tired. Also, pancakes were usually a Sunday
morning treat, not Saturday. Ed reached out, feeling the rest of the bed for his—

Bed?

His eyes snapped open to see the library, and Ed ran through all the different ways he
could’ve gotten there. None were probable.

He grabbed a pair of boxers, black shorts, and a black tank before making his way to
Mustang’s room. He didn’t bother knocking, as the man was obviously downstairs making
pancakes, and walked straight to the bathroom.

Ed stripped and undid his braid, stepping under the hot water with a pleasant sigh. He washed
his hair and body, freely using Mustang’s overly expensive soaps, before getting out and
drying himself off. He dressed, bundling the dirty clothes under his arm to drop off in his
room on the way down.

When Ed got to the kitchen, he picked up a pancake from the plate next to the stove and sat
down in front of his books. It was warm in his hand and flavorful in his mouth. Soft and
perfect and blueberry. Ed’s favorite.

Ed finished two pancakes before asking, “Mind if I use your phone? I need to call Maes and
thank him for bringing me back here.”
Ed had been living there for more than a week, yes, but he was still a guest. Mustang glanced
away from the stove, a bored, half-curious look on his face. “What makes you think it was
Maes?”

His tone was interested and knowing, giving Ed the knowledge that what he had labeled as
the least-likely scenario was what had occurred.

The warmth in Ed’s chest shot to his face. He couldn’t stop staring. Ed had slept in the bed
that he borrowed from Mustang because he was in Mustang’s house because Mustang had
fucking carried him to said bed. From Maes’s house, nonetheless. Not just up the fucking
stairs, across the fucking city. The use of a car didn’t matter.

Ed swallowed thickly, opening his mouth twice before finally asking, “Why? Maes would’ve
let me crash on his couch. Or you could’ve woken me up.” There was a large, embarrassed
part of Ed that never wanted to speak to Mustang again, but an even larger part than that
wanted answers.

“You don’t sleep much. I figured if I woke you up, you’d stay that way. It’s not healthy.”

He flipped a pancake without a spatula. Ed frowned. “You sound like Al. My sleeping habits
are fine.”

“I’m not trying to lecture you, Fullmetal. I’m just explaining why I chose not to wake you.”

Irritation bubbled in Ed’s chest. He hated that Mustang’s patronizing tone wasn’t uncalled for.
He bit out a gruff, “Thanks. I guess.”

“Oh, it wasn’t for free.” Mustang carried the plate of pancakes to the table. “In return, I’d like
you to help me with my Advanced Construction paper.”

“Oh. Sure.” Odd as it sounded, the price helped Ed relax. He was used to exchanging favors
and nothing being for free, especially around Mustang. All the recent, seemingly random acts
of kindness had been throwing him off. “What do you need help with?”

Mustang didn’t bother to hide his pleased smile at the easy acceptance. “Honestly? All of it.
I’ve done the research, and we both know I can string words together with the best of them
—”

Ed interrupted Mustang’s ego-stroking with a dull, “Silver-tongued bastard,” that his

commanding officer ignored entirely.

“—but the overall act of constructing a transmutation circle escapes me.”

Mustang sounded bored, as though he didn’t really care about the concepts and just wanted a
good grade, but Ed recognized the thirst for knowledge in his eyes. He didn’t want words to
reiterate on paper. He wanted understanding.

“What about your gloves?” Ed nodded towards Mustang’s ever-gloved hands.

He’d only ever seen beneath the gloves twice, though that probably had a lot to do with the
transmutation circle carved into Mustang’s skin. Ed had more than enough experience with
scars to know that some of them just weren’t meant for the public.

Mustang glanced down at his gloves as Ed picked up a third pancake, eating it like a cookie.

“What about them?”

“They’re not like other fire-focused circles. You made them, or at least modified them to your
benefit. It’s hard to tell most of the time, but fire-centered arrays aren’t usually so combat or
detail oriented.”

Ed rambled off his reasoning without really thinking about it. The Colonel wasn’t being too
irritating at the moment, and it was rare that the man admitted to not being able to do
something, no matter how he played it off.

Mustang waved a dismissive hand. “They’re different. You can’t just construct a circle at
random. You need a purpose.”

Ed shrugged. “Nah. You’ve got tunnel vision is all. Don’t think about creating an actual
transmutation circle, just think about the process. What are the three essential parts of any
array?”

Ed stared at dark eyes expectantly and was pleased when Mustang actually took the time to
think about his answer. “The size of the outermost circle, the runes, and the concentration.”
Mustang sounded just as confident as he would’ve in class.

Ed rolled his eyes. “First off, drop the act. I know you’ve got a god-complex to rival an actual
god, but if you don’t know the answer, it doesn’t help anything to pretend you do.”

Ed picked up one of the books he had been referencing in his latest theory, flipped to a page
with multiple circles, and pushed it across the table to rest beside Mustang’s plate. The older
man took his time dropping their staring contest before pushing his now-empty plate away
and moving the book to a better position.

Ed continued, “You’re right about the runes, but the other two are off. What are the
commonalities in all of those circles?”

Ed ate another pancake while Mustang looked over the arrays. For all of the bastard’s faults,
he was a fantastic cook.

“I’m not seeing any other important commonalities aside from the ones I named, Fullmetal.”
Mustang didn’t look up when he spoke, but his tone wasn’t as blindly confident as his
previous response.

Ed stuffed the last of his food in his mouth before scooting his chair back and moving to
stand behind Mustang, much like he would have his brother. He swallowed as he leaned over
the other soldier’s shoulder. He was careful not to touch, lest his Core act up again, but stayed
close enough to reach the book. He positioned his arm parallel to Mustang’s with only a few
centimeters of space separating metal from cloth.

Ed was naturally left-handed, yes, but it was safer to use automail when playing with fire.

“Look at the lines. The number of lines usually depicts how complicated or fixated on a
certain subject the circle will be.” He slid his finger across the page to point to the runes. The
cloth of Mustang’s uniform wrinkled as Ed’s forearm brushed against it. “Next, like you said,
are the runes. These help to define the purpose of the circle and the number of runes almost
always corresponds with the number of lines.”

Ed moved his hand a final time, to the bottom of the page so that he could reach one of the
better-drawn circles. That small adjustment shifted Ed the few centimeters needed to smell
the conditioner in Mustang’s hair. The blonde hesitated a moment as he realized that he had
used the Colonel’s shower products and smelled the same, then continued explaining. “Lastly,
the words written within the circle, usually in Latin, tell how flexible the alchemy activated
will be.”

Mustang tensed a little, and Ed waited to see what the older man would say. Dark, intelligent
eyes turned to face Edward, though the rest of him stayed perfectly still. The cue to keep
going was loud and clear.

Ed pursed his lips as he wondered how he could explain what, exactly, the words did. Mind
no longer focused on anything outside of the academic realm, Ed traced the words inside the
bottommost array.

“This one is for creating a large-scale water purifier. It’s pretty specific, down to how large
the body of water can be.” Ed’s hand moved to Mustang’s, which was sitting right beside of
his own, and adjusted it so that the transmutation circle on the back of his glove was
showing. “Your circle is designed without words because you need to be able to control how
much fire you create.”

Ed’s automail pointer finger went around the circle once for emphasis.

“It’s always varying, so you can’t afford to complicate the circle, even if that might make it
more powerful. Usually this would be a hindrance, as most people don’t have either the
power or the control to get positive results with such little guidance.”

Ed paused, half forgetting that Mustang was there. He traced the circle again as he studied it
more intensely. “It might be easier for you because of your Core affiliation, but this takes
more focus than raw power. I wouldn’t be surprised if it got harder to control after you came
into your inheritance instead of easier.”

Ed had more to say on the subject, but his ramblings ended as quickly as his mind could
catch up to his mouth. There was no way to tell which of them tensed more, but Ed was
willing to bet it was a close match.

He had the urge to move away and change the topic, act as though nothing out of the ordinary
had happened, but that would be tactless. Trying to back away now would only arm Mustang
with the knowledge that Ed was hiding more than knowledge of his inheritance.

Ed swallowed his apprehension and waited for Mustang to react. For a minute, he thought
Mustang was going to give him the grace of not looking him in the eyes. They both knew he
was a terrible liar. Then the Colonel turned his entire upper body to face Ed. Their shoulders
touched, and Mustang’s face was a few centimeters away, at most.

Ed’s Core sparked too-pleasantly at the contact.

“What makes you think I’ve already come into my inheritance?” Mustang’s tone was light.
His eyes were dangerous.

Ed tried not to panic. If he told the truth, he was done for. If he lied, Mustang would know
and call him out on it, leading to suspicion and tact which, in turn, would lead to the truth.
Which left him with a half-truth.

“I was in the room when you went through it.” Ed paused, saw that Mustang wasn’t budging,
and continued, “Maes found me after class ended and we talked for a while. I felt . . . off, and
he convinced me to go to the infirmary. He knew I wouldn’t tell, and I haven’t. Your secret is
safe.”

Mustang moved even closer, if possible, never breaking eye contact as he stared into Ed’s
fucking soul. Ed narrowed his eyes, daring Mustang to question his story. The staring contest
lasted a full minute before Mustang stood, easily moving Ed out of his way before going to
the fridge and pouring himself a small glass of milk.

“I believe you.” Mustang turned around and leaned against the fridge, glass held idly in his
hand.

Ed blinked, not entirely sure he trusted it to be that simple. “You do?”

“You have no reason to lie to me.”

Mustang's assurance was so smooth that Ed had to physically stop himself from cringing.
“Right. Yeah. That’s right. I don’t.”

Mustang drained his glass before walking around Ed to pick up his plate and put them both in
the sink. “Then we don’t have a problem. I trust you to keep this matter discrete.” Mustang
checked his watch with an air of importance about him before meeting Ed’s eyes again. “It’s
about time I leave for work. We can continue this”—Mustang’s gloved hand, which Ed had
just been handling as he pleased, motioned lazily to the books—“when I get back.”

Then, as though Ed hadn’t just divulged information he really shouldn’t know, Mustang
walked away. The Colonel paused only to grab his sleek black petty coat and keys.

Ed knew he should be thankful that he’d come out of that with the Colonel none-the-wiser,
but his instincts said it was far from over.

Nothing was that easy when it came to Roy Mustang.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

As soon as Roy reached his office and the door closed safely behind him, he called his best
friend. Edward and Maes’s stories for the infirmary visit didn’t match up, and neither were
the forgetful type. That meant one of them, or more likely both of them, were lying.

Maes had pointed out that he didn’t want to lie to Roy, to which Roy had immediately
assumed he shouldn’t ask about his inheritance. It seemed as though that statement had been
meant for information on Fullmetal as well. Maes had warned him knowing what conclusion
Roy would jump to, but it was still a warning.

Roy wasn’t angry about the lies. No, those were expected in his line of work. All he wanted
was to show Maes what cards were on the table and to see if Maes was willing to share more.
Or, more realistically, Roy wanted to hint at what cards might be on the table and see if
anything would slip. It was a long-shot with Maes, but Roy hadn’t gotten this far by playing
it safe.

“Intelligence department. Hughes speaking.”

Roy leaned back in his chair as he heard the usual greeting, well-prepared to play the game
with his best friend. “Maes.”

“Roy! Are you calling because you realized that you forgot to take home the newest pictures
of my perfect little angel last night?” Roy waited patiently as Maes chattered away, knowing
the other man was moving to a more secluded location. “I mean, I know you had your hands
full—no pun intended—so I can understand how you could forget, but I can’t imagine the
distress you must be in not being able to look at her smiling face every day.”

Roy glanced at his bottom-right desk drawer, knowing an updated picture of the Hughes
family was currently lying inside without having to look.

“Don’t worry, I always carry a few extra pictures in my wallet. I can give you the one where
she’s—no, that’s one of my favorites. How about the one where—ah, but she’s too cute in
that to part with it. Oh, I know. You can take—”

Positive that Maes had plenty of time to isolate himself, Roy interrupted. “You lied about
why Fullmetal was in the infirmary.”

The other line went silent. Maes was nowhere near green enough to panic and spill the whole
truth, but he would test the waters. They both wanted to know what the other knew, and that
required giving a little.

“What did he tell you?”

Cautious, not denying or apologetic. Maes knew when he was caught, and they both knew
that lying was a part of the trade sometimes. It was unfortunate when the trade had to be
between them, but understandable.

“He wasn’t sick when he agreed to go with you.”

Roy’s tone alluded to their being more, but he stopped there. Fullmetal had said that he’d felt
off, but not sick, and Roy was willing to bet that was Edward’s way of lying without actually
lying.

“We both know he won’t tell anyone.”

An excuse, not a reason. Edward knowing about his inheritance wasn’t what they were
hiding.

Roy knew he was too powerful for his inheritance to have gone as easily as it seemed. And
Maes wouldn’t have let anyone in on it unless he absolutely had to, meaning Maes hadn’t just
run into Edward, he’d sought the man out.

“I wasn’t going to make it, was I?”

“No.”

The word was soft and regretful, as though Maes didn’t like admitting Roy dying had ever
been a possibility.

Roy didn’t allow himself to focus on his near-death. It was news, but not a purposefully
hidden secret. A red herring. The question, then, was how could Fullmetal have helped with
that? Had he developed a new way to force energy to stray from the Core holder? With his
alchemic genius, Roy wouldn’t doubt it, but that wasn’t something to hide. It wasn’t
something Maes would lie to him for.

“Fullmetal saved me.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a shot in the dark. Somehow or another,
Edward was the reason he’d survived.

“Ed didn’t tell you anything, did he?” A rhetorical question if Roy had ever heard one. The
Colonel twirled a pen in his hands and gazed at the paperwork he was half-considering doing.

“Not intentionally. He let on that he knew I had already gone through my inheritance, and
when I questioned him on it, your stories for how he got to the infirmary didn’t line up.”

Roy had enough information to build off of. He neither needed nor wanted Maes to break
Edward’s trust and tell the truth.

No, Roy would much rather get his due from the source of it all. Edward was his Intended,
making his secrets Roy’s as well. It would only be fair for Roy to find out what, exactly,
those secrets were the hard way.

“Look, Roy, I know you’re curious, but . . . maybe you should let this one go. He’ll tell you if
he’s ready.”
If. Not when. Roy watched the pen spin around his fingers twice more before responding.
“Maybe he’ll tell me at the ball.”

It was an altogether change in topic, not an agreement. Maes went with it. “He agreed to go
with you?”

Maes sounded pleasantly surprised. Roy allowed his lips to quirk in a genuinely amused
smile. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’ll have to share him for at least one dance. My beautiful Elicia is bound to steal
your spotlight and, if she has her way, your date. Just you wait. She’s going to be the belle of
the ball in her beautiful—”

“Goodbye, Maes.”

Roy hung up without waiting for a response. Edward was probably still suspicious over how
easily Roy had bought his lies, but Roy wouldn’t be bringing the issue up again anytime
soon, so it didn’t particularly matter.

It may not seem like much, but he had made progress with Edward. Progress he wasn’t
willing to lose. Fullmetal would be suspicious, but he wouldn’t lash out unless Roy gave
reason.

Roy was a calculated risk-taker. He wouldn’t let Fullmetal rebuild the wall he’d worked so
hard to break down. And he had closed some of the distance between them, no matter what
Edward would argue. Before this living together ordeal, Edward wouldn’t have stood next to
Roy, let alone leaned over Roy’s shoulder long enough to explain alchemy.

The way Edward’s automail had brushed against Roy’s arm. The way Edward had traced the
array on his glove with such an intense look in his eyes. The way he had complimented Roy’s
control. It was almost like Edward was trying to show him what they could have if he played
his cards right.

When Edward forgot about his need to guard himself against everyone and everything, Roy
could almost taste their future together. It was rare, of course, only minutes at a time, but
those minutes were enough.

He didn’t love Fullmetal, but the potential was there.

Gunfire sounded from outside his office, letting Roy know Hawkeye was encouraging
someone to get back to work. He glanced at the papers piling up on his desk. There was a
new issue, and thereby a new platform for a solution, brewing in Central’s underbelly.

Rumors of chimeras had been sweeping through Central City. Roy needed to figure out both
the quickest way to test the authenticity of the rumors and the best way to deal with the
chimeras should they be real. The publicity he would receive from eliminating the threat
would provide a much-needed boost to his political platform, especially if he could do it
before the ball.
It was less necessary for the importance of protecting the people, since no attacks had been
reported yet, as it was for the pretense of protecting the people. Maes hadn’t been joking
when he’d said all eyes would be on Roy and Bradley. Elections were coming up in two short
years, and Roy was a strong candidate to knock the king off of his throne. It would take all of
the political prowess he had when considering his age and rank, but the position of Führer
was determined by vote, and people were Roy’s forte.

The annual military ball was going to be nothing short of a performance. He had to woo
everyone in that room. From reporters to soldiers to their dates to the catering crew, he
needed every single person to trip over themselves trying to get his attention.

Well, almost every person.

Edward would probably still be fuming at the fact that he’d been manipulated into going in
the first place, so Roy couldn’t expect much from him. Politically speaking, it would
probably be better for Roy if Fullmetal didn’t go. A popular figurehead badmouthing him in
front of everyone he needed to impress was hardly desirable.

At the same time, Roy wanted Edward to see him in his element. He wanted Edward to know
that even though the blonde could see through his silver-tongue, it wasn’t an average trait. He
wanted Edward to be impressed.

It wasn’t likely that Fullmetal would ever admit to it aloud, but Roy didn’t need the blonde to
speak to know what the younger man’s opinion on him was. He wasn’t new to the game. Not
the game of reading people. Not the game of courting. Not the game of Edward Elric.

Besides, Fullmetal didn’t like him, but he wouldn’t purposefully ruin Roy’s career. He might
even be able to help.

Roy leaned back as he mulled over the possibility of Edward as a purposeful ally. Fullmetal
had been sent on numerous missions involving chimeras. He probably knew more about
tracking them down than even the intelligence department.

Use every resource, right?

He would have to ask tonight, after Edward finished explaining creating transmutation
circles. Come tomorrow, the blonde wouldn’t be doing him any favors. Not for a while
anyhow.

Luckily, Roy had two lists of priorities (social and business), and Edward was only at the top
of one. Equally luckily, the business list was currently more of a priority than the social list.
Roy didn’t really need to Edward to be on speaking terms with him until after he dealt with
the chimera threat and the ball ended.

Which brought him back to the question of who was going to accompany him. He’d
expressed to Maes that going alone may be the smartest option because it would make him
seem both focused on his work and eligible, but it had the double edge of people wondering
why he was alone. Plenty of reporters would be there to start rumors, and Roy didn’t need any
bad publicity.
So, he needed a date. A classy one. He crossed off everyone who’d slept with him before the
third date and everyone who had gotten into trouble since their last encounter. A charming
personality was necessary, so not someone Roy had gone after for the novelty of it. They
were all beautiful, eliminating that requirement entirely, but there were so many different
kinds of beauties that Roy needed to decide which would best suit his purposes.

For starters, did he want a man or a woman?

He had taken a man to the last two formal events, so it made sense to escort a woman next.
Whom though? Keira had an exotic air about her and would draw a pleasant amount of
attention. Rebecca was a southern belle to the very core and would charm the hell out of
everyone without even meaning to. Lina had a more modern beauty: always keeping up with
trends and making sure to impress anyone who laid eyes on her. Ariel—

Ariel. She was a classic, timeless beauty. There was nothing in particular that stood out as her
beautifying factor and no way to really categorize her beauty. She could pull off any of the
other looks without even trying. It helped that she liked to keep up with politics, as it
wouldn’t do to have an idiot at his side.

The company he kept reflected on how people viewed him, after all. Ariel was soft-spoken
and polite. She had a rare elegance about her and table etiquette to match Roy’s own. She was
perfect. Decision made, Roy picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number, waiting
only two rings before a melodic voice came through the line.

“Hello?”

“Ariel? This is Roy.”

“Roy? What a pleasant surprise. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. And as wonderful as it is to hear from you, I was actually thinking I would
like to see you again soon.” Roy tapped his pen on the signature line of the paper in front of
him without actually writing anything.

“The ball this Saturday?”

“You know me so well. How does six sound?”

“It sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”

Taking the words for the farewell they were, Roy bid her goodbye and hung up. Before he
could return his attention to the chimera reports, three sharp knocks sounded at his door and
Hawkeye let herself in.

It’d crossed his mind once or twice to take her to one of these events, but too many people
assumed they were fraternizing already. It would be counter-productive for both of them to
encourage those rumors.

Blue eyes swept over the paperwork which had only increased since he’d left the night
before, and Roy knew the chimera case would have to wait. First, he would have to placate
his childhood friend’s trigger finger. He was sure that she would never actually shoot him,
but he wasn’t looking to test that surety anytime soon.

Or ever, really.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed watched Mustang from across the table. They’d been walking through creating
transmutation circles for the last hour and a half, and Ed had long since set his book to the
side so that he could properly pay attention to the man across from him. He’d attempted to
multitask, but it just wasn’t his strong suit. With that, Mustang had more irritating ways to
keep his attention than the book did.

Like igniting the fucking air in front of Ed’s face.

The larger problem with that was that Mustang hadn’t spoken for a good ten minutes, and
Ed’s attention had long-since waned.

“Is there anything else, or can I get back to my research?” If Ed sounded irritated, it was
because he was irritated. He’d almost gotten his hair singed six damn times for assuming the
man was finished digging for information when he wasn’t. Mustang stopped writing to look
at Ed with that stupid fucking calculating look in his eyes.

“How do you track down a chimera?”

For half a minute after the question was posed, Ed did nothing but stare. Then he hunched his
shoulders and furrowed his brows. “Why? One’s on the loose and you want an extra man on
your firing squad?”

“Not exactly.” Mustang set his pen down.

“No.”

The word was sharp, making it Mustang’s turn to frown. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“You set your pen down.” When Mustang’s only response was a blank stare, Ed continued,
“Whenever you’re overly damn confident that things will go your way, you sit your pen
down. You used to tap it against whatever you were writing on, but you changed a couple of
months back and now you do that.”

Ed pointed roughly in the direction of Mustang’s pen before crossing his arms and squaring
his shoulders, prepared for whatever bullshit excuse the devil was going to use.

What he wasn’t prepared for was said devil’s lips to twitch upwards. Mustang schooled his
expression a split second later, but it didn’t hold as his lips curled into a partial smile once
more. The process repeated a final time before the Colonel gave in and laughed.
Ed’s first thought was that he had never seen Mustang laugh before. Not a real laugh,
anyhow. He’d heard plenty of the condescending half-scoff, half-laughs and polite, that’s-not-
really-funny-but-you’re-influential chuckles. Not a genuine laugh. Ed would never admit it
aloud, but Mustang had a nice laugh.

“You really are something, Fullmetal.” Mustang shook his head, openly amused. “I actually
noticed the habit a while back and tried to correct it in public so no one else would see, but it
looks like I only succeeded in forming a new one.”

Ed stayed silent, not used to his superior officer speaking so much in one sitting or sharing so
much in, well, ever.

Mustang continued, “There are rumors of chimeras being created here in Central. I need to
put an end to it, and you’re the most knowledgeable resource I’ve got.” Mustang met Ed’s
eyes, mirth and something unidentifiable lingering there. “I don’t want you to track them
down. I just want some advice on how I should.”

Ed stared, trying to find a lie or some sign of deceit but not seeing anything. After a lengthy
silence, Ed looked away, suddenly finding his notebook far more interesting. “Bring the files
home with you tomorrow. I’ll help you figure out how to start tracking, but you’re on your
own from there.” He didn’t really know why he was offering to help, but Ed had never been
one to overthink things. He was a man of action.

Mustang had been amicable lately, and Ed wasn’t one to hold a grudge. Well, he was, but
Mustang hadn’t actually done anything but be a generalized asshole. It was hard to keep
being rude to someone who was being nice-ish to him.

“You could always just tell me now, you know?” The teasing tone was back in the Colonel’s
voice.

Ed’s eyes shot back to Mustang as he mentally took back what he had thought about the man
being nice-ish. “Yeah, but you’re a bit of a slow learner, so I figured you’d need all the help
you can get.”

Ed was quick to jump back into their usual less-than-friendly banter, but his tone wasn’t quite
as biting. Mustang held his hands up in defeat, and Ed couldn’t tell if he was being mocked
or not.

“I’ll bring the files tomorrow.”

Mustang still had a ghost of that amused smile on his damnable lips. Ed scoffed, deciding on
his own that this conversation was over. He gathered his things and went to his room. There
was a half-second where he contemplating reading more, then he added the books to the stack
near the door.

Chimeras, huh?

Ed had been on a lot of wild goose chases for chimeras where nothing came of it. He had
killed just as many actual chimeras, he was sure.
Slowly, Ed looked down at his hands. They were gloved, white cloth matching perfectly and
connecting easily with bright red sleeves. After glancing at the door twice, Ed tugged his
gloves off.

His stomach turned slightly, but he didn’t allow himself to stop there. The cloak slid off next,
and his shirt followed soon after. He didn’t hesitate as he crouched to remove his shoes, their
formidable weight thumping on the floor before Ed finally let his pants and boxers drop.

He got into moods sometimes. Moods that not even Al had experienced, where Ed had to take
stock of everything he had done. First, he had to look down at himself and see the flesh and
metal counterparts. He had to see how different they were and know how they would
(should) have been had he not convinced Al to try and bring their mother back.

He had to live with the fact that it could’ve been so much worse had his reflexes been even
the smallest bit slower. Al could’ve died. Being a partially metal side-show attraction didn’t
even count as a price when considering his younger brother’s life was what he got to keep in
return. No, it was a reminder of what could’ve been and a motivator to keep what he loved
safe.

With Ed’s picky Core, being attractive would’ve been wasted on him anyhow.

Next, he had to handle what he’d done with those mismatched hands. He had personally
ended countless lives. He’d killed chimeras, yes, but they weren’t the only ones. He usually
killed the creators, too. So much blood had been spilled by his transmuted arm or the
wreckage his battles caused.

They weren’t good people, no, but murder was still murder.

He couldn’t stop at the blood that’d been literally splashed on his hands, either. How many
lives had ended because Ed just hadn’t been fast enough or strong enough or smart enough?
The one that stuck out the most—the one that always came to mind—was Nina.

Ed had been there, right there, and just let it happen. He’d been young and hopeful, ready to
redeem himself in the eyes of the world. Then reality brought him to his knees. Hard. Nina,
sweet, sweet Nina, died scared and alone in an ally after being betrayed by the one person she
had trusted most.

She had died because Ed had been too focused on himself and becoming a State Alchemist.

By this point, Ed was fairly sure it hurt so much because it was his first taste of what would
soon surround him on all sides. He’d been unprepared, and the blade had dug deep.

Ed had plenty of scars separate from his automail, of course, but they bothered him less.
They were proof of what he had done and what had been done to him. Sometimes, they were
what kept him grounded. He had to know this wasn’t just a nightmare he would wake up
from. He had to stand in the wreckage, acknowledge it was his fault, and move on. Any pain
he bore was deserved.

Most of the time, Ed could handle it.

 He lived in the moment with an awareness of the future, and the past could be learned from
but not focused on. He didn’t care what other people thought. He didn’t care if anyone saw
how his past had scarred him, but he wouldn’t let them see him like he was now. He wouldn’t
let them see that he couldn’t hold the weight of the world at all points. Ed hadn’t become the
man he was without making more than his fair share of enemies.

He stared down two startlingly different hands, one a golden tan and the other a sleek silver.
Ed took a deep breath. He had done a lot of things that he wasn’t proud of, but he couldn’t
linger on them. Not if he was ever going to be the man Al was proud to call Brother. The
scars, the metal limbs, the blood staining his very existence: he could live with them. He
would be fine.

Knuckles rapped against wood, jolting Ed out of his thoughts.

“Do you want anything in particular for dinner tomorrow?”

Mustang had been doing all of the cooking (unless one of them decided to eat out), but he
hadn’t made a habit of asking Ed for his opinion. The blonde scowled at the older man’s
timing, hoping that the Colonel wouldn’t randomly decide to barge in.

“Make whatever you want.”

Ed cringed as his irritation bled into his voice. Honestly, Mustang’s sudden niceness was
making him paranoid. The Colonel had been nothing but kind and accommodating as of late,
which meant he was overcompensating either for something he had already done coming to
light or for something he was about to do. Neither boded well for Ed.

“Alright. Just thought I’d ask.”

Mustang’s voice sounded like he really was only trying to be nice. Ed scoffed, crossing his
arms over his bare chest without thinking about it. “Save your manipulating for someone who
gives a shit, Mustang.”

A few seconds of silence, then: “Good night, Fullmetal.” Mustang’s voice was deeper than
the moments before. Huskier. There was also the damnable amusement, but Ed was used to
that.

“Night, Bastard.”

Ed heard footsteps retreating after the dismissal, and he took one last look at himself before
heading over to the bed. He supposed there really wasn’t any real reason to worry. If he could
handle Mustang, he could handle anything.

Chapter End Notes

I'm officially a published author! If you'd like to check my original works or sign up for
my newsletter, feel free to visit [Link]! Have a wonderful day!
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed was furious. No, furious was too tame a descriptor. He was beyond furious. He
was enraged. He stormed through Central Command, Al and Winry at his heels.

“Brother, I really don’t think we need to do this.”

“He’s right, Ed. Why don’t we just head back, and we’ll—”

“No. He’s not getting off the fucking hook this time. He’s gone too far.”

Before Winry could respond, Ed made the last turn and flung open the doors to Mustang’s
branch. Breda, Havoc, Fuery, and Falman all looked up, the alarm in their faces and postures
fading only slightly as they noted the purest form of anger tensing every muscle in Ed’s body.

Ed marched through the office area without pause, hardly noting that Al and Winry chose to
stay at the entrance and stare unsurely at Mustang’s men.

Ed’s hand rose, fingers already curled into a tight fist. He intended to knock, but that felt too
civil for the conversation he wanted to have. Instead of rapping on the door, Ed dropped his
arm back to his side, raised his automail leg, and kicked the wood as hard as he could. It gave
way with ease.

A bullet sped by Ed’s head. He didn’t flinch.

“Fullmetal, what are you—”

“You son of a fucking bitch. I don’t care if you make me move out of my place and
uproot my life for your sick fucking amusement, but you leave my family out of it!” He was
shouting, and he knew everyone was listening, but making a scene had never been a problem
for Ed. “What the fuck were you thinking bringing Al and Winry here? I’ve got enemies from
here to Ishval and you’re just placing them on a train and hoping? You of all people should
know what crazy motherfuckers are roaming around out there!”

Ed’s lips moved soundlessly for a few seconds, his anger and frustration and worry for what
could’ve been all crashing together for a moment of haziness.

“Damn it, Mustang, what if something had happened to them?”

His voice dropped to a whisper, wrath blending together with fear and worry. Ed wasn’t sure
what he was going to say next, but he didn’t have to worry about that as Al stepped in.

“Brother, please calm down.” Al made his way through the dead silent room to place a hand
on Ed’s shaking, flesh shoulder. “The Colonel didn’t make us come. He invited us.
Resembool’s academy is on break this week anyway, and we both wanted to see how you
were doing. Plus, Winry is really excited about this dance and—”

Ed spun, catching Al by surprise. He probably hadn’t expected his words to reach Ed so

easily.

“Did you say dance? As in the annual military ball?” Golden eyes widened, likely because Al
was unused to having Ed’s temper turned on him, and Ed moved his attention back to his
housemate. “Did you invite them here for the sake of your stupid fucking ball and your
goddamn reputation?”

Ed waited, but Mustang didn’t jump at his chance to explain. Ed practically snarled, taking a
fierce step forward only to have two hands grasp at his biceps to physically hold him back.

“Brother, please.”

Quite possibly the only thing in the world capable of saving Mustang from Ed’s rage stepped
in: Al’s pleading. Two pairs of golden eyes met, one set much harsher and more heavily
guarded than the other, before Ed turned to stare into obsidian eyes instead.

“Just fucking stay at Maes’s house tonight.” Then, without giving the bastard a chance to say
a word, Ed swung around and marched back out, nudging his brother in front of him and
slamming the door behind him. “Fucking bastard.”

The mutter was almost out of reflex, and Ed glanced around the room to see Mustang’s men
were still staring. He frowned, anger calming now that he had both said his peace and didn’t
have anything against anyone in the room. Seeing nothing else to do, Ed waved a lazy hand
in the air with a dull, “Sorry for the interruption,” and left the larger room as well. Al and
Winry followed without a word.

Ed had been more than surprised to get to Mustang’s house and see his brother and Winry in
the kitchen. At first, he’d been happy to see them. He loved them, and it’d been months since
they’d last met up. His happiness was quickly overridden by the fact that Mustang had hidden
a spare key for them.

Mustang had brought them there without Ed’s knowledge. That was why the older man had
been so nice as of late. He was making up for the fact that he was doing something Ed
definitely wouldn’t like. He was manipulating.

Just like Ed had said in the bastard’s office, Ed didn’t care if people went after him. He didn’t
care if Mustang turned his life upside down. His brother though—the Rockbell family—they
were off limits. If something, anything, happened to them, Ed wouldn’t be able to live with
himself.

His mind raced with the possibilities as they all walked back to Mustang’s place. It was only
after they reached their destination that Ed’s fury dropped out of him and the relief took hold.
He turned to face his only family and childhood friend, ready to give some sort of half-assed
apology for making a scene, when Winry cracked him over the head.
Ed glared as he rubbed the sore spot on his scalp. “The hell! What was that for?”

“For being a paranoid jerk. You never have time to visit anymore, and the one time we get a
chance to come down here, you fly off the handle.” Winry put her hands on her hips, berating
Ed as though they were children again. “I don’t expect you to be able to see past your pride to
apologize, so I’m not even going to try, but it’s really no wonder you get into trouble so often
with a temper like that.” Winry stuck her tongue out at Ed before waltzing past him and
starting to rifle through the kitchen. “I swear, Ed. It’s like you never left at all. I bet you
skipped lunch again for some stupid book, didn’t you?”

She sounded half-exasperated, half-amused, and Ed didn’t have time to defend himself before
his stomach growled. Al laughed at Ed’s expense while Winry hummed triumphantly, and Ed
couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

They were safe, and as long as Ed was around, they would stay that way. Gold met gold
again, and Al’s smile matched Ed’s own. The younger Elric looked around the room, taking
everything in.

Ed knew that Al had met Mustang once before this while Ed had been on the road. They’d
had dinner together at Maes’s place, and Al’s opinion of the man had skyrocketed. At most
points in time, Al liked to chalk up Ed’s dislike of the Colonel to their personalities mixing
like oil and water, but both Elrics knew that the disappointment of Mustang’s Core played its
own role in the relationship.

“Brother, didn’t you have some new theories to show me?”

Excitement fluttered to life in an instant, and he was quick to turn and race up the steps. His
brother’s much lighter steps echoed right behind him. When Ed opened the door to his room,
Al let out a low whistle. “This is amazing. And he gave you free reign?”

Ed nodded off-handedly. “Yeah. He pretty much leaves me to my own devices.” Ed stepped

over the books as he spoke. “I don’t know what the bastard wants, but he’s not doing a good
job of getting it.”

Al hummed, a habit he’d no doubt picked up from Winry. “Have you ever thought that maybe
he’s just being nice?”

Ed snorted, finished gathering his various journals, and made his way back out of the room.
Mustang was just being nice like Ed was best friends with Envy.

“Since you’re in for the week, I’ll show you a few books that should help your thesis later.”

Ed closed the door behind them. As the two men made their way down the stairs, a pleasantly
spicy aroma wafted out of the kitchen. Ed took his usual spot at the table and Al slid down
beside of him. The taller of the two didn’t bother waiting for permission as he grabbed the
top journal and started reading.

Al was the one person who picked up on Ed’s train of thought nearly as quickly as Ed did. He
thought Ed was brilliant for being able to come up with his theories, which never failed to
make pride well in Ed’s chest. Al knew everything wrong with Ed, had heard about all the
fucked-up shit he had seen and done, and was still able to see Ed in a positive light.

He still loved Ed.

Winry didn’t know the half of it, but her love still meant more to Ed than he could express.
The fact that they could love him. The fact that Maes could love him and Gracia could love
him. The way that Elicia adored him, so much like Nina had before her. It all astounded him.

Al though, Al’s opinion of Ed carried the most weight. He knew Ed inside and out. He was
even willing to publish Ed’s ideas under his own name, knowing that Ed was torn between
the need to get the information out there and his hatred for the fame that would come with
publishing. As much as Ed didn’t care to make a spectacle of himself, he generally didn’t like
being the center of attention. Al fixed all of that by publishing Ed’s works along with his
own.

It wouldn’t work if the taller boy didn’t understand the theories and concepts just as well as
Ed himself, which sometimes took days or even months, depending on how complicated they
were. Al took the time to do it though. And yes, Al loved alchemic theories as much as Ed,
but Ed’s theories weren’t Al’s preferred focus. He did it because he loved his older brother.

Ed snapped back to reality as Winry tugged his right arm up, none-too-gently pulling his
cloak sleeve off. He jerked his arm back on instinct. “What are you doing?”

“Dinner will be ready in ten. In the meantime, I’m going to check out the damage you’ve
done to my precious automail.”

She tugged the red cloth from where it opened at his shoulder this time. Ed leaned away from
Winry, towards Al. “What makes you think I’ve messed it up? I haven’t done anything
dangerous in months.”

“Come on, Brother, she’s only worried about you. Let her look.”

Al, the only mild-mannered of the three, ended the argument where it stood. Ed grumbled as
he removed his cloak. “Just don’t fuck it up. I really like this one.”

Winry snorted, more than used to Ed’s rough mannerisms. “Like I could. My work is always
immaculate, and you should learn to appreciate that instead of constantly breaking it.”

She sounded miffed, but as Ed looked down to see her pouring over his arm, he knew that
wasn’t the case. Winry cared for the Elric brothers as though they really were her family, and
Al even more so. Even if they wouldn’t admit their feelings to each other, they had no
problems admitting it to Ed.

Al had told Ed all about his feelings for Winry. They’d spent nights on end with Al ranting
about the worrisome things she did, the sweet things she said, and even how the moonlight
hit her hair just right. Winry never said quite as much, but she had confessed her feelings for
Al on multiple occasions. Each of those confessions were sealed with a threatening wrench
and a promise not to tell.
Ed didn’t know if it was true love or not, but that was sure what it looked like.

He would listen to their love troubles as long as they wanted, but they would have to let each
other know on their own. Ed was a lot of things. A middle-man wasn’t one of them.

“Brother, where does this connect?” Al pointed out a side-note Ed had scribbled on the edge
of a sketch.

Ed leaned over only to get yanked back towards Winry with a harsh, “Stay still.” Ed scowled
while Al laughed, instead joining Winry in Ed’s personal space to better ask his question.

Ed may not approve of Mustang’s methods or motives, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t
enjoying the results.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy tapped his fingers on the table, calmly waiting for his best friend to stop laughing.
Maes’s lips were twisted into a delighted grin that Roy found more irritating than usual.

“Roy, my friend, if there was doubt before, it’s gone now. Ed is definitely your Gracia.”

“I don’t think him kicking me out of my own house makes him my soulmate, Maes.”

Roy’s words were deadpanned, all humor long gone. He’d gotten enough jokes from his unit
throughout the day, and that was without telling them that he had made the decision to
actually heed Edward’s warning and spend the night at Maes’s.

“No, but you allowing yourself to get kicked out does.”

“I don’t understand.” The admission tasted bad in Roy’s mouth, so he washed it down with a
sip of whiskey. “I knew he would be upset over why I brought them in, but that reaction—
why would he be so afraid for them to travel?”

Roy had never worried about any of his friends going across the country. They could take
care of themselves, and Alphonse was no different. He was a successful, established
alchemist.

Maes took too long to answer, and Roy studied him more carefully. His best friend had
leaned back in his chair, smile fading. He watched Roy in a way that let the Colonel know
that he was deciding how much information to hand out.

Maes had a white V-neck on, upper body nicely toned despite his lack of time in the field.
Dark liquid swirled in Maes’s glass as he mulled it over. “When Ed was younger, Al decided
to meet him on one of his missions for a few days.”
Roy’s eyes narrowed as he took in the new information. He’d read every one of Ed’s reports,
and there was nothing about Alphonse ever being present.

“On the way there, someone realized who he was, and Al was captured. He’s a strong fighter
—he takes after his brother—but there’s a difference between knowing the motions or
theories and putting them into practice. He was taken, and Ed almost lost him.”

Roy didn’t doubt that Edward had proceeded to take what had happened to heart and place
the blame firmly on his own shoulders. He said, “Alphonse could’ve told him though. I
presented the idea of it being a surprise, but there’s no way he of all people wouldn’t know
how Fullmetal felt about him traveling on his own.”

“Honestly, Roy? I think a big part of it is because you were behind it.” Maes watched Roy
carefully, gauging his reaction. Roy didn’t bother to mask his frown. He and Edward had,
well, they hadn’t exactly been getting along lately, but they were doing better.

“Why would that make a difference?”

“He doesn’t trust you. In fact, he doesn’t just not trust you, he distrusts you.”

Roy set his whiskey down, not liking the way this conversation was going but wanting to be
at full attention for it.

Maes continued, “I know you mean well, but planning out how to get him is only going to
push him away. He’s used to people trying to control him from every angle. If you really
want him, you need to be the one who doesn’t. You need to talk to him, Roy. Really talk.”

Maes gave it to him as straight as he could, and the Colonel sighed, knowing that when it
came to romantic advice, Maes was never wrong. Roy could attract anyone he wanted, but
only superficially. Maes knew about love. That, above all else, was why Maes had Edward
accepting his place in the Hughes family and Roy had Edward forcibly staying in his home.
Fullmetal just didn’t do superficial.

He didn’t trust Roy, and Roy hadn’t done much to inspire trust between them. It would make
sense that his paranoia would skyrocket once Roy entered the picture. Roy, who always had
an ulterior motive. Roy, who had reached out to Edward’s brother for unknown reasons. Roy,
who had placed his brother in possible danger for a motive that ended up being a dance. A
dance and Roy’s ever-important reputation.

Alphonse’s life for politics: another thing Edward despised.

Yet again, Roy had to concede to the elder Elric. He had planned everything down to the last
detail only for Edward to bypass his plan for a path Roy hadn’t known existed. Again and
again and again, Roy found himself bested by the young man without Edward even trying.

Looking back with the new facts, he’d gone about it all wrong. He was still in the wrong.
Roy didn’t just want Edward to stop seeing him as an enemy. He wanted Edward to view him
as a friend. He wanted to know Edward like Maes did. Better than Maes did. Roy wanted
Fullmetal to smile at the thought of bonding instead of sneer.
The Colonel sighed, picked up his whiskey, and downed the rest of the glass. “I’ll go talk to
him.”

Roy pushed back his chair, readying to leave, but Maes was quicker. He stood, smile almost
too bright to look at, and placed hands firmly on Roy’s shoulders. “Oh, no, no, no. You’ve
been kicked out, remember? You can’t talk to him until tomorrow.” Maes sounded absolutely
gleeful.

Roy frowned. “It’s my house.”

Edward was a guest. He couldn’t actually kick Roy out.

Maes pushed Roy back into his chair and walked away, a grin on his face to match when he
had first convinced Roy to go on blind dates. Seconds later, he returned with two clean
glasses, a bottle of milk, and a plate of cookies.

“Roy, you’re a man in love.” Maes picked up a cookie and took a bite, the act of chewing
doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin. “It’s high time you spent a night on the couch.”

Roy groaned, knowing there was no way to escape his best friend’s home now, and reached
for a clean glass. He may not be in love, like Maes believed, but he was willing to fall. That
was more than Roy had ever been able to say before.

“Then fill me up, bartender.”

Maes smiled and poured them both a tall, cold glass of milk. Roy reached for one of Gracia’s
famous cookies, tapping it against Maes’s own in some form of a childish toast before taking
a bite.

“You know, one day it might be me over at your house eating Ed’s cookies.” Maes’s grin
reminded Roy of when they were preteens gossiping about the girls across the way, back
before the Civil War.

Roy scoffed. “He can’t cook.” He finished off his cookie and went for another. “The man
walks circles around legendary alchemic theorists and can’t boil a pot of water without
clapping first.”

“Still? Al mentioned he was terrible at it when they were younger, but I figured he would’ve
learned by now.” Maes’s grin turned mischievous. “Elicia, however, is a wonderful cook. She
helped make these, you know. I’m actually thinking of getting her a little chef’s hat and
apron. I think she’d be so cute and . . .”

Maes rambled on about his daughter and how wonderful she was. Roy rolled his eyes but let
the other man continue as he pleased. It’d been a long time since they’d hung out with no
business or problems or planning. They couldn’t really afford to be spontaneous these days
(not that Roy had ever been a very spontaneous man), and it was a nice change. Roy glanced
over the pictures that Maes had brought out with only mild interest as he took another bite of
his cookie.
It really was delicious, and Roy would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed that such a
little girl could make them. If Edward tried . . . well, it was a good thing that the blonde
didn’t drink milk because Roy was sure he would need something to wash the mess down.

He supposed the fact that he looked forward to eating them despite the taste spoke for itself.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed glanced up as Mustang entered the classroom. He’d been surprised when the Colonel
actually listened to him and stayed out of the house, and his guilt had only grown from there.
As much of an ass as Mustang was, Ed had no right to storm into his office and humiliate him
in front of his subordinates.

Instead of heading straight for Ed though, the Colonel strode to his normal seat and sat down
as though nothing had happened. Ed almost wished Winry hadn’t insisted on them not going
to school during vacation so that Al could face the music with him. Not that Al would do
much more than point out that whatever Mustang had to say was right, but his presence
would still be appreciated.

Mustang was a master at planning things out while Ed preferred to deal with them on the fly.
That meant Mustang had all night to perfect a revenge plot. Ed, on the other hand, had spent
those hours discussing theories with his younger brother and listening to Winry’s plans to
improve both the shop and his automail.

The first half of class was spent with Ed glancing between the clock and Mustang. Neither
gave him any peace of mind. Come break time, Ed was finished waiting. He stood from his
seat, probably for the first time that semester, and walked to Mustang.

Tringham stopped talking as Ed approached, and the rest were quick to follow. Lust looked
amused, Tringham unimpressed, Sheska embarrassed, Greeling mildly interested, and
Mustang curious. Ed squared his shoulders, feeling as though he was about to go to war.

“We need to talk.”

Ed almost cringed at his own lack of finesse, but talking about his feelings had never been his
strong suit. He didn’t have too much pride to apologize when he was wrong, but it wasn’t
exactly easy to bare his neck, either.

Mustang cocked a slim brow. “Alright, after class we can—”

“Now, Mustang.”

Okay, so he wasn’t exactly in a position to be demanding, but patience had never been one of
Ed’s strong suits, either. Ed watched Greeling give a toothy grin before his attention was
drawn back to the Colonel, who’d stood in preparation to leave.
“Roy, why are you listening to this asshole? Hasn’t he ruined this class enough for you
already?”

Tringham wasn’t happy with Ed’s attitude, and he wasn’t afraid to say it. Sheska gave
Tringham a disapproving look, letting Ed know that Mustang had never implied that he’d
been strong-armed into choosing Ed. The Humunculi siblings looked pleasantly amused.

Fucking sadists.

They passed Armstrong on their way out, Mustang giving him a meaningful look that the
muscular man returned. It wasn’t until they reached a deserted classroom that Ed bothered to
stop, knowing that Armstrong didn’t expect them back on time. His braid swung around with
the force of his turn as he prepared to take whatever lashings Mustang decided he deserved.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait. What?” Ed’s thoughts stuttered. “Why the hell are you apologizing? I’m the one who
went off on you and made a scene in front of your men. And then . . .” Ed hesitated, more
embarrassed then he would like to admit. “And then kicked you out of your own house.” He
looked off to the side as he said it, not really wanting to take credit for how childish he’d
been. “I mean, I don’t regret telling you off because you really fucking deserved it, but I
shouldn’t have done it while you were at work.” Ed finally raised his head to meet Mustang’s
unflinching gaze. “And in my defense, I didn’t think you’d actually fucking listen to me and
stay at Maes’s. I mean, it’s your house.”

(Though it was probably for the best that he did stay away, as Ed hadn’t calmed down and
seen what Al was trying to explain to him about how he’d handled the situation until
breakfast that morning.)

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have come to my work with your personal business.”

Ed cringed but didn’t argue, prepared for whatever reprimands he would receive.

Mustang continued, “You’re also correct in that I deserved it.”

Surprise flitted through Ed, and this time when he caught Mustang’s eyes, he couldn’t have
looked away if he tried.

“I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near your family. I wanted you to attend the ball, and I
knew Winry would love to go. I equally knew that if she and your brother went, they would
convince you to come with them, whether you liked it or not. I crossed a line, and I
apologize.”

He sounded so much more refined in his apology than Ed had, and not for the first time, Ed
felt like a little kid standing next to a well-rounded adult.

“It . . . it’s not fine, but you couldn’t have known I would be so against it—”

“I couldn’t have known Alphonse had been kidnapped before, no.” Mustang paused, and Ed
understood that Maes must have explained it the night before. “But I should’ve taken into
account that you have enemies, and I should’ve protected your family accordingly. Look,
Fullmetal, I know you don’t trust me. I haven’t given you any reason to trust me. If we want
to survive these next few weeks together, we have to change that.”

Mustang stopped speaking, seeming to be thinking something over. Ed didn’t dare interrupt,
should whatever understanding they had be lost with the silence.

“I’m manipulative. It’s how I work, and that won’t change anytime soon. I’ll go behind your
back, and I’ll tug you one way or the other if I think that will get me what I want. That being
said, I’ll try and do it less often. And if you call me out on it, I promise to tell you the truth.”
Before Ed could express his disbelief, the Colonel continued, “In return, you have to give me
the benefit of the doubt. I know you’re used to people using you for their own gain, and I
can’t promise I’ll never do that, but know that nothing I’ve ever done has been meant to harm
you. I am selfish. There’s no getting around that. But if getting what I want would hurt you,
I’d rather give it up.”

Ed continued to stare long after Mustang had finished. There had to be a reason he was
saying this. There had to be an ulterior motive. There had to be . . . But dark, intelligent eyes
were earnest. Mustang held out a hand, his left one, for Ed to shake.

“Do we have a deal?”

Suspicions swirled in Ed’s chest and clouded his thoughts. Mustang was right. Ed didn’t trust
him. At the same time, Ed could usually tell when someone was lying, and Mustang seemed
sincere.

It would certainly make life easier. He wouldn’t have to worry as much about Mustang using
him like a puppet. Could he actually trust that the Colonel would keep his end of the bargain
though? Could he actually trust Mustang?

Ed put his flesh hand out, keeping it centimeters from Mustang’s as he countered, “Why did
you choose me?”

If Mustang told the truth, Ed would agree to the deal. If he lied or tried to get around the
question again, things would go back to the way they were. Obsidian eyes stared
unblinkingly forward, and Ed could almost see the cogs turning in the Colonel’s mind.

Without warning, Mustang clasped Ed’s hand. He tugged Ed forward until their chests were
flush together, their lips perfectly connected in a chaste kiss.

Ed’s Core soared at the contact, and he heard himself moan. Short (painfully short) seconds
later, Mustang pulled away, obsidian eyes studying Ed for a reaction.

Ed blinked, disoriented as to what, exactly, had just happened. The way Mustang was looking
at him—the way he held Ed’s hand, continuously sending pleasant sparks through Ed’s body
—said enough.

“That’s why.”
 The admission was a breathless whisper, still too loud in the silence of the classroom. Ed
numbly shook Mustang’s hand, then jerked away. He moved until he was out of Mustang’s
personal space and, more importantly, Mustang was out of his. He had just—they had just—
Ed had never kissed anyone before.

He wasn’t sure if it was because his Core had been sent into overdrive or if Mustang was just
a phenomenal kisser or both, but it had felt good. More than good.

Ed inhaled shakily as he stared at the Colonel, warier than ever despite their truce. Roy
fucking Mustang couldn’t like him. It wasn’t possible.

The satisfied smirk sitting on arrogant lips said otherwise though. Ed didn’t need a mirror to
know he was blushing.

“We should get back to class.” Ed licked his lips, half expecting them to taste different from
normal and pleasantly surprised to find that they didn’t. Mustang ran his eyes slowly over
Ed’s form, taking him in. Ed frowned. “Don’t think for a minute that I won’t kick your ass
into next week if you pull a stunt like that again.”

Mustang chuckled at the threat, his laugh deep and soft, and raised his gloved hands into a
mock-defensive position. “Understood.”

But that calculating glint was back, and Ed knew the man wouldn’t be giving up whatever he
was scheming anytime soon.

“I still don’t trust you.”

“I didn’t expect you would.”

Mustang sounded amused. Ed rolled his eyes before opening the door to the hallway. He
didn’t know how serious the Colonel was about what he’d just done. Ed wasn’t entirely sure
he wanted to know. For the moment, he was just glad to have reached some sort of
agreement.

They could hash out Ed’s unwillingness to be one of Mustang’s play-things later.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Class had ended by the time they headed to classroom again. Ed decided the best plan of
action was to quickly gather his things and go find Al and Winry. They would want to hear
about this new development, and Al would know what Ed should do next.

The door opened before they could enter the room, and Ed was surprised to see the two
people he’d been thinking about on the other side.

“Al?”

Al grabbed Ed and yanked him into the room. Ed felt his back press firmly against his
younger, taller brother’s chest while the boy’s arms wrapped protectively around him. Ed
glanced up to see Al glaring dangerously at Mustang.

“Are you alright, Brother? We came to meet you after class, but Alex said you and the
Colonel had left halfway through.”

Ed cocked a brow. “I’m fine, Al. You know I can handle the bastard.”

Al hummed, making no attempt to explain his odd behavior. He pulled Ed even closer to
himself and farther from Mustang. Ed glanced curiously at the other State Alchemist,
confused at what he had done to put Al so on edge.

“Manhandle him all you want later. We need to go shopping.” Winry moved to block Ed’s
view, a grin on her face that Ed’s wallet knew too well. “I haven’t been to Central in a while,
and I need supplies. Not to mention a dress for the ball. And I’m sure you don’t have
anything to wear, let alone something for Al to borrow. He’s gotten even taller, you know.”

She smiled sweetly as Ed frowned, well aware that his younger brother towered over him at
an impressive 181 centimeters. “What makes you think I’m going to pay for your supplies?
And what do you need a dress for? We aren’t going to the stupid ball.”

Winry straightened up at his refusal, her arms crossing over her bosom. “You’re buying my
supplies because it’s your fault they get broken, and we are going. It’s every beautiful young
girl’s dream to get swept off her feet in a beautiful dress by a beautiful man at a stunning
ball.” She sighed dreamily before pulling a wrench from thin air and waving it in his face.
“We’ve already got the beautiful young girl and the stunning ball. You aren’t going to stand
in the way of me finding the beautiful man just because you’re too cheap to provide the
beautiful dress.”

The wrench got a little too close to Ed’s face for his comfort, especially since he couldn’t
back away with Al behind him. Ed looked up in time to see disappointment flash across Al’s
face at the mention of Winry looking for another man to sweep her off her feet. Ed sighed,
knowing this was a battle he had long since lost.

“Now, come on. We’re going to need all the time we can get.” She grabbed both Ed and Al’s
arms, hooking their elbows together as she successfully separated the brothers. Winry pulled
them through the too-small door that the Colonel had smartly moved away from, giving
nothing more than a quick, “Later, Mustang,” before dragging them out of the school
building.

They visited seven dress shops throughout the day, Winry tried on too many dresses to count,
and it wasn’t until it was dark outside that she finally decided on a gorgeous (incredibly
expensive) blue ball gown that brought out her eyes and had Al swooning like nothing else. It
tied around her neck with an open back and had dainty gold designs at the bottom that served
to complement both her hair and tan complexion. It hurt Ed’s wallet, but only half as much as
the matching jewelry and shoes. He didn’t even want to think about how much their custom
suits had cost.

Ed and Al had gotten their suit measurements at the first store, neither of them picky or even
sure what they were buying, and allowed Winry to make all of the fashion choices for them.
Neither had been allowed to see what she had decided on (Winry insisted on surprising them)
but Ed saw her secretly purchase a blue tie to match her dress at the final store.

Ed sighed as he watched Al carry all their new things, knowing that she only did this to Ed’s
bank account but not really minding. It wasn’t as though he had anything else to spend it on.

The only thing Winry was finished with, of course, was acting like a girl. She immediately
changed direction to her favorite mechanics’ shop. Three stores later, both Ed and Al had
their arms full. Winry looked them over with a triumphant grin, streetlights illuminating her
joy, and declared the day over. They had shopped until the dead of night, eaten amazing food
at a restaurant Ed had never been to before, stopped Al from taking home every stray cat the
city had to offer, and overall had an incredible day.

The walk to Mustang’s would take a good forty-five minutes, which would suck with all of
the metal he was carrying, but Ed had to admit he’d had fun. It was nice to just hang out
again, even with Al flipping out over Mustang kissing him and berating Ed for letting the
man get too close.

Without warning, Ed’s senses went on high alert. He tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck
rising, and tossed a hand out to quiet Al. The younger man paused, glancing around the dark
and empty street to see what had put Ed on edge.

Winry asked, “Ed, what are you—”

Ed silenced her by shoving all of the bags he’d been carrying into her empty arms. “Run back
to Mustang’s as fast as you can. Don’t stop until you get there.”

Ed wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t good. Al’s eyes narrowed while
Winry situated the merchandise that had been shoved on her.
“Brother—”

“Keep her safe.”

Al hesitated a moment longer, then gave a decisive nod and turned to run. Winry tossed one
more concerned look at Ed before following. Once they were gone, Ed took in his
surroundings more carefully, not liking that he was unable to figure out where the thing was
hiding.

He didn’t have to wait long as a beast more than twice his size leapt from the shadows. He
raised his automail arm, a shield rather than a weapon. It tackled him to the ground, teeth
latching to metal while one large paw dug into his abdomen. Pain seared as his skin tore.

Ed hissed through his teeth as maneuvered the soles of his shoes against the thing’s belly and
kicked as hard as he could. It thrashed and growled, back paws in the dirt halving the
distance it should’ve slid. Its teeth left scrapes across his automail. Ed got to his feet without
taking his eyes off of what was now obviously a chimera. He slipped off his red cloak and let
it drop to the ground behind him.

It figured that the second Mustang would bring up the possibility of a chimera existing, it
would attack Ed.

This creature was one of the nastier creations Ed had seen. Its head was something between a
wolf and a tiger with a torso that could’ve been human if not for the fur. Large arms morphed
into dangerously large paws with what Ed now knew were incredibly sharp claws. The lower
body had a long, whip-like tail and hooved feet meant for running things down.

Ed crouched into a defensive position, knowing that this wouldn’t be one of his easier fights,
and transmuted his arm into a lance. The bright blue light seemed to bring the chimera back
to reality as it snarled and lunged.

Unlike the first attack, Ed was ready. When the beast came for his face, he made sure the
middle of the lance was there to chew on instead. The weapon broke in a single bite, leaving
shrapnel in the monster’s mouth. Ed took the moment of confusion to slam his automail fist,
broken lance blade and all, into the chimera’s face. The thing howled as its cheek ripped
open, its body moving a meter to the side at the force of the blow.

Ed slammed both hands on the ground to transmute spikes leading from him to the chimera.
It leapt away as the ground started to move, but the beast was made more for strength than
speed. Its soft underbelly scraped over the spike-tips. It whined, furious, and rushed at Ed. It
rammed the top of its head against Ed’s stomach, and stabbing pain told him it had horns.

Its paw smashed harshly into Ed’s automail, claws curling out to dig into the metal. Ed
cringed as he felt some of his control over the limb slip. Anger met his pain, beat for beat. Ed
lifted his arm and, by proxy, the chimera’s arm, to curl his fingers into its mane. He yanked as
harshly as his malfunctions would let him, simultaneously dragging the beast’s head back
(uncaring of its horns mutilating his chest) and breaking its arm.
The chimera howled and flailed. It cracked Ed in the face with its skull. His vision blurred,
pain hitting a crescendo. His grip loosened. It jumped away, one arm limp at its side, and
stared down Ed’s arm. It’d obviously identified Ed’s automail as its worst threat, and Ed
yearned for the days when these things couldn’t think for themselves.

The monster dove forward again. Ed transmuted knuckle-dusters onto his automail hand and
punched the beast directly on the wounded part of its face. Once. Twice. Three times. It
turned and took Ed’s hand into its mouth. His knuckle dusters cut the fleshy roof of its
mouth. It bit down, teeth severing automail with a harsh crack.

Ed reared back. He needed to end this soon or he was a goner. He yanked as hard as he could,
screaming through clenched teeth as the nerve endings connected to his automail stretched.
He left half his arm in the thing’s mouth.

It gnawed on his arm, and Ed didn’t wait for it to figure out he was no longer attached. He
transmuted what was left of his arm into a blade. It looked up, blue light drawing its
attention, and spat out the rest of his arm.

This time, it was Ed who lunged. He faked left and moved right, raising his automail leg for a
roundhouse kick. His foot slammed into its chest with a heavy thud, knocking it to the
ground. It lifted its head, but Ed was faster. He rammed his blade straight through the wound
in its cheek, not stopping until metal hit earth. The creature’s blood spattered across his upper
body. Lifeless eyes stared endlessly out.

Ed sighed, the weight of having ended yet another life settling heavy on his shoulders. His
blade slipped out of the carcass as he stood. He transmuted it back into what was left of his
arm. He picked up the remains of his automail with his good hand and began the trek to find
a pay-phone. Mustang would want to know about this.

Only, Ed didn’t actually know Mustang’s number. He had only called from it, never to it. Ed
heaved a deeper sigh as he spotted a phone booth a few meters away. He walked over and
dialed the only number he knew would get a response.

“Hughes household. Maes speaking.”

Maes sounded happy. Ed frowned, guilt burgeoning for interrupting the other soldier’s family
time.

“Hey, Maes. It’s Ed.”

Before Ed could say anything else, Maes was speaking again, tone distinctly less jovial. “Ed?
What’s wrong?”

Ed figured he must be in pretty rough shape if Maes could tell something was off just from
his voice. “I’m fine. It’s just . . . could you get Mustang to come down to the old mill off First
Street? I just confirmed his chimera problem.” Ed tried to lighten the mood with a laugh, but
it ended up being more of a wheezing cough. Geez, how hard had that thing hit him?
Maes’s end of the line went silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “I’ll get right on it. My
house is closer, so I should arrive first, but he won’t be far behind. Just stay put, alright?”

Ed nodded, ignoring the fact that there was no one around to see him. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

“Good.” A pause. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

This time, Ed really did chuckle, though it had a dash of bitterness mixed in with the humor.
“I’ve been through a lot worse than this, believe me.”

More silence. “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

Ed hung up before he heard the dial tone. He hobbled back to the carcass of the chimera to sit
and wait. Winry was going to kill him for the damage he had done, but at least he’d
confirmed the rumors: there were definitely chimera being made in Central.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy watched Alphonse pace a hole in his kitchen floor. Winry sat at the table with Roy, but
she preferred staring into her tea. It’d been twenty minutes since they’d returned without
Edward. The younger Elric’s first instinct had been for them to hop in Roy’s car and go back,
but Roy had been quick to shut that down.

There was a chance Edward had already beaten whatever attacked and was making his way
home. There was also a chance that he was still fighting and had sent his family back to Roy
so he could keep them safe. It was the second option that grounded him.

Fullmetal was far from weak. He could more than hold his own in a fight. If Roy went to
help, Alphonse would insist on tagging along, and there was a high probability that Winry
would follow. If Edward had sent them back here to keep them safe, Roy would keep them
safe.

So there they sat, or in Alphonse’s case, paced, until the phone rang. The younger Elric
jumped, and Roy had to shoot him a pointed look to stop him from answering. There was no
telling if the person on the other line was Edward or not. Roy didn’t need the world knowing
that both Elrics were staying at his house.

“Mustang residence.” Roy prided himself on sounding like it was just another night.

“Roy, are you free?” Roy frowned as Maes’s voice came through the line. He never called
this late unless something was wrong. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Drop whatever you’re
doing and head down to the old mill off First Street. The one near the bakery you like. Ed’s
had a run-in with that chimera you were about to look for, and he didn’t sound like he made it
out unscathed. I assume Al and Winry are with you?”
“Yeah. They’re here.” Roy looked over at the two blondes to see them glance at each other,
obviously convinced Roy was speaking to Fullmetal.

“Good. I’m heading down there now with a first aid kit. See you soon.”

The urgent note in Maes’s voice left no room for extra conversation. Roy hung up and walked
toward the door, hand already reaching for his keys.

“Was it Brother? Is he okay?”

Alphonse’s attention was focused solely on Roy. The Colonel distractedly noted that
Alphonse would do well in an interrogation room if the matter involved his brother.

“It was Maes. Ed found a chimera. We don’t know anything else.” Roy opened the door,
impatience finally shining through as he turned to his newest house-guests. “Are you coming
or not?”

They moved as quickly as he had spoken, both eager to check on the final member of their
little family. Winry slid into the front seat, next to Roy, and Alphonse practically jumped into
the back. Roy didn’t bother telling them to buckle up, instead pulling out of his driveway and
going more than a little over the speed limit. They reached the mill without issue. Roy pulled
to a stop next to Maes’s vehicle. Alphonse and Winry were out of the car before Roy could
turn it off.

When Roy got out of the car, he walked over to the five figures in the darkness. Alphonse and
Winry were both talking to Edward, who looked to be alright, while Maes stood in between
the trio and what Roy assumed was the chimera. It was a ghastly thing, different animals
mixing almost unidentifiably with an unnaturally bent arm and barely-intact skull. Fullmetal
had certainly done a number on the beast.

As Roy got closer, Winry’s body stopped blocking the number that the beast had done back to
Edward. Roy’s stomach churned.

Edward’s shirt was in tatters. The scraps of remaining cloth did nothing to hide the deep
gashes running up his chest and the dark bruises already beginning to form. The skin nearest
his automail shoulder was an angry red. The junction of flesh and metal was bleeding, most
likely from whatever force had ripped half of his arm off.

(If the scrap metal hanging from his shoulder could even be called an arm anymore.)

“Fullmetal, are you—”

Edward cut Roy off with an irritated glare. “I’m fine! I’m fine, already. Geez, would you
guys let up? These are barely scratches.” He motioned to the deep gashes stretching from his
abdomen to his upper chest. “And Winry’ll fix this right up, so . . .” Edward trailed off.

Winry huffed. “Fix it right up? Ed, this will take all day tomorrow! You’re lucky we did the
shopping today and even luckier I came prepared for you to have dented it. This though—”
She moved the limb to prove her point, stopping short when Edward’s body stilled
completely, his face twisting into a pained grimace. Winry frowned, carefully lowering the
mangled metal back to his side. “You even managed to damage the nerve circuits, you
dummy. We’re going to have to remove this tonight if you want to keep all your mobility.”

She sounded annoyed, but it was clear that she didn’t like to see Edward in pain. Roy looked
Edward over another time before moving his attention to the corpse, then to Maes. The
intelligence specialist nodded, giving Roy the go-ahead to call in backup.

Roy would take credit for discovery, as planned. As soon as Edward’s story checked out,
Maes would take the Elric brothers and their childhood friend back to Roy’s house. Roy
would join them shortly after the situation was cleaned up.

He made his way over to the nearest phone booth, drops of blood letting him know that it was
the same one Edward had used, and called the necessary military officials to deal with a dead
chimera. They arrived within minutes. After a choppy, hour-long report involving a lot of, “I
just fucking killed it, okay?” and “I’m not going to the damn hospital!” Edward was able to
leave with Maes, Winry, and Alphonse.

Questions about why and how Roy had come across the chimera and what he was going to do
next kept him away for another two hours. It was around three morning by the time he got
home. He opened the door to find Maes and Alphonse chatting quietly on the couch. Roy
stripped off his petty coat and uniform jacket, hanging them both on the rack by the door.

“Where’s Fullmetal?”

Maes stood, setting his cup of tea on the coffee table and walking over to Roy with a tired
smile. “He’s up in his room. Resting. After Winry removed the remainder of his arm, I was
able to patch him up pretty well. Winry fell asleep after starting on Ed’s new arm, and we laid
her down with him.” Maes put a comforting hand on Roy’s shoulder as he passed by, no
doubt needing to get back and report to his worried wife. “He’s going to be fine, Roy.” Maes
squeezed his arm, dropped his grip on Roy, and made his way out. “You all get some rest. I’ll
check in later.”

He closed the door behind him, leaving Roy alone with Alphonse. Roy faced the youngest
Elric and asked, “How are you holding up?”

“What do you want with my brother?”

The question was straightforward. Golden eyes were intent. Roy breathed a soft sigh,
knowing if he ever wanted anything with Edward, he was going to have to get Alphonse’s
approval first.

“He’s my Intended.”

Roy wouldn’t lie. It felt good to say that to someone other than Maes.

Alphonse pitched forward, eyes wide in disbelief. “He can’t be! He’s got—” If possible,
Alphonse’s eyes widened further. “You-you’ve got . . .” He covered his eyes with the heels of
his palms and groaned. “Damn it, Brother.”
Roy cocked a brow. “I’ve got what?”

Roy kept his tone and expression lightly curious, concealing his suspicions that whatever
Alphonse was going to say had something to do with what Edward and Maes were hiding.

“You’ve got a contract with the military.” Alphonse practically spat the word military. Roy
frowned, unsure if the hesitation before speaking was because the boy was lying or if he
really felt that strongly about it. “Brother hates the military. As soon as his contract is up, he’s
going to leave, cutting all ties with it. Maes is the only person he’ll keep up with, I’m sure.”
A pause. “Edward’s going to move back to Resembool with us.”

Alphonse’s words were forceful and rang with truth, but if there was one thing the Elric
brothers had in common, it was that they were terrible at lying. Unfortunately, cover story or
not, the younger alchemist had a point. Edward hated the military while the military was
Roy’s entire life.

Roy had assumed he would convince Edward to join his unit after school ended. Fullmetal
would still get sent into the field, but Roy would be able to keep much better tabs on him. He
could steer the Major away from the nastier assignments. It would even be acceptable for him
to work with Maes in Central’s intelligence department. Not only would it be safer, but he
would be able to put his extensive intelligence to good use while keeping up his theories.

Unless Edward wouldn’t consider Roy a prospect because of his ties to the military. Fullmetal
hated everything that Roy thrived on, save alchemy. Roy hadn’t thought it an issue until that
point, as Edward had no choice for two more years. That, by default, gave Roy two years to
convince him that the military could be his future, too.

Had he lost the battle before it even began?

Roy narrowed his eyes.

No. No, Fullmetal wouldn’t judge someone based on background. Whether or not Roy was in
the military wouldn’t make or break his chances. After all, he hadn’t broken Roy’s jaw when
the Colonel had kissed him. He had moaned. Soft and low and unintentional: just enough to
tease. Which meant Alphonse was hiding something else.

Roy studied the younger Elric through lowered lashes. Could he hide something that Roy had
though? Something that Edward had, yes, but something Roy had? Something they had in
common?

Roy schooled his expression as an idea—an impossible, unthinkable, completely fitting idea
—hit him.

“If that’s what he really wants, I won’t stop him.”

Apparently that wasn’t the answer Alphonse was expecting. Golden eyes searched Roy for
signs of deception, an echo of their elder counterpart. They wouldn’t find it. Much like when
hashing things out with Edward, Roy found that it was time to be honest.
Well, honest enough.

“I’m not trying to tie Edward down, Alphonse. I don’t intend to chain him to the military or
use him to better my reputation. Think about it: his reckless actions and inability to shut up
will call for a political open fire on me if I tie my name to his.”

Alphonse’s posture grew more wary, if possible, and Roy knew something was breaking
through that famous Elric stubbornness.

“At the end of the school year, if Fullmetal never wants to see me again, I’ll do everything in
my power to make that happen.” Roy held Alphonse’s gaze, imparting seriousness. “But if he
decides he wants to stay with me, even if he doesn’t want to bond”—yet— “you can’t stop
him. I’m not asking you to hand your brother over to me. I’m asking you to let me have a
chance.”

Alphonse stared Roy down, clearly unhappy with the turn this talk had taken. Without
warning, his determined expression softened into something closer to a pout, and he slumped
into the couch.

“I visited Maes while you two were in class. He told me not to worry about your living
situation because you would never hurt him. Brother can handle his own in a fight with most
anyone, so I knew he had to mean emotionally. Brother doesn’t much like you, but he’s had
to deal with plenty of people he doesn’t like over the years, and Maes’s smile was too soft to
be talking about a bad situation. So, I knew he meant good feelings, and I knew he was
talking about you. The rest just fell into place.” Alphonse sighed, his brilliance shining even
in the dead of night. “Or so I thought. I figured you were trying to seduce him so he would
date you and up your status. He may suck politically, but having the Alchemist of the People
on your side never made the polls go down.”

Alphonse shot Roy a look. The Colonel chuckled at being caught. Then Alphonse turned his
eyes to his tea, tense and displeased, and Roy knew he couldn’t leave it there.

Roy half-whispered, “Don’t tell him.”

It was more than a request but less than a demand. Alphonse looked at him like he was crazy.
“You can’t expect me to keep this from—”

“You said it yourself, Alphonse. Fullmetal doesn’t like me. What do you think he would do if
you marched up to him and said I wanted to bond?”

Alphonse looked away, understanding the situation but not liking how it was playing out.

Roy continued, “He would reject me in an instant. I know your brother and I aren’t that close,
but we’re getting there. Day by day, we’re getting to know each other, and I think it’s up to
him to decide whether or not I’m worth it when the time comes.”

Roy stared at Alphonse even though the blonde wouldn’t look up from his tea.
 Alphonse sighed. “You know, if I wasn’t playing the same waiting game with Winry, I
wouldn’t be able to agree to this.” He sounded almost as though he, himself, didn’t believe
that he was actually going along with Roy’s request. Golden eyes looked up again, this time
deadly serious. “If there’s even a second where I think this is some game to you—a moment
of doubt in your sincerity—I’ll oust you without a second thought. I’ll tell Brother everything
I know, and he . . . he’ll decide on his own from there.”

Roy blinked twice, more than a little surprised. He had expected Alphonse would tell
Fullmetal to steer clear at that point.

Alphonse went on. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. Not with someone like Maes as a best
friend. I’m just worried about . . . Brother isn’t . . . He doesn’t have the same experiences as
you or me.”

Roy cocked a brow, for once not seeing where the conversation was heading. When Alphonse
didn’t explain, Roy prodded him on. “Experiences?”

He couldn’t think of any experiences that he and Alphonse shared but Edward didn’t.
Alphonse, displeased with Roy’s lack of knowledge, huffed and scratched the back of his
head. A habit he no doubt picked up from his brother.

“That kiss you gave him today? It was his first.”

Roy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. That couldn’t have been Fullmetal’s first kiss.
The man was a handsome, brilliant, famous, eligible bachelor who spent all of his time on the
road. With how much traveling he did, he could have a few new partners a week if he
wanted. Surely he must’ve gotten curious at some point, if not for love than just to see what it
was like?

Only the look in Alphonse’s eyes said differently. Fullmetal wasn’t that kind of man, and if
Roy’s earlier suspicion was right, then . . .

“He’s spent his entire life fighting, learning alchemy, and doing the military’s bidding. He’s
done it with the sole purpose of providing a better life for me. Not a day—not a single day—
has gone by that he’s focused on himself since our mom passed. He doesn’t know how to tell
when someone likes him because he doesn’t see himself like that. All Brother sees are the
people he cares about and ways to protect them. He’s . . .” Alphonse’s lips tugged into a
frown as he trailed off. “Courting him isn’t going to be easy, and I don’t intend to make it any
easier.” The blonde set his teacup on the table and stood, obviously finished with the
conversation. “Just be careful with him, okay?”

Roy nodded, and the final of his house-guests walked up the steps to rest with his family. The
Colonel may not have gotten Alphonse’s blessing, but he had permission.

He could work with that.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Roy woke up early. He was awake and dressed and ready while the sun was still only
considering making an appearance. When he entered the living room, he was greeted by the
sight of Winry hard at work on Edward’s new arm.

She was bright. There was no denying that. What shone through more in that moment though,
was the loyalty, love, and dedication she held for Edward. They stared at each other for a
moment, a silent understanding passing between them, before Roy nodded and left the house.

Usually, Roy needed to be in class first thing. He would often go into work beforehand, but
that had lessened when he’d started living with Edward. Today, however, he had business
related to neither school nor work. He drove a familiar route almost without thinking about it,
and it wasn’t until Roy reached Maes’s front door, sun peaking over the horizon, that he
tuned back into reality.

He knocked three times. Maes opened the door a few seconds later. Roy gave him a pointed
look, letting him know that they couldn’t speak in public. Maes’s expression darkened in
understanding as he welcomed Roy into the house.

“It’s Roy. We’ll be upstairs for a bit, alright?” Maes half-shouted across the house,
calculating eyes never leaving Roy.

Gracia responded in turn. “Alright. We’ll be down here if you need anything.”

She knew the drill at this point, though Roy rarely ever came unexpectedly anymore. The two
men moved up the stairwell to Maes’s room. As soon as the door closed, the words tumbled
out.

“He has an Energy Fire Core, doesn’t he?”

Roy whispered despite the knowledge that this was one of the safest places to speak in the
world. None of the doubt over his theory leaked into his voice. Maes’s eyes hardened, lips
twitching into a fraction of a frown. Roy’s ability to breathe stuttered as the weight of the
truth hit home.

--“Fuck off, Mustang” lit the air in front of Roy’s face via flames unlike anything Roy had
felt before. Russell sneered, immediately assuming that Edward was trying to impress Roy.
Solaris chuckled and Gerard’s brows rose, his signature sunglasses sliding down his nose so
he could get a better look at the fiery response. Roy was entranced. Whatever alchemy
Edward was using, it spoke to Roy’s very Core. He wanted more than anything to keep it
going as long as possible.
“What’s it like?” Roy raised his eyes to see Edward looking at him. He cocked a brow.
Edward didn’t clarify. Roy was about to ask what he meant when the blonde finally
murmured, “Being able to bond with whoever you want.”

--“What happened?” Roy’s question hung in the air for a few seconds, Maes’s expression
unreadable. The silence sat heavily in the room, interrupted only by Edward’s light,
shuddered breathing. Finally, Maes responded, tone airy.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Roy.”

Roy sat on the bed. He bent over, elbows digging into his knees, and covered his face with
his hands. Edward hadn’t figured out a new way to stabilize the energy of a Core holder
going through their inheritance. He had drawn Roy’s heat into himself, then suffered through
the inheritance with him. Maybe he’d even experienced worse afterwards.

Roy had been the cause of Edward’s sickness that night. It was all right in front of him. How
could he have missed—

“We have a partial bond.”

It wasn’t a question. That was why Edward had swooned when they touched. That was why
he’d worked so hard to avoid Roy after his inheritance. That was why he moaned when they
kissed. It wasn’t anything Edward felt for Roy. It was the blonde’s Core reacting to a close
proximity with Roy’s because the idiot didn’t know how not to be selfless.

This made everything so much more complicated. What was he supposed to do now? Walk
up to Edward and casually let him know that he had figured out the blonde’s most well-kept
secret? Edward would never believe that he had only come upon it recently. He would never
believe that Roy had wanted him before finding out about his Core.

This . . . Roy had to keep going without letting Fullmetal know he knew. At the same time, he
couldn’t just carry on as though he didn’t know. This changed everything.

Edward could bond only to Activation Fire Core holders (almost exclusively to Roy, at this
point), and that made him a powerful political tool. That was without taking his strong
alchemic prowess, impressive military title, overwhelming intelligence, and reputation as the
Alchemist of the People into account. To avoid becoming that tool—to avoid being used—
Edward would do near anything.

Even more so since people would try to go through his brother to get to him.

If Edward thought even for a second that Roy was going to use him to get a higher place on
the totem pole (a thought Edward would no doubt have the moment he found out Roy knew),
he would pull away and never return. Roy’s entire plan had to be trashed. Again.

First off, the Colonel had to make Edward fall in love with him with the least amount of
touching possible. Every time their hands brushed, every kiss they shared, Edward would
become more convinced that the connection they had was a side effect of the partial bond. If
Roy wanted to convince the blonde of anything lasting, he would have to ditch his reliance
on what he had before considered his foothold in the courting process: Edward’s sexual
attraction to him.

He supposed it was a good thing he’d kissed Fullmetal when he had the chance because it
would be quite a while before he could take another.

There had never been a recorded partial bond between Fire Core holders. Partial bonds in
general were rare. Roy only knew of fifty or so in history. They were most common between
Water and Steel types, as Steel bonded very well with Water, but Water bonded poorly with
Steel. Sometimes, that was too much for the Core holders’ bodies or wills to overcome.

Fire Cores, on the other hand, attracted each other like nothing else. If Roy had been
conscious, the want to feel the pleasure of a completed bond probably would’ve overridden
logic. He would have completed the bond without thinking about it.

Roy’s fingers curled more tightly into his hair as he realized that Edward had not only taken
on the pain of his inheritance but the pain of an incomplete bond as well. How he’d made it
out of the room, let alone home, the night after Roy’s inheritance was a mystery.

Had he felt pain after Roy touched his arm, too? After they’d kissed? Cores were
temperamental things. The only way to know how a Core would react to new stimuli was to
be there when it happened. Decently accurate assumptions could be made, but nothing was
ever one hundred percent certain.

It was only recently, less than seventy-five years ago, that alchemists were identified by
whether or not they held Cores. Before that, alchemists were people who had the ability to do
alchemy, and Cores were something that random people happened to have.

Children generally became aware of their Cores and Core types between the ages of eight and
ten. People occasionally discovered their Cores outside that age range, but it was rare. Recent
technology allowed doctors to check for Core presence and identify Core type, but the
quickest and easiest way was to find out naturally. Roy didn’t doubt that Fullmetal had
figured out the consequences of his Core soon after realizing he had one. If he’d run off in an
excited frenzy and told people—much like Roy had—then things would be far different.

Only he hadn’t, and they weren’t.

Fullmetal wasn’t just acting on a distrust of Roy. He was acting on a distrust of humanity.
Roy now more than ever needed to become aware of Edward’s habits—his likes, dislikes,
dreams, and beliefs—and show the blonde that he could be depended on. No more games.

Alphonse. Winry. Maes. They were the people Edward felt comfortable with. They were the
ones he trusted. If Roy wanted to join that circle, he was going to have to give this priority. If
he wanted Edward to want to complete the bond, he had to do things Edward’s way. As much
as Roy really, truly despised it, his plans had to be burned yet again, and this time he couldn’t
make new ones.

It was time Roy stepped up and acted like the man he so often pretended to be.
“I’ll get you some tea.” Maes’s voice was soft and understanding.

Roy pressed his lips into a thin line and stood, alchemically ironing his uniform as he went.
“That won’t be necessary.” He caught Maes’s eyes. “Thanks.”

Thanks for always being there.

Thanks for letting him show weakness.

Thanks for not lying all those nights ago.

Even in a situation where Maes couldn’t tell the truth, he didn’t lie. Not to Roy.

The Colonel gripped his best friend’s shoulder reassuringly, then walked past. Maes followed
him back down the steps, a comfortable silence between them.

Their lives were constantly changing. From school to war to politics, they had each other’s
backs. They were the only people who knew absolutely everything about each other. As Roy
nodded to his closest friend and stepped out of the house, he realized something important.

Maes was Roy’s Alphonse.

Edward had always been equated with Roy’s Gracia, but maybe it was time for Roy to be that
for Ed instead. It was time their circles of trust branched out, if only one more person.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy did everything normally. Edward’s absence wasn’t technically an issue as the blonde
rarely attended class anyway, but it was glaring distraction to Roy. By the time he finally got
to Armstrong’s class—the last class of the day—his pretend patience had worn thin. It was
only through years of political maneuvering that his public persona stayed intact.

Armstrong pulled Roy to the side with an overly friendly arm around his shoulders. Once the
hall cleared and the door to the classroom shut, he moved out of Roy’s personal space.

“Is it true?”

News in the military traveled fast. Roy taking credit for the discovery of a chimera in Central
—one taken out by the Alchemist of the People no less—was no exception. It not only upped
Roy’s political agenda, making him seem more competent, it brought Edward and Roy’s
relationship into question.

Roy’s love of beautiful people wasn’t a secret by any means. Edward’s dislike of all things
military (and more specifically Roy) made their connection more questionable. Those in
Roy’s circle would love to be able to write it off as a fling. A romantic relationship was
fragile. Messy. Easy to slander.
Fullmetal didn’t like Roy though. If not a romantic relationship, then the Flame Alchemist
may have somehow convinced Edward to join with him politically. A politically active
Fullmetal was far more dangerous than a love-struck one. Edward wasn’t going to get
attention for his Core, but an unknown relationship with Roy would grant him nearly as
much.

“Depends on what you’ve heard.”

“Edward, he—is he alright?”

Armstrong was sincerely concerned. Roy thought back to Edward’s missing arm and bruised,
bloody figure. “He’ll be fine.”

They were both military men. They knew how to read between the lines. With a long stare
and a decisive nod, Armstrong turned and strode into the classroom. Roy followed a moment
later, stopping short as Armstrong’s booming voice entered the air.

“My dear students, today is a day for learning, but by experience. Today’s class time should
be spent with your bondmates.” His arms spread wide, sparkles overflowing and shirt ripping
to expose an overly-muscled torso. “Be free, my friends, and I shall see you tomorrow!”

Roy knew that this was for him and Fullmetal. While it was (technically) sweet, he really
wished Armstrong had consulted him first. Roy didn’t want anything getting out that would
put Edward in a precarious position. That, and Roy had no intention of going home
regardless. Edward was vulnerable, and they weren’t close enough for Roy to witness that
yet.

Namae stared at Edward’s seat, then black glasses turned to Roy. Namae’s expression didn’t
change. Neither did Roy’s. The challenge was clear. Sheska ended their unspoken dispute by
walking over to Namae and stuttering out that they should probably go.

Envy sauntered past Roy with a sneer but said nothing. Roy took a moment to feel sorry for
Russell, who’d ended up with Envy for much the same reason Namae had gotten Sheska:
connections (or in this case resemblances) to Edward.

Before, Roy had scoffed at the thought of Envy bonding with Edward because he didn’t see
how their personalities could possibly align. Now he knew the truth. Their personalities could
be perfect, and it would still be useless. Activation Wind and Energy Fire just didn’t mix.

Roy turned and exited the room only to be flanked on both sides by Russell and Gerard.

“How’s Elric taking the news?” Russell’s smile and tone were both haughty and playful, as
though sharing an inside joke. Both Roy and Gerard’s brows rose. Martel, who Gerard had
paired with, went in the opposite direction, probably with plans to meet up later.

Gerard, somewhat like Roy, had his own group of followers: Martel, Roa, and Dolcetto. Why
he stuck with Roy through this class was a mystery, though a large part of the Colonel
attributed it to the amusement factor. Gerard was just as dominant—just as much of a leader
—as Roy, and he cared just as much for his makeshift unit.
The difference was that he was more of a chaotic neutral. Where Roy planned, calculated,
and had clear goals, Gerard was a free spirit. He did things because they seemed like a good
idea at the time or because he felt like it. If something enticed him, he jumped into the fray
after it, consequences be damned.

Fullmetal didn’t call him Greeling for nothing.

Russell clarified, “I meant about Fullmetal actually being in town. Chimera attacks aren’t
exactly normal around here, and the Alchemist of the People showing up out of the blue to
take it out only makes it more of an event. It’s hard for him to pretend he’s a famous
alchemist when that same alchemist makes an appearance, you know?”

Russell looked less sure than before, likely not wanting to fall further from Roy’s graces after
failing to get picked for the bonding exercise. Gerard’s lips quirked in amusement as he
pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. Roy kept his expression mostly neutral with a sliver
of understanding.

“I call him Fullmetal because he is Fullmetal, Russell.”

It was the first time that Roy had felt the need to correct Russell’s assumption, but frankly, he
was getting tired of the constant jabs against Edward. Fullmetal’s life was hard enough
without constant, contemptuous attacks on his person.

Well, it was partially that and partially because the more he got to know Edward, the more
protective he became. Gerard paid more attention to this information, his usual, uncaring
demeanor toppled by interest in Roy’s sudden change of heart.

“Oh.”

It was clear that Russell wasn’t entirely sure he believed what Roy was saying, but he held
Roy in such high regard that he didn’t want to offend, either. Russell was smart. He couldn’t
read Roy like Edward could, but he knew there was an underlying reason Edward had been
chosen instead of him. He knew that as much attention as he did get from Roy, it wasn’t as
much as Edward. His current position at the Colonel’s side was entirely situational.

Fullmetal took priority over Russell, and as much as the younger blonde didn’t want to admit
it, he knew that.

Gerard asked, “So, he really took out a chimera?”

Roy glanced over to see charcoal grey eyes peering over round sunglasses. The question was
superficial. He’d seen that particular look in Gerard’s eyes before and knew that the man’s
attention had been caught in the steel grip of his often-single-minded nature.

It’d been caught by Edward Elric.

Even without knowledge of Gerard’s mannerisms, Roy knew for a fact that Gerard had
always believed Edward was the Fullmetal Alchemist. He would also have near immediate
access to the more classified information from last night.
Gerard had six siblings, all ranging in age and occupation. After meeting Envy, Edward had
taken the liberty of nicknaming the rest of the Homunculi siblings after the seven deadly sins.
Edward hadn’t met three of the siblings (that Roy knew of) to name them, which left Sloth,
Wrath, and Gluttony up for grabs.

Pride belonged to the reason that Gerard could get whatever information he wanted: Führer
King Bradley. Gerard was too independent, too much of a wild card for Bradley to keep
under his thumb, but the Führer wouldn’t risk publicly disowning his brother, either. That
allowed Gerard to drop Bradley’s name for otherwise unobtainable connections. At the same
time, the two men had little to no contact with each other.

According to all the information Roy had been able to gather, they just didn’t get along.

Roy gave Gerard a polite, that’s-classified-information smile, and Gerard offered a wolfish
grin in return. Roy could only hope what he was seeing wouldn’t develop into the
same interest that he, himself held for Fullmetal.

Not that anything could come of it even if it did, thanks to Edward’s Core. Still, the less
competition, the better.

“There’s going to be a press conference later this afternoon. You’re free to attend if you’re
really that curious.” Roy smiled a fraction wider, almost overly polite. While he and Gerard
spent a fair amount of time together in class, they couldn’t be considered friends. Gerard
liked—if it could even be called that—Roy for his power and control. He could respect Roy’s
ability to get what he wanted no matter the circumstances. And the way that Roy went about
getting what he wanted was so different from Gerard’s own style that he probably found
Roy’s general personality attention-grabbing.

It certainly didn’t hurt that the Colonel was more than at-odds with Bradley.

Roy left it at that and, with a wave, departed from his classmates. He would head to his office
until the conference, then back to his office after that. Maybe he would stay there overnight.

Regardless of what Roy should do, he was tempted to go home. Connecting nerves to
automail couldn’t be comfortable, and with their partial bond, Roy’s presence would ease that
pain. After everything Edward had gone through for Roy, it was the least the Colonel could
do. Yet, the least he could do was also to pretend he didn’t know and allow Edward the pride
of suffering out of sight.

Fullmetal always had to make things complicated.

“How’s the chief doing?”

As soon as Roy entered the office, Breda asked about Edward. He had taken a liking to the
blonde after Edward had gone off on Roy, and it showed. Everyone in Roy’s unit had been
thoroughly amused, of course, but more than that, they were surprised Roy hadn’t incinerated
Edward on the spot. Or taken him down politically. Or crushed his ego. Any action that
would leave Edward scarred against ever defying Roy again.
Roy had let Edward walk out unscathed and, though they didn’t know it, even apologized for
his actions. He hadn’t planned revenge. That, more than anything, let them know Edward was
special. Roy’s unit acted as a makeshift family, and this was as good as extending Edward an
invitation. If Roy cared about Edward, his men would care about Edward by proxy.

“He’s fine.” Roy didn’t give any particulars because he didn’t know any particulars.

Havoc’s cigarette tilted downwards. “How fine? The report said he was pretty roughed up.”
Havoc had taken a liking to Edward as well, but it seemed more like he looked up to the
Major than anything else.

Roy tilted his head back to look down his nose at his friend and colleague. “Don’t you have
other things to worry about? Like getting a date to the ball?” He raised both brows,
purposefully condescending. While Roy couldn’t be classified as an actual narcissist, he was
arrogant enough in many fields to come close. His physical appearance—his ability to attract
partners—was one of those fields.

Havoc was the opposite. His luck with the ladies was infamously bad, and he was always
begging Roy to go on a double date with him. Roy could charm both their dates into staying
no matter how clumsily Havoc handled the situation. What Havoc didn’t take into account
was the likelihood that Roy would end up having a threesome. Or at least, that Roy would’ve
previously ended up having a threesome. Now he was not only monogamous, he was
fucking abstinent.

Oh, how his knight would laugh if he knew.

Havoc stared for a long moment, irritation and embarrassment fighting in his eyes. Then his
demeanor switched to something that mimicked Roy’s, lips stretching into a grin. “Same
could be said for you. It doesn’t look like Fullmetal’s going to agree to go, especially not with
you.”

Roy didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, he’ll be at the ball, but you’re right. Not with me. I’m going
with Ariel.”

Roy watched as Havoc dropped his Roy-like persona, cigarette going limp in his mouth.
Havoc had begged Roy to set him up with Ariel once their fling had ended. (“Ended” in the
sense of them not being exclusive or claiming any emotional connection. They still slept
together on occasion.)

Deciding the battle won, Roy turned to Falman. “The lab report?”

“Already on your desk.” Falman offered a gentle smile that put far too many people off-
guard.

Roy nodded. “Whatever they found, I want more. Get in touch with the lab and report back
with any theories or information they may have kept to themselves. Breda, take Fuery and go
back to the scene. See if the clean-up crew missed anything. Talk to everyone who lives in
the area. See if there are any witnesses we missed. We don’t have enough information until
this is over.” He glanced at his men once more. “Havoc . . . go find a date.”
With that casual dismissal, Roy departed for his office. Havoc sputtered, but Roy’s message
had gotten across. The rest of the team was to focus on the chimera, but Havoc’s goal was the
ball. Havoc was the most trusted of Roy’s men: one of the few people privy to what, exactly,
Roy wanted to do with the position of Führer.

Roy needed to know exactly what was going on with the ball: who would be attending, who
they would bring, which press had made the cut, and, most importantly, which political
agendas would be most prevalent. Everyone had a plan for the night, and Roy needed to be
aware of them all.

Hawkeye was currently collecting intel on the layout of the building and which security
teams had been hired. There would be enough influential people in attendance to warrant
targeting, and Roy needed to know the strengths and weaknesses of their protection. Political
connections, weaponry—everything. While actual invites were regulated, bodyguards were
not. He needed to know if there was anyone on protection duty who had actual or potential
grievances with him or his men.

His team would get all information on the ball to him by the end of the day tomorrow. It was
unlikely there would be any change in plans between Friday and Saturday night, so that
would be his window to memorize and create contingency plans.

Roy sat down at his desk and picked up the report, finally back in his comfort zone. This was
about alchemy, politics, and reputations. This he could do.

The chimera DNA was made up of a mix of wolf, tiger, horse, and human. Normally, how
powerful and violent the animals were contributed to how volatile the chimera would be, but
Roy specialized in experimental theory and biological alchemy.

Roy may not have known the ins-and-outs of creating general circles, but he could do
specifics.

The amount of knowledge and experimentation it would take to make a chimera with this
many components, however, was more in Fullmetal’s range of alchemic intelligence than
Roy’s. That greatly narrowed the amount of people who could have created—or at least had
to be involved in creating—the chimera. It didn’t necessarily mean the creator had to be a
genius, but they were incredibly knowledgeable about trans-mutational alchemy.

That made things more complicated. More dangerous.

If they—when they got into a fight, it wouldn’t be snap-and-thank-god-it’s-over. There would

be alchemic counters that only Roy’s field experience would help him live through and
maneuvers that he had only practiced before. There would be more chimeras.

This one had taken a major toll on Edward, who was no pushover, and Roy was willing to bet
that it’d been released into the world only after repeated testing.

This wasn’t an amateur fooling around with the thought of creating life. This was a master
who had only just decided to make themselves known. The political perks of taking out the
chimeras and their creator(s) would be magnanimous. The lives that would be lost or ruined
if he failed to do so would—

“He told us to run. Brother’s out there alone, and I—Please. We have to go! Please!”

Edward. Fullmetal would try and face this head-on with little to no thought as to what could
occur should they overpower him. He wouldn’t let this injustice stand or any more innocent
lives be put at risk. He would rush forward and, should his devil’s luck fail him, likely be
killed. The power of this chimera alone—the damage it did—was enough to warrant that
belief.

Roy focused on the lab report, continuing to read despite the horrifying knowledge he would
sleep better without.

It had human DNA.

The stronger a Core was and the more alchemic ability a person had, the better a chimera
would stay together. The stronger it would be. If Edward was captured instead of killed—

If Edward was captured—

Roy clenched his eyes shut to get a handle on the sheer number of images flashing through
his mind. When he reopened them, he once again focused on the report, albeit a different
part.

Why the fuck did Edward have to have such a strong Core? Such a rare Core? If the enemy
found out about it and Edward couldn’t win, becoming a casualty of the battle would be
lucky.

While Fire Cores didn’t work better for a human transmutation than other Cores, their holders
tended to have more alchemic prowess.

In truth, there wasn’t much reason beyond societal to want a Fire Core. Activation Fire Core
holders had an easier time bonding and generally had a knack for alchemy, but they weren’t
that much better off in the long run. Energy Fire Core holders—well, if not for their political
power, no one would ever want to be one. They had an incredibly hard time bonding, didn’t
generally have very strong Cores, and had an even slighter natural talent for alchemy than
Activation Fire Core holders.

Edward just had to be the exception to two of those generalizations. It frustrated Roy to no
end that Fullmetal had to be so naturally odd. What Core a person got, if he or she got one,
was completely random. There was no genetic, environmental, or any other factor found to
reliably influence Core inheritance. The same could be said for whether or not a person got
an Activation or Energy Core.

Activation Cores were overall more desirable than Energy Cores. Activation Core holders
chose when to bond and who to bond with while Energy Core holders had no choice in the
matter. Activation Core holders were allotted a natural talent for controlling (to some extent)
the element affiliated with their Core without the use of alchemy.
Energy Cores were known to be able to do this only on occasion and only if the Core was
extremely strong. Some theories proclaimed Energy Cores only existed for the purpose of
bonding to and strengthening Activation Cores.

Whatever their purpose, there was a certain entrancement with rare Cores and, like any other
subject, strong ones. Edward, with his molten gold eyes and endless defiance, would be
considered the perfect addition to any chimera. Roy would sooner watch the world burn than
see that happen.

He would sooner burn it down himself.

For now, though, he would bide his time and gather more information. Only fools rushed into
battle headfirst. Fools and Edward, which made the matter of figuring out what they were
getting into all the more pressing. Roy would funnel as many resources as possible into
ending this chimera ordeal swiftly, and Edward—Edward would be fine.

Winry was the leading specialist on automail, and she would do anything for Fullmetal. That
coupled with the fact that she was determined to go to the ball meant he would probably be
fixed up before Saturday. As long as Roy could keep trouble away from him until then, he
could rest easy.

Or at least easier.

Even once this chimera problem blew over, he would have to continue with his rise to Führer
and, on a Fullmetal related note, make Edward fall in love with him without them ever
touching. Roy tangled his fingers in thick, soft locks as he once again took in the fact that
Edward had the worst fucking Core imaginable.

He would gladly give up all the power, prestige, and political prowess of bonding with an
Energy Fire Core if it would allow him to closer to Fullmetal. Edward, well, there was a high
probability that he would gladly give them up, too.

Roy skimmed over the papers stating how awfully outmatched Edward—who
always insisted on going at things alone—might be one more time before moving on. There
wasn’t enough information to do anything, so there wasn’t a reason to keep focusing on it.

Roy closed the file and put it at the edge of his desk. He picked up a different stack of papers,
meaning to read those instead, but his body didn’t listen to his brain, and his eyes skipped
back to the chimera file. He moved the file from his desk edge to the bottom left drawer. Out
of sight. When his mind still wandered over to the picture of the chimera corpse and the
memory of Edward’s bruised and bloody figure, he decided other work could be done.

He grabbed his coat and strolled out of the room. The press conference was in a few hours,
and he wanted to do some research first. What Edward had taught him about creating
transmutation circles would help, but he still needed to know as much as he could about
chimeras. Whatever information he had now wasn’t enough.

And if he happened to run across information on Energy Fire Cores or partial bonding, he
certainly wouldn’t complain.
The State Alchemist’s library wasn’t a place Roy visited often. He had plenty of books in his
home, and any books he didn’t have, he could get discreetly delivered. Now though, he didn’t
need any evidence that he'd been anywhere near these books. At least, not the Core-related
ones. He walked casually through the magnificent building, rows and rows of books towering
over him, until he found himself in a rarely visited section—one on Cores.

The books on chimeras would come after this little adventure, as he wanted to be seen
leaving with them. They were also located in a restricted section, where entering would make
his presence known to more than just the library staff. He would only take a book or two,
though multiple others would be noted. He needed the public to believe this
was extra research. That he was already aware of the situation and had a solid plan.

He scanned the titles, searching for anything specifically pertaining to Energy Fire Cores or
partial bonding. He found three books. The edges of his lips tugged downward. He had seen
two of these with Edward before. The third was well-worn enough that Roy would bet
Edward had already read it. Multiple times. Hell, Edward had probably read the entire
section.

Staring at the three books, Roy wondered what all Edward had gone through in his life. He
wondered just how many trials had bombarded the man and tried to imagine Fullmetal ever
actually breaking down under the pressure of it all.

One day, he swore he would know for sure. It didn’t matter if Edward sat down and told him
everything, from beginning to end, or if it would come in bits and pieces. Maybe they would
be lying in bed, teetering on the edge of sleep, or sitting in the living room, pouring over
books, and Edward would start a story. Maybe only part of a story. Roy would take whatever
the Major was willing to give, and it would continue that way until he knew everything.

One day, Roy would do the same. Edward would learn things about him that not even Maes
knew and, with his thirst for knowledge, he would want to know.

Roy slid to the floor, for once not a rising Führer but a simple man, unsure of his future or if
he could, in all reality, achieve his goals. The first book’s index directed Roy to page one-
hundred-nine.

Energy Fire Cores are the rarest Core currently known. They’re also the weakest. Of all
known Cores, this type shows the least alchemic prowess, often times lacking the ability to
perform alchemy in its slightest form. The Cores, at least for their owner’s alchemy-related
purposes, are largely considered useless. For an Activation Fire Core holder, the opposite is
true.

When Activation and Energy Fire Cores bond, the Activation Fire Core’s energy is funneled
through the Energy Fire Core, enhancing the original energy source by unpredictable
amounts. For the same reason, no other Core can bond with an Energy Fire Core. They
cannot survive the funneling portion of the bonding process.

To attempt to bond with an Energy Fire Core without an Activation Fire Core would be both
self-destructive and useless, as the Energy Fire Core is the only known Core with the ability
to reject an Activation Core’s request to bond. At the same time, if the proper Activation Core
makes the request, the Energy Fire Core is even swifter to respond with a bond than most.

As a consequence of the rarity of Energy Fire Cores, not much is known about them. There is
no particular ethnicity or area of the world from which they primarily spawn. They tend to,
for unknown reasons, become stronger alchemists or even gain the ability to perform
alchemy upon bonding. Unlike other Core types, Energy Fire Cores are unable to break a
bond once it is formed. It will not weaken and cannot be alchemically broken.

Roy paused, unsure if the same went for partial bonds. Should the answer not come up in one
of these books, he would say the same thought was probably plaguing Edward.

The answer turned out not to be in that book or the next one or the one after that. He was only
skimming, but Roy had gotten very, very good at picking out important details over the years.
There was surprisingly little known about Energy Fire Cores—something which frustrated
Roy to no end—and an equally limited vault of information existed on partial bonding.

Most of the time, a partial bond occurred because the Core holders were incompatible. It was
always on the side of the Energy Core. No recorded partial bonds involved an Energy Fire
Core. The effects of partial bonds ranged from being mildly irritating to leaving the person
bedridden. Some of the bonds went away with time; some stayed until another bond replaced
it. It seemed to depend on the strength of the Activation Core.

With how strong Roy’s Core was before his inheritance, he doubted Edward’s partial bond
would fall under the former. The only thing all partial bonds had in common was the
incredible pain that accompanied ending the bonding process without completion.

In other words, the books told him nothing helpful.

He placed them back on the shelves exactly as he’d found them before moving toward the
restricted section. He meandered through three other sections first, wasting well over ten
minutes just throwing off the scent should anyone be watching.

When he flashed his identification, he could feel their curiosity. When he strode purposefully
towards the section dealing with chimeras, he could hear the whispering. People who
lingered outside the restricted section thirsted for this kind of gossip. They would be there to
see him leave with books, too.

Within the restricted section, things were much quieter. No one batted an eye at his entrance.
Or rather, they were expecting him. Something Roy hadn’t anticipated was that he already
had seven of the more promising books sitting in his library, courtesy of Fullmetal.

It’d previously occurred to him that many of the books Edward owned pertained to chimeras,
but he hadn’t thought they would overlap so heavily with those in the restricted section. That
also raised the question of what Edward’s other books on chimeras were. Fullmetal clearly
had high standards for the books he allowed into his possession. There was a possibility that
the remaining books had material even more dangerous—even more useful—than the ones
here.
 Roy picked up two books that both seemed favorable and didn’t belong to Edward, then
turned to leave. He would delve into them and hopefully the ones Fullmetal owned after the
press conference. So long as Roy stayed either in his room or the living room and gave the
Elric family their space, it should be fine.

As he expected, reporters were awaiting him as he left the library. Questions filled the air so
quickly that Roy could scarcely hear anything else. He picked out bits and pieces of what
they wanted to know—all questions about the chimera attack and the upcoming dance—but
everyone was talking over each other. He flashed a charming smile while holding up a hand
for silence, then indiscreetly adjusted the books at his side.

“As I’m sure you all know, there will be a press conference in less than an hour. I’ll be able to
answer all of your questions there.” He could answer a few now and get in extra publicity, but
. . . “For now, though, there’s work to be done. My unit and I do our best not to waste a single
minute, lest our beautiful city receive less protection than it deserves.”

Turning down a free press conference could give him more publicity than having it would.

The questions started firing again almost immediately. Roy kept his smile firmly in place and
made his way through the crowd. The harsh world of politics offered the knowledge that this
wasn’t about the chimera attack. Not really. It wasn’t even about the ball. This was about
Roy’s stance as a competitor for the position of Führer.

With how much else was at stake here, Roy could fully understand Fullmetal’s hatred for
politics. At the same time, this was Roy’s world. He thrived in the cutthroat, self-centered,
uncaring environment, and one day, he was going to make it better.

They stared after him, and that was the right idea. Just ask Fullmetal. If nothing else, Roy
could put on a show.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed woke up wishing he were stronger. Even with two arms, he’d barely been able to fend off
the chimera. Maybe if he’d been smarter about it, he would’ve used long-range alchemy
instead of his usual hand-to-hand. Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to him to leave his
comfort zone while facing such a physically gifted opponent.

Logically, he knew he had done well. The chimera was dead, Mustang got all the credit he
could handle, and Al and Winry were safe.

But what if there had been two?

What if, while he’d been struggling with this chimera, another one had attacked Winry and
his brother? Even if the second one had waited, could he have protected them in the state he
was in post-battle?

He doubted it.

“Fullmetal?”

Ed turned his head to stare at the closed door, never more thankful for Mustang’s superficial
politeness. “What?”

“May I come in?”

If it were anyone but Mustang, Ed would think he sounded timid. Ed glanced at his lack-of-
arm, thoughts bland. He would have a harder time living with himself knowing he was a
coward than knowing Mustang pitied him.

“Do what you want.”

Ed sat up as Mustang entered. They both pretended not to notice the way obsidian eyes swept
over Ed’s mangled shoulder. Mustang had a few books and notepads in his arms, and he
didn’t hesitate to move Ed’s books off of the bedside table to make room for them. He pulled
up a chair directly afterward. Ed only had to glance at the titles to realize what this was about.

“Fucking seriously, Mustang? You couldn’t even wait until I have two arms to make me track
down the rest of your chimeras? Damn military—”

“I don’t want you going near the other chimeras. I sent Al and Winry out to eat and collect
whatever else they need for the ball.” Ed opened his mouth to protest them going out on their
own when Mustang continued, “Havoc is with them. They only agreed to go because I
assured them I wouldn’t approach you unless you asked.”

“Doin’ a real bang-up job there, aren’t you?”

“They never would have left if I’d told them I intended to grill you for information on
chimeras, would they?” Ed had nothing to say to that, so Mustang took out his notepad and
pen. “I’m not asking you to help catch them. In fact, if you see one, I’d like you to turn in the
opposite direction and run as fast as you can. I doubt you will, but it’s what I would like.”
Mustang shot him a look.

Ed scowled. “Well, what the hell do you want then?”

“Tell me everything you know about chimeras. The faster I get reliable information, the faster
I can end this, and the safer everyone will be.”

They took a full minute to stare each other down. Ed gnawed on the inside of his cheek
before finally asking, “So you really don’t want my help hunting them?”

“Believe it or not, I didn’t get to where I am today on good looks alone.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s that stunning personality of yours, right?”

Mustang’s lips quirked bitterly upward. “Something like that.”

Ed nodded once, as familiar with the self-loathing in Mustang’s smile as he was with his own
reflection, and recounted everything he knew about chimeras. When Al returned, all but
growling at Mustang’s intrusion, Ed waved him off. Winry glanced worriedly between them
but chose to slip by and finish Ed’s arm. Mustang dutifully wrote down every word, not
seeming the least bit bothered by Al’s intimidation tactics.

The last story Ed told was the hardest, but it was too important to leave out.

“ . . . but you can’t overlook family members, either. If someone goes missing—if there’s a
human chimera—you have to take into account that the person might not have been
kidnapped.” Ed paused and turned his eyes to the ceiling as Winry made sure the dimensions
of his new arm matched his shoulder. “There was this little girl. Sweetest kid you’d ever
meet. Maybe even sweeter than Elicia. And she had a dog.”

Al tensed, casting his eyes to the floor.

“It was a stupidly big, fluffy dog that loved just as unheedingly as the little girl. You’d think,
anyone who could hurt this little girl and her fluff-ball dog has to be a monster. They would
have to be so heinous that you would feel their evil bearing down on you long before you saw
them. Only it wasn’t.” Ed slowed his breathing and blinked, feeling the urge to cry even after
all this time. “It was her dad.”

“Brother . . .”

“I’m ready to put your arm back on, Ed. Why don’t we put off the rest of this session for
later? We even brought food back for you. You know, for after the surgery.”

Ed nodded, ready to be done with remembering things, and moved to stand. Mustang had
allowed them to turn his study room into a temporary surgical station, so they would head
there to make him whole again.
“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

And he would. As much as he disliked Mustang as a person, Mustang as a military official

wasn’t so bad. Or maybe it was the other way around. Ed didn’t much care to figure it out.
All he knew was that one of Mustang’s personas genuinely didn’t want him involved in this
chimera business, and that felt good. Well, it felt good as long as he could stop himself from
looking into Mustang’s motives.

“That manipulating, conniving, dirty . . . dirt-bag!” Al started ranting almost before the door
to Mustang’s study closed. “I knew he was plotting something the second he offered to pay
for our expenses. But no—no, I couldn’t just go with my gut. I had to be nice and give him
the benefit of the doubt. I’m so stupid! He said he wouldn’t go near your room and idiot-me
actually believed him. Ugh!”

Light laughter skipped out of Ed’s mouth, and Al looked torn between anger, confusion, and
fondness. “Not that I’m complaining about your new Mustang-hating agenda, but aren’t you
the one who told me to give him a chance when this whole living together thing started?”
Ed’s grin widened as the tips of Al’s ears turned red.

“Yeah, but . . . That was different, okay? If he hadn’t kept us at the house, we could’ve gone
back and helped you out. Then maybe you’d still have both your arms. I can’t trust a guy
who’ll sit back and relax while you’re out there fighting.”

Ed knew by the way Al scrunched his lips to the side that he was doing his lying-but-not-
lying trick. He was distracted, however, by the new information. “He made you stay here?”

“Yeah.” Winry chimed in, happy to have a part in the brothers’ conversation. “He even
threatened to physically restrain us when Al wouldn’t settle down. He was all like, ‘If you
think I don’t have the force necessary to keep you here until word of your brother arrives,
you’re mistaken.’ And while what he said might not sound all that threatening, the tone was
fierce.” Her smile turned teasing. “Al would’ve challenged him, but he was too scared.”

Al’s cheeks lit up as brightly as his ears. He turned to Winry. “I wasn’t scared. I could’ve
taken him. I just didn’t want to make more trouble than necessary for Brother, and I knew he
could handle himself without us.”

Though Al’s voice hitched up a little, he was telling the truth. At least, mostly. He had
probably felt more than a little apprehension about going up against the famous Flame
Alchemist. At the same time, if he’d felt that Ed really, truly needed him, he would’ve pushed
back against Mustang’s threat.

Ed grinned. “No worries, Al. I’m glad you stayed back. Besides, your big brother can handle
anything.”

Ed gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Winry’s giggling re-alerted them to the shifting metal in
her arms. Al’s smile faded some, but Ed’s only got toothier.

Yeah, he had moments where he hated himself—where he looked in the mirror and all he
could see was his mangled body—but this wasn’t one of them. Right now, he was Edward
Elric, older brother of Alphonse Elric and best friend of Winry Rockbell, and he was loved.

That was the best time to go into a painful surgery, in Ed’s opinion.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy closed his eyes and listened to the overwhelming silence of his office. He had left home
shortly after the screams began. They were muffled, clearly being bitten back, and he could
only wonder over the extent of the pain. What would it take to make such a strong man
scream so loudly for so long?

At least, Roy assumed it continued for an extended period. It’d only taken him a handful of
minutes to gather everything he needed and leave.

All he really knew was that his respect for Winry had grown exponentially. Roy wasn’t sure
how well he would handle having to inflict so much pain on Edward, no matter how much
good it would do. Of course, if he were in the study, holding Edward’s hand, maybe the pain
wouldn’t be so unbearable.

Except then Edward would know that Roy knew and run in the opposite direction. Most
likely cursing Roy’s name and assumed intentions as he went.

For a moment, Roy had considered staying at the house and working there, but only a
moment. It was a stupid idea. He wouldn’t get anywhere near as much work done. Thoughts
of playing a role by Edward’s side would be too tempting.

What if, after the surgery, Edward walked by him to get something to eat and their shoulders
brushed? What if Edward would want to use him to lessen the pain? Roy couldn’t approach
him and offer, but if Edward chose to use him, that was a different story. It was a miniscule
chance, but if Fullmetal had a moment of weakness, Roy wanted to be there for it.

Which was exactly why he left.

Roy had delusions neither over his current place in Edward’s life nor what would happen if
they became closer via physical contact. No matter how real it was, Edward would run. Over
and over again, ever since Edward’s secrets had come to light, Roy repeated that to himself.
Because if Edward ran, there would be no catching him.

This was a game of Stop and Go. Roy had to know exactly where the lines in the sand were
drawn and when to cross, or it would all be over. For now, Edward didn’t want less pain. He
wanted trust.

That, in all honesty, was another big problem. Trusting was hard. Trusting Roy was harder.

Anyone could believe that Roy would do his best to keep people safe, but manipulation came
with the job. Roy would string along the cast in the most believable way possible, and no one
could expect to get a script every single time. Even Maes was left in the dark every now and
again. More often than not, if one included the times that Roy had simply trusted his best
friend to catch on.

Roy frowned. Thinking about it wouldn’t help. Even if he figured out some brilliant new
strategy for wooing Edward, he couldn’t use it. What Roy needed to do was focus on
something more pertinent. The chimera case, for example. Or even the ball. It was less than
twenty-four hours away, and he still hadn’t called Ariel to set the details.

Considering how well the press conference over his chimera dealings and apparent alliance
with the Fullmetal Alchemist had gone, his performance at the ball would carry more weight
than ever. Of course, that, too, depended on Edward. The most likely outcome involved
Fullmetal doing his best to avoid anything and everything political and the ball proceeding
the same as any other ball.

There was a small chance, however, that Edward would be wrangled into a conversation and
say whatever popped into his head, most likely trashing Roy’s reputation in the process. The
Alchemist of the People might not have as much sway as he’d had two years ago, but he was
still dangerous. A genuinely bad review from him could easily set Roy back another election.

It was a small chance because while Edward didn’t like military officials as a general rule, he
rarely outright targeted someone in his rants. Then again, no one else had dragged his family
into possible danger without his permission, uprooted his life, continuously manipulated him,
forced him to be at the ball in the first place, took credit for his actions, and accidentally
partially bonded them together.

Really, the only way Edward going to the ball might have worked in his favor was if the
blonde alchemist hadn’t caught on to his scheme in the first place. Then Roy could’ve used
their class connection and his family’s presence to get Edward to agree to be his date.

Now though, a neutral outcome was the best he could hope for.

Well, neutral and maybe catching Ed ogling him again. The obvious attraction always made
Roy feel a little better, even if he couldn’t use it. And Roy’s eyes would certainly be
wandering, too. He had never seen the elder Elric in anything other than casual clothes, and
he was looking forward to seeing the man in something more elegant.

While he couldn’t imagine Edward looking bad in anything, the blonde’s natural
awkwardness would surely shine through. He would feel uncomfortable in something so
formal and unsure of how to move in anything remotely restricting. He would be
embarrassed, though only for a bit, and have an intense determination not to show it. He’d
probably spend the entire night pouting, except for his dances with Elicia, and bare his
canines every time his eyes met Roy’s.

Fullmetal would be the star of the ball for a bit, if only because he had never before attended
despite numerous invitations, but only Roy would feel the need to keep staring once the
novelty wore off. Only he would be continuously entranced by Edward’s innocence and brash
honesty.
As Roy dialed Ariel’s number, he found himself thankful that she had only ever seen them as
sex friends. There was no way she could spend an entire night by his side and remain
ignorant of his interest. A jealous date was the last thing he needed.

“Hello?”

“I swear your voice gets lovelier each time I hear it.” Roy smiled as Ariel giggled, glad to
have his focus redirected onto someone who actually found his charms charming.

“Is this your way of apologizing for leaving me in suspense for so long? I had to pick out my
dress all by my lonesome.”

“You talk as though there’s a dress in existence that wouldn’t look exquisite on you.”

She giggled again. Roy purposefully swiveled his chair so he couldn’t see the files decorating
his desk.

“Oh, Roy. While I appreciate the compliments, there’s no need to feel bad about the delay.
After what happened with the chimera, I almost expected just to meet you at the ball. You
must be swamped with work.”

“No worse than to be expected this time of year, and nothing requiring my focus tomorrow
night.”

At that, she outright laughed. “Really now? And here I thought you’d invited me for my
excellent political and personal skills.”

Roy chuckled, too. A chuckle that, on a less stressful evening, might even have been real.
“You’re also physically stunning.”

“Oh, Roy. Save that for after the ball, would you?”

Roy didn’t bother to tell her that they wouldn’t be rendezvousing at her place at the end of the
night. He could break that news tomorrow. “I assume six is still alright with you?”

“Of course. And the restaurant is—”

“A surprise.”

Ariel didn’t want to be dominated, but she liked a man who knew how to take control.

“I look forward to it. Oh, and Roy?”

Roy allotted her a questioning hum.

“My dress is a golden, sunset orange.” She proceeded to hang up without a proper goodbye,
most likely to leave an enticing, teasing impression.

He swiveled back to the numerous papers, folders, and books that still needed to be sorted
through, then got to work. Fullmetal had spelled out a basic profile of what to look for, and it
wasn’t pleasant.

“Odd as it may seem, the people who create chimeras usually fall into two easy categories.
They’re either ripping through the process, wanting to create as many as they can, or they’re
slow and scientific about it. The first ones are the easiest. They’re the crazies at the edge of
town, and you can just about always find at least a couple people willing to point a finger in
the right direction. The other category, which is way more likely in this situation, fucking
sucks.

“It’s made up of the power-players. Assholes who think they’re so far above everyone else
that they physically need people under them. They’re usually the higher-ups and, especially
in this town, military officials. With how advanced the chimeras are and considering this is
the first one you’ve seen, I would wager the creator is someone you’re going to have a rough
time pinning down.”

If Edward was right, and Roy had the sinking feeling he was, the more he looked into this,
the more dangerous it would become. Should the perpetrator be in the military—especially
higher up in the military than Roy, himself—investigating this was the same as painting a
target on his back.

And the ball—It was a good thing he’d talked to Edward when he did. Otherwise, he may not
have changed “minimal detail” to “it’s confidential” and there was no telling who would’ve
been accidentally alerted.

What he did know was that the animals used in the chimera they’d found weren’t household
pets. If it really was a military or government official, there would be records of these
animals being bought or transferred. Maybe not paper trails, but someone would know.
Someone would remember.

Contrary to most people thought, the first step in an investigation wasn’t who bought an
illegal item, but who sold it. What beasts had gone missing or experienced sudden deaths,
and what masters came into an unexplained amount of money?

Roy had always liked puzzles, and he spent the next few hours diligently working on this
one. Whether his work brought him any closer to the correct answer remained unseen. All he
could say for sure was that by the time he reached his house again, he was tired. Incredibly
so. The day ahead of him wasn’t looking any shorter, either.

Despite that, seeing Fullmetal writing something in the kitchen made him hesitate.

“I see the surgery went well.”

Edward didn’t look up. His pen never stopped moving. “Yeah. Soreness should fade in the
next couple days, and I’ll be good as new.”

Though the news was positive, Edward didn’t seem pleased. Not that he seemed displeased,
per se. Just mellow. Off-put.
Roy walked closer to see an unexpectedly accurate sketch of what the chimera must’ve
looked like before Fullmetal had gotten a hold of it. That was what he’d probably meant to
draw, anyhow. All Roy saw was the monster Edward would be turned into should Roy be
unable to protect him.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you dealing with the chimera case.”

“Problem with authority, remember?”

“Then not as an authority.” Edward met Roy’s eyes, openly skeptic. “As friends.”

Blonde brows rose, and Roy wholeheartedly understood Edward’s reluctance to label their
relationship as such. Yet, there was no other way to say it. Acquaintance was too menial.
Enemy was too harsh. Partner was too ambiguous. Edward and Roy didn’t exactly get along,
but if a dire situation arose, Roy trusted Fullmetal would do everything in his power to keep
them both safe. He liked to believe Edward felt the same.

In the end, Edward made no comment on their relationship status, instead turning back to his
drawing. “It definitely contained wolf and tiger DNA. The hooves and how fast it was makes
me lean toward horse, too, but I’m not sure. It was also smart. It didn’t throw blind attacks
and hope for brute force to win out.”

“We’re already checking missing person’s reports for a DNA match.”

“No use. A bastard like this isn’t going to go around snatching people with friends and
family. It’ll be the homeless and the runaways. The people with nowhere else to turn.”

“You want to go look for its creator, don’t you?”

“I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Fullmetal—” Roy was cut off by Edward loudly closing his notebook and standing to leave.
Roy followed him up the steps, quieting his voice in the hall as not to wake Alphonse or
Winry. “Fullmetal, you may be a State Alchemist, but at least until this year is up, you’re also
a civilian. It isn’t your place to get involved.”

“Then I’ll apologize in advance for the extra paperwork you’re going to have to do.”

“You can’t—”

“What are they going to do? Kick me out?” Fullmetal stopped outside his door and turned to
face Roy. “Listen Mustang, I appreciate your concern or whatever this is, but nothing has
changed. I’ve been fighting chimeras since I was a kid, and there’s always been a chance that
the sons-of-bitches would be stronger than me. There’s always been a chance that the creep
doing all this bullshit would decide to use me in the next experiment. There’s always been a
chance I’ll die.

“But there’s a higher chance that I’ll live, and the only way for me to keep living with myself
afterwards is knowing that I’ve always stood by my beliefs. Even if this happened after my
contract ran out, I’d be doing the same thing I’m doing now. The only difference is that I’d
do it without a collar around my neck.

“Whatever our reasons, we both knew that getting into this line of work could be dangerous.
All I’m asking is that you don’t downplay my choice just because it’s different from yours. I
know the risks of getting involved, probably better than you at this point. I know what I’m
doing. So cut the crap. Stop trying to protect me or show off or whatever it is you’re doing.”
Edward turned to his door, curled his fingers around the doorknob, and turned back. “You
said you like me, right? Then start acting like it. Treat me like an equal to stand by, not a
child to fucking coddle.”

Then Edward disappeared into his room, closing the door smoothly behind him.

If he’d stayed around a moment longer, he would’ve seen the raw surprise and prideful relief
overtaking Roy’s body. Roy cared for Edward, and he cared a lot. That’d clouded his
judgment.

Yes, Edward was a prime target, but he was also the Fullmetal Alchemist, and Fullmetal
had always been a prime target.

Wasn’t his capability, his resilience one of the reasons Roy liked him so much? And yet, he
had ignored that in favor of worrying. Like Edward was really just a pretty face or an oddly
smart boy. Roy had forgotten, momentarily, that Edward Elric and the Fullmetal Alchemist
were one and the same. Roy had disregarded Edward’s life work up until this point by
egotistically assuming that Roy was the only one who could be in the line of fire and come
out safely on the other side.

Edward was an ally, not a liability.

(***Intertwined***)

Ariel was beautiful. There was no denying that. Short blonde hair curled into an elegant wave
that complemented the contours of her face. Her dress was sleeveless and gold, color
modulating into a sunset orange as it worked its way to her feet. The material was soft and
flowy with just the right amount of shine and left only enough to the imagination to be
enticing. She was the perfect choice.

The burnt orange of Roy’s tie was darker than the orange of Ariel’s dress, but only just so. It
was close enough to pass off as purposeful, especially with the red transmutation circles on
his gloves taking them to the end of the color spectrum. Add that complementary style to his
custom-made, fitted suit, and Roy looked nothing less than dashing.

He couldn’t blame anyone for staring. Not when he stepped out of the car to pick her up, not
when they were eating, and certainly not when they stepped into the building to be
introduced. They were a power couple, if Roy did say so himself.
“Colonel Roy Mustang and his date, Ariel Sanderson.”

They stepped into the room, earning plenty of whispers and craning necks. Ariel held his arm
closer as they made their way down the large staircase, her gold, manicured nails wrinkling
the material of his suit jacket as she went. It looked nice for his image, but Roy hated the feel.
When he chose to be immaculate, he wanted to stay that way.

He smiled anyhow.

“Colonel! So glad you could make it!”

The Führer was the first to greet them, his usual eyepatch almost managing to look nice when
paired with his obviously expensive suit. Roy’s inner stylist cringed at the few baby hairs that
Bradley never managed to slick back, glad that he had left his own hair in its usual kempt-
yet-unkempt style.

Roy had tried slicking it back a few years ago, but the shorter hairs in his own bangs hadn’t
cooperated, and have matching hairstyles with his opponent would be a dangerous game
of Who Wore It Better.

“It’s always a pleasure. I believe you’ve met my date, Ariel?”

Ariel moved her hand delicately towards the Führer, who accepted the gesture just as
gracefully.

“Only once, but hers is not a face to forget. You’re a lucky man.”

“The luckiest.”

They both smiled, neither giving away the true nature of their relationship. The Führer
excused himself to greet other guests. Bradley had given Roy the perfect amount of attention:
enough to acknowledge Roy was competition but not so much for people to think he was
concerned about it. That left Roy with only one viable option: smile and play along, all the
while hoping his press coverage would be better than Bradley’s.

“Uncle Roy!”

Elicia ran over as soon as Bradley departed, and she’d probably only waited that long
because Maes and Gracia had made her. Ariel let go of Roy’s arm and thereby suit so he
could hug Elicia.

“Oh my! I do believe my position as prettiest girl at the ball may have just been stolen.” Ariel
grinned as she brushed a few curls behind Elicia’s ear.

Maes grinned in a way only a proud father could. “She is the most beautiful girl here, isn’t
she? She picked that dress out all by herself you know, and isn’t it just perfect? Not too flashy
and not too old-fashioned. Though she would look just darling in a princess dress, don’t you
think? Or something with a bonnet?”

Gracia shushed him as she retrieved Elicia from Roy’s arms. “I think you look lovely, Ariel.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. Though I have nothing on you and your beautiful family.”

They shared a smile, and the night went on. Roy’s entire unit arrived within half an hour of
his own entrance, none of them alone. Though Roy assumed Havoc had only scored a date
through the prestige and impossible-to-get invitations of the ball. The voluptuous brunette he
had on his arm was, after all, more than a little out of his league.

They gathered and talked, separating here and there as Roy danced with Ariel or Elicia. He
also shared one dance with Gracia and two with Maes.

The entire Homunculi family was invited every year, but they rarely came. This year,
surprisingly, four of the seven showed up. One of the four was Gerard. The man had never
before attended, and Roy didn’t like any of the reasons he could come up with concerning the
change of heart.

Time passed uneventfully with the number of new arrivals slowing to a crawl and eventually
stopping by the first hour mark. The few press allowed inside questioned or chatted with him
every now and again, but it wasn’t nearly the coverage he’d been hoping for. Fortunately or
unfortunately one, this was turning out just like any other ball.

“Alphonse Elric and his date, Winry Rockbell.”

Roy paused his conversation with Ariel and the Hughes family to watch the younger Elric
enter, an exhilarated blush dusting his cheeks. He looked nice in his suit, and while Winry
didn’t have the same elegance as Ariel, she wasn’t anything to scoff at, either.

The blue, gold, and black suited them, and Roy could almost see them bonding as they
walked to the bottom of the steps. Once they reached the floor, Roy’s eyes moved expectantly
back to the double doors at the top. He barely heard Elicia’s squeal as the doors reopened.

“Major Edward Elric.”

Roy had been wrong. He may never have been more wrong in his life.

Edward was as far from as awkward as possible in a black three-piece suit. White gloves hid
his hands, and a black tie hung neatly around his neck, unaware of how enviable the position
was. His golden hair, pulled back in a low ponytail with a simple black ribbon, made Ariel’s
beautiful blonde locks more comparable to straw.

When he started down the steps, Roy was able to see that the suit wasn’t just Edward’s size, it
was made specifically for Edward. It fitted to the contours of his body softly but with
purpose, showing off his well-defined torso and trim waist. His suit jacket was unbuttoned,
and it fluttered behind him as he moved quickly down the stairs, in no way concerned with
the slow, elegant pace expected of him.

As soon as he got to the bottom, his frown turned into a scowl. “Can I take this off now?”

Edward’s fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket just under the lapels, and Roy was
tempted to say yes for them. Winry smacked Fullmetal on the chest. “No! Ed, you just got
here. At least wait until you’ve danced a few times.”

“I wanna dance!” Elicia piped in without ceremony, and there was no question as to whom
she wanted to dance with.

Edward smiled as she took his hand, pausing only long enough to relieve himself of the suit
jacket and shove it into his brother’s arms before hurrying to the dance floor. Roy had never
seen anyone look better in a white button-up and vest, and he didn’t stop looking until
Edward and Elicia were well-hidden by the crowd of dancers.

The next thing to touch Roy, surprisingly, was Edward’s jacket as Alphonse pressed it none-
too-gently against his chest. Roy grabbed it more out of reflex than anything else, catching
the barest warning in golden eyes before the younger Elric was dragged out to dance.

When Roy finally returned his attention to the group he was previously speaking with,
Maes’s over-ecstatic family-man grin made him wish he hadn’t.

“Isn’t my Elicia just beautiful next to Ed? She’s practically glowing.”

Ariel nodded. “He is quite handsome. When I heard the title of Fullmetal Alchemist I
expected someone more rugged. Of course, I also expected someone at least partially metal.”
She stared curiously at the dance floor. “Have you met him before, Roy?”

“I have. He’s . . . not a fan of mine.”

She dragged her attention back to Roy, smile teasing. “Of course not. If the rumors are to be
believed, he hates the very people he works for, and if nothing else, you’re a military man.”
Roy kept his expression blank as he accepted the truth of it, and she re-wound her arm around
his bicep. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“I know.”

He offered a charming smile to ease her worries, and she returned the gesture. Roy waited
only long enough to place Edward’s jacket on the back of his previously-claimed chair to
lead Ariel to the dance floor.

As expected, Edward all but ignored Roy as the night wore on, and Roy worked hard to tear
his eyes away. Edward danced with Elicia most, Winry a few times, Gracia twice, Maes once,
and Gerard Homunculi an astonishing three times. On top of that, he sat at a small table with
Gerard for at least forty-five minutes between the second and third dances. Roy’s stomach
twisted at how much attention Edward was so readily handing to Gerard, and the shit-eating
grin Gerard tossed him when he noticed Roy’s glances didn’t help.

By the end of the night, Roy felt more irritation than anything else. It was with exasperation
that he followed Maes onto the dance floor for the final song. That frustration vanished when
Maes disappeared and Edward stumbled into his place. Pushed. Roy looked over just in time
to see Gracia take Maes’s hand and disappear into the crowd.
Roy caught Edward’s eyes, awkward as a teen. He raised his brows when Edward didn’t run
away. Slowly, Roy held out a hand. Much to his surprise, a metal appendage accepted his
offer. As the music began, they got into position, and Roy watched amber irises dilate as the
younger alchemist realized Roy wasn’t touching him. Their hands and bodies hovered
centimeters apart: close enough to feel the heat but not to make contact.

“You don’t like touching me, right?”

Edward’s eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle out Roy’s intentions. “Right.”

The dance started, and Roy was again surprised. Just as Edward didn’t appear awkward, he
didn’t move awkwardly. His steps were perfectly in time, their movements more flowing than
dancing.

Roy murmured, “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“You don’t know a lot of things.” Edward’s comeback was snide, but there was no bite
behind it. “Why do you get to lead?”

Edward must’ve expected Roy’s masculinity and natural affinity for leadership to shine
through in his answer because he looked more than a little shocked when Roy switched their
positions. It wasn’t the surprise, however, that made the flow they’d created stutter.

The next few steps were messy and had Edward’s eyes trained only on their feet. Edward
reversed their positions again within seconds, and Roy easily re-established the correct place
in the dance. A blush crept onto tan skin as Edward refused to look away from Roy’s chest.

“Al wanted to know how to dance so he could impress Winry, and I was the only person
around to practice with. I only know the woman’s part.”

Roy smiled at that, genuinely so, and added a flourish to their turn. As Edward raised his
eyes, Roy could only think that their barely-not-touching might actually be more intimate
than touching would’ve been.

“I can teach you to lead one day, if you’d like.”

“That’s . . . that’s okay. I don’t dance much.”

“You should.”

The rest of their dance was silent but comfortable. Edward only knew how to follow, but he
was brilliant at it. He caught onto Roy’s movements and moods as easily as if they’d been
dancing together for years. There were no mistakes, and if Roy decided to embellish
something, Edward knew how to flow with it. It was perfect.

(He was perfect.)

And if they stood closer than necessary for a few seconds after the song ended, that was their
business.
Roy bowed. Edward returned the gesture. The other dancers started to vacate the floor,
preparing for the trip home. Roy waited for Edward to leave first and was pleasantly
surprised when the blonde dawdled.

Ed reached up to rub the back of his neck, eyes on anything but Roy. “I just . . . thanks.” He
looked off to the side. “You know, for keeping them safe.” Edward’s hand dropped limply to
his side, and he made eye contact once more before nodding and walking away.

Roy reconvened with Ariel, grabbed the jacket that Edward seemed to care little-to-nothing
about, and made his way outside. Bradley was already there, crowded by the press, and Roy
made sure to hide his displeasure when only a few deemed him important enough to leave
Bradley for. He was able to answer a handful of questions before his attention drifted to the
three blondes emerging from the building.

“One moment, please.”

Roy smiled at the paparazzi as he made his way to Fullmetal and returned the jacket. Though
it wasn’t Roy’s intention, he couldn’t complain when pictures were taken.

“Thanks, Mustang.” Edward slipped the jacket on without complaint, clearly thinking that
was the end of their interactions. Then Bradley joined them.

“Why if it isn’t Edward Elric. After so many years of you turning down our invitations, I
didn’t expect to see you.” Bradley laughed as though he’d made an inside joke.

Edward frowned. “Yeah, well, my family wanted to come, so here I am.”

“Ah, yes. Always the family man.” Bradley clapped Edward on the shoulder. Cameras
flashed. “I hope it lived up to expectations.”

Edward glared at the Bradley’s hand. “Yeah. Great fun. Now if you don’t mind—”

“Fullmetal! Fullmetal, what are your thoughts on the upcoming election for Führer?” A
member of the press shouted the question into their conversation. All microphones tilted
forward as they awaited his response.

“I don’t vote.”

“Is that the truth, or are you just saying it to keep the peace at home?”

Fullmetal’s lips twisted in dumbfounded confusion. “What?”

“Is it true that Colonel Mustang forced you to live with him, and you’re saying you don’t
vote so you don’t upset him?”

It was a woman this time. Edward’s expression went from that’s-the-dumbest-thing-I’ve-

ever-heard to pissed off in seconds. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Mustang didn’t
force me into anything. I’m living with him for a grade. And while he wasn’t my first choice,
if I really, really wanted to avoid living with him, I could’ve dropped the damn class and
gotten the credit elsewhere. He’s no pocketful of sunshine, but he isn’t a fucking psycho,
either. And for the record, he couldn’t force me to do something if he fucking tried.” Edward
roughly shrugged the Führer’s hand off of his shoulder.

Bradly laughed. “Of course not, Major. None of us would assume the Hero of Ishval would
do something like that. They’re just surprised at your living situation. You two aren’t exactly
known for getting along.” Bradley’s smile took on a hint of condescension as he glanced at
Roy. “As for the voting, no one means to upset you. They’re only curious to hear the views of
someone with an objective standpoint on the matter. After all, while it’s reasonable for a war
hero to be a Colonel, some people are concerned the position of Führer might be a little
ambitious.”

Fullmetal’s lips thinned into a tense line. Roy physically braced himself for the response.

Edward said, “No, you’re right. It is ambitious for a war hero to go for the Führer’s position.”
Bradley’s grin widened. Roy closed his eyes, unable to watch the hit his career was about to
take. Edward continued, “And when you think about it, he owes the position he’s got now to
you. You’re the one who gave him the opportunity to be a war hero in the first place. You
made him what he is today.”

Pens were flying across paper. Roy glanced back when he felt a comforting hand on his
shoulder. Hawkeye nodded, assuring him that this didn’t matter. The rest of his unit stood
behind her with straight backs and battle-ready grins. Regardless of what Fullmetal said,
tonight would be a setback, not the end.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“No, you can’t. Because you’re the one who issued Order 3066. You know, the one that
turned alchemists into human weapons against not only enemy soldiers but the entirety of
Ishval.” Bradley’s smile soured. Roy turned back quickly enough to give himself whiplash.
Edward canted his head, faux-casual. “Or did you forget that’s what made him a war hero?
Because you keep referring to him by that title. ‘War hero’ this, ‘war hero’ that. Do you have
any idea what being a war hero actually entails?”

Bradley opened his mouth. Edward steamrolled him.

“Of course you fucking don’t. You just sat in your office sending oddly powerful, terrified
children out to do your dirty work. So, let me spell it out for you. That war hero was a little
boy who was convinced that if he didn’t murder people for his country, his friends and family
would die. He was a child who was forced to use what he should have felt was a gift as a
weapon. He didn’t take girls on dates or go to games with friends because he was busy
honing his skills for a war that he probably couldn’t even comprehend.

“Worse than that, he found out that he was good at it. He got sent to the front lines and
congratulated for causing harm to others. And even with those horrifying experiences under
his belt, he didn’t run. When he got out, he went right back in, going through actual training
at the appropriate age. He wanted to make sure not only that no one else would have to go
through what he went through but that no other sect of peoples would be so cruelly
persecuted. You caused that.
“You made him fiercely protective of his friends by giving him the knowledge of how easy
they are to lose. You turned him into a leader by forcing him to realize that letting someone
else do it leads to corruption and death. You made him a family man by forcing him to tear
families apart, and you made him your competition by being a complete and total fucking
asshole who only cares about the amount of power at your fingertips. When he becomes
Führer, the only person you’ll be able to blame is yourself because you made him.

“Yeah, the position of Führer is ambitious for a war hero, but he isn’t just a war hero. That’s
not what defines him. Not then. Not now. Mustang may be a manipulative bastard, but he’s
no monster. He could never make himself pull the kind of shit you did. It may not be this
election or the one after that, but one day he’s going to rip that Führer’s position right out
from under you, and when he does, he’s going to use it to help people. Really help, not just
shine up bullshit for douchebag paparazzi to glorify.

“Will he fuck up? Yeah. All the time. But he’ll fix it when he does. The right way. He’ll work
as hard for the people as the people do for him, and you’ll have a damn hard time finding
someone who’ll do it better. You goaded these idiots into asking me about the next election
because you thought I hate Mustang and would slander him for you. Maybe instead of putting
your competition down, you should be taking notes. For one, I hate being manipulated.”

Edward turned angrily to the press.

“And I don’t vote because I don’t fucking want to, thank you very much.”

He swiveled back to Bradley, staring the Führer straight in the eyes as he dared the man to
refute something he’d said. And maybe Bradley could save the situation, but not with
Fullmetal there to rebut his points.

Seeing the Führer didn’t intend to respond, Edward grabbed the arm of his brother’s jacket
and began pushing his way through the press. Winry held tightly to Alphonse’s hand so she
wouldn’t get lost in the mob.

“Fullmetal—”

“Major Elric—”

“Mr. Elric, wait—”

“Fuck off!” And with that simple phrase, Fullmetal broke free of the mob of paparazzi and
began walking home. The press took pictures of the trio’s retreating figures for as long as
they could. Roy took that reprieve to put his hand to his face, covering the grin that he just
couldn’t stop. It was a grin that would relay the butterflies taking over his stomach and a grin
that would surely turn to disbelieving, ecstatic laughter should he not repress it quickly
enough.

Hawkeye’s hand tightened on his shoulder before she moved back, and Ariel leaned more
against him. He didn’t mind the wrinkles. He didn’t even care that he had been ignored the
majority of the ball. Fullmetal had not only stood up for him, but done so against the Führer.
 By the time the press turned back—the ones who didn’t feel they had enough of a story
already—Roy’s next move was already set. All the press coverage he’d needed had been
handed to him, free of charge, and the only way to put Bradley down further was to show that
this really wasn’t what defined him.

He walked away.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed wasn’t stupid. He knew what he had done the night before would cause more trouble than
telling off the Führer had been worth. At the same time, the man had pissed him off. It wasn’t
even about Mustang being misrepresented. It was about the war being shoved under the rug.

Like it didn’t matter anymore.

But it did. Ed had been to Ishval. He’d met survivors of the massacre, and he had felt pure,
all-consuming rage at the injustices committed. Some soldiers had wanted the bloodshed,
relished in it, even. Mustang was not one of those people. He was just a kid who’d been sent
to a short-lived, ill-prepared training center, then dumped into hell.

It was lucky that he’d met Maes beforehand. Otherwise, there was no telling what the
battlefront would’ve done to his psyche. And yet, the cause of all that pointless bloodshed
had the gall to pass Mustang off as just a war hero. Like the war was all Mustang had ever
been and would ever be good for. Ed didn’t have to be a fan of Mustang to correct that error.
He had to be human.

“Brother?”

Ed looked away from the train’s window to Al, who’d been berating him for making himself
a target of the Führer for the past few hours. “Yeah, Al?”

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Look, I get why you’re concerned, but I can handle myself. Besides, the bastard deserved
it.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t. I’m just worried. This is the Führer we’re talking about.”

“And?”

Winry kicked Ed’s automail leg from her seat next to Al. “Damn it, Ed. This isn’t funny. Here
you are, making sure we get back to Resembool safely, and we aren’t even the ones in danger.
Who’s going to look after you on the way back? Who’s going to stop another chimera from
attacking you? Who’s going to keep you safe?”

Ed grimaced, guilt over causing them so much strife sinking in, but he didn’t waver. “I’ll
protect me. Just like I always have.”

“And what if you aren’t enough?”

“I will be.”
Al cut in with a quiet, “Use Mustang, too.”

Confusion flooded Ed. Hadn’t Al been the one leading the don’t-get-close-to-Mustang
crusade recently?

Al stared at his hands, then at Ed. “I don’t like him any more than you do, but he’s strong.
Physically. Politically. He really likes you, and if nothing else, he’ll do his best to keep you
safe.”

“Al, I don’t need a babysitter—”

“Then you keep him safe, too! Equivalent exchange.” Al leaned forward, desperation
palpable. “Promise me, Brother. Promise me you won’t rush into this alone.”

Ed hesitated, then shook his head. “Mustang’s only out for himself. It’s not equivalent
exchange if he won’t keep his end of the bargain. If I just—”

“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have defended him.”

That wasn’t true. Ed had spoken up because of the war and because Bradley was a douche.

As though hearing Ed’s thoughts, Al continued, “Yeah, you’ll stand up for friends and
strangers alike, but not people you hate. Because when you hate someone, it’s because you
think the person is bad. You’re good, Brother, but you aren’t nice. If you thought he was
getting what was coming to him, you would’ve walked away. More than that, you trusted he
would keep Winry and me safe. You didn’t say ‘Run to Maes’s, you said ‘Run back to
Mustang’s.’ You may not like him as a political figure, but you know he’s good for his word,
and you know he’ll do whatever it takes to keep the people closest to him safe. His unit. The
Hughes family. Us.” Al paused, clearly torn between saying what he wanted and sparing Ed’s
feelings. “You’re scared, Brother. I get that. It’s not an excuse to be stupid, too.”

Ed leaned back, craning his neck to stare at the ceiling.

When had he started lying to himself?

He didn’t like a lot of the things Mustang did, but that was politics. That was where Mustang
thrived and the path he had chosen. Hadn’t Ed just asked the other man not to downplay his
choices for being different? Mustang had said he would stop manipulating Ed as much as he
could, and he’d been true to that. He’d been straight with Ed, and he’d kept Al and Winry
safe instead of going out to secure even more credit. He’d trusted that Ed knew what he was
doing and followed unspoken orders.

Mustang had been the first name to pop into Ed's head, and in an emergency situation, Ed had
trusted that the Colonel would protect his family. Ed didn’t generally like Mustang, no. On a
superficial level, Ed trusted him as far as he could throw him. When things got right down to
it, though? Ed trusted Mustang more than he was comfortable admitting.

Maybe not politically. Maybe not for the public. But if something actually, physically came to
harm Ed, Mustang would do everything in his power to stop it.
If Ed were being honest with himself, the only reason Mustang was willing to toss him to the
wolves in other situations was probably the knowledge that he would be fine on his own. If
Ed needed help, Mustang would lend a hand. If not, Mustang would allow Ed his pride—
his independence—and deal with the aftermath later. Mustang had been going a little far by
calling them friends, but Ed couldn’t figure out what else they would be.

Partners, maybe? It was just ambiguous enough that Ed didn’t have to waste time defining
things. Partners against injustice. Partners in keeping loved ones safe. Partners in taking
down chimeras.

Al was right about Ed being scared. Scared that he could grow to like Mustang. Scared of
being a pawn and scared of tasting victory only to have it taken away. Scared of the moments
they shared where Ed was genuinely content.

When had hypocritical pansy become an accurate substitute for Edward Elric?

Ed sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I promise.”

He didn’t have to look to see Al’s relief any more than he had to look to see Winry slipping
her hand into Al’s, silently assuring him that he was doing the right thing. Neither of them
wanted to see Ed get hurt by Mustang, but it was a better alternative than death by Führer. Or
chimera. Or literally any other enemy Ed had picked up along the way.

“Good. Then it’s onto the stuff that really matters.” Winry grinned, hand-in-hand with Al.
“What’s up with you and that Greeling guy?”

Ed raised his brows as he turned his full attention back to his family. “Nothing. Why?”

Winry stared uncomprehendingly at Ed before giggling, and Al joined her a few seconds
later.

“What? What is it?”

They only laughed harder, and Ed gave up on figuring out the method to their madness.

(***Intertwined***)

ALCHEMIST OF THE PEOPLE INVOLVED WITH HERO OF ISHVAL?

Mustang was the one to show Ed the newspaper. When the blonde scoffed, tossing it to the
side without giving it another thought, Mustang handed him another.

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST CHOOSES A SIDE

Ed didn’t pay that one any mind, either.

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST TO BE THE NEXT FÜHRER?

FLAME ALCHEMIST GAINS SUPPORT OF THE PEOPLE

ISHVAL WAR REVISITED: WAR CRIMES OR NECESSARY PROTECTION?

ROY MUSTANG: THE MAN BEHIND THE WAR HERO

“There are a million different versions of what you said after the ball. Some of them pass you
off as a delusional child. Some of them make you out to be a hero. Some of them say you’re
just defending me while others draw you out as competition. A select few think that you
genuinely just hate Führer King Bradley.”

“What? Someone actually got it right?”

“You’re the center of attention, Fullmetal. A lot of people are rallying in your favor, but there
will be plenty who take offense at your views. You have to be more careful.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be happy?” Ed flipped a page in his book. “You were the dame of
the ball.”

Mustang set the rest of his formidable stack of newspapers on the kitchen table with a
frustrated sigh. “Just ten minutes. Care about what could happen to you for just ten minutes.
While I’m thankful for what you said—”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“—it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve put us both—mainly you—in jeopardy. The Führer
isn’t going to sit back and take this. You have to be prepared for a counterattack, and I doubt
it’ll be as nice as a few scathing words to the press.”

“Oh, no. Not the Führer. Whatever shall I do?”

“Fullmetal—”

“What? You said to care. This is me. Caring.”

“I was being serious, Fullmetal.”

“Yeah, me too. If the Führer wants to puff out his chest and have a dick measuring contest,
I’m for it. I won’t bare my neck just because he’s got an impressive title barking at his heels.”

Mustang slammed his hands against the table, more irritated than Ed had ever seen him. “You
can take care of yourself. I get that. We all get that. I’m not asking you to go under twenty-
four-hour surveillance. I’m just saying to stay out of the limelight until this calms down.”

“I’m not talking to the press again, if that’s what you mean.”

“Your every move is being watched. The second you step out of line, they’ll strike.”
Ed raised a brow, silently inquiring if that was supposed to concern him.

Mustang clarified. “People are going to come after you.”

“Well maybe instead of sitting here and bitching at me, you should help me keep a lookout.”
Silence permeated the room, too thick for Ed to comfortably read through. He looked up
from his book to see Mustang already watching him back. Waiting for the piece of the puzzle
he must’ve missed. Ed sighed and closed his book, using his thumb to keep his place. “Look,
I’m not going to back down from this chimera hunt, and I’m not going to back down against
the Führer. Same goes for you. So, at least on those fronts, we may as well work together.
Watch each other’s backs.” Ed waited for a response. Mustang maintained his blank stare. Ed
sneered. “If you don’t want to—”

“Alphonse put you up to this, didn’t he?” Ed’s glare harshened. Mustang started re-stacking
the newspapers. “I want to work with you. I do. But you can’t run around like a lone ranger
and leave us to scramble in your wake.”

“Us?”

“I don’t do anything without my unit, and they don’t do anything without me. My protection
is their protection.”

Ed stared at Mustang, surprised at how much they sounded like a family.

Mustang continued, “By proxy, my trouble is their trouble, and you’re a lot of trouble. I want
to help keep you safe, and I would honestly feel safer knowing you were watching out for
me, but I need to know you’re going to work with me, not against me.”

“I’m listening.”

“Share your information. If you think you’ve got a lead or if you see someone suspicious,
don’t charge in headfirst. Let me know and work with me on the best plan of action. If
something happens, I want to be able to help you. Whether or not you can handle something
on your own doesn’t matter. It’s about having backup on the off-chance that you can’t. The
less damage, the better.”

Ed leaned one elbow on the table. “I’ll keep you in the loop, but I won’t wait for your men to
come sneak around in my shadow. I’ve been on too many missions where unnecessary lives
were lost thanks to protocol keeping us from catching the culprit when we had the chance. If
help is there, I’ll accept it. But I won’t wait for it.”

“If help is there though, you stick to the plan. I don’t need a loose cannon putting the rest of
my team in danger.”

“That’s only if you don’t go making plans I can’t be expected to follow. If I see someone’s in
danger, I’m going in. If I think someone’s in danger, I’m going in.”

“And I’ll make sure whoever’s with you is aware of that. But I can’t send my men into a
situation blind. If you know something, you have to tell me. The more I know, the easier it is
to gain the upper-hand.”

“It would be at the end of the day. When you get back and I feel like talking. I’m not going to
report in like one of your lackeys.”

Mustang and Ed gauged each other, neither ready to believe working together would be so
simple.

Eventually, Mustang capitulated. “But you will let me know. If it’s pertinent, you let me
know right away. Otherwise, I can wait.”

“You do the same. If I’m telling you what I stumble across, you’ve got to be reciprocating.
No hiding things to keep me where you want me or manipulating the information I receive.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Though they’d come to an agreement, the air was tenser than ever. There was just something
about Mustang that got under Ed’s skin. He put Ed on the defensive and made Ed feel like he
had to keep on his toes or be overtaken. Mustang’s manipulations were anger-inducing, but
his drive to help and brilliance in the field were a light in the dark.

The Colonel was someone worth following when it came down to it, and that made it harder
to find the line in the sand. How much could Ed trust Mustang before he became one of the
man’s puppets? How close could he get before being burned?

Because he would get burned. That, much like death and equivalent exchange, was inevitable.

(***Intertwined***)

A lot of confusing things happened when Ed returned to school. For one, Scar smiled at him.
Not smirked. Not looked generally less apathetic. Actually smiled. That smile was followed
by a nod, which Ed confusedly returned. For another, Greeling sat next to him instead of
Mustang. Martel didn’t question her leader, simply moved with him.

Ed would admit that he’d spent a lot more time with Greeling at the ball than he’d intended,
but that didn’t make them friends.

“May I?” Greeling held out a hand for Ed to take.

Ed popped another tiny cake into his mouth. “No.”

“Not even one tiny dance?”

“No.”
“What if I told you I have information on your little chimera problem?”

Ed stopped stuffing his face only long enough to consider Greeling’s proposal. If he was
telling the truth, a dance was nothing.

Ed swallowed half the food in his mouth and pushed the rest between his teeth and cheek.
“Like what?”

But Greeling only moved his hand a little closer, insisting the dance come first. Ed rolled his
eyes and ate one more miniature pastry before roughly accepting the offer. Greeling’s
arrogant grin widened, and as Ed was being led onto the dance floor, he took the time to
actually observe his impromptu dance partner.

Greeling was out of his usual tight black clothes and fluffy vest, instead wearing a fitted black
suit that had to cost at least six times what Ed had paid. And Ed’s suit hadn’t been cheap. It
looked good on Greeling though, emphasizing his broad chest, trim waist, and long legs.
Greeling loved nice things, and nice things loved him back. The life of luxury wasn’t
something he was attempting to fit into but a world in which he thrived. His usual round
sunglasses were gone, leaving stormy grey eyes in plain view, and it did wonders for showing
off his aristocratic facial structure.

Greeling, if one ignored his personality, was an attractive man.

And a spectacular dancer. He took the lead, which was fine since Ed didn’t know how, and
danced in a way that would’ve been easy to follow even without all those lessons with Al.

The music ended almost before Ed knew it, and he backed away. “Now talk.”

Greeling only grinned, mischief lighting his eyes, and held his hand out once more. “You
don’t call me Greeling for nothing.” He bounced his hand mid-air, smile turning playful.
“C’mon. Just one more.”

If Ed were being honest, he wasn’t sure why he agreed to dance with Greeling the second
time. He was pretty sure Greeling had been yanking his chain about having information. But
it wasn’t like he had a good reason to turn the man down, either. Dancing with him wasn’t
bad, and Al and Winry were going to be caught up in each other for the foreseeable future.

So, that’s what he did. He danced with Greeling for one more song, and though they didn’t
talk, it was comfortable. When that dance ended, Ed didn’t pull away. He tightened his grip
on Greeling’s hand and led the other man to an unused corner of the room. Greeling didn’t
protest, just grinned and allowed himself to be led.

When they finally reached the far-back table, Ed released Greeling and crossed his arms.
“There. Two dances. Now talk.”

“You really think two rounds is enough to sate me?” Greeling’s voice took on a distinctly
sexual undertone.

Ed snorted. “The deal wasn’t to sate you. It was to dance.”

Greeling laughed and took a seat, lightly motioning for Ed to follow. Once the eldest Elric
was seated, he began. “First off, you’re out of your league. The guys behind this aren’t
military dogs, they’re alphas. They’re the kind of people you had nightmares about as a kid.
In fact, with the kind of power they hold, you may as well be challenging the Führer himself.
You hear me? I mean, I’ve heard stories of your recklessness, but even you would back down
if pitted directly against the most powerful man in Amestris.”

“Fuck the Führer.”

Greeling laughed, long and loud. Ed continued to hand him a blank stare.

“Oh, god. I needed that. But anyone can talk trash when nobody’s around. Going up against
the guy is a different matter entirely. Not that I’m blaming you. Brad isn’t my favorite guy,
either. I’m just saying it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

“If all you’re going to do is warn me that I can’t handle it, you’re wasting my time.”

“Ooh. Gutsy. My kind of guy.” When Ed didn’t respond, Greeling leaned his chair back and
placed his feet on the table, legs crossed at the ankles. “Well, if you’re going to do it anyhow,
know that there’s a hell of a lot more where the one you beat down came from. I’m not sure
how many of ‘em have humans all twined up inside, but what they lack in smarts, they make
up for in viciousness.” Grey eyes gave Ed an unhurried once-over. “Reports said the one you
fought got you good, but you certainly don’t look hurt.”

“How’d you get the reports?”

“A lackey of my brother’s is a lackey of mine.”

“Uh-huh. So, do you know where they’re kept?”

“No, but I know the alchemy used to make them. And I know how to make sure you don’t get
so torn up next-go-round.”

“I thought I looked fine.”

“Oh, you do.” The sexual undertone was back. “But then, you’d look good with just one arm.
Or an arm and a half.”

At that, Ed actually chuckled. Greeling perked up, his grin turning pleased and a little
prideful. Ed shrugged. “Yeah, so it got a little messed up. But that’s the perk of having a
replaceable limb.”

“And what about the non-replaceable parts?”

“They manage.”

“What if I said I could prevent any future injuries? That would help you protect your family,
right?”

“And how would you do that?”

“Alchemy.”

“If there were alchemy like that, I’d know.” But the way Greeling grinned said otherwise, and
Ed found himself frowning. “What else about the chimeras?”

“They aren’t just chimeras. They’re part of a larger plan. Something bigger than either you
or me. Something bigger than Amestris.”

“But you don’t know what.”

“I didn’t think it was interesting before.”

Ed gave Greeling a skeptical look before accepting that the older man had always had an
odd idea of what was interesting and what wasn’t. “Is that all?”

“All for now.”

Ed watched Greeling for a few minutes before turning his attention back to the dance floor.
Maes was dancing with Gracia, Mustang with Elicia, and Al with Winry. Maybe it was that
Ed actually liked this song or possibly just the atmosphere of the ball, but when Ed stood, he
offered Greeling a hand.

“To sate you.”

“Sate me? Why, that could take all night.”

Or maybe that was why Ed wanted to dance with him one more time. When Greeling wanted
something, he went straight for it. No games. No manipulation.

“Just one.”

Greeling’s grin bet against that number, but Ed’s judgment could only falter for so long.

Ed glanced over to Greeling, who was still staring at him. “You need something?”

“Not really.” Before Ed could go back to staring out the window, Greeling redrew his
attention by saying, “I just never would’ve thought you were serious about facing Brad.” The
way Greeling said Brad showed that he found the nickname demeaning.

Ed shrugged. “He was asking for it.”

“Always is. Doesn’t mean I want to get caught in his crosshairs.”

“Yeah, well some of us aren’t cowards. He can come after me if he wants. I’d love an
opportunity to kick the bastard’s teeth in.”

Greeling laughed. “A coward, huh? Maybe he just hasn’t given me a reason to get in his
way.”

“Then you’re either blind or stupid.”

“Those the only options?”

“So far.”

Greeling leaned between their desks, into Ed’s personal space. “Maybe you could help open
my eyes.”

Ed sighed, whatever patience he’d had for Greeling’s games leaving him in a rush. “I’m not
trying to draw you to my side or ask for your help. I insulted the Führer because he was being
an asshole and trying to act like the Ishval Civil War wasn’t political bullshit that led to the
outright slaughter of millions of innocent people. If he wants to pay me back for that, he’s
welcome to try. No matter what he says, no matter what he does, he was wrong. The war was
wrong. His leadership is wrong. I don’t really care what happens to this already-corrupt-as-
hell government, but I won’t let him or anyone else treat innocent people like they’re lucky to
be the dirt he walks on. Not in front of me.”

Greeling straightened, more serious than before. Ed returned his attention to the window. The
next time he tuned back into reality, it was for Armstrong.

The blonde bodybuilder looked positively thrilled to see Ed sitting at his desk again, sparkles
erupting behind him in a show of joy. “Oh, my friends. I hope you had the most marvelous of
weekends and are ready to dive back into the art of bonding with vigor!”

(***Intertwined***)

Though Greeling held a short conversation with Ed every day, it was Scar who made the first
major impact.

“Is that him? Is it really?” A woman with dark skin and long, wavy brown hair smiled up at
Scar before looking back to Ed, who was just surprised that anyone other than him remained
on campus.

“It is.” Scar moved them both closer, gently pushing her wheelchair in a way that could only
be described as loving. When she got close enough, Ed noted that her irises were red. She
was Ishvalian.

When she finally reached the table, she leaned forward, stretching a hand out for Ed to shake.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long. To thank you. But Namae here kept saying the
time wasn’t right. I’m sure you know how hard it is to sway him once he’s made up his
mind.”

She sounded sweet, and though Ed had no idea what she was talking about, he nodded.

Ed shook her hand. She reached forward with her free hand to hold the back of his hand as
well. Ed looked to Scar, whose real name was apparently Namae, and watched as he took a
seat beside the woman. As soon as he was settled, he lifted a hand to remove his sunglasses.
He set them gently on the table, revealing red irises like it was nothing.

Ed turned back to the woman, panic rising as he noticed the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m
sorry. I . . . Have we met somewhere?”

She laughed breathlessly, one hand releasing Ed’s to wipe away the tears, and nodded. “Yeah.
You saved me.”

“You saved us.” Namae reached over to link hands with the woman. They smiled at each
other in a way only lovers could. As Namae turned back to Ed, a ghost of that smile
remained. “I was once a warrior monk of Ishval. I had three things to cherish: God, my
brother, and his girlfriend, Elaine.” Namae lifted their clasped hands to show that the
mysterious woman was the girlfriend being referenced. “Then the Ishval Civil War came, and
my brother was taken from me. I lost an arm, and Elaine was severely injured. My brother’s
arm replaced my own, saving my life, but it only acted as a reminder of what I’d lost.”

Namae pulled up the sleeve of his yellow jacket, revealing a large tattoo of a dangerous
transmutation array. Ed whistled lowly. Coming in contact with that arm was far more
dangerous than he had ever assumed. He returned his attention to Namae’s face. Red eyes
watched him closely before nodding, and the sleeve was released.

“As the days passed, I found myself succumbing to a darker and darker thirst for revenge. We
were obviously Ishvalian, and prejudices in our part of the country ran deep. No one would
help us. They sat back, watching us suffer while praising the beasts who did this to us. I
couldn’t find work. I couldn’t get medicine. I thought this was God’s way of turning me into
an agent of His divine punishment, and I swore that as soon as she died, I would go forth on a
mission to destroy as many State Alchemists as I could.”

Ed couldn’t help but tense, and Namae’s miniscule smile grew even gentler.

“And then you came along. No older than fourteen and filled with an unshakable sense of
right and wrong. We waited for you to spit at us like the others had, but instead you became
angry. Angry on our behalf. You threatened the landlord and paid the doctor such an
outlandish amount that he couldn’t think of refusing.”

Elaine took over from there.

“When we told you that we had no means to repay you, you waved it off saying, ‘It’s just
money, and it looked like you were gonna’”—her voice cracked, and she wiped her eyes
again—“‘gonna die if I didn’t do it. I don’t know about you, but I think money’s a pretty
stupid thing to die over.’ And then you left. Like it really was nothing. If you hadn’t been
there, I would be dead.”

“And I would’ve strayed so far from the path of the righteous that I may as well have been.”

Ed watched them, astonished. He remembered paying someone’s medical bills years back,
but it’d been on a whim. He’d thought the townspeople were just greedy, not that the people
 he’d helped had been specifically discriminated against. And not once had he thought that the
sickly, life-weathered man might be Namae.

“So that’s what you meant when you said ‘not yet.’ I thought you were talking about being
right for me.”

Elaine laughed again, almost overly happy. Namae shook his head. “It wasn’t the right time.
It’s also why I thought you should stray from the Colonel. I considered him a face of the war,
the military, and everything we had fought against. I suppose he’s no more the reason for the
war than I am though. Simply an unfortunate man on an opposing side.”

“I think that’s what most people were.”

“I apologize for interrupting!” Elaine sounded panicked and guilty as she gestured to his
book. “I was just so excited to finally see the man who had pulled us from the darkness that
—”

“Hey now. I didn’t do anything like that. I was just helping some people who needed it.
Honestly, by the time I got to the next town, it’d already slipped my mind. I’m no savior.”

“Edward.” Ed hesitated as Namae called him by his name for the first time. “The only people
who can forget about a heroic deed are those who experience them often.”

And for the very first time, Ed accepted that Alchemist of the People might actually be
accurate. He shut his book and gave them his undivided attention.

“So, what happened after I left?”

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When Namae’s eyes met Ed’s and they nodded to one another—when Namae sat
nonchalantly in front of the blonde, as though he’d been there all semester—the classroom
hierarchy was shaken. When Greeling’s brows rose and his sunglasses slid down the bridge
of his nose, his interest rising, the usual tension of having multiple alpha personalities in a
small space diminished. When Mustang walked into the room, noted the new arrangement,
and scoffed, it was Lust who investigated.

“My, my. Your boy’s becoming quite popular.”

Mustang turned to her and said something or another, but by that point, Ed had stopped
paying attention. Ed couldn’t explain why so many people were suddenly drawn to him. He
didn’t care enough to try, either. People did crazy, stupid things for no reason all the time.

After class, Namae gave him a look that questioned whether or not he wanted to be walked to
his next class. Ed waved him on, having no intentions of going to his next class anyhow.
Instead, he caught up with Mustang.

Obsidian eyes trained on Ed, collecting as much information as possible before the
conversation even began. “Fullmetal?”

“Just making sure you’re still up for dinner tonight.”

Mustang smirked, a tease and a taunt. Ed scowled to cover his embarrassment. Asking
Mustang to join him at Namae’s had been bad enough the first go-round. Reaffirming his
horribly date-like invitation was just humiliating.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Ed nodded, content with the conversation ending there.

He turned toward the library only for Mustang to ask, “You do know where his house is,
right?”

“No. I was actually planning on wandering the streets, knocking on the door of every house
that halfway looked like Namae might live there.”

Ed’s sneer was outdone by Mustang’s condescending how cute smile. “I figured as much.
Would you like me to show you a thing or two about being a responsible adult and ask for his
address?”

“No!”

Mustang’s brows rose, attention focused on Ed with an intensive curiosity.

Ed grimaced and looked off to the side. “He doesn’t exactly”—Ed licked his lips, searching
for the right words—“know you’re coming.”

Ed didn’t have to look to feel the judgment. He saw Mustang smile out of his peripheral
vision, gentle and humorous.

“So he didn’t invite me?”

“No.”

“So you invited me.”

“. . . Yeah.”

“So it is a date.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mustang. I didn’t invite you because I wanted to. I did it because—” Ed
hesitated. If he fessed up now, Mustang would spend the rest of the day scheming on how to
best handle the situation. “Actually, I promised Al I’d call him yesterday. He’s probably
worrying a hole in the floor right now. I should get to that.” Ed fast-walked toward the
library, thanking whichever lucky star hadn’t abandoned him that Mustang wasn’t feeling
persistent.

Besides, it wasn’t a total lie. Al really had been nagging him to call more, and the librarian
didn’t mind him using the phone. The librarian didn’t mind much of anything he did, really.

The phone rang twice before Al’s voice came through. “Hello?”

“Hey, Al. How’s it going?”

“Brother! I’m well. I’m just finishing up some last minute research before class. What’s
going on?”

Ed leaned his shoulder against a bookshelf, the short phone cord stopping him from getting
too comfortable. “What? You’re always pestering me to call and now that I do, I need a
reason?”

“Brother.”

“Come on, Al. I just wanted to check in on my little brother and make sure—”

“Are you using me as an excuse to get away from Mustang?”

Ed raised a hand to scratch his cheek, smile sheepish. “That obvious, huh?”

“You have a lot of strong suits, Brother. Lying isn’t one of them.” There was a pause where
Ed assumed Al was correlating something in his notes with whatever he was reading. “That’s
fine though. I actually wanted to ask you what you know about botanic alchemy.”

“Botany? That’s a pretty broad field.”

“Right. Sorry. What do you know about alchemic gene splicing? And what about the
controversy between bringing plants to life and how it tempts people towards . . . you know.”

“Human transmutation.”

“Right.”

Ed craned his neck to stare at the ceiling, even that small movement pulling the phone cord
taut. “The gene splicing depends entirely on outer-rim runes, and the outcomes are unstable
as fuck. It’s hard to control which traits will be dominant and prominent no matter how much
you specify, and if you get the wrong mix, the thing just dies. It sucks to admit, but I think it’s
just a matter of trial-and-error until you figure how each rune is reacting with each trait and
why. The results will vary some by species, yeah, but that can be tracked and accounted for.

“Not that I’m saying you should do it. Botany’s one of the only fields that manages to make
alchemy boring. As for it being a gateway to human transmutation, that’s just paranoid
geezers blowing smoke out their asses. The problem with human transmutation is the soul,
not the life. Last time I checked, plants don’t have a soul.”

“That’s what I was thinking. It’s not something I would want to spend years on, but the idea
of being able to more easily populate a desolate area with partially-grown vegetation is
tempting.”

Ed shook his head and tapped his pointer finger against the back of the phone. “No, they
would have to terraform the land and supplement its resources before any alchemically-
grown shrubbery could survive. It’ll take a lot more than well-drawn circles to produce that
kind of funding.”

Al sighed, disheartened. “I guess so. It just seems cruel to let people starve over something as
dumb as money, you know?”

“I hear you, Al. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Not yet, anyhow.” Ed turned to the
side, shoulder pushing a few of the books toward the back of the shelf. “Who knows? Maybe
once the military lets go of my leash, I can travel around and help some towns get off the
ground.”

“I thought you said botany made alchemy boring.”

“Yeah, but I’m getting old, Al. Everyone knows old people like to garden.” Ed paused as Al
laughed, a smile tipping his lips. “So, how are things with Winry?”

“I, uh, well . . .” Al’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“It?”

Ed could practically hear Al blush.

“Look at the time! I’ve got to get to class. Sorry Brother. I’ll call later!” His farewell was
punctuated with a dial tone.
Ed chuckled at his younger brother’s attempt at discretion and hung the phone back in its
cradle. He looked around the library for another way to kill time. The books called to him, as
they always called to him, but a frustrated tension in his spine warned him away. After a full
fifteen seconds of contemplation, he headed to the gym. A good workout was exactly what
the doctor ordered.

If someone saw Ed taking out his frustrations by running, punching, or hitting, they would
probably blame his spat with the Führer, Mustang, or general anger issues. If someone were
to ask him about his pent-up irritations, he would probably list one of those three things.

In reality, he was still torn up over having taken such a beating against the chimera. Every
night before bed, he imagined what would’ve happened had he been even slightly weaker or
slower. He thought about what to do next time, when two of the beasts escaped instead of
one. He ran over all the terrible possibilities in his head and let it sink in that there were
plenty of loved ones still in Central whose deaths he could never live down.

If he didn’t train even harder and get exponentially stronger, what was he worth? A few
minutes of extra time to flee while he was turned into a chew-toy, that’s what.

“Fullmetal?”

Ed looked over to see Mustang standing in the doorway of the gym, brows furrowing as he
took in the slicked-back hair and pressed pea coat. Mustang had probably even ironed his
scarf.

“Why are you so dressed up?”

“Our date, of course.”

“Our . . .” Blonde brows furrowed even further before lifting to make a broken arch. “Shit.
Namae’s house.” Ed pushed sweaty bangs out of his face and grabbed his red cloak. “What
time is it? Are we late?”

“Am I ever late?”

“Literally every instance involving paperwork.”

“Is there paperwork at his house?”

“No.”

“Then we must not be late.”

Ed frowned, but his heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace. Deciding Mustang wasn’t worth
the effort, he walked around his superior officer, pausing only to point a warning finger and
say, “Not a date.”

Mustang chuckled without disputing the claim and followed Ed outside. They crossed the
courtyard in companionable silence and headed to Mustang’s car. The ride was silent aside
from directions, and the small, tan house with the yard full of flowers looked exactly as
Namae had described. They parked on the street and walked to the door.

Ed didn’t comment when Mustang straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. Mustang
shot Ed an arrogant grin, to which Ed calmly knocked on the door. Namae opened it within
seconds. His welcoming smile froze as he caught sight of Mustang in much the same way
that Mustang’s polite, confidant smile faltered at seeing Namae’s red rises.

Namae’s gaze moved to Ed. “I was unaware you were bringing company.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Namae looked between Mustang and Ed once more before nodding and moving aside. “Of
course not. Welcome to our home.”

“Is that him? Namae, I haven’t quite finished the pie yet. Would you mind—” Elaine
hesitated as she saw Mustang enter the room, her reaction entirely different from either of the
men as she rolled herself quickly back into the kitchen saying, “I told you making extra food
is never a bad idea. Namae, can you set another plate while I put the pie in the oven?”

“Of course.” Namae turned from the doorway to motion toward the couch. “Make yourselves
at home. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

“Thank you very much.” Mustang spoke using his politician’s voice, and Namae nodded
before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ed walked over to the couch. Mustang continued to stare at the kitchen door. Despite his
carefully schooled, polite expression, Ed could see the apprehension. Mustang clearly
thought this was going to be some sort of stoning. That Ed had wanted revenge for something
and knew the best way to get it was to exploit his guilt-ridden past. He seemed genuinely
surprised when Elaine fetched them for the meal with a kind smile and warm voice.

Once they were seated, Elaine held out a hand. “Hello. I’m Elaine.”

Mustang took her hand almost daintily, like he was afraid she would break. “Roy.”

“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. You see, we were only expecting Edward. Not
that you’re unwelcome. A friend of Edward’s is a friend of ours.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m grateful to be welcomed into your lovely home, especially without
prior notice.” Mustang’s voice never rose above a polite murmur, his back ramrod straight.
“You’re very kind.”

“Oh my. You’re quite the charmer.” Elaine laughed, and Mustang relaxed a fraction to return
her smile. “We’ve gotten used to having Sheska over. The house has been too quiet since she
left to visit her parents, and it’s nice to have guests again.” Ed’s stomach interrupted Elain
with a grumble. She gestured to the food with a grin. “Please, dig in. Have as much as you
like.”
Ed, unlike Mustang, took her words to heart and piled his plate as high as he could. He
stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth, hummed in pleasure, and got even more. “You’re a
great cook.”

“Thank you. Though I have to admit that I was only in charge of the salad and pie. Namae
fixed everything else.”

“Really?” Ed spoke with a spoon hovering next to his mouth. “Never would’ve pegged you
as a chef.”

Namae smiled softly. “Most people don’t.”

“So, Edward. Will you tell us more about yourself?” Elaine leaned her forearms on the table,
stars in her eyes. “We went on and on last time, and you hardly said a word.”

Ed tilted his head as he finished chewing. He shrugged. “I guess so. What do you want to
know?”

“Anything. Everything. How did you become a State Alchemist?”

“How? I took the exam, I guess.” When that explanation clearly didn’t suffice, he continued,
“I studied day and night at the house of a”—Ed paused, both searching for the right words
and ignoring Mustang’s heavy gaze—“a renowned alchemist and his daughter. All the tests
were whatever, then there was an alchemy competition kinda thing, where your run-of-the-
mill tough guys were overexerting themselves to impress our douchebag judges.

“One guy made a blimp while another guy made a statue, and statue-guy used up so much
energy that he couldn’t move. The blimp crashed into the statue and knocked it over. So,
everybody stands around and panics while this guy is about to be crushed, and all I remember
thinking is how dumb adults are. I ran over and transmuted the blimp and statue into a billion
flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“They were the most harmless thing I could think of. That, and Nina was always talking to
me about magic flowers.”

“Nina?”

“The daughter of the alchemist I was staying with. She was the sweetest kid you’d ever meet.
Honestly? I probably should have studied more for the exam than I did, but I could never turn
her down when she asked to play.” Ed smiled nostalgically. Namae and Elaine exchanged a
concerned look.

Quietly, Namae asked, “Was?”

Ed’s smile faded. “Yeah. She—uh, she passed away.” Ed looked them in the eyes, wishing he
could leave it at that but knowing he couldn’t. They deserved more honesty, and Nina
deserved a real memory. “Her father actually fused her with her dog to create a human
chimera. She was killed shortly afterwards.”
Elaine’s fork clattered against her plate, forgotten, as she pressed a horrified hand to her
mouth. Namae’s lips tightened into a thin line, and Mustang tensed, no doubt remembering
having been called out that night.

“I didn’t protect her like I should’ve, but I’m thankful for the time that I got to spend with
her. She reminded me of what life was like before deciding to become an alchemist of the
State.”

Ed’s grin rushed back at full force as he deemed this a night for Nina and began spinning
tales of their many adventures together. And, honestly, it felt good. There were so many years
where he’d remembered her only for his shortcomings, and it was nice to think about her as a
person instead of a victim.

When his storytelling finally reached a lull, Elain chimed in. “She sounds delightful. It seems
like you all had a lot of fun together.”

“Oh, yeah. She liked to draw on anything and everything. Crayon-marks all over my notes.”
Ed laughed to himself, almost able to see the crudely drawn pictures in front of him.

“Did you keep any of them?” Mustang, for the first time since arriving, spoke without
sounding stiff.

Ed’s smile dimmed. “Sort of. I sent one with Al to keep—the one she drew to wish me luck
on my exam—and I doubt he threw it away, but I haven’t seen it in years.”

“If you can get him to send it to you, we can frame it and hang it in the library.”

Ed wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Mustang, but that wasn’t it. Ed didn’t respond,
if only for a lack of knowing how, and Namae saved him by asking how Mustang’s campaign
was doing.

“It’s going well.” That was Mustang’s political voice: the one he rehearsed so much that it
didn’t know how to waver. “I’m still far from being as well-known and thereby as supported
as the Führer, but if we keep a steady presence in and out of the field, our chances can only
increase.” An unsure silence settled between Namae and Mustang. “How did you and Elaine
meet?”

“Childhood friends.”

Ed thought that was a pretty vague way to say ‘she was my brother’s girlfriend before he died
and then almost died herself,’ but it wasn’t technically a lie. The tenseness re-settled itself
between them, as it had nearly every time Mustang made eye contact with Namae or Elaine,
and the Colonel focused his attention on the more easily approachable host.

“What’s your Core type?”

“Oh, I don’t have a Core.” Mustang and Ed exchanged a surprised glance. Elaine loosed a
playful laugh. “I always forget the emphasis your culture places on Core holders being with
other Core holders. You don’t have to bond, you know.” Her eyes met Ed’s, smile soft. “If
you really love someone, you stay together.”

And quite suddenly, Ed felt like an idiot. There he was fretting over being alone forever
because finding an Activation Fire Core holder who wasn’t also a dick was improbable-
bordering-impossible, when another, better option was right in front of him. He didn’t have to
bond. Hell, he didn’t even have to limit himself to Activation Core holders.

“And you have an Activation Fire Core, yes?” Elaine’s follow-up question was innocent, but
it let them know that she kept up with current events at least enough to know who Mustang
was.

Mustang’s brows furrowed. “Yes, I . . .” He trailed off, docility melting away like snow in a
rain storm. For the first time that night, he looked at Namae and Elaine with the same
determination Ed was used to avoiding. “Why did you let me into your home?”

Elaine’s smile brightened, mouth opening to say something that was sure to relate to Ed.

Mustang cut her off. “I’m not looking for an excuse about Fullmetal having good judgment.
I massacred your people.” His lips twisted into the barest hint of a grimace. Apologetic. Self-
loathing. “I was a soldier in the Ishval Civil War, and I didn’t do anyone any favors. You
shouldn’t be feeding me. You should be demanding my crucifixion.”

To Mustang’s credit, his voice didn’t waver. He stared straight at their hosts, ignoring Ed’s
existence entirely, and waited for them to confirm what he clearly thought of himself.

Surprisingly, it was Namae who responded. “You look like you’ve punished yourself more
than we ever could. When Edward brought you along, knowing who we are and who you are,
I’ll admit my shock and discomfort. In spite of your previous actions, however, you’ve
shown us no animosity. In contrast to every other time we’ve met, you could even be
considered meek. These are not signs of someone who enjoys killing.”

Despite Namae’s encouragement, Mustang frowned harder, even more frustration and
confusion slipping through his mask.

Elaine twined her hand with Namae’s and took over. “What Namae means to say is that the
Ishval Civil War has caused enough suffering. I’m sure your role in the war was something
that’s just as bad to experience as its consequences were.” She squeezed Namae’s hand,
looking to him for confirmation before gently turning her attention to Mustang. “We forgive
you.”

Mustang stared at them in disbelief, unable to comprehend the gravity of what they were
saying, until the news became too much to bear. He lowered his head and pressed his eyes to
the heels of his palms, allowing his gloves to catch anything that may fall.

Out of Mustang’s sight, Ed smiled at Namae and Elaine—at the way their eyes shimmered—
and took comfort in the knowledge that bringing Mustang with him had been a good
decision. This meet-up had been a long time coming for all three of them, and with the truth
of their pasts and emotions out in the open, the only thing left to do was heal.
They deserved at least that much.

(***Intertwined***)

Maes Hughes was a family man. Amongst all the secrets he hid for work, his pride as a
husband and father boldly stood out.

“Daddy, are we still going to the park tomorrow?”

Love filled his heart, overflowing. He’d joined the military to help people, but his dream had
always been to raise a family. Elicia and Gracia were his world.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. We’ll feed the ducks, and I’ll teach to how to do
a summersault, and you can wear that pretty new outfit your mother bought. You’ll look so
cute. I just know it.”

“I love ducks.” Elicia clapped her hands together and smiled up at him, completely ignoring
her dinner. “Can I have a duck, Daddy? Can I, can I please?”

Maes glanced at Gracia with a tender smile, which she received and returned with a cant of
her head. He said, “Sorry, sugar, but ducks don’t belong in houses.”

“But—but I would love it and we have lots of food and it can share my bed and I’ll give it
half the bathtub and—”

Gracia tucked a stray lock of hair behind Elicia’s ear. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m sure you’d take
awfully good care of a duck, but they don’t like living inside. That’s why we have to go to the
park to show we love them.” Gracia’s voice was so lovely that Maes had to actively remind
himself she wasn’t an angel.

Elicia twisted her little face into a scowl. “No! I want a duck!”

Maes frowned. “Elicia, what have I said about using that tone?”

Elicia’s tiny fists banged against the table as she made an unpleasant noise with the back of
her throat. “But Daddy! You said you loved me!”

Maes felt a pang in his heart, but he’d discovered years ago that children were quick to catch
onto manipulation tactics, and love was by far the easiest way to manipulate him. Luckily, he
also knew that they were only words to her. Nothing serious or lasting.

He said, “I do love you, sweetums, and so does your mother. You’re our little princess. And
as a princess, you need to be aware of how your actions affect others, ducks included. If
taking a duck home would make the duck unhappy, should you do it?”
Elicia’s mouth quivered in an adorably sad line as she uncurled her fists and stared at the
table. “No.”

“Because we don’t want the duck to be sad, do we?”

“No.”

“That’s my good girl. How about we bring extra oats and seeds for the ducks tomorrow?
Does that sound nice?”

Elicia watched Maes with understanding greater than her years. She knew he was placating
her and that she had lost. He wondered if she knew, like he did, that he wouldn’t always be
able to dictate her actions or steer her in the right direction.

She turned her gaze to the table, poked her spoon, then nodded. “Okay, Daddy. We’ll just
feed the ducks extra this time.”

This time.

Maes shared a glance with Gracia, then smiled like he didn’t catch the crafty wording.
They’d discuss it later. “Great! Now, finish your dinner so we can eat some of that delicious
cake your mother made.”

Maes winked at Elicia as though the dessert was a secret. The little girl giggled
conspiratorially. A forkful of carrots made it halfway to her mouth before the sound of
breaking glass punctured their night. Maes caught Gracia’s eyes, and when Elicia asked,
“Daddy, what was that?” the smile he put on for her was fake.

“Probably just a stray cat. What do you think about skipping the rest of dinner and heading
straight for dessert? I’ve got some special candy upstairs.”

Elicia perked up at the prospect of candy only to deflate and glance toward the door where
the noise had come from. She gripped her spoon tighter. “Is something bad happening?”

Pride and regret swelled in Maes’s heart as he took in his beautiful, brilliant little girl. He
smiled and, knowing she’d probably see through his lie, bought her innocence another day.
“Everything’s fine. The cat could have rabies. That’s all. Best to be safe.” He picked Elicia up
and grasped Gracia’s hand. Their trip up the stairs was quick. When Maes reached into his
bedside table for a handful of candy, he snuck a pistol out with it. “Now, why don’t you and
Mommy go into your room, and if I can’t catch that silly kitty in a few minutes, you get to
spend the night with Uncle Roy?”

Elicia watched him with wide eyes. She looked confused, like whatever was going on was
just out of her grasp. She nodded.

“Good. Now, you have to be a good girl if you want to see Uncle Roy tonight, okay? Make
sure to listen everything your mommy says.”

“Okay Daddy.”
“There’s my good girl. I love you so much.” Maes gave his daughter a tight hug before
straightening to kiss his wife. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

Maes smiled and moved away, more a family man now than ever. His crept down the steps,
socks silent against the wood. He stepped into the kitchen with his back to the wall,
cautiously scoping the perimeter. Keeping one eye on the path upstairs at all times, he snuck
into the living room. The glass from the broken window decorated the floor, and Maes’s
trigger finger tensed.

“Maes?”

“Gracia?” His hands fell to his sides as he rushed over to his wife. “Gracia, what are you
doing down here? Where’s Elicia?”

He heard the panic in his own voice. Felt the anxiety speed his heart. Gracia gently took the
gun from his too-ready hands. “Probably getting torn apart by chimeras.” She smiled,
beautiful as ever. Her voice was practically a singsong. “Or maybe she’s already dead. I can’t
imagine it would take long to devour such a tiny thing.”

Maes jerked away, very suddenly aware that this thing wasn’t his wife. He reached for his
gun, too late. She shoved him away and raised his pistol, too close to miss.

Maes schooled his expression to hide the fear in his heart. “Gracia and Elicia are long-gone
by now. You’ll never get to them.”

“We’ll see about that.” Fake Gracia pulled back the hammer of Maes’s pistol. “At
least, I will.”

Maes watched whatever had taken Gracia’s form and tried to think of this like Elicia’s acting
out. It only looked like Gracia because that was what would hurt him most, not because it had
anything to do with her.

As she smiled the smile he had been loving for the past decade and a half, Maes took his final
moment to pray for his family’s safety.

The gun fired and Maes fell to the floor, shoulder exploding in unexpected pain. He looked
up, unable to believe anyone was lucky enough to survive being shot at point-blank range,
and saw a man standing between him and Fake Gracia. She’d backed up a meter and was
holding her wrist, gun forgotten on the ground.

Fake Gracia snarled. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, Bro. This is my territory now.”

Maes’s eyes widened as he recognized Gerard Homunculi’s voice. Fake Gracia’s shock lasted
only a moment, her bleeding arm turning black and extending into sharp, tentacle-like
 appendages. Gerard tilted his head, appearing entirely unconcerned with the turn of events.
When the tentacles shot toward him, he grabbed them with his bare hands and flung Fake
Gracia across the room. A horrible snapping sound accompanied the crashing noise as she hit
the wall. More black spikes flew toward them before the debris could hit the ground.

Gerard, apparently, was prepared for this as he bolted forward, twisting through the black
lines with an unnerving grin on his face. “C’mon now. You can’t really think you’ve got what
it takes to beat me.”

The pointed ends of the tentacles came too close to Maes for comfort before turning and
speeding toward Gerard’s unprotected back.

“Fuck you! You think you’re so fucking great!” The spikes made contact with Gerard’s back
but only managed to pierce his clothing. “You think you can do whatever you want!”

Fake Gracia’s voice deepened in the middle of ‘whatever’ and the figure that stood from the
rubble was another of the Homunculi siblings: Envy. He ran at Gerard, and Maes took that
moment to escape from the living room, all the while attempting to slow the blood flow from
his shoulder.

As he raced up the steps, he heard, “Why are you helping him? What could possibly be
important enough to pit yourself against Bradley?”

If they said anything else, Maes didn’t hear it. The noise from their battle escalated. He
crested the top of the stairs. Pain thudded in his shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers,
dull in comparison to the devastating sense of loss that came with reaching Elicia’s room and
finding no one there.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

At the beginning of dinner, Mustang and Namae found a mutual hatred for war. By dessert,
they found a mutual love for classical music and explosive alchemy. Come the end of dessert,
they were so deep in conversation about fire alchemy and its many positive, non-destructive
uses that answering a knock on the door was left to Ed. Well, technically it was left to Elaine,
but Ed didn’t see a reason to force her to roll out from behind the table.

“Havoc?”

The look on Havoc’s face at seeing Ed was a mix of relief and pity: a regret-filled apology
that made Ed’s heart drop.

“Fullmetal. Is the Colonel with you?”

Not boss man. The Colonel.

Ed refused to look away from Havoc as he turned his head and shouted, “Mustang!”

Both Mustang and Namae joined him within seconds. The pity intensified. Mustang must
have seen it, too, because he turned and grabbed his coat from the kitchen.

“Thank you for the lovely evening. I’m sure we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Namae could clearly read subtext better than most as he nodded, understanding that
something was very, very wrong. By the time Elaine rolled into the room, they were out the
door.

Ed waved. “Sorry. We gotta go. Thanks for having us.” Elaine looked worried and crestfallen.
Ed tacked on a hurried, “We’ll do this again soon. With Sheska next time.” He closed the
door before either of them could respond.

Havoc waited until they were alone in the driveway to say, “It’s the Hughes family.”

Ed hated himself the entire way to Maes’s house. He hated himself for having a nice night out
while the Hughes were attacked. He hated that Maes came seconds from dying and that
Gracia and Elicia—

Ed closed his eyes and tilted his head back, fists clenched in his lap. When he opened his
eyes, they would be at the Hughes’s house, and his family would still be safe. They had to be
safe. There wasn’t another option.

That was what Ed kept repeating to himself, but he knew it wasn’t the truth. Maes had called
Mustang’s house. When no one answered, he’d called the office. Hawkeye had picked up and
immediately sent Havoc out to find Mustang. As far as Havoc knew, Gracia and Elicia were
still missing.

Oh, and Gerard fucking Homunculi had stepped in at some point to fight off his apparently
shape-shifting beast of a brother, Envy.

Ed took as deep a breath as he could, but with all the anger and fear pooling in his lungs, it
felt more like drowning.

“We’re here.”

Ed was out of the car almost before it stopped moving. Maes stood out front with Greeling,
who seemed as tall, imposing, and bored as ever. Maes’s shoulder was bleeding. Gracia and
Elicia were nowhere to be seen.

“Maes!” Both Maes and Greeling looked up from their conversation—if it could be called
that—and focused on Ed. While Maes’s attention fled to Mustang, Greeling’s remained
fixated. “Maes, where are Gracia and Elicia?”

“Daddy!” Everyone’s attention but Greeling’s swung around to see Gracia and Elicia running
around the side of the house toward Maes. Martel, Roa, and Dolcetto followed at a much
more sedate pace.

Maes rushed past Ed to scoop up his daughter and hug his wife. Ed couldn’t hear what was
being said, but he would bet they were words of gratitude and love. Ed’s stomach started to
resettle as relief flooded his system, but he couldn’t shake the terror over what could have
been.

Greeling hummed, and even that sounded smug. “Didn’t think I’d let them become chimera
chow, did you?”

Before Ed could process his own anger, he’d crossed the yard and punched the bastard across
the face. Greeling’s head moved to the side from the force but appeared otherwise unharmed.
Ed immediately curled his fists in Greeling’s stupid jacket-vest and yanked him down to eye-
level.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” Ed’s anger skyrocketed as Greeling’s lips
stretched in a shit-eating grin. He tightened his grip on the vest. “There’s no way in hell you
just happened to be in the neighborhood when this shit went down. How did you know to
come here?”

Greeling leaned even closer. “Lucky guess?”

Ed yanked on the vest, their faces close enough for Ed to see the charcoal flecks normally
lost in the storm of Gerard’s eyes. “If you think I won’t kick your ass from here to Ishval,
you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Greeling tilted his head and studied Ed, like looking closely enough would give him all the
answers. Eventually, he murmured, “A lackey of my brother’s is a lackey of mine.”
“The Führer? He’s behind this?” As much as anger was Ed’s primary reaction, guilt was what
overwhelmed him. This was what Mustang had warned him about. This was the Führer’s
retaliation. “You knew? You knew and didn’t say anything?”

The smile on Greeling’s face slipped into a displeased frown. “Well, I don’t generally make a
habit of getting in Brad’s way, remember?”

“Then why show up here?”

“Maybe I found my reason.” And for the first time, Greeling’s expression was neither
arrogant nor bored.

Ed stared him down for a few moments more before releasing the taller man’s vest and
shoving him away. There was something about Gerard’s stare that unsettled Ed. Something
intense that he didn’t quite understand.

Mustang stepped into the conversation as soon as there was room. “Where’s Envy?”

Greeling looked to Mustang with far less interest. “You mean what’s left of him?”

“You killed him?”

“Call it unavoidable. If there’s one thing Brad likes less than failure, it’s public failure.”

Ed didn’t really understand that part as the Führer could have publicly blamed everything on
his brother and gotten off squeaky clean. But everyone else seemed to get it, so he assumed it
had something to do with politics. Mustang gave them both a very serious look before
nodding to Maes and making his way inside the somewhat ruined house. Ed checked to make
sure Maes, Gracia, and Elicia were still safe before pushing past Greeling to follow Mustang.

The first thing Ed noticed was that Envy’s eyes were wide open. They stared at the ceiling
and drew Ed’s attention to slightly parted lips. As though Envy still wanted to say something.
As though his crushed chest could still hold enough air to allow him to speak.

No, Ed had never liked Envy. That didn’t change his two main thoughts circling around the
fact that someone he saw every day was now dead and that an older brother was the one
who’d killed him. Ed might’ve been able to understand if it was the conscienceless Führer,
but Greeling was the one who’d done it. Greeling—mostly a douche but also an okay guy—
had killed his little brother.

Ed couldn’t imagine ever laying a hand on Al.

He left the house without sparing Mustang a glance, heading again for Greeling. “You said
you wouldn’t let them become chimera food. What did you mean?”

“Exactly what I said—”

“Where’s the chimera now?”

Greeling’s brows rose as he absentmindedly played with the fur of his vest. “How should I
know?”

“It’s behind the house. It was set up to attack the girlies when they tried to sneak out, but
Gerard was a step ahead and the beast bit off more than it could chew.” Dolcetto rattled off
the facts like rehashing the details of an old story. Ed went to the backyard, making sure to
keep his eyes away from the Hughes family in case his path strayed to them instead.

He was the reason they were in this mess. He couldn’t face them without a plan to fix it. Or at
least the beginnings of a plan.

The chimera wasn’t in the clearing of the Hughes’s technical backyard, so Ed headed into the
forest behind their home. The woods were deep but not particularly thick—likely a wildlife
preserve. Ed found the chimera’s corpse a dozen meters into the woods, bulky body sliced
clean in half.

The chimera’s eyes were open, just like Envy’s had been. They looked like Envy’s eyes, too,
aside from the color. This thing had human in it.

Ed hated that he felt more numb than sad. Unlike seeing Nina splattered across a wall, seeing
whoever this was with their torso separated from the rest of the body just made him feel cold.
He checked the teeth—two rows, probably a shark or something—then the pointed ears. It
didn’t have claws, but its paws were large and heavy enough to do damage on their own. It
had course fur that felt oily, and Ed wondered if this thing’s original purpose was to stalk the
waters.

He took note of the lack of downward slope between the chimera’s eyes and nose as he ran
his hand over the back of its neck. It had more vertebrae than necessary, which Ed assumed
was done in an attempt to make up for the neckless animals’ physical composition.

Ed looked at the eyes again before making his way to the front yard. Those eyes had
belonged to someone once. If not for Greeling and his goons, any or all of the Hughes family
could have ended up the same way.

“Ed!” Elicia ran over to Edward when he re-entered the front yard, tears in her eyes as she
gripped his cloak. “Ed, I was so scared!”

Ed crouched and hugged her tight. He held her to his chest and rested his chin on top of her
head. She cried into his shirt. His heart broke as the tears soaked through. When she was
finally ready to pull away, he held her even closer, keeping her pressed to him for a full
minute longer.

When he could control his own tears, he placed his hands on her biceps and put enough
distance between them to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, El. I should have been there, and I
wasn’t. It won’t happen again.”

“Edwa—”

“It won’t. Do you hear me? I’m going to keep you safe.”
Elicia looked frightened by the seriousness of his tone, but she nodded.

Ed stood, picking her up in the process, and walked over to Maes and Gracia. He wanted to
tell them he was sorry he’d let this happen. He wanted to say that he shouldn’t have been
slacking off and fooling around while they were in trouble. He wanted to because he knew if
he did, they would reassure him that it wasn’t his fault and that everything was okay. They
would remove the blame from his shoulders, and they would remind him that he was a part of
the family, not a bodyguard.

Which was exactly why he couldn’t say it. Not until this was sorted out and not until they
were really, truly safe.

“Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine, Ed.” Maes smiled, one hand still pressed to his bleeding shoulder. Doubtlessly
trying to lighten the mood. “We made it out a lot better than our house.”

Gracia stepped in with a serious frown. “Edward, I know that look. You can’t take this
personally. None of this is your fault. And even if it were—which it isn’t—we’re all safe.
That’s what matters.”

“I know. I know. Can you tell me what happened?”

Maes stopped forcing a smile. “We were eating dinner when we heard the window break in
the other room. I sent Elicia and Gracia upstairs, and if they heard anything or I didn’t join
them within five minutes, they were to go out the window and get to Roy’s. I saw what I
thought was Gracia, so I lowered my gun, and by the time I figured out it wasn’t her, she’d
disarmed me. Or, he had. Gerard stepped in before Envy could kill me. From there it was
Gerard and Envy who were fighting. I left them to go search for Gracia and Elicia. By the
time I came back down, Envy was as you saw him.”

Maes’s intense gaze traveled over to Greeling before moving back to Ed, and the blonde
assumed there was more to the story that Maes didn’t want third parties overhearing.

Gracia chimed in with her side of the story. “As soon as we heard the shot go off downstairs,
I got Elicia out of the house. That thing you saw in the woods was waiting for us. I tried to
get Elicia back inside, but it was too late. Fortunately, we weren’t alone. Dolcetto knocked it
away from us. After that I—I looked away. But the sounds . . .”

Elicia pushed her head against Ed’s chest at her mother’s description. He petted a hand down
her back.

Gracia continued, “The sounds were awful. When they finally stopped, these three escorted
us elsewhere. They said they would take us back when it was safe.”

Roa joined their conversation from across the yard. “Gerard said to give him an hour.” He
sounded nonchalant. Bored.
Edward glared. “You mean to tell me you finished off the chimera and left? Maes could have
been in trouble.”

“Listen, Eddie, Gerard was in there. He—”

“What if Gerard had needed you?”

(***Intertwined***)

Roy would know that tone of voice anywhere. It was Fullmetal’s righteous, how-dare-you
voice that he used every time something went against what he considered to be an integral
part of morality. Roy stepped out of the house, into the backyard in time to see Edward ask,
“What if your precious boss had needed your help?”

Roa scoffed. “Dealing with Envy? He wouldn’t lose if—”

“It’s one thing if you weren’t a fighter or if there were still danger for you to run from. I agree
that one or maybe even two of you should’ve stayed with Gracia and Elicia, just in case, but
all three? All three of you being fighters, being alchemists, knowing your friend could be in
danger and walking away?”

Roa crossed the yard, teeth bared, and Fullmetal’s grip on Elicia visibly tightened.

“If he were actually in danger, we’d have been there.”

“No, you’d be taking a stroll down the street, assuming he was fine.”

Roa leapt forward, intent to attack clear. Before Roy could do anything—anything that
wouldn’t put the Hughes family in danger—Fullmetal had turned to shield Elicia, crouched,
and positioned his hand to clap the ground.

A sharp, “Roa!” froze all action. Gerard coolly continued, “Check your temper. I don’t feel
like saving you when you get in over your head.”

“But he—”

“Could kick your ass any day of the week. Now back up.”

Roa reluctantly did as told. Edward stood and handed Elicia over to Gracia. When he turned
around, his eyes met Roy’s. The blonde was furious.

Edward’s voice sounded both clipped and blank as he asked, “Can we get them out of here?”

Can we. Edward had never asked for permission before.

Roy nodded. “Take them to our house. Help them get settled in. I’ll join you when I can.”
Fullmetal’s fists clenched and unclenched, then he nodded.

Maes stepped towards his house and, by proxy, Roy. “Let me get my keys.”

Gerard strode in the opposite direction, toward his crew.

Roy stopped him. “We’re going to need you to stay for questioning.”

Gerard looked over at Roy as he passed, hands stuffed in his pockets and bored distaste
painting his face. “But not your boy and his sweetlings?”

“We know where to find them.”

“And Brad knows where to find me.”

“The Führer isn’t a part of this investigation.”

Gerard flashed a wolfish smile. “Isn’t he?”

As if on cue, the contamination and interrogation squads showed up. The Führer was with
them. “Gerard. How pleasant to see you again.”

“Brad.”

Gerard walked away, and the Führer let him. Him and all three of his friends. The only direct
witnesses.

The Führer turned to Roy, both hands folded behind his back. “You all should go home as
well. It’s been a tiring night, and you no doubt need your rest.”

Führer King Bradley was smiling kindly. Roy hated him even more.

“I’d prefer to stay on the case.”

Roy stepped as close to rejecting the Führer’s order as his rank would allow, and Bradley’s
smile twitched into something genuine. “My men will update you on what we find.”

They both knew there was no room for argument. “Yes sir.”

Roy got back into his car, just as frustrated as Fullmetal. Once the medics finished patching
up Maes’s arm, the Hughes family piled into the back seat and Roy drove home. He was glad
he’d at least told Havoc to head home rather than to Maes’s place. His assumption that they’d
need to keep the number of people obviously involved to a minimum turned out to be
irritatingly correct.

The drive home was silent, even Elicia knowing it wasn’t the time to speak. When they
reached the house, Edward said, “You guys take my room.”

That was it. No smiles to Elicia or angry rants about the Führer. Maes looked as though he
wanted to protest but most likely saw that his wife and daughter needed the bed more than
the Edward. That, or he recognized that arguing with an Elric was a waste of time.

Normally, Maes would sit with Roy and quietly discuss the events over coffee. Tonight,
nothing could separate him from the family he’d nearly lost. The library door shut between
Roy and the Hughes family, and Roy returned to the kitchen. Fullmetal was on the living
room floor, papers and books already strewn around him.

Roy lit the fire with a quiet snap. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Golden eyes never left the page, and a gloved hand never stopped scribbling.

“Fullmetal, you couldn’t have stopped this.”

No response.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything that happens.”

No response.

“Edward—”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault or not. What matters is preventing it from happening in the
future.” But Edward’s voice lacked its usual passion. Instead, it was serious and unmoving.
Political.

It didn’t suit him.

Roy walked over to the young man on the floor. In Edward’s notebook was a half-drawn,
complicated alchemic circle that Roy couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Golden eyes rose, surprise coloring them brighter than usual. Roy would fight to keep that
light there—to stop Edward from becoming just as angry and tainted as the rest of the
military.

And the first step in that fight was showing Edward support, no matter the situation.

Some of the anger, some of the pain, traded out for uncertainty. Edward went back to his
drawing. “No.”

Roy, knowing there was nothing he could currently do to change Fullmetal’s mind, turned
and walked away. He didn’t even pause at the quiet, “Thanks though,” if only to stop himself
from spending the rest of the night reading on the couch.

A good portion of the night was spent awake anyhow, though looking over files on his bed.
The early hours of the morning arrived before Roy departed for the realm of sleep. By the
time he made his way back downstairs, Fullmetal had gathered more books and crumpled
more papers but otherwise left no evidence of having moved from his spot.
Edward looked up, saw that Roy was ready, and started selecting the worthy papers and
books to take with him. The phone rang, and Maes came down the stairs with Gracia and
Elicia as Roy answered.

“Mustang residence.”

“Colonel Mustang! So glad I caught you in time.” Roy tensed as the Führer’s voice came
through the line. “I just wanted to let you know that last night’s little mishap has been taken
care of. The Hughes’s home was repaired by the best structural alchemists we’ve got, and
everything can and should return to normal.”

“What about the chimera?”

“It’s been taken care of. Have faith, Colonel.”

Through gritted teeth, Roy responded, “Of course.”

“Right, now if there are any more problems like this—any questions or concerns—you let me
know.”

“Good day, Führer.”

“Good day.”

Roy hung up the phone even as the Führer spoke. Bradley was attempting to shove all of this
underground. To take away Roy’s authority over the chimera case.

The man causing the chimera situation in charge of ending the chimera situation.

Roy would rather die.

“Roy?”

“He says your house is fixed and to forget about last night.”

Maes grinned his family-man grin and scooped Elicia off the floor. “You hear that, sweetie?
We can go home!”

“Hurray!”

As Maes spun his daughter around in circles, he shot Roy a meaningful look.

Maes had been deep into the Führer’s business before, but it was nothing compared to what
he’d do next. What the Führer had failed to realize was that messing with a Hughes—any of
them—wasn’t a mistake from which one could recover.

(***Intertwined***)
Three days had passed since Gerard killed Envy. Three days since Armstrong had dismissed
the class to take personal time. Three days since Russell’s life had spiraled downward. And
on the fourth day, he had to give up whatever pride this situation hadn’t taken by force. In
Armstrong’s class, alone, he watched everyone else watch him. Every single one of them
stuck on the fact that he was Envy’s partner. He had lived with Envy. Spent time around
Envy. Must have known what was going on.

And who would believe otherwise?

So, as he stood in front of the class, everyone but Elric staring him down, he didn’t bother
explaining his innocence. Instead, he explained his situation.

“I’ve been staying with Envy for a few weeks now. Because I was staying with him, the
school gave my dorm room to someone else. They can’t fix me up with a new one for another
week.” Russell turned his eyes to the ground for a moment before raising them to show
courage he didn’t feel. “I don’t care not to have a place, not usually. But my brother’s coming
to visit tomorrow, and he needs somewhere to sleep. It’s only for a few days, and you really
only have to house him, so if someone would . . .”

Russell trailed off. They were still just staring at him. Staring and waiting for the fountain of
gossip to keep spewing.

“Mustang.” It was the last voice Russell expected to hear. “Let them have my room.”

Silence permeated the classroom for seconds that felt like hours before Roy responded.
“Alright.”

Just like that, Russell and Fletcher had a place to stay. He would be a guest in the house he
had originally dreamed of thanks to a man who had yet to take his eyes from his goddamned
books.

Russell sat down in his usual spot next to Roy, unsure of what this did to his rivalry with
Elric or his place on the proverbial totem pole. His world had tumbled, and Russell had
tumbled with it.

After class, Russell got in the back of Roy’s car. He relaxed only slightly when they dropped
Elric off and drove to what was once Envy’s apartment. They gathered up his two large
suitcases and a duffel bag, all filled to the brim with either clothes or knickknacks.

Russell had been poor before, and he didn’t like the feeling. Material things helped him
remember he wasn’t in that position anymore.

Roy didn’t seem to mind. Simply loaded them in his car and took them to his house. The
small talk on the way there was meaningful. They spoke of why Fletcher was coming and
how Russell was fairing. And though Russell knew Roy considered the conversation little
more than menial chatter, to him it was gold. It’d been a long time since Roy had paid
attention—really paid attention—to Russell, and the blonde missed it.
 The house was even better than Russell had imagined. It was large and elegant yet cozy. It
was well-decorated and felt like a home, the only thing out of place being Elric sitting in the
middle of the living room, surrounded by books and drawing something. Roy moved toward
the stairs, but Russell hesitated.

“Thank you.”

Elric ignored him.

“For giving me your room, that is. Are there any things in there you want me to avoid or—”

“I already got my stuff out.” Elric canted his head toward a deflated black duffel that Russell
hadn’t even noticed hidden among the books. “And don’t mention it.” Piercing golden eyes
glanced up for a second of a second. “This is for your brother.”

At that, Russell really did relax. It was hard to accept kindness on his own behalf. Kindness
for Fletcher was another matter entirely. He followed Roy up a staircase to a library with a
bed in it. It looked just as impeccable as the rest of the house (ignoring the living room) and
Russell chuckled somewhat nervously.

“He’s so messy that I half-expected this place to be a wreck.”

“It usually is.” Roy’s tone was flat. Russell moved inside to sit his things down. Roy
followed suit. “I have to go to work, but feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.
There’s a half-bath downstairs and a shower in my personal bathroom, though I’d prefer you
wait until I get home to enter my room, if at all possible. If there’s anything you need, just
ask Edward.” Roy looked Russell over once more before moving to leave. “I’ll see you
tonight.”

And that was it. Roy had other things to do, and Russell . . . well, Russell had to call his
brother.

Chapter End Notes

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my newsletter, feel free to visit [Link]! Have a wonderful day!
 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The morning after Roy agreed to let Russell stay in his home, Edward was the first one
awake. He was sitting at the table, knapsack ready beside of him, reading a singular book by
the time Roy came downstairs. There wasn’t even a notebook in the other hand.

“Morning, Fullmetal.”

“Can we stop by Maes’s place first?”

Fullmetal hadn’t seen the Hughes family since the night with Gerard and the chimera. He
hadn’t spoken to Gerard in the same amount of time.

“We can, but if we want to catch them before they drop Elicia off at school, we’ll have to
hurry.” The soft sound of bare feet padding down the stairs had Roy looking over his
shoulder.

Russell stopped at the bottom of the steps, hair still wet from his shower. “Morning.”

“Mornin’.” But Fullmetal’s dull greeting was said on the way to the car, and any sincerity it
had was lost.

Russell was more reserved than usual, entirely unsure of his place in this unfamiliar
ecosystem. Roy neither blamed him nor made any attempt to help him feel more comfortable.
He had much more important things to worry about than the good impression of one teen.

Roy followed Edward to the car, waited the scant few minutes it took for Russell to join
them, and drove the familiar route to Maes’s house. He hadn’t visited since checking for
surveillance days beforehand. When they reached the house, Maes and Gracia were holding
hands with Elicia, walking to their car as though they hadn’t been terrified of losing one
another less than a week prior.

Maes halted his walk when he saw Roy’s car, apprehension for bad news deadening his eyes.
His smile never faltered. He waved as Roy pulled off the side of the road. Fullmetal was the
first to leave the car, Roy and Russell quickly following.

“Edward!”

Elicia let go of her parents’ hands and ran to hug Edward, who lifted her into a tight hug.
Maes questioned Roy with his eyes, and Roy responded in much the same manner that he had
no idea. Elicia’s gasp of delight drew their attention back to her and Fullmetal.

“Pretty!”
She had something in her hands that Roy couldn’t discern, and Edward grinned as he lowered
her to the ground.

“You think so? Because . . .” Fullmetal drew out the ‘because’ as he reached into his jacket
pocket and withdrew a necklace with a small red-swirled gold gem on it. “This one’s for
you.”

The little girl squealed as she grabbed the necklace from him, staring at it for no more than a
few seconds before shoving it over her head. She squealed again, gripping the gem as she
hopped up and down.

“Ah, hey hey. It’s a special necklace.” He carefully peeled her hands open so that the gem sat
in the crevice of her palms. “I made it to keep you safe. You see, your necklace matches my
necklace, and when I hold it lightly . . .” Edward curled his hand around his own necklace.
Elicia’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open in amazement. “Yours will feel warm. And if I
grip it even tighter . . .”

“It’s really warm!”

“That’s right. And mine reacts the same when you hold it. If you hold it, I’ll know. You only
grip it extra tightly if you’re in trouble though. If you need me, you just hold onto this, and
I’ll come help.”

Elicia stared at Fullmetal with just as much awe as Roy felt before looking down at the
necklace. She turned and walked over to Maes, watching the gem the whole time, before
gently taking it off and holding it up to her father.

“I want Daddy to have it.” She glanced back at Edward. “You can keep my daddy safe,
right?”

Roy didn’t have to look to see the entwined sadness and love splashed across Maes and
Gracia’s faces.

Maes crouched. “Sweetie, I—”

“I have one for him, too. Him, Uncle Roy, and your mom.” Edward removed three more
necklaces from his pocket. One had a blue-swirled gold gem, one had a silver-swirled gold
gem, and the last had one of each. “If something happens to your daddy, he can contact both
your mom and Uncle Roy, and they can contact him. They’ll be safe.”

Just like that, Elicia was shoving her necklace back over her head and dancing around.
Fullmetal walked over to the rest of the adults, giving Maes the necklace with two gems,
Gracia the one with blue swirls, and Roy the one with silver swirls. They all put the
necklaces on.

“You guys heard how it works, ri—”

Gracia tackled Ed in a hug. “Oh, thank you!”

Edward chuckled awkwardly. “No problem. I couldn’t live with myself if something
happened to any of you.”

But Gracia wasn’t ready to let go yet, and Roy thought she might be near tears. When she did
release him, Maes slung his arm over Edward’s shoulders and pulled him in. Maes’s grin was
wide enough to hurt, and he pressed his face into Edward’s hair in a quick thanks before
letting go.

Fullmetal smiled, for the first time in days looking like he might actually be able to relax.
“Now, we’ve got to get to class, and I don’t want Elicia to be late for school, either.” He
turned to Elicia. “And remember, if you’re in trouble, you . . .”

“Hold my necklace extra tight!”

“Yes ma’am. Now be good in school today, alright?”

Edward ruffled Elicia’s hair and nodded to Maes and Gracia, who looked much lighter than
when they’d first arrived.

“Thank you, Edward.”

“Thank you, Edward!”

“Thank you, Ed.”

All three thanks came simultaneously. Maes reached up to touch the gems of his necklace,
causing warmth to spread across Roy’s chest. Almost equally astounding was the amount of
warmth that stayed when Maes let go. The gem itself made Roy feel . . . happy. They were
back in the car less than a minute later.

Russell twisted around in his seat to look at Edward. “How did you do that?”

“Core alchemy.”

“You have an Energy Core. You can’t do Core alchemy.”

“Tell that to my Core.”

Russell hesitated, glanced at Roy still marveling over his new jewelry, and gently corrected,
“I’m not saying what you did isn’t impressive. I’m just saying it couldn’t be Core Alchemy.”

Powerful golden eyes glanced at the rearview mirror, and Roy had no doubt that what
Edward claimed was true. Core Alchemy only required power and control, and Fullmetal had
both in spades. Unfortunately, that power had to come from the Core itself. If the blonde
cared to keep up his charade of having a weak Energy Steel Core, he would need to stop
acting on anger and impulse.

Roy’s eyes met Edward’s, and the Colonel reinforced his belief that, at least sometimes,
manipulation was a necessity.
“I’ve got to side with Russell on this one. The fact that you have an Energy Core can be
overlooked, but even Alphonse would have a hard time performing Core Alchemy, and his
Core is much stronger than yours.”

Fullmetal’s teeth bared, but his only verbal reaction was a terse, “Yeah, whatever.”

They drove to the school in silence. When Edward got out of the car, he slammed the door
behind him. Only after he was well out of ear-shot did Russell quietly ask, “Who’s he trying
to impress?”

With just as much falsity as seventy-five percent of his other statements, Roy replied, “Who
knows?”

(***Intertwined***)

Gerard didn’t love nice things. He loved enviable things. He loved things that made him feel
just as expensive and unattainable as he was. He loved the knowledge that he could have and
do whatever he wanted, and he loved making sure everyone else knew it, too.

The one thing in his life that seemed to go against that fact was red-clad and standing on the
other side of his desk. Edward Elric. The hot-headed, prodigious, almost overly-attractive
State Alchemist was the only thing Gerard wanted and wasn’t entirely sure he could have.
Unlike the others, when Ed said no, he wasn’t playing coy or hard to get. He honest-to-
goodness didn’t care about Gerard’s looks or money or power, even when Gerard wanted him
to.

“Teach me.”

Gerard raised a brow, silent.

Ed clarified, “You said you could up my chances against the chimeras, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

Golden eyes narrowed in a glare. “Then do it.”

Gerard looked past Ed to see a rather protective—rather jealous—looking Colonel entering

the room, and his lips tilted in an arrogant grin. “What’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

Gerard let his mind wander along with his eyes. He wanted a lot of things. He wanted
Edward’s obtrusive jacket to stop hiding what was sure to be enticing automail. He wanted to
have an intelligent conversation that ended in making out, at minimum. He wanted a sincere
thank you for willingly putting himself in Brad’s crosshairs. He wanted crème brûlée.
Gerard met intense obsidian eyes over Edward’s shoulder, and his mind was made up.

“Kiss me.”

Gorgeous lips twisted in a snarl, and Gerard decided he would be throwing physical combat
into the lesson plan. If dancing with Ed was fun, a fist-fight would be glorious.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“C’mon now, Ed. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of kissing before.”

Gerard kept his eyes on Ed’s lips the whole time, waiting for them to purse and agree. It
would be a soft kiss, embarrassed and quick. Something that Ed would be trying to curtail
every step of the way. He would hesitate at the last minute before giving in and—

Surprise hopped in Gerard’s chest as Ed reached across the desk, curled his fingers into white
fur, and yanked Gerard forward. The first thing Gerard noticed was the edge of the wooden
desk digging into his abdomen. Then chapped lips pressed forcefully against his own in a
tactless, clumsy, butterfly-inducing kiss. Edward just as forcefully shoved him away a few
seconds later. It took Gerard’s spine colliding with the back of his chair for him to realize it
was over.

Gerard raised his brows in mock-surprise. “You really think one kiss is enough to sate me?”

“The deal wasn’t to sate you. It—”

“—was to kiss. You should really work on your pick-up lines. I’ve heard this one before.”
Gerard felt a sprinkle of something genuine—something other than egotism or mischief—
intrude on his smile. “So let’s call it Sunday at 6:30. Meet me at the library. And if I were
you,”—Gerard ran his eyes suggestively down Ed’s body—“I’d ditch the cloak.”

“Sunday? Why not tonight?”

“I have plans tonight. And tomorrow night, for that matter. I don’t have any plans on Sunday,
but I really hate waking up in the mornings. I don’t think I’ll feel like doing anything until
after dinner.”

The frustration and irritation that flooded amber eyes hit Gerard like a shot of adrenaline.

“Fucking fine. Sunday. But you’d damn well better be on time.”

Ed angrily moved to his seat, and Gerard took pride in the fact that said seat was still beside
him. Almost as much pride, in fact, as what he got from seeing Mustang’s face afterward.

Gerard rewarded the look of calculation and distrust with a dazzling grin.

(***Intertwined***)
Ed didn’t see what the big deal was. So he’d kissed Gerard. Mustang would’ve kissed him,
too, if it meant keeping Maes or Elicia safe.

“You aren’t listening to me. It’s bad enough that the Führer is after you. There’s no need to
get mixed up with the rest of the Homunculi family, too.”

Ed glared at Mustang, who had all but demanded they have a meeting in his room, and
wished that Namae hadn’t said basically the same thing. “Greeling is an asshole, but he isn’t
bad. And if I get in over my head, I’ll kick his ass and—”

“It’s not that simple. Gerard has been living under the radar for as long as I can remember,
and not to sell cookies. Whatever he’s peddling, you don’t want it.”

“Yeah? And who are you to say what I do and don’t want?”

Different calculations and manipulations flew through Mustang’s eyes before coming to an
abrupt halt as he turned around and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not the enemy here,
Fullmetal. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why? So that you can be the one to kiss me next time? It’s all about you in the end, isn’t it,
Colonel?”

Mustang turned around with an anger in his eyes that Ed hadn’t seen in a very long time.
“You really think this is about some stupid kiss? Gerard Homunculi is a wild card who just
killed his own brother to save a family that, before this, he had never met. Does nothing in
that sentence strike you as odd? Tell me, Fullmetal, how is it that you can be so brilliant when
seeing through my manipulations and so stupid when it comes to Gerard’s?”

Ed’s grimace turned to a growl, temper taking hold. “Maybe because he’s not manipulating
me. Unlike you, he’s straightforward with what he wants. He doesn’t twist people around his
finger to get something, he just goes out and gets it. And it’s none of your goddamn business,
but maybe that’s how he’ll get me, too.”

When Ed stormed out of the room, he slammed the door behind him. When he passed Russell
in the kitchen, he ignored the younger man’s existence. When he went outside, the
conversation replayed itself in his head, as righteous as it was vindictive.

By the time he got to the park, he’d accepted Mustang may have had a point.

Did Gerard use straight manipulation? No. Was his recent string of activity incredibly out of
character? Yes. And worse, Ed had used Mustang’s feelings against him in one of the lowest
ways possible.

“Shit.”

Whether out of a genuine need to clear his mind or sheer embarrassment, Ed didn’t return to
Mustang’s house until after midnight. There were three pairs of shoes at the front door, so Ed
assumed picking up Fletcher had been a success. He added his boots to the line-up, sat on the
couch, and tapped his fingers on his knee twice before reminding himself that Mustang rarely
actually went to sleep before two.

Bullheadedness being the only convincer that he shouldn’t wait until morning, Ed padded up
the stairs to Mustang’s study. Light shone through the crack under the door. Ed rapped his
knuckles against the wood with barely audible force.

“Come in.”

Mustang looked neither surprised nor pleased to see Ed. Ed was both surprised and
displeased to see his notebook sitting in front of Mustang.

“Are those my notes?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t be speaking to me until after your little meet-up with Gerard, and at
least one of us needs to be working on the chimera case in the meantime.”

“What happened to you not wanting me on the case?”

“What happened to you not listening to me?”

Ed rolled his eyes and threaded his fingers into his bangs, eyes trained on the ceiling as he
tried to retain his sanity. “I—” He took a deep breath. “I came in here to say I’m sorry. So I’m
sorry. Good night.”

“Fullmetal.”

Ed turned back to Mustang with equal parts irritation and tiredness.

“There’s new information on the chimera that attacked the Hughes.” Mustang paused, a
certain fatigue entering his eyes as he gauged Ed’s body language. “It had human in it.”

“I kind of figured.” But Mustang’s lips thinned into a near-pitying line, and Ed prepared
himself for the worst. “Who was it?”

“Sheska.”

Ed’s heart plummeted into his stomach. Sheska was supposed to have been visiting her
parents. She’d been so excited. Alive.

“Goddamn it.” Ed curled his hands into fists, and he had to restrain himself from putting a
hole in Mustang’s door. “Goddamn it!”

Anger and frustration filled Ed until he felt suffocated. Why did all the good people have to
die?

Sheska’s smile flashed through his head. Then Nina’s. His mom’s.

“She liked you, you know? Liked to talk about you.” Ed refused to look at Mustang as he
spoke. “She thought your smile and hair and eyes were great, but what she loved was your
political platform. She’d gush about it every time I went to the library. Maybe . . .” Ed
uncurled his fist to stare at the creases in his glove. “Maybe if she’d lived long enough, she’d
have gathered up the courage to tell you that.”

“Maybe.”

Gold met black. Ed snarled, “I’m going to find who did this.”

“We.”

“What?”

“We’ll find who did this. You aren’t alone.”

Despite the comforting words and soothing tone, Ed’s anger flared. “Yeah. I’ve got the
military at my back, causing this whole thing.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then clarify. Who exactly is going to help me? You? Your team? Maes? Greeling? Are you
going to drag my brother down here again and—”

“Could you reign in your temper for one second and listen to me? You storm out of here
because you’re angry, come back because you realize you acted rashly out of anger, and
attempt an apology just to get angry again. It’s not a logical progression.”

Ed sneered, hating that Mustang had a point. He crossed his arms in a huff and said nothing.

Mustang continued, “Yes, I’m here for you. And my unit is at your disposal. We’ve gone over
that. Maes is doing everything he can against the Führer and his sect of the military. Now if
you could just stop shoving my mistakes in my face every chance you get, I would be—”

“Shut up.”

“No, Fullmetal. I—”

“You’re damn well fed up with me doing whatever I want. I get that. I’m not great with
authority, and you’ve got this thing about staying constantly authoritative.” Ed stared
Mustang down, the urge to leave it there doubling by the second. He plowed on. “I know
you’re trying to help, alright? I know you’re all trying to help. I know I can count on
you. That’s the problem. The more people get involved in this, the more people are available
to die in the crossfire.”

Ed wished he had chosen to stare at a spot above Mustang’s head. The sheer amount of
understanding that burst into obsidian eyes made Ed feel like Mustang could see into his
fucking soul.

“That’s why you work alone.”

“Yeah.” Ed’s mouth felt dry. His tone was terse. “That’s why I work alone.”
“Edward, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity! You’ve been alone, and you’ve done well on your own, but you don’t have to
do that anymore. None of us are going to run off and die any time soon.”

“Tell that to Sheska.”

“Fullmetal. Fullmetal, can we have an actual conversation?”

“We can try, but everything that comes out of your mouth makes me want to kill either
myself or you. Usually you.”

“Why are you so insistent on hating me?”

“Because you’re a bastard.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Everything you do drives me fucking insane.”

Mustang made a fist in thick black locks, lips twisted in a condescending sneer. “Well it isn’t
on purpose, Edward. I’ve been trying my damnedest to accommodate you, your whims, and
your seemingly endless mood swings. If you’d be so kind as to tell me what I should do
instead of getting needlessly angry at my attempts to help, that would be fantastic.”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “Are you angry? The hell gives you the right to be angry? I’ve been
staying out of your way for everything except helping with the chimera case.”

“Out of my way?” Mustang’s hands hit the desk as he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ve been
bending over backwards to make you comfortable while you stare at your books and
complain about my existence.”

“You? Bending over backwards?”

“Me. Bending over backwards.”

“Name one time.”

“Making the library into a bedroom. Keeping your equally willful brother in the house while
you fought a chimera. Making sure you ate after the Hughes were attacked. Letting the
Tringhams stay in my home. Covering for your naivety concerning Gerard. Need I go on?”

“Fuck you, Mustang. You can’t blame me for decisions you made.”

“They’re decisions I made for you.”

“And why the hell would you even bother?”

“Because I like you! How someone so god-forsakenly smart can be so blindingly stupid is
beyond me.”

“You like me. You like me. You keep saying that, but I don’t think you understand what it
means. So get this through your head: I’m. Not. Likable. I’m not nice or attractive or
personable. I’m stubborn, I get angry easily, I cuss a lot, and once I get on a topic I like,
everything else pretty much melts away. I’m not someone you want to spend forever with.
Hell, I’m not someone you can spend forever with. Now get over this dumb obsession with
conquering me or whatever the fuck this is and go bond with the first political princess that
strikes your fancy.”

Pale lids closed tightly enough to crinkle as Mustang’s upper lip curled. A second later, his
hands left the desk and long legs strode toward Ed. Before the blonde could even think about
making a snarky comment, Mustang’s hands curled into Ed’s cloak and their lips connected.
Pleasure seared through Ed’s body, forcing him to moan. His chest felt warm. His head went
fuzzy with desire.

Mustang’s tongue barely had time to trace his bottom lip before Ed’s mouth opened in a
warm invitation. As Mustang’s tongue pushed into Ed’s mouth, his body pushed Ed against
the door. Elegant fingers traced Ed’s torso with light yet intense touches, practically shoving
his cloak off to feel mismatched shoulders.

For a moment, Ed was consumed with the feeling of perfection. That perfection heightened to
toe-curling, hand-trembling, white-lighted beauty as their partial bond grew stronger, and Ed
promptly grabbed the front of Mustang’s uniform to forcibly knee him in the stomach.
Mustang let go of Ed and took a step back, coughing as he caught his breath.

“You knew. You fucking knew! How long have you known?”

“Edward, wait.”

“You figure out my Core and the first thing you try to do is bond with me? Who the fuck do
you think you are?”

“The first thing? Edward, I’ve known since your fight with the chimera. And I wasn’t trying
to force you into bonding. I was trying to prove a point.”

“And you think that was the best way to do it?”

“No! That’s just it, Fullmetal. I didn’t think! When I think, I line things up and manipulate.
This is what happens when I don’t control the scene.” Mustang turned away from Ed, fingers
fisting in black locks before he twisted back around. “It’s not like I just up-and-decided,
‘Hey, why not fall for the stubborn, single-minded, oblivious, emotional rollercoaster of a
prodigy? That sounds fun.’ I didn’t choose to like you. Believe me, going after literally
anyone else would be weight off my shoulders. Unfortunately, I like chasing after you. I like
watching you work and making sure take care of yourself. I adore seeing you fumble in the
kitchen and perform complicated alchemy like it’s child’s-play. I enjoy dealing with your
family and supporting you as you stand up for what you believe in. I like you.”
 Ed stared at Mustang, the words circling in his head and warming his bones.
Mustang did know him. He knew about Ed’s Core, and he’d found out about
it after confessing. After confessing and without changing how he acted towards Ed.

Now the only problem was the fact that Mustang was, well, Mustang. He was egotistical and
strong-willed. He manipulated everyone and everything. He apparently fell apart when
manipulation left the equation. More than that, he was a politician and a military man. Any
life with him would involve Ed’s life getting tangled up in those fields, too.

The Colonel certainly liked Ed, but Ed wasn’t so sure he liked the Colonel.

“I need to think.”

“Edward—”

“Just give me some time, alright? I’ll give you an answer when I’m ready.”

Mustang stared him down and nodded, no doubt trying his hardest not to plan a way to sway
things in his favor, and Ed wondered if there was such thing as a right answer.

Chapter End Notes

I'm officially a published author! If you'd like to check my original works or sign up for
my newsletter, feel free to visit [Link]! Have a wonderful day!
 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Roy hated a lot of things. He hated waking up early to allow time for the two extra guests in
his house to shower. He hated that the dream he’d woken up from involved Fullmetal falling
willingly into his arms. He hated that he knew Fullmetal’s kisses were better in reality than
they were in his dreams. More than that, he hated Fletcher and his constant spew of praise for
Russell at six in the goddamn morning.

“ . . . it’s so awesome that you let us stay with you after the thing with Envy. Russell wasn’t
really meant to be there anyway, you know?” Fletcher talked with his mouth full. Roy hated
that, too. “He’s one of the best alchemists I’ve ever met, and I’m not just saying that.”

The only things Roy got from Fletcher’s never-ending stream of babble were that he had a
brother-complex and that he knew about Russell’s crush on Roy. Neither facts were useful.
When Edward finally walked into the house—Roy had no clue where he’d ran off to after
their mildly-intense conversation and kiss—Roy learned a third fact. Fletcher had heard
Russell complain about Edward.

“Hey, you’re the guy who’s always trying to best Russ, right?” Fletcher pointed at Edward
with a limp, half-eaten piece of toast.

Edward ignored the boy entirely. “Mustang, where’s the notebook you had last night?”

“In my office.”

Fullmetal went up the stairs without another word.

Fletcher turned back to the table. “Rude much?”

Russell shrugged. “He’s always like that.”

“I can see why you don’t like him.”

Russell and Fletcher shared a look, and Roy’s patience cracked. His home was not meant for
teenagers’ idle gossip.

Edward came back down the stairs a minute later, flipping through the complex theories like
they were nothing. “Did you get to my notes on Core alchemy?” He walked to where Roy
stood with a practiced ease, letting the Flame Alchemist know that he was over—or at least
okay with—what had transpired the night before.

Some of the tension Roy had been carrying bled from his shoulders. “No. I got stuck around
your theory on separation alchemy.”
Edward’s brows rose, giving Roy the knowledge that he considered it one of his easier
theories. “. . . Huh.” He continued staring for another few seconds, likely contemplating
whether or not to explain that, too. Eventually, he went back to the notebook. “A few pages
after that, I start in on Core alchemy. In my notes, I mainly stuck to how Cores are identified
and the process of tapping into the Core for alchemic purposes rather than using it only as a
funnel. Because a Core is just a bundle of energy connecting you to the energy of the world,
you’re obviously absorbing and expelling alchemic energy all the time—whether you mean
to or not. Right?”

No part of that had been obvious to Roy, but he understood well enough to nod.

Edward continued, “Right. So, imagine the energy you’re expelling is like DNA and—”

“And it leaves behind an identifiable residue.”

Edward grinned wide enough to make pride well in Roy’s chest.

“Exactly. And if we can identify that residue and trace it back to a particular source, we
should also be able to set up a perimeter of sorts. One that tells us if particular Cores have
entered a particular area. The residue fades pretty quickly—within an hour or two—but it
would let us know for sure—”

“If people we don’t like have been in an area we don’t want. That’s brilliant, Fullmetal.” It
would certainly give them a leg-up on the Führer front. If they could tell when the man was
too close for comfort—or who had been in the area around the time a chimera was released—
they would gain exponential ground in the chimera case. “How did you come up with this?”
Roy caught sight of their captive, if not slightly confused, audience as Edward opened his
mouth to respond. Roy cut him off. “Actually, I need to get to work. Tell me later?”

Fullmetal caught the drift and nodded. He turned his attention back to his notebook, stole a
piece of toast, and moved to the living room.

Once he’d gone, Fletcher asked, “What was that about?”

Russell hid his embarrassment in a shrug. “Something about Core alchemy being like DNA
or . . . something.” He looked over to Roy, who was personally glad that neither blonde was
smart enough to keep up with Edward’s fast-paced explanations. Russell continued, “It’s
probably for their Theoretical vs. Practical Transmutations class, and I haven’t had that yet.”

Fletcher nodded, apparently considering it a perfectly reasonable excuse for not being able to
keep up.

Roy patted his pocket for his keys and headed to the garage. “You can call me or ask
Fullmetal if you need anything. I’ll be back tonight.”

Roy gave the Tringham brothers no more thought as he vacated his home. He needed to get to
the office, clue Maes in on what he had learned—Roy reached up to touch his necklace,
knowing the pleasant warmth that would spread through Maes’s chest—and pour over
whatever information his team had gathered on Sheska. How she had gone missing. What all
animals had gone into her chimera. How she’d died.

Long as his morning had been, it was nothing compared to the day ahead.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed had spent the majority of the previous night wandering aimlessly through backstreets,
thinking over everything Mustang said. Everything he now knew.

Mustang liked him—really liked him—and was someone Ed could actually bond with. He
liked listening to Ed’s theories and tended to catch on relatively quickly. His praise, scarce as
it was, made Ed’s stomach do pleasant flips. The problem was that Ed couldn’t tell whether
anything he felt was real or a byproduct of his Core. When Mustang had strengthened their
bond, it stayed strengthened. It made Ed feel warm inside even now, hours after the fact.

Did Ed like the way Mustang made him feel or the way his Core made him feel?

After hours of walking, the only conclusion he’d come to was that social interactions weren’t
his forte. He would need someone else’s opinion, and the only thing he could do in the
meantime was stop acting like a damn coward and interact with the Colonel as a person. A
person who happened to twist his Core into knots and wanted to lead him down a path of war
and politics.

God it was hard not to be biased.

Ed frowned as his attention was drawn back to his transmutation circle, well-aware that it
wouldn’t do what he wanted in its current state. If he added concentration runes, he would
know when someone entered the specified area, but it would take away from the who and
leave them with no way to ignore approved persons.

“ . . . aren’t as great as you think.”

Ed blinked and looked up as a voice broke through his musings. Fletcher was standing in
front of him, hands fisted on his hips and lips twisted into a frown.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Ed returned Fletcher’s confidence with a blank stare. This happened sometimes. He would be
too consumed in his work to realize what was going on in the outside world. Assuming from
Fletcher’s condescending pose that he hadn’t missed anything important, Ed looked back to
his notes.

If he readjusted the phrasing, it was possible he could—

“Don’t ignore me!”

Ed looked up again, more than a little exasperated. “What?”

Fletcher flinched at Ed’s rough demeanor, and Ed noticed for the first time that Russell
wasn’t in the room.

“I—I said I don’t like the way you treat my brother like he isn’t there. He’s a great alchemist,
and just because you got us a place to stay—which isn’t even yours—you act like you’re
better than us! Russ’s life was awesome until you walked in and took everything he wanted.”
Fletcher’s eyes narrowed, petulant and disapproving. “Roy was going to pick him before you
came along, you know.”

There was a bitterness that Ed immediately recognized as jealousy—the awareness of what

others had that he didn’t—and Ed wondered what this kid had been through to covet the little
that Ed had obtained.

“I can’t help that he picked me.”

“That’s a lie. You must have done something. Otherwise Russ would’ve been—
he deserved to be—”

“Don’t waste your breath, Fletch.” Russell stepped into the room, arms crossed. “Roy chose
him, and that’s all there is to it. Besides, he’s the kind of guy who’s always gotten what he
wanted. He wouldn’t understand.”

Russell dismissed the conversation with a few short sentences. Fletcher, however reluctantly,
nodded. Russell gave Ed a look that was neither apologetic nor condemning, then returned to
the kitchen. Fletcher followed eagerly behind. After half a minute of staring at the empty
doorway, Ed scoffed.

Always gotten what he wanted. Right.

He went back to tweaking the transmutation circle without sparing the oblivious brothers
another thought.

(***Intertwined***)

“Edward. What a pleasant surprise.” Maes smiled as he tossed an arm around Ed’s shoulders
and guided him into his office. When the door shut behind them, he pulled out his wallet. “I
bet you’re here for a few photos of my darling Elicia. The pictures from the ball just came
back, and she is absolutely—”

“He knows about my Core.”

Maes looked Ed over, searching for some sign of how Ed felt about the revelation. Fatigued.
Resigned. Maes took his time re-folding his wallet, thoughts flitting over how to respond.
He’d known Ed would catch onto the fact that Roy knew sooner or later. What he wasn’t sure
of was how either of them had reacted.

Maes tested the waters with a simple, “Are you sure?”

Ed snorted derisively. “Yeah, I’m sure. Fucker tried to bond with me for a second there.”

Maes’s brows rose all the way to his hairline. Well, that hadn’t been what he was expecting.
“But he stopped when you told him to?”

“He stopped when I introduced my knee to his gut.”

Fair enough.

“How do you feel about him knowing?”

Ed looked off to the side, staring determinedly at the wall as he tried to sort out his emotions.
Maes leaned against his desk as he waited.

“I don’t want to be some political tool.”

“Roy considers everyone a political tool. That doesn’t mean you aren’t a person, too.”

“I don’t want to be a military dog.”

“Are you sure? The military isn’t all life-on-the-road and killing chimeras. There’s always a
job open for you in the intelligence department.”

Ed blinked twice, brows raised, as though he hadn’t considered the military being anything
outside of what he’d already experienced. Maes wondered why the eldest Elric was looking
so hard for an excuse to stray from Roy’s side.

When Ed failed to respond, Maes continued, “There are also plenty of people in the military
with bondmates outside of the military. Gracia, for example. You could be a teacher. Or a
theorist.”

“He could never love me.”

“Oh?”

“He likes me now, but I’m still new and interesting. In a couple of years—maybe months—
he’ll get caught up on some other pretty face, and I’ll be stuck. We both have . . . you know.
There’s no un-bonding for us.”

“How can you be sure?”

Ed threw his hands up in frustration, clearly unable to believe Maes was asking such a
ridiculous question. In that motion, Maes saw the deep-seated self-hatred and inability to
expect anything but the worst-case scenario.

“Because that’s what he does! You’re his best friend. You know how he works. There’s a
week of living the high-life and being showered in attention, and there’s the rest of your life
to reminisce over that perfect week and what could’ve been. I’m not stupid, Maes. I know
what he wants from me, and I know how I’ll feel once he’s finished.” Ed ran his hand
through his hair, pushing his bangs back against his scalp, and looked Maes in the eyes. He
didn’t look sad or desperate, just tired. “I didn’t come to ask if I should accept him. I came
because I want to know how to turn him down.”

Maes smiled, sure that was what Ed thought he wanted, and said, “Give him a chance. One
date.” Ed’s expression turned exasperated, as though that was the last thing in the world he
wanted to hear. Maes decided to give him the extra push he needed. “Look, Ed, you’re a
genius. So you’ve got to know you didn’t come here for advice on how to turn him down. If
you really didn’t want him, you’d tell him to get lost like you’ve done a million or more
times before this.”

“No! I don’t—I don’t like Mustang.”

“No?”

“I just don’t hate him anymore, either.”

And there is was. Maes smiled and moved toward Ed, using a gentle hand on a metal
shoulder to guide them both toward the exit.

“One date. That’s my advice.”

(***Intertwined***)

Gerard bought a seven-course meal, a new pair of gloves, a new pair of boots, a very
expensive haircut, a bottle of champagne, another bottle of champagne after he finished the
first one, a new vest (which looked the same as his old vest, only more expensive), and a new
pair of knuckle-dusters the exact same shade of gold as Edward’s eyes.

He’d claimed to have plans because he liked the way Ed looked when angry, but his need for
instant gratification was regretting it. Saturday had been fun (wining and dining and
fucking a lot) and Sunday had been tortuous (buying tons of things he didn’t need in an
attempt to fill the void of boredom in his chest). And finally—finally—it was time to meet
the blonde haired, golden eyed minx who taunted his every daydream.

Gerard said, “You’re early.”

Gerard was early, too, of course, but Ed didn’t seem to notice that. In fact, if Gerard had to
wager a guess, he’d say the blonde was too far buried in his books to notice much of
anything. He raised his voice.
“I thought I said to ditch the cloak.”

Gerard was louder and closer. Ed didn’t react at all.

“I was actually thinking we could forget about making you stronger and just fuck. That
alright with you?”

Not even a twitch.

Gerard chuckled, taking the moment to just look at Ed. Then he strode closer, admiring the
way blonde bangs made curtains for golden eyes and the fact that Ed didn’t have to look at
his notebook to write in it (though he probably should’ve, as it was nowhere near legible).

“Ed?”

Gerard stopped an arm’s length from Ed. He crouched down to get a better look at the way
amber eyes focused on the book. Ed’s concentration was all-consuming, and Gerard decided
he liked the way the blonde could block out the world. Gerard could relate to that sort of
tunnel-vision, and he enjoyed the thought of startling Ed out of it in various, sexual ways.

Gerard reached forward, fingertips barely brushing the ends of blonde bangs before a strong
hand came up and gripped his wrist. Hard. If Gerard’s skin weren’t so tough, it may have
even bruised him.

Gerard liked that, too.

Gerard made a show of moving out of Ed’s personal space, and Ed released his wrist without
a fuss.

“How long have you been there?”

“A few minutes. How is it I’ve never noticed how hot you are when you’re reading?”

Ed closed his book, stacking his notebook on top of that as he stood. “I’m here to get
stronger, not to amuse your sick sense of humor.”

“Are those tasks separate?”

Ed scoffed, and Gerard grinned as he guided Ed to his car. The blonde followed without
saying anything, apparently already having figured out that they wouldn’t be staying at the
library. Ed was neither impressed nor unimpressed by Gerard’s car (the latest on the market),
and Gerard wondered if there was anything he could buy that would impress the alchemist.
Books, probably. His grin widened as he sped down the road, not paying the slightest
attention to the speed limit.

He'd never bought a library before.

Gerard drifted into his overly-large driveway and shut off the car. Ed looked expectedly
unimpressed by his mansion. Gerard led him through the entryway, down multiple hallways,
and into a sparring room.
Blonde brows scrunched together. “We’re fighting?”

“Unless you’re too scared.”

A frown tugged at Ed’s lips as the confusion left his face. Instead of responding, he set his
books on the floor and shed his cloak and gloves.

Gerard took a moment to catch his breath. He’d imagined Ed’s mismatched body parts would
be tantalizing, but that didn’t even begin to describe it. The overlarge cloak had hidden not
only the material of his arms but the firm musculature under his flesh. It’d downsized broad
shoulders and downplayed the confident, powerful posture that dared someone to go against
him. Ed had looked good in a suit, but this—this was brilliant.

Gerard tossed his glasses onto the pile of red cloth and followed Ed to the middle of the
room.

“Well?”

“Hit me.” Gerard patted his stomach. Blonde brows shot up, more surprised than unwilling.
Gerard’s grin widened. “G’head. I can take it.”

Ed didn’t need to be told a third time. He widened his stance, raised his fist, and slammed it
into Gerard’s abdomen. While Gerard felt no pain from the hit, he certainly felt the force
behind it. He made a show of not reacting as he tilted his head, silently questioning if that
was all Ed had. Ed, in return, growled and hit him again. Harder. Then once more, even
harder than that. A fourth time with his automail, forcing Gerard to take a stumbling step
back.

“The hell are you made of?”

But the question was rhetorical, and Ed wasted no time in hitting him again. Three punches
and a roundhouse kick after that, Ed was off-put enough to want an answer. Well aware that
he and Ed were about to get a lot closer and loving the anticipation of it all, Gerard slipped
off his vest.

It’d been a long time since he felt this interested.

(***Intertwined***)

When Greeling pulled his shirt over his head with an unnecessary flourish, Ed wanted to roll
his eyes. He probably would’ve if not for the unnatural blackness of Greeling’s torso.

“The fuck?”

But Greeling only grinned. Ed took that as permission to investigate himself. He closed what
little distance was between them and crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet to maintain
eye level with Greeling’s stomach. It was startlingly black, fading only around the edges of
his abs. Ed reached forward and ran his flesh fingers over the middle of the blackness. Taut
abs (Greeling could no doubt give as good as he got) tensed under his touch, but Ed ignored
that in favor of pressing down. It didn’t feel like flesh. It felt more like stone.

Greeling wasn’t made of stone though. To affirm what Ed was (mostly) sure he knew, Ed
moved to press against Greeling’s side. Flesh molded to his ministrations as flesh should,
then white became black and his side felt like stone, too. Ed tilted his head as he lowered his
hand, resting both forearms on his knees.

So, it was controllable. That made sense, seeing as Greeling had no way of knowing where
Ed—or anyone else—would hit him. It begged the question of what, exactly, his skin was
becoming though. Hard like rock, but unscathed from Ed’s hits. Ed had broken rock before.
He hadn’t been hitting Greeling as hard as he could, no, but he was hitting hard enough to
leave marks. Even rock would’ve been scratched.

Which meant Greeling wasn’t turning himself to stone. It had to be something else—
something that felt like rock, only harder. And if this was alchemy (What else could it be?), it
had to be something with materials found in the human body. Ed shifted so he could press his
hand flat to Greeling’s stomach, brows furrowed in concentration. The black beneath his
palm vanished.

Ed looked up to see Greeling grinning down at him. Ed took that as his cue to stand and put
space between them.

“Like what you see?”

“You’re transmuting your skin. I thought you couldn’t do alchemy.”

“I’m capable.” There was a dark humor in Greeling’s voice that said Ed was missing
something.

Ed narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out what. “How?”

Greeling’s grin said that was for Ed to figure out on his own.

Ed sneered. “If you aren’t going to show me how to do that, what are we here for?”

“A good talk, a quick spar, and a long fuck. Not necessarily in that order.”

Ed stared at Greeling, unsure if the man was serious or not, before catching on. The spar was
to see what Greeling’s shield-skin could take. What Ed would be able to take once he could
do that. The talk was for when Ed figured out what, exactly, Greeling was doing. And the
fuck . . . Well, Ed was sure Greeling would have sex with him at the drop of a hat, so that was
probably in the “as soon as you consent” category.

Suddenly, Ed’s grin matched Greeling’s. He flexed his fist, the barest hint of a warning, and
charged.

He had been wanting a good spar.

 (***Intertwined***)

By the time Ed got back to Mustang’s house, it was nearing eleven o’clock. He was tired,
sweaty, and above all-else, hungry. Mustang and the Tringham brothers were, surprisingly, all
at the dinner table. Ed huffed as he realized that now was the prime time for a shower and
resigned himself to waiting a little longer to eat. He moved to his duffel bag, groaning when
he found all the clothes inside (save a pair of sweatpants) were dirty.

His stomach growled as he picked up the duffel and slung it over his shoulder, knowing this
side-trip to the laundry room only could only mean going even longer without food. Ed
dumped everything but the clean pair of sweats into the washer, then stripped and added his
current clothes, too. Once he started the wash, he donned his sweats for the short walk to the
bathroom.

Mustang’s room was as impeccable as ever, and Ed tried to ignore how heavily it smelled of
the Colonel. When had he become sensitive to things like that?

His shower was quick (anything standing between him and food needed to be quick), and Ed
barely had enough patience to run a brush through his hair before heading back downstairs.

When Ed entered the kitchen, conversation stopped. Both Tringham brothers stared at him.
At his mismatched arms in plain view, at his mismatched toes poking out from under his
sweats, at his scars. Mustang piled what looked like some type of curry onto a plate.

The Colonel gave Ed a quick once-over, no doubt taking in things he hadn’t seen before, then
focused on Ed’s eyes. “I figured you’d be hungry, so I saved you dinner.”

“Thanks.”

Ed didn’t mind when people stared. People always stared. That didn’t mean he wasn’t
grateful when people weren’t staring. Mustang—stupid, observant, brilliant Mustang—
somehow knew that and was making a point of not looking at Ed’s less-than-perfect body.

In the back of Ed’s mind, he wondered if the Colonel still liked him after seeing what he
usually kept hidden. In the middle of his mind, he sorted through different books that might
help him figure out what Greeling’s skin was made of. In the forefront of his mind, he was
just hungry.

Mustang’s food smelled great, and Ed didn’t waste time with greetings as he pulled a chair
out and dug in. Rice and lamb and vegetables. Warm and filling with just the right amount of
kick. He hummed in appreciation. After a minute or two, Russell cleared his throat. Ed
looked up but didn’t stop eating.

“Is that why they call you . . . you know, Fullmetal?”

“Guess so.”
“So you really took out a chimera?”

“Apparently.”

“And you’re a real State Alchemist?”

“Looks like it.”

Fletcher and Russell appeared equally disgruntled by Ed’s flippant answers, but it’d been a
long day. Ed wasn’t really in the mood to go over his life story.

Fletcher puffed his chest out, pretending courage. “Show us your watch.” The challenge was
both flimsy and pretentious. The reasoning behind it was clear. Fletcher didn’t want to accept
that the person “competing with” his precious brother was really someone so famous.

Ed frowned as he finished his food. “Listen up ‘cause I’m only going to say this once. I don’t
give a fuck whether you think I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist or some fake off the streets. As
far as I’m concerned, you’re a couple of kids playing some stupid game for the affections of a
crowd you neither know nor understand. I don’t want any part of it. You want to talk about
me behind my back? Go for it. You want to fight me? Say so. But stop this chicken-shit act
where you’re going to discredit me or whatever the fuck else you’re trying to do. I have more
important things to concentrate on than your bruised egos.”

Ed held Fletcher’s stare for as long as the younger blonde could handle it. Once Fletcher
moved his gaze to the floor, Ed looked to Russell. The elder Tringham had an equally hard
time meeting Ed’s eyes. Seeing that neither of them wanted to rebut his claim, Ed stood from
the table and put his dishes in the sink. He rinsed off the food residue before walking to the
living room and retrieving his books. Before he could make his way up the stairs, Russell
found his voice.

“We can’t just take things for granted like you can. We’ve done so much—lost so much—and
for what? You to waltz in and render it all null? We have an apartment in our hometown. We
have jobs and food and friends, but it wasn’t always like that. Someone like you who’s only
ever seen the streets from your golden-boy perch could never understand how we feel. So tell
me how we’re supposed to sit back and accept that the Alchemist of the People—someone
who’s supposed to care about everyone—is a bastard like you?”

Ed paused, hand on the railing as he looked first at Russell, then Fletcher, and finally
Mustang. He wanted nothing more than to say “How indeed?” and walk away. But then
Mustang would have to sit through their bitching. It’d be Mustang’s house that was full of
stress and tension, and Mustang would be the one to suffer for Ed’s actions. Ed sighed and
tugged his fingers through thick wet locks, hating that he’d told Mustang to house them in the
first place.

“I have a brother named Alphonse. Our dad left us when we were little, and our mom died
shortly after that. I lost my limbs when I was eleven, joined the military when I was twelve,
and have been traveling the country killing chimeras ever since. I’ve lost friends and family.
I’ve slept in the streets and watched people rip each other apart for stupid, useless fucking
things like money and power. I don’t have a home. I don’t always have food. Hell, I burned
my childhood home down to make sure I wouldn’t have anywhere to run back to if things got
too tough.

“You’re right that I don’t know where you’re coming from, and you’re right that I don’t care.
Maybe you had it rough as a kid, but you said it yourself that things are better now. So stop
bitching about what’s happened to you and move on. Make it better. Stay the same. I don’t
give a damn what you choose, but choose. Because believe it or not, neither Mustang nor I
have time to listen to your petty fucking whining.” Ed turned his gaze from the white-as-a-
sheet Tringham brothers to Mustang. “I’ll be in your study. Meet me whenever’s convenient.”

This time when Ed went upstairs, no one stopped him.

(***Intertwined**)

Russell hated the knowledge that Elric wasn’t lying. Russell had just lost this round and any
future rounds involving the Alchemist of the People. Because Elric (Edward?) did know
pain. He knew what it was like to suffer and struggle and claw for survival, and he knew
what it was like to protect someone else while doing so.

“Shit.”

“Do you really think—”

“Yeah.” Russell cut Fletcher off, wondering how he was ever going to be able to face the
humiliation of apologizing for everything he’d said and done over the past few months.

As if reading his thoughts, Roy said, “He doesn’t want an apology. He wants you to shape up.
You’ve come a long way in this world, but you’re still young, and there’s a long way to go.”

Wise words from a wise man. Russell swallowed thickly before meeting Roy’s eyes. “We’re
never going to get together, are we?”

“No. We aren’t.”

The rejection stung, but not nearly as much as he’d thought it would. “I thought as much. I
just needed to know.”

Russell wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the signs even before Roy had picked Edward for the
bonding exercise. There had been flirting and banter and just plain attention that Russell
never received. And seeing them interact in a household setting had only served to hit that
observation home. The way they talked to each other about things Russell didn’t understand.
The way they not only kept up with each other but challenged one another. The way they
stuck up for each other even when the other person was there to do it for himself.

It was everything Russell wanted, and it was time to stop trying to steal that happiness away
from someone else.
“C’mon, Fletch. Let’s go to bed.”

“But Russ . . .”

Russell shot Fletcher a look, letting him know that it was okay. That he was okay.

Fletcher nodded. “Alright. Goodnight, Roy.”

“Night, Roy.”

“Goodnight.”

Russell didn’t look at Roy as he stood or even when the Colonel returned his farewell. When
he got to the library and changed into his pajamas, he took a second to marvel at the weight
off his shoulders. He’d been battling with himself for weeks now over whether to fight for his
crush or give in to the competition, and it felt good to have made a decision. Especially since
Edward (much as Russell hated to admit it) could best him in everything.

Academics, worldliness, military power, political sway, and (judging by the clear outline of
his abs) brute strength were all things Russell had no hopes of standing against. Now he
didn’t have to.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Russ? I know how much you liked him.”

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Russell didn’t have to think about his answer.

“I’m sure.”

(***Intertwined***)

Edward was in Roy’s study, at Roy’s desk, in Roy’s chair, reading a book like he belonged
there. His hair was tied back in a messy pony-tail, and he was still shirtless. Intelligent eyes
zoomed across the page, and for once, there were no notes being taken.

For a moment, Roy’s mind filled with images of Edward genuinely belonging there. Living
with Roy and feeling comfortable enough in their home to take up as much or as little room
as he wanted. Then the moment passed.

“Fullmetal?”

Edward looked up as Roy shut the door, but he didn’t move from Roy’s spot. “I just wanted
to finish our conversation about Core-sensing alchemy.”

Roy nodded and took the seat in front of his desk that Maes usually occupied.
Fullmetal said, “You asked how I came up with my theory, and the thing is that I didn’t mean
to. I was thinking about Sheska’s chimera and what must’ve gone into it. Shark, wolf, otter,
and human.”

Roy wanted to balk at how accurate Edward was at identifying chimera parts.

Edward, oblivious to Roy’s inner turmoil, went on. “That’s when I realized her Core was
likely intact. Then I thought about what we would need to track down the next chimera, and
it came to me. We already know the Führer is behind the chimera attacks. All we need is
something to link him to them.”

“He’d never get his hands dirty by physically creating a chimera.”

“No, but he’d visit wherever they’re actually making them. He’s not sloppy enough to trust
others with an operation this big.”

“So you’re saying we hone in on the Führer? People he’s been in contact with recently and
whether or not they come around our hot-spots.”

“Exactly. I’ve got to sort out a few more details first, but I want to implement this around
your house, the houses of everyone in your unit, Maes’s house, and if there’s anywhere else
you think is pertinent . . .”

“Can you do Central Command?”

Fullmetal’s grin told him that was well-within the realm of possibilities.

“Oh, yeah. I can even piss off the Führer in the process.”

Roy’s lips twisted into a frown. “Fullmetal, I think you should be doing your best to get off
the Führer’s radar, not jump on it.”

“I’m not backing down, Mustang, but I promise to let you in on what I’m doing before I do it.
Besides . . .” Edward leaned back, looking for all the world like the Führer was the one
picking a fight out of his league. “He’ll twist it around to make himself look better and think
it’s me who’s slipped up. He’s too damn proud to think he can be bested by me.”

Edward met Roy’s eyes, all confidence and calculation, and Roy wondered just how
dangerous an opponent Fullmetal would be if he bothered to apply himself to politics.

Fullmetal continued, “You’re a different story though. Any involvement you have would
make him wary, so you’ve got to make sure you’re somewhere else when it goes down. The
press will hound you, his men will watch you, and you have to make sure they think you’re
just as shocked as they are.”

“What are you planning?”

“I’ll let you know when I’m about to do it. For now, I’ve got to focus on the formula to get it
working. I’ve created three transmutation circles with everything we’ll need. All that’s left is
to combine them.”
Roy’s lips twitched at how easily Edward talked about creating and combining circles.
“While you work on that, I’ll focus our forces more heavily on the chimera situation. I’m
sending Havoc to check out a few places with unreported missing animals tomorrow, and
Falman is creating a geographic profile from the locations where chimeras have cropped up
thus far. The attacks were targeted, so the chimeras must have been transported somehow.”

Edward’s brows rose, making it obvious he hadn’t thought of that. “If we find the car that
transported them—”

“There’s no guarantee, but we’ll certainly be closer.”

Dark emotions flashed through Edward’s eyes. Roy could guess what they were about.
Sheska scared and alone in the back of a van. Edward, unaware of the perpetrator parked
yards away from him and his family. Nina and her dog.

Edward stood, apparently finished with the discussion, and Roy stood with him.

“Get some rest, Fullmetal.”

Instead of an offhanded “Whatever,” or a casual “Fuck off, Mustang,” Edward met Roy’s
eyes. He walked the meter and a half to Roy and took a deep breath.

He said, “Go on a date with me.”

Roy blinked, sure he had misheard, and failed to answer in what Edward deemed an adequate
amount of time.

Edward stepped back and waved a hand in dismissal. “Or don’t. You know, never mind.
Forget I asked.”

“No!”

Edward blinked, looking just as shocked at Roy’s outburst as Roy felt.

Roy cleared his throat, attempting to regain some composure, and corrected, “I’d love to go
on a date with you. I was just under the impression you’d rather jump out a window than do
the same.”

Fullmetal pursed his lips and looked off to the side, attempting to cover his embarrassment
with irritation. “Yeah, well I figured I can’t really make an accurate judgment over whether or
not I like you without going on a date or two, and . . .” Edward muttered something
inaudible.

Roy raised his brows. “And what?”

“And Maes said to give you a chance, alright? He knows you better than anyone else, and I
figured if getting to know you was a bad idea, he’d warn me away. I was just—you said you
like me and for the first time I actually believed it, so I wanted to figure out if it's something
more than the partial bond making me, you know, feel things.” Edward glanced up at Roy, a
heavy blush dusting his cheeks, and bared his teeth. “I know what you’re thinking, and the
 answer is fuck you. We can’t all have gone out with half of Amestris, and I wanted to gather
information before rushing in blind.”

Like it was a battlefield instead of a date. Like Roy’s instinctive reaction would be to make
fun of Edward for going to Maes instead of thinking over what gift would be extravagant
enough to show his appreciation. And if Roy’s voice dipped low when he responded, barely
more thana purr of seduction, he couldn’t be blamed.

“No, I’m glad you asked him. I would be honored to take you on a date, Fullmetal.”

If possible, Edward’s blush darkened. He fidgeted with the loose material of his pants before
uttering a harsh, “Try not to fuck it up,” and walking out the door.

And as Roy stood alone in his study, he thought for the first time that he might be in love
with Edward Elric. Edward, who was more than beautiful. He was strong and resilient. He
was smart, knew his strengths, and refused to take any bullshit. In a world of politics, lies,
and working with people who prayed for Roy’s downfall, Edward was a breath of fresh air.

If Roy was out of line, Edward would say so. If Edward didn’t like something, he would say
so. If he was excited or irritated or fed-up or proud, he would say so. Roy didn’t have to
constantly be on the look-out because Edward would spell it out in no uncertain terms.

Edward had been through hell. Roy had read enough reports, heard enough stories, and now
seen enough scars to know that for sure. His skin was torn, his hands were stained, his
conscience was burdened, and Roy could understand all of that because he was the same.
Fullmetal was his equal. They could keep each other grounded and complement each other’s
weaknesses. They could survive together, thrive together, and if not make the world a better
place than at least make it a safer one.

Roy had never been in love before, so he couldn’t say for sure that it was what he currently
felt, but it had to be close.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“How are they getting along?”

“Better than expected. It looks like Mustang knows.”

Führer King Bradley raised both brows, mildly surprised the Colonel had finally caught on to
the elder Elric’s Core type. “Should we expect they’ll be bonding soon?”

“I doubt it. Elric is too stubborn to give in and Mustang is too chivalrous to force it.”

Solaris leaned against the wall. Her arms were crossed under her chest, drawing attention to
her ample bosom. Lust was a fitting nickname for such a well-endowed woman, and she used
her looks to her advantage. Fortunately for the Führer, he had no interest in petty things
like lust. Not for humans anyway.

Blood, maybe.

Power, definitely.

“And Gerard?”

Solaris’s smile curled at the question. She knew Gerard’s free-spirited rebellion was a rough
spot for Bradley. Gerard was strong, smart, and terribly good at politics, even if he didn’t
show it. While Gerard’s allegiance was always a fickle thing, it was also coveted. For
someone else to have won that over Bradley . . .

“They’re quite close.”

It was hard to say whether that was true or if Solaris just felt like pushing his buttons.
Bradley nodded regardless. Any connection between the two not described as “distant” was
unpleasant.

“Break them apart.”

There was no how or why because Solaris was hardly better at sticking to orders than Gerard.
She would complete her task, but she would go about it as she saw fit.

She nodded, amused smile never leaving plump, perfect lips. “Of course. Is there anything
else you would like, Führer?”

The Führer King smiled and shook his head. “You may go.”

Solaris left, and Bradley idly pondered Gerard’s reasoning for going against him. Bradley
was stronger and faster. While his blade may not be able to slice Gerard, his influence could
take away all the nice, pretty things Gerard loved. Just what was it about Edward Elric that
made people fall over themselves to take a bullet for him?

The Führer stilled, smaller details working themselves out in his mind even as the
overarching plan formed.

A bullet.

(***Intertwined***)

When Roy dropped a beautiful box on Maes’s desk, the information specialist was curious.
When he stepped back, Maes noted the new suit, dry-cleaned pea coat, haircut, and all-
around increase in confidence. When he opened the box and found an expensive, utterly
beautiful dress that little Elicia would look gorgeous in (more gorgeous in, she looked
gorgeous in everything), he knew that Ed had taken his advice and agreed to go on a date
with Roy.

Because Roy so rarely had good news to share—news that Maes’s occupation wouldn’t have
given him anyways—Maes pretended not to know.

“What’s the special occasion? Are you planning on taking my beautiful Elicia to a
photoshoot? Because we did that last weekend and she was spectacular. Everything she does
is—”

“Fullmetal asked me on a date.”

Maes took a moment to admire the pride that Edward’s interest had inspired in Roy and
another moment to feel thankful for the genuine happiness radiating from his best friend. He
raised his brows and gave a low whistle, unable to bite back a smile.

“Really now?”

“You should’ve seen it. He was blushing the entire time, and I know Fullmetal isn’t very
good at being civil, but I never thought I would find cursing so cute.”

“He insulted you while asking you out and still got a yes?”

“Of course. I’m coming to find that the more embarrassed Edward gets, the more outlandish
he becomes. He actually believed I would mock him for going to you for advice.” Roy’s eyes
sparkled with mirth, letting Maes know exactly what the Colonel thought of that conclusion.
“He was worried that I would say no and full of enough self-loathing to deny himself the
chance I would say yes. You convinced him otherwise.”

There was no underlying meaning behind Roy’s words, no innuendos or codes. Only
gratitude. It was brash and real and rare.
Warmth bloomed in Maes’s chest. “Oh, I don’t know if I did that much. He’s the one who
approached me to talk about you. I just nudged him in the right direction.”

“What did he say?”

Maes’s smile faded a little, aware that the carefree part of their conversation was already
drawing to a close. “He thinks your attentions are fleeting and it’ll be a week of bliss and the
rest of his life to regret it.”

Roy’s lips twisted into a grimace. “How? I’ve been chasing after him for years.”

“And introducing every other pretty face to your raging libido in the process. Politically,
you’re an eligible bachelor. Romantically, you’re a flight risk.”

The way Roy glanced to the left told Maes that the Colonel, however reluctantly, agreed.
“How do I convince him otherwise?”

Maes’s brows rose as he hummed. “I’m not sure.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the all-knowing master of love?”

Maes chuckled. “If I could give you all the answers, I would. Unfortunately, the world’s done
a lot of damage to Ed’s self-image and ability to trust, and you’ve done a lot of damage to his
image of you. Mending that won’t be an easy job, especially with his patented
unpredictability.”

“Fantastic.”

Sarcasm aside, Maes knew that Roy was thankful for the knowledge. Maes grinned and
leaned his forearms on his desk, encouraging conspiracy.

“So, what do you have planned?”

(***Intertwined***)

Ed looked at his wardrobe, realizing almost for the first time that he had nothing worthwhile
to wear. The most impressive clothing he owned was the three-piece suit Winry had picked
out for him, and the next-best thing was what he was currently wearing—black pants and a
sleeveless shirt. There was nothing in-between. Nothing slightly dressy or mildly impressive.
Nothing he wouldn’t wear to the gym.

Would wearing the suit make him look desperate? How dressed-up was too dressed-up, and
what message would dressing in anything other than his normal outfit send?

Ed sighed as he shoved everything back into his duffel and stood, well-aware that he was in
over his head. He made his way to the kitchen, glancing around even as he assured himself
that Mustang was at work and the Tringhams were out to lunch. He dialed one of the two
numbers he knew by heart.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Al. How are you doing?”

“Brother! I’m . . .” Al paused.

Winry’s voice came through the line, distant enough to be in the background but still loud
and clear. “We have to tell him sometime.”

Al continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I’m very, very well. We are, actually. That is to
say, both Winry and I are doing well. Extra well, that is. Because, well, we came home after
the ball and there was this cat—”

“Are you two dating or what?”

Ed could practically hear Al’s blush. After a long, pregnant pause, Al muttered something
unintelligible.

“What?”

“I said we’re bonded! Geez, Brother. If you’d just let me tell you the story about the cat and
how it gave me the courage to ask Winry out, I would have gotten to it.”

Al’s words came out in an embarrassed rush, but Ed’s mind was still reeling from the quick
progression of their technically new relationship.

“You’re already bonded?”

“It . . . We didn’t plan on bonding. It just sort of happened. I asked her out, and she kissed
me, and I kissed her, and we felt so close, and her Core felt so close, and I reached out, and
she leaned in, and, well, here we are.”

“Here we are, huh?”

“Brother! You know how long I’ve wanted this. And she wanted it, too, which I still think is
crazy and amazing and wonderful and—You were the one who called me. You should be the
one talking.”

Ed’s grin faded, well-aware he was about to face the same embarrassment he had bestowed
upon his brother. “Right. I need you not to jump to conclusions.”

“Of course not.”

“Because it’s not what it sounds like.”

“It usually isn’t.”

Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Better to make a fool of himself in front of Al than
Mustang. “I asked Mustang on a date.”

Silence permeated the other end. More silence. Then: “You asked him?”

Ed scratched the back of his neck and shifted his weight to the left. “Yeah. He was a fucking
douche about it, too. But Maes said to give him a chance, so . . .”

“Maes is his best friend. Of course he wants you to give Mustang a chance.”

Ed hesitated. He glanced around again despite there being no way anyone could’ve entered
the house without him noticing. “He knows about my Core.”

“He what? How?”

“I don’t know, but he knows. About the Core, the partial bond. Everything. And he’s known
for a while now. Since before the ball. That’s why he didn’t touch me when we were
dancing.” Ed hadn’t actually confirmed that last part, but it made the most sense. Mustang
only adhered to rules when he understood them, and he must have understood that giving Ed
fuzzy feelings through physical interactions would only make their relationship worse. “He
hasn’t treated me any differently.”

That was the thing that Al needed to hear and Ed needed say. Mustang knew, and against all
odds, didn’t seem to care.

“Do you like him?”

Ed frowned, anxiety curling in his stomach. “I don’t know.”

“When’s the date?”

“Don’t know that, either. Sometime tonight.” Ed waited for the next question, but Al only
hummed, so he continued, “I don’t know what to wear.”

Al laughed.

Ed scowled. “Laugh it up. At least I didn’t take a decade to ask him.”

The comment had little to no effect on Al’s joviality. “I’m not making fun of you, Brother.
It’s nice to hear you worried about something that isn’t life-threatening for a change.”

“I’m not worried. I just don’t want the bastard to think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“But you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, well he doesn’t need to know that.”

Al laughed again, and Ed smiled in spite of himself.

Al said, “Just wear whatever you usually wear. If he likes you for who you are, he’ll know
that a night out with you isn’t expensive suits and newspaper shots.”

“Yeah, but . . .” Ed stopped because he didn’t have anything to say. Somewhere inside—
somewhere disturbingly close to the surface—Ed wanted to impress Mustang. He wanted the
man to think he was handsome and capable and date-worthy. Amber eyes stared at the floor
as he admitted for the first time both to himself and to another that: “I don’t want to mess it
up.”

The line was silent for long, slow minutes before Al’s voice finally came through. “Mustang
would be lucky to have you. If he doesn’t realize that, he’s even dumber than I thought.”

“Yeah, well he’s pretty good at being a dumbass so I wouldn’t put too much stock in him
realizing something as obscure as that.”

Al chuckled. “Get ready for your date, Brother. I’ll stay by the phone if you need me.”

As much as Ed didn’t want to hang up, he recognized that talking to Al was becoming a stall-
tactic, and he wasn’t one to stall. He either went for the goal or accepted defeat. Nothing in
between.

“Thanks Al. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Brother. Good luck.”

Al hung up first. Ed listened to the dial tone for a minute more before placing the phone back
in its cradle. He still had no idea what to wear.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy entered his house to find the Tringham brothers sitting quietly at the table, bags packed.
Considering how loud they tended to be even directly before bed, he was more than a little
curious. He opened his mouth to say as much only for them to shush him and point toward
the couch.

Edward was asleep.

He was curled up, metal arm pulled close to his chest and flesh arm pillowing his head with
what looked to be a wrinkled dress-shirt. His signature red cloak was practically a blanket,
and Roy could tell by the lack of tension that this sleep had been a long-time coming. Edward
worked himself to the bone every day, worrying about everyone but himself, and a lull in his
schedule must have been too much to overcome.

Roy turned back to the Tringham brothers to see Russell smiling softly. Roy jabbed his thumb
toward the door, asking if they were ready to head to Russell’s new dorm. They nodded. Roy
walked over to help them with their possessions: few in comparison to Roy, an overwhelming
amount in comparison to Edward.

They were all extra quiet as they left the house, breathing a sigh of relief as they shut the door
behind them. Roy piled their things into the trunk, some of it spilling over into the back seat,
and they got in the car. It wasn’t until they were on the road that anyone spoke.

“What do you like about him?”

Roy glanced toward the passenger’s seat, gauging Russell’s intentions. The blonde looked
slightly pained but overall content. There was no malice in his tone. He wasn’t trying to ward
Roy away from Fullmetal.

Eventually, Roy responded. “His resilience.”

Roy expected Russell to say something like ‘I’m resilient,’ but the young alchemist (maybe
for the first time) surprised him.

“I’ve been an asshole, haven’t I?”

Roy looked at Russell again, longer this time. “You didn’t know.”

“Bullshit. You’ve called him Fullmetal from day one. I just didn’t want to believe it. I just . . .
I was jealous. He’s crazy-talented, ridiculously smart, stupidly handsome, and for him to
have fame and a high rank on top of that? My saving grace was his abrasive personality, and
even that seemed to interest you more than not.”

It was a hard admission to make, and the fact that Russell had made it unprompted, in front of
Roy, planted a sprout of respect in Roy’s chest. Russell was honest, even when he didn’t want
to be.

Roy nodded. “Fullmetal can bring out the worst in people.”

“He can bring out the best, too.” Russell stared at Roy while Roy stared at the road. “He
brings out the best in you. In a way I never could. And I’m not saying that to get into your
good graces. I’ve been talking it over with Fletch, and we agreed that me dating you was
probably better in theory than it would’ve been in practice. I wouldn’t have been able to stand
up to the Führer like he did. I’d flounder at political parties, and taking your enemies on as
my own would scare me.” Russell sounded like he hated himself for it, but he was right.
Roy’s life was only glamorous from the outside, and that glamor was what Russell craved. “I
could handle it, I know, but not well. You would get tired of me holding back your political
career and I would grow resentful of you expecting so much of me. The pressure would break
us apart.”

Russell interrupted his own speech with a bitter chuckle. Roy kept a close watch out of his
peripheral vision.

“I probably sound crazy having thought so much about a relationship that will never happen,
but you have to know that I’m good with you and Ed. I still want to support you, but not as
an awkward fan-boy. I’m going to work hard over the next few years, and while I won’t be
huge on the political front, I’ll be useful. Someone to stand as an equal.”

“I look forward to it.”

Russell’s eyes widened, and it took a long moment for him to nod. Roy pulled into the
parking lot of the dorm. Russell got out first. Fletcher followed shortly after, pausing only
long enough to say, “It’s your loss.”

Roy didn’t doubt Fletcher thought that was true.

Roy helped them get their things up the stairs to their room, then parted with a simple
goodbye. Russell didn’t thank him again, and Roy liked to think the blonde had finally
recognized that Fullmetal was the only person who deserved his gratitude. Roy would have
left them in the cold.

When he returned home, Edward was still asleep. In his sleep, he’d decided the couch was
large enough for him to sprawl out. One leg was curled awkwardly under him, the other
halfway up the back of the couch. Both arms were above his head, abutting with the arm of
the couch.

His shirt had ridden up to show a toned stomach and beautifully carved abs. Blonde tufts of
hair so light that Roy had previously missed them led from his belly-button down to the
waistband of his pants. Roy wondered if his pubic hairs would be long and untamed or trim.
Certainly not shaved. He thought of how Edward’s cock would look when erect, standing
strong against tan skin and blonde hair. His own cock twitched.

Roy turned and made his way to his room.

He strode into the bathroom, stripping his clothes as he went, and hopped into the shower.
Steaming water warmed his back. He slid a hand down his stomach to grip his already
throbbing erection.

Pleasure sparked in Roy’s gut as he stroked himself, thoughts circling Edward’s taut stomach
and how it would flex when Edward rode him. He thought about automail and the delicious
change in texture it would provide, and his hand moved faster as he imagined Edward’s hand
—either of them—in its place. Warmth built in his stomach, a shudder running up is spine as
he swiped his thumb over his cockhead. How would Fullmetal react with Roy’s cock pulsing
in his hand? Roy didn’t remember the first time he’d held another man’s penis, but it felt
oddly different from his own.

And how long would Edward be able to keep a rhythm with Roy touching him in return?
How long until golden eyes fluttered shut and—

“Edward.” The name was a whisper on his lips, barely audible over running water, but it
made him feel. Feel like Fullmetal was actually there. Feel like a kiss was a possibility. Feel
like their date had already gone well and Edward would be waiting for him when he emerged
from the shower.
Roy heard something: a small, almost inaudible thump, and looked up into wide golden eyes.
The insanely pleasurable pressure in his stomach uncoiled and Roy came.

Hard.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed ran to the library. He knew Mustang would give chase within the next few seconds—
knew it even without the sharp “Fullmetal” following him down the hall. He didn’t think his
heart had ever beat so hard or fast, and it didn’t show signs of slowing down any time soon.

Worse than that, he was hard. Ed tossed himself onto the bed and scooted back against the
wall, pulling his legs up to his chest to hide the erection that panic hadn’t withered. Mustang
barged in a second later. Ed had thought for a second that the man would knock, but
considering the situation, it only seemed fair.

Mustang’s hair was wet, un-brushed, and shoved haphazardly out of his eyes. He was
wearing a pair of black pants and a thin white T-shirt. He looked good. Ed refused to let his
embarrassment get the best of him and met that dark gaze head-on. He started talking before
Mustang could go off.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, okay? I heard the shower going and I was just going to ask what I should
wear through the door, but the door was open, and I heard you say my name, so I figured . . .”

“You figured I knew you were there and was telling you to come in.” Mustang sighed as he
ran a hand through his hair, somehow managing to look even sexier. Ed’s traitorous prick
twitched in response. God, it was like watching a porn-star after the porn had ended. Or
before it began. “Look, Fullmetal, I’m sorry you saw that, but I’m not going to apologize for
doing it. I like you. I like you romantically. I like you sexually. And I have needs that require
satisfying. I’m sure you can sympathize with at least that much.”

Ed reeled from the sudden influx of information. He had known—seen—that Mustang liked
him, but to hear so blatantly that he was the object of Mustang’s fantasies?

“What about my automail?”

Mustang’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t miss a beat. “It’s tantalizing. Exotic. I want to touch it.
Be touched by it.”

“My scars?”

“They’re tempting. A reminder of what you’ve been through and how well you’ve handled it
all. I’d like to hear about them some day.”

“You really think I’m attractive?”

Mustang’s expression twisted into something haughty and confused. “Do you not?”

Ed maintained eye contact but refused to answer. Mustang caught on anyway. He caught on,
and he left the room. Ed’s insides churned, entirely unsure how to take the abrupt exit after
such an honest confession. Mustang was gone long enough for Ed’s erection to wane and his
legs to unbend. He scooted forward so his feet could touch the floor. Before he could stand,
Mustang re-emerged.

He walked over and handed Ed a piece of paper. On the paper in Mustang’s ever-elegant
handwriting were the words Reasons to Date Fullmetal and Reasons Not to Date Fullmetal.
There was a line down the middle.

In bullet-point format under Reasons to Date Fullmetal was:

Brilliant

Caring

Handsome

Strong

Resilient

Alchemist of the People

Capable

Talented

Challenging

Interesting

Gorgeous

Knowledgeable

Alchemic Prowess

High Rank

Quick-Witted

Conversational

Genius

Active

Can Protect Himself

Un-manipulatable

Stunning

Funny

Crass

Loyal

Dependable

Reliable

In bullet-point format under Reasons Not to Date Fullmetal was:

No Filter

Additional Enemies

Political Landmine

Irritating (underlined three times)

No Tact

Distracting

Naïve

Overly Trusting

And that was it.

Ed read it again. There were three separate mentions of his physical appearance, and it made
heat rush to Ed’s chest.

Mustang said, “I started that list a little over a year ago, back when I was first trying to figure
out if you were worth the effort. I’ve added to it as time went by.”

After what felt like endless minutes, Ed gave one, decisive nod. “You seriously like me then.
Genuinely.”

He’d said it more to himself, but Mustang nodded. “Yes, Fullmetal. I really, genuinely like
you. Very much.”
Mustang sounded exasperated, but underneath that was something deeper. Something Ed
recognized on instinct. Fear.

Mustang was afraid Ed would turn away from him.

Mustang had been caught masturbating to the thought of him. He’d openly shared his
thoughts about Ed’s body, come clean about his secret list of contemplations, and now it was
up to Ed. Mustang, in laying everything on the table, had made himself vulnerable.

Ed caught Mustang’s gaze, meeting that vulnerability in the middle as he asked, “What
should I wear on our date?”

(***Intertwined***)

Contrary to what Ed had assumed, date-attire was gym shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Mustang
wore khaki shorts and a dark blue V-neck. He recommended Ed wear running shoes, but
boots were the only shoes Ed owned, so that suggestion was promptly ignored. While Ed was
sure they weren’t going to an upscale restaurant dressed as they were, he was surprised when
they exited city limits.

“Where are we going, Mustang?”

The Colonel just smiled. Ed rolled his eyes. He hated surprises.

Eventually, they came to a stop. It appeared to be the middle of nowhere, at the bottom of
either a very large hill or a very small mountain. Part of it looked like a cliff-face. Mustang
opened the trunk to remove a small backpack and, after securing it, said, “You ready?”

Ed shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They started up the side of the mountain. Ed expected there to be some sort of tourist
attraction along the way, but after half an hour of fairly strenuous hiking, that assumption was
tossed.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Why? The hike too much for you?”

Ed snorted. “As if.”

“No need to put on a brave face. I can carry you if need be.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m heavier than I look.”

“I know.”
Ed gritted his teeth as he realized that Mustang did, in fact, know. He had carried Ed from
Maes’s place to his home. “I can handle it.” It was actually nice, though he would never tell
Mustang as much. “I just want to know where we’re headed.”

“Can’t we hike for hiking’s sake?”

Ed stared at Mustang’s back for a bit, watching sweat gather on the nape of the Colonel’s
neck. “What are you playing at?”

Mustang glanced back, frown twisting his lips and amusement shining in his eyes. “What
makes you think I’ll tell you?”

Ed snorted and turned his head to hide his grin. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was under the impression
you were confessing everything today.”

“Not everything. Just enough. Someone has to keep you in line.”

Ed’s head snapped back toward Mustang fast enough to hurt. “Like you could.”

Mustang hummed but didn’t respond.

Ed muttered, “Arrogant bastard,” under his breath.

“Arrogant bastard or not”—Mustang paused to climb a small rock-face—“I got you to agree
to go out with me.”

“Because you were honest for once in your damn life not”—Ed paused to go up the same
rock-face—“because you manipulated me.”

“Honesty can be a kind of manipulation, too, Fullmetal.”

There was warning in Mustang’s voice, and they both knew to whom he was referring.

“Why do you hate Greeling so much?”

“Besides being the brother of the Führer and having no care for the value of a life?” Mustang
shrugged. “He’s competition for you.”

“You’re jealous?” It was one of the most ridiculous things Ed had ever heard, but the way
Mustang stared tersely ahead said it was true. “That’s a stupid reason to hate someone.”

“I don’t hate him, I just—Can we not talk about this right now?”

Mustang was doing his best not to start a fight. Ed let it slide. For the moment, anyhow.
Silence settled between them, companionable but boring. Ed broke it with a simple, “I’m
going to piss off the Führer tomorrow.”

Mustang turned incredulously toward Ed. When Ed didn’t explain, he faced front and kept
moving. They made it a handful of meters before Mustang asked, “How?” His voice was
calm and casual. His shoulders were tense.
Ed shrugged. “You’ll see. I worked out the alchemy to cover Central Command—specifically
his office—so that we can monitor his comings and goings. I’ll show you how to activate it
later tonight.”

“And you can’t do it discreetly?”

“I could.”

They reached a clearing at the top of the hill-mountain, and Mustang turned to Ed. “I know
you said you wanted to do something ostentatious so that the Führer thinks you’ve slipped
up, but if you can do it inconspicuously, why take the risk?”

“Because he fucked with my family, and I’m not backing down.”

Realization lit coal-black eyes, and Mustang nodded once. Sharp and short. “I’ll be sure to
stay out of the way.” Mustang walked beside him now, toward the edge of the clearing. “How
will I know when you’re finished?”

Ed’s lips stretched in a roguish grin. “You’ll know.”

Surprisingly, Mustang left it at that. Or maybe Ed just couldn’t hear him over the shock of
their view.

Central City, all of it, sprawled across the land. This far up, Ed could see the train station and
the road. The academy and Central Command. If he squinted, he could even make out Maes
and Mustang’s houses. It was beautiful.

“I come up here to remind myself what I’m fighting for.”

Ed could see why. Here, he could spot not only familiar buildings but people. Friends being
made, obstacles being overcome, life being lived. People who needed protection.

A large portion of Ed’s life had taken place in Central, and a large number of the people he
cared for depended on the city’s safety. In some strange sense, it was home. More than any
one building or room, the entirety of Central City was his home. The gym where he trained.
The park where he’d played with Nina. The library where he spent many-a-night reading and
researching.

Ed turned from the scene when he heard a quiet shutter. He looked back to see Mustang
sitting cross-legged, watching him. Mustang had unloaded his backpack to reveal two water
bottles, one of Ed’s notebooks, and a camera, which explained the shutter.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking pictures. What’s it look like?”

Shutter.

“Looks like you’re making an ass of yourself.” Shutter. “Why are you taking pictures of me?”
“Because you’re stunning.”

Ed flipped Mustang off.

Shutter.

“And because I thought Alphonse would like a more recent photo of you. I know Maes
would.”

Ed rolled his eyes and went for a water bottle. He didn’t really care if Mustang took pictures
of him. The only reason there weren’t many pictures was because he was too lazy. Mustang
adjusted the camera to take another photo. Ed plucked it from his hands, replacing the camera
with his water bottle.

Shutter.

A skewed picture of the sky. Ed took his finger off the picture button as he adjusted it to face
Mustang. “Smile, Bastard.”

Mustang raised his perfect eyebrows and set the water bottle down, leaning back on his
hands.

Shutter.

Ed lowered the camera. “What’s the matter? Afraid if you act too human, you’ll be
disqualified for the position of Führer?”

Mustang’s only reaction was a twitch of the lips.

Shutter.

“C’mon, Mustang. I know you’ve spent your whole life trying to be a fuckin’ robot—and
maybe that works for the press—but you’ve got to learn to kick back, too. Take care of
yourself. You’ve got to draw a line between being a person and a dog of the military
somewhere.” Ed paused. “You do remember what it’s like to be a person, right?”

For whatever reason, Mustang laughed. It was smooth and deep. Ed took a second to get a
hold of himself.

Shutter. Shutter. Shutter. Shutter.

Mustang reached up and grabbed the camera from Ed, curling his fingers around Ed’s
automail arm as he did. He pulled Ed down, and Ed let him, ending up cross-legged in beside
the older man.

“You’re astounding, Fullmetal.”

Ed’s brows scrunched together. “Why’s that?”

“You just are.”

Ed waited for further explanation, but none came. “You’re a real weirdo. You know that,
right?”

Mustang scoffed. “Coming from you? That’s rich.” He put the camera down and reached for
Ed’s notebook. “Can you go ahead and explain how to make Core energy visible?”

Ed, easily seduced by complicated alchemy, allowed the previous topic to drop as he opened
his notebook to a blank page.

“Do you have a pencil?”

(***Intertwined***)

The hike was a success. Dinner at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant Roy had frequented in his
younger years went even better. Talk about Core-specific alchemy turned to talk about how
Edward had made their necklaces which turned to talk about how Roy perceived the warmth
of the necklace which turned to talk about the perception and necessity of human emotion. It
only flourished from there.

Edward didn’t even hesitate when Roy suggested they take a walk before returning home. He
was brilliant. More than brilliant, really. Roy paused as they passed a jewelry store,
wondering for a moment what kind of engagement ring Edward would want. If he would
even want one.

“What are you thinking about, Mustang?” The question was mostly curious, but there was
some apprehension there, too.

Roy smirked. “Don’t worry, Fullmetal. It’ll be a while yet before I start covering you in
diamonds.”

“What?” Ed’s tone was sharper than Roy’s playful jab had warranted.

Roy canted his head, not understanding. “I’m saying I don’t plan to shower you in expensive
—”

“No. You said something about diamonds.”

“Covering you in them, yes. But it’s just an express—”

Edward turned on his heels and ran back toward the restaurant. He shouted over his shoulder,
“That’s it! We have to get back!”

Roy broke into a jog, mentally adding Unpredictable to his list of Reasons Not to Date
Fullmetal.
 Despite Roy’s many, many questions, Fullmetal didn’t say anything on the drive home, just
scribbled in his notebook. When they pulled into the garage, Edward shot out of the car faster
than Roy could tell him to wait. He darted into the house without a word, leaving Roy
wondering what had gone wrong.

Roy exited the car slowly, confusion a weight on his shoulders. Fullmetal reappeared in the
doorway to the house a moment later. There was a wild, intelligent look in his eyes that only
ever appeared when he re-invented alchemy, and he was so attractive that Roy actually felt
his knees go weak.

“I can’t explain why I need to do this because I’m not really sure yet myself, but know that it
was a good date, and going out with you again wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s ever
happened to me.”

Then he was gone.

Roy leaned against his car and let out a soundless, disbelieving chuckle.

It was a start.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Roy was doing his paperwork. He was really, genuinely doing his paperwork. Partially
because Hawkeye was feeling extra strict after he’d taken off for his date with Fullmetal and
mostly because researching chimeras was driving him up the wall. Books and books and
books, and they could only give him a quarter of the information Edward could with only a
fraction of the accuracy. It was infuriating.

Unfortunately, paperwork was equally if not more boring than his research was irritating. His
attention has long-since waned, and it was only threat of gunfire that kept him going. That
did not, however, mean he wanted an interruption badly enough to be okay with the blinding
light suddenly emanating from every wall and window (judging from the screaming) in the
entire building.

The light vanished in seconds. Roy opened his eyes and stood from his desk, fingers in
snapping position. His instincts waffled between running to check on his men and proceeding
with caution. He stopped dead when he saw the once-pristine walls of his office covered in
words.

No. Not words.

Names.

Roy and Hawkeye rushed out of his office to see every other wall in much the same
condition.

“Sir?”

Roy ignored Havoc in favor of joining the chaos in the halls and making his way outside. If
he was wrong, acting before gathering information was a dangerous decision. But this didn’t
feel like an attack (not an attack Roy needed to be concerned about anyhow), and he’d
recognized a few of the names in his office. The more names he passed, the more sure he
became.

The moment Roy crossed the threshold between inside and out, he craned his neck.
Amazement swept through him.

The outside walls were covered in names, too. Thousands of them. Millions. All were
perfectly sized and spaced, and no part of the building was left unmarked. Most people were
incredibly confused—shocked, in awe—but Roy could already see a glimmer of
understanding making its way through the crowd. The people who were old enough or cared
enough could see it.

The names of everyone lost to the Ishval Civil War.

And in front of the building, now a monument, was a grinning Fullmetal sitting cross-legged
and unashamed. The smile as he admired his own work was just as stunning as the work
itself. When lesser soldiers finally made the connection between the Alchemist of the People
and their newly decorated building, he was already standing. Even with over a dozen guns
pointed in his direction, the grin didn’t fade.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m coming.”

He didn’t spare Roy a glance as he was escorted away, but Roy couldn’t stop watching if he
tried. It was probably for the best that Edward hadn’t let him in on the plan because he wasn’t
sure he could fake this kind of surprise.

Roy didn’t even notice his unit had followed him or that the intelligence department had
evacuated until all signs of that famous red cloak were long gone.

Maes stopped beside him, the crowd so tight that their shoulders brushed. “Is this what I
think it is?”

“Fullmetal.”

Maes hummed, eyes glued to the building. “He’s certainly got a flare for the dramatics.”

“More like an inability not to be ostentatious.”

“You’re saying the chief did all this?” Breda eyed the building with respect.

“Looks like it.”

“Wow. I mean wow.” Fuery examined the building with an artistic eye that Roy was sure
everyone in the vicinity could relate to. “This is gorgeous! I didn’t even know structural
alchemy like this existed. And to think that Major Elric is behind it? I mean, I’ve heard he
was a genius, but this level of alchemic precision would take a lifetime of commitment and
dedication to arrange. I can’t even imagine the algorithm that went in to writing this many
names on this large a building.”

Edward didn’t do things by halves, and this was no different. With a show of defiance this
brazen and difficult to pull off, Bradley’s men would have a hard time wrapping their minds
around the complicated alchemy being nothing more than a cover for even more complicated
alchemy. It certainly helped that Fullmetal had invented the underlying alchemy, making it
unidentifiable to others, and severely tampered with its structural alchemy cover.

Roy would be surprised if they figured out how to remove it within the next year, and that
wasn’t taking into account their ability to find someone capable of performing the removal
alchemy.

Alphonse, maybe.

Without looking at his until, Roy said, “I doubt they’ll let us re-enter the building anytime
soon. You all have duties outside of Central Command, and you should get to them.”
His men scattered without question while Roy continued to stare at the building. He would
need to hold a press conference over what Fullmetal had done, but only after the Führer held
his own press conference over the same thing. That conference, of course, would come after
Roy was called into questioning.

Any minute now, if Roy knew anything about the dynamics of Edward under the pressures of
an authority figure.

As if on cue, two of Bradley’s men emerged from the building with Mustang on their minds.
They approached him with shoulders squared and heads held high, but Roy could see their
apprehension. They were terrified of the unknown alchemy Fullmetal had performed and
more than worried about the Führer’s inability to control the wildcard. The thought that Roy
was involved in this no doubt added to their fears, but at least then they would have a more
obvious objective. Roy’s political agenda was out in the open. Fullmetal though?

Fullmetal had no agenda.

At this point, Roy would bet Bradley was actually banking on his involvement, and Roy had
never been happier to disappoint.

The soldiers, having finally pushed their way through the crowd, stopped in front of him. The
one on the right said, “Colonel Mustang? We’re going to need you to come with us.”

“Of course.”

Roy offered Maes a parting nod and followed the men into the building. He was taken
straight to the interrogation room, though on the opposite end expected. Through a one-way
mirror, he saw Fullmetal cuffed to a metal table, hands restrained as far from each other as
possible. A soldier Roy didn’t recognize was in the room with Edward, and he didn’t look
pleased about it. Fullmetal . . . well, Fullmetal just looked bored.

“Why did you attack the building?”

“I didn’t attack shit. I just decorated a little.”

“Why did you decorate the building?”

“Because it’s what should’ve been done in the first place.”

“Are you aware of the severity of your crimes? We’re currently considering this an act of
terrorism.”

Fullmetal actually snorted. “Why? Did I massacre millions of innocent people for no
goddamn reason? Oh, wait, no. That was you guys.”

The soldier didn’t hesitate to grab a hold of Edward’s hair and slam his face into the table.
Roy clenched his teeth at the solid smack. The soldier snarled, “I’ve heard all about you and
your smart-ass mouth, and I am not amused. This isn’t a game for children.”
Edward chuckled lowly, not bothering to try and get out of the interrogator’s hold. “If I’m
such a kid, undoing my alchemy should be child’s play.”

The soldier yanked Edward’s head up and slammed it back down again. Roy allowed himself
to flinch. This was a show because they thought he was in on it, but he honestly had no clue
what Edward was planning. He had nothing to hide.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? We’ve got the brightest alchemic minds in Central
coming together to undo what you’ve done. I give your little decorations an hour before
they’re nothing but an ugly memory.”

“Start the timer.”

The soldier let go of Fullmetal’s hair to walk to the other side of the room, staring unseeingly
at Roy. “I’ll never understand shits like you. There’s no reason for you to take the fall for
this.”

“The fall?”

“For Colonel Mustang. We know he’s behind it.”

Edward laughed, and it was genuine. “I did what I wanted because it’s what I fucking wanted,
and the bastard had nothing to do with it. I don’t take orders from him, or Brad, or any-
fucking-body else. You want to execute me for being a terrorist? Start gathering your
armies.”

“You think you’re just going to walk out of here?”

“I give it three days before you unlock these cuffs and escort me out like the good dog you
are.”

The door to Roy’s side of the interrogation room opened for the Führer to walk in. They both
watched as the soldier attempted to yank Edward’s chair back only to be surprised by the
hefty weight.

“Admirable, isn’t it? The way he isn’t willing to name any accomplices.”

Roy looked at Bradley and smiled, for once loving that he didn’t have any information to
hide. “If there are any accomplices to be named, I don’t know them.”

The Führer’s lips twitched down. For once, Roy was being truthful, and for once, the truth
didn’t help a single bit. If Roy were behind this, they would have someone to target and
slander. Someone whose reputation mattered. Edward didn’t give a damn about his
reputation, and if the military cracked down on the Alchemist of the People for creating a
monument for the people, there would be riots.

Roy couldn’t say whether or not Edward had thought about that beforehand or if lady luck
just favored him to such an extreme, but there would be no serious damage done to Fullmetal.

Not without serious political repercussions.

“I see. That’s fortunate.” Bradley plastered his smile back on. “I would hate to see you mixed
in with the wrong crowd. And if you have no leads on Major Elric’s intentions, I see no
reason to keep you from your work. I’ll be sure to let you know when it’s safe to enter the
building again.”

The Führer nodded in dismissal and continued to watch his interrogator try and fail to get
anything other than flippant responses from Fullmetal. The blonde took a harsh punch before
Roy could leave the room. Roy worked hard to walk away.

Fullmetal had known what he was getting into, and he could handle himself.

The first day of Fullmetal’s detainment passed swiftly, hundreds of people coming to Central
Command just to stare. It was the second day that things got interesting.

Word of the Ishval Civil War monument had spread like wildfire. People were traveling from
all across the globe to see it. Many people—soldiers, families, and Ishvalians—were coming
to pay their respects. Crying and praying became common sights.

It was in passing this gathering that Gerard found Roy and suggested they take a walk.

“You know, I’ve never seen Brad this frustrated before.” Gerard’s grin was almost too large.
“He’s got every structural alchemist he can think of pouring over the building, and not a
damn one of them can figure out how Ed did it. Apparently there’s something new in the
building material that wasn’t there before, and it’s keeping them from changing a single wall.
If he wants this gone, he’ll have to tear down the whole fucking building. Even then, the
names will probably sit legible in the rubble.”

Roy looked away from Gerard to stare at the masses on Central Command’s front lawn. “I
doubt tearing it down is an option at this point. The people love it, and taking it away will
only succeed in making sure he isn’t re-elected. He isn’t willing to risk that much. Especially
not for Fullmetal.”

Gerard’s round glasses slid down the bridge of his nose so he could better look at Roy. “You
telling me you didn’t have anything to do with this?”

“I did not.”

Gerard whistled lowly. “He doesn’t know the meaning of fear, does he?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Makes sense though. Brad’s gotten every interrogation specialist he could in with Ed—even
went in there himself once—and tried every tactic short of breaking skin and bones to get
him to talk.”

“And?”

“And so far all they’ve gotten is a string of fuck yous and some well-placed insults. He even
told Brad to unlock his cuffs so he could give them something to really arrest him for.”
Something in Gerard’s smile changed as he talked about Fullmetal’s antics, and Roy hated
that he knew where the other man was coming from.

“I take it they didn’t unlock him?”

“Course not. But that isn’t what I came to tell you. They aren’t breaking bones or slicing skin,
but that doesn’t mean he’s nice and comfy. Make sure you’ve got a medic or two ready when
they release him.”

Roy nodded, already having assumed as much but appreciating the extra information anyway.
They parted ways without another word.

On the third day, the protests began. The people on the lawn refused to leave. They spilled
into the streets and demanded Fullmetal’s release. Their chants could be heard across town.

Every newspaper was filled with speculation on the building, and every one of them held
commentary from the people about how Edward had only done what should’ve been done
previously. The people wanted Fullmetal free, and the only thing the Führer’s press
conferences over the matter were doing was making his team seem incompetent. If they
couldn’t figure out the ploys of an eighteen-year-old boy, they shouldn’t be in charge in the
first place.

As far as the civilians were concerned, the monument was just that. Everything else was the
work of shameful government employees trying to shine a bad light on something they
couldn’t take credit for.

At 9:33 PM on the third day, Edward walked out of Central Command’s front doors with
Bradley at his side. The press conference itself took over an hour—much of it calling
Fullmetal’s work a welcome change and stating that there was nothing dangerous about the
building—but Fullmetal only stayed around for the first four minutes.

A reporter asked if the names were a publicity stunt. Fullmetal promptly told her that the
names were lives needlessly lost to the greedy bowels of war and that she and anyone else
who thought otherwise could go fuck themselves. Then he left, a roaring crowd thanking and
congratulating him on his way.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed hated doctors. He hated people poking and prodding and telling him whether or not he
was okay instead of asking. The doctor at Maes’s house wasn’t an exception.

“Major Elric, please stay still. The wound on your chest is no laughing matter.”

“It’s old news.”

“It’s re-opened is what it is. I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t get infected.”

Ed snorted. He’d heard that one before. “Why not check on Maes instead? His wound is
fresher than mine.”

Maes smiled and saved the doctor some exasperation by saying, “Because I’m a perfect
patient who cleans his wound, replaces his bandages every day, and avoids strenuous
activity. You are not. Now, I’m assuming you’re hungry. If you sit tight for the doctor, I’ll go
get some of Gracia’s famously delicious soup.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ed sat still as the doctor stitched him up and re-wrapped his wounds.
He’d already turned down the offered anesthesia with a practiced disinterest. If something
happened, he didn’t need both restricting bandages and a fuzzy head slowing his reaction
times.

Maes came back with a bowl of something heavenly. Ed was chastised when he reached for
it.

“Major Elric, be still.”

“Oh, c’mon. I haven’t eaten any real food in three days.”

The doctor gave Ed a displeased look before tying off his bandages and saying, “We aren’t
finished.” She stepped away and allowed Maes to hand him the soup.

It tasted as good as it smelled. Ed didn’t look up when Mustang entered the house.

“And here I thought you had no table manners before. What exactly did they feed you these
past three days?”

Ed, who hated it when people talked with their mouths full, didn’t swallow before saying,
“Chalk.” He didn’t have to look to see the glance Maes and Mustang shared.

“Chalk?”

Ed drank the broth before holding the bowl out to Maes in a silent request for more. “Yeah.
Fuckers said that until I was ready to draw the transmutation circle I used, it was all the food
I deserved. And maybe it’s just because I’ve been hanging around great cooks lately, but
chalk tastes like shit.”

The doctor was back by his side in an instant, worried and exhausted. “How much chalk did
you ingest? If it’s still in your system—”

Ed waved a hand, dismissive. “It’s fine. I threw most of it up already. What we need to focus
on is getting me more food and letting me set up safety parameters around all the houses that
need it.” Ed turned his attention to Mustang while Gracia came in with a new bowl of soup,
already having predicted his monstrous appetite.

The doctor stood up as he reached for the second bowl, well at the end of her patience.
“Major Elric. This is serious. What we need is to perform a tox-screen and get you into bed
until further notice. Whatever they forced you through isn’t—”
“They didn’t force me through anything, Doc. I could have broken out of there at any time.
And if I’d thought they were going to legitimately hurt me, that’s what I would’ve done. I
don’t know how many times you’ve gotten into a fight, but right now they’re scrambling to
cover their asses. That’s the perfect time to set things in motion, not go to bed.”

“You’re not at war.”

“He touches my family again, I will be.” Ed watched the doctor until she couldn’t hold his
stare anymore, then exchanged soup bowls with Gracia. “Thanks for this. It’s delicious.”
Gracia offered a smile that was too sad for Ed’s taste, so he turned back to the doctor. “Can
you leave for a bit?”

She looked torn. At Maes’s nod, she packed her things and evacuated the house. Ed ate more
soup as he waited, then returned his attention to the two men in front of him.

“I need you guys to work out the specifics and be ready to gather people by tomorrow
evening. The alchemy I performed on Central and at Mustang’s place are different from what
I’ll do everywhere else. The ones I’ve already done aren’t tied to any particular person, and
all you’ll need to utilize them will be the ability to perform alchemy and the right circle.”

“No one in my unit has a Core.”

“And I can’t perform alchemy.”

“Exactly. So I modified it to link specific people and places. First, I’ll need everyone we trust
in one spot. I can link everyone there with alchemy, and they can then link a portable version
of the alchemy to specific places, but it’s got the drawback of anyone who isn’t in the original
circle setting it off. If we can hammer out this list and manage to get everyone we trust in one
spot, that issue will be null. We’ll be alerted any time an uninvited person steps into a
corresponding area: e.g., our homes. It means there will be no inviting strangers over until
this is finished, but it also means we’ll be safer. And if you guys can work out some kind of
communications technique so we know when it’s a false-alarm, that would pretty much set
us.”

“Fullmetal, that’s brilliant.”

“It’s not brilliant until it’s done. We’ve got to figure out a place we can meet and how big our
circle of trust and their circles of trust extend. So you, your unit, Maes and his family,
Greeling and his gang—”

“Gerard? You really think you can trust him with this?”

“I trust my gut, and it says he hates Brad more than he would like betraying us.” Mustang
didn’t look happy about it, but he wasn’t making the decision, so it didn’t really matter. “Is
there anyone else you guys want in on this?”

“What about Alphonse?”

“He’s in Resembool, and with any luck he’ll stay there until this is done.”
Maes tilted his head. “Alex and Olivier would be good additions.”

“The Armstrongs?”

Maes nodded. “They’re trustworthy, and I’m sure they’re going to get pulled into this
eventually.”

“That’s fine. All I really need is a time and place to do it. I’ve got a meeting with the Führer
in the morning, but I doubt that’ll take long. Any time after ten should be good, though I’d
rather do it sooner than later.”

Mustang held up a hand, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “You have a meeting with the
Führer?”

“Yeah. He said to meet him tomorrow at nine right before letting me go. He was real fucking
cocky about it, too.”

“Fullmetal, that should have been the first thing you told us. A meeting with Führer King
Bradley is nothing to scoff at, especially with the stunt you just pulled.”

“It’s not like I can skip the meeting, and it isn’t like you can prep me for it since we’ve got no
clue what he wants. So what’s it matter if you know or not?”

“This isn’t a joke, Fullmetal. You’ve seen how he retaliates, and you humiliated him in
public.”

“Yeah. In public. If he comes after me, fingers point straight to him.”

“You think he hasn’t taken out public enemies before? Making sure no one suspects him of
foul play is his specialty.”

“Fuck him and his specialties.”

“Damn it, Fullmetal—”

Maes put a hand on Mustang’s shoulder to calm him. “What’s done is done, and there’s
nothing we can do about it now. Why don’t we get to work on putting that list together and
finding an inconspicuous meeting place? Ed needs his rest, and he can tell us all about the
meeting tomorrow after it ends.” Maes turned to face Ed, a pleading smile in place. “I know
you hate him, but please do your best to be respectful. Everything will go smoother if the
Führer thinks you’re wary of retaliation.”

“I’m not a great liar.”

“Then don’t lie.” Maes’s voice was gentle, but the underlying worry was clear. “Just don’t tell
the truth.”

Ed shrugged and stood to get a third bowl of soup.

“I’ll try.”
 (***Intertwined***)

Jean knew he wasn’t the best at, well, anything really. He didn’t have any specialties, and he
wasn’t particularly smart. It was hard work, determination, and the luck of meeting Roy
Mustang early on that got him where he was today.

If he wanted to go further—and he did want that—then he needed to keep that hard work and
determination flowing towards Mustang’s goals. It was only through him that Jean would
ever be able to make a positive impact on the world, and that was something Jean desperately
craved.

Which was why he had to be as strong and arrogant as the boss man, even when he didn’t
feel it.

“I’m going to need a copy of those files. Führer’s orders.”

Jean glanced around the empty hallway and tightened his grip on the manila envelope.
“Sorry, Dosmann. I’ve got strict orders to take this straight to Colonel Mustang.”

“What was that, Second Lieutenant Havoc? Because it sounded like you denying an order
from your superior.”

“Dosmann—”

“That’s Captain Dosmann to you, Second Lieutenant. And if the Colonel has a problem with
sharing his information, he can take it up with the Führer.”

Dosmann reached for the file. Jean put it behind his back.

“I apologize, Captain Dosmann, but my orders were clear. I have no way of knowing that
your orders came from the Führer, and until I get proof otherwise, it’s my duty to get these
straight to the Colonel.”

Dosmann’s responding smile was a ghastly thing. “Then as an order from your Captain. Hand
over the envelope.”

Jean swallowed thickly, mind racing over ways to get out of this without giving up intel.
Before he could think of anything, the file was snatched from his hands.

“I’ll never understand why everybody gets so uptight about some stupid papers.”

“Fullmetal?”

“If it isn’t the famous Fullmetal Alchemist.” Dosmann chuckled. “I like what you did to the
building.”
“Most people do.” The blonde flipped carelessly through the papers, barely scanning each
page before going onto the next.

“The Second Lieutenant was just about to hand over those files.”

“You know, I really don’t think he was.” Fullmetal closed the file and gave Dosmann a look
that very clearly stated he thought the Captain was an idiot. “In fact, if I had to wager a guess,
I’d say he was just about to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

Fullmetal actually managed to look bored as he stuffed the papers back into the envelope and
handed them to Jean.

“Fullmetal—”

“That’s Major Elric to you, Captain. Now do me a favor and give me a really good reason
why you aren’t standing at attention.”

Dosmann stiffened, face paling as he snapped to attention. “I apologize, Major Elric. I was
unaware you preferred these formalities.”

“I don’t. You’re just pissing me off.”

“M-major Elric, it’s by order of the Führer that I—”

“Oh, I know. Luckily, I’ve got a meeting with Brad in about”—Fullmetal casually pulled out
his State Alchemist’s pocket watch and flipped it open—“five minutes ago. I’ll be sure to
take note of any grievances he has with my decisions.” Fullmetal turned, and Jean’s respect
for the blonde skyrocketed when he saw the mirth dancing in amber eyes. “You should get
going. And Havoc?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell Mustang to burn those papers after reading them.”

“Major Elric!”

“Yes, sir!”

Jean walked away without Dosmann attempting to stop him, and he didn’t have to look to
know Fullmetal was keeping the Captain in place. When Jean reached the office, he nearly
collapsed into his seat. He’d heard Fullmetal was intimidating—had seen him go off on
Mustang and the Führer both—but having him do it right next to Jean, for Jean, was a
different matter entirely. It gave him goosebumps.

“Are you alright, Havoc?” Falman sounded concerned. Jean wondered if he looked as out of
sorts as he felt.

“Did you run into any issues?” Mustang was out of his office, though whether he’d joined
them when Jean arrived or was already out and about, Jean wasn’t sure.
“Boss man! I got the information you wanted on the missing people and animals surrounding
Central City, but the Führer sent Dosmann to intercept me.”

Dark eyes narrowed and focused in on the envelope. “Did he see them?”

“That’s just it. He had me in a corner when Fullmetal came around and shut him down like a
bad date. He basically told Dosmann to shove it, then made him stand at attention until I
could get out of there. It was awesome.” Finally in the safe zone, Jean allowed his relief to
show. He sucked in a lungful of nicotine and exhaled slowly. “He’s something else. Oh, and
he looked through the files—I didn’t figure you’d mind since it’s him—and said to tell you to
burn them after reading. I don’t know if he saw something more incriminating than a bunch
of random missing animals or if he just wanted to piss off Dosmann and the Führer, but I told
him I’d tell you.”

Mustang’s lips pursed in a way that said Fullmetal had done something he probably shouldn’t
have. The Colonel took the envelope. “Good job, Havoc. Falman, go ahead and read over
these. Get them to me as soon as you’re done. If Fullmetal said to burn them, they should
probably be burned.”

Mustang gave the room one more glance before disappearing into his office. Jean wondered
just how much this whole Fullmetal-Führer dispute was taking a toll on him.

Once the door to Mustang’s office had been shut for a full three minutes, Fuery spun in his
chair to look at Jean. “Was he really that cool?”

“Cooler. You’d never know he’s eighteen by the way he holds himself. I swear, if Dosmann
hadn’t listened when he said to back down, Fullmetal probably would’ve punched him.”

Breda leaned his forearm on his desk, over a stack of paperwork. “He’d have done more than
punch him, if the rumors are to be believed. I hear the chief’s nothing short of brutal in
battle.”

Jean blinked, trying to remember if Breda had every actually met Dosmann. The toothy grin
on Breda’s face said it didn’t really matter. He was likely just happy to have something to talk
about other than work.

While the boss man was always focused, his need for work to be done quickly and discreetly
had been on high ever since the Hughes family was attacked. The Colonel even paid more
attention to his paperwork, if only just so.

Jean took another drag of his cigarette, adrenaline still pumping. “Man, I’m glad I got the
info back safe and sound, but I would’ve paid to see Dosmann get his face punched in. I
mean, even one hit would’ve been enough.” He slouched in his chair, content with imagining
the douche getting his ass kicked.

Fuery rerouted the conversation, voice low. “What do you think it’s like being Fullmetal?”
Jean glanced at Fuery, who blushed and quickly clarified, “I don’t mean like the rank or
automail or anything. Just what it would be like to have the courage to say whatever you
think, whenever you think it.”
Falman smiled as he flipped a page of the files he’d been handed. “I’m pretty sure most
people who do that are considered stupid and reckless.”

“Well then to have the courage to say it and be able to back it up.”

“They’re still only brash, at best. I’d much rather have a plan and be confident in obtaining
the desired results than fall prey to the pull of instant gratification.”

Fuery deflated a little. “It’d still be pretty cool though. Maybe just for a day.”

“A day? I’d settle for an hour.” Jean sighed at the thought of having Fullmetal’s reputation at
his disposal. The man probably had dates throwing themselves at him twenty-four-seven, just
like Mustang. “Just enough time to find a gorgeous woman, show off my pocket watch, and
take her to bed.”

The main doors opened again for Fullmetal himself to walk through. Jean straightened in his
seat, hoping to look less like a guilty-gossip than he felt.

“Colonel Bastard in his office?”

“The boss man? Yeah.”

Fullmetal strode by them, paused at Mustang’s office door, and promptly kicked it in.

Mustang looked less than amused. “Was that really necessary, Fullmetal?”

“Probably not, but it felt good.”

“At least close it behind you.”

“I actually think it’s better if you came out here. Your unit’s going to need to hear this
anyhow.”

Fullmetal sounded displeased, to put it lightly. Mustang stilled behind his desk. It took less
than half a minute for him and Hawkeye to come out and stare Fullmetal down.

“What did the Führer say?”

“He’s promoting me. Three days from now I’ll be Lieutenant Colonel Elric, and he wants to
hold a ceremony so all of my closest friends and family can see it happen. That’s you, your
unit, the Armstrongs, the Hughes, Greeling, Al, Winry—he’s even got Granny Pinako on the
list. Says I don’t have to worry about getting them down here because he’ll make sure they’re
escorted himself. I need you to get to them before he does.”

Whatever plan Mustang had in motion reformed around the new information. “I’ll send
Hawkeye to fetch them tonight.”

“I want Havoc to go.”

Mustang’s brows rose. He looked to Jean, but Jean was too busy staring at Fullmetal to take
much notice. “Me?”

“I know everyone in this unit is trustworthy and capable, but there’s a difference in knowing
and seeing. If you’re willing to try and squirm out of the Führer’s orders for some papers, I
imagine you’ll do a lot more to protect my brother.” Amber eyes refocused on Mustang. “I’ll
do whatever you want—help out in whatever ways I can. Just send Havoc to keep my family
safe.” He paused. “Bringing everyone I care about under one roof is a bad fucking sign, and I
want to be prepared. Your kind of prepared.”

Mustang took his time looking over Fullmetal before tossing a determined glance at Jean. “I
want you on the next train out of here. Fullmetal will call and make sure they’re waiting at
the station when you arrive. Everyone else get your ears to the walls. I want to know when,
where, and how this promotion is going down, and I want it ten minutes ago.”

Fullmetal gave Jean a thankful nod as he followed Mustang back into the office, and Jean let
himself enjoy the sense of pride welling in his chest while it lasted. If there was anything he
had learned from watching Mustang pine over Fullmetal, it was that the blonde’s favor was
hard to obtain. Now he just had to make sure not to disappoint.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed was one hundred percent sure that every word coming out of Mustang’s mouth was
complete and utter bullshit.

“You seriously think me getting in uniform for this stupid shindig will be enough to placate
him?”

“I think it’ll show him that you’re aware of how much power he holds over the lives of your
loved ones and that you aren’t asking for an all-out war.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“You are afraid of him. You’re afraid of what he can do to your family and terrified you
won’t be able to stop him. That doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you aware.”

Ed crossed his arms and turned away. “This is political bullshit.”

“Yes. It is. Which is exactly why you came to me. If you want to have a chance of taking
down the Führer while keeping everyone intact, the only option is exposing his connections
to the chimera attacks. That means playing your part and keeping your head down until the
time is right.”

Ed clenched his fists until it felt like his flesh palm would bleed. “And how the hell am I
supposed to do that? How can I bare my neck to the shithead who tried to have the Hughes
killed?”
“You bare your neck with the knowledge that you’re going to take him down later. Having
the upper hand is only useful if you can keep it, and right now you’re practically giving it
away.”

Mustang sounded like he was spelling out something simple to an especially slow child. Ed
hated that he didn’t have a rebuttal. As much as physical harm was on the horizon, this battle
was political, and Ed sucked at all things politics. He had swallowed his pride when he asked
Mustang what to do. Now he had to keep it down. Follow orders.

“If I do what you say, will they be safe?”

Mustang stared at Ed for a long moment, something just short of pity painting his face. “I
don’t know.”

Ed sighed and slumped into one of the seats in front of Mustang’s desk. “He doesn’t think
you had any involvement with the building, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try and take it out
on you and your men, too. Whatever happens, I’ll do my best to protect them.”

“Don’t worry about them. They can take care of themselves.”

“Everybody can take care of themselves up until they can’t. I’m just saying you’ve got my
help if you need it.” Ed leaned back in his chair, a heavy, helpless feeling sitting deep in his
chest. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Mustang tossed Ed a skeptical look.

“I promise. No questioning your orders or fighting back. I’m . . . I’m thankful for your help,
and I’m not stupid enough to try and do this on my own when you’ve offered your hand. This
is your arena, not mine.”

Mustang, if possible, looked even more displeased than before. “You’ve got to know I don’t
like seeing you like this, Fullmetal.”

“Don’t you? I thought me following orders was what you dream of at night.”

“Not in this context, I don’t.” Ed raised his brows at the possible sexual innuendo while
Mustang shuffled the papers around on his desk. “I’ll find out what I can about the ceremony
and relay the information to you as soon as possible. For now, the most useful thing you can
do is to go and gather everyone you’re going to want in on your alchemic security system.
Havoc should be back with your family this evening, and we’ll meet at Gerard’s house
tonight, if he’ll allow it. It’s the largest amount of space with the least likelihood of being
monitored by the Führer.”

“Right. I’ll go ask.” Ed rose from his seat, hesitated, and made for the door before hesitating
again. “Everything I’ll be doing tonight involves Core alchemy. Because of my connection to
the Gate, sometimes it goes a little . . . screwy.”

“Screwy?”
 “Just know that this is necessary, and if something goes wrong, keep whatever judgments you
have to yourself.”

Ed didn’t wait to see what Mustang had to say. He just left.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When Ed got to Greeling’s house, he went straight to work. Core alchemy took a lot out of
him—even making the necklaces left him with a deep-seated exhaustion for a few days—and
this was going to be large-scale. That meant he’d need all the help he could get, which meant
taking the time to draw the array. There would be twenty-one people in the room, not
including himself. This would take seven times the amount of Core alchemy as the necklaces.

It was guaranteed to end badly, but not without first succeeding in what he set out to do.

Greeling watched him from the sidelines, shuffling this way and that when Ed needed to
widen the circle. Eventually, he hopped atop a decorative stone pillar at the bottom of the
grand staircase, close but out of the way. Martel, Roa, and Dolcetto were somewhere in the
house, he was sure, but not where he could see them.

Within fifteen minutes of starting the array, everything else faded to the background. His
world consisted only of stone, chalk, and alchemy. He had no idea how long it took to draw
out the circle—especially since it was large enough to hold twenty-two people—but when he
finished, the room was full.

Greeling was still on his perch, but Martel, Roa, and Dolcetto were around him. Namae stood
behind Elaine’s chair. Next to them were the Armstrongs. On the other side of the room was
Mustang and his unit, the Hughes family, and most importantly, Al, Winry, and Granny
Pinako.

Seeing his attention was back within the realms of reality, Granny Pinako stepped to the edge
of the circle. “How’s my best customer doing?”

Ed grinned so wide it hurt. He stood and pulled her into a hug. “Granny!”

“What’s all this? I finally get to see you again, and it’s for a promotion? I thought you had to
be obedient for those kind of things.”

“Who’s to say I haven’t been following orders?”

Granny Pinako laughed. “The last eighteen years of your life, that’s who. I guarantee the only
thing that’s changed these past few years is your height, and even that isn’t by much.”

Ed’s grin turned sardonic. “At least I’m not shrinking, unlike some people I know.” Ed
released his grip on Granny Pinako and turned to Al and Winry. “Sorry for dragging you guys
out here again on such short notice. It’s—”

“Don’t you go apologizing. It’s that stupid Führer’s fault.” Winry crossed her arms in a huff.
“I mean, you can be pretty dumb sometimes, so I’m sure you did something to piss him off,
but it’s him who doesn’t have the guts to face you one-on-one.”

Ed laughed again. “Agreed.” With one more glance around the room, well-aware that none of
his relationships would be the same after this, Ed clapped his hands. “I need everyone to line
up on the rim of the outer circle.”

(***Intertwined***)

Gerard knew Ed was brilliant. That didn’t make his attention to detail or the fact that he
had created this overly-complex circle any less impressive. The fact that it was exactly wide
enough for all twenty-one of them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder without touching only
heightened the grandeur.

“Alright. The way this works is that I’m going to connect my Core to all of you, basically
tying my Core to a sliver of your essence. I’m not taking anything from you, only making it
so your essence is recognized by my Core. From there, I’ll funnel that recognition into this
circle and create twenty-one security pendants. Each of you should put one in your house
and, if you live together, whatever other places you want monitored. That’ll tell you
whenever someone in this circle enters and make you feel really frickin’ awkward when
someone outside the circle enters. You’ll only be connected to the one you place, so if you
want to be connected to more than one, you need to be there to help place it.

“All you need to do to activate it is place the pendant in the center of the building you want to
monitor. Maes and Mustang are working out a better system to communicate when someone
we don’t want breaches the parameters specified. The main thing to keep in mind is that this
isn’t for fun. Brad is planning something, and anyone who enters your area uninvited is a
threat.” Ed paused and looked at father-figure Hughes. “As soon as my hands hit the floor,
cover Elicia’s eyes.”

Gerard raised both brows. As confused as everyone else was, father-figure Hughes only
nodded.

Ed took a deep breath, positioned himself in the middle of the circle, and touched his chest.
When he pulled his hand away, a sliver of golden light came out with it. Like sunshine, only
more magnificent. Everything in Gerard begged to touch it or be touched by it, but he forced
himself still.

Ed strode to him, the golden light moving fluidly around the circle. Gerard thought for a
moment that he would be first, but of course Ed started with Alphonse, who was directly to
Gerard’s right. The elder blonde touched his brother’s chest, bringing out a warm brown light
as he pulled back. Alphonse sighed, face relaxing in contented pleasure. The brown light
mingled with the gold.

Ed made his way around the circle, touching everyone just as gently as he had Alphonse and
pulling more and more colors into the air. Armstrong’s color was pink, and his sister’s was
uniform blue. Father-figure Hughes had a dark, forest green light while his wife’s was more
of a seafoam. Their daughter’s was teal. Hawkeye’s light was a gorgeous cerulean. Mustang’s
was a rich shade of violet.

Namae’s light was a sweet crimson. His wheelchair girl’s was white. Roa’s light was black,
while Martel’s was lilac. Dolcetto had a sunset orange light, and as stunning as the circle of
lights and colors was, all Gerard could really focus on was the anticipation of being touched
next. Maybe Ed would spend a moment longer on him, since he was the last to go.

Ed’s fingers hovered over Gerard’s chest for a moment as they made eye-contact, then they
touched.

Everything Gerard had ever known about being contented with material items melted away as
he felt the connection of another life caressing his own. Seconds passed like minutes, and he
wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever. Lost in that beautiful, perfect serenity
where nothing could go wrong and no one could harm them. For those moments, there was
no void to fill or persona to upkeep. He was simply Gerard Homunculi, wholly and
miraculously connected to Edward Elric.

Then a silver light more entrancing than all the rest left his chest, and Gerard found himself
in a pleasurable haze.

“Ready?”

Gerard took a moment to blink and remember that father-figure Hughes was supposed to
cover his baby girl’s eyes. Then Ed touched the circle and reality fractured. The room went
black and the ghost of a too-large Gate stood behind Ed. When it took full form, they weren’t
in Gerard’s entryway anymore, but a stark basement.

Ed was gone, but he also wasn’t. He was just younger. Next to him was a young Alphonse,
and in front of them was a circle and pile of ingredients.

“This is it.”

Little Ed grinned at Little Alphonse, and they both pressed their hands to the circle. Gerard
heard Real Alphonse say, “Oh no.”

The circle started to glow, little sparks of electricity hitting the materials in the center.

“Ed, something doesn’t feel right.”

A large eye appeared in the middle of the circle. Black vines came out and attached
themselves to little Alphonse’s arm. His arm broke apart like it wasn’t made of anything at
all.

“Al! No!”

That was when Gerard noticed that the vines were tiny hands, and they had a hold of Little
Ed’s leg, too.
“Brother! Ed! Help me! Help!”

The hands were all over Little Alphonse, breaking him apart. Little Ed reached desperately
for his brother. Gerard tried to move—to help, to anything—but he was frozen in place. Little
Alphonse’s hand disintegrated before Little Ed could touch it.

A bright light filled the room. Little Ed was missing a leg while Little Alphonse was nothing
but a pile of clothes.

“No! This wasn’t supposed to . . . He’s gone. No. What have I done?” Little Ed crawled
towards the transmutation circle, bloody stump staining the floor beneath him.

“Somebody help me! Please Mom. Mom please!” He looked to the center of the circle, but
whatever they had created wasn’t human. Its skeletal jaw cracked open while a bloody hand
reached for the sky. It started to crawl toward Little Ed.

“No! This . . . This is wrong. This isn’t. This isn’t what we wanted. Al—Alphonse! Alphonse
Alphonse Alphonse Alphonse! This is all my fault. Alphonse no!”

A suit of armor dropped beside him, and Little Ed pulled himself over.

“No, damn it. You won’t take him too. Give him back. He’s my brother!” Little Ed drew a
small transmutation circle on the inside of the armor with his own blood. “Take my leg. Take
my arm. Take my heart. Anything! You can have it! You can have anything, just give him
back. He’s my little brother. He’s all I have left.”

Then Little Ed clapped his hands. The last thing Gerard saw as blue light overwhelmed the
room was Little Ed losing his arm, too.

The setting shifted to a large room with a lot of books. Ed was older now, sixteen maybe, and
he was facing Gerard. At least, some form of Gerard. They were clearly about to fight, and it
wasn’t just a spar. Fake Gerard was fully decked in his graphene-skin, and he looked ready to
kill. Young Ed transmuted part of his automail arm into a lance.

“Let’s start.”

“Let’s finish!”

Young Ed ran at Fake Gerard. They fought without pulling blows. Young Ed was the one
throwing most of the punches while Fake Gerard leapt and dodged. Then Young Ed found his
opening and clapped his hands before pressing a palm to Fake Gerard’s stomach. Fake
Gerard shone with a blue light. Young Ed spun to gain momentum and speared Fake Gerard
right through the heart.

He removed the lance. Fake Gerard’s graphene-skin changed back to regular skin.

“Damn, kid. That was good.”

The guilt on Young Ed’s face was immediate. Fake Gerard fell to his knees. Young Ed was
quick to follow.
“What about Al? Where is he?”

“He’s back in the woods. I let him go.” Fake Gerard coughed up blood.

“But I thought . . .”

“We Homunculi, we’re born when an alchemist tries to recreate life. We’re weakened when
we’re close to the remains of whomever it was the alchemist tried to resurrect. That’s the
homunculi’s weak point. That’s how we can be killed, understand? And not come back.”

“But why . . . why are you telling me this?”

“So you can beat them, Ed. They sealed me for so long. You can’t let them stay in control.”

“They’re . . . like you?”

“I’m greedy as hell. Always out for myself. She always said it would be the death of me.”

Fake Gerard threw up too much blood for Gerard to be comfortable with. Young Ed
apparently felt the same as his shaky voice practically pleaded, “Greed—”

“Go get them. I’m counting . . . on you . . . kid.” Fake Gerard writhed around like he was in
pain before abruptly stopping. His eyes bulged. His body curled into a fetal position.

“Hey now. Greed, cut it out!” Young Ed shook Fake Gerard’s body. “This is a joke, right?
Stop! Hey! I thought nothing could kill you!” Young Ed stood and kicked Fake Gerard’s
body. “You’re the ultimate shield, right? You’re indestructible, right? I can’t kill you!”

Young Ed threaded his hands into his bangs and crumpled to the ground, his guilt, sorrow,
and desperation releasing themselves in the form of a terrible scream. Fake Gerard’s body
started to melt away as Young Ed sobbed on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!”

And suddenly they were back in Gerard’s entryway. Real Ed was in the same position Young
Ed had been in after killing Fake Gerard. He banged his head none-too-gently against the
floor as he begged for it to end. All around him were small, colorful gems shining with the
same glorious lights that he had taken from their chests.

Alphonse reached him first.

“Brother! Brother, please. It’s okay. I’m okay. None of that was—”

Ed’s body abruptly stilled before he yanked Alphonse into a tight hug. “Al. God, Alphonse, I
thought I had lost you again. I thought . . .” He buried his face in Alphonse’s hair and held the
younger boy tight enough that his grip was visible. A second later, his head was up. “That
means—”
Ed’s tear-filled eyes met Gerard’s, and the blonde was on his feet with one hand on Gerard’s
shoulder and the other hand lifting his shirt a moment later. His flesh hand pressed where he
had stabbed Fake Gerard. A second after that, his body sagged. Gerard caught him as he fell,
wrapping his arms around Ed to keep the younger man upright, and the blonde didn’t stop
him.

Ed laid his head tiredly on Gerard’s shoulder, quietly breathing him in. “You’re alive. Thank
god you’re alive.”

The warmth Gerard felt blossoming in his chest at someone caring so deeply for him—for the
fact that he was alive—was unrivaled by anything he had ever felt before.

“Yeah. I’m alive.” Gerard held Ed tighter, well-aware that someone else would be pulling
him away to check him over and ask questions in less than a minute.

“Brother, it wasn’t real.” Alphonse’s arm snaked its way under Ed’s, and Gerard forced
himself to let go.

“It was real, Al. There are these . . . worlds on the other side of the Gate. In some there are no
Cores. In some there’s no alchemy. In some that happens.”

“Brother, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It only happens when I mess with complicated Core alchemy, and like you said, it’s not . . .
really real. Not in this world.”

“But it feels real to you. I know it does.”

“I’m fine, Al.”

“You’re not! If you knew this would happen, you shouldn’t have done it.”

“If I didn’t do this, everyone here would be even more at risk than they already are, and it
would be because of me. I never know what it’s going to show me, only that it won’t be
pleasant. And if a few bad memories are the price of keeping you guys safe, I’ll gladly—”

Alphonse swung Ed around to hold him up by his cloak instead.

“Why? Why are you always so willing to sacrifice yourself for others? You said back there
that I’m all you have, but you’re all I have, too! I can’t lose you, Brother.” Alphonse’s
expression twisted with anger and sorrow. He looked ready to cry. “I can’t.”

Ed reached up to grip his brother’s wrists. “Sorry Al.”

Anything else Ed had to say was lost along with his consciousness.

(***Intertwined***)
A day and a half. That’s how long Fullmetal slept after creating the alchemic security
pendants. It drove Roy crazy with worry, and it gave him time to think.

The visions triggered by Edward’s Core alchemy weren’t something Roy could take lightly.
Those particular events weren’t something Ed had personally lived through, even if he felt
like it now, but it was the same Edward. That incredible empathy over the death of his
enemies and willingness to give up anything and everything for the safety of his brother. That
was Edward. And that meant the real Edward had felt very, very similar things in his journey
thus far.

The chimeras he had taken out. The alchemists he had murdered. The lives he hadn’t been
able to save. Roy had no doubt each and every one of them weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Roy had just been too blind to see it.

It wasn’t that Edward never broke down. He just did it alone. He fell apart and cried and
pleaded for the pain to stop, and then he got up and moved on before anyone could offer a
hand. Or more realistically, before anyone could offer to take some of the pain for
themselves.

When Edward finally opened his eyes, Pinako Rockbell was there to hand him a glass of
water and tell him what an idiot he’d been. Roy was there to hand him a fresh-pressed
uniform.

When this promotion-ordeal blew over, Roy would double his efforts to keep Fullmetal out of
the line of fire. Triple them. Anything to stop Edward from experiencing that pain again.

Edward accepted the water but didn’t drink. “What time is it?”

“Two o’clock. Your promotion is in four hours.”

Pinako pushed the uniform away. “Get that out of his face. He’s in no shape to get promoted
tonight.”

Edward sat up. “I’m fine, Granny.”

“Even if you are fine, which you aren’t, since when do you wear a uniform to anything?”

“Since the Führer’s a bastard.”

“The Führer has always been a bastard.”

“Yeah? Well, this is supposed to help him tone it down.” Edward shrugged like he didn’t
really get it, which was probably true.

Roy imbued gentle urgency into his voice as once again held out the uniform. “I understand
you don’t want me near Fullmetal right now, but this is as much for his safety as it is ours. He
needs to accept this promotion properly, or there’s no telling how the Führer will take it.
Bradley’s already been humiliated once. I doubt he’ll react well to being stood up on top of
that.”

Pinako scowled at Roy before patting down Edward’s un-brushed hair. “You always were one
to pick a fight with the biggest boy on the playground.” She turned back to Roy. “Alright,
hang it over there. He can go, but forget arriving early. He stays in bed for as long as
physically possible.”

“Of course. May I go over the specifics of today to better prepare him for the event?”

Pinako said, “Make it quick.”

Edward said, “Tell me everything.”

They glared at each other.

“Granny, this is stuff I need to know.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you. You need someone soft and sweet who’ll hold your
hand and encourage you to stay the heck away from people like the Führer. Like Alphonse
does for Winry.”

“I’m not Winry.”

“You certainly aren’t! Winry listens to me every now and again. She’s taller, too.”

“Like you have room to talk.” Ed turned from Pinako to Roy. “Ignore her. What is it I need to
know?”

“The ceremony is being held at Central’s Industrial Museum. Führer King Bradley will be the
one presenting you with your new rank, but protocol dictates you wait until he’s seated before
beginning your speech.”

“I have a speech?”

“It’s nothing difficult. You need to be respectful while staying believable. Say, ‘It’s an honor
to receive this promotion. I’ll do my best to better protect the people with my new position.’
And walk off-stage. No one’s going to believe you if you give anything longer, and no one
who knows you will believe it at all. They’ll think you’re baring your neck to the Führer, and
with any luck, he’ll think that, too.”

“It’s an honor to receive this promotion. I’ll do my best to better protect the people with my
new position.” Fullmetal looked like the words themselves tasted bad.

Roy nodded. “Right. There will be select few guards at this event, and no firearms will be
allowed. That gives you a distinct advantage because they aren’t going to take your arm.”

“Or your gloves.”

“My gloves are a different story, unfortunately. Have you ever been to the Industrial
Museum?”

“No.”

“The ground-floor is made of coal with a thin layer of glass separating us from walking on it.
If anything should happen to that glass, I run the risk of setting the whole place ablaze.”

“Shit.”

“The Führer may not know everything, but he knows enough to set the stage against us.”

“What are the chances this will run smoothly?”

Roy frowned. “You’ve never cared about chances of success before.”

“I’ve never had so many people I care about standing this close to the firing line before.”

Fullmetal’s inherent need to disregard all social context and do as he pleased was the source
material for an endless number of Roy’s headaches. Somehow, this docile Fullmetal was even
worse.

“We’re going to keep your family safe. Even if this doesn’t help, you’ve basically set us up to
link the Führer to the recent string of chimera attacks. Until then, Alphonse and Winry can
stay with us. And you as well, Miss Rockbell.”

“Nope.”

“If it’s a matter of having a place to stay or retrieving your things, we’ll handle it—”

“Just who do you think I am? Listen here young man, I didn’t spend my life up to this point
worrying about when I was going to die, and I’m not about to start now. If that fool of a
Führer wants to target my boys, he’ll have to go through me.”

“Granny . . .” Edward fiddled with the glass of water, then chugged it. He held the empty cup
out for her to take. “I’m really thirsty. Mind getting me a refill?”

Pinako frowned and took the empty glass. “If you want to speak to him alone, you can just
say so.” She made it all the way to the door before turning around and pointing at Roy. “Keep
your hands to yourself.” Then she was gone.

Roy chuckled.

“What?”

“I was just thinking that with you two and Winry as his role models, it’s a wonder Alphonse
turned out so well-mannered.”

Roy expected a sharp rebuttal, so of course Edward simply shrugged. “Pretty much a miracle,
if you ask me.”
Roy watched Edward run his hand through his hair a few times but said nothing. He wasn’t
new to the waiting game, and whatever the normally hotheaded blonde wanted to tell him, he
wanted to hear it.

“Mustang . . . Roy. I don’t plan on going down without a fight. That doesn’t mean I haven’t
thought about what happens if I do go down. Al and Winry are old enough to take care of
themselves. They’ve got Granny, too. They can handle any of the stupid, day-to-day things
that come their way. Unfortunately, some people hold grudges even after the battle is
finished. If I die, I need you to look after them. Not like move them to Central and lock them
down, but make sure they’re safe.”

Roy wanted to tell Fullmetal not to worry about things like that because they wouldn’t
happen, but the reality was that good men lost their lives all the time. Edward Elric, if
nothing else, was a good man.

“I will.”

Edward grinned brighter than the overhead lights. “I appreciate it.” He glanced around the
room once before tossing his sheets off and standing, black boxer-briefs doing nothing to
hide his lithe figure. “As thanks, I was thinking we could go on another date. You know, after
I finish accepting this bullshit promotion.”

“You have something in mind?”

“I do.” Fullmetal’s toothy grin took an arrogant turn that said his version of a date would be
far less relaxing than what Roy was used to.

“Then I look forward to it.”

Fullmetal hummed and removed his uniform from the dry-cleaning bag. He apparently had
no qualms about getting dressed in front of Roy, so Roy stared as he liked.

The wounds Edward had received from the chimera were an angry red, but they were healing.
There was minimal scarring at the juncture between Edward’s automail leg and flesh thigh.
Roy idly wondered if it was ticklish.

The boxer-briefs weren’t skin-tight, like Edward’s leather pants, but they didn’t leave much
to the imagination. Roy could easily make out the firmness of his ass and the soft outline of
his cock. Then Edward started roughly putting on his uniform, and Roy’s sexual attraction
was abruptly overwhelmed by his obsessive nature.

“Have you ever actually worn your uniform before?”

“No. Why?”

“I didn’t think so. Take your pants back off, and do your best not to step on them as you go.
A wrinkled uniform is just as bad as no uniform at all.”

Fullmetal looked both confused and incredulous, but even he seemed to realize that if anyone
knew how to make a uniform look good, it was Roy. He took the pants back off and held
them out in front of him, clearly unsure of how not to wrinkle them.

“Lay them on the bed and put your undershirt on first. Then your button-up, which should be
buttoned from bottom to top, no exceptions.”

Edward grimaced but did as he was told.

“Now put your pants on, and be sure not to crinkle the material as you go. Pull the waist up
over your shirt-ends, then put on your belt.”

“I don’t need a belt. These pants fit fine.”

“It’s not about necessity. It’s about uniformity. Put on the belt.”

Fullmetal sneered. He put on the belt.

“Good. You can leave your uniform jacket for last. I already set your rank-pins in the right
place. All you need to do is attach your pocket watch, and you’ll be set.”

“And you do this every day?”

“Lots of people do this every day.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me.” Edward went ahead and slipped on his uniform jacket,
buttoning it up as he moved back towards the bed. “You know where my watch is?”

Roy’s thoughts stuttered as he took in Edward in uniform. It wasn’t as though he was

surprised at how good Fullmetal looked. That was a given. It was more the thought that
Edward might one day wear his uniform for non-dire reasons to a function where they
weren’t constantly on edge. Just because Roy asked him to.

If Roy asked him to.

Though in a situation like that, Edward’s uniform would likely be wrinkled and unbuttoned.
If the unruly blonde had it his way, he probably wouldn’t even bother trading out his black
tank for the undershirt and button up. And that would be fine. It would be genuine.

“Mustang.” Edward waved a hand in front of Roy’s face. “My watch?”

“On the bedside table with your necklace.” Roy paused as Edward hooked his watch in place
and tuck his necklace beneath his undershirt. “Fullmetal, are you sure you’re ready for this?
There’s a good chance the Führer will take this chance to strike, and if your body isn’t in top-
shape, I’d rather not take the risk.”

“I already told you I’m fine.”

But his movements lacked their signature confident finesse, and Roy knew that even if
Edward’s body was technically fine, he was far from at his best.
“Right. The next thing to be aware of is the seating arrangements. All seats have been
assigned, though with what intentions, I can’t say. Maes, Gracia, Elicia, Alphonse, Winry,
Pinako, Gerard, you, and I will all be at the front, center table. Namae, Elaine, Hawkeye and
Havoc will be at the table to our right. Fuery, Breda, Falman and Alex Armstrong will be
behind them. To our left is Bradley, his wife, his son, and Solaris. The rest of the tables have
mostly new or un-notable soldiers and select press whose only visible connection is
expressing some sort of support for you. Gerard’s rag-tag group of friends will also be there,
though they’ve all been placed at separate tables.”

“Do seating arrangements actually matter?”

“Every detail matters. The better you know your surroundings and situation, the more likely
you are to come out on top.”

Edward huffed and leaned against the wall. “How do you handle all of this every-detail-
matters crap all the time? I think I’d die if I had to worry about stupid little things like who’s
sitting at what table everywhere I went.”

“They’re only stupid little details until you need them. I’d rather be over-prepared than
under.”

“I’d rather kick their asses and be done with it.” Roy and Edward shared a look, both
distinctly unamused, before the blonde cracked a grin. “Good thing we’re on the same side.
I’d hate to try and prepare against both our fighting styles.”

Thinking about the headaches Roy got preparing against Fullmetal alone, he couldn’t help
but smile back.

“Fair enough.”

(***Intertwined***)

Alphonse was smart. By most people’s standards, he was a genius. That didn’t mean he had
any misconceptions about his level of brilliance in the span of things. In comparison to his
brother, for example, he was probably considered little better than average.

A lot of people assumed Alphonse would resent his brother for constantly outshining him.
They didn’t see how he could stand to be so smart and still live in his brother’s shadow.

Those were the people Alphonse found fit to call idiots.

Edward didn’t outshine him. He shared his light. He brought Alphonse’s attention to theories
and connections Alphonse never would have made on his own. He expanded Alphonse’s
understandings and enlightened his worldview. He was everything a big brother was
supposed to be, and not looking up to him wasn’t something Alphonse could comprehend.
 Edward was his brother, his teacher, and his best friend.

So when they got to the doors of the Industrial Museum and Edward pulled him aside, he
thought nothing of it. They had plenty of things they preferred to keep between the two of
them, and it wasn’t unusual for Edward to forgo all social niceties and start a private
conversation in public.

Though Edward had spent the majority of the ride over tugging awkwardly at his uniform,
Colonel Mustang had made a point of alchemically ironing out the wrinkles and straightening
the crooked edges before Edward could leave the vehicle. It didn’t look bad on him, per se.
Just strange.

There was too much likeness to everyone else. He was too conformed.

“Yes Brother?”

Edward watched him for a full fifteen seconds before pulling him into a tight hug. Alphonse
tried to lift his arms to hug back, but Edward’s grip was too much. He whispered, “I’ve got a
bad feeling about this, Al.”

Alphonse stiffened, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t think I’m going to come out of it
unscathed. I need you to know I love you. And I’m proud of you.”

“Brother, stop. If you think this is going to go this badly, we can just leave.”

“We can’t.”

“I don’t understand. You don’t even want the stupid promotion.”

Edward hugged him even closer, if possible. “It’s not about the promotion. It’s about letting
the Führer know that if he wants to go after me, he has to go after me. I’m not running away.”

“Brother please . . .”

“I love you, Al. More than anything and anyone.” With a final squeeze, Edward pulled back
and grinned. And what hurt most wasn’t the goodbye in his stance, but the lack of regret.

He would do anything for Alphonse, and that included dying.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Most everything in the Industrial Museum set Roy on edge, but the two most notable things
were the way Alphonse sat as close to Edward as physically possible and the way Edward’s
lips subtly mouthed the words ‘It’s an honor to receive this promotion. I’ll do my best to
better protect the people with my new position’ over and over again.

Fullmetal was steeling himself against something—clinging to the plans and order Roy had
provided him with—and it was nerve-wracking. He had even been polite to the Führer.

They mingled until the food came out. Edward hardly touched his meal despite not having
eaten for two days. When Pinako insisted he eat, he laughed it off saying he was more tired
than hungry and returned to staring at the podium. When the waiter took his plate away, it
was still full.

The room quieted as Führer King Bradley rose and made his way to the stage. Pinako leaned
over and whispered, “I don’t know about you all, but I’m in no mood to watch Edward bend
to this fascist’s will. I’ll be in the ladies room until this is over.”

She left the room as he tapped on the microphone.

“Good evening! I would first like to thank you all for gathering here today. As you know,
we’ve come together to commemorate a very special young man who has shown a sympathy
and understanding for the suffering of others which we can only hope to emulate. Edward
Elric has spent many years in the military fighting not only for a better country, but for the
people. His most recent show of care came in the form of a rather unexpected, undeniably
necessary monument.

“Central Command now stands proudly as a reminder of the lives lost during the Ishval Civil
War and the need to avoid such horrific bloodshed in the future. Major Elric keeps us
grounded in the mindset that the search for justice and the greater good should not come at
the expense of the innocent. For that, I am proud to be the one to bestow his promotion.
Please welcome Lieutenant Colonel Elric to the stage!”

The Führer started clapping, and the rest of the room clapped along with him. Fullmetal rose
from his seat with a proud grace that Roy rarely saw outside of men prepared for a final
stand. His strength—both mental and physical—chilled Roy to the bone.

When Edward reached the podium, he shook hands with the Führer. Bradley proceeded to
unpin his current rank and replace it with his new one. They faced forward for pictures, none
of which Edward smiled for.

The Führer said, “And now a few words from our guest of honor.”
Fullmetal looked from table to table as he waited for the Führer to take his seat, eyes finally
landing on Roy’s. Roy gave a subtle nod, and Edward’s shoulders relaxed.

“It’s an honor to receive—”

Bang.

“Brother!”

“Fullmetal!”

“Ed!”

Fullmetal’s body fell backwards from the force of the shot, limp only for a moment before
twisting to clap mid-fall and slam his hands on the ground. A blue light shone in the balcony,
and whoever he’d targeted screamed. His expression flitted from pain and anger to fear, and
he clapped again. Before anyone could get any farther than the front of their tables, a blinding
blue light filled the entire room, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

When Roy opened his eyes again, their table was encased in a thick glass box. It was covered
little holes no bigger than Roy’s pinky. Air holes. The box was less than a meter larger than
the table on each side, and the ceiling was barely taller than Roy could touch.

It wasn’t just his table, either. As he glanced around, he saw every other section in much the
same predicament. Edward was the only one free, and he was coughing and holding his
bleeding chest on stage.

Alphonse rushed forward, uncaring of the glass, and pounded on the box. “Brother! Brother,
let me out. You need help. You—”

The responding crash came from an ugly, hairless, eyeless chimera throwing itself against
their glass box. Alphonse shrieked and fell back, hip hitting the table. Roy waited for a
breathless moment to see if the thing could break through. The chimera slammed itself into
the box again. Again. Again. It gave up on the fifth try, mouth bleeding from its own assault.
The box didn’t have a single scratch.

So not glass then.

Elicia cried while Alphonse frantically returned to hitting the wall. All Roy could do was
stare as the beast turned its attention toward the only accessible person in the room.

It leapt at Edward with ungodly speed. The blonde transmuted a lance onto his arm and rolled
out of the way. He used his automail leg to kick the beast back off the stage. Roy’s breath
hitched as he saw the blood already staining Edward’s uniform.

“Damn it Brother, let me help!” Alphonse threw himself against the wall.

Gerard, who had done nothing more than move from sitting on his chair to sitting on the
table, said, “Save your breath. That’s diamond.”
Roy turned to see Gerard lacking all of his usual amusement. He kept his voice calm as he
asked, “Alphonse, can you transmute a hole in it?”

“I-I can try, but I don’t think it’ll do much good. Diamond is just a bunch of carbon. There
isn’t anything for me to transmute it to.”

Roy cursed and clenched his fist at his side to prevent himself from punching the diamond
wall.

Maes looked around, then down. “Coal. Alphonse, it’s coal. Look at the ground. He used the
coal from the floor.”

Roy waited for the trademark Elric brilliance to light up Alphonse’s eyes, but all he got was a
look of despair. “Damn it! Brother showed me some of his notes on the possibility of
alchemy being based on molecular rearrangement, but I only glanced at it. And even if
I can figure out the circle, I don’t know the molecular difference between coal and diamond.”

“Fuck!”

Roy turned back to see Fullmetal under the chimera and a secondary beast rushing forth.
Edward shouted and threw the monster currently pinning him into the one that was running.
He jumped to his feet, blood painting the floor, and rushed forward to thrust his lance into the
stunned chimera’s skull.

Blood spattered against their box. Elicia loosed an ear-piercing scream.

One of the chimeras went limp while the other clamped down on Edward’s flesh leg. He
looked more angry than in pain and stabbed the chimera in the back. He got two hits in
before a third chimera tackled him from nowhere.

“Oh god! Ed!” Winry sobbed. “Please, Al. You’ve got to think. You’ve got to—”

“He doesn’t need to do shit. Even if we could get out of this box, we shouldn’t.”

Winry glared at Gerard through her tears. “We have to help him.”

“We get out of here, all we’ll be is a distraction.”

Alphonse turned and grabbed Gerard by the fur of his vest. “We can help him!”

Gerard sneered and took Alphonse by the wrists, physically forcing the younger man to let
go. “No. We can help him.” He motioned to himself, Alphonse, Roy, and Maes. “They can
draw the chimeras’ attention. Look at these tables. Brad sorted us out to have just as many
weaklings as there are capable fighters, and that means each and every one of us would be
distracted by someone else needing protection.”

“Everyone except you.” Roy attempted to call Gerard out on his claim, but the man only
frowned.
“Look, I know you aren’t happy about me being your competition, and I get that. I don’t like
having you as competition either. But I genuinely like Ed, and that means if he looked me in
the eyes and asked me to protect you instead of him, I would do it.”

Maes saved Roy from having to respond by saying, “I don’t like the sound of it, but I think
Gerard is right. Even if we get out, all it’ll do is distract him. Everyone he loves is here, and
if he wants any chance of defeating these things, he needs to know we’re safe.”

Another blue light flashed in the front of the room. The rumbling floor drew Roy’s attention
back to Edward. Fullmetal had pulled the ground up to create a sort of platform. Luckily, it
didn’t look like these chimeras could climb. Unluckily, they had enough teeth to take out
parts of the base.

Gracia’s voice trembled as she asked, “Why doesn’t he just put himself in one of these
boxes?”

Roy didn’t spare her a glance. “He can’t. There’s no coal left.” He used it all to protect
us went unsaid. “Alphonse, work on a circle that can get us out of here. If anyone can figure
out what Fullmetal’s done, it’s you.”

Alphonse looked equally distressed and glad to have something to do.

On the platform, Edward’s hand pressed harshly to his chest, white glove already stained red.
His lips twisted in a grimace as he took off his jacket and tugged at the neck of his shirts until
they tore enough to reveal the bullet wound in his chest.

If it hadn’t hit his heart, it had come pretty damn close.

Fullmetal crumpled the arm of his jacket into a ball and stuffed it into his mouth. He bit
down, pain and apprehension clear. Edward took visibly deeper breaths before snapping his
fingers. An overly large flame burst to life in his hand, then simmered down to lightly cover
his palm. Dread flooded Roy as understanding dawned.

Edward’s breathing quickened, nearing hyperventilation, then slowed to one long diaphragm-
based hold. His eyes screwed shut. He pressed his hand to his chest.

Even through clenched teeth and a jacket, the scream was heart-wrenching. Edward writhed,
nearly rolling off the edge of his perch as he tried to regain control.

Crash.

Fullmetal’s head shot up to see what made the noise, and Roy turned with him. Somehow or
another, Falman had evaded the diamond boxes. He was at the entrance door, jaw slack from
either shock or fear. A broken display case sat at his feet.

Roy saw Edward's shoulders relax as he realized that it was one of Roy’s unit, and the
Colonel hated himself even as he shouted, “He’s unarmed!”

The race to Falman began. Falman, who could hardly be considered useful in the field even
with a weapon. Falman, who Edward had met only thrice.
As much as it twisted Roy’s heart to admit it, he was already saying goodbye.

Edward would do a lot to protect Falman, but it wasn’t just Falman’s life on the line. He had
to worry about his brother, too. As far as Edward was concerned, in a race to save either
Alphonse or Falman, there was no choice to be made.

Roy prayed his bishop could pull it together.

Fullmetal moved to the other end of his platform to get a running start and used his hand as a
base to flip himself over the chimeras. They smelled him—smelled his blood—and made to
chase after him. Fullmetal must’ve already realized they were tracking by scent as he tossed
his bloody jacket back towards them. While they wasted precious seconds tearing it apart,
Fullmetal sprinted across the room.

Falman snapped out of his fear-fueled freeze too late, and Fullmetal’s body was the only
thing that stood between him and death.

“Run!”

Falman didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped back through the doors as Fullmetal flipped
one of the rushing chimeras onto its back, transmuted his entire arm into a lance, and drove it
through the beast’s shoulder. The other chimera ran past them, after Falman.

Elicia sobbed as Edward was tossed off the howling chimera. He rushed out of the room after
Falman and the uninjured chimera, the final monster close at his heels.

“Alphonse, we need that circle.”

“I’m trying! I think I might—I might have the formula down, but I still need the molecular
differences.”

Alphonse went back to staring at his table-etched diagram, and all they could do was wait.

(***Intertwined***)

Honestly, Vato hated fieldwork. He was a scholar, and he preferred it that way. “Articulation
over adventure,” his mother used to say.

Now, however, he wished he’d tried a little more adventure. He wished he could do anything
other than run for his life and hope Edward Elric could stop the . . . the things chasing after
them.

Vato glanced back and screamed when he saw two chimeras barreling down the hall.
Fullmetal was sprinting between the beasts, and he looked hurt. Really hurt. It terrified Vato
that such a strong alchemist could be so hurt by the things coming after him.
Fullmetal clapped and hit the ground. Vato lost his footing as the floor quaked beneath him,
throwing him one way and the chimera another. Blue light flashed on the other side of the
impromptu wall before a bloody metal lance rammed through it.

Once. Twice. Three times.

One of the beasts howled while the other ran around the blockade, forcing Vato back to his
feet and into a panicked sprint. He had to do something. To fight back or trap it or anything
that would make this nightmare end. Vato ducked into a room full of treasured mementos
from the industrial era. He grabbed the sharpest thing he could find and turned to prepare for
a fight.

The fight, unfortunately, was already there.

A chimera lunged at him with startling speed. It knocked him to the ground, sending the
metal artifact flying. He shoved his hands against its neck and pushed, doing everything in
his power just to hold it back. And even then, his efforts were nearly nullified by the length
of its jaw-snout alone.

It had teeth. Rows and rows of sharp teeth without any eyes to guide them. Its breath smelled
like rot. Vato screamed as it thrashed forward, intent to taste his face.

He prayed that Fullmetal would make his way out of the woodwork and save the day, but
chances were slim. Vato gathered all his courage, all his strength, and shoved the monster
away as hard as he could. It slid back centimeters—centimeters—and he held it there with a
single, fragile arm as he grasped desperately for the artifact.

When his fingers curled around metal, he slackened his extended arm and drove the
impromptu weapon as deep into the chimera’s shoulder as he could. It went in surprisingly
easily. The thing leaned back and yowled. He attempted to scoot away while it was
distracted, but the distraction only served to anger it.

One clawed paw came down on Vato’s chest, hard and heavy, and the only thought in his
mind was how he would do anything to breathe just one more time. The beast’s open mouth
sped towards Vato’s head. Saliva speckled his face. He felt teeth scrape his cheek before the
monster stopped.

Vato, still struggling to catch his breath under all that weight, opened his eyes to see
Fullmetal standing over him. Fullmetal’s flesh arm and shoulder were caught in the chimera’s
mouth. Vato could see its teeth digging into Fullmetal’s chest and the way Fullmetal’s arm
shook with the effort to keep it from reaching him.

“Go.”

The valiant part of Vato that had led him to become a soldier in the first place said to stay and
help. The coward in him turned tail and ran. Vato swung around three corners, raced down
two hallways, and stopped fifteen meters short of a wall-wide display case before realizing
nothing had followed him.
No chimera.

No Fullmetal.

His legs shook and his lips trembled. He told himself that this was just like getting lost—he
had to stay still until someone found him—but the image of Fullmetal above him stopped
that. Fullmetal, who had only personally spoken to Vato once, and only offhandedly, was out
there fighting so Vato could live.

If Vato couldn’t gather up the courage to go back and see this through, he didn’t deserve the
extended life Fullmetal was offering.

Steeling himself for the worst and repeating over and over again in his head that it was what
Mustang would do, Vato ran back. Fullmetal was where Vato had left him, but in much worse
shape. The chimera lay less than half a meter away, its head completely separated from its
body.

“Fullmetal?”

Sharp golden eyes looked up, taking a moment too long to focus on Vato. He opened his
mouth to speak but ended up coughing. Fresh blood dotted the floor from even that simple
motion, and Vato couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he knelt to touch the blonde.

“Fullmetal, it’s going to be alright. I’m going to get the Colonel and—” Vato reeled back as
he realized that there was a wound in Fullmetal’s chest bleeding more profusely than the rest.
He shoved his palm against the opening and prayed that would be enough. Blood stained the
wrists of his uniform. He sobbed. “It—it’s going to be alright, Fullmetal. They’re coming for
us, okay? All we have to do is wait right here and—and—”

Fullmetal coughed again, sending fresh red blood dribbling down his chin. “Tell Al . . . coal
is—is hexagonal.” He coughed again, making Vato press down harder. “Diamond is
tetrahedral.”

Normally tan skin was pale. Vato shook his head. “You’re getting a little delusional, but that’s
to be expected with the amount of blood you’ve lost. It’s normal. You’re doing fine, and—
and . . .” Vato couldn’t stop the sob that crawled out of his throat as he watched Fullmetal’s
blood soak through to the backs of his gloves. “Why didn’t you just run? You should have
just run!”

Even in his haze of blood loss-induced disarray, Fullmetal managed to look at Vato like he
was stupid. “You’re . . . his . . . family, right?” Fullmetal took in a deep, watery breath while
Vato felt something inside himself break. “Tell Alphonse.”

Vato hesitated one more time before taking both Fullmetal’s hands and pressing them tight to
the wound on his chest. “Keep pressure on it. I’m getting help.”

Vato ran faster than he knew he could. He ignored the stitches in his side and the pain in the
back of his throat. He didn’t even try to stop the flow of tears down his cheeks. When he got
back to the promotion room, he ran straight to the center table. For the first time in his life, he
completely bypassed Roy Mustang and instead pounded on the glass-like material in front of
Alphonse.

“Alphonse! Alphonse, he said—he said that coal is hexagonal and diamond—diamond is

tetrahedral. It’s tetrahedral!” Vato stared desperately at Alphonse, hoping to any god willing
to listen that the young man would know what that meant. “Please, Alphonse. He’s dying.”

Alphonse’s face paled further, if possible. The younger Elric bit his thumb hard enough to
draw blood, then used that like a pen to draw a complex circle on the see-through box. When
his hand hit the surface, a blue light shone. The front of the box turned black.

Alphonse smashed through a moment later.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I can take you to him.”

Alphonse nodded, and Mustang grabbed his arm.

“Let go of me!”

“Alphonse, stop. Let Maes get him.”

“Fuck you! He’s my brother!”

“And he needs you to stay calm. You’re the only one who can release people from these
boxes, and we need that. This isn’t just about making sure he’s alive now. It’s making sure
he’s able to stay that way.”

Vato cringed at the angry, commanding tone Mustang was using. Hughes stepped hurriedly
out of the box. “Alphonse, I need you to release Alex. He can help me get Ed to safety.”
There was a long, pained silence that Maes interrupted with a sharp, “Alphonse.”

Then they were on their way.

The last thing Vato heard before rushing off with Armstrong and Hughes was Mustang telling
Gerard to collect Fullmetal’s shooter.

(***Intertwined***)

“I hear your pet’s in pretty bad shape.”

Gerard’s eyes slid to the left as Solaris took a seat on the table he was leaning against. “So it
would seem.”

“I could help him, you know. We could help him.”

“How? By helping Brad with his little stone?”

Her smile was sweet as spun sugar. Gerard hated sweets.

“It’s not little, and it could save him. Save him or bring him back. Whichever comes first.”

Gerard looked back to the spot where Ed had made a platform to safely cauterize his own
bullet wound. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would Brad want in return? My undying loyalty?”

“That would certainly be welcome, but not necessary. You see, we’ve hit a little kink in our
chimera project, and it looks like we’re going to need some help ironing it out.”

Gerard gave her his full attention for the first time since she entered the room. “I don’t do
alchemy.”

“But you know someone who does.”

His lips twisted in an unamused sneer. “He won’t help with something like that.”

“He will if he thinks it’s to stop them rather than make them better. You saw him last night.
The boy has an eye for problem-solving.”

“And if he doesn’t make it?”

“I hear his brother has a pretty good head on his shoulders.”

Solaris leaned in to run a finger down Gerard’s hairline. He caught her wrist before she could
make contact. “No deal.”

“Oh? And here I thought you cared about all of your pets.”

“I think we both know Ed’s got a knack for figuring out when he’s being deceived. If I help
you, he’ll know. Then Brad will have his perfect chimera, you’ll have all the chaos you can
handle, and Ed will forever bundle me up with the Homunculi family. What part of that
sounds like what I want?”

“My, my. What a pessimistic outlook.” She tried to pull her hand back, only faltering slightly
when Gerard didn’t let go.

“Ed has always seen through us. Right from day one. You think it’s coincidence that he calls
you Lust, me Greeling, and Brad Pride? He may not get the reasoning behind it, but the
concept is there. All it would take is a little push, and he’d have us by the tail.”

“What a pretty thought.”

Gerard tightened his grip and her smile turned sour.

“You think I’m bluffing.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t sacrifice yourself any more than I would.”

Irritation and impatience burned in Gerard’s chest, and he gave a grin that reflected it.
“Wouldn’t I? You think lust and greed go hand in hand, but that isn’t true. What you feel
when you want something is a craving. You want it, and you want it now. If you don’t get it,
the moment passes, and you find a new fancy. No harm, no foul. Greed isn’t like that.

“Greed is an obsession. It’s a bottomless pit in the darkest part of your soul that begs for the
thing you want. All of it. When I want something, I want to drown in it. If I can’t get it,
there’s a chance it’ll pass. There’s a bigger chance that the knowledge I’ll never have it will
eat away at me from the inside. That kind of greed isn’t something you just live with.” Gerard
yanked Solaris closer, enjoying the sharp sound she made as she slipped from her perch.
“Personally, I’d rather die. Do you understand that?”

She didn’t answer. He pulled her close enough to be able to rip her throat out with his teeth.

“If Ed dies there will be no chance of me ever genuinely filling that void in my chest, and I’ll
spend the rest of my days taking it out on the people who made it happen. Because trust me
when I say this: As soon as the ability to sate myself truly vanishes, death will be a blessing.
It just comes down to who kills whom first.” Gerard squeezed her wrist until he felt the bone
quiver, then let go. “I don’t really care what you’re going to do next, but it would be in your
best interest to do it far, far from Ed.”

Gerard went back to staring at the makeshift platform while Solaris made herself scarce.

What a bitch.

(***Intertwined***)

Thirteen hours. Thirteen fucking hours of Edward in intensive care. Alphonse didn’t think
he’d felt this scared since his brother’s limbs were ripped off in front of him.

Maes entered the waiting room with a frown that made Alphonse’s heart freeze in his chest.

“How is he?”

Maes stared at Alphonse for a moment before sweeping over the other people in the room
and coming back to Alphonse.

“Maes.” Mustang drew Maes’s attention, voice lacking its usual authority.

Maes ignored the silent inquiry to say, “Alphonse, you can come back.”
Mustang’s hopeful expression crumbled. Alphonse had enough empathy about him to think
the rejection was sad, but not sad enough for him to give up or share any remaining time with
his brother. He followed Maes out of the waiting room without another word.

Edward’s room was large and empty save for a single bed and chair near the windows. His
brother, normally so loud and vibrant, was still as photograph. Alphonse’s stomach churned
when he saw how many machines Edward was hooked up to, and he cringed at the new burn
on his brother’s chest.

“Is he going to make it?”

Maes frowned deeper. He motioned for Al to take a seat. “Physically, Ed is fine. We got him
to the hospital quickly, where they were able to remove the bullet and give him a blood
transfusion. The doctors are calling it a miracle that he wasn’t dead from the bullet alone.
Whoever shot him hit his heart dead-on. With the caliber and distance, it should’ve blown a
hole in his chest and the floor after that.”

Al winced at the imagery.

“For whatever reason, it barely touched his heart, then stopped. Aside from the burn he gave
himself and some teeth-marks on his upper body, his wounds are superficial. He should be
fine.”

“But he isn’t.”

“No. Ed’s Core is drained. The doctors aren’t sure how it happened or what to do about it
because they’ve never seen it before. I’m assuming it’s the combination of the security
pendants he made for us and the large-scale alchemy he used to fight the chimeras. All we
know for sure is that without that Core energy, his body is shutting down.”

“Is there anything we can do about it? Any way we can help him?”

Tears shimmered in Maes’s eyes, pain finally breaking through. “He doesn’t have enough
energy on his own, but if another Core holder were to lend him some, it might kick-start his
Core into re-energizing.”

It only took Alphonse a moment to understand what Maes was implying. His blood ran cold.
“You mean bonding.”

“I do.”

“And if he doesn’t bond?”

Maes shrugged. “Maybe his Core will find a way to produce the energy on its own, but
chances are slim.”

“How slim?”

Maes didn’t respond, which was response enough.

“Why . . . why tell me? Shouldn’t Mustang be in here for this?”

“Alphonse, you know Ed better than anyone else, and that means you have the right to make
the call on whether or not Ed would want us to save him. If you say no, I intend to tell Roy
that the damage was too great and there was nothing we could do about it. Telling him
anything else—letting him know that he could save Ed but isn’t allowed—would serve no
purpose other than cruelty.”

“What if he doesn’t want to bond with Brother? What if he isn’t willing to do it without
Brother’s consent?”

Maes heaved a sigh as he stared at Edward, a defeated look dulling his eyes. “Then that’s on
him.”

“I . . . When do I have to decide?”

“Before leaving this room, if possible.”

“What? But I—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask. Believe me. If there were other options, I’d give them to you. The
problem is that these machines are only delaying the inevitable, and there’s no telling how
long they’ll be able to do it. Maybe he has weeks or months or will recover on his own.
Maybe his Core will shut off within the hour. We won’t know until he starts to improve or,
more likely, decline, and by then it’ll be too late.”

Maes’s stare was a hard apology. Sorrow and anxiety pulsed in Alphonse’s chest, filling him
to bursting. “What if I choose the wrong one?”

“Ed loves you. No matter what you decide or what the consequences of that decision may be,
that won’t change.”

Alphonse buried his head in his hands as he tried to think about what his brother would want,
but that was the real difference between them. Not brilliance or height or occupation.
Selfishness. Edward was only selfish on an artificial level while Alphonse was the opposite.

When push came to shove, Alphonse could only care about himself.

“Go get Mustang.”

(***Intertwined***)

When Maes brought Roy into Edward’s hospital room, Roy was prepared to see pale skin and
flatlined machines. He was prepared to see Alphonse crying over his brother’s corpse and
prepared to offer help in any way possible. He was prepared for a funeral.
So when he saw Edward’s chest rising and falling, the relief he felt was immense. His inhale
stuttered with it. His legs felt weak. “He’s alive.” Alphonse nodded and Maes left the room,
forcing Roy to reevaluate. “What’s wrong with him?”

“His Core is shutting down. He used up too much energy keeping us safe, and now there isn’t
enough left for him to do the same for himself.”

Roy took a few steps closer to the bed, but Alphonse refused to look away from his brother.
“Is there anything we can do for him?”

“Not we. You.” Alphonse finally gave Roy his attention, and Roy wished he hadn’t. Normally
kind amber eyes were cold and determined. Ruthless. “If you bond with him, it should give
his Core the energy it needs to refill itself and get him back to normal.”

The relief Roy had felt plummeted. His mind raced while his body all but froze. He didn’t
know whether to ask questions or wait for more information. He didn’t know what questions
to ask.

Alphonse seemed to take Roy’s silence as a refusal because he said, “I can’t make you bond
with him. I’d like to say I’ll understand either way, but I won’t. Not really. Ed is my world,
and if you don’t do this, he’ll most likely die. I won’t be able to move past that. I won’t ever
forgive you.”

Roy swallowed thickly, his normally sharp mind hazy with emotion. “We can’t un-bond
afterwards.”

“I know.”

“Is this what Edward would want?”

“Yes.”

As much as that was what Roy wanted to hear, his gut said Alphonse was lying. “How much
time do we have?”

The younger blonde shrugged tersely. “When he crashes, time’s up.”

Genuine fear curled in Roy’s stomach as he realized that Edward’s life was in his hands
alone. All he had to do was step forward and bond, and Edward would live.

But would he want to?

Fiercely independent. Brash. Hot-headed. Dying.

“Could I have a minute alone?”

Alphonse glanced up at Roy, equally ready to hate and thank him. “Only a minute.”

He left the room quietly, and Roy allowed himself a few seconds of panic. Whatever he did
here, there would be negative consequences. Edward hating him. Edward hating himself.
 Edward losing his independence. Edward dying.

“Fuck.” The Colonel gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, trying to force his hands to stop
trembling. “You have to know I didn’t want to bond with you this way, Fullmetal. I wanted
you to ask me. I wanted you to want it.” Roy took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

He used one trembling hand to touch Edward’s hair and shoulder and finally his chest,
sealing the deal with a chaste kiss.

Edward’s Core, once so bright and powerful, was almost hard to find. If not for their partial
bond, he wasn’t sure he could’ve. It was a soft, low glow. An ember begging to be fanned.

As his kiss began to taste like tears, he reached out.

A tentative touch was all it took before heavenly pleasure rocked Roy out of his presence of
mind, and it was out of his control. His Core flared once before rushing through him, out of
him, into Edward. Fullmetal gasped beneath him, body arching upward as he searched for
more of Roy’s touch.

When Roy’s Core energy returned, it was hotter. Like he’d replaced a bonfire with fire from
the sun, and the tears he tasted in his kiss were suddenly that of joy. He’d never felt so
powerful, so complete, and his entire being ached to make sure Edward felt the same.

Edward, who was no longer a separate person but part of his very soul.

It was impossible to say how long the bonding process lasted, but when Roy’s sense of self
returned, he could feel Edward’s Core again.

An extension of himself.

Blonde hair looked golden, tan skin was flushed, and Edward looked better. The machines
went crazy as all of his vitals spiked back to where they should be, and Roy felt like he was
tearing out his own heart when he forced himself to step away and give the doctors room.

For all he knew, he was.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Vato was alone.

He sat in the dim, lonely void of their usually bustling office area with a single lamp to
alleviate the darkness. As a general rule, he enjoyed solitude. It gave him the peace he needed
to introspect on days past and plan for the days to come. Solitude helped him center himself.
Being able to ensconce himself in that solitude was something he not only liked but needed.
That did not, however, mean he ever wanted his solitary life and his work life to collide.

He had always been a lonely child—too smart to play with the other children, too young to
talk to the adults—and lacked the charisma required to break through those barriers. He grew
up alone, made his way through the military academy alone, and assumed he would spend his
professional career alone, too. It was Roy Mustang who showed him he could have friends
that liked him without having to conform or dumb himself down.

While he was endeared to his solitude, he loved his friends. He never wanted to be in the
office when everyone else was gone because it wasn’t meant to be a solitary place. There
should always be laughing and gossiping and at least one person shooting nervous glances at
Hawkeye after putting off their duties just a little too long. This hauntingly empty room was
neither where he wanted to be nor where he should be.

He should be outside Edward’s hospital room with the others, consoling and chatting and
using trivialities to take his mind off of the horrifying events that just wouldn’t quit flashing
behind his eyelids. He wanted to be there.

He just didn’t deserve to be there.

Edward was dying, and it was because Vato had made himself a distraction in the middle of a
very important fight. If the blonde alchemist did die (please, God, no), then Vato had to know
he’d spent every second possible trying to fix things. Maybe not the things he wanted to fix,
like Edward’s health, but the things he could fix. Like their lack of preparedness.

The Führer was responsible for this. He’d hurt Edward and no doubt intended for a dozen
other people in the room to be maimed or killed. That was obvious, and obvious things rarely
interested Vato. The subtleties were what captured his attention.

In a room full of enemies and precious distractions, the Führer had set loose three terribly
strong chimeras. They could have decimated any number of people, especially with the
majority of the room unarmed. The intent was clear, and that made it illegitimate. The Führer
liked to play games. All having a clear motive meant was that the motive was a smokescreen
for something else.

A bullet.
Führer King Bradley, for whatever reason, wanted Edward gone. Not hurt or out of the way.
Gone.

The shooter was a wanted marksman that could give Hawkeye a run for her money. The gun
had been powerful enough to blow a fist-wide hole in Edward’s chest (and why it didn’t was
still a mystery). The distance had been so short that even Vato could have hit Edward. To
release chimeras who were attracted by blood immediately afterwards?

It wasn’t just overkill. It was a strict order not to take any chances.

So the Führer wanted Edward gone, and he wanted it to a desperate degree. What Vato didn’t
know was why. After all, as much as Edward was strong, he was still a kid. A sweet eighteen-
year-old boy with (please dear God please) his whole life ahead of him. Someone who didn’t
deal in politics and wouldn’t go after anyone who hadn’t gone after him first. Not a major
threat.

Bradley wasn’t a whimsical man, and that meant he’d targeted Edward for good reason. This
wasn’t about the ball or Central Command or some silly grudge match. Just because Vato
didn’t know what else it could be about didn’t mean there wasn’t some underlying cause.

So Vato was alone. He poured over everything he knew about, around, near, and speculated
of the Führer, and he did it with purpose.

Vato was useless in the field, yes, but not all battles were physical. Whether or not Edward
lived through this battle (please, God, please let him live), Vato would do everything in his
power to tip the scales toward victory in the war.

Edward’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

(***Intertwined***)

Alphonse expected Edward to get a lot of visitors. As much as his brother was abrasive and
disconnected with nearly all forms of social niceties, he was also kind. Maybe not in the
general sense of sparing people’s feelings and doing no harm, but in the meaningful sense of
doing what was right. He stood by his morals and protected those weaker than himself. He
was a hero in all ways that mattered.

So, after his Core energy levels stabilized, visitors coming to wish him well was a given.

Al expected Winry to stay by them as much as she could. He expected Maes—though Gracia
and Elicia made themselves scarce—and he expected Namae and Elaine. He even expected
Mustang’s near-constant presence. Al and Winry hadn’t been able to stand being in separate
rooms for the first few days after bonding, and they were both perfectly safe. The pull for
Mustang to stay near Edward had to be overwhelming.
Not that either Mustang or Alphonse gave any attention to the fact that the bonding had taken
place. After muttering an off-handed, “Thank you,” Alphonse had barely bothered to
acknowledge the Colonel’s existence. Maybe because if he did, he would have to admit
(either to himself or the Colonel, he wasn’t sure) that there was a chance his brother would
have preferred death.

Part of him even expected Gerard to visit, but the questionably-close-to-Edward Homunculi
never showed up.

The one person Alphonse neither expected nor wanted to show up was the Führer, yet there
he was. Winry was asleep in the next room over. Mustang had left to change and get Edward
new clothes. Maes had gone to check on his family. Namae and Elaine were home for the
night. That left Alphonse, alone with a defenseless Fullmetal Alchemist and Führer King
Bradley.

“Get out.”

The Führer’s smile didn’t waver and his steps toward Edward’s bed didn’t halt. “I apologize
for the late visit. I’m sure you were looking forward to a quiet, restful night, but I wouldn’t be
able to live with myself if I didn’t come at least once. Your brother saved us.”

“He didn’t save you. You’re the one who did this to him.”

The Führer’s lips drooped in a frown that made Alphonse momentarily question his lack of
sincerity. “I can see why you would feel that way, but I assure you, I only wanted to honor
your brother’s achievements. I never meant for any harm to come to him. To any member of
your family.”

Alphonse saw red. His level-headed nature was lost to the fury of this monstrosity carelessly
prodding wounds not yet healed, and position as Führer be damned, Alphonse was ready to
fight. The temperature in the room went up ten degrees. For a split second, Alphonse thought
Edward’s Core had sensed his distress and reacted accordingly.

Then he saw Mustang in the doorway.

The Colonel—always calm, always collected—was livid. His posture was relaxed, his body
language was respectful, but his eyes . . . Alphonse never wanted to be on the receiving end
of that look.

“Führer. I believe it’s time you left.”

“Colonel Mustang. As I’m sure you’re aware, this chimera incident has shaken—”

“Alphonse doesn’t want you anywhere near Edward. As both a leader and a family man, you
should be able to empathize well enough to regard his wishes.”

The Führer’s brows furrowed and his lips tugged down, once again wary and hurt, but there
was an underlying displeasure that hadn’t existed before. He said, “Yes. Yes, I see that now. I
was just trying to give my condolences to the lad and explain I had no part in—”
“Regardless of the role you played in the Elrics’ current predicament, they blame you. As
such, your presence is causing them great strain. Strain which, as you’ve already noted from
the severity of their situation, they cannot take. The most you can do for them is to leave.”

The words were understanding. The tone was empathetic. The threat was clear.

Remove yourself before I remove you.

The two military officials stared each other down for a few seconds before the Führer
conceded with a simple, “Of course. I wouldn’t wish upon them any more misfortune than
they’ve already experienced.” He turned to Alphonse. “Let me know if there’s anything I can
do for you.” The Führer reached toward Edward’s leg with a gentle motion that had Alphonse
up in arms and Mustang’s fingers twitching to snap. Führer Bradley gave Edward’s femur a
single, gentle pat, nodded to Mustang, and left.

Alphonse immediately straightened the sheet where the Führer had touched, as though he
could wipe away the action.

Mustang snarled as soon as the door was shut and returned to his spot by Edward’s bed.
“How long was he here?”

“He showed up a few seconds before you did.”

“Did he do anything?” Mustang ran a gentle hand through Edward’s bangs, worry and relief
clear in both his eyes and posture.

“Nothing you didn’t see.”

Alphonse took a moment to watch the Colonel check over Edward, noting how he made sure
to keep physical contact and seemed to lose all sense of his usual arrogant demeanor.
Alphonse wondered if Mustang was touching Edward so much now because he knew he was
going to have to stop once Edward woke up.

Guilt flushed through Alphonse as he thought, not for the first time, that his brother might not
be the only one to suffer from their impromptu bonding. Mustang would have to live with
having a bondmate, arguably the perfect bondmate, who wanted nothing to do with him.

Alphonse just as quickly thrust the guilt away by remembering that if they hadn’t bonded,
Edward would be dead. There were no scenarios worse than that.

“Thank you. I don’t . . . I don’t know if I would’ve been able to make him leave on my own.”

Mustang glanced up at Alphonse with a hard calculation that just wasn’t there when looking
at Edward. “Don’t thank me. I should’ve been here to make sure he never got into the room
in the first place.”

“Going home was necessary. You’ve got an image to upkeep, and Brother would be angry if
he woke up and all he had to wear were hospital pants and a bloody military uniform.”
Mustang hummed but gave no other response, his fingers still gently weaving through
Edward’s hair.

Alphonse swallowed the guilt down, and his apology went with it.

(***Intertwined***)

When Ed woke up, he felt warm.

Sometimes, he fell asleep researching in front of the fireplace at Mustang’s. Regardless of

how long he was asleep or when he woke up, the fire was always lit by the time he opened
his eyes.

He assumed this was one of those times.

That was why the sight of Mustang reading files beside him wasn’t startling. If anything, it
was welcome. Ed so rarely had the opportunity to watch Mustang without the arrogant
bastard knowing he was being watched. Much as Ed liked looking, it wasn’t worth the ego-
stroking that inevitably tagged along.

Now though, with Mustang’s eyes glued to the papers in front of him, Ed could admire freely.

As much as Ed knew his superior officer was handsome, he had never noticed the insane
degree of handsomeness. Or maybe this was new. Surely Ed couldn’t have missed the way
Mustang’s hair complemented his eyes or the perfect arch of his cheekbones. His lips were
full and looked capable of doing more pleasurable things than spewing political, social
bullshit while his strong jawline begged to be traced.

His uniform was perfect—an oddity, considering he was at home—and the broad chest
beneath it seemed more inviting than any bed Ed had ever laid on. Large biceps tapered down
to gloved hands and elegant fingers, and Ed suddenly envied the papers exposed to that
beautifully casual touch.

Without warning, obsidian eyes raised, and the warmth in Ed’s chest brightened ten-fold. He
didn’t even think about stopping the lazy smile taking over his lips.

“Edward—” Whatever Mustang had to say seemed to die on his tongue.

Ed raised a brow as amusement danced into his heart. “Yeah, Roy?”

Ed couldn’t say which of them stilled faster.

Roy?

Why the fuck had he just called Mustang by his first name? He hadn’t even thought about it.
The name just slipped out. Naturally. Like the man in question wasn’t a narcissistic asshole
who lived to make Ed’s life more complicated than necessary.

“Brother?”

Ed swung around to see Al, and he noticed for the first time that he wasn’t in Mustang’s
living room. He was in a hospital. But there was no reason for him to be—

The promotion.

Memories of the speech and the fear and the chimeras rushed back with enough intensity to
have Ed curling towards his knees and cradling his head in his hands. He remembered getting
shot. He’d caught his shooter. Did his shooter stay caught? There were chimeras. Three of
them. He’d encased everyone in diamond boxes and there was screaming. So much
screaming. He’d felt weak, so he had to stop the bleeding.

How did he stop the bleeding?

Ed looked frantically to his chest to see it covered in fresh white bandages, but he could feel
the wound beneath it.

Fire. He had used fire. Cauterized the wound and then there was a crash. One of the boxes?
No, both of the remaining chimeras had been focused on him. A display case. It had been one
of Mustang’s men. He’d been away from his table for some reason and—

“Falman. Is he okay?”

Ed looked desperately between Mustang and Al, both of whom stared solemnly back.

“He’s fine. You saved him.”

That was good then. Mustang sounded thankful. Proud. The unspoken praise made contented
butterflies blossom in Ed’s chest, and it was through that unprecedented sense of happiness
that Ed noticed the wrongness of it all. He’d always liked it when Mustang thought well of
him, but it was an off-handed like. Something easy to brush aside and ignore.

Ed only took three seconds to examine himself: one to notice the sheer power thrumming
through his system, one to connect that familiar power to Mustang, and one to come to the
only conclusion that made sense.

Ed jerked away from Mustang as though he’d been burned. He practically fell into Al’s arms
as he went past the edge of the bed with no signs of stopping. His head dizzied with
realization. His stomach churned truth. His heart remained afloat with conflicting—
constricting—happiness.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

“Why the fuck are we bonded?”

He felt Al’s hands on his shoulders like lead and pulled away from that, too.
“Brother, please calm down. I know this isn’t how you wanted it—”

“Not how I wanted it? It’s not a matter of how! It’s not even a matter of who! I didn’t want it
at all!”

“Fullmetal . . .” Mustang stood up slowly, as though he was afraid quick movements would
set Ed off. Ed’s fear and fury stuttered for a moment to get lost in how devastatingly
handsome the older man was before it all came crashing back. He put a hand to his chest
because he couldn’t breathe.

“Brother!”

“Fullmetal.”

“We can’t be bonded. We can’t be . . .” Ed trailed off as he pressed more heavily against his
chest and felt the surgical scar in the middle of the burn. He silently begged for the
discomfort to drag him from this nightmare, but above the sharp pain was the nearness of
Roy goddamn fucking Mustang, and the bliss of having him so close trumped all else. Like a
plague.

“Brother, stop. You’re re-opening your wound.”

“Why are we bonded?”

Ed was shouting—shouting at Al—and he hated himself but he couldn’t trudge through the
panic quickly enough to make himself stop.

“Because you were going to die!” The anxiety rushing in Ed’s ears quieted, allowing him to
see the sorrow embedded in his brother’s eyes. “Your Core was shutting down. You didn’t . . .
you didn’t have enough energy to keep yourself alive. If he hadn’t bonded with you, you’d be
dead. I couldn’t let that happen.” Al swallowed thickly, tears painting his cheeks with two
thin, parallel lines. “You’re all I have, remember? I can’t lose you.”

Ed knew the decision must’ve been a hard one and that he would’ve done the same thing had
Al been the one leaning into death’s embrace. That didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Mustang took a tentative step forward, and Ed flinched violently back. A deep-set pain
flashed across Mustang’s face before it was hidden behind a calm mask. Ed felt a knife carve
itself into his chest cavity for being the one who hurt him.

Ed whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Sorry for what though? For panicking? For disliking that he had been forced to bond? There
was nothing to apologize for, and they must’ve known it, too, because they were looking at
him with so much pity that he was surprised they weren’t all drowning in it. He didn’t need—
didn’t want—their pity. He redirected his apology to something he actually felt guilty about.

“Sorry for making you waste your bonding on me. It must’ve been”—Beautiful. Completing.
Devastating—“hard.”
Ed couldn’t make himself look either man in the eyes and forced himself not to move away
when Al approached him again. “It’s not like that. You were his Intended anyway. He isn’t
—”

Ed’s eyes snapped up to Mustang at the same time that the Colonel shouted, “Alphonse!” but
it was too late.

“Fullmetal, I didn’t plan this. I wanted to bond with you, yes, but with your consent.”

Ed took deep breaths to stave off the panic clawing at the edges of his mind. He had been
dying. Bonding was the only way to save him. Al had asked Mustang to do it. Mustang had
agreed, but he’d wanted to bond anyway. Everyone got what they wanted but Ed.

“Why couldn’t you have just let me die?”

The words were out of his mouth before he knew he was saying them. Al froze, and they
were so close that Ed could feel the way he trembled. Ed refused to look away from Mustang.

They didn’t understand. Neither of them understood. Al had the bondmate he’d been pining
after for the majority of his life, and Mustang had always been able to bond with whomever
he wanted. Now he had Ed, and the week of bliss would start and end quicker than Ed could
blink. Then Ed would be left cold and alone with a bond that ached for him to crawl to
Mustang’s feet and beg to be taken back.

“I need space. I need time to think.”

“Brother . . .”

“Please. Please, Al.”

Al looked like he was in pain but left anyhow. Mustang’s expression gave away nothing of
what he felt, but Ed somehow knew that the man was being dragged down by the despair of it
all.

Could bondmates sense each other’s feelings?

Ed didn’t allow himself to think on it as the Colonel nodded and left. All he could worry
about, at least for that moment, was himself. He needed air.

The stupid god-fucking useless window didn’t open, and Ed wasted no time transmuting a
hole in the wall. A fresh breeze flowed in, the chill of spring raising gooseflesh on his
exposed arms. He needed more. Somewhere open and clean. Somewhere without people to
pity him or prod him or tell him how everything was going to be fine.

He jumped out of the hole in the wall and rolled to soften the landing, breaking into a sprint
less than a second later. He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t care. Thin
hospital pants did nothing to protect him from the weather. Chill turned to biting cold as he
ran, but the crisp air filling his lungs only reinforced his need to keep moving.
When he finally stopped, he was somewhere in the woods. It would be kilometers back to
town, no doubt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Here, alone and able to sort out his
feelings without that oppressive, bonding-induced happiness smothering his soul, he could
breathe.

As long as he ignored the intense want to turn right back around and cuddle into Mustang’s
side, it could even be considered pleasant.

He filled his lungs to the brim, enjoying the burn that always came with running too fast for
too long, then screamed. It was angry and desperate, fulfilling no purpose other than
throwing Ed’s sorrows to the wind. He screamed until his throat felt raw, then took his
frustrations out on the nearest tree. He pounded bark until his flesh knuckles were bloody and
raw. It wasn’t enough. He curled his flesh fingers into a painful fist and positioned himself to
do it again.

Strong fingers curled around his wrist before he could land the next hit. Ed tilted his head
back to see who dared interrupt his rampage and was genuinely surprised to see stormy grey
eyes staring back.

“What do you want?”

“We’ve already sparred. That leaves a good talk and a long fuck. Your choice.”

Ed jerked his hand forward, but Greeling’s grip was unrelenting. “I don’t want to talk, and I’ll
never want to fuck, so I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

“You’re bonded. Why?”

Ed scoffed at the irony of being asked that question. The girth of his bitter grin made his
cheeks hurt. “What? You don’t buy us being madly in love?”

“I buy him being madly in love with you.”

“And me?”

“You look like you’d rather be dead.”

Ed’s smile dropped as he remembered the harsh words he’d muttered to Al and Mustang.
This time when he pulled his arm away, Greeling let him go.

“Yeah? Well, death apparently isn’t an option for me, so I guess that’s too bad.”

He reared a metal fist back to hit the tree only to have Greeling’s fingers encase his wrist
once more. Greeling’s other arm wrapped around Ed’s waist and pulled him against a broad
chest. Soft breaths warmed the nape of his neck as Greeling touched his forehead to the back
of Ed’s scalp.

“You’re re-opening your wound.”

“I don’t care.”
Ed made to struggle only to find that Greeling’s hold wasn’t something he could get out of.
Days of not eating, intensive fights, over-using Core alchemy, running, and general stress
were finally making themselves known. After a few minutes of attempted thrashing, Ed
allowed himself to relax into the strong yet gentle hold.

“Just un-bond with him.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Because you have Fire Cores.”

Ed attempted to tilt his head back and question how Greeling could possibly have known
that, but the older man didn’t allow it. They stood in silence for half a minute before Ed
pressed his face against Greeling’s stupidly fluffy vest and quietly admitted, “Yeah. Because
we have Fire Cores.”

“What if I told you there’s a way?”

“To un-bond? You said it yourself. We can’t—”

“But if you could.”

This time when Ed made to turn his head, Greeling let him. Stormy grey eyes, normally
crackling with mirth, were serious.

“Tell me.”

“Not here. I’ll tell you at my house, where it’s safe. We’ll get you food and re-bandage your
wounds. Then we’ll talk.”

Ed’s upper lip curled in a snarl. He could practically hear Mustang’s voice in the back of his
head telling him not to be so trusting. “What makes you think I want to be alone in a house
with you?”

All too suddenly, Greeling released him and took a step back, leaving Ed to fumble for
balance. “I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want done.” Greeling offered a hand,
much like he had when asking Ed to dance.

Against all common sense, Ed accepted.

(***Intertwined***)

Greeling’s house was just as gaudy and ostentatious as Ed remembered. The older man led
him through a series of unfamiliar hallways before stopping in front of a large, intricately
carved door.
If Ed had any doubts about whose bedroom it was, they were put to rest when Greeling
opened his second closet to show off way too many sets of relaxing clothes. Sweatpants, T-
shirts, basketball shorts, cut-offs: he had them all, and he had them in spades.

“Pick whatever you like, but don’t bother putting it on until we’ve changed your bandages.”
At Ed’s odd look he added, “Unless you like thin, scratchy pants and showing off your abs?
I’m not going to complain either way.”

“How did you find me?”

Greeling hummed in lazy question.

“In the woods. I didn’t even know where I was going and I have no clue where the hell I
ended up. How did you find me?”

“I followed you.”

“From where?”

“The hospital. All your sweetsie pals were so busy holding your hand that they completely
ignored outside threats. I know Brad, and he doesn’t have any qualms with kicking a dog
while it’s down.” Greeling paused for a second, lips pursed in thought. “Not that I’ve got
room to talk, mind you. Takes one to know one, I guess.” He shrugged uncaringly, and Ed
respected the honesty.

“Brad ever show up?”

“Once, but Roy-boy was right behind him, so I let it be.”

Ed nodded and muttered a quick, “Thanks,” which Greeling didn’t acknowledge. Ed was
thankful for that, too. Greeling then made his way back toward the hallway without glancing
in Ed’s direction, and Ed’s heart did an awkward backflip that felt too close to the fear of
being left alone.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a first aid kit and some food. I assume you don’t mind leftovers?”

“What? No personal chef?”

Greeling’s lips quirked in a sardonic grin. “Believe it or not, I’m not a fan of strangers
wandering freely through my home.”

He was gone before Ed could ask anything else.

The room, while far from bare, wasn’t quite as lavish as the rest of the house. The bed was
large, and the pillows looked like they could be made of clouds, but the blankets were a dull
brown. The walls were a muted blue and empty aside from a single oil painting of a cherry
blossom tree on a hill. The lighting was dim, and as much as Ed found the rest of the house
distasteful, this room was comfortable.
Ed perused Greeling’s closet with little to no interest, eventually settling on a sleeveless shirt
and sweatpants. Seeing as there were no wounds on the lower half of his body, Ed went ahead
and changed into the pants. They were luxuriously soft—probably the softest thing he’d ever
worn—with a thick inner lining that the cool spring air would have a hell of a time getting
through. Ed didn’t even mind the way the pantlegs draped over his feet like too-long curtains.
They were just so comfy.

Greeling re-entered the room with an armful of medical supplies and a plate of what looked
like steak, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. “I like mine rare, but re-heating it made it
medium.” He handed the plate to Ed, who started stuffing his face. And dear sweet god, it
was good. Could everyone cook but him? Greeling watched him eat with an arrogant grin. “I
take it you like it?”

Ed swallowed with another forkful of steak halfway to his mouth, barely pausing to say,
“Being a good cook doesn’t make you less of an asshole.”

Greeling’s grin stretched to show the amusement he found in Edward’s particular brand of
course humor, but he didn’t say anything until Ed’s plate was empty and on the nightstand.
“You know, I heard you had an appetite to suit an army, but that was astounding. Where does
it go?”

Ed shrugged. “I work out a lot. And it’s only a theory, but I’m pretty sure Core strength is
positively correlated with metabolism. Cores give us power and take stamina to use. It only
makes sense that the use of our Cores draws off calories like any other action. More powerful
Cores burn more calories.”

“And you’ve got a hell of a powerful Core.”

Ed shrugged again, but the question was rhetorical so it didn’t much matter. “What are the
chances I can get some more of that?”

“One hundred percent, after we change your dressings.”

Ed lifted his arms to parallel the bed the moment he heard he could have more food, and
Greeling went straight to cutting off the bandages. Once Ed was free, Greeling traced his
newest scars. He caressed the lines from the original chimera attack, trailed over the little
punctures Ed assumed were from teeth, ghosted over the burn wound and surgical scar, and
finally pressed a full hand to Ed’s abs.

“You going to re-bandage me, or was this just a ploy to feel me up?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

Ed snorted but let the older man do as he pleased. After what felt like a rather thorough
examination of his torso, automail included, Greeling picked up a wet washcloth and started
wiping away the blood and old medicine. Despite Greeling’s rough demeanor and general
disregard for the worth of a life, his touch was gentle.
Maybe it was because he knew it would piss Mustang off, or maybe he just wanted someone
to touch him without dangling a bond—literal, familial, or otherwise—over his head, but
Ed’s ever-racing, stress-addled mind lulled as he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of
being taken care of.

When Greeling started applying god-only-knew what medication, he was strictly

professional. That didn’t fade when he moved to bandaging. Ed waited for the running
commentary on how good he looked in the other man’s clothes or how being able to feel Ed
up made the whole injury part worth it, but it never came. By the time Greeling tied off the
dressings for both his chest and newly injured fist, and Ed slipped the too-long, too-wide shirt
over his head, he was halfway to concerned.

“You okay there?”

“Asks the bleeding boy.”

Ed scoffed good-naturedly. “Where are your smart remarks about how you’ve finally got me
in your bed?”

“You want that?”

“I want people to stop treating me like I’m going to break any fucking second.”

“You think that’s how I’m looking at you?” Greeling’s brows rose to his hairline while his
grin widened enough to make teeth shine like fangs. “I don’t think you’re breakable. I think
you’re invincible. I think it doesn’t matter what I do to you because you’ll find a way to
bounce back better than you were before. The only reason I’m not asking you to bed with me
is because I like my lovers to pass out from exhaustion, not blood loss.”

Ed ignored the crude insinuation that somehow made him feel more comfortable instead of
less. “You’ve got to be shitting me. What makes you think I’m invincible?”

“Lots of things. You freely spending your accumulated hero points to help others, for one.”

“The fuck are hero points?”

“All that good karma shit adds up. For most people, their biggest hero points come from
holding the door open for someone and patting sad people on the back when they need it. For
you, it’s saving lives. Hero points are meant to make your life better, yet you go and use them
up on strangers. It’s no wonder your life sucks.”

Ed stared at Greeling, unamused. “So what? You want me to use them on you instead? And
how the fuck would you even do that? Direct your karma?” Ed’s brows scrunched as he tried
to discern whether hero points were metaphorical or not. “What do you do with your hero
points?”

Greeling barked out a laugh. “I don’t have any hero points.”

“Is that why you’re here then? Is that why you stood guard at the hospital and why you’re
sitting across from me, patting me on the back?”
“Course not. I’ve got too many villain points to ever do enough good to accumulate hero
points.”

Ed rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of Greeling’s explanation and asked, “Then why?”

“Because you’re interesting, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been genuinely interested in
anything. Besides . . .” Greeling leaned back languidly, practically oozing arrogance. “You
need me.”

Ed’s face twisted in a fierce snarl. “Like hell I do.”

Greeling’s responding laughter was obnoxiously condescending. “You've been forcibly

bonded to someone you barely consider an ally, and you’re convinced it’s permanent. You
just had one of the most important decisions of your life ripped out from under you, and you
can’t even whine to the people closest to you because they’re responsible for it.”

“How do you—”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Ed stopped to assess Greeling more seriously, for once looking past the wild, adrenaline-
seeking light whirling through stormy grey eyes to examine the sharp intelligence ready to
pierce anyone or anything within range. It was that intelligence—the invasive, unrelenting,
familiar intelligence—that made Ed cave.

“It was supposed to be my choice. The one thing that no one could take from me because it
could never affect anyone else. It was mine.”

“And now it isn’t.”

Ed stared into grey eyes and watched the way Greeling watched him back. Greeling was
soaking in the information Ed gave him strictly for information’s sake. To solve the puzzle.

“Now it isn’t.” Ed nodded. “They’re going to expect me to go back there and attempt a
relationship with Mustang. And maybe not today or tomorrow or even this year, but some
day he’s going to expect me to tell him I love him. That I want to be with him forever. Fuck. I
don’t even know if I’m capable of loving someone like that. Friends, yeah. Family. But
romantically? How can I . . .” Ed curled his fingers into his bangs as he tried to find a way to
phrase the turmoil he felt.

Greeling saved him the trouble without ever breaking his hungry, obsessive stare. “How can
you promise them a world of tomorrows when you aren’t even sure you’ll make it through
today?”

“Exactly.”

Greeling got close enough for Ed to feel hot breath against his lips. “You’re a hypocrite.”

“What?”
“You’re terrified someone’s going to ask for undying love from your always-ready-to-die
heart, so you run away. Yet that’s exactly what you want in return.”

“I’m not asking for anyone’s undying love.”

Greeling’s grin was unforgiving as he leaned away. “You’re a shit liar, too. If you didn’t want
monogamous love and unquestionable devotion, we’d have fucked by now.”

Ed snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s the basis for your claim? The fact
that we haven’t fucked?”

“You think I’d be a bad partner?”

“No.”

“You find me unattractive?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Ed opened his mouth only for the words You could never love me to die before coming to
fruition. He turned to stare at the wall instead. “What? So I’m doomed to be alone because I
want love I can’t give?”

Silence stretched between them for too long to be considered natural. Ed turned back to find
Greeling observing him with impossibly more interest than before.

“No. I think you’re doomed to torture yourself until you either admit that love doesn’t have to
be forever or accept that taking comfort in a like-minded, warm body is a fine way to go
about life.”

“And what? You’ll be the best option no matter what path I choose?”

This time it was Greeling who scoffed. “No. I can’t love you. All I can do is learn how to
make your body come undone in the most pleasurable way possible, then proceed to do it
over and over again until all the bad things melt into the background. Good talks. Quick
spars. Long fucks. They’re all I’m good for.”

There was a certain emptiness in Greeling’s voice that said he wasn’t happy with the truth he
was spouting. Ed reached forward to grab a handful of Greeling’s shirt and yank him down to
eye-level.

“That’s bullshit, and all you believing it does is make you a fucking idiot. Not being able to
love people doesn’t reduce you to a fun night out. It just means you can’t love people.”

At that point, Ed wasn’t sure which one of them he was defending. Greeling seemed to figure
it out easily enough as his gaze softened into something fonder. He maneuvered his way out
of Ed’s grasp. “I’m going to go make more food. You’re going to stay in bed. When I come
back, I’ll explain how to un-bond.”
 And maybe that was why Ed felt comfortable around Greeling when he couldn’t stand the
touch of his beloved brother. He had a habit of making friends out of good people, and every
one of those people would’ve been pitying and sympathetic to his plight while telling him
that he was wrong. That he could love someone. He just hadn’t yet.

Greeling, a self-centered, murdering, avaricious beast, accepted his words at face value and
moved on. He didn’t care for the righteous, love-conquers-all morals that everyone else in
Ed’s life seemed to live by. That meant he could understand why Ed couldn’t measure up to
that heavy, all-or-nothing thought process.

It was okay to be incapable of falling in love.

Greeling got halfway to the door before Ed said, “I don’t buy that bullshit about you being
stocked up on villain points. If there are hero points and villain points, there have to be
neutral points, too. Sure, yours are probably chaotic fucking neutral, but they’re still neutral.
You aren’t a bad guy.”

Greeling’s grin was as dangerous as the man himself. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 22
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It took Ed all of five minutes to get bored and start wandering the halls. He took another three
minutes to figure out where the kitchen was, and he only successfully made it because he
followed his nose.

“I thought I said to stay in bed.”

Ed’s brows rose in faux bewilderment. “Did you? I must’ve missed that part.”

Greeling scoffed but made no attempt to force Ed back to the room. “I don’t know what the
docs said, but I watched you take one hell of a beating. It’s a miracle you made it as far as
you did today, and you’re pushing your luck to go farther.”

Ed ignored the ache of exhaustion in his bones and sneered. “I’m fine. Most of their attacks
didn’t hurt, anyway.”

“How’s that?”

“Took a page out of your book and transmuted my skin into diamond. The only reason I’m
hurt at all—other than the damn bullet wound—is because it got awkward to hold up near the
end.” Ed peered around Greeling’s shoulder to see what smelled so good and missed the look
of dumbfounded amazement.

“You were made of diamond?”

“Not exactly. Humans are carbon-based lifeforms, and diamonds are pretty much nothing but
carbon. That doesn’t mean I can take all of the carbon in my body, use it somewhere else, and
expect to be okay. I was able to make a thin layer coating my entire body, thicker around the
organs and even thicker than that around the vitals. It’s probably why that bullet didn’t floor
me and leave me there.”

Ed didn’t expect much of a reaction to his makeshift armor considering it was Greeling who
gave him the idea in the first place, but the offhanded, “God, you’re hot,” still threw him for a
loop.

“What? Did you not think I’d be able to do it?”

Silence permeated the kitchen before Greeling responded with a half-evasive, “I use
graphene, not diamond.”

Ed’s brows rose again, mind racing with possibilities. “Damn. I didn’t even think about
graphene. Makes sense though. It’s way tougher than diamond, and that hexagonal shape has
got to be easier to hold.”
Ed hummed thoughtfully as he tried to imagine the exact transmutation circle necessary to
make graphene armor out of skin. He came up with twenty possible runes and six Latin
phrases by the time Greeling plated the food, put the plate on the table, and snapped his
fingers in front of Ed’s face to bring him back to reality.

“I’m beginning to think the only shocking thing is that you haven’t been sniped before this.
You’re practically cata-fucking-tonic when you start musing like that.”

Ed shrugged and started eating. He’d always been able to sense danger especially well, and
that didn’t change when he was lost in his research. Greeling ate at a much slower pace,
seeming content just to watch the catastrophe of Ed’s table manners in play.

Midway through his meal, long after Ed had finished, Greeling asked, “So, what do you
know about my family?”

“You’re all assholes. I thought this was going to be about me un-bonding.”

“It will be. What else do you know about them?”

Ed shot Greeling an irritated look which only succeeded in widening his darkly pleased grin.

“Brad’s a power whore that makes narcissists looks like they hate themselves. He has a wife
and a kid. Wife seems okay. Kid looks like he’s permanently pissed off, but I would be, too, if
I had to see Brad every night. Lust is a bitch who can’t focus on anything for more than a day
at a time, and she likes reactions and fall-outs more than whatever it is she’s actually doing.
Envy was . . . he was a jerk.” Ed glanced at Greeling to see a distinct lack of remorse at the
mention of his brother and moved on. “I’ve never met your other siblings, so I don’t have an
opinion on them.”

“Right. So you don’t know shit.”

Greeling sipped his wine. Ed shrugged and tipped his chair to balance on its back legs,
resting his bare feet on the table in the process.

“What can I say? I never found you guys all that interesting.”

“I don’t know whether that makes you stupid or brave, but we’ll have to start with the basics
either way. I have five siblings—”

“I thought there were seven of you. That’s the whole fucking reason I started naming you
after the seven deadly sins.” Ed frowned, unhappy about the wrench that had just been
thrown into his clever nicknaming agenda.

Greeling’s grin gained some genuine amusement. “That’s what Brad wants you to think.
There are only six of us. He forged the paperwork and backstory for a seventh in case he ever
needed to go on the run but keep connections with his more powerful lackeys.”

Ed stared at a spot above Greeling’s head as he tried to comprehend how the most famous
mug in Amestris could possibly pretend to be someone else. Greeling must have noticed
because he said, “There are structural alchemists for buildings, and there are structural
alchemists for people. Changing your looks isn’t difficult with the right connections.”

“Alright, so Brad has an escape plan. What else?”

“My sisters are Trisha and Solaris. My brothers are Envy, Brad, and Gordon. Tell me, how
old do you think I am?”

“Twenty-five.”

Greeling’s teeth parted in a silent, mocking laugh. “Older.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Older than that.”

“Twenty-eight is the highest I’ll go, and that’s pushing it.”

This time, Greeling really did laugh. “You were almost right. Try a hundred and ninety-
eight.”

Ed shot Greeling an incredulous look, but Greeling’s unwavering grin and general distaste for
lying said he should listen before discrediting. Unfortunately, “How the fuck are you a
hundred and ninety-eight?” was the closest Ed could get to being open-minded.

“What Core do you think I have?”

“How. The fuck. Are you a hundred and ninety-eight?”

“Answer my question first.”

Ed gritted his teeth. “Activation Steel.”

“I think my favorite part of this conversation is watching you be wrong.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you get off on me making mistakes. I got it. Now tie all the random
facts you just spouted together in a pretty bow that lets me un-bond, or I’m out.”

“I’ll enjoy the view of your ass as you go.”

Ed wouldn’t seriously leave before getting his sought-after information, and they both knew
it. That left him the option of huffing and slouching into his seat. The chair teetered on its
back legs. Greeling’s shit-eating grin widened.

“I’m one of the older Homunculi siblings, second only to Brad. He’s two hundred and two.
We grew up in a big city, and our parents were never there. Brad decided that he, as the
oldest, had to be in charge. That was his first power trip. Solely because he’s fucked up in the
head, he got obsessed with the feeling of having power over others—being powerful—and
started to seek ultimate power.
“With his quest for ultimate power came the quest for immortality because how ultimate can
power be if it can come to an end? When he turned twenty-six, he found the Gate, which led
him to immortality and, in turn, power. Unfortunately, everything comes at a cost.”

“Equivalent exchange. What the hell could he have exchanged for immortality and ultimate
power?”

“His soul. He traded his Water Core for a Shadow Core. The Shadow Core gave him ever-
lasting life, a distinct, powerful ability, and an immunity to sickness, natural or otherwise.”

“You’re saying he can’t be poisoned?”

“I’m saying you should shut up and listen to me.”

Ed frowned but stayed silent.

“While the ups of a Shadow Core are great, the downs are equally as bad. There are two
ideals in everyone’s life that they embody: one good, and one bad. Shadow Cores take that
bad ideal and make it the center of your being. Everything you do, everything you are,
everything you think all suddenly revolve around that insatiable ideal. And it hurts. It’s a
hunger that can never be sated and an ache that can only be momentarily placated, never
soothed.

“The fun part about the Shadow Core is that misery loves company. Brad made the original
deal with the Gate, so he had to give up his soul. In doing such, he gained the ability to
convert one other Core to a Shadow Core without them having to pay the ultimate price. All
the perks and all the pitfalls of a Shadow Core while keeping the soul intact. Muted, but
intact. The more fun part is that Brad didn’t know about the only-one-conversion limit when
he used it on Solaris.

“He tried to give Envy a Shadow Core directly afterwards only to find that it hurt it a way it
shouldn’t have and stopped. Luckily or unluckily one, Solaris gained the ability to convert
one other person, too. She converted Gordon, who converted Envy, who converted Trisha,
who converted me. You with me so far?”

Ed nodded, a million questions swimming through his head but none of them pertinent
enough to interrupt.

“Years go by. Brad practices politics, makes connections, fakes his death, and starts over
again. He does this a few times before deciding being king of the underworld isn’t enough.
He sets his eyes on the position of Führer. There’s only one little hang up. The woman he’s
fucking is pregnant.”

“Wait. How long ago was this?”

“Forty-four years, give or take a few months. Anywho, she gives birth, dies in an oh-so-
mysterious-accident, and Brad raises the kid. That’s where he went wrong. To understand
this, you first have to realize that your instincts are spot-on. Like scary good. Your little
nicknames for us are what we ended up embodying after our conversions. I’m Greed. Solaris
is Lust. Brad is Pride. That insane amount of Pride is what made him convert his entire
family—as anyone related to him, raised by him, had to be worthwhile allies—and it’s what
doubled and then tripled in size when focused in on that damnable kid. His progeny.

“Unfortunately, it looks like people without souls can’t make babies with souls, and that kid
is cold. Selim knew something was different about Brad, took notice of the way he never
seemed to get any older, and played to his daddy’s over-inflated ego until he finally got the
truth. As soon as he knew, he was incessant about getting a Shadow Core of his own. He
wanted what his father had and insisted that he could never follow in Brad’s stead without
that likeness.

“Brad begged me to convert his son. He offered me the world on a golden platter. I liked
seeing him on his knees more than I wanted extra things, so I said no. That’s when Brad
slipped up. He convinced himself the reason we can only convert one person was because it’s
too painful to convert another, and he prided himself on being able to work through the pain.
He converted Selim.

“Thing is, neither one of them thought past the wild power of Shadow Cores enough to care
about the consequences. Selim got stuck in a ten-year-old’s body for the rest of eternity, and
he’s plenty pissed off about it. Not ironically, either, seeing as he embodies Wrath.

“Brad found out the reason you can only convert one person is that there isn’t enough power
in a Shadow core to give to a second. He started aging again. That led him back to the Gate,
which laughed in his face and sent him on a wild goose chase for the philosopher’s stone—
the only thing currently capable of restoring him to his prime and ceasing the aging process.

“Brad starts researching and realizes if he wants to pull this off, he’s going to need more
resources. He fakes his death, hides the kid, and claws his way to Führer. He lets me use his
lackeys as I please in exchange for not screwing him over at every turn, and the rest of my
siblings are either bored or sheep, so they follow along without protest.

“Skip to twelve years ago. Brad’s got a public persona that shows off a little too much of his
solitude, so he gets a wife. She’s nothing special. Just a pretty face and unshakable
obedience. Two years after that, they ‘have a kid’ which they choose to keep out of the
limelight so it can have a normal childhood. Then two years ago, Brad re-introduces Selim to
the world. Not sure what he’s going to do in another two years, when people start noticing
how young Selim looks for his age, but hey. That’s not really my problem.”

Greeling paused long enough for Ed to realize this was his chance to ask questions.

“When you say immortal, what do you mean?”

“We don’t age and can’t fall sick or be poisoned. We don’t need to eat or drink to live. We
heal at exponential rates, and the only way to end our lives is to physically damage us beyond
repair. Cut off our heads. Disembowel us. Stab us through the heart.”

Ed looked away at the last one and missed Greeling’s responding grin.

“But you’ve each got powers to help you avoid things like that?”
“We do. I’m the ultimate shield. I can turn my body to graphene at will and nothing can
pierce me. Not without someone else using alchemy to turn me back, anyways.” Greeling’s
grin was a taunt. Ed sneered to hide the pang of guilt. “Envy could shape-shift. Solaris’s
fingers turn to lances. Gordon’s saliva is acid. Trisha is naturally better at basically
everything and is even stronger and faster than the rest of us. Don’t worry, she’s Sloth. Selim
can control shadows to do his bidding. He can’t use them to physically harm someone, but
they make for nasty spies. Fortunately, he can only control them when he’s focusing and can
only have them in one place at a time, so distract him and you’re safe.

“Brad has the ultimate eye. If he takes off his eye patch, he’ll be able to predict your
movements before you make them and act accordingly. Age has taken its toll on him, so
there’s a chance if you act fast enough, you can out-maneuver him. It doesn’t matter if he
knows what you’re going to do as long as he doesn’t have the time or room to counter it. That
being said, he’s fit. He’s fast and strong and the things he can do with a sword almost make
me want to keep my armor up at all points in time.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Have you seen my face? Brad isn’t a good enough reason to let these handsome features go
to waste.” Greeling leaned back to preen.

Ed huffed out a laugh and moved on. “Are there other side-effects of having a Shadow
Core?”

“A few. We can see Cores, for one. Or feel them, I guess. We know when someone has a
Core, what it is, and can even tell when something changes if we bother to pay attention.”

“That’s how you knew I have a Fire Core.”

“It is.”

“Is that also how you knew I was bonded?”

Greeling nodded boredly.

“Shit. That means Brad has known all along. And him visiting me in the hospital means he
already knows Mustang and I bonded, too. Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed. That’s why Brad sent Solaris into the academy. Having two potentially
mutinous, un-bonded Fire Core holders sharing an unmonitored classroom didn’t strike his
fancy. I enrolled because I wanted to see what made Brad wary enough to send in Solaris.”

“And Envy?”

“Envy had his eye on you for ages. You’re the essence of everything we aren’t, and that made
him, well, envious. Somewhere along the way, wanting what you represent turned into
wanting you, and I guess he was trying to scope you out before moving in. He even asked me
to convert you a few times. I said no, of course.”
Ed deadpanned, “Of course,” while doing his best to ignore the discomfort of having so many
people watching him without his knowledge.

“Shadow Cores also take away the ability to do alchemy and allow you to bond with nearly
anyone, regardless of Energy or Activation affiliation.”

“Nearly?”

“We can’t bond with Fire Cores.” Greeling paused for a minute to let that sink in, and when
Ed’s lips parted in soundless understanding, he continued. “That’s why Envy wanted me to
change you. He didn’t figure he had a chance on his own and thought you’d readily bond
with him if he became one of the only people who could possibly understand how you felt.”

“And that’s what you’re offering me now, too.” It wasn’t a question, though Greeling nodded.
“Shadow Cores and Fire Cores can’t be bonded, so converting my Core to a Shadow Core
would break the bond I have with Mustang. And then what? I bond with you because no one
else will understand my predicament?”

Greeling guffawed. “I’m not telling you to bond with me. I’m just letting you know how to
un-bond with him.”

“Why though? Why me? Why now?”

“Because I’m Greed. I want everything, all for myself. Shadow Cores basically make us
invincible, and I don’t want to share that.”

“Then why—”

“Because you’re already invincible. All giving you a Shadow Core means for me is that I’d
have someone interesting to whittle away eternity with.”

“I . . .”

But Ed didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t particularly interested in eternal life and would
normally scoff at the thought of ultimate power. But his loved ones weren’t generally in
perpetual danger. On one hand, he didn’t want the power for himself and he doubted un-
bonding with Mustang was really worth the extensive list of drawbacks. On the other hand, if
that power would help keep his family safe, did he have the right to refuse?

Would gaining that power even matter if he lost the ability to do alchemy, the crux of his
fighting style?

“I need time to think.”

“I figured you would. Only an idiot would accept a deal from the devil without first weighing
the pros and cons.” Greeling shrugged uncaringly, but there was an anticipation in his stance
that said he’d been waiting to do this for longer than he was letting on.

Instead of commenting on any of the mind-numbing information he’d just received, Ed used
a distinctly non-committal tone to say, “I should get back to Al soon. He’s probably pacing a
hole in the floor by now.”

Greeling nodded, the mirth dancing in his eyes a dead give-away to what he really thought of
Ed’s excuse.

“I’ll get the keys.”

(***Intertwined***)

The more Gerard was around Ed, the more he liked him. More than fucking, he wanted to
watch that brilliant mind work and enjoy the quick-witted, caustic replies Ed seemed to have
for everything. He wanted to be around Ed, listen to Ed, touch Ed, and any other action
involving Ed physically possible.

He was not, however, romantically interested in the man.

The blonde was still too innocent to see that sex and romance were oceans apart, which was
unfortunate, but Ed cared (or something like that) enough about Gerard to look past what he
assumed was romantic intent. That, in and of itself, was more than Gerard had originally
hoped for. Ed was kind and self-sacrificing to everyone. Gerard wanted to be special. So, he
let Ed think whatever he wanted to think regarding Gerard’s ever-ambiguous-intentions.

That, and he really liked pissing Mustang off.

The second of those reasons was what spurred Gerard to pause by the phone on the way to
grab his keys. He dialed a number, and it rang twice before: “Mustang household. Colonel
Mustang speaking.”

“Roy-boy. So nice to hear from you again.” Gerard leaned lazily against the wall and
examined his nails as he listened to the dangerous silence on the other end.

“Gerard.”

“I was just calling to let you know you can stop scouring the city. Ed is safe.”

“He’s with you?” Alarm bled through Mustang’s calm, jealous and accusatory.

Gerard’s grin turned giddy. “Oh, yeah. Has been ever since he ditched out at the hospital.”

“He came to you?”

“We found each other. And we’re about to find you, too. I’ll drop him off at the Hughes’s
house within the hour. You and anyone else who wants to check him over and make sure the
bites I took out of him only left love marks should be there.”

“If you hurt him—”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything he didn’t want done.”

Gerard hung up before Mustang could respond.

Ed glared when he returned, probably distrusting the self-satisfied look painting Gerard’s
face, but didn’t say anything. Gerard filled the silence by humming a tune he vaguely
remembered hearing in his youth. They left the house and got in Gerard’s car. Seeing as Ed
had no urge to speak, he kept humming until the Hughes’s household was in view. Mustang
and Alphonse stood impatiently on the porch. Gerard’s grin took a mischievous turn as he
parked parallel to the house.

Rather than immediately exiting the vehicle, Ed looked at Gerard with a soft expression.
Gratitude and care lived in golden eyes, and Gerard waited patiently for an awkward thanks.
What he actually got was, “You’re never getting these pants back, you know.”

Gerard couldn’t have stopped himself from laughing if he tried.

Apparently his laughter was unwelcome because Ed’s frown soured. “I’m fucking serious.
These are the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn, and I’m not giving the back.”

Gerard’s grin grew wide enough to ache. “Keep them. I have more. I’ll even go buy a pair in
your size, if you like them so much.”

“No thanks.” The response was quick, but the flash of want through amber eyes was quicker.
Ed opened the door and made to leave before Gerard could give a rebuttal.

“Hold up. There’s one more thing.”

Ed paused, feet already touching pavement, and turned back to Gerard. He parted his lips to
speak, and Gerard beat him to the punch by leaning forward and closing the space between
them. Ed’s lips were chapped, dry, and somehow perfect. Gerard kissed him harder. Excited
butterflies erupted in his chest, and the feeling was only magnified by Mustang’s intensely
jealous glare.

Gerard pulled back before Ed could react and shoved the blonde the rest of the way out of the
car. “Bye now.”

He used a drastic increase in velocity to slam Ed’s door shut and sped off to find something
else to amuse himself with for the next few hours.

He doubted Brad would wait any longer than that.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed cursed Greeling for kissing him—especially in front of Al and Mustang—but in truth, he

was thankful. That kiss gave him a reason to pause and steel himself against the seductive
pull of Mustang’s Core. It allowed him just enough time to remind himself to act normal, and
it gave him adequate reason to pause when he turned around. A reason that could not be
traced back to the way his heart stuttered into his throat at the sight of Mustang.

Had the man gotten more attractive again?

Ed’s Core begged him to run into Mustang’s arms. He took the safer route of scratching the
back of his head and walking the fifteen meters to Al. “Sorry for running off like that. It was
pretty uncool of—”

Al cut Ed off with a hug. “It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. We didn’t
have the right to make the call on your bonding. I was just panicking and—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ed tightened his grip on Al as he felt his little brother’s body tremble. “I was
panicking. I’m glad you did what you did, and I’m sorry for what I said.” Ed paused and
made eye contact with Mustang over Al’s shoulder. “You made the right call.”

Mustang’s expression didn’t change, but tense shoulders relaxed.

Al’s hug tightened to an almost crushing extent, and Ed felt a few relieved tears wet his shirt.
Ed ran a flesh hand up and down Al’s back, cursing himself for ever turning his devil temper
on his angelic little brother.

When Al recovered himself enough to pull away, he was smiling. “Everyone’s waiting for us
inside.”

Before Ed could take a single step forward, Mustang asked, “Could I speak to you alone for a
minute?”

Everything about the question was stiff and political. Ed cringed internally as he realized he
wasn’t the only one desperately attempting to appear normal.

Al gave Ed a questioning look, to which Ed shifted his weight and nodded. “I’ll meet you
inside, okay?”

“Alright.”

Ed noticed a guilty tension in the way Al glanced at Mustang before going inside. He chose
not to comment. After a long, half-solemn pause, Mustang said, “Alphonse was right about
you being my Intended.”

And that was it.

Ed waited for more. When more never came, he scoffed. “And what am I now? Your arm-
candy? Fling of the week? A new pawn in your rise to power?”

“No. You’re none of those things. I wanted to bond with you, and—”

“And what? That’s supposed to make it all better? Now that you got what you wanted, our
happy life together can start its spiral toward you wanting multiple bed partners and me
wanting to kick your ass. Hurray.”

“Fullmetal, it’s not . . . I didn’t . . .” Mustang lifted frustrated eyes towards the sky as he ran a
hand through already tousled black locks. “Why do you always have to be so damn irritating?
I wanted to have a civil discussion without jumping to conclusions or tearing at each other’s
throats. Is that so hard?”

“With you it is.”

“Damn it, Edward. Can’t you just listen for once?”

“I was listening. You weren’t talking.”

“Well I’m talking now.” Mustang’s stare was harsh, and Ed relaxed into the familiarity of
their banter. “You were my Intended, yes, but I never wanted to bond with you like this. I
wanted it to be consensual, at minimum. Hell, I wanted you to ask me.” Mustang cursed and
turned to stare unseeingly at the road. “None of that matters though. What I wanted to say is
that if you don’t want this, then I don’t want it, either. Just say the word and we’ll go back to
the way we were before.”

“Before bonding?”

“Before Armstrong’s class. You go back to the dorms, our meetings become strictly business,
and we pretend this never happened. No one has to know.”

Ed stared incredulously at Mustang, who refused to look away from the road. His lips were
pulled into a hard line as he waited for Ed’s response, but Ed didn’t know what to say. Not
only had he not expected such a generous offer—knowing what Mustang had given up for
him and the high hopes the man had for their future together—he hadn’t expected Mustang to
look so grave. It was clear what the Colonel thought he would choose.

Ed’s lips parted as he realized what he was about to ask, and the fear of being vulnerable
made his breath hitch in his throat. “Do you feel it? This . . . connection?” When Mustang’s
only response was to look at him, Ed forced himself to clarify, “It hurts to be away from
you.”

Mustang’s impenetrable political façade broke down to show a look of pained longing that Ed
never imagined would be directed at him.

“Yes.”

Just like that, the conflicting part of their bond seemed to vanish. Ed held out his flesh hand
with an unsure frown on his face. “I’ll think about it.”

Mustang stared at Ed’s offered hand as though he wasn’t entirely sure Ed wouldn’t pull away
at the last second, and Ed waited patiently for the Colonel to concede.

Rather than taking Ed’s hand, Mustang murmured, “I know I don’t have a right to ask this,
but do you like Gerard?”
“Of course I like him. Despite what you think, he’s different from his psycho family.”
Mustang pinned Ed with a hard stare that said he was missing something, and Ed took a
shameful amount of time to catch on. “Oh! Shit, you mean romantically? No.”

“Then why did you let him kiss you?”

“Because I didn’t know he was going to do it.”

Mustang took a moment to look both exasperated and reassured while Ed wondered how
much longer he could keep his hand outstretched before it became awkward. Then the
Colonel reached for him. When their hands met, they both sighed at the intense relief of it.
Mustang’s fingers twined with Edward’s, and Ed found himself leaning further into the
Colonel’s side.

“Our relationship is fucked, isn’t it?”

Mustang’s response was a deep, sardonic chuckle that sent pleasant shivers up Ed’s spine.
The blonde hid a smile as he pulled away to head inside.

(***Intertwined***)

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I hate doctors.”

The doctor—the same woman who had checked him over after his days of interrogation—
sighed. “I’m not your biggest fan either, Lieutenant Colonel. And if you would just hold still,
this would already be over.”

Ed scrunched his brows at the title, having completely spaced on the fact that he had, in all
the chaos, accepted his promotion. “I don’t need to get checked though. I’m fine.”

“You broke out of the hospital and took off to god-knows-where. Your bandages are likely
ruined, and you no doubt need new medication.”

Ed scowled and lifted his shirt to show off pristine bandages. “Greeling already fixed them.
I’m fine.”

“Lieutenant Colonel—”

“Just Ed.”

“—you are one of the most reckless men I have ever met, and I’ve worked in war zones. I
highly doubt you’re going to get through these injuries without someone constantly checking
them and refitting your dressings. You may as well get used to me.”

“No thanks. I’ve got plenty of non-doctors who are willing to do that for me.”
Ed motioned to his chest with his bandaged hand to emphasize his point. She huffed as she
got close enough to examine him. After a minute, she reluctantly said, “These are actually
very well done.”

“Exactly. And you know Maes knows his way around a first-aid kit. And Mustang has plenty
of experience dealing with burn wounds. So leave me alone.”

The doctor tossed an exasperated, pleading look at Maes, who smiled and confirmed that she
could leave.

“So where’s—” High pitched giggles cut Ed off, and despite everything life had thrown at
him the past few days, he smiled. Elicia ran into the room with Gracia on her heels. Ed
opened his arms wide in preparation for a hug. “Hey, El.”

Both the giggling and running came to an abrupt halt. Elicia stared at him for half of a second
before hiding behind Gracia. Ed tried hard not to let the pain he felt show through.

“Go away!”

“El, what are you—”

“I said go away! I don’t want you here!”

Ed’s smile wavered as anxiety bunched up in his chest. He looked to Maes and Gracia for
some clue as to what was going on, but they could only offer him consoling glances.

Slowly, he forced himself to ask, “Why don’t you want me here?”

“Because you’re scary. Go away!”

Gracia chided, “Elicia,” but Elicia only shook her head, refusing to so much as look at
Edward.

“He’s the one who told me to trust people ‘cause of what I see and hear and feel, and I saw
him do bad things. Scary things.” Beautiful, watery eyes looked straight at Ed as Elicia drove
her opinion home with a fearful, “You’re a killer!”

Ed barely heard Maes’s and Gracia’s berating responses over the blood rushing through his
ears. What he did hear was, “No! No, it’s not fair! He’s bad, and I don’t want anything to do
with him!”

Elicia yanked her necklace off over her head and held it out to Ed, who stared unseeingly
back.

He had to swallow three times before he could finally make his voice say, “You’re right. I did
do some pretty scary things, didn’t I?”

She peeked warily at Ed and nodded.

“I’m sorry, El. You should never have had to see something like that.”
“No. No, you shouldn’t have done it.” Elicia sounded so much older than five as she took the
black-and-white morals her parents had instilled in her and applied them to what she’d seen.
“The ugly dogs were bad, but killing is wrong. It’s always wrong.”

“That’s uh . . . Yeah. It is always wrong.” Ed nodded as his throat constricted. “I’m glad
you’re making decisions for yourself. Sticking by your beliefs.”

Elicia seemed unsure of what to say to that, so she just thrust the necklace towards Ed again.

Ed shook his head. “You still trust Uncle Roy, right?”

Elicia looked hesitant to continue speaking to Ed but eventually nodded. Ed forced himself to
grin as though his throat wasn’t burning with unshed tears.

He wanted to hurl.

“Good. Then you keep that necklace, and Uncle Roy will take my necklace. That way, if
you’re ever in trouble, you still know what to do. Only now, it’ll be . . . it’ll be Uncle Roy
coming to help you instead. Is that okay?”

Ed kept his eyes on Elicia to avoid the sad, pitying eyes pinning him from all sides. She
seemed unsure about what he was saying—as though she couldn’t trust that it would really be
Mustang coming to her rescue instead of Ed—but nodded and hugged the necklace to her
chest anyways.

Ed’s own necklace reacted to the motion with a comforting warmth. He pulled the necklace
over his head, draining the warmth as he went, and held it off to the side. The rush of
contentment through his Core said Mustang was the one to take it.

“Momma, I wanna go back upstairs.”

Gracia mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” to which Ed blandly nodded.

As soon as their footsteps faded, Maes stepped forward. “She didn’t mean that. She’s just
scared is all. She’ll come around soon.”

Ed sniffed. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t regret what I did. Hell, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Ed paused, knowing the way he was staring at his hands wasn’t at all convincing. “I’d do
anything for you guys. Not just Al or Winry or Granny.”

Winry, who’d curled quietly into Al’s side up to that point, heaved a heavy sob. Ed’s attention
shot to his little family, and Ed noticed not for the first time that Granny Pinako was absent.

“Where is Granny?” No one responded, and the panicked nausea returned full-force. “Where
is she? Was she hurt or—”

“She left the room before Bradley’s speech.” It was Mustang who stepped forward, and Ed
clung to the way the Colonel managed not to soak his gaze in pity. “She said that she didn’t
want to see you bare your neck to Bradley, and she left. She never made it out of the
bathroom.” Ed’s breath hitched as his blood ran cold. “It wasn’t that the three chimeras
weren’t released at the same time. It’s that two of them were side-tracked by Pinako. That’s
likely what gave you the time to shield us and gather yourself.”

This time, Ed really did throw up. It churned in his stomach and splashed up his throat, barely
giving him enough time to grab a wastebasket before he upchucked all the food he’d eaten at
Greeling’s.

A soft hand rubbing his back was accompanied by a sorrowful, “Oh, Ed.”

Ed looked up to see Winry’s tear-streaked face. A whole new kind of nausea welled within
him.

“Winry.” Oh god. What had he done? Pinako was like family to him and Al, but she was
actual family to Winry. Her only family. And Ed had taken that away. “I’m sorry. I’m so
sorry. I shouldn’t have let the Führer drag her here. I—I should have protected her better—”

“Ed, you idiot!” Tears streamed freely down Winry’s face as she knocked him harshly over
the head. “You almost died protecting us! If those few extra minutes are what got you out
alive . . . If Gran . . . If she had to go, she would have wanted it to be protecting you.” Winry
sobbed as she pulled him into a stiflingly tight hug while Ed struggled to comprehend her
reaction. “She loved you, dummy.”

Ed hugged her back just as tightly. Al joined them a moment later. Somewhere in the back of
his mind, he knew the others were vacating the room to allow them space to grieve. All he
could really focus on was the guilt.

Guilt over bringing Granny Pinako to her dying place.

Guilt over taking away Winry’s only family.

Guilt over not protecting her.

Guilt over his lack of tears.

He wanted to cry. He felt like crying. They just didn’t come. Ed buried his face in the soft
hair bunched up at Winry’s neck to hide his inability to cry from the rest of his family. They
would think he was a monster.

He thought he was a monster.

Granny Pinako.

What would she think?

He could hear Al and Winry comforting him, but they may as well have been speaking
underwater for all he understood. As much as he needed to be there for them, he was lost to
the haze of guilt and the need to grow stronger still. Stronger than anyone or anything else.

To be the ultimate power.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 23
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Maes didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Elicia didn’t understand why everyone was
so upset with how she’d treated Ed. On one hand, Maes was proud that he’d been able to
shelter her so well from the ways of the world, especially in such dark times. On the other
hand, she was ignorant of what was going on around her, and ignorance rarely led to anything
other than pointless bigotry.

It was self-preservation that kept him from knocking on her door after leaving the tragically
smaller Elric family to grieve. He stood outside her door. His hand was poised to knock. He
just didn’t do it. There was no promise that entering her room would fix her new view of Ed.
There was, however, a promise that it would forever skew her view of Maes.

Could he handle it if she didn’t call him Daddy anymore?

He lowered his hand, turned to leave, remembered the look of utter heartbreak of Ed’s face,
and turned back. That was the position Alphonse found him in god-only-knew how long later.
Maes welcomed the distraction with a warm smile that Alphonse half-heartedly returned.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Alphonse glanced nervously at the pink door and scratched the back of
his head. “I have a pretty large request to make.”

Maes’s eyebrows rose in genuine interest. “Shoot.”

“I was wondering if Winry and I could stay here until this Führer thing blows over. We can
transfer to Central’s academy pretty easily, and if it extends past the end of the school year,
finding a place of our own won’t be difficult.”

“You don’t want to stay with Ed?”

“I do. He just thinks it would be safer for us here and . . . He’s in a bad place, Maes. If he gets
too scared that something will happen to us, he’s going to end up doing something stupid in
the name of protection. Right now, the most important thing for him is reassurance.”

“Even if that means you’re separated?”

“I’ll still see him every day, and when I’m not there to keep an eye on him, Mustang will be.”
Alphonse sighed, looking more frazzled than ever, and Maes noted a tired resentment at the
mention of Roy. “No one can stop Edward from doing what he wants to do. We can show him
there are other options though. He’s going to try and protect us no matter what, so it’s up to
us to help him do it in the least reckless way possible. That means staying close enough for
him to know we’re safe and far enough not to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I doubt you intend to stay that far.”
“Toeing the line of safety is still considered safety.” Alphonse’s tone was sure, but his posture
slouched and fidgeted with worry.

Maes’s smile softened into something more authentic as he laid a comforting hand on
Alphonse’s shoulder. “Of course you can stay. You’re family. And if this does drag on past
the end of the school year, consider the invitation indefinite. We love having you here.”

Alphonse’s responding smile was a burdened wisp of a thing. Then he was gone.

Maes turned back to Elicia’s door, which was just as daunting as before Alphonse had shown
up. As her father, he had the right to knock. As her father, he had the right to barge in. As her
father, he had the right to protect her. As her father, he had the right to choose what
“protection” entailed.

As her daddy, he had the right to fear her rejection should their definitions not align.

Eventually, he found himself saying, “Elicia, sweetie? May I come in?”

“I don’t want to take pictures right now, Daddy!”

Maes grimaced at the frustration-coated sorrow in her tone before cracking the door open
anyhow. “I’m not here to take pictures. I just want to talk.”

Silence.

“Please?”

A muffled, “Okay,” let him open the door farther.

He glanced in to see her lying face-down on her bed and, after a deep breath, entered. The
soft light of her lamp helped him maneuver through the room without stepping on any of her
toys. He moved plush animals to the side to make room on her bed. Once seated, he began to
gently play with her hair.

“Momma said I was wrong to say that stuff to Edward.”

“Do you think you were wrong?”

“No.”

The word was sharp enough to make Maes cringe. “You really think Ed is a bad guy?”

Elicia hesitated. She shyly lifted her head from her pillow to look at her father. “I think he’s
scary. And he isn’t good, even if he’s not bad. Good people don’t kill. Not ever.”

“Sometimes they don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. You and Momma said so.”

Maes took deep breaths as he admired the strong will and unshakable belief in right and
wrong that only children could truly possess. He also wished, for once, that she had a normal
five-year-old’s level of intelligence rather than that of someone closer to eight or ten.
“Alright. There’s always a choice. That doesn’t mean the choice is easy or that he was happy
to make it.” Maes waited for Elicia to respond, but she only shoved her face back into her
pillow. He swallowed the fear coagulating in his throat and said, “If Ed hadn’t killed those
chimeras—the mean dogs—they would’ve killed us.”

Her head shot back up.

“Ed’s choice was to kill or watch everyone he loved be killed. He chose to kill. I’m not
saying that makes it right or even okay. Just that he had a hard choice to make, and I can’t
fault him for keeping you and your mom safe. Sometimes . . . sometimes you do things you
don’t like to avoid things you’d like even less.”

The next question, surprisingly, had nothing to do with Ed. “Has Uncle Roy ever killed
anybody?”

“He has.”

“Have . . . have you ever killed anybody?”

Maes removed his hand from her hair to hide the way it trembled. “I have.”

Elicia let loose a strangled cry and threw herself back onto her pillow, unwilling to look at
Maes any longer. “You’re lying!”

The words were high and desperate, and Maes bit down on the urge to take the offered out.
“No, sweetie. I’m not. I was a soldier during the Ishval Civil War, and I did a lot of things
I’m not proud of. Things I hope you never have to know about or experience. That includes
killing.”

“But you regret it, right? You’re sorry.”

Maes took a deep breath. He’d known it would come to this the moment he heard why she’d
been so insistent on not visiting Ed in the hospital. He just had to see it through. Be brave. Be
honest.

“I hate myself for the things I did, but I don’t regret them. They were bad, but they got me
where I am today. They let me live long enough to meet your mom and to have you, and how
can I ever regret anything that gets me more time with you?”

“No. It’s not true. It’s—”

“It is.”

“It’s not! My daddy is kind and good and always does the right thing. You’re just lying so I’ll
be nice to Edward again.”

“Elicia—”
“Go away!” Her little hands curled so tightly that her knuckles turned white while her body
shook with unrestrained sadness.

“I love you, Ellie.”

“I said go away!”

If she looked up again, it wasn’t until after he left.

(***Intertwined***)

Edward was in the library for hours before Roy decided to check on him. He knew Edward
wasn’t asleep, despite it being half past two in the morning. He knew Edward hadn’t run
away, as his Core burned pleasantly at their nearness. He also knew from the lack of rustling
papers that Edward wasn’t funneling his frustrations into research, and that gave him the need
to check in.

He knocked softly on Edward’s door. When Edward didn’t respond, he knocked again.
Numerous knocks and similar silences later had Roy cracking the door open. If he was wrong
and Edward had managed to fall asleep, he would leave.

He wasn’t wrong.

Edward, who’d been staring blankly at a wall of books, tossed Roy a snarl with no real
emotion behind it. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“I’ve been knocking for the better part of ten minutes.”

Edward didn’t have a response to that, choosing instead to turn his gaze back to the books.

“Fullmetal, you . . . Would you like to join me for a drink? Coffee or bourbon or hot
chocolate? Maybe just some water.” The inflection dropped off at the end as Roy accepted
Edward didn’t want any of that. It was best just to cut to the chase. “Are you sure you don’t
want Alphonse and Winry here with you?”

Edward shrugged. “There’s nowhere for them to sleep. It’s not like they’d let me give them
my bed with these wounds.”

“Then I’ll give them my bed.”

Amber eyes retrained on the Colonel. “Why would you do that?”

There were a million and a half real reasons why, but they felt hollow. Like all saying them
aloud would do was reinforce the awkwardly polite gap slowly blooming between the Flame
and Fullmetal Alchemists.
“I told you already, Fullmetal. I’m really, really into blondes.”

Edward’s lips twitched down in a forced frown, then cracked in an unwilling smile.
Eventually Fullmetal said, “You’re an idiot,” but there was no bite to it.

“Most people think I’m smart.”

“Most people haven’t seen you try to tell the difference between transformation, mutation,
and transmutation arrays.”

Roy’s lips tilted in a sarcastic smile. “You’re right. Having trouble with a differentiation that
most experts find difficult, at best, is something I get judged for daily.”

“I judge you for it daily.”

“Of course you do.”

Roy waited for a response without rush, hoping this ghost of their usual banter could help fix
what bonding had broken.

“There are other reasons you’re an idiot, you know.”

“Do tell.”

“You chose a career field where everyone you work with wants to see you fail, for one. Then
you chose to live with someone who hates you. Then you waste your bonding without
thinking about the fact that you can’t just undo it. Because you may want it today, but what
about a year from now? What happens when you get to know me and realize I’m an asshole?
Or even just get bored. Only idiots don’t think those kinds of things through.” Edward’s
disapproving sneer was as much a sham as his apparent insults. “Or maybe you’re a
masochist.”

Roy chuckled at the fact that Edward felt the need to insult him into seeing reason and took a
single step into the library. “You think I don’t already know you’re an asshole? Fullmetal,
you may be kind-hearted and overly self-sacrificing, but you aren’t nice. You don’t do things
for the sake of making strangers smile and you would just as soon break a person’s jaw as
you would buy them dinner. As for getting bored, I don’t find it a likely possibility.”

Fullmetal scoffed half-heartedly, already prepared to tune Roy out.

Roy pushed on. “You think I’m unaware how I look to you? I’ll be the first to admit I’ve got
commitment issues. I sleep around, and anyone I agree to meet up with more than twice
knows in no uncertain terms that the relationship is strictly physical. Before you, I didn’t
have girlfriends or boyfriends. I had sex friends. Do you know why?”

Fullmetal did his best to look disinterested, but curiosity had always been his weak point. It
only took a few seconds for amber eyes to reluctantly raise in a silent request to keep going.

“The first reason is because I like sex. Plain and simple. The second reason is because I can’t
afford to keep someone who can’t defend themselves by my side. I need someone who can
stand strong against my enemies so I’m not constantly checking over both our shoulders.
That’s you. I’m not saying that you’re my one-and-only chance at a real relationship. I’m not
trying to absolve myself of my past sexual encounters by claiming that every time I slept with
someone else, I did while thinking of you. I didn’t.

“But the reason I’ve stopped going on dates recently is because the more I get to know you,
the less interesting everyone else becomes. When I told Chrissy that her dress made her eyes
look more exquisite than usual, she blushed and thanked me. All I could think about was how
you would’ve called me out on the bullshit line and known that I only said it to assure we’d
have sex later.

“When a tabloid printed a picture of me and Terrance on a date, he gushed over how famous I
am and how well the picture turned out. I could only think about how you wouldn’t have
bothered reading the thing in the first place. Then Janet told me she loved that I wore my
uniform on our first date, and I heard your voice in the back of my head telling me to get a
life outside of work.

“I kept comparing my dates to you, and it made them dull. None of them could tell when they
were being purposefully charmed. None of them could keep up, let alone be trusted, with any
part of my work life. None of them would call me out if my ego got out of hand or question
my decisions if they disagreed.

“The more I get to know you, the more I realize that everyone who isn’t you, isn’t worth it.
While they didn’t become unattractive, the idea of taking the time to wine and dine them
before sex became unappealing. Actually being with them and talking to them seemed like a
waste because if I was going to be spending my down time with someone, I wanted it to be
you.

“That isn’t to say I don’t think you’re a pain in the ass. I can’t promise that we’ll spend the
rest of our days happily together because I doubt we’ll make it twenty-four hours without
getting into at least one argument. There are times when I think that without you in my life, I
may never have a headache again. You’re a messy, stubborn, violent, loud, socially inept
asshole who makes me want to bang my head against a wall until I pass out.”

Roy held Edward’s gaze throughout the entirety of his embarrassingly long monologue, and it
was only when he saw Edward prepared to fight back against his deceptively short list of
complaints that he continued, “While it may turn out that I don’t want to spend the rest of my
life with you, I do know what I’m getting into when I say I’d certainly like to try.”

The audible click of Edward closing his mouth, teeth on teeth, made Roy feel unreasonably
pleased. Then Fullmetal asked, “Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”
and the pleased feeling gave way to exasperation.

“How in the world could that have made things more difficult for you?”

“Because you’re a bastard. I want to be near you because of our bond. It hurts to be away
from you because of our bond. You’re insanely attractive because of our bond. Then you go
spouting shit like that, and I can’t tell whether I want to take you up on that drink because
you’re not the absolute worst kind of bastard or because of our bond. It’s infuriating.”
Fullmetal had the audacity to cross his arms and glare at Roy, as though him being nice was
an offense.

Roy couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Oh, god. You are astounding, Fullmetal. Instead of
agonizing over why it is you can enjoy my company right now, try just enjoying it. Would
that really be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Roy stared Edward down. When no response came, he clarified, “It’s not a rhetorical
question.”

“So?”

“So if you’re going to deny me my only chance at being with my bondmate, I deserve to
know why.”

It was a low blow, but it worked. Edward was as ridiculously easy to guilt trip as ever.

“Because I’m fascinating now, but that’ll fade. You’ll find out things about me you don’t like,
and you’ll get tired of trying to cart my burdens around with your own. One day I’ll get too
pissed off, and you’ll get tired of waiting for me to cool down. Then you’ll leave, and it’ll be
me who’s stuck with this damnable bond forever reminding me of how I fucked up.

“Wanting to touch and be near each other is going to fade within two weeks, and when it
does, your Core will stabilize. Mine won’t. Sure, the intensity will fade, but that urge to lean
against you is always going to be there, even if you aren’t. It’s going to be easier to live with
the ache if I don’t have the feeling of relief to compare it to.” Edward shrugged as though this
was another theory that didn’t personally affect him.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to think of the best way to counter Edward’s
self-loathing. “You’re saying that we can’t see where this could go because it will hurt if it
ends?”

“When it ends.”

“Why are you so sure about that? What could I possibly have done to make you think I’m
incapable of loving you?”

Edward’s frown looked more like a flinch, making Roy wonder if he had taken it a step too
far. He knew that whatever Edward’s problem was, it had nothing to do with Roy and
everything to do with his negative view of himself.

“It’s not what you’ve done. It’s what I’ve done.” Edward’s voice lowered to a bitter sound
just short of a whisper. “Just look what happened to Granny.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that. You saved dozens of lives, and if Pinako hadn’t gone to
the restroom, you would’ve saved her, too.”
That didn’t seem to be what Edward wanted to hear as he rolled his eyes and donned a self-
deprecating grin. Roy didn’t say anything else, instead choosing to see where this self-
destructive spiral would go. Edward didn’t need to be comforted. He needed to grieve. That
meant letting the Lieutenant Colonel break down.

After at least forty minutes of silence, Roy’s patience bore fruit.

Edward, in the quietest voice Roy had ever heard him use, asked, “How can it not be my
fault?”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have. I should have.”

“How?”

“Because this is what always happens.” Edward took painfully slow, deep breaths while the
rest of the air thickened with silence. His voice trembled as he admitted, “I used to mess with
Core alchemy a lot. I thought the things I saw were premonitions. That they were warnings of
the fucked-up shit to come. Things I could prevent. But they weren’t.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Granny die, and she’s not the only one. Maes has gotten
shot and been tortured. Gracia and Elicia have been used as bargaining chips. I’ve lost Al too
many times to count and done stupid, reckless things to bring him back. Most of the time,
whatever I brought back was less than what I lost. I’ve cried, I’ve killed, I’ve failed, and I
should fucking learn from it already.

“I have the knowledge. I have the thick, choking fear that can only ever come post-disaster. I
just can’t figure out how to use it. And now I’m losing people, just like every other life I’ve
lived. First Granny Pinako. Now . . .? Who’s next? What if I can’t stop it?”

Fullmetal let out a frustrated, sorrowful groan as he regretted everything he had and hadn’t
done. He ground the heels of flesh and metal palms against his eyelids as he tried to stop
whatever it was he was feeling, and Roy ached to reach out. Roy’s Core begged him to
comfort his other half. It screamed for him to fix or destroy anything that could possibly
bring Edward harm.

But all he could do was watch, completely restrained by Edward’s distaste for everything he
was.

“I’ve seen you die, too. I’ve seen you lose an eye and end up with an eye-patch just like
Brad’s. I’ve seen you get shot. I’ve seen you burn to death. I’ve seen”—Edward’s voice
hitched with a little whine—“seen me stab you. I was so glad you were a bastard because that
meant I wouldn’t have to care when you die this time around.”

Roy opened his mouth but found no words of comfort. Edward apparently spent his waking
hours terrified that history would repeat itself and that he would lose everyone and everything
he loved. Again. Again and again and again, if Roy understood correctly.
“I need to be stronger. Stronger than I am now and stronger than I’ve ever been before. If I
want to protect them this-go-round, I don’t just need power. I need to be the ultimate power.”

And finally, Roy knew just what to say.

“Fullmetal, you already are the ultimate power.” Edward shot Roy a hateful, disgusted look
that spoke volumes for what he thought of that response, but Roy wasn’t deterred. “I’m
serious. You may not be the strongest, fastest, most brilliant man in the entire world, but you
don’t need to be. More than being able to take on every obstacle alone, you have the ability to
turn enemies into allies. Maes, Elicia, and Gracia could’ve died, but Gerard stepped in and
saved them. For you. Falman’s first instinct was to stay put and wait for help, but he ran back
into the fight. For you. Don’t you see, Edward? You can’t do everything on your own, but
you don’t have to. Because your strength lies in collecting friends and family. You have an
army of people ready to die for you if you ask them to—”

“I wouldn’t—”

“And that’s exactly why they’re ready. You’re a light in the darkness, Fullmetal. People see
you, and it gives them hope. Use that. Use their faith in you to warn them against what
Bradley is doing. You have eyes everywhere ready to report in. You have hands all across the
country ready to help. Accept them. What happened to Pinako isn’t your fault because
whatever happened in those visions isn’t what’s happening now. All you’ve got is the
knowledge that people die, and we all have that. She knew that. She was ready for it.”

“You can’t know that.”

“She said it herself, remember?” Roy didn’t have the memory necessary to quote it word for
word, but that didn’t matter because Edward did. And he knew Roy was right. “She wasn’t
afraid of death.”

Edward met Roy’s eyes, and the distinct lack of tears made the knife in Roy’s Core twist
further.

“She should’ve been.” The admission was weak. Then, just as weakly, he said, “But thanks.”

Roy waited for something more. Edward stayed silent. Roy asked, “What else?”

“What?”

“What other reasons do you have for not giving me a chance?”

Aggravation twisted Edward’s lips. “Weren’t you listening? I’m—”

“You’ve got blood on your hands. So do I. You’ll likely get more blood on your hands. So
will I. You blame yourself for the lives you failed to save. So do I.” Roy paused, unused to
baring himself, and said, “You have nightmares that leave you sleepless for days, and there
are times where you run yourself ragged for fear of a stronger enemy popping up out of the
woodwork and taking everything you love. I know because it’s the same for me. If I condemn
you, I condemn myself along with you.”
They stared at each other for a long while after that. When Roy felt that Edward’s fears,
insecurities, and self-loathing were properly dampened, he took a risk. “Until my Core
stabilizes, it’s only going to get harder for us to be apart. There are studies that show the
amount of time spent in physical contact are positively correlated with the amount of time
you can conversely separate from your new bondmate without negative effects.”

It was an altogether change in topic, and Edward’s expression took an irritated, tired, relieved
turn. “So?”

“So, would you like to stay together tonight? For the sake of separating tomorrow.”

It was a bullshit excuse and they both knew it, but if Edward did want a break from his
suffering, this would allow him to take it without sacrificing his pride. After a drawn-out
silence where Fullmetal weighed facing his demons against physical contact with Roy, the
blonde’s frown deepened.

“You tell anyone we shared a bed and I’ll rearrange the molecular structure of your uniforms
so they’re always wrinkled.”

Roy frowned, trying to ascertain whether or not Fullmetal could actually do that. “Noted.”

He turned to leave only for Edward’s voice to ring out, gruff bordering on anxious. “Where
are you going?”

Roy canted his head to give Edward a politely condescending look, highlighting the fact that
nothing about their relationship had changed. “Your bed’s a twin. Mine’s a king. Do the
math.”

Roy walked out of the library, and Edward followed. He led the way to his room like his
heart wasn’t pounding against his ribs and like butterflies hadn’t performed a hostile takeover
of his stomach. He felt like an addict about to get his fix—that sweet, beautiful high that
rushed through him every time they touched—and made feeble, internal attempts to convince
himself that he was doing this solely because Edward needed not to be alone.

When they reached his room, Roy said, “I don’t generally sleep with much on. I can wear
pajamas if that makes you more comfortable.” But of course the offer was moot as Edward
was already stripping to his boxers.

“Don’t bother. With body heat like ours, anything more than a sheet would be a nightmare.”

His tone was confident. The way he looked anywhere but at Roy shouted embarrassment.
The way his hand lingered a moment too long over the junction of his automail leg and flesh
thigh showed his shame. Roy turned away as though the only thing he had caught was the
confidence and began undressing.

He knew this was wrong and that physical contact was something they should be avoiding,
lest their already tenuous relationship get dragged further through the mud. That didn’t stop
the excitement sparking in his blood at the thought of so much skin-on-skin contact.
Edward flopped onto the bed first, crudely kicking Roy’s favorite duvet to the floor before
crawling underneath the sheets. Roy took half a second to cringe at the mess Edward was
already making of his immaculate bedroom before joining the blonde in bed. Body on the
mattress. Arms out. Edward’s head on his chest and their stomachs aligned.

When Edward had leaned against him earlier, it’d been a breath of fresh air. This
was infinitely better. It was like he had never breathed before this moment, and his lungs had
finally ceased to burn. Like all of the stress he’d been carrying was weightless, and all of the
wounds his body could never fully heal were soothed. It was a high so consuming it made
Roy want to cry, and it took him a full minute to realize that Fullmetal was doing just that.

The tears were slow and quiet, and if not for the fact that they were falling onto Roy’s chest,
he wouldn’t have known they were there at all. Roy held Edward closer without speaking,
and when the blonde finally said, “She’s really dead, isn’t she?” he only nodded.

Flesh and metal arms curled around Roy while a flesh leg found its way between Roy’s own,
and they stayed like that until Edward’s bereavement gave way to sleep. Roy’s consciousness
followed soon after.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed woke up in a pleasant haze. He curled towards the seductive warmth in front of him.
Being bonded with Mustang wasn’t ideal or even wanted, but it made him feel. He felt safe
for the first time since his mom had died. He felt connected to Mustang in a way that not
even Al could compare to. And when they’d touched last night, it was as though the walls Ed
had been building around himself for the majority of his life turned to dust. All of his need to
protect himself by himself dissipated, leaving Ed vulnerable to the overwhelming feeling of
loss.

It was wonderful.

Ed couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried without looking over his shoulder or hating
himself for being weak. He couldn’t remember what it was like to let himself mourn freely.
He hadn’t felt like he could let someone else safely take the reins while he broke down since
before his father left. Last night changed all of that. It was freeing.

Last night, however, was last night. Now, he found himself being held firmly against
Mustang’s ridiculously well-toned body with his nose tucked in the crook of the Colonel’s
neck. Mustang’s face was pressed to the top of Ed’s scalp, and Ed felt every breath the man
took. It was the most intimate position he had ever been in, and to make matters worse, it
was morning.

That meant morning wood.

He knew it was a biological reaction—that testosterone levels reached their peak after the
REM cycle, which in turn caused an erection—so he wasn’t ashamed. He was, however,
wary of how hard his should-be-waning erection would get if he stayed pressed against the
porn star disguised as a Colonel.

It didn’t help that the still-sleeping bastard was hard, too. He had technically seen the man
naked before, but it was a quick, panicked glance. Lying there, feeling it pressed against him
was an entirely different subject.

And damn. What an impressive subject.

Ed didn’t know if it was their bond or general sexual attraction or what, but feeling
Mustang’s dick sandwiched between them had a flurry of images coming to life in his head,
and none of them were decent. Ed attempted to slowly detach himself only to have Mustang’s
grip turn to steel and pull him even closer. The movement made him growl. The friction
made him gasp. That left him with an angrily pleasured groan, which elicited a tired hum
from his captor.

“Let me go, Mustang. We’ve got to get to class.”

Mustang snuggled further into Ed’s hair with a breathy, “It’s Sunday.”

“Then work. You’ve got political bullshit to attend to and Al’s probably worried sick by now
—”

“He’s fine. We all figured you’d be passed out until tomorrow considering everything that’s
happened. I told him you’d call when you woke up.” Mustang’s voice was rough with sleep,
and Ed hated that he liked it. “So go back to sleep.”

“Too late now, bastard. I’m up. Now let me go so I can get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

Was he really hungry? No. Did it make Mustang sigh into his hair and loosen his grip? Yes.

Ed scrambled off the bed, ignoring the way his Core immediately cringed at the lack of
contact. Obsidian eyes looked up at Ed through thick black lashes and the ends of sleep-
tousled hair, and Ed turned in hopes that Mustang would miss his body’s wanton reaction.

He left the room without another word.

By the time he reached the kitchen he was clothed, his prick was soft, and he really was
hungry. Mustang, who had a stack of pancakes waiting for him, was in uniform and buttoning
his pea coat.

“Got somewhere to be?”

“Press conference. I still haven’t given my statement about the night of your promotion. It
doesn’t start for another few hours, but arriving early will give the impression of non-
urgency.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

“That you were shot, protected us in your wounded state, and pulled through after surgeons
removed the bullet. All available resources are now being pooled toward the chimera issue.”

“What about our bonding?”

Mustang shot Ed an unimpressed look as he alchemically ironed out non-existent creases in

his jacket. “Nothing. The less they know the better.”

“I think you should tell them.” Mustang’s brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what angle
Ed was playing at, and Ed saved him the trouble by saying, “Brad already knows we’re
bonded. He knows about your inheritance, too.”

“How could he—”

“Greeling told me. The whole family can see Core auras or some shit. He knew I was bonded
the second he saw me, and that means Brad knows, too. He expects us to hide it, so I figure
the best way to fuck up his plans is to come out with it from the get-go. Tell them my Core
was failing, and you had to bond with me to fix it.”

“And when they ask why it had to be me?”

“Tell the truth. My Core wouldn’t have accepted anyone else.”

“You sure you’re ready for them to know all that?”

“The only reason to hide my Core type was to avoid Activation Fire Core assholes trying to
bond with me. I’m already bonded, so what’s it matter?”

Mustang’s brow made a perfect arch above his eye as he silently asked when Edward became
an idiot. “We’re still military officials, Fullmetal. If they know we’ve bonded, we’ll have to
re-measure our Core strengths for their records. That’s fine for me, but I recall your
adamancy over your entry measurement being a one time only deal.”

“Yeah? Well times have changed.” Ed stuffed half a pancake into his mouth, wondering what
his younger self would’ve thought of him caving like this. “Before, I was trying to hide how
strong my Core was so that bastards like you and Brad would leave me alone. I knew it
wasn’t natural, and the Ishval Civil War did a damn good job of showing how the military
treats unnaturally strong kids.”

Ed tossed Mustang a pointed look, to which the Colonel immediately conceded.

“Understood. I’ll reveal our situation and try to warn the presses away from approaching
you.”

“I can handle—”

“For their sake. In the meantime, all I want you to do is eat, call your brother, and go back to
bed.” Mustang stared Ed down as though he could make Ed follow his orders by willpower
alone. He grabbed his keys and continued, “I won’t finish with the press until well after three,
and then I’ll be at the office. If you need me before then, feel free to contact Maes or anyone
in my unit.”
 Mustang nodded once, as though assuring himself that he had done all he could to keep Ed
safely tucked away indoors, then left. Ed waited exactly long enough to hear the car pull out
of the driveway before going to get his red cloak.

Like hell he was going to stay put.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 24
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed spent the morning in Central Academy’s library while Al and Winry sorted out their
transfer. Al worried about the negative effects Ed would experience from not being around
Mustang for too long, but Ed shrugged it off. The urge to snuggle into the Colonel’s side
hadn’t gone away, but it was no greater than when he’d only had a partial bond. He could not
only live with it, he could flat-out ignore it.

He was halfway through a book on Core types in an attempt to find even a vague mention of
Shadow Cores when Al and Winry returned.

“How’d it go?”

Al grinned and handed over his schedule. “I’m in. The only class I had any trouble with was
Advanced Construction of Transmutation Circles, and that’s more because of my relation to
you than the time I’ve missed. He seemed very upset over your lack of attendance. I think it
hurts his feelings.”

Ed snorted. “His ego is what it hurts. There’s nothing he’s teaching that I don’t already know,
and half his assignments are mistakes anyhow.”

“Yes, well I promised him I would attend every day and try and get you to do the same.”

Winry thrust her schedule in his face before Ed could properly mock the idea of attending
class.

“I got into all the classes I wanted, too. I’m in the bonding class with you guys, of course, but
there are so many more courses on mechanics here than there are in Resembool that it’s
crazy. I’ll need to buy materials to complete my coursework, but I’m sure you can help out
with that.” Winry grinned at Ed, or maybe at his wallet. Even then, he found her excitement
preferable to Al in Lecture Mode.

“Sure, Win. Whatever you need.”

Her smile faltered some, well-aware that the only reason he wasn’t complaining about her
money-spending was Granny. “It’ll be a lot.”

“I can handle it.” And only because he knew what she wanted to hear, “Besides, it’s not like
you wouldn’t buy the stuff behind my back if I said no.”

“Consider it payment for all the times I’m going to have to fix you in the future.”

“Do you make all your clients pay for things that haven’t happened yet?”

“Only the ones who are guaranteed to need it.”

“There’s no guarantee—”

“There totally is.”

Ed glared at Winry until Al said, “She’s probably right about this one, Brother.”

Ed retrained his glare on the new offender. “Gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence. It means
a lot.”

Ed’s tone was disparaging. His companions were unfazed. Winry crossed her arms smugly.
“Hey, it’s not our fault you can’t go a few months without breaking at least one of your
limbs.”

“I’ve lasted months before.”

“Oh yeah? When?” Winry raised her brows as Ed tried to think of an instance where a
substantial amount of time had passed without him needing a fix of some sort. Minutes
passed in silence before she shouted, “Ha! You can’t!”

Ed told her to shut up. The passing librarian—not Sheska—also told them to be quiet. They
fell into a fit of laughter as soon as she was out of sight.

Al, always the peacekeeper, changed the subject with an innocent, “So what have you been
working on?”

“Core research.”

“Trying to see if there’s anything on un-bonding Fire Cores?” When Ed shrugged, both
unwilling to lie to his brother and uncomfortable with giving away Greeling’s secrets, Al
took his silence as a yes. He peered over Ed’s shoulder. “Would you like any help?”

“Go for it.” Ed waved a noncommittal hand, just in case Al could find something he missed.

“Well, while you two pour over dusty tomes, I’m going to get supplies.”

Winry was already reaching for Ed’s wallet when he said, “We can come with you.” He felt
the wrench before he saw it. “Damn it, Win. What was that for?”

“For treating me like a defenseless child. I may not be a certified State Alchemist, but I can
take care of myself. Now, I’m going to go buy supplies alone, and you two are going to stay
here and work on your little bonding issue. And if I hear so much as a peep of complaint out
of either of you . . .”

She waved her wrench threateningly.

Ed and Al exchanged wary glances, and it was with a certain sense of relief that Ed watched
her leave. No matter how overprotective and overbearing he got, Winry would push forward,
undoubtedly pulling Ed and Al along with her. As long as they were around, he could
overcome anything.
“Hey, Al. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Brother.”

“What did it feel like when you and Winry bonded?”

Al took a few seconds to think it over, no doubt trying to make sense of Ed’s reasoning
behind the inquiry. “It was beautiful. It felt like I was complete in a way I’d never been
before, and it’s more pleasurable than anything else I’ve ever experienced. When her Core
connected to mine, I felt it in my soul. She became my soul. We still feel a bit of that every
time we touch, but nothing we’ve done since has compared.” Al’s dreamy expression
matched his tone.

Ed buried his bitterness and jealousy in a joke. “Not even sex?”

“We—I can’t—There’s no good answer to that.”

“Is there not?”

“No. If I say no, it’ll sound like the . . . the sex isn’t good.” Al whispered the word sex, and
Ed had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “If I say yes, it’s the same as
telling you we’ve had you-know-what, and if I don’t say anything, you’ll assume we’re doing
it, say something to her, and she’ll kill me.”

Ed stared at Al exactly long enough to make his brother fidget. “So the sex isn’t as good as
the bonding was. Bet Win’ll be disappointed to hear that.”

“Brother!” The librarian shushed them again, making Al’s blush deepen. “Well, if you and
Mustang ever end up . . . doing that, then I’m sure it’ll be the same for you. It’s not like
anything can realistically measure up to the initial feeling of bonding, you know?”

“Not really. I don’t remember my bonding.” Ed shrugged nonchalantly, doing his best not to
show his disappointment at never experiencing what was apparently the most pleasurable
moment of his life.

Al, of course, saw right through him. “Oh. Brother, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Al. I can still feel the bond itself, and it’s almost like a tiny re-bonding every time
we touch. Like I can feel his energy funneling through my Core and mine through his.”

Al’s expression twisted into something more thoughtful. “Funneling?”

“Yeah. Like our Cores are working off of the same energy source, and touching is re-
charging.”

“Are you sure? My bond doesn’t feel anything like that. For Winry and me, it’s more like our
Cores are linked. There’s a solidarity to it I find comforting, but we definitely still have our
own energy sources. They don’t mix.” Golden eyes locked as two brilliant minds raced
toward the same conclusion. “You don’t think . . .”
“That the reason Fire Cores can’t un-bond is because our Cores aren’t separate anymore? It
makes sense. If I store our energy, and us touching is how we replenish what we’ve used, it
explains everything. That’s why I would always feel the need to touch him, but he wouldn’t.
He can’t feel when the reserves are depleting like I can. Fuck!”

“Brother? What’s the matter?”

“It means we can’t un-bond.”

“I thought we already knew you couldn’t un-bond.”

“I don’t mean physically. I mean even if we do find a way to un-do this, we can’t. Separating
our Cores won’t put them back the way they were. If we un-bond, it’ll leave me with all the
reserves and Mustang with whatever he’s carrying now. He’ll likely still be able to do
alchemy, but there’s no telling how strong or weak he’ll be. He could be worse off than
before we bonded. Maybe before his inheritance, even.”

Suddenly Greeling’s offer seemed more like a cruel trick. Ed couldn’t trade out for a Shadow
Core even if he wanted to.

“Brother, I . . . I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry.”

Solely because he didn’t blame Al and didn’t want Al to blame himself, Ed said, “It’s fine.
It’s not like we were going to find a way to magically separate anyway. This just means I can
go ahead and shift my focus.”

“To what?”

“Something called a philosopher’s stone. I’ve run across mentions of it in my travels a few
times, always by some nut job looking to make the perfect chimera. If this is as big an
operation as I think it is, that’s probably the next step.”

Al nodded, accepting Ed’s reasoning as the whole truth without question. Guilt curdled in
Ed’s gut.

“That makes sense. I’ll go get—”

“That’s not actually why.” Al turned back in question, and Ed, unable to help himself,
blurted, “I mean, that stuff happened, but I know Brad’s after the philosopher’s stone because
Greeling told me so. We also know he’s behind the chimeras, so I just figured they were
connected. Sorry, Al.”

Al looked confused but not angry. “Why lie?”

“Because Greeling trusted me with a secret that he’s protected for a long time, and I don’t
want to betray that trust.” Ed paused, unsure how believable it would sound after what he’d
just done but needing to explain regardless. “Your trust matters more.”

Al watched Ed for a scant few seconds, then offered a blindingly bright grin. “You’re such a
kid sometimes, Brother. I don’t want you to lie to me, but I don’t want you to go around
betraying peoples’ confidence, either. If there’s something you can’t tell me, just say that. I
trust you’ll point me in the right direction anyway.”

Ed’s love for Al warmed his chest. He offered a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Al.”

“Of course. Now, would you rather I help you find books on the stone or do you want me to
look for something else?”

“The stone. You’ve got a better eye for historically important information than I do.”

Al laughed. “It’s not that I’ve got a better eye for it. It’s that I pay attention.”

“History is written by the victors. That makes it fiction. I hate fiction.”

“You didn’t always hate fiction.”

“What can I say? I’ve gotten cynical in my old age.”

Al rolled his eyes and began his search for books that could allude to the philosopher’s stone.
They ended up scouting thirteen books altogether, eight of which Ed planned on taking with
him when he left. The others were either dull (Al’s) or he’d finish them before departing.

Ed was halfway through his second book when the longing hit. The words on the page
blurred as his Core energy spiked, then immediately dropped. His first thought after that
energy shift was to wonder where Mustang was. Had the press conference finished yet, and if
so, would it be unreasonable for Ed to seek him out? To hold hands for a bit?

Ed glanced at a clock to see it wasn’t even two yet. The conference would still be going
strong.

“Brother?”

“Huh?”

“I was asking if you’ve found any major similarities in the arrays theorized to create a
philosopher’s stone.”

Ed looked back down at the book he’d been reading, traced a finger around one of the circles,
remembered doing the same thing to the array on Mustang’s glove once upon a time, and
once again had to be snapped out of his musings by Al.

“Brother, what’s going on?”

It was then that Ed took note of whom, exactly, he had been daydreaming about and nearly
smacked himself with frustration. “It’s the fucking bond. I don’t know what set it off, but
being near Mustang sounds”—images of curling up with Mustang by the seemingly ever-lit
fireplace in his living room while they discussed alchemic theory flashed through his head,
making him sigh, then groan—“nice.”
“Maybe you should go see him. It was really hard for Winry and me to be apart for a while
after we bonded. Physical contact was just about the only thing that helped.”

“The bastard’s in a press conference.”

“Then you can wait for him at the office.”

“I’m not an invalid. I can still help out here.”

Al sighed in a way that only he could without seeming irritated. “Brother, I’ve been through
the bonding process. If your bond is anywhere near as strong as mine and Winry’s—and I’m
betting it’s stronger—than doing anything without him by your side is going to be next to
impossible. Even now, if I weren’t talking to you, there’s a high probability you’d just slip
back into your daydreams. I’m not going to read the books aloud, so you’re no use here.” Al
placed an encouraging hand on Ed’s shoulder. “Go. I’ll let you know what I find.”

Ed frowned, noted how reliable and kind his brother was, got sidetracked by a thought about
Mustang being reliable, and reluctantly nodded. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t worry about it. Once Winry shows up, we’ll take these books back to Maes’s place.
I’ll bring your share to class tomorrow.” Al’s smile was strained and apologetic, letting Ed
know he still blamed himself for Ed’s bonding issues.

“Thanks, Al.”

“No problem, Brother.”

When Ed left the library, he fully intended to go to Mustang’s office. Halfway between
Central Command and the library, he retained those intentions. It wasn’t until he passed a
ritzy looking restaurant and saw Greeling chatting up some beautiful redhead that his
intentions strayed, and Ed found himself changing direction.

“Reservation?”

“Homunculi. Don’t worry. The rest of my group is already here.”

The waiter said something prissy about the Homulculi party being full and to wait for
confirmation, but Ed was already making his way to the table. When both Greeling and the
redhead looked up, only one of them seemed amused.

“May we help you?”

Ed took half a second to note that their food hadn’t come yet, another half second to decide
he was hungry, and a third half second to make his way behind Greeling. He linked his arms
comfortably around Greeling’s neck as he leaned over a broad shoulder, lips positioned next
to the older man’s ear as he said, “Gerard, did you not tell her this was a threesome?” He kept
his eyes on the increasingly shocked woman as he spoke, but he didn’t have to look at
Greeling to see the grin. Ed kept going, more empathetic now. “I bet he didn’t tell you about
the bondage, either, did he?”
When Greeling failed to appear either shocked or apologetic, she assumed Ed was telling the
truth and excused herself. Ed waited until she was out of the room, then took her seat.

Greeling sounded almost overly amused as he said, “I’m not actually a fan of threesomes,
you know. I’ve tried. It’s just that the whole sharing thing tends to trip me up. You
understand, right?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not generally into bondage, either, but I’m sure having you tied to my bed for a few
days could change my mind.”

Ed scoffed absentmindedly, his attention torn between this conversation, Mustang, and when
their food would arrive. “I’ll bet you say that to all the halfway handsome men who crash
your dates.”

“I’m not into men, believe it or not.”

Ed turned his full focus on Greeling’s smug grin. “Then why the fuck are you always hitting
on me?”

“Because I’m into you.”

Ed’s first instinct was to say Greeling was lying, but that was just about the only immoral
thing Greeling didn’t do. “Seriously?”

“I know this seems counterproductive to every conversation we’ve had up to this point, but
sucking cock doesn’t usually get me going. I like large breasts and a soaking pussy.”

The waiter chose that moment to walk up, his confusion over both their conversation and the
change in occupants giving Ed the proper time to stare.

“I’m sorry. I believe I have the wrong—”

“The food’s mine. She just ordered for me.”

Greeling’s nod gave the waiter the confidence he needed to set their plates down and hightail
it out of there.

“So you’re saying you’ve never been attracted to a guy before?”

“Never. Somehow, thinking of any man other than you bent over my kitchen table makes me
want to wash the table.”

Ed laughed at the absurdity of the claim and dug into his pasta. “You’re fucked up.”

“Probably.”

They ate in silence, both knowing that the next topic would be why Ed chose to crash
Greeling’s date. Ed thought for a second that finishing their food meant he had to put his urge
to go to Greeling into words, but the waiter came back with dessert menus, and Ed was
saved. He ordered the chocolate cake, the cheesecake, ice cream, and a lemon torte. Greeling
didn’t order anything, but he moved his chair to Ed’s right and took bites as he pleased.

Not that Ed had any right to complain. It was Greeling’s money he was spending.

By the time the plates cleared, not even Ed had room for more. That left him staring into
overly-amused eyes over the lenses of Greeling’s ridiculous sunglasses.

Unable to do anything that could later be filed under cowardice, Ed said, “What are the
chances you’ve got some obscure way to circumvent the post-bond need to be around
Mustang all the time?”

Greeling outright laughed, and Ed found himself thankful for an acquaintance (friend?) who
found his situation humorous instead of pitiful. “Oh, I have a way, but it only lasts for around
a day at a time, and you aren’t going to like it.”

“What is it?”

“Fuck him.”

Ed’s nose scrunched in distaste. “I’m serious, Greeling.”

“So am I. If I were joking, I would have said ‘fuck me’ instead of ‘fuck him.’ See the
difference?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, and I’m serious. Look, I was alive back when arranged marriages were really popular.
Most of the time, a floozy with a nice dowry wasn’t a good enough reason to take off work
for a week. There were no official studies on it because influential people like to keep their
personal lives nice and cozy in the eyes of the masses, but there was an obvious difference in
the people who could stay away from their bondmates and those who couldn’t. Sex.

“People who sealed the deal on the first night and every night henceforth, at least for the first
week or so, made it through their process without bonding sickness—that’s what we called it
back then—and people who didn’t, well, didn’t. Now, I don’t know if legitimate sex is
required, but I know the more intimate you get, the longer you can be apart.”

Ed leaned back in his seat, uneasy with the whole concept. “You’re right. I don’t like that.”

“Well, you could always forget about him, switch Cores, and fuck me instead.”

Ed rolled his eyes, secretly glad that his lack of want for a Shadow Core wasn’t a sore spot
for Greeling. “Right. Because that’s so much better.”

“I don’t know how Mustang is in bed to say whether or not I’m legitimately better, but I’m
pretty damn good.”

Greeling’s cocky grin pulled out Ed’s unwilling smile. “Can we head to your place?”
“Depends. Are we finally going to fuck?”

“Close. I want to practice changing my skin into graphene, and testing a few things out on
you will help.”

“Sure.” Greeling agreed almost before Ed finished talking, granting Ed the knowledge that it
didn’t actually matter what his reasoning was. Greeling would accept him regardless.

In an overly obsessive, unnecessarily sexual, generally irritating way, it was nice.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy cursed his and Fullmetal’s bond for the majority of the press conference.

The conference itself went as smoothly as it could’ve when considering how fully the topic
had shifted from chimeras to Fullmetal. Perhaps the chimeras would have kept some of the
attention if their bonding had been the only news, but the revelation of Fullmetal’s Core type
on top of that had an uproarious effect.

His previous statement of being finished around three turned out to be a gross
underestimation. He didn’t get out of the conference until close to seven, and even then, he
had to deal with scheduling the re-measurement of their Core strengths.

By the time he got to the office, it was a quarter past eight. He had a mountain of paperwork
to do and multiple reports to listen to. The workload wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. It
came with the job. His bond with Edward was what made it unbearable.

While their night together had staved off the craving for having Edward by his side at all
points in time, it only did so temporarily. Just before two o’clock, Roy’s Core had exploded
with an intensive need to be with Edward. His thoughts circled the blonde without his
consent, and in that way, he was almost lucky for how the press’s attention had shifted.

The rest of his work, unfortunately, did not revolve around Edward. So when Havoc started
speaking about the likely origins of the chimera ingredients, he had to work to pay attention.
After catching himself tuning his knight out for the third time, he told the chain smoker just
to write it down and have it on his desk by morning. Falman and Breda’s reports went no
better, and Roy didn’t even attempt to focus on his paperwork.

Hawkeye didn’t bother to raise her gun when she saw the state he was in. She told him to go
home.

Unfortunately, home was just as void of Edward as everywhere else. His Core stirred
uneasily inside him, not-so-subtly demanding he go find his bondmate. Roy forced the urge
down. He had promised Fullmetal independence, and he would rather die than go back on his
word.
So he lit the fireplace, poured himself a scotch on the rocks, and stared at the flames until his
Core ached to the point of wanting to cry. Being together the night before had helped sate his
urges, but now that his Core knew what it could have, it wanted more.

He knew Edward didn’t feel this way—didn’t feel this strongly—or else the blonde wouldn’t
be able to help but come back to him. Because this was past pain. It was agony. His very soul
was being ripped apart, heart pounding a constant mantra into his ribcage.

Find Edward. Find Edward. Keep him safe.

But Roy couldn’t.

Morning came before he knew it. He found himself standing in the shower, reliving the way
golden eyes widened and tan skin flushed at the sight of Roy getting himself off.

He thought about pretending Edward was there and doing it again, just to take his mind off
the pain coiling ever-tighter inside him, but it was impossible to get hard. All his body could
focus on was the lack of Edward, and it violently rejected all-else. Roy ended up idling in the
school parking lot over an hour earlier than necessary for the slim chance of seeing Edward
before class.

Surprisingly, it worked.

Fullmetal arrived in a familiar, flashy vehicle whose price would have even Roy blanching. It
was only thanks to the simultaneous anticipation and angst thrumming through his Core that
he knew where to look.

Edward had spent the night with Gerard.

Roy’s emotional response to the sight of them together—relief, anger, jealousy, want, fear,
rejection—was dizzying in its intensity. He caught Edward’s eyes as he steadied himself, and
the blonde waved Gerard away with an easy swat of his hand before making his way to Roy.
Fullmetal’s lips curled downward in a displeased, somewhat concerned frown.

“You look like shit, Mustang.”

Roy opened his mouth to give a snarky response, but his Core nearly thrashed him for it.
Edward looked stunning, and that was what he needed to say. Make up for whatever had
gone wrong. Make Edward like him again. Please his bondmate. That was what he wanted.

He swayed a bit to the side as instincts he’d never had before tried to overtake him, and
Fullmetal’s flesh hand wrapped around his bicep in a gentle, steadying motion.

The relief was instant.

The pain and need and desperation that’d been over-stuffing his veins dissipated to nothing.
Roy sighed as absolute pleasure turned his bones to rubber and melted his resolve to give
Edward his space. He leaned more heavily against his subordinate, breathing in the chalk and
musk that always seemed to permeate blonde locks. And if he couldn’t stop the panic from
flitting across his face when Edward made to pull away, who could blame him? Being away
from Edward meant pain and disorientation and—

Strong fingers intertwined with his own as Edward said, “Come on, Mustang,” and led the
way to school. Roy didn’t say anything, too-aware of this seemingly new, primal part of
himself and its fear of being left again should his words come out wrong. They went down an
unfamiliar hallway and swept into a room that could barely count as a closet for how small it
was. That was where he regained his senses.

“Fullmetal, what—”

“Tell anyone about this, and I’ll throttle you.”

Edward disentangled their fingers to instead furl both hands in Roy’s hair, lean up on his toes,
and crash their lips together.

Roy abruptly lost his senses again.

He reached out without hesitation, lest the moment be lost, and wrapped his arms around
Edward’s waist. Roy tore his gloves off and slipped his hands under Edward’s shirt for
blessed skin-on-skin contact. He tilted his head, searching for the best angle to ravage
sinfully perfect lips.

He found it with ease. His tongue darted out to swipe across Edward’s bottom lip, and the
Lieutenant Colonel responded with an encouraging moan and open mouth almost before he
finished. Roy dipped his tongue into Edward’s mouth. Across his teeth. Over his tongue.
Edward tasted like nothing and saliva and home.

Their kiss broke multiple times, though never for more than a moment and generally to
readjust. Edward’s steel fingers tugged lightly at Roy’s hair while his flesh hand massaged
the base of Roy’s neck, and Roy’s hands were no idler.

He felt scars littering an otherwise smooth back and the asymmetry of one side turning to
metal while the other made a smooth transition from trim waist to broad shoulders. Roy
snuck one hand around to tease Edward’s only nipple, and he was pleasantly surprised when
the touch elicited a breathy moan.

Roy flattened his hand against Edward’s pecs as gently as possible, overly aware of Edward’s
wounds even in this frenzied state. He slid his hand down Fullmetal’s abs, angled a diagonal
across his taut stomach, and came to rest on his hip. The tips of his pinky and ring fingers
dipped into Fullmetal’s pants, but if the blonde minded, he didn’t say so.

Edward was the one to finally press their erections together, causing both men to dislodge the
kiss and breathe. Roy wasn’t sure which of them moaned—maybe both—but it was Edward
who reconnected their lips while Roy ground their hips together.

He dragged his cock over Edward’s with enough force to push the other man against the door.
His fingers slipped further into Edward’s pants, just enough to feel the smooth transition
between hip and pelvis, before pulling out and using both hands to get a firm grasp on the
thigh muscle just below Edward’s perfect ass.

He lifted Fullmetal off his feet, arousal spiking as Edward caught on and wrapped his legs
around Roy’s waist. Roy leaned forward to leverage Edward between himself and the door
before taking advantage of their new position and grinding their dicks together.

Edward roughened their kiss, teeth nipping. He pushed his tongue into Roy’s mouth, doing
his best to imitate Roy’s technique, and damn if he wasn’t a fast learner.

The burn wound encroached on Fullmetal’s visible pectoral while still-scabbing horn-scrapes
ran up the center of his chest, but they left just enough uninjured skin for Roy to free one
hand and comfortably go back to teasing Edward’s nipple.

He hadn’t meant for the kiss to go as far as it had, but now that it was there, all he wanted to
do was explore further. He swiped his thumb experimentally across the hard nub, humming
as Fullmetal arched in his direction.

Roy opened his mouth wider so Edward could kiss him deeper. He sucked on Edward’s
tongue, missed the taste of Edward’s mouth, and re-dominated their kiss. Keeping in time
with his thrusts, Roy trapped that precious nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gave
a light twist.

Edward’s voice hitched into a sweet little whine that went straight to Roy’s dick.

He encouraged the response with a tilt of his hips and a hard, slow drag up Edward’s cock.
Mismatched fingers dug into Roy’s shoulders, the metal ones pressing just a little too hard
and somehow making it all the better as Edward enthusiastically bucked back

Roy raked his nails down the uninjured part of Edward’s chest before coming back up,
catching Edward’s nipple between his fingers, and starting over again. Roy was a master at
riding the line between teasing and pleasing, and unfortunately for Edward, he was set on not
crossing over to the pleasure side without using his mouth.

God, if Edward reacted like this with just his fingers, what would the blonde do when he—

Edward startled Roy from his fantasies with low moan, and only then did Roy realize he’d
been rolling his hips in time with the nipple play. Edward jerked his head back, breaking their
kiss and knocking his scalp against the door with a breathless, “Stop. Stop, Mustang. I’m too
close, you’ve got to—”

“Cum for me.”

Roy quickened his pace and put more pressure on Edward’s overly-sensitive nipple, easily re-
establishing their kiss. Fullmetal only lasted seconds before fisting his hands into Roy’s
uniform and pulling him closer. Baritone moans. Trembling thighs. A full-body shudder.

And finally, “Mustang.”

Roy’s name had never sounded sweeter. A literal angel could’ve sang it and still been found
lacking. Edward relaxed against Roy’s chest, practically limp in his post-orgasmic bliss. The
tips of metal fingers played with the little hairs at the base of Roy’s scalp.

Roy lowered his hand to its original spot beneath Edward’s ass for balance. He slowed his
thrusts to a gentle rocking motion, their kiss losing its fervency to settle into something more
languid.

He was still steel-hard with what felt like lava flowing through him, but Roy had no need for
release. Both he and his Core were all too happy to focus on Edward’s pleasure alone. He
didn’t know what had brought on this bout of intimacy, but he wanted it to make sure it
continued.

Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.

He traded their kiss for a chaste string of kisses. Then he kissed a line from corner of
Edward’s lips down his neck, every now and again pausing to nip or suck at soft tan flesh.
When he reached Edward’s collarbone, he kissed his way back up again, gently fastening his
teeth on the soft lobe of Edward’s ear.

Edward made a quiet noise with the back of his throat and rolled his hips. Roy chuckled, their
bodies pressed so close that he could feel Edward’s cock twitch. He kissed Edward’s hair. His
temple. His cheek. Minutes passed in contented silence before Edward broke the spell with a
gruff, “Lemme go.”

Roy basked in their embrace for an extra second, then set Edward on his feet and backed up.

They proceeded to stare at each other.

While Roy was sure his cheeks were dusted red from exertion, he was also sure the color was
fading. Edward’s blush, on the other hand, appeared to have nothing to do with energy
expended. If anything, it got darker. Edward stared silently at the wall and floor. Roy took his
time admiring Edward’s messy golden hair, skewed shirt, cum-wettened pants, and apparent
inability to look Roy in the eyes.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why—”

“Because you looked like shit, and I figured this would help.”

Roy cocked a brow at the entirely inadequate explanation.

Edward crossed his arms defensively over his chest and glared at the wall. “This stupid
fucking bond is going to bother me for the rest of my life, yeah, but the first couple weeks
focus on you. Your Core is the one that’s unstable, and without physical contact, it’s bound to
go a little haywire.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“Greeling said sex helps us be apart for longer. Something about arranged marriages and
bonding etiquette or some shit. I don’t want to have sex with you, but I figured this would
 stave off the need for a while.” He shrugged, shoulders tense. “I don’t really know the details.
All I know is that you looked like shit, and now you don’t.” Anger seemed to override
embarrassment as Edward finally turned his glare on Roy. “Unfortunately, you didn’t fucking
stop when I told you to, and now it’s me who looks like shit.”

Edward punctuated the statement with a jerky gesture to his crotch.

Roy couldn’t help his smile as he again took in the fruits of his labor, cock straining eagerly
against his pants at the thought of doing it again. Edward didn’t offer to help him out with his
lingering arousal, and Roy didn’t expect otherwise.

“I can dry your pants, but the boxers should be washed.”

Edward sneered like he found Roy’s offer to help offensive, but the blush spanning from his
neck to the tips of his ears took the bite out of it. He pinned Roy with his glare, angry and
embarrassed, then reached for the button on his jeans. “Be quick about it.”

There was nothing sexual about the way he yanked down his pants, hopping on one leg to be
able to shed them in something close to a single motion. Roy still found it attractive. Metal
fingers twitched to cover his soiled boxers before pride won over embarrassment and he
crossed his arms instead.

Roy accepted the offered cloth, snapped his fingers, and handed it back. Fullmetal fidgeted
for an entire half-second before saying, “Well? Turn the fuck around.”

Roy turned without arguing, the majority of him still riding the high of Edward’s attention.
The small part of him coming back to the here-and-now wanted to panic over what they had
just done—the steps no doubt backtracked in their relationship—but he ignored it.

“Done.”

Roy turned around with barely enough time to catch the gloves flying toward his face. He
assumed Edward was going to rush out the door, but the Alchemist of the People dallied. A
metal hand ruffling blonde hair. Eyes anywhere but Roy.

A terse, “You good now?”

“I am.”

As soon as the words left Roy’s mouth, Edward left the room.

Roy leaned against the door that would forever be where he first ravaged Edward Elric and
sighed. Now that his thoughts weren’t a jumbled mess and his Core wasn’t trying to tear itself
out of his body in search of his bondmate, he could appreciate the headache that inevitably
came with trying to figure out what to do next.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 25
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Maes always told their story like a fairy tale. He called Gracia an angel whose beauty and
kindness could be surpassed by none. He bragged that by the end of their first meeting, he
was already professing his love and requesting a life together. He said they lived happily ever
after from there.

Only one of those things was true.

Maes had, in fact, professed his undying love to Gracia the first time they met. She, in turn,
made an excuse about forgetting to feed her cat and hurried away. As much as Maes was
handsome and fun to be around, love at first sight had been a little too much for Gracia to
handle. She’d assumed she’d never see him again.

When he stumbled upon her part-time job, that assumption was not only proven wrong, it
was wholly crushed. He visited her every single day, sometimes getting thrown out for not
having the money to buy anything, and talked until Gracia could excuse herself under the
pretext of being busy.

Most of his stories were about Roy, though they were all punctuated with questions about
Gracia. Her thoughts, her feelings, her experiences: he wanted to know everything. Gracia,
by that point almost positive she was being stalked, refused to answer even a single question.

Embarrassingly enough, it was Roy who finally caught her attention. He came into the store
with Maes, content to browse as his friend swooned. Honestly, Gracia barely heard a word
Maes said. Her flighty fifteen-year-old heart was caught up in a flurry of romantic thoughts
about the tall, handsome boy that hung out with her stalker and how this could be fate. For as
much as Maes never spoke about himself, he always talked about Roy. Roy, the charming
alchemy prodigy turned war hero.

So when Maes finished his rambling by asking her to attend a party with them, she said yes.

The party came and went with Gracia ogling Roy and offhandedly answering questions from
Maes. Despite her hopes, it was Maes who walked Gracia home while Roy went home with
someone else.

Two weeks went by before they next invited her to hang out, and she eagerly agreed. This
time though, she had a plan. Halfway through the event, Gracia asked Maes to get her a drink
—something she knew they didn’t serve—and watched as Maes happily ran off to fetch it.

She then turned to Roy, excited to finally have his undivided attention, only to find that as
much as Maes talked about Roy, Roy talked about Maes. About how smart Maes was. About
how kind Maes was. About how loyal Maes was.
She tried multiple times to turn the conversation back to Roy until he finally said, “Look, the
only reason I’m alive today is Maes, and I’m not going to repay that by stealing his girl.”

Then Maes reappeared with her requested drink in hand. He was panting and the ice had
already melted, and Gracia felt the guilt that only ever came with being caught. If Roy, who
never spoke to her, knew that she had been angling for him then surely so did Maes. Yet there
he was, drink in hand, apologizing for taking so long.

At the end of the night, Gracia asked Maes to walk her home and invited him out for coffee:
just the two of them. She still had no intentions of going out with him, but for all that she had
used him and for all that he had been kind to her, she figured he deserved at least that much.

Their coffee date, surprisingly, went well. Once she stopped thinking of Maes as an overly-
enthusiastic stalker, she realized that he was just genuinely smart. Yes, he paid extra attention
to her, but he also noticed what books people were reading and if they often wore the same
jewelry. He could look around the room and tell her something personal about everyone: who
was having an affair, who had dreams of something bigger, and who hadn’t slept the night
before.

It was an exhilarating game, and it was also when Gracia realized that she needed to directly
apologize. If Maes could know all of those things about a group of strangers, he must have
realized what Gracia had been doing, too. Maybe from the very start.

So she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said, “I’m sorry about earlier. It was
wrong of me to use you like that.”

She braced herself for sadness and anger, and she was surprised when he laughed. “It’s fine.
People always notice Roy first. He’s got that flashy sort of allure to him, you know? I was the
same way when we met back in boot camp. I thought, ‘This is a guy who knows where he’s
going,’ and I followed him around until he noticed me back.”

His grin was contagious. “So that’s how you get all your friends, huh? Just follow them until
you become a part of their lives?”

“It’s worked so far.”

When she accepted his next invitation, it had nothing to do with Roy. Maes was fun and
exciting and absolutely brilliant. He planned dates that left her swooning and never came to
her door without flowers. When she finally admitted to loving him, he returned her love with
just as much fervor as the first time they’d met.

It didn’t surprise her that a life with Maes also included a life with Roy. Before his political
career really picked up, he would show up at the house unexpectedly to whisk Maes away for
scheming and trips down memory lane.

Though Roy was always dating (if it could be called that) someone new, he never brought
any of them over. For as many people as Roy had crowding around him, begging for his
attention, he was lonely. He took people home with him to temporarily fill a void inside, and
Gracia was never more thankful not to have been one of those flings.
That thankfulness was her first thought when she heard about Roy focusing on Edward. As
much as Maes was excited, Gracia felt uneasy. Perhaps it was because she was a mother, but
the thought of sweet, smart, socially awkward Edward getting swept away at Roy’s pace
made her cringe inside.

That being said, when Maes declared Roy held romantic intentions (a phrase that’d never
previously been applied to Roy) for Edward, Gracia could believe it. Roy had never fixated
on anyone for so long before, and never so protectively. She watched him predict and plan
and pine, and by the time he finally gathered up the courage to do something about his
feelings, it was Roy she worried about.

Because Roy was every bit as in love with Edward as Maes had been in love with Gracia, and
Edward returned none of it. Unlike Gracia’s situation, Edward did know Roy. He knew about
Roy’s mannerisms and job and personality. He listened when Roy spoke, and they interacted
every day. And still, Edward didn’t seem to like him.

As much as Gracia wanted to cheer Roy on, she worried that it might be time to face the
facts. Maybe Roy and Edward just weren’t meant to be. And if that were the case, how could
she bring it up? Should she bring it up? Was it worse to crush Roy’s hopes or let him continue
on unaware until Edward crushed them himself?

She asked herself these questions a few times a week, at minimum. The more obvious Roy’s
infatuation became, the more pondering she did. It was tiring and never ended with a solid
decision, but she couldn’t make herself stop.

She was actually in the middle of weighing the pros and cons of warning Roy when her
doorbell rang. Maes was at work, and Elicia, Alphonse, and Winry were all at school. Gracia
had friends of her own, but none of them ever visited without calling first.

Fear clenched her heart, as it so often did after Envy and the chimera’s assault on her home,
but she forced herself to be strong. Gracia reached up and ran a finger across her pendant.
She felt instantly more secure when a returning warmth spread through her chest. If there was
trouble on the other side of the door, Maes was waiting to hear about it.

Gracia opened the door with a calm confidence that she didn’t feel and was relieved to see
Edward on the other side. He hadn’t visited since Elicia’s meltdown. She tapped her pendant
twice, relaying the false alarm.

“Edward?”

“Hey, Gracia. Sorry to drop in on you like this. You busy?”

“Not at all. Come in.” Gracia stepped aside so he could enter. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Edward scratched the back of his neck, uncharacteristically subdued as he joined her in the
living room. He took a minute to find his voice. “Do you know how to embroider stuff?”

“I do. Would you like something embroidered?”

“No. Kind of. I want to learn how to embroider. Just the basics is fine. I mean, I read a book
on it this morning, but I really think seeing it would help.”

Gracia tilted her head, more than a little confused as to why Edward would be looking for
embroidery lessons.

He hurriedly continued, “It’s just that the thing I want to embroider is super detailed and kind
of temperamental, so I need to make sure it’s right.”

“I see.” She knew it was in her best interest not to know everything that went on in Maes’s
work circle, but curiosity was a hell of a drug. “May I ask what this embroidery is for? Or
of?”

Edward’s cheeks tinted a pretty pink as he fidgeted and glared at the floor. “It’s uh . . . gloves.
For Mustang.” He cringed as they made eye contact.

Gracia did her best not to smile. “Did something happen to his gloves?”

“No. I mean, maybe, but that’s not why I want to do it. I’m messing with a new theory for
alchemy being based on molecular rearrangement. When I applied it to the array on the back
of Mustang’s gloves, I found a more stable, easier to control arrangement. It should help him
a lot, but it’s too powerful to put out into the world. Especially with Brad controlling the
world. I figured I’d do it myself.” Edward tried to shrug it off, but he was a terrible liar.
Gracia waited patiently for him to continue. After a few seconds, in a much quieter voice, he
did. “I might also be about to do something that could put us in danger. I’d feel better about it
if he had a little extra protection.”

Edward glanced at her as though he was afraid she’d start cooing or berating, but all she felt
was relief. If he was willing to go this far, maybe there was hope for Roy after all.

(***Intertwined***)

Blood and smoke and death were thick in the air, and Roy was choking on them. Burning
demons ran wildly toward him—toward anything that wasn’t the hell they came from—
screaming like banshees. Roy wanted to curl into a ball and cover his ears. He wanted to
block out the dark-skinned, charcoal-flaked monsters with terrible red eyes.

His commanding officer’s suffocatingly heavy hand on his shoulder ruined any chance of
that. “Mustang! Stop pussyfooting around and smoke the rats out! We need more firepower!”

The other soldiers in Roy’s squad mercilessly shot down any rats that dared flee too far from
their burning city. Roy tried to stop his hands from trembling long enough to snap.

His team needed him.

His country needed him.

He had his orders.

Roy woke drenched in sweat. He sucked in deep, shaky breaths as he tried to remind himself
where he was. He glanced first to the right, where his clock read 2:08 AM, then rolled to the
left to feel the cool side of the mattress. It was then that he noticed Edward propped against
the foot of the bed, scribbling in a journal.

“Fullmetal?”

Edward didn’t look up as he said, “I couldn’t sleep,” and Roy didn’t ask him to explain.

“Do you . . .” Roy hesitated, not entirely sure where the broom closet make-out session had
left their relationship. “Do you want to join me?”

“Depends. Do you think you’ll actually be able to go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Roy pushed sweat-slick bangs off his forehead, internally debating between finding a reason
to touch Edward and allowing Edward the freedom to choose how quickly or slowly they
progressed (if they progressed at all).

Edward saved him the trouble of making a decision by asking, “Do you want to go on a date
with me?”

“I would like nothing more.”

“I mean right now.”

Roy glanced back at the clock to affirm that it really was only two in the morning, then sat
up. He tried to think up a passably suave response before deciding he just wasn’t feeling it.
He nodded.

“Great. Get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“What am I dressing for?”

“A walk.”

“A walk where?”

Fullmetal stood and shrugged. He exited the room, leaving Roy to prepare for . . . a walk. To
somewhere. Roy debated over whether this could be a test before accepting that Fullmetal
didn’t have a conniving bone in his body. It was a deep set self-hatred and inability to drudge
up his normal swagger that had Roy grabbing a pair of jeans and an undershirt. Fullmetal was
already waiting for him outside, and they started walking in a seemingly random direction
without preamble.
When Roy paused at the crossroads between 32nd and 7th, Edward twined their fingers
together and led them forward. Some part of Roy—the part that was still barely a teen trying
not to choke on the smog of death and decay—feared the answer to why Edward was doing
this, so he didn’t ask. Roy tightened his grip on Edward’s hand, and Edward gently squeezed
back.

In the dark of the night on a deserted sidewalk, Edward said, “I want to talk about the Core
Strength Evaluations.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be a pretty public event, right? I mean, they’re always open to the public,
but with how much the press has been hounding us, I figure this one will actually get a turn
out. Right?”

“Most likely.”

“Yeah, so I know I’m supposed to keep my head down or whatever, but I want to talk to the
people.”

Roy’s brows rose disbelievingly. “You want to give a speech?”

Fullmetal scrunched his nose, then nodded. “Sounds shittier when you put it like that, but
yeah. I want to set up a sort of event in the park on Saturday. One where anyone can drop by
and get some tips on how to defend themselves. I figured you and your unit could help with
organization, and anybody else who knows self-defense techniques can jump in as an
instructor. You know, volunteer and shit. That way instructors can come and go as they need
to, and random citizens aren’t walking into the danger zone totally fucking blind.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

Amber eyes watched Roy through thick blonde lashes, and Roy realized Fullmetal was
waiting to be shot down. He was ready to protest, ready to fight, and ready to compromise.
He was doing what they had agreed to all those nights ago and treating Roy as a comrade. He
was trying to trust.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Blonde brows furrowed. “Seriously? You know your stupid military appreciation dinner is
Saturday, too, right?”

“I’m aware. And you’re right that, under normal circumstances, that would make a
difference. By planning an event focused on helping the people protect themselves on a day
where we’re supposed to be celebrating our military, you’re undermining Bradley’s authority.
You’re making a scene and inviting further retaliation. But if we’re going to defeat the
Führer, we have to make sure he doesn’t see it coming.”

“How is telling him our plan going to make him less likely to see it coming?”
“It’s politics.”

“Not good enough. I know I’m shit at politics, but you’re going to have to be a little fucking
clearer than that. Not liking the stuff doesn’t mean I won’t understand it.”

Roy swallowed the lump in his throat and watched Fullmetal assess him with bright,
intelligent eyes.

It wasn’t that Roy thought Fullmetal incapable of understanding the political side of their
war. It was that he didn’t want to admit what utilizing Fullmetal meant. It was Roy’s job to
play to the politics. He had to know the board, every piece on the board, and use that
knowledge to anticipate the next ten moves and countermoves.

As much as it was his duty to use everything at his disposal, he’d been pushing Fullmetal off
to the side. The Lieutenant Colonel was an entirely new piece with a completely different set
of rules, and he flipped the usual political dance on its head. Utilizing Fullmetal required Roy
to stop playing to the politics and start playing to the strength of his pawns. Unfortunately,
Fullmetal’s strength was on the front lines, carving the path for everyone else.

As much as Roy needed to exercise Fullmetal to his fullest potential, he didn’t want to. He
didn’t want Fullmetal on the front lines. He didn’t want to use Edward’s talents the way they
were meant to be used. He didn’t want his bondmate in danger. Worst of all, he respected
Edward too much to continue undermining his usefulness.

Roy breathed a soft sigh as he accepted what he was about to do. “I’m saying I want you to
be bait. Distract the Führer so fully that he doesn’t see me and my team sneaking through the
smokescreen.”

“Hold up. So you want me to . . .?”

“Piss him off.”

Fullmetal stared at Roy for a few seconds, cogs clicking away behind his eyes. A daring grin
broke his calm. “Fuck yeah I can do that.”

“Fullmetal, I need you to think about this for a minute. You’re agreeing to direct all of Führer
King Bradley’s anger at yourself. You’ll be engaging in a political and likely physical battle
with the most powerful man in Amestris.”

“That’s fine.”

“Fullmetal—”

“I play the distraction a lot. Seriously. I’m for it.”

Roy stopped, and because they were holding hands, Edward stopped, too. “Edward, you
could die.” Roy paused, attempting to drill the seriousness of their situation into Edward’s
skull with a single look. “I’ll do everything I can, but in a head-to-head battle with Bradley,
the risks are just as high as the rewards. And with my role in the shadows, my hands will be
tied. If you get into more trouble than you can handle, there’s a good chance I won’t be able
to bail you out.”

Surprisingly, Edward’s grin softened. “I know. And that’s fine, Mustang. We’re standing up
for what we believe in and protecting people. If I’ve got to die, that’s how I want to go.”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat, and he became very suddenly aware of the plan he’d just
proposed. Of the terribly high chance of losing his bondmate. Of how painful it would be
never to see that brilliant smile again.

He squeezed Edward’s hand and forced his voice not to crack as he said, “Start out slow,
okay? Rallying the people to protect themselves is a good first move, but don’t overdo it. You
want him irritated, not in an all-out rage.”

Edward, completely unaware of the wild, wonderful things he did to Roy’s heart, turned and
restarted their walk. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious. If you’ve got too much pent-up aggression beforehand, funnel it into the
physical exam. Your speech should engage the Führer's attention, nothing more.”

Edward rolled his eyes before getting distracted and saying, “Shit. That reminds me. I think I
figured out why we can’t un-bond.”

“Promise me, Fullmetal. If you go overboard, he’ll only kill you faster. You’re no good to me
dead.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve talked to people before. Just trust me on this, okay?”

“That’s not a promise.”

“And that’s not trust.”

Edward’s stare was unyielding, his baleful glare daring Roy to press the issue further.

Roy sighed under his breath, silently accepting their previous conversation as a lost cause.
“Why can’t we un-bond?”

“You know how Fire Cores funnel their energy into one another while bonding, whereas
other Cores just latch onto each other?”

“Yes.”

“I think the funneling is permanent. I think when it happens, the majority of the reserves are
left with me. Every time we touch, the energy funnels again to recharge. We can both access
it, but only I can feel when it’s depleting. That’s why the need to touch stays with me even
after your Core stabilizes.”

“Are you saying you won’t be able to replenish your Core on your own?”

“I can. It’s just way slower.”

Roy hummed, not liking that he couldn’t read his own energy levels. If they got into a
largescale battle and he wasn’t careful, he could easily put Edward into the same state that
forced their bonding in the first place.

“If that’s true, the Core Evaluations are going to make you out to be one hell of a threat.”

“And they’ll undermine how much of a threat you are. It’s perfect for what we want, but I
figured you should be prepared for the results. You’ll probably register somewhere around
your original power levels despite having already gone through your inheritance.”

Roy nodded, still frowning. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Edward, in simultaneous with Roy’s gratitude, said, “Oh cool. Let’s go in here.”

Edward took a sharp turn into a seedy piano bar, and their linked hands left Roy no choice
but to follow. It had seven patrons, including Roy and Edward, and three of them were either
asleep or getting there. The floor was dirty, the lights were dimmed with grunge, and the
piano player definitely didn’t take requests. It was somewhere Roy never would’ve entered
on his own.

Edward let go of Roy’s hand and sauntered over to the bar like he belonged there. “Got any
juice?”

The bartender tossed Fullmetal an odd look that the blonde ignored. “Juice?”

“Yeah. Like from fruit.”

“We got juice. You want it mixed with anything?” The bartender paused. “You old enough to
have it mixed with anything?”

Edward sneered. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ old enough. But I don’t want it mixed with anything.
Think you can handle that?”

“Yep.” The bartender turned to Roy. “You want juice , too?”

“I suppose I do. Give me a bloody Mary, hold the Mary.”

The bartender nodded and got their drinks without a fuss. Edward, however, looked
disgusted. “Plain tomato juice? Gross.”

“It’s a matter of taste, Edward. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Uh-huh. Fuck you, Mustang.”

The bartender handed them their drinks. Roy smirked and sipped his juice.

Edward watched him over the lip of his glass, eyes intent. “We’re not dating, you know.”

“Well, I’m not dating anyone else.”

Roy couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure Edward tossed back the rest of his juice to
hide a smile.

“You play anything?”

“Play?”

Edward motioned blandly to the piano.

“No. Maes and I fiddled with a harmonica in boot camp, but that’s about it.”

“Let’s try it out.” Fullmetal was up and striding toward the disgruntled-looking piano player
before Roy could protest. Roy downed the rest of his drink and followed. Edward stopped
next to the bench, all rough edges and confidence. He tapped on the lid of the piano. “Hey.
You mind if we take over for a bit?”

The piano man looked up but didn’t stop playing. “Troy send you?”

“Nah. Just thought it’d be fun to fiddle with. It isn’t like anyone here is sober enough to
notice if we suck.”

The piano player glanced around the room before shrugging and ceasing to play. “Go for it.”

He didn’t wait to see what they would do before disappearing behind the bar. Edward paid
equal amounts of attention to the musician as he slid onto the bench. Roy watched Fullmetal
press every single key from left to right and then again from right to left. Edward tilted his
head and repeated the process a third time.

“Do you hear that?”

Roy sat on the bench next to his bondmate, enjoying the rush of Core energy that came with
their thighs touching. “Hear what?”

“The math.”

Roy looked from Fullmetal to the piano and back again. “Math?”

“Yeah. It’s in the notes. The way they mix. The scales. Do you hear it?”

Roy did not, in fact, hear the math. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the possibility of
hearing math, if he was being honest.

Looking at Fullmetal, though, it almost seemed like the blonde could do more than just hear
the math. It seemed like he could see it. Like every press of a key put a number in the air,
mixing and interacting to make equations Roy couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Fullmetal didn’t wait for an answer before he started mixing up the notes, gaining speed as he
went. Music that Roy had never heard before—that no one had ever heard before—filled the
air within minutes. As complex rises and falls that other musicians spent their lives
composing poured from Fullmetal’s fingertips, Roy relaxed. A few sour notes interrupted the
flow when Edward stopped staring down the ivories, but it was no less impressive.

Edward swayed, pressing their shoulders together and smiling almost conspiratorially at Roy.
He slowed the music to something simple and sweet. Roy had to swallow around the sudden,
overwhelming adoration filling him to the brim.

“My mom used to hum this while doing chores. She’d say, ‘If you hear this song, either play
outside or pick up a rag.’ You can guess which one we chose.” Edward leaned away from
Roy, though not enough to disconnect their biceps. “I don’t remember what it’s called.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Most of the things she did were beautiful.”

Roy resisted the urge to press a kiss to Edward’s temple and whisper sweet nothings, and he
awed over the fact that he wanted to do it with no ulterior motive. He wanted to be with
Edward because of Edward. Nothing else. While he didn’t yet have the grounds to act on his
impulses, he was comforted by the thought that their relationship was the good kind of
ambiguous.

They weren’t dating, but they weren’t not dating, either.

(***Intertwined***)

Alphonse liked to think the best of everyone.

He knew that there were terrible, awful people and horrible, scary things in the world. That
made it his job to think positively. The two most positive parts of his life were his brother and
his bondmate. They kept him happy and healthy.

So when Edward trudged into Dr. Fennimore’s classroom, Alphonse was torn between
feeling happy and guilty. On one hand, he loved any and all time spent with his brother. On
the other hand, Edward’s shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, and if not for Alphonse
asking him to attend class, he could be catching up on some much-needed rest.

Edward grunted out a tired, “Hey,” before taking the seat beside of Alphonse and leaning
back in his chair. He opened a book to a random page in the middle and laid it paper-side-
down over his face, no doubt intending to go to sleep.

His obvious lack of care gave Alphonse the sinking feeling that Edward attending class may
actually be worse than his perpetual ditching. Alphonse organized his desk in an attempt to
look even more attentive, silently hoping it would make up for Edward’s blatant disrespect.

Mustang didn’t look surprised to see Edward in class, but he made a quick swivel towards
their desk-cluster. He placed a roll of bandages on Edward’s desk. “I noticed you weren’t
wearing any.”

Edward didn’t bother to lift the book from his eyes. “They’re restricting.”

“That’s the point, Fullmetal.”

Edward grunted, apparently considering the conversation over.

“Brother. You promised you would take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine, Al. I’ll put them on later.”

“Later when?”

“Tonight.” Mustang was the one that answered, but Edward’s soft grunt was far from the
refusal it could have been. That was when Alphonse noticed the way Edward had failed to
tense up at Mustang’s approach.

If Edward were anyone else, Alphonse would have blamed it on their bond. Seeing as
Edward viewed his bond with Mustang as a traitorous, life-ruining thing, Alphonse knew
better. Something had happened between them.

Something Edward hadn’t told him about.

Alphonse knew his brother would never tell him everything—he was too obsessively
protective for that—but it did leave a strange ache in Alphonse’s chest to think Edward was
growing in a way that wouldn’t have them falling asleep to shared secrets.

Alphonse was saved from thinking about it by Dr. Fennimore entering the room. Mustang
took his seat as the professor cleared his throat. Fennimore was a visiting professor with a lot
of theories and only a few years of experience. Being shown up by Edward’s natural genius
every day was clearly a sore spot for him.

Edward had described him as a snarky asshole with a lot of confused theories and baseless
confidence. Alphonse hoped to find it was just a bad mix of personalities, but from what he
had seen in their initial meeting, he doubted it.

“My, my, Edward Elric actually showing up. To what do we owe this honor?”

“Felt like it.”

Dr. Fennimore frowned at Edward’s dull response but made no rebuttal.

Mere minutes into class, two things became apparent. One: Fennimore was trying to use
Alphonse to get back at Edward. Two: Edward was asleep. Edward didn’t snore, but his
breathing was deep and even in a way it never was when he was awake.

Not that Alphonse couldn’t handle himself, especially in academic situations. Edward’s
enemies attempting to take out their anger on Alphonse instead of the invincible Fullmetal
Alchemist was nothing new. He was just used to them doing it better.
Which wasn’t to say that Fennimore was stupid. He wasn’t. He just also wasn’t brilliant.

Back at Resembool’s academy, the professors had recognized Alphonse’s genius and pretty
much given him free reign. While he wasn’t a national hero like Edward, he was well-known
in academic circles for his papers (both the ones written by him and the ones written by
Edward but published under his name). As such, advice from him was nothing to scoff at.

That made the problems Fennimore was trying to trip him up with barely short of insulting.

Just looking over the side-notes scribbled on the edges of his brother’s actual notes made
Alphonse work harder than this. It was no wonder Edward never attended.

It wasn’t until forty-five minutes from the end of class that Fennimore pulled out what he
called “The Impossible Problem.” It was a circle that didn’t work despite being perfectly
balanced. He said anyone who could solve this problem would get an immediate A.

For the first time since stepping into the classroom, Alphonse felt challenged. The array was
technically correct, but there was also something inherently off about it. Alphonse tried to
ignore the way Fennimore stared at him while encouraging the rest of the class to once again
work on the problem. He tried not to be irritated over the blatant abuse of power.

He also tried not to dislike the confident, encouraging glance Mustang tossed him. Like he
knew Alphonse could do it. Like he didn’t hold Alphonse responsible for his forced bond.
Mustang was one of the few men who could make Alphonse feel like a child, and Alphonse
tried his best not to childishly resent him for it.

Instead of focusing on any of that, Alphonse stared at The Impossible Problem. It took thirty-
nine minutes and a dozen different sketched-out renderings before it finally clicked.

“It’s a transmutation circle.”

Fennimore offered a condescending smile along with a haughty, “We’re well aware of what
kind of circle it is.”

Alphonse shook his head, unbothered by his professor’s sour attitude now that he had the
answer. “No, that’s the issue. It’s structured to be a transmutation circle when it should be a
transformation circle. Remove the outer circle, change the Latin phrasing but not intent, and
re-examine each rune for viability. That should pretty well fix it.” Alphonse nodded, satisfied.

That satisfaction faltered when Fennimore’s smile widened. “Well, that’s certainly a creative
solution, but it’s hardly viable.” Alphonse frowned, and Fennimore added, “Don’t feel bad.
Even geniuses get stumped sometimes.”

“Brother?” Edward didn’t respond, so Alphonse none-too-gently nudged his side. “Brother,
wake up. I need you to tell me what’s wrong with the circle on the board.”

Edward groaned before tilting the book on his face upward to see the board. He looked at the
problem for all of three seconds before re-settling the book over his eyes. “Some stupid
fucker got mixed up and structured it like a transmutation array when it should be a
transformation array. Get rid of the outer circle, rephrase everything in Latin, and ditch the
runes to start again because they’re all shit for what you’re trying to do.”

“That’s what I thought!” Alphonse turned back to Fennimore with renewed confidence. He
could accept himself being wrong, but Edward?

It was laughable.

Fennimore turned back to the board with far less arrogance than before. He didn’t stare for
long. “Perhaps you’d like to come show us the correct version, if you’re so sure?”

“It might take me a bit to work out the right order, but—”

“I was speaking to Edward.”

Alphonse closed his mouth hard enough for his teeth to clack together, far from amused.

“No thanks.” Edward paused, yawning large enough to show off his canines. “Al can do it if
he wants.”

“Do you always get your little brother to fight your battles for you, Mr. Elric?”

“Sometimes. And you should watch out. He may not act like it, but the flashy temper is an
Elric thing.” The bell rang, and Edward finally removed the book from his face. “See you,
Doc.”

Alphonse was proud to stand and leave with his brother as an Elric. He was happy to feel his
hackles rising in response to Fennimore’s biases and pleased that the irritation beneath his
mild-mannered nature tied him to Edward.

“You okay there, Al?”

“Of course, Brother. Do I not look it?”

Edward shrugged. “You always look like you’re worrying yourself over something.”

“I’m not though. This is . . . nice. It’s nice being with you again.”

His brother tossed him an odd look, and Alphonse felt a tiny jolt of the same fear that had
filled him at the promotional ceremony. The fear of losing his brother. It was short and all-
consuming. He smiled to hide the underlying guilt and overlying fear, well-aware that
Edward could easily figure him out if he chose to pry.

“Yeah. It’s nice being with you, too.”

Alphonse bumped Edward’s shoulder with his bicep as he moved to walk a little closer. “I
brought some books for you to read.”

“Anything worthwhile?”
“Nothing on un-bonding Fire Cores, but there are some interesting mentions of the
philosopher’s stone. Old stories about a rock that lets you perform alchemy without
equivalent exchange.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Obviously, but that’s just about the only thing all the texts agree on.” Edward raised two
skeptic brows, and Alphonse quickly added, “None of the books went into detail on the
stone’s location or how to make it. It seems like a pretty outdated theory, so you might have
better luck with the untranslated Xerxecian texts.”

“You still can’t read Xerxecian?”

Alphonse fought back a blush as he turned from Edward’s teasing grin. “I’m good at a lot of
things, Brother. Languages aren’t one of them. You know that.”

Edward laughed, but it was half-hearted. The far-away look in his eyes said he was already
lost to his musings, and Alphonse knew better than to attempt re-igniting the conversation.
When they entered their next class, Alphonse was immediately swept into a strong hug. He
awkwardly patted large, muscular arms while watching Edward (the traitor) avoid a similar
fate and continue on to his seat as though he wasn’t abandoning his only blood relative.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Oh, my brilliant young friend! I am so incredibly happy to see you and have you in my
class. It will be the most wonderful of experiences to have not only one, but two Elrics
brightening each day.”

Alphonse felt his feet leave the floor as Alex swung him in happy, sparkling circles. By the
time his shoes reacquainted themselves with the floor, he was so dizzy that he barely
registered Alex’s shirt shredding from the strain of covering his overly-muscled torso.

“It’s uh, it’s good to see you, too. Thank you again for letting us join your class so late.”

“It is no problem. You and your bondmate are the embodiment of my course objective. In fact
. . .” Strong hands gripped Alphonse’s shoulders to turn him toward the rest of the class. “My
most wonderful and diligent of students, I would like to introduce you to the newest members
of our class. Please welcome Alphonse Elric and his bonded, Winry Rockbell.”

Alex held out a hand for Winry to stand and join them, but she (also a traitor) just waved.

Alex, ever the optimist, shouted, “Of course! You are too excited to learn for the detours of
introduction. How admirable. Nevertheless, my classroom is a family, and all members of a
family must be acquainted.”

Alphonse attempted to maneuver out of Alex’s hold so he could go to his seat, but all he
managed to do was get pulled into a one-armed hug.

“I first want to emphasize that I have not forgotten about our fallen family members. Sheska
and Envy will forever be a part of our beloved family, and we will treasure them and their
 memories as such.” Alex flexed with the arm not holding Alphonse as tears streamed down
his face. “Thankfully, Namae and Russell, our orphaned Activation and Energy Core holders,
have agreed to become a pair to complete the course. With a newly made pair and two true
bondmates joining us, we gather the courage to move forward.”

Alex spread his arms wide, glitter filling the air behind him. Alphonse took his freedom for
the opportunity it was and hurried to his seat.

Solaris propped her elbow on her desk, chin resting on her palm. “Are we not going to talk
about the other truly bonded pair in the room?”

She was no doubt hoping to draw negative attention to either Edward or Mustang, and
Alphonse hated himself for being thankful. His brother’s bond had been eating away at him
ever since asking Mustang to make it.

Alex held up placating hands. “Normally, I would be overjoyed to delve into the bonding
experiences of my beloved family. As this particular bond was formed under very special
circumstances, I believe it is best that we—”

“It’s fine.” Edward already had the Xerxecian book laid out on his desk. He didn’t bother
looking up as he said, “He isn’t the absolute worst kind of bastard.”

Mustang picked up from there with a too-charming smile. “Fullmetal is a good man, and
bonding was a small price to pay to save him. We aren’t sure how we plan on proceeding on a
personal level, but whatever we choose, I’m sure it will be amicable.”

Mustang’s addition was all politics and nothing of what Alphonse wanted to hear. Edward’s
response, however, was telling.

Alphonse knew his brother would rather be alive than dead—largely out of some twisted
sense of duty—but that go-to answer never shed any light on how he viewed the bond itself.
Because while Edward didn’t like lying, he would do it to protect Alphonse. That meant any
answer given directly to Alphonse could be false.

This though. This was out in the open. Edward had answered when he could’ve brushed it off
or redirected the conversation or just flat out ignored them, and that meant he was being
honest.

Edward didn’t hate Mustang.

Edward didn’t hate the bond.

So Alphonse could stop hating himself.

Chapter End Notes

I'm officially a published author! If you'd like to check my original works or sign up for
my newsletter, feel free to visit [Link]! Have a wonderful day!
 Chapter 26
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed had been keeping an eye on the aura-flow of Brad’s office ever since he turned Central
Command into a monument. Brad’s Core aura was a deep black, which made sense when
considering his soullessness. The people who most visited his office had dark green, sunny
yellow, and mossy green auras.

Ed was fairly certain the dark green aura belonged to Lust. The only thing he knew about the
other two was that they kept popping up where they weren’t wanted. The sunny yellow one,
for instance, had shown up around Greeling’s house. If it were just that disturbingly bright
aura and nothing else, maybe Ed could’ve brushed it off as surveillance. As it was, the aura’s
appearance came with an array.

The paint used for this particular array so closely matched the color of the porch that it was
nearly invisible. Dirt and leaves had been swept over it to further obscure its presence. Ed
hadn’t drawn attention to it when he saw it because he hadn’t known what to think. He hadn’t
known how to react.

Ed waited until a time when he knew Greeling wouldn’t be home and uncovered the array for
a better look. That better look burned the array into Ed’s mind. He tried to think of other
things, but his attention always circled back. All he could do was draw the array over and
over again in hopes that the next time he drew it, the result would be different.

It wasn’t, of course.

Instead of finding some fantastical new interpretation for the array, Ed just stared. He had
been staring for the past who knew how long and would continue to stare for the same
amount of time. He stared and he stared, then he stared some more.

The array was meant to create a chimera.

Ed hadn’t seen one in years, and looking at it now, he felt sick.

Creating chimeras didn’t just mesh bodies. It meshed souls. The stronger the soul was, the
longer it would take to integrate, but it would integrate. Then the new abomination of a soul
would attach itself to the Core (assuming the person used had a Core) and the deal would be
done.

Ed could handle all of that. What he wasn’t sure how to handle was its location.

Ed knew Greeling wasn’t behind this. Even without taking his trust in Greeling into account,
the man was too smart to make such a stupid slip-up. Besides, Greeling’s backyard was pretty
much for show. He never used it. He probably didn’t even know the array was there.
That could only mean Brad was already starting to target those closest to Ed, and Ed hadn’t
even done anything yet. Worse still, Greeling wasn’t like Mustang or his men. He didn’t have
a reason to get in Brad’s way other than Ed dragging him there. Ed hated himself for putting
his friends in danger, and he hated himself more for being unwilling to stop.

Protect his friends.

Protect the people.

Protect his friends.

Protect the people.

If he didn’t take Brad down soon, he would have to choose. If he waited too long, the choice
would cease to be his.

Al. Winry. Maes. Gracia. Elicia. Greeling. Namae. Elaine. Mustang.

Everyone else.

Ed stared unseeingly at the array in front of him and made useless attempts not to think about
it.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed rarely interacted with Gerard inside of class. Gerard didn’t mind because they interacted
outside of class. They trained together, and Ed spent hours on end bouncing ideas off of
Gerard, uncaring of Gerard’s inability to give any useful input whatsoever.

Ed was smart and snarky and had a laughably large hero complex. He had a genuinely
atrocious personality that he failed to hide despite being plenty smart enough to manipulate
those around him. He didn’t spare feelings. All he really cared about were his friends, his
family, and for whatever reason, Gerard.

Gerard knew these things to be true because above all else, Ed was honest.

So when Ed marched into class looking as pissed as Gerard had ever seen him, he was
positive he’d be hearing about who and why momentarily. What Gerard didn’t expect was for
either of those answers to be him.

“What the fuck, Greeling? You didn’t think I’d find out about this?” Ed’s hand slammed a
piece of paper on Gerard’s desk, but Gerard cared little to nothing for his theatrics. As angry
as Ed sounded, there was something off about him. About his eyes. “Of all the stupid fucking
stunts to pull, you’re messing with chimeras? They told me you were allied with Brad, but
did I listen? No. I fucking trusted you.”
Gerard narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. “You think I’m in leagues with Brad?”

“What am I supposed to think? I found this in your backyard.” Ed smacked the paper again.
“I stuck up for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Ed, I didn’t—”

“Fuck you, Greeling. I don’t want to hear your petty fucking excuses. I’m done being
manipulated, and I’m done with you. You come near me again and I swear to the Gate—” Ed
fisted a hand into Gerard’s fur vest and violently yanked Gerard close enough to whisper, “I
know you’re innocent. I trust you, and I need you to trust me back.”

He shoved Gerard just as violently back, then turned to take a seat on the other side of the
room. Namae, Alphonse, and Winry followed him without question. Martel took Ed’s vacated
seat. When Martel leaned over to get a better look at the paper Ed had oh-so-nicely delivered,
Gerard looked with her.

It was, in fact, an array. Gerard didn’t have enough experience with alchemy to say what kind
of array it was, but he could bet Ed hadn’t been lying about it being linked to chimeras.
Gerard flipped the paper just enough to see writing on the back, then laid it flat on the desk.
Solaris took the free seat on his other side a moment later.

“I see you and your pet had a falling out. Poor thing. Not that I didn’t see this little
catastrophe coming a kilometer away. He’s too good and you’re too you. Though I must say I
didn’t expect you to start working with Bradley behind my back. Naughty boy.”

“I’m not working with Brad.”

Solaris didn’t even pretend to be surprised. “No? That’s too bad. I was looking forward to
working with you again.”

Gerard gritted his teeth and held his temper very firmly in check as he tapped on the paper in
front of him. “Why was this outside of my house?”

“How should I know? You’re the one who put it there.” Solaris pulled away as Gerard turned
to her, no doubt sensing the danger in his demeanor. She continued with a faux-placating,
“And if you didn’t, there’s nothing to fear. After all, I hear the elder Elric’s got a
real knack for figuring out he’s being deceived.”

Solaris winked and stood, dragging a long fingernail across Gerard’s desk as she made her
way back to the seat beside Mustang. Instead of grabbing her and ending her sorry life where
it stood, Gerard folded the paper and stuffed it into his vest pocket for later examination.

Good things to those who wait.

Waiting, sadly, was a nightmare. He felt the note burning a hole in his pocket just as much as
he felt Ed’s dismissal of their relationship in the empty air around him. Ed’s whispered
assurance let Gerard know that he only wanted their images separated for the public, but to
what extent?
Was Gerard supposed to accept Brad’s proposal and spy for Ed? Were they to discontinue
their sparring sessions and only meet in back alleys to exchange information? It’d been
obvious for a while now that Gerard would end up being a major player for Ed’s side, but
he’d hardly thought he would be doing it from not-Ed’s-side.

It was smart. It was strategic. Gerard respected Ed’s ability to utilize him, even if he didn’t
like how. Or maybe it was less that he didn’t like how and more that he didn’t like his
obnoxiously idealistic view of Ed being tarnished by human nature.

Either way, it set Gerard’s teeth on edge.

When Gerard got home, he searched for the array. Once he was actually looking for it, he
berated himself for not spotting it sooner. It was painted a shade of brown barely darker than
the wood of his porch, and it was covered with dirt and leaves.

It was a trap.

Whether it was intended for actual use or had already served its purpose by being seen by Ed,
Gerard didn’t know. What he did know was that people had been to his home, invaded his
personal space, and he wanted them dead.

“Roa!” Roa appeared seconds later, and Gerard kicked the array as he said, “Clean this up. I
want the house on lock down and someone on guard twenty-four-seven. Got it?”

“Of course.”

Gerard didn’t look at Roa as he stormed inside and up to his room. He didn’t open Ed’s note
again until the door was shut behind him, and even then, it was only after checking the
shadows for signs of Selim. On the front of the paper was the same array he now knew was
painted on his back porch. On the back, however, was handwriting so bad it could only have
been written by Ed.

This is on your back porch. I don’t think Brad would use it on you, but that doesn’t mean
anything for your crew. If he’s already targeting you, this might be too late, but here’s to
hoping it’s not. I’m about to do something that’ll really fuck with Brad. He’s going to come
after me hard and fast, and no one siding with me is safe. If you really want to get out of
Brad’s crosshairs, now’s your chance.

I don’t really care what you think of me, but I’m your friend. I don’t want you to die.

Stay Safe.

Gerard read the note once, twice, then a third time. Every reading had him zeroing in
on, “I’m your friend. I don’t want you to die.” His grip on the note tightened until he had to
put it down for fear of tearing it.

Ed not only didn’t want anything from him, he preferred keeping Gerard safe to making use
of his talents. He cared for Gerard’s safety more than his own goals. More than his own life,
considering he was facing Brad.
Gerard ground his teeth as he tried to comprehend someone showering him with no-strings-
attached kindness even after knowing him for who he really was. He tried to understand
offering himself to someone who could really, genuinely use him only to be turned away
because they cared about him too much.

Gerard didn’t need protection, yet Ed was offering it. Gerard didn’t ask for friendship, yet Ed
was giving it. Gerard didn’t do anything that wasn’t in his own self-interest, yet all Ed wanted
from Gerard was to stay safe. Gerard didn’t know what it was he felt brewing in his
chest (anger-fondness-hatred-gratitude-greed), but it was overwhelming.

Was this what it felt like to be loved?

Gerard flattened the paper and placed a book over it in an attempt to get rid of the crinkles
from his earlier folding.

No matter who it was that physically painted the array on his porch, Brad was behind it. And
yes, maybe it was Gerard’s fault for assuming that Roa or Martel had brought a date home
when he felt his Core twinge the wrong way, but it was Brad’s fault for fucking with him in
the first place.

Brad was the one driving a wedge between him and Ed. Brad was the one threatening to take
away not only Ed but the rest of Gerard’s makeshift family, too. Brad was the one who was
so desperate to maintain his legacy that he was willing to ruin everything for everyone else to
get it.

He had used Envy, was using Solaris (who was no doubt using Gordon), and was likely
trying to find leverage to use Trisha. This (ruining Gerard’s relationship with Ed) was Brad’s
way of reeling him in, too.

Well, fine. If Brad wanted to get the family together so badly, who was Gerard to stand in his
way?

Decision made, Gerard grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He drove to Brad’s house,
which was as gaudy and tastelessly decorated as ever, and stopped at the park across the
street. He turned off his car and waited for the tell-tale red eyes in the shadows.

It was nearly impossible to predict where and when Selim would be looking, but he did
perimeter checks three times a day. While Gerard didn’t know the exact timing, he was
patient. He could wait. It took nearly two hours, but when large red eyes finally appeared,
Gerard grinned and crooked a finger towards himself.

Selim took all of seven minutes to get from his room to Gerard’s car. By then, Gerard had
already re-started the engine.

Selim stopped at the driver’s side window, unamused. “Uncle Gerard.”

“Get in.”

“Why?”
Gerard’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he glanced at the big ugly house behind
Selim. “You really want to talk about this with daddy looking over your shoulder?” Selim’s
creepy-as-hell blank expression didn’t change, but he did walk around and get in the car. As
soon as they were a full half-city from Brad’s place, Gerard dove in. “Word on the street is
that you and Brad aren’t getting along so well anymore. He’s too old, you’re too young, and
that inter-generational gap is just too much to overcome. Any truth to that?”

“You’re far from amusing, Uncle Gerard.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So assuming you’re ready to spread your wings and Brad’s too
egotistical to let that happen, what do you say we take him out?”

Selim dropped the disinterested pretense and twisted in his seat to fully face Gerard. “Take
him out?”

“Kill him.”

Selim stared at Gerard expectantly, but Gerard kept his eyes ahead and demeanor aloof. This
was hardly the first time he’d enticed one of his ridiculously vain family members into doing
what he wanted, and there was no way Selim would be the one to out-maneuver him.

Selim’s frown said he knew that, too. “You and Father have been at odds since long before I
was born. Why move now?”

“Because he stayed out of my way before this. Now your old man is stepping on my toes, and
he doesn’t seem keen on stopping. I figure this way we can both get what we want.”

“And what is it, pray tell, that I want?”

Gerard scoffed. “You’re a riot when you play coy. You know that?”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” Gerard glanced at Selim out of the corner of his eyes just to see the fury burning
behind the childish façade. “You forget that Brad was the head of my household, too. I know
firsthand what a self-centered, controlling, micro-managing asshat he can be. I also know
you’re plenty old enough to be out causing your own brand of chaos and that he’s keeping
you locked away because it looks better for his image if he’s a family man.”

Gerard watched Selim glare for an entire ninety seconds. Finally, Selim gave a little.
“Suppose Father does have an unfortunate accident. What happens to me then? Mother will
hardly just let me go.”

“Kill her, too.”

“So . . . what? I can go to an orphanage? I believe I’m better off where I’m at.”

“I’ll adopt you.”

“And then what?”

“What?”

Selim half-sighed, half-growled, already fed up with the slow pace of their dance. “You
would be my legal guardian. What, exactly, would you do with me?”

Gerard huffed out a laugh, grin showing teeth. “Do I look like a fucking dad to you? I’d turn
you loose, and you can go do whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to bail you out when
you get into trouble.”

Selim leaned back in his seat and examined Gerard. The brat could be brash and greedy, but
he wasn’t stupid. Murdering his father the Führer wasn’t something he could agree to on a
whim. That being said, Selim was his father’s son, and that made arrogance an inescapable
trait. He believed he could gain control of the situation, whatever the situation was. He
assumed that if he watched Gerard carefully enough—if he planned well enough—he could
gain the upper hand.

That assumption was based on the misconception that Gerard actually cared whether or not
Selim sided with him.

The kid could be a useful ally, and the look on Brad’s face after being betrayed by his
progeny would be priceless, but it wasn’t a make-or-break situation. The point of this meeting
wasn’t to gain a new pawn but to plant the seed of possibilities.

If Selim agreed, he was an incredible spy with no moral compass. If Selim declined, he
would keep the plan in the back of his mind, ready to switch sides at a moment’s notice. And
even if the improbable happened and Selim told Brad that Gerard planned to kill him, it
would do no good. Gerard always planned to kill him. He just didn’t always feel like acting
on it.

“I find your proposal interesting.”

“That’s because it’s interesting.”

“But I’ll need more time to think.”

“Obviously.”

Deciding their conversation was over, Gerard sped up and rounded the last few corners to get
Selim home. Selim reached for the handle as the car slowed to a halt but didn’t open the door.
“Tell me, Uncle. What is it Father has done to finally push you over the edge?”

“He’s trying to take what’s mine. I don’t appreciate it.” Gerard flashed a malicious grin that
showed just how much he didn’t appreciate it, and Selim got out of the car. He, unlike his
father, had a proper understanding of a situation being “too dangerous.”

“Take care, Uncle Gerard.”

“Just think about it, Selim. And remember: The Pride goeth before the fall.”
 (***Intertwined***)

Kain’s father was a loving man with a kind heart. He did everything in his power to make
sure Kain never wanted for anything, even without the help of a second parent. He
encouraged Kain’s interests, sympathized with Kain’s distresses, and assured Kain that God
had a plan for everyone. As long as he kept his faith, he would be taken care of.

When Kain’s father died and Kain was forced to join the military to pay for his schooling, his
faith wavered. When both his classmates and squad-mates ostracized him for his perceived
femininity and odd mannerisms, his faith flickered. When Kain accidentally intercepted a
message to the Führer’s inner circle outlining corrupt plans for a corrupt system, his faith
dampened to near nothing.

Roy Mustang was the oxygen his faith needed to flare back to life.

Mustang saw Kain’s knack for electronics and communications as an indispensable asset, and
he personally recruited Kain for his unit. Kain didn’t have high hopes for the transfer, but
Mustang was the first person to show him genuine kindness and encouragement since his
father’s death. Luckily, reality far exceeded Kain’s expectations.

Looking back, Kain understood that Mustang’s personal approach had probably been a
carefully considered manipulation. Kain had needed something to believe in, and Mustang
provided. That didn’t change the fact that within Mustang’s unit, Kain found his safe haven.

Aside from Mustang and Hawkeye, everyone in the unit was an outcast just like Kain. Maybe
they didn’t look it or even act it, but they definitely felt it. Havoc and Breda hid it best—
Havoc by laughing off his hard work and dedication, and Breda by disguising his intelligence
beneath an underachieving delinquent façade—but they still felt the constricting expectations
of unforgiving societal constructs. They still had to fake it to fit in.

Mustang’s unit was where Kain found true friends and finally understood his father’s
insistence on following his dreams. Mustang gave him purpose beyond survival and a goal he
could believe in. With Mustang’s confidence, intelligence, and cunning lighting the way,
Kain regained the belief that he could genuinely help his ailing country become something
better.

Within that, Kain also regained his faith in a higher power and the ultimate plan that came
with it. If not for the years of neglect and depression, Kain may never have stumbled into
Mustang’s path or been invited to join his new family. Even if he didn’t like all of the twists
and turns life took, he felt secure in the knowledge that everything happened for a reason.

That security, however, was not something he could easily share.

If it were shareable, Kain could do something other than watch Falman fall apart under the
guilt of getting in Fullmetal’s way at the ceremony. He could assure Falman there was more
at work than just bad luck and ease the otherwise unshakeable shame of being the one to
inadvertently force Mustang and Fullmetal to bond. As much as Kain cared about the entire
unit, Falman was the one he most related to and thereby most empathized with. When
Falman hurt, Kain hurt, too.

So despite Falman shuffling papers and getting coffee around the time everyone arrived at
work, Kain saw the wrinkled uniform and tiredness that came with sleeping at a desk. He saw
a normally comfortable stance hunched by self-depreciation. He watched gentle, intelligent
eyes darken from doubt and desperation, and he could do nothing about it.

They all invited Falman out after work. They assured him of his innocence. They offered to
help. They also pretended to believe him when he said he’d be leaving in a few minutes.
When even Hawkeye told Falman to take a break, Kain knew they had let it go too far. He
just equally didn’t know what to do about it.

“— stupid god-fucking . . . Leave me alone!”

The office door slammed open and just as quickly slammed closed, leaving room for only
Fullmetal to slip inside. The anger Fullmetal held for whatever reporter had followed him
inside (likely the Earth Alchemist, as all others would have been stopped by security)
vanished almost before he finished turning around.

Fullmetal scanned the room and rubbed the base of his neck, appearing only offhandedly
apologetic. “Sorry about that, I—”

Wood clattered against tile as Falman stood, chair scraping the floor and long legs bumping
the desk. He threw up a hasty salute.

Fullmetal furrowed his brows. “I don’t know what Mustang told you, but you can drop the
formalities. I’m not really into the whole military official thing.” He took a few steps closer
to Falman, who hesitantly lowered his salute. “Bastard told me you were alright, but it’s good
to see it for myself. I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you for a while, but time
management’s never really been my thing.” Fullmetal shrugged like it was a foregone
conclusion.

Falman pointed at himself. “To me?”

“Yeah. I wanted to thank you. You really saved my ass back there.”

Falman’s eyes widened. “I did?”

“Yeah. I never would’ve been able to get back and undo my boxes in time. Without you there,
I doubt I would’ve made it. So thanks.”

Kain watched as Fullmetal closed the distance to Falman’s desk, hoping against all odds that
this could be what snapped Falman out of his spiral. Unfortunately, Fullmetal got distracted
from whatever he intended to say by the map on Falman’s desk.

“What’s this?” Fullmetal tapped the paper twice. Kain tried his hardest to pretend he wasn’t
watching as the sudden change in topic only served to fluster Falman further.
“It’s, uh, it’s a map of everything I think the Führer might’ve had his hands in over the past
few years. I haven’t exactly finished it yet, and I can’t say for sure if it’ll lead to anything, but
I needed something to focus on. A—a way to help.”

Fullmetal picked the map up, and Kain saw hundreds of red dots forming seemingly random
lines and figures within a near-perfect circle around Central. Amber eyes stared hard at the
paper, analyzing it like the seemingly random clusters of incidents scratched at something
just beyond his understanding.

Kain felt sorry for Falman as Fullmetal seemed to forget that they were in the middle of a
conversation, completely content to stare at the map. After a few minutes, Falman tried to re-
initiate.

“It’s—it’s slow-going. It was the first thing I could think of that, uh, that might lead . . .
somewhere.” Falman whispered somewhere with a hopeless breath. “If you think there’s a
better path to take—”

“No. No, this is good. You’re onto something. Actually, can you go back further? Like, way
further. And wider, too. If you could do this back to five or six years before the Ishval Civil
war started and spread it out over all of Amestris, I think we could really have something.”
Fullmetal held the paper closer to his face before flattening it back out on the desk, likely
hoping a change in perspective would help him figure it out.

Falman re-drew Fullmetal’s attention by asking, “You could do this yourself, couldn’t you?”

“Probably. Do you think it’ll take too much time to do alone?”

“No. No, it’s just that I . . .” Falman glanced around the room, and Kain offered a discreet,
encouraging nod when their eyes met. Falman hesitated, straightened his posture, and
focused back in on Fullmetal. “You’re smarter than I am. Aren’t you?”

Fullmetal scrunched his nose and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. What’s it matter?”

And just like that, Falman’s dam of emotions broke. He took a firm step forward and did
something Kain never once expected of him.

He yelled.

“Because I almost got you killed! Because I—I made it worse. I distracted you and then I just
ran. I ran and left you to deal with the chimeras on your own. And if I could—could
contribute to this fight against the Führer in ways you couldn’t, then I could maybe—maybe
—start to feel okay about what happened, but you’re smarter than me! You can do everything
I can do, only faster.”

Fullmetal jerked both hands up in a peacekeeping motion, more dumbfounded than upset.
“Woah there. The hell are you talking about? You got the chimeras to separate—they’re a
fuck ton worse in a pack, trust me—and got Al the info he needed. You played to your
strengths. That’s all anyone can do.”
 Falman threw his hands up, for once uncaring of the scene he was making. Kain felt his heart
break as Falman shouted, “Maybe I don’t want my strengths to be running away!”

Kain clenched his fist in his lap, wishing for all the world that he could just reach out and
comfort.

Fullmetal had no such sympathies. “If you honestly think that you sticking around unarmed
would have made you less of a distraction, then Mustang’s giving you way more credit than
you deserve. I mean, do you think anyone else would’ve been okay out there with me?”

“Mustang would’ve—”

“Mustang’s an alchemist who’s pretty much trash without his gloves. Now, you look around
this room and tell me who here is useful without a gun.” Fullmetal didn’t wait for Falman to
respond. “Exactly. So shut up and focus on what you can do instead of what you want to do.”

“What if you had died for me?”

“Then I’d be dead, and you’d still be working on this geographic profile. And that’s what
matters. Because right now we’re chasing our tails trying to catch up with Brad’s agenda, and
the only shadow of a lead I’ve seen is right here.” Fullmetal splayed his hand on the map. “I
may be capable of doing your job, but we don’t think the same. Backtracking what Brad has
done geographically to figure out what he’ll do next is the last thing that would have occurred
to me. So don’t give me that bullshit about me being worth more than you or whatever the
fuck else you’re thinking. I’ve got your back, and I’m glad you’ve got mine. So stop wasting
energy whining over what we can’t change and focus on what we’re about to do: Kick Brad’s
ass. Sound good?”

Falman stared disbelievingly at Fullmetal. The weight of the world on his shoulders. The
weight of the past on his heart. He inhaled, breath shuddering, and the tension dropped from
him in a splash. Kain breathed a sigh of relief as Fullmetal held out a hand for Falman to
shake.

Falman stared for a long minute, like he wasn’t quite sure he was really allowed to accept.
When he finally reached out, his hand trembled. Fullmetal closed the distance with a
confidence as bright and purposeful as Mustang’s. Even from across the room, Kain could
see the way Falman’s all-consuming guilt crumbled to make room for Fullmetal’s easy
acceptance. If Fullmetal asked Falman to do anything—anything at all—

“It’ll be an honor.”

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 27
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Jean liked to think he was brave.

Not that he jumped into burning buildings to save orphans on a regular basis or anything. He
just also didn’t run away from things that needed facing. At least, that was what he thought
before watching Falman make himself genuinely vulnerable.

Jean didn’t run from a lot, but he also didn’t seek out things that made him uncomfortable.
He didn’t face his fears without necessity. He didn’t confront the issues he felt embarrassed
or ashamed about, and in that, he was a coward. While he didn’t mind being average or
failing sometimes or even being the butt of most jokes at the office, he did mind being a
coward.

Jean discreetly watched Falman and Fullmetal pour over a map for almost forty-five minutes
before deciding (a) he wanted to be as brave as Falman, (b) he really did need advice, and
most importantly, (c) he was willing to risk Hawkeye’s wrath for it. He scooted his chair back
before he could change his mind, lit another cigarette to procrastinate just a second longer,
and cleared his throat.

Fullmetal was the only one who didn’t look up.

After a moment, Falman caught on to who Jean actually wanted to talk to and got Fullmetal’s
attention. Once he had the entire room staring him down, Jean cleared his throat again. For
real this time.

“There’s a, uh, there’s a thing coming up, and I’m looking for a date.”

Fullmetal stared at him with an unsure, where-are-you-going-with-this expression.

Heat rushed to Jean’s cheeks, and he overcorrected, “Shit, no! I didn’t mean you. I like
chicks. Women all the way. Not that there’s anything wrong with liking guys, but—let me
start over. I can’t get a date, and you’re popular. How do you do it?”

Jean saw Breda’s mocking grin and Fuery’s humorous smile. He watched Falman’s lips
twitch up (though that was more of a victory considering the last few days) and Hawkeye’s
unamused stare. He knew they’d heard him pining and joking a million and a half times
before. He knew they thought this was a joke, too. Every time Jean brought it up with
Mustang, that was how he treated it.

In reality, he was lonely. He wanted someone to take on dates while dreaming of building a
future together. He wanted someone to dote on. He wanted someone who loved him.

Or even just liked him a little.

So this time Jean pushed past the embarrassment burning in his chest—the urge to laugh it off
as something he didn’t actually care about—and focused seriously on Fullmetal. In turn,
Fullmetal leaned back in his chair, much more at ease now that Jean had explained better.

“I don’t really do anything. Hell, the only person I’ve even sort-of dated is Mustang, and
we’re pretty fucked up.”

Jean sputtered at the thought of the boss man being Fullmetal’s only significant other ever.
“Seriously? But you could get anyone.”

“I don’t really want anyone. Who is it you’re trying to date?”

Jean didn’t miss the irony as he responded, “Anyone. I just, I can’t get a date. I can’t. It
doesn’t matter what I do. No woman will go out with me. And I’ve tried. Believe me,
I’ve tried.”

Fullmetal grimaced, sighed, then said, “You sure you don’t want to ask someone else about
this stuff?”

“Positive.”

Fullmetal glanced around the room, causing everyone other than Hawkeye to pretend to do
work. “Okay then . . . Shit. I don’t know. What kind of women do you go for?”

“I dunno. Pretty women.”

“What do you talk about?”

It dawned on Jean that Fullmetal was actually listening to him, and that gave him confidence
he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. He leaned eagerly forward, uncaring of the way
Hawkeye’s gun cocked.

“Depends on the chick. I always try and talk about things they like. Like flowers or their hair
or stuff like that. But be tough about it, you know? Women like guys who appreciate girly
stuff while still being manly enough to rough up anyone who looks at them wrong.” Jean
blushed as he further admitted, “I uh, I always try and do what I think the boss man would
do.”

It was endlessly embarrassing, but as someone who was kind-of-sort-of dating Mustang, Jean
figured Fullmetal would understand.

He was wrong.

Fullmetal snorted, a mocking grin stretching his lips. “Well, there’s your fucking problem.
Mustang’s an ass, and all acting like him will do is get you dumped.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. Have you ever seen him in a serious relationship? Like, ever? No. Because
Mustang can get a date just fine, but he can’t keep one. The bastard’s pretty much incapable
of forming meaningful relationships. So start with ditching the Imitate-Mustang plan. You
said you talk to them about flowers and shit. Do you like that?”

“Not really.”

“Then why talk about it?”

“I dunno. ‘Cause that’s what women like.”

Fullmetal rolled his eyes. “Says who? Mustang? How about the next time you ask someone
out, you find something you have in common? Something you both like talking about. Maybe
a hobby.”

“Do women like talking about hobbies?”

Fullmetal shrugged. “Fuck if I know. But people come up to me all the time wanting to talk
about chimeras and automail and the military, and I hate literally all that shit. It’s depressing,
boring, or both. I assume a lot of women think the same thing about flowers in their hair or
whatever. So . . . Yeah, talk about hobbies.”

Jean groaned. “I don’t have any hobbies. All I do is work, and I can’t talk about that with
civilians.”

Golden eyes scanned the room before Fullmetal jabbed his thumb in Hawkeye’s direction and
asked, “What about her?”

Jean nearly choked on his cigarette. “Hawkeye?”

“Yeah. She works with you, so she’d be able to talk about work, and she’s crazy pretty. Why
not?”

Hawkeye’s pistol un-cocked, and Jean very suddenly regretted the entire conversation.
“Because she—she’s—Hawkeye is—She’s Hawkeye!”

“So?”

“So I . . . we can’t . . . She’s Hawkeye.”

Jean stressed Hawkeye’s name until it was nearly a whine, but Fullmetal didn’t seem to care.
“Yeah, I got that much. Why’s she not an option?”

With that single, horrifying question in the open, Hawkeye put her gun away and the rest of
the office stopped pretending to work.

Jean turned his attention to an incredibly interesting smudge on the floor. “Because she’s, you
know . . . Hawkeye. She’s smart and strong and, yeah, crazy pretty. Only the boss man can
get women like that.”

Fullmetal and Hawkeye exchanged a mortifying glance.

“That’s dumb. What do you think women are? Stuff you get at the grocery store? There aren’t
top-shelf women and low-shelf women. There are just women. If you want to ask out
someone like Hawkeye, just do it. Like . . .” Fullmetal turned to face Hawkeye. “What do
you like to do for fun?”

“I enjoy going to the shooting range.”

“That’s awesome. I’ve never actually shot a gun before. Any chance you’d like to teach me?”

Hawkeye’s small, amused smile widened. “I think that would be lovely.”

Fullmetal turned back to Jean as though he hadn’t performed a miracle. “Right. So then you
set a date and time and whatever, but it won’t work unless you actually want to do it. Any
relationship built on pretending to care is guaranteed to flop. Romantic or not. It’s not about
impressing her. It’s about actually liking each other. You should stop looking for just any
woman and start looking for one you’d actually want to spend time with. That’s what I’d do
anyway.”

Jean sucked on his cigarette as he tried to figure out the least embarrassing way to say that
not everyone had balls of steel and that it wasn’t reasonable to expect normal men like Jean
to put themselves out there so carelessly. It ended up not mattering as Mustang terminated the
conversation by entering the office. Mustang’s focus immediately zoned in on Fullmetal, who
glared back.

“Fullmetal! Exactly the man I wanted to see.”

“Can’t say I feel the same.”

Mustang continued as though Fullmetal had complimented him. “There’s a military

appreciation dinner on Saturday—”

“Not interested.”

“— that your family has expressed an interest in attending.”

“Fucking seriously, Mustang? Didn’t you learn your lesson after the ball?”

Mustang painted on a patronizingly apologetic frown. “Calm down, Edward. I didn’t invite
them. Alphonse found the invitation in your mail and asked me if non-military personnel
could attend. They’d quite like a night out.”

“Yeah? And how’d Al get my mail?”

Mustang waved a dismissive hand. “I gave it to him.”

“Fucking bastard—”

“As I said, they seem very interested in attending.”

Fullmetal scoffed. “Yeah? Well, they can go alone.”

“They can’t, actually. You have a plus one, and you have to be there to use it.”

“So what? I go with you, and they can use our plus ones?”

“That’s certainly an option. I would be proud to have you as my date.”

Fullmetal flipped up his middle finger. “Fuck off. I’m not going to some dinner celebrating
the military, and I’m definitely not going as your arm-candy. Can’t you just pull strings to get
a couple extra tickets or something?”

Mustang’s polite smile widened into a cat-got-the-canary grin. Jean’s mouth opened in a
soundless realization of this being what Mustang had been gunning for all along.

“Of course I can. And if it makes you happy, I’ll gladly offer my assistance.”

Fullmetal sneered, no doubt irritated with himself for playing so easily into Mustang’s hand.
“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing much. We all abide by the laws of equivalent exchange here, and since it’s such a
small favor, I’ll only ask a small favor in return.”

“Get to the point, Mustang.”

To his credit, Mustang didn’t falter at Fullmetal’s harsh dismissal of his charms. “I have a lot
of romantic acquaintances—”

“Fuck buddies.”

“— that don’t exactly agree with my decision to bond. Some of them are fairly certain you
and I aren’t actually in a relationship.”

“We aren’t.”

“Yes. I’m aware of that, and you’re aware of that, but I would appreciate it very much if Lina
Damascus believed otherwise.”

“What’s so special about her?”

“She’s”—Mustang made a vague gesture with his hand as he searched for the right word
—“exuberant.”

Fullmetal leaned more towards Jean and said, “See what I mean? The kind of women
Mustang attracts are exuberant.”

Mustang glanced at Jean in a way that said he’d be reliving their humiliating conversation as
soon as Fullmetal left. Before that, however, Jean was determined to enjoy the sight of the
irresistible Roy Mustang getting brutally shot down.

“So just to be clear: I convince the crazy that we’re together and you get the tickets for Al
and Win?”
Mustang nodded.

“Alright. When?”

“She’s making her way through security right now.”

“The fuck—”

As if on cue, the door opened to reveal a beautiful brunette with a small waist, large breasts, a
perfect ass, and endless legs shown off by a miniskirt. She very may well have been one of
the most beautiful women Jean had ever seen.

She didn’t even glance in his direction.

“Roy! I . . . Oh. I see what’s going on here.”

“Lina. It’s wonderful to see you again. I don’t believe you’ve met my bondmate, Edward.”

Mustang walked the few meters to stand behind Fullmetal’s chair, and Lina walked with him.
She was almost heartbreakingly graceful in her incredibly high heels, making Jean wish not
for the first time that he had even an ounce of Mustang’s charms.

“You’re right. I haven’t. But I don’t think I need to, either. After all, looking at him now I can
see he’s just a child. I doubt he’ll be able to hold your attention for long after this whole
bonding ordeal settles.” She turned to Fullmetal with a viciously sweet smile that somehow
ruined her otherwise gorgeous face. “Have your fun, but never forget that Roy is mine.”

She spoke to Fullmetal like he was actually a little kid. In response, Fullmetal reached up,
fisted his hand in Mustang’s uniform jacket, and yanked the Colonel down for a kiss.
Mustang only had a second to look surprised before he got lost in it.

The kiss didn’t look comfortable. Mustang was completely bent over while Fullmetal’s neck
was cricked backwards over the chair. Their lips looked practically smushed together. That
being said, when Fullmetal carelessly shoved Mustang back to a standing position, the
Colonel looked nothing short of dazed.

Fullmetal adopted a mockingly apologetic expression. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. From that angle it
looked like he was mine.”

“You . . . I hope you don’t think that means anything. He only looks at you like that because
you’re in the beginning stages of bonding. The second you stop standing guard outside his
office like a stray dog—the second I get a moment alone with him—he’ll forget all about
you.”

“Be my guest. His office is right over there.” Fullmetal pointed to Mustang’s office, with its
closed blinds and heavy wooden door, without hesitation or care.

Lina’s confidence faltered.

She recovered by upping her condescension and saying, “You would really trust Roy
Mustang alone with me? Behind closed doors where we could do anything? Where I would
encourage him to do anything.”

Fullmetal didn’t answer right away, instead choosing to give her a long, slow once-over. His
penetrating stare was as confident as it was intensive, and it made Jean want to fidget just
thinking about being on the other end. Fullmetal’s examination went on long enough that
Lina actually tugged on the hem of her skirt, insecurity blossoming.

When he finally finished his scrutiny, his lips stretched in a markedly patronizing grin. “Oh
yeah.”

Lina’s cheeks flushed with humiliation. Ocean blue eyes shot to Mustang, basically pleading
for him to take Fullmetal’s offer and ensconce with her into his office. Mustang responded
with a politely apologetic smile.

When the Colonel failed to give in and run away with her, Fullmetal returned to the map. He
added another red dot and, as though that wasn’t enough of a dismissal, blandly tacked on,
“Activation Cores stabilize within two weeks of bonding. Feel free to check back then.”

Tears glittered in her eyes (still so pretty) and she hurried out of the room.

“You’re a lifesaver, Fullmetal.”

“Yeah, and you’re a pompous ass who owes Al some tickets to a fancy dinner.”

Fullmetal didn’t bother to look up and see the way Mustang was staring at him, and that was
what convinced Jean that the blonde was right. Because Jean didn’t want someone who
would only like him in the limelight. He wanted someone who would look at him like he
hung the stars even when he wasn’t looking back.

(***Intertwined***)

Core Energy Evaluations, like all other military functions, had a dress code. That code was a
pair of military issue cargo pants, combat boots, and an Amestris Blue T-shirt.

Roy adhered to the dress code.

Edward did not.

Roy assumed Edward’s lack of conformity was a given, but the proctor (the same man who
had initially interrogated Edward after the memorial stunt) appeared surprised.

“You’re out of uniform.”

“There was a uniform? Whoops.”

“There are spares in the storage room. Change.”

“Those are probably dirty.”

“They’re cleaned weekly.”

“There are none in my size.”

“We stocked your size last night, just in case.”

“I’m allergic.”

The proctor growled, “To what?”

“I dunno, but I am.” Fullmetal shrugged unapologetically. “So we ready to go or what?

Because I don’t know about you, but I’ve got other things to do.”

Edward jabbed a thumb toward the obstacle course, which was blocked off to the public aside
from approved spectators. The proctor’s fist clenched around his clipboard, and despite their
differences, Roy felt sorry for him. Trying to force an Elric to do something was about as
productive as washing mud.

The proctor saved himself a world of frustrations by ignoring Edward’s dress code violations
and moving on. “The obstacle course has seven stages. The first stage is a run. The second
stage is jumping hurdles. The third stage requires you to climb a ten-meter rock wall up to a
small platform, then back down the other side. Below the platform on the second side is a
pool filled with freezing water. There are posts in the water for you to jump across, which
acts as the fourth stage.

“The fifth stage is a mud crawl with barbed wire above you. The sixth stage is a free hanging
rope. Ring the bell at the top. The seventh stage is another run. If you can’t do any part of the
course, you can skip it, but we’ll add two minutes to your time. State Alchemists are required
to complete the course within twenty minutes, though the average time is twelve. Any
questions?”

Both Roy and Fullmetal shook their heads, so the proctor led them to the obstacle course.
Fullmetal split off to go stand with Maes, Winry, and Alphonse in the observation area. Roy
walked over to the starting line and awaited the signal. With how often he used this course to
distract himself from his nightmares, he could probably do it in his sleep.

When the shot went off, so did Roy. He ran swiftly, leapt gracefully, and climbed effortlessly.
He hardly had to look to know which hand and foot-holds to use. Balancing across the poles
was easy, and he managed to go through the mud crawl without getting anything in his hair.
The free-hanging rope was the hardest part, but it always was. He discarded mud-wet gloves
to allow for a better grip and got to climbing. The bell sounded like victory. He only climbed
halfway back down before dropping and running to the finish line.

The proctor hit the stopwatch. “Six minutes, thirty-seven seconds.”

Twenty seconds better than his record. Not bad.

The proctor nodded to Roy, likely having expected those results, before motioning Edward
over. Fullmetal held up a hand as if tag-teaming Roy out. Roy met the hand with a
solid clap and made his way to the observation area.

Maes awaited him with a towel and bottled water. “You beat your record.”

“I noticed.”

Edward stood at the starting line, his obnoxiously red cloak replaced with a white-trimmed
black jacket. The starting shot went off, and Edward walked casually to the hurdles. He
hopped up onto the thin metal of the first hurdle, arms out to the side for balance.

Winry leaned forward, as though being closer would somehow make Edward’s actions less
baffling. “What is that bonehead doing?”

Fullmetal proceeded to leap from hurdle to hurdle, knocking down almost every one of them
in the process. It was in glancing at the proctor that Roy found the answer.

Fullmetal was pissing them off.

Edward moved off to the side when he got to the climbing wall. For a second, Roy thought he
was going to walk around. Then the blonde ran forward and used a nearby tree to parkour his
way up. When Edward reached the top, he leaned over the opposite edge of the platform. Roy
sighed through his nose, vainly hoping Edward wasn’t about to do what he looked like he
was about to do. The water was deep enough for a dive in case someone fell, but it was below
freezing. Choosing to jump would be nothing short of stupid.

Edward backed up, took three strides across the platform, and dove.

He was surprisingly graceful in the air, twisting his body and doing two full flips before
entering the water.

Maes whistled. “I didn’t know he could dive.”

Alphonse stared at the water with a frown that reflected Roy’s. “Brother likes to work as
much of his body as he can in as short a time as he can. Diving and climbing are easy ways to
do that.” The next few seconds passed in silence, each one tenser than the last. At the minute
mark, Alphonse shouted, “He isn’t coming up! Go help him!”

The proctor held up a hand to the unsure medic, delaying medical intervention another full
thirty seconds before waving them on.

That was when Fullmetal resurfaced.

He gasped for air at the wall on the other end on the pool, using a single motion to lift
himself out and break into a sprint. Roy’s first thought was that Fullmetal intended to jump
across the posts that held the barbed wire over the mud. Then he noticed Edward’s speed and
trajectory.
No sooner than Roy figured it out, Edward tipped backwards. He used his speed and the
combined slickness of his wet clothes and the mud to slide beneath the barbed wire, clear
across the pit. He ran to the rope, picked up a rock, and threw it at the bell. When the bell
clanged, he grabbed Roy’s discarded gloves and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He walked
the rest of the way to the finish line.

“What’s my time?”

“Do it again.”

“Nah. Once is enough.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Elric, you finished in less than four minutes, but you did it without
properly completing a single obstacle. That’s fourteen minutes of penalty time. If you don’t
do it again, you’ll have one of the highest times possible. Do you understand?”

Edward grinned and ran a muddy hand through his hair, smearing some of it on his forehead
and slicking half his bangs back. Roy ignored the way Edward’s confident, messy figure
made his stomach do flips to focus on the hopes that this would be the worst of his rebellion.

“Perfect.”

The proctor stared incredulously. “Seventeen minutes, forty-seven seconds. You both have
ten minutes to shower and change before having your Cores measured. Keep in mind that
Core measurements are not only public, but that Führer King Bradley himself will be there.
I suggest you dress to protocol.”

The proctor shot a pointed look at Edward, who ignored it in favor of turning to his family.
When he saw their disapproving and exasperated looks, he changed course yet again to head
straight for the changing area. Roy glanced at Maes, who nodded back, before following.

Knowing that ten minutes really meant seven, Roy stripped as soon as the door was closed.
Fullmetal sat casually on a bench, not even pretending at privacy. Roy, in turn, didn’t bother
to try and hide himself as he hopped in the shower.

“Are you intending to make us late?”

“Nah. I’m going like this.”

Roy looked over Edward’s soaked, mud-covered, non-uniformed body before meeting wild,
intelligent eyes and accepting there was nothing he could do about it.

Roy exited the shower, grabbed a clean pair of gloves, and snapped to dry himself. In all
technicality, the scarred version on his hand worked, but he’d made adjustments to the circle
since carving it into himself and preferred the one on his gloves.

Once he was dry and visibly clean, he got dressed. Edward continued to stare.

“Like what you see?”

“Did I get more handsome after we bonded?”

Roy’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Fullmetal, I don’t—No. You didn’t get more handsome.” Roy stopped looking at Edward as
he bent to tie his shoes. “I’ve always found you incredibly attractive, and you’ve only grown
more attractive throughout the years. Regardless of bonding, you
are breathtakingly handsome.” Roy stood and looked back just in time to watch Edward’s
mud-speckled cheeks flush pink. “Why? Did I get more handsome?”

“Shut up, Mustang.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

“How much more handsome? I mean, it’s hard to think that I could be more handsome than I
already am, but if that’s possible, I’d like to—”

“Shut up! You didn’t get more handsome. I just . . . noticed it more. So put your ego away.”

Roy smiled. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The Alchemist of the People just told me I’m
handsome. I’ll be riding this high for days.”

Edward groaned.

“Tell me, Fullmetal. What kind of handsome am I? Do I make your heart skip a beat? Do I
make you weak in the knees? Do I put butterflies in your stomach? Or are all of your
reactions south of the border?” Roy held the door open for Edward in an overly dramatic
show of chivalry. Edward muttered something that Roy couldn’t hear as he walked by. “What
was that?”

Without turning around, Fullmetal shouted, “I said all of them!” and despite the angry tone,
the admission made Roy feel all of them back.

The proctor was waiting for them outside. He glared at Edward but escorted them to the Core
Evaluation Center without comment. The Center was a large, open field with a stage in the
middle. It was available for the use of everyone in Central, though it could be reserved for
families, schools, and the military. Despite being open on all sides, the area was packed.
Cameras flashed long before Roy could see Core reader.

The Führer stood next to the Core reader, which was a large, thin black stone held up like a
gong. Attached to that stone was a box reading 00.00. They were led to the stage where they
stood behind the Führer at parade rest. Well, Roy stood at parade rest. Edward stuffed his
hands in his pockets and tried to find something to lean against.

The Führer approached the podium as soon as they were situated. “What a turn-out.” Bradley
chuckled as the crowd cheered. “Normally these re-measurements are a rather drab affair. I
almost don’t know what to say.” He laughed again. The crowd laughed with him. “As the
majority of you know, two of our alchemists have recently bonded. Sometimes, bonding can
cause Cores to become stronger. This is a simple way to check and re-take measurements for
our records. That way we can be sure to place our soldiers where they’ll do the most good.
Now, I know I’m not the reason you’re all here today, so without further ado, we’ll take the
measurements. Colonel Mustang?”

The crowd cheered as Roy made his way over to Bradley, shook his hand, and proceeded to
the black stone. He placed a gloved hand on the center of the stone, which turned dark red on
contact. Dark red signified an Activation Fire Core. Roy watched as the numbers rose in the
connected measuring device.

Weak Cores generally measured around ten.

Most Cores were around thirty.

Roy’s measured out at sixty-three and three quarters. Ten higher than his last measurement.

The crowd cheered. Roy smiled and went back to parade rest at the back of the stage.

“Impressive! Next, of course, is Lieutenant Colonel Elric.” Edward moved to the Führer and
grinned as he stuck out a dirty, muddy glove. The Führer didn’t hesitate to shake his hand,
but the underlying irritation was clear. At least to Roy. “Were the showers not to your
liking?”

The crowd’s laughter drowned out Fullmetal’s response, and the blonde strode over to the
once-again black stone. It turned light red, and the numbers started rising before he made
contact. When his hand finally touched stone, the measurement counter became a blur of
numbers. It rose for a full twenty seconds before the screen finally stopped on a baffling
string of dashes.

Fullmetal took his hand off of the stone, backed up far enough for it to resettle at 00.00, and
tried again. The process repeated itself. This time, there was no cheering.

Fullmetal was too strong to be measured. They were too strong to be measured.

Bradley was quick to step forward in hopes of containing the outcome of their measurement
before it could spread too far. “It looks as though we’re having some technical difficulties.
Always the odd one out, isn’t he?” Bradley laughed, but it was hollow. “It seems as though
we’ll have to look into other methods of measurement, though we’ll be sure to update the
records as soon as we’re able. As always, State Alchemist Core levels can be accessed in the
Central archives. Thank you all for coming out.”

Thousands of whispers, questions, and speculations filled the air as Bradley left the podium
to speak with his head adviser. Fullmetal was quick to take his place.

“Hello?” Fullmetal tapped on the microphone, and the crowd hushed. “I don’t usually do
speeches or whatever, and I probably won’t ever do one again, so shut the fuck up and listen
to me. First off, the next reporter who asks me about my bond will get punched in the face.”
The crowd started to laugh, but Edward’s public speaking skills were less than spectacular, so
he just talked over them.

“If you have a question for me, make it about the chimera problem currently wrecking
Central. Anyone who asks me anything else is placing some stupid gossip over the safety of
the people, and that’s bullshit. I asked Mustang to bond with me because my Core was giving
out, and he gave up his chance to bond with someone else to save my life. That’s all there is
to it.”

Questions immediately rose from the press in the front. Edward glared until they stopped.

“As I was saying, I want to focus on protecting our city. That means protecting ourselves. On
Saturday, I’m going to be in Central Park giving self-defense lessons. Mustang’s unit has
offered to help me. If anyone else—anyone with knowledge of self-defense—wants to
volunteer, I’ll be there Friday, too. If you could come and let us know what you’re good at
and when you can be there Saturday, we’ll find something for you to do.

“Whether or not you can come Saturday, it’s important for you to be aware of the dangers
currently facing Central. I know that the military is powerful and seems to have an endless
amount of people and resources, but it’s clearly not doing its job, so we need to step up. Be
alert. Walk home in groups. Let friends and family and neighbors know your schedule so that
if something goes wrong, they’ll be able to get help right away. Talk to each other. Look out
for each other. Count on each other as a community.”

Edward shot a determined, unapologetic glance at Roy, who immediately knew he wasn’t
going to like whatever came next.

“Choose your contacts carefully, and don’t trust anyone you don’t personally know. Someone
being in the military doesn’t mean they’re trustworthy or good. It just means they’re in the
military. Trust your gut. If something feels wrong, go ahead and assume it is. And if you get
caught alone and someone tells you to quietly come with them, scream. Because death is
better than whatever they’re going to turn you into.

“Now I’m sure that plenty of you are thinking this is a stupid stunt because I’ve got issues
with the military or it’ll help Mustang’s campaign or whatever the fuck else. Well, fuck you.
I’m not saying any of this because I want you to live in fear. I’m saying it because I want you
to live. Because you deserve to know what’s going on. Because if I were in your place, I
would want to know.”

Edward took a deep breath.

“I think Führer King Bradley is behind the attacks.”

The crowd erupted. Bradley couldn’t hide his shock and anger fast enough, and Roy
genuinely wanted to punch Fullmetal for escalating the situation so quickly and publicly.
Making himself the focal point of the Führer's formidable rage wasn’t a strategy. It was a
death sentence. Fear and anger and betrayal all fought for dominance in Roy’s chest, but his
hands were tied. Fullmetal had the stage.
 Fullmetal raised a calm hand and waited for the panic to settle before speaking again.

“I could be wrong. I hope I’m wrong. Because if I’m right than the man we elected to protect
us is the one killing us. Seemingly endless power. Seemingly endless resources. Seemingly
endless ways to abuse it all. And if you don’t believe me, that’s fine. If you trust Brad to walk
you home at night, let him. But if you don’t, then don’t.

“I can’t make you band together and start looking out for each other. I can’t be on every street
corner and predict when every attack will happen. But you all can. Because if we stand
together than we are everywhere. We have a choice between trusting our government to
defend us or standing up and defending ourselves!

“And maybe this is protection. Maybe the government will protect us from invaders and let
us live cushy lives as long as we’re willing to do what they want, when they want it.
Honestly? I don’t give a fuck. All I can say for sure is that my people are under attack, and
every single incident is being swept under the rug! Every person who stands up to help is
being pushed back down! I don’t know about you, but if the protection we’ve been promised
comes at the cost of our freedom then I don’t want it.

“Resembool, Ishval, Central, Kanama, Asbec—it doesn’t matter where you come from. It
matters that you’re here. Yes, Amestris is a country, and yes, Central is a city. But that’s not
all they are. We are Central. We are Amestris. And that means we have to stand up for
ourselves! I was born in Resembool, but Central is my home. Help me protect it.”

Fullmetal lifted his hands from the podium and stepped back, signaling the end of his speech.

The responding roar of the crowd was deafening.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 28
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When Edward entered Roy’s study, Roy fought back the urge to leave. He had locked himself
away for two reasons only: to find a positive spin on Fullmetal’s nightmare of a press
conference and to avoid his bondmate. With the sheer severity of his anger continuing to boil
his blood hours after the impromptu speech, Roy would currently rather speak to the Führer
than Edward.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have that option.

Edward stared at him for long enough to understand that Roy was not in the mood to talk
before stupidly opening his mouth and starting a conversation. “Look, I know you’re mad,
but I need you to hear me out.”

“Mad? You think I’m mad?”

“Alright, you’re fucking pissed. And you’ve got every right to be. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you
sooner.”

“Didn’t tell me sooner? Fullmetal, you didn’t tell me at all!”

“I told you I was going to talk to the people.”

“You blindsided me.” Roy stood from his chair and slammed his hands on his desk to keep
himself from going around it. “We agreed that we can’t spell everything out for each other. I
understand that I can’t always plan for your actions, and I thought you understood my need to
prepare for everything else. So if you know you’re going to do something reckless like say, I
don’t know, launch a political attack on the Führer, I would like to plan for it!”

“I know, and I’m sorry already. I was trying to help—”

“Help? You do understand that you’re supposed to be my partner, not my enemy, don’t you?
Because I have people who depend on me and real-world issues that need solving, but all I’m
doing is running around trying to fix what you break.”

“Would you calm down? I didn’t do it on a whim. I planned ahead and took
countermeasures.”

“Countermeasures. Like what, having me clean up after you? I guess that makes sense seeing
as that’s what happens every time you decide to run off on an impulse just to suit your own
ego.”

“My ego?” Fullmetal stepped forward with a challenge in his stance, and the fury burning in
Roy flexed at the prospect of a fight. “You think this is about my ego? This is about the
millions of innocent people Brad’s trying to slaughter. Without knowing what they’re fighting
against—that they should be fighting against anything at all—they’re as good as dead.”

“Bullshit! All you’ve done is cause a panic. You aren’t protecting them. You’re making it
worse. The Führer is going to use this little stunt to slander you, discredit me, and glorify
himself. Then he’s going to kill you.”

“You’re the one that said to use my resources as the Alchemist of the People.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean this! If you had stopped for even a second and thought about it—”

“I did! I’ve thought this through, and if you would just shut up and listen to me—”

“If this is your height of thinking things through, it’s no wonder you lost your limbs. You
never think about anyone other than yourself and what you want. You may dress it up as a
moral crusade, but all you are is selfish.”

Roy saw the hurt and disbelief flash across Fullmetal’s face before it could be stowed behind
the anger, and Roy’s Core hitched in a warning to stop. A much larger part of Roy, however,
was furious, and hurting the invincible Fullmetal Alchemist—the man who’d gotten them
into this mess in the first place—felt good.

“Fuck you! I did think it through. I pushed Greeling away and arranged ways for the people
closest to me to be safer—”

“Oh? And who’s going to keep me safe? You? You can hardly protect yourself.”

Edward shifted back in something akin to a flinch, and Roy noticed for the first time that
Fullmetal was holding a small white box with a blue ribbon around it.

“I protect people just fine. And it may be hard to remember from all the way up on your high
horse, but you’re the one who chose to work with me. You knew what you were getting into
when you bonded us.”

“Maybe I didn’t!”

Edward’s anger dropped to reveal wariness, and Roy could see something similar to fear
lurking just beyond that. His Core jerked, begging him to heal the hurt already showing on
his bondmate, but Roy choked it down.

“You don’t mean that. You said—”

“That was before you publicly challenged the Führer's allegiance to his country. Because I
thought that if—if—you did something this stupid, then you would at least have the iota of
respect necessary to warn me first. This wasn’t just being left out of the loop. It was a slap in
the face. And damn me, Fullmetal, but I thought you were smarter than that.”

And there it was. The hurt. Fullmetal tried to hide it, but he had always been a terrible liar.

“I was . . . I meant to tell you. I wanted to tell you. I just knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“So you decided it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission? Of all the childish—Get
out.”

“What?”

“Out.”

Fullmetal’s incredulous expression turned angry, and for possibly the first time in his life, he
did as he was told. He turned, muttered a harsh, “Whatever,” and tossed the box in the trash
on his way out. Roy sat back down and returned to staring at his still-untouched paperwork,
somehow feeling even worse than before Fullmetal’s visit.

(***Intertwined***)

Selim calmly watched as his father trashed the living room. His mother was in her bedroom
pretending her husband wasn’t a monster, but Selim had no such interests. Selim was the
embodiment of wrath. He knew anger intimately well, and Edward Elric had made Selim’s
father angry. Really, genuinely angry.

To be honest, it was disappointing.

He’d seen his father mad before, of course. It was usually after an irritating report from one
of his lackeys, but he also usually handled it better. Now, with his image taking a large hit
and his public persona coming into question, he was consumed by his rage.

Selim, who was always angry, at best, knew how hard it could be to overcome the temptation
anger brought. He also knew that anger was a weapon meant for decimating shields. If fury
could be properly focused into malice, its aim always rang true. It was anger that allowed
people to realize what would hurt their opponents most and anger which gave them the push
necessary to go through with it. To destroy someone which they otherwise may have spared.

Selim knew when it was appropriate to let his anger show. He knew who he could reveal his
frustrations to without worry of repercussion. He knew how to utilize his rage to its fullest
extent and never to let it go to waste. While Selim’s father could handle getting mad, he was
apparently incapable of molding raw fury into something useful. It was worse than
disappointing.

It was disdainful.

The man who currently controlled Selim’s schedule was breaking things to release his
frustrations when he should’ve been honing those feelings into something stronger and better.
Something more deadly. Selim understood that this was his father’s way of calming down
enough to take control, but all he saw was the discarding of vital resources. The Führer's
anger could be grand, and he was wasting it on tables and vases.
Selim didn’t have any particular urge to help Gerard with his scheme, but he didn’t have any
particular urge to be the son of an embarrassment, either. He supposed the final decision
depended on how his father chose to recover from this incident. Hopefully, it would be with
more grace than he was currently bestowing on the living room.

For his sake.

(***Intertwined***)

Even with Mustang’s lips connected so fervently to his, Ed could hardly believe they were
doing this. It was one thing to make out in the janitor’s closet. It was another matter entirely
to lie naked in Mustang’s bed while the Colonel ravaged him.

But his kisses felt good, and Ed wasn’t in any state to turn away offered affection.

Ed tried to spread his legs further only to find his automail leg tangled in the sheets. Mustang
nipped at his hip before kissing his way back up Ed’s chest, smile caring in a way Ed had
only ever dreamed about. Mustang’s lips met Ed’s again, and Ed attempted to draw his
bondmate closer only to be stopped by another sheet over his automail arm.

“You’re gorgeous, Fullmetal.”

Ed looked back to that kind, caring smile, nausea bubbling. Mustang was covering him up.
He liked Ed, just not the deformities Ed carried. Mustang leaned forward as Ed squirmed
back. Mustang’s smile stretched to a grin, then a maw as a chimera ripped through his skin to
go for Ed’s throat. Ed rolled to the side, suddenly clothed and free from the sheets.

He hated his hesitation as he saw familiar obsidian eyes staring out from the chimera’s
monstrous face. Then it attacked. Ed did his best to dodge, but it was faster than anything
he’d faced before. It bowled him over again and again, each time taking another pound of
flesh.

Knowing that he didn’t have a choice and that this thing was no longer Mustang, Ed closed
his eyes and transmuted his arm into a lance. The chimera attacked him from behind, and he
struck on instinct. His lance pierced flesh as easily as ever, though it wasn’t a chimera that
fell limply against him.

It was Greeling.

Greeling coughed, not even having time to question Ed’s betrayal before his eyes glazed over.

“No!”

Ed awoke with a start. His mind took terrifying seconds to catch up to the fact that he was on
a bench. His breaths were slow and shaky, and he buried his face in trembling hands as he
separated fiction from reality.
Greeling wasn’t dead.

Mustang wasn’t a chimera.

He was sleeping on a bench instead of in his bed because he and Mustang had gotten into an
argument, and Ed was too much of a coward to go find out where it left them. Because as
much as Ed disliked Mustang, he also wanted to go on another date. It was confusing,
exhausting, exhilarating, and quite possibly all-for-naught seeing as this time Ed may have
fucked it up beyond repair.

Mustang was furious, and Ed couldn’t blame him. Had a few of Mustang’s comments crossed
the line? Definitely. But Ed could relate to the blinding rage that’d caused him to cross them.
Besides, Mustang’s most harmful shots weren’t even especially volatile. They were just hard
to hear. After all these weeks, Ed was finally starting to believe that he and Mustang could
actually have something. He didn’t know if it could be classified as a crush or what, but he
definitely felt. That was more than he’d even hoped for in the past.

So of course he had to pull a stunt that would make Mustang second-guess whether or not he
wanted Ed.

The thought of Mustang realizing that Ed was more trouble than he was worth made tears
burn in his eyes. He angrily blinked them back. Ed had been through so much worse than a
possible break-up with a guy he wasn’t even dating that this pain shouldn’t even register on
the scale.

But it did.

It did, and it made Ed feel just as selfish as Mustang had said. People needed him. Lives
depended on him. And he was sulking on a bench over a fight with his bondmate. It was
ridiculous and childish and brought Ed right back to the dilemma that had him making the
speech in the first place.

Protect his friends.

Protect the people.

Ed thought he could do both. He hoped he could do both. He tried to do both.

If he were being honest with himself, he had known this was a possibility. Giving Mustang a
pair of gloves didn’t make up for going behind his back on such a big maneuver. At the same
time, Ed couldn’t have spoken to all those people without warning them.

Maybe keeping the masses in the dark was the smarter move politically, but it felt like
murder.

Mustang had claimed Ed didn’t think things through, but he did. He was genuinely prepared
for the worst possible outcome, and that was exactly why he let himself sleep on a bench
instead of manning up and confronting his bondmate. Because if everything had to go
downhill, it could go downhill tomorrow.
Ed knew that Mustang might not forgive him. He was overtly aware of Brad’s ability to snipe
him out of nowhere for his slander. But if his life was the price to pay for the safety of
millions of others, wasn’t that cheap?

Ed’s Core twinged painfully as his time apart from Mustang stretched too far. He ignored it.

He’d done what he had to do, and he would accept the consequences.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy couldn’t sleep.

He was tired, he was in bed, his eyes were closed, but he couldn’t sleep. He would like to
blame it on his Core's need to be close to his bondmate, but Roy didn’t make a habit of lying
to himself.

He’d heard Edward slam the door shortly after their argument ended, and he hadn’t heard it
open again. It was nearly four in the morning, and Edward had left barely past ten at night.
Six hours of sulking should have been plenty enough to cool Edward’s temper and bring him
home.

Only it hadn’t been Edward’s temper that was out of check, had it?

For once, Fullmetal had been the one trying to placate the situation while Roy sought the
fight. Not that Fullmetal hadn’t deserved to be berated for his stupidity. The speech itself was
a terrible idea, and that betrayal was only heightened by Fullmetal going against their base
agreement to do it. “Don’t be a loose cannon” wasn’t a hard rule to follow.

Unfortunately, as much as anger was his reason, it wasn’t an excuse. Especially since Edward
had been approaching him to apologize.

Roy’s thoughts flitted back to the white box still sitting in the trash can in his study, and he
was tempted for the umpteenth time to go get it. Edward wasn’t the type to give gifts, and as
such, it was probably something small and cliché like chocolates. It was an apology bought
on the way home as Edward realized he had done something ridiculously stupid, but it was
also the first thing that Edward had bought specifically for Roy.

Half-assed apology chocolates or not, Roy wanted it.

That being said, he had hurt Edward enough for the blonde to prefer Roy’s gift go to the
wastebasket, and Roy felt guilty enough to respect that. Or at least, he’d felt guilty enough to
respect it for the past six hours. Now he was tired and guilty and worried, and if he couldn’t
chase Edward down, he could at least see what Edward had meant to apologize with.

Accepting that his bondmate likely wouldn’t be back any time soon, Roy gave up his attempt
at respecting wishes and returned to the study. The little white box was lighter than expected.
Roy shook it once, just in case he could tell what it was from a sound. If he could, then he
would be able to put it back in the trash, curiosity sated, and continue waiting.

Fortunately or unfortunately one, the box was quiet. Roy undid the ribbon and lifted the top,
his mouth opening in soundless surprise as he took in the complex array inside.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Not only did it have a litany of runes that Roy couldn’t identify, the only Latin word he could
read was ignis. Fire. On top of that, there was a circle weaving itself between the outer and
inner circles, isolating what looked to be an equation. Numbers, as a general iron-clad rule,
did not belong in arrays.

Roy reached into the box with all the reverence of an architect about to touch a long-sought
artifact. Bare fingers ghosted over the fine, expensive white cloth and the little bumps of red
string where the array was embroidered. It was in that motion that he realized the cloth was
thick and sturdy. His heartbeat picked up as he pulled it out of the box. The cloth naturally
unfolded to reveal the only thing that could shove his comment about Edward not thinking
things through back in his face.

They were gloves.

Roy admired their quality, which was on par with if not above his own, and the meticulous
work which must’ve gone into the circle on the back. The embroidery was masterful, but the
array itself was what struck Roy hardest. Edward had created it for him. Even with Edward’s
genius, it must’ve taken hours. Days, even.

He pulled the gloves on slowly and carefully, sighing at the feel of them against his skin.
They were stiff, though not as stiff as most new gloves, and Roy felt vaguely like he was
trying on a tuxedo for his wedding.

Excited.

Desirable.

In love.

Roy concentrated on the smallest flame he could possibly make, well-aware of how much
more difficult controlling fire had become after the combination of his inheritance and
bonding, and he snapped.

It was soft enough to border on just rubbing his fingers together. Awe fluttered in his chest as
a minuscule flame danced before his eyes. He hadn’t even felt it. It wasn’t a matter of
concentration and keeping it under control. He just thought, and there it was. Roy snapped
again, and a dozen more flames lit the room.

A ridiculously pleased laugh left Roy’s throat as he snapped using both hands, and the old
flames dissipated to make room for new, larger ones. Roy stared at his hands as he allowed
those flames to flicker out, mind racing with the sheer amount of power literally at his
fingertips.

And just like that, he knew he had to go find Edward. During their argument, Roy had said
that he couldn’t trust Edward to protect him in the midst of everything else. This was
Edward’s response. Fullmetal had never intended to protect Roy.

He intended to help Roy protect himself.

Roy dressed almost without looking, grabbed his keys, and was in the car before he realized
he didn’t know where Edward had gone. His first guess was Maes’s home, but with how
Elicia had been avoiding Edward, it was unlikely. Edward had also cut ties with Gerard,
which would’ve been Roy’s second guess. Resembool was too far, and his home had burned
to the ground years ago even if it weren’t.

Edward always found his home in people more than places, but all of his people were
occupied. So where would he go to feel at home? For a man who spent more time traveling
than in his dorm, that home-bound sense of safety and normalcy could be anywhere.

Understanding sparked to life, and Roy started the car.

Fifteen minutes of deserted road later, Roy pulled into the parking lot of the train station. He
walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog and was more than relieved to see
the signature gold and red of Edward Elric draped across a bench. Roy took a confident step
forward, then stopped. As much as “I’m sorry” was on the tip of his tongue, the only words
he could think to follow his apology were “I love you.”

For the life of him, Roy couldn’t think of when that had happened.

His crush on Fullmetal was old news, and while his feelings had certainly been edging
toward love, the connection between the feeling and the words had never been never so
strong. It was startling in its intensity, and for once, Roy had no doubts about how he felt.
The only thing he wasn’t sure of was when. When, exactly, had he slipped off the deep end
into loving Fullmetal?

Had he felt this way during Edward’s speech? Certainly not before their bonding, but not
directly after their bonding, either. He hadn’t loved Edward on their first date, for sure. On
their last date though?

Roy’s mind swam with pointless questions he couldn’t answer, and he finally understood why
Maes had brashly told Gracia he loved her during their very first meeting. With emotions
like this swimming in his chest, how could he not want to say it aloud?

Roy was in love with Edward.

As he stood there, frozen by the sudden rush of realization, Edward tilted his head back.
Golden eyes zeroed in on Roy while blonde brows scrunched.

“Mustang? What are you doing here?”

And just like that, Roy knew he couldn’t say it. This wasn’t a fairytale. Proclaiming his love
wouldn’t magically make Edward love him back. It would only make things more
complicated. It may even make Edward run away again.

Roy schooled his expression into something he hoped wasn’t love-sick and responded,
“Looking for you. What else?”

Edward turned his attention back to the sky as Roy moved closer. “I’m really not in the mood
right now.”

“Yes, well I wasn’t in the mood when you attempted to apologize earlier, so I figure this
makes us even. I’m sorry.”

Edward’s focus swiveled back to Roy, and his body swiveled with it, putting him back in
proper seating position. “You’re sorry?”

“I said things I shouldn’t have. You also said things you shouldn’t have and in front of a lot
more people, but at least you owned up to it. You thought it through beforehand.”

Amber eyes dilated before narrowing, and Roy splayed his hands to show off his new gloves
in response to the unspoken suspicion.

Edward sneered. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. Everything I did and everything you
said, and you’re suddenly fine with it because of some gloves?”

“I didn’t come here to fight, Fullmetal.”

“You shouldn’t have come here at all. You made it pretty damn clear you don’t want to work
with me, and you going back on that just because I gave you a shiny new toy doesn’t make
me want to work with you.”

Roy took a deep breath as he reminded himself that he didn’t want to fight with Fullmetal.
“The gloves aren’t what made me decide to keep working with you. They’re just what let me
know that I wanted to find you instead of waiting for you to come home. And I have been
waiting. For hours now, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, well you may as well go back and keep waiting because I’m not leaving.”

“Then neither am I.”

Fullmetal glared, and Roy raised unimpressed brows.

“You really don’t know how to take a hint, do you?”

“I’m a politician. Of course I know how to take a hint. Unfortunately for you, I’m also your
superior officer, and I can decide on my own whether or not I want to take it. I don’t.”

“You’re a real piece of work. You know that?”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Fullmetal watched Roy for a full minute, openly disbelieving, then scooted over. Roy took
the invitation and, despite having plenty of room, sat close enough for their thighs to touch.
The relief was instant. Both Roy and Edward leaned back to soak in the feeling of being
connected again.

Fullmetal interrupted their peace with a taunting, “So you’re sorry, huh?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t like what you did or how you did it, but I should’ve heard
you out. Not solely because these”—Roy stretched out his arms to show off his new gloves
—“are amazing either.”

Fullmetal scoffed. “Just try not to fuck ‘em up. I’ve got the array down, but they took forever
to make.”

Roy’s brows rose to his hairline. “You made these?”

“What else was I supposed to do? That array in the wrong hands could do some seriously
messed up shit.”

“You know how to sew?”

Edward huffed and crossed his arms, eyes focused on the tracks. “Embroider, not sew. And
yeah. Sort of. I got Gracia to teach me.” He stopped, turned his gaze to the concrete, then
added, “They’re also waterproof.”

“How?”

“It’s a pretty simple mutation array. They’ll be a little stiffer, but you won’t be rendered
useless by the rain.”

Edward shrugged like it was no big deal while Roy pulled his hands back to examine the
gloves with new understanding. They were more than an apology present or complex
alchemy. They were Edward learning a new skill and spending extra hours of arguably
unnecessary work for Roy. Just for Roy.

Roy swallowed around a lump in his throat as he tried to find words that weren’t I love you.

He settled on, “I’ll take care of them. After all, they’re the most powerful weapon we’ve got.
They make alchemy almost literally effortless. All the concentration and dedication I’ve put
into flame alchemy to make it as easy as a snap of the fingers, and suddenly it’s even easier
than that. They’re astounding.”

Edward shook his head. “It’s not the array. I mean, yeah, the array really fucking helps, but
without the whole concentration-dedication part before that, it’d be pretty useless. You’re the
one doing it.” Roy preened under the praise, and Edward must’ve seen that because he
quickly re-directed their conversation with a gruff, “You did say some pretty shitty stuff
though. I mean, bringing my automail into it? That was low.”

“Would you prefer I pretend not to notice you only have one arm and one leg? Because I can
do that.”
“No. I’m just saying my automail is—”

“Automail? Why would you need automail with four completely functional, flesh limbs at
your disposal?” Roy blinked twice, then raised a gloved hand to cover his mouth, pretending
mortification. “Oh my god. Fullmetal, I am so sorry. I never noticed that you’re missing half
your limbs before this very moment. That must be a sensitive topic, too. Don’t worry. I’ll
never bring it up again.”

Edward jammed his elbow into Roy’s side, and Roy broke character to chuckle.

“You’re an ass, Mustang.” But Edward was amused, and they both knew it.

Unfortunately, the harm done by large-scale arguments couldn’t be undone by humor or gifts,
and the uneasy air between them resettled.

“I know I am. Jokes aside, I really am sorry for what I said. Not that I didn’t mean it. I think
you’re a brash, reckless idiot and I’ll probably never condone anything that comes out of
your mouth politically. I just shouldn’t have said it the way I did. And I should never have
said I was unsure about us.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No. No, I’ve never been more sure. It just scared me to think of how likely you are to die,
and I considered backing out of this . . . whatever this is to avoid suffering through that.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What made you decide you want to keep doing . . . this? This whatever it is.”

“You did. With the gloves. With your speech. With how abysmally stupid and awe-
inspiringly smart you are. I hate that you went behind my back—and I do mean hate,
Fullmetal—but I also respect your need to protect the people above all else. I want to be a
part of that. I . . .”

Love you. Want to be with you. Wish I knew how to make you love me back. Am willing to do
whatever it takes to make you happy. Feel honored to have a part in your life.

“I am proud to be your bondmate.”

Edward stared at Roy with a mix of hope and doubt. Amber eyes flicked down to Roy’s lips,
and that was all the invitation Roy needed to lean in.

The bench and the train station and their fight faded to nothing as Roy’s Core flared up and
Edward’s mouth opened in warm invitation. Kissing Edward was the high Roy had been
craving, and he cupped the back of Edward’s neck to pull him closer.

Edward responded by placing his hand on Roy’s waist and slipping a few metal fingers
beneath Roy’s shirt. His grip was somewhere between gentle and needy, bringing a burst of
excited butterflies to Roy’s stomach. Roy massaged encouraging circles on the nape of
Edward’s neck, and he was rewarded by Edward pressing as close to Roy as their seating on
the bench would allow.

Edward nipped at Roy’s bottom lip, which Roy took as permission to place his other hand on
Edward’s thigh, right at the junction of flesh and automail. When Edward didn’t protest, Roy
slid his hand upward. He drew lazy circles on Edward’s inner thigh with his thumb, gently
making his way closer to Edward’s groin.

That was when Edward pulled back.

“Mustang, we’re in a train station.”

But the protest was breathless and barely far enough from Roy’s lips to count as not-kissing,
so Roy just leaned in again. Edward fell back into their kiss with vigor, like Roy was water in
the desert and he was thirsty. It took all of Roy’s control not to undo the button on Edward’s
pants, and he curbed his desire by moving his hand to rest on the round edge of Edward’s ass
instead.

Edward adjusted to give Roy room to fully grasp his ass, and Roy used that leverage to pull
Edward up onto his lap. The metal hand on his waist moved down to his hip so Edward could
better balance himself while its flesh counterpart threaded into Roy’s hair. Edward braced his
forearm on Roy’s chest.

The kiss was sweet and hot with just a tinge of desperation. Roy slid his hand from Edward’s
ass up to his lower back, and Edward rolled his hips. Pleasure rushed Roy, cock first. He
groaned out his approval. Edward added more pressure to their kiss, hand curling tighter in
Roy’s hair. Then he pulled away.

“We should stop.”

“Mhm.”

Roy kissed Edward’s collarbone. Sucked on his throat. Worshipped his jugular. Edward
craned his neck to give Roy more room.

Fullmetal breathed out a moan that turned into, “Mustang, seriously. We’re in a—oh hell—
we’re in a train station.”

“I know. It’s really hot.”

Edward laughed, and it sounded like success. Still, he pulled even farther away to stand. Roy
reluctantly let him.

“We need to get back to the house. We need sleep.”

Sleep was the furthest thing from what Roy wanted, but he conceded without a fuss,
accepting that Edward had control here. They didn’t touch on the way to the car, but they
walked closer than usual. There was no conversation. No music. The calm of the drive
should’ve helped his erection to wane, but every time he glanced at Edward only to see
Edward glancing back, his dick stood straight up.

Edward, with his messy braid, kiss-bruised neck, and brand-new set of bedroom eyes, was
turning Roy on like nothing else. The walk from the car up to the library was almost
torturous, and when Edward turned around instead of opening the door to his room, Roy
wasn’t sure whether his heart or his cock felt it more.

Edward was unlike anyone Roy had ever whatever-this-wased before. He was strong and
forceful, and even after an argument followed by making up followed by making out, he
didn’t look at Roy with stars in his eyes. He just looked.

“This was . . . something.”

“Right.”

“You’re still a bastard.”

Roy shifted, unsure if he was allowed to lean in for a final kiss. Edward shifted with him.

“I’d be oddly disappointed if you thought otherwise.”

Edward scoffed softly while his upper body leaned a minuscule amount closer to Roy. When
he licked his lips, Roy didn’t even attempt not to stare. Every molecule in Roy’s body begged
him to close the gap between them, their sexual attraction a near physical pull.

Edward must’ve felt it too because his voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “You
should probably go.”

“Yeah. I should just . . .”

Roy took a step away only for Edward to grab him by the shirt and yank him back. Their lips
smashed, their teeth clashed, and the passion reignited like it’d never stopped. Roy gripped
Edward’s waist while Edward hooked around his arms around Roy’s neck. They stumbled,
crashing against the library door. Neither cared.

Somehow, kissing Edward after fifteen minutes of separation was just as freeing as it was
after hours and days and weeks. The only difference being that this time they had no reason
to stop.

Roy peeled one hand off Edward’s waist to fumble for the doorknob. A twist. A click. Regret.
Edward’s messiness, much like equivalent exchange and death, was inevitable. There wasn’t
a single surface in the library not covered in books or notebooks or paper, and dear god were
those arrays drawn on his floor?

Roy shut the door again.

Edward pulled back to ask, “What are you—” but Roy cut him off with another kiss. He used
the door as leverage to heft Edward’s formidable weight up to his hips. Edward caught on as
quickly with this as he did everything else, legs wrapping firmly around Roy’s waist. It was
core strength alone that kept Edward upright, and the ease with which he did it made Roy
kiss him harder.

Roy carried Edward to his bedroom, and while it wasn’t easy, the weight was welcome. He
squeezed Edward’s thighs, enjoying the way only one responded to the pressure, before
tossing Edward onto the bed. The blonde bounced against the mattress, looking for all the
world like he belonged there. Roy took a step forward, meaning to join him, then stopped. He
turned to the side and carefully tugged off his new gloves.

Edward scoffed as Roy laid the gloves gently on his dresser. He opened his mouth,
doubtlessly ready to make another smartass comment. Roy beat him to the punch by hopping
onto the bed, covering Edward’s body with his own, and re-initiating their kiss. Pleasure
thrummed from his Core and settled in his dick. Edward flipped them over.

He pinned Roy with an ease that had Roy’s erection throbbing. For all that Roy had slept
around, he’d never before understood the attraction that accompanied being with someone
stronger than himself. He preferred his partners shorter and slighter. He liked being dominant.
But lying there under Edward, pinned and prone, he got it. Because while Roy was toned,
Edward was ripped. He spent far more time working out and fighting than Roy, and it
showed. His abs were chiseled in a way Roy’s hadn’t been since the war, and the flesh of his
legs were muscled enough to rival the steel.

He was built. He was powerful. And Roy was so fucking turned on.

Then Edward sat up, legs boxing Roy in on either side, and tossed his cloak to the floor. He
pulled his shirt over his head next, exposing those beautifully carved abs, and Roy felt his
heart skip a beat. He’d slept with dozens of people, all of whom could be considered
stunning, and Edward outdid them with ease.

Edward’s shirt joined his cloak, and he tugged on the hem of Roy’s shirt so it could do the
same. Roy arched his back and tugged his shirt over his head, pleasure sparking as their
cocks touched. By the time Roy’s shirt hit the floor, Edward had scooted back and untied the
strings of Roy’s sweatpants.

That was when Roy’s rational mind broke through his haze of lust to remember Edward was
a virgin. This was his first time, and Roy was seven years his senior, not to mention his
superior officer. While Edward wasn’t the type to be swayed by authority, there were still
grounds for an imbalance of power. Roy wanted to be sure this happened on Edward’s terms.

So even though it physically hurt him to say, “Fullmetal, stop,” he did it. And when Edward
looked up with golden eyes darkened by want, it took even more willpower to continue, “You
don’t have to do this.”

Edward tilted his head, his mouth torturously close to Roy’s dick, and scrunched his brows
like Roy was stupid.

“I want to.”
He tugged Roy’s pants and boxers down to mid-thigh in one motion. Pleasure spiked as a
warm, calloused hand encircled his dick, and any sense of responsibility Roy may have felt
over Edward’s decision-making ability abruptly vanished.

Edward’s hand felt good, but it was the intense observation that undid Roy. Every time the
pace or movement changed, Edward’s eyes were on Roy’s face. Watching Roy’s reactions
and cataloguing them for later. He was treating Roy like the alchemy he loved so much—that
he obsessed over—and the attention was intoxicating. Metal fingers trailed down Roy’s thigh
as Edward leaned forward.

He held eye contact with Roy as he kissed the tip of Roy’s dick, then took the head into his
mouth. Roy groaned, pleasure turning to ecstasy. It’d been over a month since his last blow
job, and he wanted to lay back and just enjoy. At the same time, if Edward Motherfucking
Elric was going to give him head, he needed to watch.

Roy craned his neck, eyes on the thin circle of Edward’s lips around his cock. Edward started
off with a slow bob, swallowing an extra few centimeters with every duck of his head. He
was clearly testing the waters to see how much he could take, but his gaze never left Roy. He
didn’t manage to fit Roy’s entire dick in his mouth, but it was obvious when he found the
amount he was comfortable throating because his tongue came into play. A lick here. A suck
there. Nothing that could make Roy cum, but plenty enough to make him shudder. Roy rolled
his hips as Edward licked his frenulum, enjoying the slow exploration of his preferences.

Then, just like with Edward’s piano playing, he took off. Edward set a punishing pace while
his tongue did Roy-didn’t-even-know-what, and his flesh hand curled round the base to
stroke everywhere Edward’s mouth wasn’t.

Roy’s back arched, head falling onto the pillows. He moaned Edward’s name.

Edward rewarded Roy’s vocalization with a hum and an extra deep dip, both of which had
Roy’s thoughts stuttering. He wondered for a second how long Edward could keep this up
(blow jobs were a nightmare on the jaw), then his Core flared.

It flared and burned and rushed in a way that mimicked the white-hot pleasure of bonding,
and Roy hardly knew he was cumming until he opened his eyes to see one hand furled in
Edward’s hair, pushing the blonde down until Edward’s nose was nestled in dark pubes. By
then, however, he was too far gone. He felt the tight coil in his stomach unfurl as the pleasure
of his Core gained momentum, and Roy came like never before.

It took a good few seconds after finishing for Roy to realize he was still holding Edward in
place, and he quickly let go. Edward pulled back slowly, bobbing twice more before
disconnecting from Roy’s dick with a soft pop.

Edward balanced on his automail forearm and massaged his jaw with his flesh hand. “Not
bad for a first time, I take it?”

Roy’s sigh was three-fourths satisfaction, one-fourth disbelief. “The hell did you do to my
Core?”
“I already told you. Fire Cores don’t just touch. They funnel into each other. Once you isolate
the connection, it’s pretty easy to manipulate.”

Part of Roy was interested to learn how he could better control his Core, but a much larger
part wanted to focus on making Edward come undone seven ways to Sunday. He twisted to
grab Edward’s automail arm and pull the blonde into kissing range. Edward tasted like Roy,
and Roy hummed as he flipped their positions.

Roy stood from the bed to yank off his shoes and pants. He moved on to Edward’s combat
boots (they were just as heavy as the ones Roy had worn in Ishval), then Edward’s pants. As
fantastic as Edward’s erection looked trapped in leather, it was magnificent when free.
Edward’s cock had a natural tan that came with his Xerxecian ancestry, but it was clearly
paler than the rest of his body. That comparative paleness was exacerbated by the way it laid
across a bed of golden blonde pubes to stretch up toward Fullmetal’s stomach.

Roy tugged the tight cloth off of Edward’s toned calves and tossed it to the floor. Edward
said, “Mustang, wait” but the words were breathless and yearning. Roy curled his hand
around Edward’s dick, gentle but firm, and he was able to stroke it only once before a string
of cum painted both Roy’s hand and Edward’s chest.

Edward and Roy stared at each other. Edward’s blush darkened as the humiliation over his
premature ejaculation sank in. Roy raised both brows as the pause turned pregnant. Edward
reached up, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at Roy.

“Shut up!”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You were going to. And maybe you’ve done this half-a-million times already, but it’s my
first time, so I can’t be expected to—to last.”

Edward managed to look even more embarrassed as he said the word ‘last,’ and Roy smiled
at the naivety of it all. Edward was embarrassed for cumming quickly, but all Roy could
focus on was how hot it was for Edward to have gotten so turned on by sucking Roy’s dick.

“How about the second time?”

Before Edward could respond, Roy splayed his cum-covered hand on Edward’s abs and
ducked to deepthroat Edward’s cock. He may not have understood how to manipulate their
Core energy flow, but he did know sex. He knew what it took to make a man writhe and beg
for orgasm, and he knew exactly how far he could go without allowing that sought-after
release.

So when Edward moaned seconds in, his eighteen-year-old stamina already picking back up,
Roy knew it was because he was good. He waffled between slow and fast; deepthroating and
paying special attention to the tip; gentle pressure and suction. Roy glanced up to see what
Edward preferred (suction on the deep throat, gentle pressure on the tip, and fast as Roy
could go, though slow made him buck the most) and kept a hand on Edward’s thigh for the
tell-tale tremors of a nearing orgasm.
Roy smoothed his pointer and middle fingers through the cum on Edward’s stomach and used
his shoulders to spread muscular thighs a little wider. Golden eyes dilated as Roy’s finger
circled his asshole, and the blonde tensed. Roy lifted his head, ready to ease Edward’s
worries.

Edward shut him up with a scowl. “Why the hell do you get to top?”

Roy barked out a laugh, equally unable to believe that this was the hesitation and feeling like
he should’ve expected it. “Fullmetal, I promise you can fuck me one day, but I’d really rather
you know what you’re doing first.”

The blonde looked unsure, and Roy berated himself for ever thinking that what Edward had
said was what Edward had meant. Complaining about who penetrated whom, much like
taking the lead in a dance, was about asserting independence, not desire. Fullmetal didn’t ask
because he necessarily wanted to top. He asked because he thought Roy would insist on
dominance and, more importantly, assure him that Roy knew what he was doing.

He was nervous.

“Just don’t go all the way. Not . . . yet.”

Roy smiled and kissed the side of Edward’s dick. “Of course.”

He dragged his tongue up to the burgundy head of Edward’s cock, then returned to
deepthroating. He drew little circles around Edward’s asshole until the cum dried, then
gathered more and did it again. The longer Roy touched without penetrating, the more
Edward relaxed.

Roy hadn’t been with a virgin in a long time—he was too old and they were too young—but
he was experienced enough to know how to turn nerves into pleasure. He repeated the
process until there was no cum left, then abandoned Edward’s cock to get the actual lube.

Edward tensed again, but Roy just pressed and caressed until he was once again boneless.
When Edward’s thighs started to tremble, Roy simultaneously swallowed Edward’s cock to
the base and pushed a gentle finger inside. Edward shifted in discomfort, and Roy dragged
his tongue up the underside of Edward’s cock. He switched from teasing to doing everything
Edward liked all at once, and Fullmetal bucked into his mouth.

Roy kept his hand still, allowing Edward full control over how quickly he got used to the
intrusion. After a few instinctual thrusts, Edward seemed to understand that, too. It was only
once Edward was willing to fully seat himself on Roy’s finger that Roy started to move
independently.

Roy made slow circles with his finger, pressing against every wall multiple times before
slipping out, re-lubing, and re-inserting two digits. This time, Edward only tensed for a few
seconds. Roy scissored his fingers, but without the need to prep Edward for something larger,
stretching wasn’t a priority.
Instead, Roy slowly pressed and hooked and searched until Edward sucked in a sharp gasp
and arched. Then Roy started moving again. Really moving.

He bobbed his head in time with his thrusts, and Edward breathed out, “Oh fuck.”

Edward’s abs trembled. He fisted both hands in the sheets. Roy took a moment to appreciate
how lucky he was, then removed his fingers from Edward’s ass, switched his blow job to a
hand job, and teethed at Edward’s nipple.

Cum spurted across chiseled abs for the second time that night, and the reverent “Mustang”
that came with it made Roy feel like he might have lived just for this moment. His throbbing
erection, however, felt otherwise. Roy sat back on his heels, legs bracketing Edward’s shins,
and stroked himself with the same cum-slick hand that’d gotten Edward off.

Edward watched him masturbate, eyes lidded and gaze warm. Frizzy blonde flyaways made a
halo around his head, messy braid somehow only adding to his ethereal image. Edward’s
automail clashed exotically with tan skin, and Roy’s attention was drawn downward once
more. A kiss-reddened nipple. Perfect abs. And finally Edward’s half-hard cock pillowed on
a bed of golden curls.

When Roy came, he did it on Edward.

As soon as Roy finished squeezing himself dry, Edward yanked him down for another kiss.
Roy threaded his hand into Edward’s hair and pushed his tongue into Edward’s mouth,
desperate to avoid the dreaded three-word confession filling his chest. Luckily, Edward
kissed like it was their first, last, and every kiss in between, making it hard to focus on much
else.

Edward’s hand rose to intertwine with the hand stationed in his hair, and once flesh met flesh,
Edward broke their kiss.

“Fucking seriously, Mustang?”

“What?”

“You got jizz in my hair. Do you have any idea how hard this’ll be to wash out if it dries?”

Roy smiled, smug and adoring. “Yes.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Get off. I need to shower.”

Roy stopped holding himself up, instead resting his full weight on Fullmetal in some silly
form of protest. Fullmetal, in response, effortlessly rolled Roy off. His strength and the work
that must’ve gone into cultivating it once again had Roy’s feelings fluttering, and Roy
violently pushed them back down.

Fullmetal strode to the bathroom, beautifully confident in his nudity. He paused, hand on the
door, and turned back to Roy. “Does this make me easy?”
 Roy scoffed. “Fullmetal, if this is you being easy, I would hate to see you playing hard to
get.”

Edward scowled but apparently considered the answer good enough and continued on his
quest for the shower. It was only after the water was running that Fullmetal poked his head
back out, mismatched hands working to undo his messy braid.

“You coming or what?”

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 29
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Bradley didn’t dislike Edward Elric. He disliked incomplete mission reports. He disliked
messiness. He disliked ingratitude. He disliked cold coffee. What he felt for Edward Elric
extended far past simple dislike.

Bradley had tried to be genial about it. He’d offered a quick and easy death via bullet and was
kind enough to throw in a promotion so that Elric could die with some dignity. But no. All
Elric wanted was to be the continuous thorn in Bradley’s side.

Maybe Bradley could’ve kept his graces about him had Mustang been able to keep a tighter
hold on Elric’s leash, but the Colonel couldn’t be trusted to do even that much. That made it
Bradley’s obligation to settle this nonsense himself, and Elric was no longer deserving of
something as kind as a bullet.

“I would first like to address the unrest which has arisen in response to Lieutenant Colonel
Elric’s speech yesterday. I understand the confusion and anger you all must feel, and I deeply
apologize for that. I should have seen this coming and prevented it, but I did not.

“You see, I was well-aware of what the Lieutenant Colonel thinks of me. I just also thought it
best to let him have that emotional outlet. In times like these, we often need someone to
blame: a place to direct our anger so that we don’t drown in the despair. He assigned me to be
that outlet, and I allowed it.

“As much as I’m not behind the chimera attacks—I can’t even perform alchemy—I don’t
want anyone to retain harsh feelings for Elric’s assumptions. He has done so much for this
country, and at such a young age, too. We’ve all seen the recent studies outlining the damage
exposure to violence can have on a child’s psyche. After two years of peace, it’s no wonder a
chimera sighting in Central is stirring up paranoia.

“He came to the wrong conclusion, yes, but what we should take from it is that he’s trying.
He wants to protect us, and he thinks this is the best way to do it. He, much like the rest of us,
is looking for a way to end the terrifying dilemma plaguing our beloved city. He is
scared, much like the rest of us, by the lack of leads. Not to mention the way his recent
bonding with Colonel Mustang must be influencing him.”

Bradley paused so the cameras could catch his sad, sympathetic smile.

“We’ve all been in love before. The need to please that beloved person can be overwhelming,
especially in times of crisis. I don’t doubt that Colonel Mustang had nothing to do with this
horrendous accusation, but I also don’t doubt that Elric assumed shining a bad light on me
would help to shine a good light on him. And to make a loved one happy—wouldn’t we all
go to extreme lengths for that particular brand of success?
“There have been whispers of Elric being treasonous, but that isn’t the case. His speech was
not a rally for rioting but a cry for help. A boy barely old enough to be considered a man has
lost his family, become suddenly bonded to a superior officer, and feels he must protect an
entire city without the pause necessary to resolve his own issues.

“What Elric needs is not our condemnation, but our help. I agree with him that these are
dangerous times, but we should not respond by placing blame. Let us take from Elric the
advice which all communities should strive to implement and band together! Identifying the
wrong source does not make him someone to disregard.”

Bradley leaned forward to relay his passion, and the crowd responded with cheers of
encouragement, love, and faith. They respected his empathy. They applauded his
understanding. They belonged to him. Elric’s mistake was in assuming that Bradley was just
the Führer. He was more than an elected leader. He was a God.

And this. This was his flock.

“I am here to assure you that my investment in this chimera situation is not a passing fancy. I
will be personally heading the investigation from here on out. I assure you that your safety
and the continuation of Central’s prosperity is and has always been my top priority.

“More than being citizens of Central or the people of Amestris, you are my people, and that
makes it my duty to do what’s best for you. For the sake of my country, I will make the
ultimate sacrifice and become the ultimate power. I will put more than my heart into the
cultivation of this great country.

“I offer my very soul.”

(***Intertwined***)

The Fullmetal Alchemist didn’t care about his reputation. Not only did he not care, he was so
focused on not caring that there was room for little else. Roy knew because he had been
trying to talk to the Fullmetal Alchemist about the issues his speech was already causing, and
the bull-headed Fullmetal Fucking Alchemist didn’t care.

It looked like being in love with Fullmetal didn’t make him any less irritating.

“You do realize that you now have the credibility of a child, right? An emotionally
vulnerable, easily manipulated child, at that.”

“Yep.”

“And you also realize how helpful it was to have the credibility of the Alchemist of the
People on our side, yes?”

“Sure do.”
“Then tell me, Fullmetal, how can you be so blasé about all of this?”

“Because it doesn’t matter. I don’t care, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t? Here I was, under the impression that me bonding myself to an emotionally
vulnerable, easily manipulated child might have some sort of negative impact on my
reputation. But I guess I was wrong. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“No problem.”

Roy cut himself off mid-sneer as he realized Fullmetal wasn’t being caustic. His tone wasn’t
biting or obnoxious. It was almost bland.

Roy leaned over Fullmetal’s shoulder to look at the array he was working on, and when
Fullmetal failed to move in either accommodation or rejection, he realized that he may as
well have been talking to himself for the past who-knew-how-long.

“Dammit, Fullmetal.” Roy backhanded Fullmetal’s bicep, causing the blonde to finally look
up.

“What?”

“Have you heard a single word I said?”

Golden eyes narrowed in a glare while frustratingly kissable lips curled in a sneer. That
fighting posture melted as he admitted, “Not a word.”

Roy heaved a sigh as he tried and failed to be angry. As much as Fullmetal’s obliviousness
was irritating, he wasn’t ignoring Roy on purpose. In fact, Roy would be surprised if
Fullmetal had realized he was there at all before being hit.

“I was just—we don’t look good right now, Fullmetal.”

“How’s that?”

“The Führer King has made you sound like a delusional child with no credibility and me
sound like a pedophile who’s taking advantage of your vulnerability.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Edward.”

“C’mon, Mustang. You’ve been going on about this ever since Brad’s stupid speech, and I
don’t care any more now than I did then. Can’t you just let me off the hook already?”

“No. I can’t. It’s my job to get it through your head that you can’t keep pulling stunts like this
and pretending there are no consequences.”

“Didn’t we already argue over this?”

“Yes.”

“Then isn’t it over already?”

“No. No, it is not over. We, as this whatever-we-are, have worked through your speech and
my anger over your speech. That doesn’t mean the rest of the world feels the same.”

“Who cares about them?”

“I do. I care. My reputation cares. My career cares. Our ability to implement procedures
cares. Without the intact reputation of the Alchemist of the People, everything gets infinitely
harder for us and infinitely easier for the Führer. Because if you’re seen as an emotionally
vulnerable child, then when you get into a dangerous situation—which you constantly do—
people stop expecting you to come back.”

Fullmetal’s purposefully obnoxious stare blinked blank for a second and a half before he
changed the topic. “What time is it?”

Roy rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock. “Almost six.”

Fullmetal hummed and turned back to his sketch. Roy decided to accept the distraction, for
now, if only to pave an easier road for their next few hours together.

So, instead of continuing to berate his bondmate, Roy asked, “Have you decided where we’re
going tonight or is that on me?”

When Fullmetal looked up again, it was in confusion. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Which made it Roy’s turn to look dumbfounded. “You said we had a date tonight.”

“No. I said I have a date tonight. It’s not my fault you assumed it was with you.”

Jealousy and disbelief made an ugly beast, and it snarled inside of Roy. “If not with me, then
whom?”

“Sorry. I don’t kiss and tell.”

The response was just snide enough to be considered obnoxious, and Roy was saved the
trouble of ripping away Fullmetal’s notebook for a full-on interrogation by the lock clicking
undone and Winry entering the house. Her hair was down, her overalls were replaced with a
blouse and miniskirt (though a wrench was still holstered at her hip), and a tasteful amount of
makeup highlighted her eyes.

Roy’s jealous anger was instantly soothed. “Your date is with Winry?”

“What can I say, Mustang? Maybe I’m really into blondes, too.” Edward closed his book with
a soft clap and stood. He proceeded to ignore Roy in favor of observing Winry. Instead of
starting off with how pretty she looked, he said, “The hell are you wearing?”
Part of Roy balked at the lack of finesse while another, larger part thanked the Gate that
Edward was as blunt and tactless as a battering ram.

Winry scowled. “I look hot, you jerk.”

Fullmetal scowled back. “I mean, ish. I guess if you weren’t, you know, you then you could
look hot.”

“Al thinks I looks hot.”

“Al doesn't know how fucking uncomfortable miniskirts are.”

Winry scoffed. Roy’s thoughts stuttered to a halt before whirlwinding with images of
Fullmetal in a miniskirt. He re-entered their conversation with a casual, “When you say you
know how uncomfortable they are, I assume you mean Winry told you?”

Winry barked out a laugh. “He wishes.”

“Then you’ve . . . ”

Fullmetal’s brows scrunched like he wasn’t sure what this had to do with anything. He
answered anyway. “Yeah. Back when I was thirteen or maybe fourteen I had this mission in
Pendleton over a slave trading ring. The only people who could get inside their HQ to check
it out were the guys in charge and pretty girls. I figured infiltrating would be easier than
going in blind, so I dressed up.”

“And they just didn’t notice your automail?”

“I played the schoolgirl card. The high-stockings covered my leg, and the blazer and gloves
covered my arm. My hair’s long enough to be a chick’s, and with a little makeup, I was just
another girl for them to sell. Easy in, easy out.” Fullmetal turned back to Winry with a
judgmental frown. “Super fucking uncomfortable though. You can’t fight or run in them for
shit.”

Winry rolled her eyes. “He makes it sound all heroic, but I think he just wanted to try on a
skirt.”

“You’re just jealous because I look better in one than you do.”

“Yeah right. You’ve got thighs like tree trunks.”

“Amazing tree trunks.” Edward cocked his hip while Winry stuck out her tongue. Roy
opened his mouth only for Edward to shove his notebook against Roy’s chest with just a bit
more force than necessary. “And before you make some smartass comment about my
masculinity, fuck you. I look great in a dress.”

Roy would bet he did.

Edward proceeded to stalk over to Winry and ask, “You ready?”

She nodded amicably and re-opened the door. Roy spoke up before they could leave. “Any
chance you still have that outfit?”

Edward flipped up his middle finger and left, but Roy was content to trade their date for this
information. The thought of Edward, who oozed masculinity and strength, grinding on Roy in
a dress that accented his broad shoulders, trim waist, and the obscenity of his erection was
very high on Roy’s list of fantasies. Whether the blonde realized it or not, the knowledge that
Edward was already confident enough to wear women’s clothes opened up a lot of doors for
their sex life.

And if the answer was “not,” Roy would love to fix that.

(***Intertwined***)

“Why do I have to pay for this?”

“Because you used up half my stock when you broke your last arm.”

“So? I bought that stuff, too.”

“Yeah. Because it’s for you.”

“Is this stuff for me?”

“Even more important. It’s for me.”

Ed scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest as she reached into his cloak for his
wallet. It was during this interaction that Winry started to think maybe things were going to
be okay.

Ed had been acting odd around her ever since the stupid promotional ceremony, and she
knew why. He was always blaming himself for things he couldn’t help and taking on
responsibilities that weren’t his. And now, finally, he was starting to argue again.

Most people didn’t like when Ed argued with them. He was angry and bull-headed and
infuriatingly smart in the worst of ways. He was damn-near impossible to win an argument
against even on his worst days, and the wins usually felt like losses.

The thing to know about Ed was that he was only rough on the outside. Inside he was just as
soft and kind and sweet and emotional as Al. The problem was that when he showed all that
gooey sweetness, things were going wrong.

If Ed was arguing, things weren’t going wrong.

“Is there even room at Maes’s place for all this?”

“He has a garage. And unlike some people I know, he’s selfless enough to let me use it.”

“Maybe I just don’t like all this useless junk cluttering up my space.”

“It’s not useless junk.”

“You’ve already got two of every wrench in existence. You don’t need another set. And how
many bras can you possibly buy? You can only wear one at a time.”

“Ugh. You’re such a guy! I need different bras for different occasions and to match my
outfits.”

“Why the hell do they need to match your clothes? No one can see them.”

Winry sniffed haughtily. “Al likes them.”

“Al would like you in a burlap sack. Or overalls .”

Ed’s voice took on an obnoxious tone that made Winry relax even more. “And for that
comment, you can buy me dinner, too.”

“Was not buying you dinner ever an option?”

Winry returned Ed’s unamused stare with a sweet smile. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so. Where are we eating?”

“There’s a burger joint down the road. I hear they have great shakes.”

“Sweet. Mustang never keeps ice cream at home.”

They both froze.

“Home?”

“The house.”

Winry tried to catch Ed’s eyes, but he kept his attention firmly on the passing shops. She
swallowed around the lump in her throat as she processed his slip-up. Ed, for all his traveling
and all the places he’d stayed, had never once called any of them home. Even Granny’s house
(Winry’s and Al’s home now) was never home to him.

They entered the diner, and Ed immediately focused his attention on the menu.

Winry waited all of five seconds to push his menu to the table. “You called it home.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did!”

“But I didn’t mean to! That place isn’t my—I don’t have a home.”
Winry’s heart ached as she said, “You could though.”

“Leave it, Win.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

“I said leave it.”

“No. I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s—it’s good, Ed.”

“I’m not like anything. It was a slip of the tongue. Mustang and I aren’t . . . We aren’t even
together.”

“You’re not?”

Ed leaned back with arrogant triumph in his posture. “Nope.”

Winry hated that Ed was a terrible liar because she couldn’t pretend he was lying. It wasn’t
just that she was pissed at herself for thinking there was magic stirring between Ed and
Mustang when there wasn’t, either. She wanted Ed to have someone for himself. She wanted
him to have someone to hold and to turn to in times of need, and she wanted that now.

Because the times of need kept getting bigger and closer, and Winry was terrified of what
would happen if they came down on Ed alone.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Well, you’ll tell me if you guys do start going out, right?”

Ed’s brows raised to his hairline as he shrugged. “I guess. Why’s it matter?”

“Because . . . Because you always used to ask Granny to take care of us. Now I’m going to
take care of Al when you go off on your missions, and he’s going to take care of me. And
maybe you don’t care, but I’d sure as hell like knowing someone’s going to be there to take
care of you, too.”

Ed’s response was to crack a roguish grin, and he was handsome.

There was Al’s handsome, which was sweet and well-presented and charming, and there was
Ed’s handsome, which was strong and dependable and heroic.

Winry loved Ed as more than a brother. She loved him as a hero. He was the one who
protected her from bullies and sent Granny checks so they could keep their home. He was the
one who treated her as an equal when all the other kids cast her out for being different (or in
Al’s case, held her closer for love-at-first-sight). He could go up against anything and
everything and come back intact.
That was why when Ed said, “I’ll be fine. I always am.” Winry believed him. Maybe not
because she should, but because it was true. Ed was always fine. He always did scary things
and always came back with amazing stories of triumphing over evil. Ed couldn’t die because
heroes never died, and Ed, above all else, was a hero.

He would be fine.

He would be fine.

He would be fine.

(***Intertwined***)

Roy was tired. He could comfortably function on five hours of sleep most days, but five
hours of sleep followed by a night of touching Edward and then a day of dealing with
Fullmetal left him tired. So instead of going to bed at two in the morning, Roy turned in at
ten.

He woke up when he heard his bedroom door creak open, but as much as he loved touching
his bondmate, he was tired. His eyelids were heavy, and he knew the day ahead would be
grueling. So instead of reacting to Fullmetal’s presence, he stayed still.

Fullmetal entered the room and crawled onto the bed but not under the covers. He didn’t
touch Roy. “You awake, Mustang?” Fullmetal’s voice, usually loud and gruff, was barely
above a whisper. Roy, who was about to turn over and open his eyes, stilled when Fullmetal
continued, “If you are, you’d better fucking say so now because I’ve never really uh—never
talked about any of this before. I don’t want to talk to you if you can hear me.”

That, of course, convinced Roy to pretend he was sleeping. After a few minutes of non-
response, Edward spoke again.

“ I know what I’m doing, okay? You think I don’t know how to deal with having the
reputation of a child or not being credible or people not expecting me to come back, but
you’re wrong. Because I got into this life when I was twelve. My first mission was to track
and kill a chimera, and I hadn’t uh, I’d never even thrown a punch before.

“ I didn’t think I was going to come back. Nobody who assigned me to that mission thought I
was going to come back. And I was . . . scared. I was so scared.” Edward took a deep breath.
“I’ve never said that before.” He paused for what felt like too long before admitting, “I hate
myself for saying it now. I don’t—I don’t deserve to be scared. I almost killed my little
brother. I almost killed . . . killed the kindest, sweetest, most amazing person on the planet. I
don’t get to be forgiven for that. I don’t get to be scared.”

Edward sniffled in a way that meant he was either crying or trying not to cry. Roy did his best
not to react.
“After a while, I stopped being scared, but it wasn’t because I thought I had a better chance at
living. It was because I realized that I should’ve died a long time ago. Every minute I live is a
minute where I get to attempt to make up for my mistakes. Al though, he has everything to
live for. He’s always had everything to live for. He deserves it. And if I die then he gets a
stipend to live off of until he graduates. Equivalent exchange.

“That was always fine because I didn’t have a future. I didn’t have friends or a home or a
bondmate. There was nothing to look forward to, so there was nothing to lose. But now I’m
starting to think—to th-think that—”

Edward’s breath shook as he tried to pull himself together.

“God damn it. I’m starting to think that I might have a . . . if not a future than a chance at one.
Like I could keep sparring with Greeling and theorizing with Al and having dinner at
Namae’s and—and like we could see where this whatever-it-is can go. I deserve to be shot
just for thinking about having a—a future after all that I’ve done, but that’s exactly what I’m
doing.

“Because I’ve never wanted to die, but I’ve never really uh, never wanted to live, either.
Never thought I was allowed. But now . . . now I’m scared again.” Edward’s humorless laugh
bordered on tragic. “It feels like I’m damning myself just by admitting it, even if you aren’t
really listening. And I’m about to damn myself further, but if I only get one chance to say it
before I die, then I want to say it. And I want it to be to you.”

Edward’s shaky breaths quickened to something just short of hyperventilation before he

whispered, “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I can say this. I can say it.”

Another deep breath.

“I want to live.”

Then Fullmetal was really crying. His sobs were choked back and his breaths came in harsh,
quick pants. Roy felt the bed tremble beneath Edward’s sorrow just as he felt hot tears
burning trails down his own cheeks.

He pretended to sleep.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed woke up to soft kisses along his jaw-line.

He opened his eyes to see Mustang’s stupidly handsome face leaning over him, and the
butterflies that stupidly handsome face induced weren’t something Ed was proud of.

Mustang’s lips met Ed’s with a gentleness rivaled only by the way his hand caressed Ed’s
face. Like Ed was something precious. It was foreign, and it lit nervous fireworks in his
chest. Ed initially thought Mustang was over-compensating for Ed's late-night breakdown,
but there was a distinct lack of damnation in onyx eyes.

Mustang must not have heard him then.

Ed threaded his fingers into soft black locks and tried to deepen the kiss, but Mustang wasn’t
having it. He kept his kisses light and his caresses soft. He cradled Ed in an embrace made of
all the warmth and protection Ed had yearned for as a child. That Ed still yearned for.

Mustang’s butterfly soft kisses trailed down Ed’s neck, but instead of continuing down his
chest to his dick, they concentrated on the junction of Ed’s chest and automail. Gentle, caring
fingers ghosted over the fresh scars on Ed’s chest before touching on the old ones.

The stab wounds, the burn marks, the teeth indents, the claws and the fingernails and the
scrapes from all the people and events trying to drag him under. Mustang caressed them like
they were gems instead of scars.

Flesh fingers intertwined with automail, which Ed couldn’t technically feel but somehow
found infinitely more touching than flesh-on-flesh. Mustang’s other hand ghosted over Ed’s
hip to reach the junction of flesh and automail on his thigh. He stroked the scarring with just
enough pressure to be considered adoring, and the whatever-it-was that Ed felt for Mustang
blossomed all over again.

Ed tried to reel his feelings back in by distracting his apparent lover. “Mustang. What’s
gotten into you?”

Mustang responded by moving his kisses from the metal-flesh union on Ed’s shoulder down
to the similar junction on Ed’s thigh. He released Ed’s automail hand to skim over the scar on
Ed’s side while the hand previously on Ed’s thigh slid down his automail leg. As though it
were real. As though Ed could feel it. As though Mustang found his automail just as
attractive as his flesh.

“Mustang—”

Mustang flipped Ed onto his stomach with painfully attractive ease before continuing his
treatment on the back of Ed’s thigh. The hand not on Ed’s automail leg explored the scars
littering Ed’s flesh leg and upper thigh. Ed craned his neck to watch Mustang’s sweet, gentle
exploration but otherwise felt inexplicably frozen.

Mustang barely touched Ed’s ass as he moved again, kissing a line from Ed’s lower back up
to his automail shoulder. He put no weight on Ed, but he hovered close enough for Ed to feel
his body heat. One warm hand caressed Ed from his automail leg up to his lower back before
curving around Ed’s waist to bring him even closer.

Then the hand on his waist started exploring the scars on his back while the hand on his thigh
moved back to Ed’s automail hand to re-twine their fingers. Mustang’s lips eventually left
Ed’s automail to pepper the back of Ed’s neck with kisses. Those kisses trailed into Ed’s hair
as Mustang moved his other hand to twine with Ed’s flesh fingers. The pressure on his flesh
hand was gentle, likely to avoid harming his still-healing knuckles.
Once both their hands were connected and Mustang’s body weightlessly blanketed Ed’s,
Mustang pressed his lips to Ed’s temple. His breath was hot on the shell of Ed’s ear, and
Mustang sounded more sensual than anyone had any right to be as he said, “Good morning,
Fullmetal.”

Ed arched up against Mustang and was rewarded by Mustang finally allowing his formidable
weight to press down. That weight—the sturdiness and strength—made Ed feel like he hadn’t
slipped up when calling this place home.

“Morning.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About us. About this whatever-we-are.”

“I’m not dating you.”

Mustang smiled against Ed’s skin. “Well I’m not dating anyone else. And I’m not saying we
have to pick a label. I’m fine with us having a whatever-this-is. But I would like some
guidelines.”

Ed groaned, already disliking where this was going. “Guidelines?”

“Like how I can treat you in public and what I’m allowed to do in private. Can I kiss you in
front of our friends? Do I have to ask before I kiss you? Can I crawl into bed with you if you
fall asleep in the library? Am I allowed to buy you expensive books for no reason? How
many times am I allowed to point out how attractive you are before you tell me to shut up? Is
there any chance you’ll kiss me first any time soon?”

Ed huffed, half-tempted to ignore the questions just so he could avoid the self-searching and
moving-forward that inevitably accompanied defining any part of their relationship.

“Hands off where people can see, and we’ll figure it out as we go everywhere else. In front of
friends is okay, but don’t go overboard. No, you don’t have to ask. Yeah, but only if you
don’t fuck up my system. And yes, there’s a system. I don’t give a damn about how much
money you’ve got, but it’s not like I’m going to turn down a nice book if you’re handing it to
me. Zero times.” Ed hesitated. “Maybe once or twice, if you’re really feeling it and no one
else is around. And yeah. There’s probably a pretty good chance I’ll initiate a kiss sometime
soon.”

Before Mustang could respond, Ed made some guidelines of his own.

“Our conversations can be more than you listening to me talk about alchemic theory. I’m
willing to listen to you talk about your political schemes and military problems and whatever.
I’m never going to cook, and I usually don’t know what day it is, so don’t bother with stupid
shit like anniversaries. I won’t remember. I’m willing to tell you how
ridiculously, unfairly handsome you are when you aren’t being an ass, which I guess is right
now, so there you go.

“I don’t love you—hell, I hardly even like you most of the time—and you can’t expect I’m
going to love you anytime soon. Or ever. I don’t know if I’m capable. And you don’t get to
judge me for not being able to feel that way. You just don’t, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ed nodded. He didn’t know exactly how to feel about Mustang’s gentle, understanding
acceptance, so he brushed it off as nothing and continued, “I’m not going to start calling you
Roy, either. You aren’t a Roy. You’re a Mustang.”

“Because of how rideable I am?”

Ed tried to elbow Mustang but the angle was all wrong and he hit air. “Because of what an
ass you are. Roys are stay-at-home dads and gardeners and all-around nice guys. You’re
Mustang. You’re a conniving son of a bitch who’s clawing his way up the social ladder with
fake smiles, manipulative speeches, and expensive, meaningless gifts to influential people
you hate. You’re a bastard, and that’s why you’re Mustang.”

Mustang hummed as he pressed his nose into the crook of Ed’s neck and snuggled closer.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you sound pretty fond of me.”

“I’m more fond of you when you aren’t talking.”

Mustang chuckled. “What do you say we call in sick today? We could stay here, like this. No
talking necessary.”

“We can’t. I’ve got to go to the park today for the volunteer sign-up thing.”

“School then. Skip class with me.”

“You aren’t smart enough to miss class.”

“Study with me then.”

“It’s hardly studying if I already know the material.”

“How about tutoring? You’d make a great tutor.”

“I’m a shitty tutor.” Ed closed his eyes as he accepted that he really didn’t want this doting
version of Mustang to go away just yet. He conceded, “But I could try.”

Ed felt Mustang grin against his temple and turned his face into the pillow to hide his own
smile.

“How kind.”

Ed squeezed Mustang’s hands. “No talking, remember?”

 Mustang hugged Ed more firmly but otherwise didn’t respond, and Ed turned to catch
Mustang with a quick kiss. It was warm and soft and safe.

It felt like home.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 30
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ed cracked his neck in hopes of relieving the crick that came with filling out forms all day.
He’d expected a lot of people would want to help out with the self-defense lessons on
Saturday, but the sheer number of volunteers was kind of astounding. He was lucky Mustang
had predicted as much and sent his team over or Ed would’ve been screwed.

Not that he’d ever tell Mustang as much, but still.

Now that the day was winding down, Ed could appreciate just how much fun it’d been to
work with Mustang’s unit. They functioned like a well-oiled machine, barely needing a shout
to figure out what was needed and where. It certainly helped that all the laziness of the office
disappeared when they stepped outside.

Well, as long as there was work to do, at least.

“Oh my god, that took forever.” Havoc flopped onto the grass. “Do me a favor, Fullmetal,
and next time you want to organize something, give us some notice first.”

Ed grinned. “I’ll try.”

Fuery waved a dismissive hand in Havoc’s direction. “No need. Did you see how many
people volunteered? I’ve organized events with months of notice and gotten less of a
turnout.”

“Yeah, well the notice isn’t for them.” Breda groaned as he sat down next to Havoc. “It’s
for us.”

Ed scratched the back of his head. “My bad, my bad. I am seriously thankful though. You
guys are life savers.”

Falman leaned tiredly against a tree as he responded, “Without you here, we wouldn’t even
have been able to talk to at least a dozen volunteers. Just how many languages do you
know?”

“Fluently? Five. Amestrian, Xerxecian, Latin, Aerugonian, and Xingese. I’m learning
Drachmanese, but not a lot of alchemic theories come from Drachma, so it’s not a priority.”

Ed shrugged because it didn’t matter while Breda laughed. “And here I thought I did well to
learn how to curse in Xingese.”

Ed chuckled as he said, “Every time I learn a new language, I start with fuck.”

“A man after my own heart.”

Fuery cut in with an admiring, “I uh, I know Xingese since that’s the second most common
language in Amestris, but my accent’s definitely not the best. Think we could have a
conversation some time? For practice?”

Ed responded, “My accent’s shit,” in Xingese.

Fuery, in turn, replied, “Better than mine,” and Ed agreed. The grammar was spot-on, but it
was overly-formal and he was butchering the enunciation.

“You know who you should talk with? Al. You could learn a lot from each other.” Ed
grinned, giving away what he thought of Fuery’s accent even without Fuery being in on the
joke.

Breda cut in with a faux-offended, “Some of us don’t speak Xingese, so if you guys could
Amestrian it up, we’d really appreciate it.”

“He’s right.” Falman nodded sagely. “Otherwise we’ll start assuming you’re talking about
us.”

“Yeah? Well, you’d assume right. Fucking bastards.”

Both Fuery and Breda laughed.

Havoc moaned as he stretched out, uncaring of the conversation going on without him, and
said, “Man, this is so nice. Sitting here in the sunshine, hanging out with the guys, no
Hawkeye to tell us to get back to work.”

“Speaking of Hawkeye . . .” Fuery’s tone turned teasing. “What’s with you and her lately?”

“What? I—nothing.”

“Oh, come on. You guys have had this weird air around you for days.”

Breda snorted. “You mean Havoc’s had a weird air around him for days. Hawkeye’s just
fine.”

Ed raised both brows, mildly impressed. “You and Hawkeye?”

“What? I—no! No. We’re not—it’s not like that. I don’t, and she doesn’t, and you guys are
stupid.” Havoc lit another cigarette to punctuate what Ed guessed was supposed to be a
defense.

Breda wasn’t deterred. “We’re stupid? You’re the one crushing on Hawkeye. She is so out of
your league.”

“Well don’t say that.” Fuery shifted in the grass, nervous and placating. “She’s not out of his
league. She’s just, you know, Hawkeye.”

Havoc frowned around his cigarette. “I know who she is.”

“Then you know how crazy it is.” Falman’s tone was sympathetic. “Hawkeye doesn’t share a
lot, but she’s pretty clear about how much she cares for her reputation. She isn’t going to give
that up for a date. Especially not with someone she works with.”

The glances the other men sent to Falman and then to Havoc said they hadn’t intended for
their teasing to turn real. Breda tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Got any advice for
him Fullmetal?”

“I already gave him advice, and that was to ask her out.”

“Right. So you got him into this mess. It’s time you got him out.”

“Why’s it have to be me?”

“Who else? You managed to get Mustang to stop sleeping around. You’re practically a
relationship guru.”

Ed scoffed. “Wouldn’t call myself that. Mustang and I aren’t even dating.”

Disbelief muddled the air. Havoc sat up. “No way you and the boss man aren’t a thing.”

Ed grimaced. “Well, we are a . . . thing. Just not a dating thing.”

“Are you exclusive?”

“He says he’s not dating anyone else.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know what I say.”

Fuery laughed. “That’s a first.”

“Hey now. I do alchemy, not relationships.”

Havoc puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Life would be a hell of a lot easier if everything could
be solved with alchemy.”

“Yeah.” Fuery’s sigh was wistful. “Well, if anyone can make a circle capable of solving
relationship issues, it’s Fullmetal.”

Falman nodded. “I second that notion. He could create the perfect array and earn millions
painting it anywhere and everywhere.”

Havoc groaned and stretched. “Sounds like a lot of work. If he’s got an array that can solve
any and all relationship fuck-ups, he should just put a big one right over Central. Then
anyone could use it, right?”

Havoc looked at Ed for confirmation while Fuery asked whether the array would be able to
help fix almost-relationships, too. Ed barely heard it. His peripheral vision blackened, his
heartbeat sped, and the entire world slid sideways.

He was on his feet and racing to Central Command before the world resettled. He didn’t hear
them shouting after him. He didn’t check to see if they were following. He just ran.

His feet took him to Mustang’s branch as fast as they physically could. He turned into the
room too quickly, boots sliding against the tile as he shot to Falman’s desk. The map stared
up at him, a death sentence in ink. He picked up a pen, stomach churning, and started
connecting the dots.

Why hadn’t he seen this before?

“—al. Fullmetal. Edward, stop. Stop!” A hand on Ed’s arm jerked him away from the map
and the half-finished array overlapping the red dots. “What are you—”

Mustang stopped as he finally saw what Ed was working on, and all the anxiety that had been
building in Ed’s chest came rushing out. “Goddamn it. I’m so fucking stupid! Why didn’t
I see this?”

“Fullmetal, what is this, exactly?”

“God fucking . . . Fuck!”

Mustang’s grip on Ed’s arm tightened to a painful extent, forcing Ed’s attention back to him.
“Focus, Fullmetal.”

Ed looked past Mustang to see his unit, sweating and out of breath. Worried. They didn’t
know. No one knew. Why hadn’t he seen?

“Hey. Look at me.” Mustang tugged on Ed again. His voice lowered to a soothing whisper. “I
need you to focus, okay? What is this?”

Mustang motioned to the map, which dragged Ed right back into his spiral. A gentle hand on
his cheek forced his attention back a third time. Once Ed finally, finally met Mustang’s eyes,
the fear broke free.

His voice cracked as he said, “It’s an array.”

“I can see that, Fullmetal.”

“Can you? Because I don’t think you can. It’s an array. These dots. These crimes. These
murders. They connect to make an array! Do you understand? There is an array written
in blood covering Central City, and we’re in the middle of it! Do you see that?”

“Edward, I really need you to calm down, alright? Calm down for me for just a couple of
minutes, and tell me what this array is for.”

Ed pulled away, already hating himself for the wonderful morning he’d spent with Mustang
instead of figuring this out. “You don’t see it.”
Mustang’s calm never wavered. “Help me see it, Edward.”

Ed groaned and took purposefully deep breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating. “It’s
for the stone. The philosopher’s stone. The one that can perform alchemy without equivalent
exchange.”

“Alright. Good. You’re doing good. What does that mean for us?”

“The books, they . . . They all say the stone needs a soul. Once the array’s done. Once it’s
activated, it’ll take it.”

“A soul?”

“No! God fucking damn it, no. Arrays like this don’t discriminate. It only wants one specific
soul, yes, but it’ll take . . . It’ll take . . .” Ed clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.
Mustang stared into Ed’s eyes, worried but still not understanding. Ed’s terror and panic
flatlined into numbness, and he swallowed around the fear of defeat as he put the truth out
into the world. “It’ll take them all.”

(***Intertwined***)

After Fullmetal’s breakthrough-bordering-on-breakdown, he pulled himself together. He took

over Falman’s job marking every single incident the Führer may have had a hand in, and he
did it at hyper speed. Hours of flipping through records and marking the map, and he never
complained. He never even looked up.

Mustang had assured them this changed nothing. They still had to stop the Führer, and they
still had to do it ASAP. All knowing the Führer's plan meant was that they could better
prepare.

The way that Fullmetal sat in the middle of the office floor, surrounded by books, single-
mindedly marking that map made Jean feel otherwise. That was why they were still in the
office—why they were all still in the office—doing work that they had previously thought
could wait until tomorrow. They didn’t even need Hawkeye keeping them on track.

It was nearing nine when a knock on the door and the smell of food broke through the quiet
concentration of the room. Jean glanced up before going back to his work. He hadn’t ordered
anything.

Mustang answered the knock and paid. He got seven take-out boxes, six of which he left on
Fuery’s desk and one he took to his office. Everyone but Fullmetal got the message and went
to get a box.

Jean leaned against Fuery’s desk while biting into his burger. “Oh my god. This is so good.”
The burger was incredible, which meant it cost way more than Jean usually spent on work
dinners. And that was technically a bad sign because any time Mustang tried to encourage
them with subtleties, it was because things were worse than he wanted to say. Not that he
could make the possibility of everyone getting their souls sucked out not bad, but he could
certainly make it seem worse.

“Wow! It really is.” Fuery spoke with his mouth full. “You think this is because Fullmetal’s
here?”

Falman craned his neck to better look at Fullmetal before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.
It doesn’t look like Fullmetal even realizes there’s food.”

“Should we tell him?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “He wants to work. Let him work.”

Despite saying that, Hawkeye picked up Fullmetal’s box and set it beside him when she
finished eating. Fullmetal either ignored it or didn’t notice.

Jean’s staring was interrupted by Breda gently nudging his shoulder. “You’ve got to get this
shit under control or she’s going to catch on.”

“I know, I know. But it’s hard. I mean, have you ever noticed how nice she is before?”

“Yeah. I always notice how the sunlight hits her hair as she threatens to shoot me.” Breda’s
deadpan crumbled to laughter halfway through his sentence.

Jean shushed him. “Shut up! She’ll hear you.” They both paused to look at Hawkeye, who
was still oblivious at her desk. “And it isn’t about how her hair looks. It’s about how much
she cares. She puts in double the work of any of the rest of us, and not because she’s earning
brownie points. She just cares.” Jean heard how badly he was mooning even as it came out of
his mouth. He covered it up with a cough. “And I think it’s pretty cool. That’s all.”

Fuery snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Oh shut up. Don’t any of you know how to be supportive?”

“Nope.”

“Sure don’t.”

“I do.” Falman smiled. “But if I’m supportive, you might start to think I care, and I don’t
know if I can handle you looking at me like you do Hawkeye.”

Fuery and Breda cracked up while Jean rolled his eyes and finished his food. “Real nice,
guys.”

He walked away from Fuery’s desk before they could heckle him again. Luckily, that was the
same moment Mustang left his office, and a single glance at the people still eating sent them
scurrying back to their desks, too.
Jean tried to be inconspicuous as he watched Mustang approach Fullmetal, but apparently
inconspicuous wasn’t his forte, so he didn’t try too hard. Mustang tapped on Fullmetal’s
shoulder.

Fullmetal glanced up just to go back to his work again. “What?”

“Did you eat?”

“I’ve been here the whole time, Mustang. When would I have eaten?”

Mustang kicked the box of food closer to Fullmetal, who furrowed his brows and flipped
open the lid.

“Huh. Thanks, I guess.” He went back to his map without touching the food.

“Fullmetal, you need to eat.”

“I will.”

“Soon.”

“Mhm. Hey, you busy right now?”

“Busy is a relative term. What do you need?”

“Information on the war. I’m beginning to think there’s a circle drawn over Ishval, too.”

Mustang stilled, and everyone other than Fullmetal stilled with him. Then Mustang raised a
hand and gestured Hawkeye over. “Hawkeye was in Ishval, too. Just tell us what you want to
know.”

“Thanks.”

Instead of moving the map into Mustang’s office, the Colonel sat cross-legged on the floor.
Hawkeye followed suit. They talked and pointed and discussed for hours, and when they
were done, only Hawkeye got up and returned to her desk. Mustang kept trading information
with Fullmetal while gesturing to the map.

It was well-past midnight when Mustang stood and motioned for everyone to wrap it up. Jean
sighed and rubbed his eyes, thankful for the unexpectedly long workday to reach its end.

In the time it took Mustang to go back into his office and grab his coat, everyone else had
packed and prepared to leave. Mustang stopped by Fullmetal, who was still looking through
records, and gently kicked him. “Time to go home, Fullmetal.”

“Go ahead without me.”

“What?”

“I’d just be working on this there if I went, so I may as well stay here.”
“Do you need me to . . . ?”

“Nah. You’re tired. Go sleep.”

“I’m fine. If you need me to stay, I can stay.”

Fullmetal looked up at Mustang with his signature you’re-an-idiot expression. “You know,
you do this thing with your shoulders when you’re tired. Like, you always have good posture,
but when you get tired, you stand extra tall and square your shoulders in hopes that no one
will notice you’re about to fall asleep on your feet.”

Mustang frowned. “Goodnight, Fullmetal.”

Fullmetal hummed noncommittally as he re-focused on the records in front of him, and

Mustang turned to leave. It was during that interaction that Jean realized Fullmetal had never
touched his food. Fullmetal, who was known to have a voracious appetite at the best of times,
was going hungry.

The unease in Jean’s stomach twisted.

That unease was what pressed Jean to walk to Hawkeye’s car instead of his own. When she
rolled down the window and raised expectant brows, it was the unease that made him tell the
truth. Because if they were going to get their souls sucked out any day now, he didn’t have
time to waste.

“Do you want to go out with me some time?”

“Excuse me?”

“Go out. Like on a date.” Jean hesitated, then clarified. “With me.”

“Why?”

“I just—I want to date you. Or if not date-date you then go on one date with you. At least one
date. For the experience. Not that you’re an experience to be had. Or not—not that going out
with you wouldn’t be an experience. Just that you’re not just an experience. You’re more than
that.”

“Did Breda put you up to this?”

“Breda? What? No. This isn’t some prank. I really want to take you on a date. You know
what? It doesn’t even have to be in public. We can have a secret date. I won’t tell anyone, not
even Breda. And I tell him everything. Well not, everything-everything, but you get it.”

Hawkeye, unfortunately, only managed to look amused. “Do I?”

“Yes. Yes, you do. Because you’re Hawkeye, and you get everything. Now could you just tell
me if you want to go on a secret date with me? Or a public date because you’re above caring
about what others think. Or a secret date because you work really hard for your reputation,
and you deserve the respect that comes with it.
“Or a public date because there are no such things as leagues, which means you can’t be out
of mine. Or a secret date because you do believe in leagues, in which case you’re definitely
out of mine. Or a public date because you’re amazing and deserve someone who’s going to
show off how amazing you are. Or—or a secret date because . . . just because.”

Jean finished lamely, and Hawkeye’s lips twisted in an amused smile that made Jean feel all
kinds of rejected.

“Goodnight, Havoc.”

“I, uh, yeah. Night, Hawkeye.”

Jean stepped away so she could roll up her window and leave. He stuffed his hands in his
pockets and tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. Then he was alone.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed could admit he was kind of tired. He hadn’t been getting fantastic amounts of sleep lately,
and this all-nighter certainly hadn’t helped. Luckily, when Mustang reappeared at 5:30 AM,
he came with coffee.

The coffee was just the way Ed liked it (more sugar and cream than actual coffee), and he
nearly moaned before gulping half of it down in one go.

“Did you even take a nap?”

“No. But I did finish.”

Ed grinned while Mustang crouched next to him and observed the red-dot and array covered
map. After a long pause Mustang said, “The arrays are different.”

“Yeah. They’re from two different books. I think something must’ve gone wrong in Ishval, so
they’re trying a new one here.”

“New how?”

“The Ishval array is focused toward feeding souls into it. Every time a person died after the
array was completed, more than a life was lost. I assume they just hoped the right soul would
die and properly activate the circle.”

“Properly?”

“Every death technically activated it, siphoning the soul away, but without the right soul it
couldn’t fulfill its purpose and create the stone.”

“Is it still active?”

“Huh? No. I mean, it was probably active for a while after the war ended, but that huge-ass
earthquake five years ago would have cracked the connection.”

Mustang’s lips thinned as he stared at the array, and Ed could understand the nausea no doubt
curdling Mustang's stomach. Ed had been dealing with it himself all night.

“And the one over Central City?”

“It’s more complicated. It won’t activate until the right soul is in the circle, but when it does
activate, it won’t be able to tell which soul the right one is. So it’ll take them all.”

“And this ‘right soul,’ it’s . . .?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like we have a way to differentiate souls from one another. A quality
soul versus a regular soul? I don’t even know what that means. And if it’s not a natural
differentiation of souls then it’s a differentiation made by the alchemist, in this case Brad. To
understand what will set off the circle, we’ve got to figure out either what every other
alchemist has been trying to decipher for the last thousand years or what that soulless bastard
thinks makes a person special. So uh, yeah. I don’t know.”

Mustang placed an encouraging hand on Ed's shoulder as he stood, sending a wave of

contentment through both their Cores. “You’re doing great, Fullmetal.”

Ed hummed, far from happy with their current progress.

Mustang went on, “When are you heading to the park?”

“Soon. I’m dropping by Namae’s place first.”

“Do you need a lift?”

“No.”

“Why are you going to Namae’s?”

“They deserve to know.” Ed rolled up the map for travel. “The timeline of the array’s
creation. The reason for the battle where Namae lost his brother. The fact that the array
stayed active for years after the war. They just deserve to know.”

Ed shrugged off the bitterness he felt curling around him and stood. Mustang, in turn,
dangled a set of keys in front of his face. “Take my car.”

“What?”

“Namae lives at least ten kilometers from here, Edward. Swallow your pride and drive.”

Ed sneered. “Do I look like I know how to drive?”

“Honestly? At this point I just assume you know everything until proven otherwise.”
“Yeah, well this is me proving otherwise.” Ed batted the keys away. “Besides, I could use the
run. I prefer to do cardio before sparring.”

Mustang pocketed his keys and leaned down to capture Ed’s lips in a sweet, chaste kiss that
lasted nowhere near long enough. By the time Ed blinked out of his Mustang-induced stupor,
the Colonel was already halfway to his office.

“Hold up. What was that for?”

“Because I can.”

On another day, the thought of Mustang wanting to kiss Ed just because he could may have
caused Ed’s stomach to do a pleasant flip. Today, however, he just wondered if Mustang
wasn’t wasting his time.

Mustang appeared to have no such worries as he shut the door to his office.

It wasn’t that Ed still doubted Mustang’s awareness of their situation. Mustang knew, and for
whatever reason liked, Ed. If he wanted to waste his kisses on Ed (now that Ed consented),
that was his choice.

So it wasn’t Ed’s place to feel guilty about whether or not Mustang would regret the way he
spent his kisses later. He knew Ed’s past, and he knew the likelihood of Ed’s future fatality. If
Ed died and Mustang regretted ever kissing him, it wasn't any of Ed's business. And if
Mustang looked back, years from now, and wished he had spent his kisses on someone who
could still be standing next to him, that was on Mustang. Not Ed.

It wasn’t his fault, so he couldn’t feel guilty.

He didn’t feel guilty.

Ed licked his lips and left.

(***Intertwined***)

To say Namae was surprised to find Edward at his door at seven in the morning would be an
understatement. He’d agreed to help teach self-defense later that day, yes, but he thought
they’d be meeting at the park.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Namae stepped aside, and Edward walked into the house. He was sweating.

Namae glanced outside for his vehicle. “Did you walk here?”
“Call it a morning jog.”

Edward strode into the kitchen, leaving Namae trailing behind like he was the guest. By the
time Namae joined him, Edward was already spreading a world map across the table. Two
arrays had been sketched out over a sea of red dots, and if not for the fact that Edward was
the one presenting it, Namae might’ve thought the map had been repurposed as scrap paper.

“Is Elaine up yet?”

“No. She is not. Should I wake her?”

“I . . . No. It’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Something . . .” Namae examined the map more closely, heart giving an uncomfortable
squeeze as he saw one of the arrays was positioned over his homeland. “Something to do
with Ishval?”

Edward nodded. “The war was a sham. The dots are events that the Führer orchestrated to
happen during the war, and those events make this array.”

“You’re talking about blood alchemy.”

“I’m not talking about it. I’m showing it.” Edward motioned to the map again. Voice steady.
Body language soft. He didn’t press Namae to respond even when the silence stretched
unreasonably far.

And though Namae had no intentions of speaking—had no idea what he would say if he were
to speak—he heard his own voice asking, “What does it do?”

“It takes souls and exchanges them for a philosopher’s stone. I mean, it only needs one
particular soul, but it’s designed to take them all until it gets what it needs.”

Namae stared unseeingly at the array—at Ishval, at his home—until a comforting hand
warmed his upper back.

“You’re saying all of these lives . . . over a stone?”

Edward breathed out a quiet, “Yeah.”

“And their souls? Where do they, uh . . .” Namae choked on his own breath. “Go?”

“I don’t—”

“Where do you think they go?”

Edward pursed his lips and turned his eyes to the ceiling, clearly unhappy with the question.
“You’re the religious one—”

“My religion doesn’t say anything about alchemy that steals souls. Please, Edward.”
Edward huffed, scratched the back of his neck, and returned his gaze to Namae. “Nowhere. I
think the Gate, it eats them, and instead of being reincarnated or put into another world or
whatever else, they just disappear. Gone. I think it’s oblivion.”

Namae swallowed around the fearful lump in his throat to ask, “So my brother . . . ?”

“No. No, that’s the thing. I made a timeline of the major events of Ishval’s Civil War. Your
brother died in the battle of Mideel, right?”

“That is um, correct. Yes. Yes, he did.”

“Right. Well the array wouldn’t have been finished until the Credo massacre, which was at
least three months after Mideel. So even though your brother died during the war, it’s
impossible for him to have been caught up in this because the array wasn’t complete. I don’t
know where souls that don’t get caught in soul-eating arrays go, but that’s where your brother
is. And maybe you’d prefer not knowing any of this, but I couldn’t just not tell you. It was
your home. Your life.”

Namae inhaled deeply, expecting pain but feeling only relief. A new wind filled his lungs, as
sweet and light as the air angels must breathe. It was freeing. Golden eyes watched Namae
for a reaction, as compassionate as they were astute.

Namae reached out and dragged him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Namae held him tighter. Closer. He spoke into Edward’s hair. “I think about the war all the
time. I think about it, and I become overwhelmed with hatred. I am overwhelmed by the
thought of my people being massacred. It takes me to a dark place where I can’t think of
anything other than the blood and the screams and the fire. I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I
can’t do anything but wander further into that darkness. Last night was one of those times.
And now, here you are. Telling me there’s hope.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” Namae stepped back, tears cool against his cheeks, but he didn’t let go. “My
brother died, but his soul is where it should be. My people were slaughtered, but their deaths
won’t be for naught. What happened to Ishval foreshadows what’s about to happen to
Central. When the war destroyed my home, Central became my new home. Do you
understand?”

Edward’s furrowed brows and wary gaze said he didn’t.

“It means we can save my new home.”

Slow seconds passed as Namae’s words sank in, the guilty tension in Edward’s shoulders
melting away to reveal relief. The smile that tipped Edward’s lips was small. Tired.
Exhausted.

And it was beautiful.

 “Yeah. I guess it does.”

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 31
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Why did you ask me out?”

Jean jolted away from the tree he’d been leaning against, heart thudding. They’d been
teaching newbies self-defense since dawn, and he’d expected to take his first break of the day
alone. Or with Breda. Or alone. Definitely not with Hawkeye. Anxiety crept up his spine, and
as much as he wanted to appear cool and casual in the eyes of his crush, all he could come up
with was a dull, “Huh?”

“You asked me out. Why?”

Jean coughed and fiddled with a pack of cigarettes before looking anywhere but at Hawkeye.
He’d considered this matter settled when she turned him down in the parking lot. Bringing it
up now, meters away from dozens of strangers, felt a little like salt in the wounds.

He respected Hawkeye enough to answer her anyway.

“Oh, um, because you’re cool? Erm, awesome, really. I like the way you don’t take flack
from anyone and how hard you work. Like, you can do anything. It’s wild. And super
attractive.” Jean lit a cigarette in hopes of covering his embarrassing second confession with
false bravado.

Hawkeye appeared even less impressed than usual. “Not why as in reasoning. Why as in why
now?”

Hawkeye stared Jean down without an ounce of pity or remorse. He breathed in a lungful of
nicotine in a sorry attempt to calm his nerves. This was exactly why he never asked out
anyone he knew. Hawkeye was powerful and strong-willed and lovely, and hearing her turn
him down a second time was nothing short of humiliating. That being said, he respected her.
So he hesitated, glanced around, breathed in a quarter of his cigarette, and motioned for
Hawkeye to come closer.

Once they were shoulder-to-shoulder and comfortably separated from everyone else, he said,
“Because I don’t want to die regretting never kissing you.” Then, realizing how arrogantly he
was coming across, he added, “Or at least trying. Not that my main goal is to kiss you. It
isn’t. It’s not just a uh, a physical thing. Which isn’t to say that I don’t want to kiss you. Of
course I do. You’re beautiful.” Jean sighed as he accepted he was only digging himself
deeper and shut up.

After half a minute of silence, Hawkeye nodded. “Fullmetal finished the geographical profile
last night, and Mustang called me in early this morning to tell me about it.”

“Oh?”
“My house is in the middle of one of the target zones.”

“Oh.”

Extra worry and fear wound itself around Jean’s heart as he thought of the surplus danger
circling Hawkeye. She headed his anxiety off with a simple, “So yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’ll go on a secret date with you.”

Jean nearly choked on the remainder of his cigarette. “Seriously?”

Hawkeye’s smile was small but magical. “Seriously.”

“I don’t uh . . . not to risk turning a yes into a no, but why?”

“Maybe I don’t want to die regretting never letting you attempt to kiss me.”

She ended the conversation by walking away, which was for the best because Jean didn’t
think there was anything he could say that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot. Once he
was sure she couldn’t see him anymore, he pumped his fist into the air.

He had a date with Hawkeye!

(***Intertwined***)

Olivier didn’t respect her brother. He was a weak, overly emotional disgrace to both the State
Military and the Armstrong family. His glitter, tears, and cowardice weren’t something
Olivier wanted anything to do with. After his shameful display in Ishval, she may never want
anything to do with them again.

Unlike what Alex thought, strength wasn’t just about musculature. While she couldn’t
condone his choice to repudiate what the State commanded in the midst of war, she could
accept it. What she couldn’t accept was the way he’d gone about it.

If Alex had felt strongly enough to reject his orders, he should have also had the strength to
stand up for his beliefs. Instead, he’d requested to be replaced. He’d ran. That was something
no soldier, let alone an Armstrong, could honorably do.

So, despite Alex’s tears of joy and gratitude over seeing her at this self-defense teaching
extravaganza, she wasn’t there for him. She was there for Edward Elric. He was strong in
ways that Alex could only hope to be and courageous in ways Olivier rarely had the pleasure
of seeing.
She was there because if Elric was right, and she had the sneaking suspicion he was, then she
wanted to be prepared for the fight. Because being in the military was about more than
listening to the Führer's orders. It was about protecting the people.

That was what Alex had started to understand in Ishval before fearing the consequences and
fleeing. It was what Fullmetal knew in his bones and acted on daily. It was the reason all of
these people were here, together, learning. Because one man had the courage to stand against
impossible odds and warn the people.

As much as Olivier didn’t care for her brother, he was correct about Fullmetal being a shining
light in a quickly darkening world. Fullmetal didn’t cater to politics or kiss ass for his
reputation. He spoke up, fought, and put his life on the line because he believed it was right.
Against advice, against common sense, against the Führer himself, Fullmetal stood up for his
beliefs. He stood up for the people.

So when his war came out of the shadows, Olivier didn’t want to be running to position. She
wanted to already be there, sword at the ready. She wanted to follow the example Fullmetal
was setting, and she wanted to do it now. If Ishval had taught her anything, it was that
tomorrow was too late.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Olivier finished correcting a thin man’s stance, then turned to see two teenagers, a boy and a
girl. Civilians. Not dressed for self-defense.

“Yes?”

The girl fidgeted (weak) before asking, “We were wondering if we could um—if we could
get another teacher? We’re not saying you aren’t good at this. You probably are, but—”

“Oh, come on, Izzie. Just say it. She’ll understand.” The boy gave an encouraging grin but
notably didn’t step up to ask the question himself. Olivier battled with her own impatience.

The girl, Izzie, smoothed a hand down her dress and tightened her ponytail. Stalling. “O-okay
um, well, we kind of came here to meet the Fullmetal Alchemist. ‘Cause he’s, you know,
famous and smart and—”

“Hot.”

“So hot. And we’d really appreciate it if you’d switch us into his group instead.”

Both teens nodded. Olivier glared.

“No. No, I will not place you with Fullmetal so that you can ogle him as he tries to save lives.
This is not a game.” Other civilians stopped to stare, but Olivier didn’t care. “People are
going missing every day, and they’re either dying or wishing they were dead. Fullmetal
didn’t put this training day together for fun. He did it to give you ungrateful miscreants a
chance to live. So no, you can’t—”

“Everything okay here, Olivier?” The younger Elric approached, clipboard in hand.
Olivier shrugged caustically. “These two nitwits want to switch into your brother’s group in
hopes of getting felt up while he corrects them.”

“That’s not true.” The girl barked out a denial, and every word she spoke was a waste of air.
“We tried to learn from her, but she didn’t explain it well.”

“Yeah. It was really difficult.” The boy nodded along. “And we were just asking her if she
wouldn’t mind getting the Fullmetal Alchemist—your brother—to see if he could explain it
better.”

“Um . . .” Elric rubbed the side of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t think that’s such a
good idea. Brother isn’t . . .”

“Please?” The boy put his hands together in a pathetic pleading gesture. “Edward Elric is the
one who invited us here, and he’s the one we want to learn from.”

Elric grimaced. “I just don’t think . . .” He trailed off again. The teens continued to stand
there, holding up Olivier’s group and wasting everyone’s time. Elric looked at Olivier, who
glared back. She would have no part in this foolishness. He breathed a tired I-guess-this-is-
happening sigh. “Okay. Wait here.”

The teens held each other’s hands and hopped up and down as he left. Olivier’s anger burned
hotter as she saw a few other civilians glancing over, likely wondering if they could pull
similar tricks. Elric returned a moment later with Fullmetal in tow. The more famous of the
two was shirtless and sweating. The way his chest rose and fell spoke of physical exhaustion.
Olivier’s temper flared at the way the teens stared.

“What’s up?”

Before Olivier could let Fullmetal know his fans wanted to fuck him, the fanboy spoke up.
“Edward Elric. It is such an honor to meet you.”

“Such an honor.” The fangirl held out a hand to shake.

Fullmetal stared at it in confusion before meeting her eyes. “Okay. What do you need?”

The fangirl hesitated, then awkwardly lowered her hand. The fanboy took a swooning step
closer to Elric as he said, “We came here to learn how to defend ourselves, but this lady”—he
jabbed a thumb at Olivier—“isn’t teaching us right. We were wondering if we could switch
groups and learn from someone who isn’t . . . You know.”

Fullmetal crossed his arms. “I don’t, actually.”

The girl clarified, “A glorified secretary.”

Before Olivier could properly tell her how much of a glorified secretary she really was, Elric
growled, “You’re fucking with me, right? You don’t want her because she’s a girl?”

“No, we just . . .” The fangirl hunched her shoulders and glanced up at Fullmetal through her
lashes, making herself look even smaller and weaker than ever. “We just want to learn from
the best. And that’s you, so—”

“Like hell it’s me. This here is Major General Armstrong, and she can probably kick my ass
in her sleep.” He raised a metal arm to gesture across the field. “You see that towering bundle
of muscle over there? That’s her little brother, and I know for a fact that she kicks his ass all
the time. And her over there?” His finger moved to point at Hawkeye. “She’s one of the best
damn sharpshooters in all of Amestris. These women aren’t secretaries. They’re soldiers. And
you should be grateful to get the chance to learn from them.”

More civilians stopped to stare, and many of the volunteer instructors stopped with them.
Hawkeye and Alex both looked over, though neither moved to intervene.

The fangirl wrung her hands together, tears in her eyes. “That’s not fair. We didn’t come for
them. We came for you. You’re the famous one. The Alchemist of the People. And even if
they aren’t glorified secretaries, they aren’t going to be as good as you. You’re a hero.”

The fanboy chimed in, “And you don’t get to be mean to us just because they put out.”

Olivier bristled while Alex stepped forward, likely to protect the teens from her rage. Elric
hugged his clipboard to his chest and muttered, “Shouldn’t have said that.”

Fullmetal curled his hand into a fist, metal scraping metal. His voice remained steady. “They
may not be the ones on the news every day, but they will be the ones putting this country
back together after the men have finished their pissing contests. They’re fighters, heroes, and
warriors, and they deserve your respect. Do you understand me? These women have done
kick-ass life-saving things, and you can’t limit them for having vaginas instead of dicks. And
you know what?”

He took an angry step toward the teens, who flinched easily away. Cowards. “Limiting them
doesn’t just limit them. It limits women everywhere, and it limits you. I don’t know how you
don’t see that, and to be honest, I don’t give a fuck. All I do care about is that you aren’t
insulting the people who are trying to save your goddamn lives just because they’ve done the
things you’re too chicken-shit to have done for yourself.

“Let me tell you, if I were in your shoes with Olivier Motherfucking Armstrong herself
offering to teach me, I’d be clearing my schedule for whatever amount of time she’s willing
to give. Because if you get the chance to learn from her—to learn from any of them—and you
don’t take it, then you’re a fucking idiot. You say you want to learn from the best? Well there
she is. If she’s not good enough for you, none of us are. Feel free to show yourselves out.”

Fullmetal never directed the conversation back to Olivier. He didn’t look to her for her
approval or expect gratitude for stepping in. And that made sense. He wasn’t a knight in
shining armor listening for damsels in distress. He’d never stood up for people on the basis of
whether or not they needed it.

He did it because it was right.

Fullmetal returned to his own group, cursing under his breath every step of the way, and
signaled for everyone to get back to what they were doing. The gawking crowd quickly
refocused, none wanting to be on the other end of Fullmetal’s righteous rage. Olivier returned
her attention to the thoroughly chastised teens, temper pleasantly soothed.

Tears shimmered in the fanboy’s eyes. The fangirl’s mascara smeared. The fanboy used his
palm to wipe away unshed tears as he said, “We didn’t—We weren’t . . .” They looked to
Fullmetal’s brother for sympathy.

The younger Elric shrugged unapologetically. “I told you it was a bad idea.” He glanced over
to Olivier. “You got it from here?”

There was never a time where she didn’t have it, but that wasn’t the point. She nodded. Elric
left in search of another fire to put out.

Olivier crossed her arms. “So which is it? Learn or leave?”

They glanced at each other, glanced at the people who’d watched them get humiliated, and
left. They, like Alex, didn’t have what it took to stand up for their beliefs in the face of
adversity. They were weak. They deserved no respect.

No one else had the audacity to disrupt Olivier’s instructions, and at the end of the day, she
felt justified in approaching Fullmetal. He was sitting on the grass, just as shirtless and
sweaty as he had been when needlessly defending Olivier’s honor. There were two empty
water bottles next to him, and he was working on a third. He had no apparent care for the
remaining instructors and lingering students trying not to trip over him.

“Lieutenant Colonel Elric.”

He looked up at her without the brown-nosing, rank-induced awe that most people couldn’t
seem to shake, and she respected him more.

“Armstrong.”

“I would like to inform you that I’ll be in town for the next few weeks. If you find a break in
your schedule, I would appreciate you dropping by Armstrong Manor. I’m sure we have
plenty to discuss.”

“What about Fort Briggs?”

“I have vacation time. This seems like a good place to spend it.”

“Huh.” Fullmetal’s expression read curiosity, but his gaze was dangerously sharp. “You’re
pretty high up on the totem pole. You think Brad’ll be okay with that?”

“With my being here?”

“With us being friends.”

“The Führer was the one to declare your speech a cry for help. He made it clear you’re in a
bad place, mentally, and any hope of recovery will require a strong support system. Not only
will the Führer be alright with our mingling, he practically ordered it.”
For the first time since he’d created their security pendants, Olivier saw Fullmetal smile. It
was confident and roguish, and it made her blood hum with battle-ready anticipation.

“Not that I’m in the business of following Brad’s orders, but I do happen to be free tomorrow.
You want to grab dinner?”

“Only if I can show you a thing or two in the sparring room afterwards.”

“Fuck yeah.” Fullmetal held out a hand for Olivier to help him stand, and she smiled as she
pulled him to his feet.

Regardless of what happened next—regardless of who came out victorious in the battle
between the Führer King and Fullmetal—Olivier would remember this moment. This was
where she chose her side. This was where she stood by her beliefs. This, not the middle of the
fight, was where she sealed her fate and maintained her honor. Because standing there,
shoulder-to-shoulder with Fullmetal in the calm before the storm, she could feel the
inevitable truth of their future.

She could feel the war.

She wouldn’t run away.

(***Intertwined***)

“I love him.”

“Oh?”

“More than loving his resilience or his strength or the way he scrunches his nose when he
disagrees with something, I love him. I’m in love with him. And I can’t tell him because on
the off chance he doesn’t run in the opposite direction, he’ll take my feelings as another
reason to push himself to single-handedly protect everyone. He’s already not sleeping.”

Instead of directly responding to any of Roy’s issues, Maes said, “I take it your Core
stabilized?”

Roy frowned. “I realized I loved him before it stabilized.”

“Yes, but you didn’t feel the need to tell me then, so something must’ve changed.”

“This isn’t about my Core. It’s about me having the urge to tell Edward I love him every time
I see him, consequences be damned.”

“You’re sure this has nothing to do with the fact that you think he might leave now that your
Core isn’t going to rip you apart without him?” Maes kept his tone and expression gentle, but
the apprehensive frown darkening Roy’s features said it didn’t help.
“He won’t leave.”

“No?”

Roy held Maes’s stare for ten seconds before dropping his fearless façade and slumping into
the chair in front of Maes’s desk. “At least not before Monday. Armstrong’s class ties us
together until then.”

“That’s less than two days.”

“I’m aware.”

“But you aren’t going to tell him.”

“What am I supposed to say, exactly? ‘I know I already forced you to live with me and
bonded us without your consent, but I love you so don’t move out?’ Or how about: ‘I realize
that you don’t even like me enough to call this whatever-it-is we’re doing dating, but I want
to spend the rest of my life with you? Marry me?’ You can’t honestly believe any of those
options would end well for me.”

Despite the turmoil Roy was pouring directly from his heart into Maes’s ears, Maes smiled.
“You want to marry him?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“Well, do you?”

Roy offered a frustrated shrug. “Maybe? I want to do whatever makes him happy, and he’s
equally likely to think that the government has no place in our relationship and that getting
married would be the equivalent of him getting to choose his bondmate. Either way, I don’t
intend to propose any time soon. Can we get back to the issues at hand?”

“What issues? You’re in love, just like I’ve been saying for the past few months. The only
difference is that now you know it, too. And Ed may not be willing to label your relationship
as dating, but that’s still what it is. So don’t worry about him leaving.”

“You think I should ask him to move in with me?”

“I think you should talk to him about how you feel. If nothing else, Ed is loyal. He won’t turn
his back on you just because he isn’t ready to take the next step in your relationship.”

“If he thinks I expect him to tell me he loves me—”

“You don’t have to tell him you love him right now. You just have to think about it. Take your
time, and Ed will be there when you’re ready. He isn’t going anywhere.”

Roy visibly relaxed. “So when you say to talk about my feelings . . . ?”

“I meant your feelings on him moving out. Let him know that your home can be his home,
too. If he wants it to be.”
Roy ran a hand through his hair and tossed a petulant glare at Maes, who waited patiently for
the next complaint. “This is so backwards. I’m about to ask him to move in with me, and we
haven’t even had sex yet. Not that I want to wait for sex to ask because who the hell knows
how long that’ll take.” Roy made a flippant gesture with his hand, and Maes bit back a smile.
As much as Roy wasn’t a gossip, he did like to talk about the simple, non-political, non-life-
threatening things whenever he got the chance. Maes, luckily, was the one he chose to talk to.
“Part of me thinks it’s going to happen any day now because we can’t keep our hands off
each other. The rest of me is pretty sure we’re never going to do it because having sex would
mean we’re committed, and he would rather die.”

“He’s not well-versed in romantic relationships. Just give him time.”

“He can have as much time as he wants. I don’t need to have sex with him. It’s just that every
now and again, he lets me get close enough to realize how rewarding sex with him would be.
He takes teasing to a whole new level without even meaning to. For instance, did you know
he’s fine with cross-dressing?”

Maes blinked as his normally quick thoughts stuttered. “Since when are you into cross-
dressing?”

Roy shrugged dismissively. “I’m not. Though I also don’t have a uniform kink, and I have an
entire list of things I would do to Fullmetal in uniform. It’s almost like a ‘Fullmetal plus’
kink.”

Maes laughed and held up his hands to stop Roy’s explanation where it stood. “As much as
I’m usually fine with hearing about your sex life, I can do without the mental image of you
and Ed doing the deed.”

Roy’s brows rose, blatantly incredulous. “You think I listened to all your disgustingly
romantic fantasies about Gracia just so you could refuse me once I’ve settled down and am
ready to talk?”

“They aren’t disgustingly romantic.”

“What was your number one fantasy again? Fucking her on a bed of roses?”

“Making love to her in a field of flowers. And it was worthy of being my top fantasy because
as amazing as she is in bed, she’s even more amazing surrounded by flowers under a sunset.”

Roy scoffed. “Case and point.”

Maes hummed noncommittally before leaning back in his seat and motioning for Roy to
continue.

“He’s going to be a spectacular lay. Fullmetal has no clue what he’s doing, but he watches,
and he learns. He isn’t shy either. Not that any part of his personality led me to believe he
would be shy, but most virgins act like virgins. He doesn’t. When he wants something, he
goes for it. And he isn’t afraid to improvise. He did this thing with our Cores where he
funnels his energy through mine, and I swear I’ve never cum harder in my life.”
“I thought you haven’t had sex yet?”

“We’ve fooled around a few times. All of which were initiated by him, by the way. It’s
actually kind of ridiculous how easily he can pull me into a kiss and the next thing I know,
I’m looking for a reasonable place to get off. I haven’t gotten so hard so fast since I was a
teenager.”

Maes smiled indulgently. He remembered the days where Gracia didn’t know what she was
doing, though those days were long, long gone. “Oh, the joys of love.”

“You mean the joys of sex. I wanted to fuck Fullmetal long before I loved him.”

“Just wait until you get him in bed and learn how to make love. All your frivolous sexual
encounters will pale in comparison.”

“They already pale in comparison. And maybe you should try rough, disgusting sex every
once in a while. I know Gracia would appreciate it.”

Maes’s eyes narrowed as he tried to ascertain whether or not Roy was telling the truth. Roy,
in turn, schooled his expression into one of polite curiosity—as though he didn’t know just
how much Maes wanted him to keep going.

Eventually, Maes’s capitulated. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“Why would she talk to you about something like that?”

“Because your idea of a dirty fantasy is making love in a field of flowers. Don’t feel bad. You
know love. I know sex. It’s nothing personal.”

Maes scowled as he weighed the likelihood of Gracia discussing their sex life with Roy
against the downfall of not learning more about these conversations should they exist. Roy’s
expression remained neutral, but his eyes shone with mischief. That brought the real question
down to whether or not Maes was willing to forgo having the information without first being
positive it was false.

He wasn’t.

“What did she say?”

“She wants you to fuck her on your desk, among other places. She wants to know you want
her, even when you shouldn’t, and I think that’s fair considering how vanilla we all know you
are.” A blush dusted Maes’s cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond only for Roy to
continue, “She also wants the thrill of possibly getting caught. Something like blowing you
under the desk during a meeting or going at it in a supply closet.”

“Did she say why?”

“Because it’s hot?” Roy shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s that you tell her how
beautiful and perfect she is every day, and she wants to be sexy, too. But that’s just
speculation.” Roy dropped his polite façade to lean forward. “Do you think I need to tell
Edward how attractive he is more often, or does almost fucking him in a train station get the
point across well enough?”

Maes swatted the air dismissively. “No, no. You cannot bring up my gorgeous wife’s
unfulfilled sexual desires, then expect me to listen to you rattle on about how well your sex
life with Ed is going.”

“Lack of sex life. We haven’t done it yet.”

“You will though. And when you do, it’ll be great. I know it. You know it. We all know it.
Can we get back to Gracia now?”

Roy huffed softly. “She visits you sometimes wearing a low-cut yellow sundress and a hot
pink bra with a little bow in the front.” Maes raised both brows. Roy pursed his lips,
unamused. “You know the one. It makes her breasts look great and hugs her curves just
right.”

Maes nodded. “I know the one.”

“Right. Well, she asked me how to subtly seduce you, and that outfit was my advice. If she
visits you wearing that, she wants you to lock the door and take her over your desk. Now,
back to my problems.”

“What? No. Not back to your problems. When did she tell you all this?”

“Last year, maybe? And yes, back to my problems. I didn’t come here to talk about you and
Gracia.”

“Last year? When did you plan on telling me? And you and Ed are fine. He’s opening up to
you. Who cares if he wants to wait to have sex? At least it’s you he’s waiting to have sex
with.”

Roy frowned, but the cant of his head said his ego had been properly stroked. “I distinctly
remember you telling me not to meddle in your love life after that whole cherry debacle.”

“I meant that I didn’t want your advice. Not that I didn’t want to know if my wife tells you
her fantasies.”

“You should’ve been more specific then.”

Maes tried to muster up some anger to go with his disbelief, but he just ended up smiling.
“You’re ridiculous.”

“When it suits me.” Roy returned Maes’s grin before standing and alchemically ironing out
the non-existent wrinkles in his uniform. “You’ll let me know how things go with Gracia?”

“Of course. Are you leaving?”

Roy nodded. “I’ve got to get home. I made sure Edward ate breakfast by telling Armstrong
that he didn’t eat last night, but I’m sure he’s blowing off dinner again in favor of either
studying or working out. I’m thinking he might remember his ridiculously large appetite if I
walk in with take-out from that Ishvalian restaurant on Main Street.”

“Good thinking.”

Roy’s parting gesture was a half-hearted wave, and Maes smiled as he watched the door
close. They didn’t get together and talk like this often—and even then, it was repressed
anxiety that brought this chat on—but Maes treasured it. He treasured the way Roy offered
his whole self to their friendship, uncaring of embarrassment or shame.

More than a few people throughout the years had questioned Maes’s attachment to Roy. They
called Roy manipulative and superficial, and they didn’t see how family-man Maes could
possibly be friends with such a character.

They failed to see the way Roy worked himself to the bone to protect his friends and better
the people, and they completely missed the way Maes manipulated those around him on a
daily basis. Maes’s job, almost by definition, required deceit. He just tended to smile and talk
about his family enough for people to forget that little detail.

Maes was trustworthy, but that didn’t mean he should be trusted.

Roy knew that. He knew, he understood, and he still came to Maes to talk about the simple
things like love and sex. And that was what people didn’t see. Maes got the manipulation,
political intrigue, and in-progress-scheming, yes, but he also got the trust.

(***Intertwined***)

Tireless.

The word that popped into most people's heads when asked to describe Edward Elric was
stubborn, rude, or genius, but Roy knew better. Edward was tireless.

Edward had spent all last night finishing a geographic profile, had hardly slept the night
before that (or the night before that), and still found the energy to run a training camp
teaching hundreds of people basic self-defense techniques. Not that he wasn’t tired, as that
would be borderline impossible, but that he was tireless. He pushed himself past his limits
and worked harder than anyone Roy had ever seen, never once complaining or even
expecting anyone to notice his efforts.

Even now he was doing one-handed push-ups over a book written in . . . what? Aerugonian?
Roy walked past Fullmetal to place the food on the table before returning to the living room.
Then, because he was positive talking would have little to no effect, Roy crouched and
tugged on Edward’s messily tied blonde bun.
Fullmetal craned his neck to look at Roy but didn’t pause his workout. “What?”

“Come eat with me.”

“Come eat with—” Fullmetal scrunched his nose and let his mouth hang open, stopping
halfway through a push-up to focus on glaring at Roy. “You’ve got to be fucking with me.
After you told Armstrong I hadn’t eaten, he took me to a diner and ordered every goddamn
thing on the menu. I spent two hours listening to him tell me about having everything but
passion in moderation and taking care of my immune system. Like hell I’m eating with you.”

Roy blinked unapologetically and pulled at the band keeping Edward’s hair in place until
golden blonde hair covered angry amber eyes. That forced Edward to choose between
holding position and glaring at Roy. Edward dropped to the floor and pushed his hair out of
his face to keep glaring, as Roy had known he would.

“It’s not just eating. I also want you to explain the alchemy behind my gloves. I don’t like
depending on something I don’t understand.”

Roy went back to the kitchen without waiting for a response. Not that the kitchen was far
enough to miss the string of creative curses, but still. Edward, who couldn’t pass up a chance
to explain complex alchemy to save his life, quickly joined Roy at the table.

Despite apparently having helped Armstrong eat an entire menu, Edward was quick to pick a
take-out container and dig in. “What do you not understand?”

“For starters, the equation. Why are there numbers in the array?”

“Every array is an equation. I just put a secondary equation inside of the overall equation to
set the parameters of need vs want which have to be met before activating the equation of the
array itself.”

Just.

He “just” reinvented alchemy. Roy withheld a scoff to say, “What purpose does the numerical
equation serve?”

“It spells out the moment of decision in your Core.”

Roy cocked his brows, long past pretending he knew what he was talking about for the sake
of impressing Edward. “Moment of decision?”

“Yeah. You know that moment where you’re about to perform alchemy but haven’t actually
activated the array yet? Your hands or fingers are hovering. You know what you want to do.
The materials are rife with energy, ready to react. The tension of the alchemy you’re about to
perform tightens to the point where your Core and the energy of the surrounding world
practically mix. It’s like bonding, but with everything. Becoming one with the world, just for
a moment.”

Edward’s passion brought goosebumps to Roy’s skin, and the knowledge that Roy never had
(and likely never would have) such a fundamental experience brought an ache to his chest.
Melancholy cuddled up next to his awe, and he took a sip of water to wash down the dryness
in his throat. “Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve ever experienced a moment like that.”

“Seriously? It’s one of the best parts of alchemy.”

“If it’s anything close to the way you’re describing it, I’d say that’s probably true.”

Edward’s gaze turned searching, and Roy allowed himself to be searched. He let Edward see
the awe he felt over the blonde’s mastery of alchemy and how much he wanted to feel
the moment. He exposed his gratitude over the opportunity to learn like this, in close quarters
with Edward, and he opened himself up to show that while he did have to work harder to
understand concepts like this, he was willing to put in the effort.

When Edward finished his search, he licked his lips and leaned ever-so-slightly closer. “I
might be able show you.”

“How?”

“Our bond. It connects our Cores to a near literal extent. If you follow that thread of
connection, you should be able to feel what I’m doing. I can hold us in that moment—not for
long, but I can do it—and maybe you’ll be able to feel it, too.”

“I assume this is in the same realm as you manipulating our connection in bed?”

“Along the same lines, yeah.”

Roy frowned. “Fullmetal, I don’t know how to do that, either.”

Edward held out his flesh hand. “I can show you.”

Roy touched Edward for the first time since his Core stabilized, and it was unlike any time
they’d touched before. Instead of nothing, like before the bond, or adrenaline-fueled pleasure,
like directly after the bond, it was contentment. It was coming home and being free.

It was completion.

Fullmetal must have felt it too because he stared at their connected hands with an almost
obsessive curiosity before turning his attention back to Roy. His hand twisted to twine their
fingers together, and Roy felt a tug on his Core that led to the sweet, hot perfection of being
one with Edward.

The purity and the strength of their bond warmed Roy’s heart, and he could feel Edward’s
Core like it was right in front of him. Like it was pressed up against his own Core, silently
asking to meld. Roy’s breath hitched in his chest as he tried not to get lost in the flawlessness
of their joining.

Edward smiled, impossibly more handsome than even seconds prior, and Roy realized with a
start that he was ruined for anyone else.

“Do you feel that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Edward held up his free hand and snapped. Roy felt an odd flush of power as
familiar alchemy was performed by something his body just barely didn’t register as itself.
“And did you feel that?”

“I did.”

“Good. Now focus on where you felt it. Focus on my Core.”

Somehow, with Edward sitting right there, holding his hand through the process, it was easy.
He felt Edward’s Core as an extension of his own, and he recognized the burning center as
the alchemic starter. Edward prepped his hand to snap again, but he didn’t go through with it.

After a few seconds he asked, “Do you feel that?”

“No.”

“That’s alright. Take your time and relax. It’s an instinctual thing. If you’re looking too hard,
you’ll miss it. Try focusing on where our Cores meet instead. The alchemy will happen. The
moment is there. Just trust it.”

Roy, wanting nothing more than to show his bondmate he was capable—that he could do this
—closed his eyes. Watching Fullmetal be brilliant while offering Roy that devastatingly
handsome smile filled Roy’s mind with an unnecessary, unwanted list of ways to say I love
you. He needed to focus.

So, he closed his eyes and waited. As the minutes ticked by, he thought maybe he was
doomed to fail. Maybe this moment of alchemy was like the math in the music, and it was
meant just for Fullmetal.

Then it flickered.

Roy tensed, unsure he’d felt anything at all, and Edward’s grip on his hand tightened. More
magically than that, he could feel Edward’s Core fluctuate with what he instinctively knew
was encouragement. Edward’s thumb swiped across the back of Roy’s hand. Roy relaxed and
waited to feel the flicker again.

It came twice more before Roy was able to catch the moment, and when he did—

It was heaven. It was the entire universe, unfolding for Roy. It was a connection to every
single thing around him and the inherent knowledge of which oxygen molecules, exactly,
were going to combust. It was feeling the outcome of snapping his fingers
and knowing exactly how much energy would be expended. It was the energy of the world
flowing through his Core, connecting him and betraying the fact that he had never been just a
man, but a single cog in an infinitely complex machine. It was the universe, and it was Roy,
and there was no distinction between the two.

Then the moment ended.

Roy sighed with boneless, toe-curling appreciation for a side of the world which previously
(at least to his knowledge) hadn’t existed. He felt Edward’s Core brighten with excitement.

“Now I know you felt that.”

Roy smiled lazily, unwilling to open his eyes just in case seeing Edward’s proud grin would
short-circuit his ability not to confess. “I did. Though I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to
feeling it again.”

Edward laughed, and Roy went back to waiting.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed didn’t quite know how he ended up back in Mustang’s bed. He didn’t plan on it. It wasn’t
his intention. He’d wanted to teach Mustang some alchemy and go back to reading.

Then Mustang smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that had everything to do with the thrill
of alchemy and nothing to do with the fact that Ed was the one teaching him, but it still
managed to make Ed’s heart flutter. Ed leaned in to kiss him—just one kiss—because
Mustang was too handsome not to be kissed. And when Mustang’s Core burned with an
amazing mix of joy, pride, and care, he couldn’t help himself. He went back for just one
more.

Mustang’s hand on his waist encouraged one more after that, and when their chairs prevented
them from getting closer, it was more of an obstacle to get over than a sign saying stop. So
there Ed was, practically sitting in Mustang’s lap at the kitchen table, and what? How did
they get up to his bed?

They’d been making out, and Mustang’s fingers had dipped into the waistband of Ed’s pants
but went no further. Mustang was teasing, but that was it. Nothing serious. Just one very
long, very intimate kiss. Then Mustang broke their kiss to rid himself of his shirt, and
Shirtless Mustang did terrible things to Ed’s judgment.

Ed had slipped his hand between them to feel Mustang’s abs, and Mustang had responded by
bodily picking Ed up and laying him out on the table, mere centimeters from their unfinished
food. A strong hand pushed Ed’s shirt up under his chin, then Mustang’s unbelievably
talented mouth focused all of its unbelievably talented attention on Ed’s nipple.

Ed arched into Mustang’s touch, and he felt those perfect lips grin around his nipple, and
then? Then he started thinking with his dick. He wrapped his legs around Mustang’s waist to
pull the man closer. When their cocks met, he stopped pretending it was just one kiss. Ed
threaded his fingers into Mustang’s hair to yank the Colonel up for more.

It was Mustang who broke their kiss to say, “Bedroom” and Ed who nodded. They practically
ran upstairs, Ed losing his shirt as Mustang pressed him against the wall of the stairway for
another mind-blowing kiss. That got them to Mustang’s bedroom. Mustang kicked off his
shoes and undid his pants, and Ed was quick to follow suit and shed his sweatpants and
boxers.

That was when Mustang picked him up and tossed him onto the bed like he weighed
fucking nothing, and Ed outright moaned. It wasn’t just the display of strength and control,
either. It was the way Mustang’s cock stood upright against a background of black curls,
drawing attention to both his abs and the musculature of his thighs. It was the burn wound on
his side and the scars across his body. It was mussed-up hair falling into obsidian eyes that
looked at Ed like he was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

It was Roy Mustang and how much Ed wanted him.

Mustang positioned himself over Ed, grinding their dicks together, and kissed Ed like he was
the sole provider of oxygen, which brought them to the present.

Ed bucked up against Mustang, eager to feel more of that friction. Mustang, in turn, balanced
on his knees to grab Ed’s hips. He rubbed their dicks together with the perfect amount of
friction and force. Arousal skittered up Ed’s spine, and he moaned into Mustang’s mouth.
Mustang kissed him even harder.

Ed snaked his flesh hand between them to get a hold of both their cocks, and it was startling
how much better masturbating was with Mustang there. Mustang groaned into Ed’s mouth
and disconnected their lips to kiss his way down to Ed’s neck. Ed tilted his head back to give
Mustang more room and felt Mustang’s cock both thicken and harden in response.

Ed gripped them tighter and quickened his pace, unable to describe how much it turned him
on to be the one who put Mustang in such a state. Mustang thrust his hips, teeth nipping at
Ed’s neck. Ed moaned lowly, all-too aware that he was going to cum first again, and let go of
their dicks to grab Mustang’s hair and bring the other man in for a bruising kiss.

Mustang, unfortunately, seemed unaware of Ed’s goal of not instantly finishing and freed a
hand to pick up where Ed had left off. And goddamn if Mustang’s hand didn’t feel even
better than Ed’s own. Ed bucked up as Mustang swiped a thumb across the tip of his dick,
and his orgasm was just as powerful as it was quick.

Ed felt Mustang smirk against his lips—the arrogant bastard—and he twined his fingers with
Mustang’s around both their cocks with the intent of making Mustang come undone just as
quickly. What he didn’t anticipate was how fantastically sensitive his own dick would be
post-orgasm. The combination of their hands filled Ed with disorienting pleasure. Ed’s
automail hand found purchase on Mustang’s shoulder, allowing Mustang to move his lips to
Ed’s ear.

“Do you hear yourself right now, Edward?” Mustang licked shell of Ed’s ear, and Ed only
half-heard the sounds of their hands squelching around their dicks through Mustang’s
breathing. “I’ve always wanted to hear you moan, but I never thought you would sound so . .
.” Mustang groaned appreciatively, teeth latching softly onto Ed’s earlobe. He rocked his hips
against Ed’s, oversensitive pleasure forcing out a full body shudder.
 Ed instinctively copied the motion of Mustang’s hips, barely recognizing the soft whine of
his own voice as he said Mustang’s name. He meant to follow the call with a gruff “shut up,”
but when Mustang’s dick pulsed in his hand, and the Colonel lifted his head to show eyes full
of want, care, and desire—

Ed abandoned their cocks to instead wrap his arms around Mustang’s neck and pull
him closer. As close as physically possible, then closer than that, too. Mustang released Ed’s
cock to focus on his own as he turned his attentions back to Ed’s neck.

Ed felt it when Mustang came. He felt the powerful body above him shudder and the warmth-
safety-care of Mustang’s Core brighten until it consumed him. And when he finally came
down from the high of Mustang’s orgasm, he found they were still hugging. Ed loosened his
grip but didn’t let go, and Mustang relaxed against him. The way Mustang sucked and
nibbled at his neck faded into soft kisses.

Something pleasant bloomed in Ed’s chest. Something contented and adoring. He pulled
Mustang closer still. “Stay.”

Mustang hummed against his neck.

Ed cleared his throat and clarified, “I want to stay. Here. In the library. I know Armstrong’s
course only keeps me here until Monday, but I want to stay past that. I can pay rent or
whatever—”

Ed was interrupted by a cheery, disbelieving laugh and lips pressed firmly against his own.

“Of course you can stay.” Another kiss. “I want you to stay. In the library. In my
room. Our room. Whatever you want, I want to give it to you, and I want that all the more if
it means you’ll stay.”

Ed paused, hesitant to believe it could be that easy. “No deadlines?”

“We’re bonded, Fullmetal. I’ll be yours for as long as you’ll have me.” Mustang used one
hand to motion vaguely to the space around them. “The house, of course, comes with me.”

Ed’s voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “We’re not dating, you know.”

Mustang smiled, and it was a beautiful thing.

“I know.”

Chapter End Notes

I'm officially a published author! If you'd like to check my original works or sign up for
my newsletter, feel free to visit [Link]! Have a wonderful day!
 Chapter 32
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Alphonse wasn't sure what to think when he saw his brother enter the library with
unmistakable kiss-marks up his neck. On one hand, Edward was confident enough not to care
if people knew about his sex life. On the other hand, it was likely he didn't even realize he’d
been marked.

“Brother?”

“Hey, Al. Sorry I'm late.”

“It's fine. I take it you were busy?”

Edward gave him an odd look before shrugging. “Not really. Just overslept.”

Alphonse took that as a sign of Edward's ignorance and said, “Brother, not to be crude, but it
looks like you did more than sleep.”

When Edward only furrowed his brows, Alphonse motioned to his neck. Edward reached up
to touch the bruises. “Goddamn it.”

Alphonse laughed and patted the seat next to him. “So, you and Mustang?”

Edward sneered as he flopped into his chair. “Something like that. What've you got for me?”

“A few books on blood alchemy and the philosopher's stone, and a book on Cores. They're all
in languages I can't read, so I can't tell you much more than that, but they seemed
interesting.” Alphonse hesitated before adding, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Course I do. Something on your mind?” Edward's demeanor was casual, but his eyes were
piercing.

Alphonse fought the urge to fidget under that intense stare as he realized that he was the only
one aware of the new distance between them. “I . . . Winry and I are having sex.”

“I kind of figured.”

“And that's why I never told you. You always just know, and it's really nice, but I'm not like
that. I need you to tell me what's going on in your life, Brother. Because if you don't, then I
won't know, and I want to know. I'll always want to know.”

Edward kept staring for at least a minute longer. Alphonse knew better than to rush him.
Eventually, Edward made a soft noise with the back of his throat. “Mustang and I haven't had
sex yet. We've thought about it. We've almost done it. But then I just . . . can't.”
“Why not?”

“Because it's . . . I don't know, important? It's hard to explain, but if I fuck him, I'll be giving
him a part of me. Something I can't get back. And I don't know if I'm ready to do that.”
Edward shrugged like it didn't matter, but Alphonse recognized the defensive set to his
shoulders.

Alphonse smiled. “Well, you don't have to sleep with him, obviously, but you also don't have
to think of it as giving something away. It's not so much losing a part of yourself as it is
gaining a part of your partner. You know?”

Edward's blank look said he didn't.

“Well, you give yourself to the person you sleep with, right?”

Edward’s disinterested shrug said that wasn't exactly how he thought of it, but it was close
enough.

“It's the same for the person who's sleeping with you. You give yourself to them, and they
give themselves to you.”

“Like equivalent exchange?”

“Um . . . I guess you could look at it that way. I like to think making love is more intimate
than alchemy.”

Edward frowned, clearly unimpressed. “Maybe you should work on your alchemy.”

The response was so monotoned and unexpected that Alphonse couldn't help but laugh. In
response, Edward’s lips tipped in a rare, adoring smile that made Alphonse momentarily
forget about the death and destruction bearing down on them from all sides.

Alphonse scooted a little closer. “You might not be saying that after you and Mustang finally
do it. I mean”—Alphonse lowered his voice—“if he's as good as the tabloids seem to think?”

Edward huffed. “Better. But don't tell him I said that. The smug bastard.”

Alphonse laughed again. “I would never.”

“What about you and Win? You sexing it up all over the place?”

Alphonse felt his face heat and harshly shushed his brother while looking around for
eavesdroppers.

Edward continued, unconcerned, “What? You said you guys are fucking, right?”

“No! No, we're not doing . . . that. When we're together, it's making love, and it's beautiful.
She cares about me and makes me feel wanted in a way I didn't even know I needed. And I
get to do things for her that I only ever imagined before. It's magic. And not that other word.”
“Fucking?”

“Brother!”

Edward snickered, shameless. “Fine, fine. If you don't want to talk about you and Win, it’s
back to research. What did you find on the stone?”

Alphonse's creeping sense of unease returned. He fidgeted. “I understand the stone is

important, but do you think that maybe we should focus on the array over Central first?”

“Why's that?”

“Well, the stone may be the reason the Führer's doing this, but it's not what we're facing,
right? Shouldn't we focus on figuring out why he picked this array over the one they used in
Ishval?”

Even with his soft, cautious tone, Alphonse knew he’d said the wrong thing. He knew by
Edward's parting lips and scrunched brows that he’d said something his brother
considered stupid. He also knew the only reason Edward wasn't saying as much was because
it was Alphonse he was talking to.

Seconds passed before Edward's expression slackened to something more empathetic. “They
figured out how to use the other souls, Al. The ones that get taken but don't activate the array.
Instead of getting thrown into oblivion, they're absorbed into the stone.”

“But why?”

“Because everything so far says that the stone is a one-use thing. One soul, one inequivalent
exchange. If they're able to put more souls in the stone . . .”

Edward didn't finish, and Alphonse didn't need him to. “Oh, god.”

Edward breathed out a soft, “Yeah.”

“So what do we . . . What do we do?”

“We keep looking at the stone. If we learn everything there is to know about it, maybe we can
figure out what kind of soul is going to activate the array. Take preventative measures.”

“And if we can't?”

“Then you and Winry get the hell out of Central before it’s too late.”

“Brother, we can't—”

“You can and you will. It's not a suggestion.”

“Brother—”
Alphonse stopped when he saw his brother's glare. Elrics were known for their stubbornness,
but Alphonse had never been able to hold a candle to Edward's obstinate nature. And as much
as he wanted to fight or yell, he was smarter than that.

Unlike Edward, Alphonse wasn't ruled by his emotions. If Edward knew he intended to stay
no matter what, he'd waste precious time and energy trying to force Alphonse out. Alphonse
didn't want that.

So instead of gnashing his teeth and going head-to-head with Edward, he said, “Alright.”
And Edward, his wonderful, trusting brother, believed him.

Edward nodded, positive Alphonse would never lie to him, and went back to his books.

(***Intertwined***)

Riza hadn’t always wanted to be a mom.

When she’d lived with her father, mom may as well have been a curse word. Her father never
spoke about her mother, and Riza never wanted to hear about her, either. Anyone willing to
leave their child behind, especially in the care of a man like her father, was trash. Worse than
trash. And Riza wanted to no part of it. In her mind, having a family meant repeating that
tragedy. Even thinking of bringing a child into this cold, cruel world made her sick.

Then Gracia got pregnant.

It didn’t require much attention on Riza’s part. An obligatory congratulations, and she was
done. The problem was that Gracia was kind and Riza was polite. So when Gracia saw Riza
staring, she asked if Riza wanted to feel the baby kick. Riza very distinctly did not want that,
but Gracia looked so happy to share her experience that Riza couldn’t say no. One touch
wouldn’t hurt.

She placed her hand on Gracia’s swollen belly for what felt like an appropriate amount of
time without feeling anything. Then, just before she could pull away, the baby moved. It was
a little thing, barely noticeable through her gloves. Riza had looked up, and Gracia had
smiled, everything a loving mother should be.

That was when the wonder set in. Wonder over the miracle of having a human child growing
inside another person. Wonder over how happy Gracia had looked. Wonder over what a
family could be when a mother cared for her child as much as Gracia cared for the little girl
inside her. When Riza got home that night, she’d lifted her shirt and pressed a hand to her
own stomach. Flat. Toned. Lifeless.

She’d thought, if only for a second, what it would be like to be pregnant.

Riza wasn’t there when Elicia was born, but it was impossible to avoid the following
celebrations. She ended up at the Hughes household. Luckily, avoiding Gracia was easy
considering the fuss the rest of the unit was kicking up. Riza made small-talk with Hughes
until Mustang distracted him. An excuse to leave weighed on her tongue, waiting only for
someone to use it on. Then Breda ran over, screaming baby in hand.

He held Elicia like a bomb rather than a baby, and Riza plucked the child out of his hands
almost without meaning to. She re-swaddled Elicia in a fluffy, Amestris blue blanket and held
the babe close to her chest. Elicia’s cries immediately quieted. She was tiny, warm, and quite
possibly the most precious thing Riza had ever touched.

Breda broke the magic of the moment by cooing about ‘Momma Hawkeye.’ Riza, in turn,
used her free hand to bring out her pistol. She’d already attached a silencer, just in case
something like this came up. The hammer cocked back with a click. Breda shut up.

When Gracia relieved Riza of Elicia Duty, it was with a smile and a whispered, “You’re a
natural.” That, in hindsight, was Riza’s undoing. The wonder had seeded inside her, and those
words of encouragement were all it needed to grow into yearning.

Riza wanted a baby.

Because unlike her mother, who’d abandoned her, or her father, who’d abused her, Riza
would be a good mom. She would raise her child to be strong and kind. Her baby would grow
up in a terrible world, but it wouldn’t have a terrible life. It would be happy. Loved. Riza
would love it.

She pressed her hand to her stomach more often, but all she saw was the tattoo on her back.
Getting pregnant required having sex, and she couldn’t. She couldn’t stomach letting others
see what her father had done to her. She couldn’t breathe around the idea that the information
in her tattoo would be abused by whoever saw it. Mustang said to fuck with her clothes on,
but even the small chance of her shame being revealed left her gagging.

The child she yearned for was impossible.

That was why, when Havoc asked her out, she should’ve said no. He was awkward and had
fumbled more dates than she could count, but he was also kind. He was funny and genuine.
He wanted a family. Riza couldn’t provide.

It was the threat of death that made her accept. She couldn’t give Havoc what he wanted, but
she could pretend. Just for one date, she could be a woman without a tattoo meeting up with a
man who adored her. During the scant few hours that their date lasted, her dream of having a
family could breathe.

Havoc, who would be a kind, caring father. Riza, who would be a stern but loving mother.
And their daughter, Elizabeth.

The fantasies never went any further than Riza’s imagination, but they made her smile. That
was why, even knowing Havoc would blunder and their date would go horribly, she looked
forward to it. She arrived at the shooting range early, and her smile widened when she saw
the Closed for Renovations sign hanging in the window.
Havoc really did have the worst luck with women.

He arrived fifteen minutes late, though Riza didn’t hold it against him. Mustang had been
riding them all hard since Fullmetal figured out the blood arrays, but Havoc got the worst of
it. As if to confirm her suspicions, Havoc got out of the car with a hurried, “Sorry I’m late.
Mustang assigned an extra task as I was walking out the door, and it took longer than I
thought.” He smiled sheepishly.

Riza, in turn, pointed to the sign on the door. “We’re not off to a great start.”

His smile widened to an unexpected grin. Rather than fretting over what to do next or
apologizing again, he reached into the backseat and produced a picnic basket and a key. “You
said you wanted a secret date, right? Well, my buddy owns this place, and it’s only the office
area that’s under renovations. The shooting range”—he unlocked the door and held it open
for Riza—“is all ours.”

Riza hummed, impressed by how seriously he was taking this, but otherwise didn’t respond.
Well-chosen location or not, this was Havoc she was on a date with. He would find a way to
screw it up.

(Except he didn’t.)

He asked her to help him improve his aim without bravado or envy, and when he swooned
over her impeccable shooting skills, he did so sincerely. Havoc was still a blushing mess who
couldn’t deliver a pick-up line to save his life, but he was also sweet. He asked her about her
likes and dislikes, as Fullmetal had recommended, and they found a surprising amount in
common.

They both grew up in single parent households. They both ran to relieve stress. They both
liked to get breakfast at the run-down diner on eighty-third even though the line was always
horrendous. Neither of them of were good cooks.

It turned out the picnic basket was filled with meats, cheeses, and breads. Havoc bashfully
admitted to not being able to make much else and that he spent a shameful amount of his
paycheck on takeout meals. Riza confirmed she wasn’t much better. Havoc suggested they
kidnap Gracia for cooking lessons, and Riza surprised herself by agreeing.

When they finished eating, Havoc sprawled out on the floor and asked, “So, what are you
going to do if we live?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we beat the Führer. If we don’t get our souls sucked out. I guess nothing has to
change, but, like, it should. Shouldn’t it?” He rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up
on his forearms to better look at Riza. “It’s like, if I die right now, my life is pretty
unsatisfying. I don’t have anything worth leaving behind or anything to really be proud of.
And it’s just—I guess I just always thought I’d have more time. You know?”
Riza nodded. “What is it you intend to change? Will you rise through the ranks and take
Mustang’s position?”

Havoc grinned around his cigarette and turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Nah. I love what we
do, but not like he does. I think I’m gonna take the Hughes route.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Find someone to love and have a pile of kids.” His cigarette twitched down as he
frowned and glanced to Riza. “Shit. Not supposed to mention that on a first date, am I?”

Riza smiled. “No.”

“Right. Shit. Um, I take it back?”

“I’ll allow it. But only this once. Mention children again, and I’ll run.”

“Noted.” His grin returned, as bright as ever. “So, what about you? What’ll you change?”

Riza shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. We’re working to make the world a better place. That’s enough for me.” She
smiled to drive home her lie, and Havoc believed her.

He breathed out a puff of smoke. “I’m calling a foul on that one. There’s supposed to be a
limit to how cool you are.” The tip of his cigarette burned brighter as he breathed in. “How
am I supposed to sweep you off your feet if you’re the knight in shining armor?”

Riza laughed, and if she imagined the two of them, years from that moment, with kids
climbing up Havoc’s legs and a baby in her arms, that was her business. Their date drew to a
natural conclusion without either of them really wanting it to end. Riza stood and brushed the
dust off her uniform while Havoc repacked the picnic.

She intended to end it there. Her planned rejection involved sparing his feelings by blaming
her reputation or their work situation. It would be quick but firm, leaving no room for heart-
to-hearts or second guessing. She was going to reject him, and she was going to walk away.
No harm, no foul.

Then he stepped closer and asked, “Any chance I can kiss you?”

Riza's mind said no while her mouth said, “Yes,” and Havoc was a good kisser. It was quick
—a press of his lips against hers at the right angle—but it made her resolve falter. Because
Havoc pulled away with a gentle smile, like Riza had made his entire year, and asked for
nothing more. He didn't try to take her home or extend their date. Aside from the kiss, he
hadn't touched her once.

That comfortable distance and the boundaries he respected warmed something inside Riza.
Her mouth ran away with the feeling to say, “I'll plan the next one.”
Havoc straightened like an excited pup. “Next one?”

Riza smiled and, knowing she shouldn’t, said, “So long as you can keep a secret.”

“I can. I will. You're not going to regret this, I promise.” Havoc’s grin was wide enough to
display both rows of teeth, and Riza convinced herself this was fine. One more date. And
next time—next time—she’d end it for sure.

She would.

(***Intertwined***)

Gerard was bored.

He should be on-edge, prepared for war to break out at any moment, but he wasn't. He was
fucking bored.

“I don't see why this Elric kid has you so worked up.” Trisha slumped in one of the two
cushy chairs in front of Brad’s desk. “Isn't he like fourteen?”

“Eighteen, but the boy has his ways.” Solaris smiled at Trisha from her place by the rightmost
wall.

Trisha grunted. “I don't care about his ways. Or him. Or any of you. I want to go home.”

Brad held his hand up to quiet them, and Gerard laughed. Brad may have managed to get the
entire Homunculi family in one room, but it'd take a miracle to keep them there.

“I'd first like to thank you all for coming. This meeting, as I'm sure many of you are aware, is
to discuss how to move forward concerning Lieutenant Colonel Elric.”

Trisha groaned. Gerard seconded the feeling by asking, “If you're going to kill Ed, can't you
do it on your own time?”

Brad smiled, and it was genuine enough to send a shock of discomfort down Gerard’s spine.
“I don't want to kill Elric. I want to utilize him. And to do that, I'll need all of you.”

“The fuck could you be planning that requires all of us?”

“Something grand. First, though, I'd like to be sure I can count on you.”

“Bullshit.”

Trisha leaned to the left then the right, trying to find a way to comfortably lie down in an arm
chair. When she failed to find it, she folded her legs up under her thighs and said, “Normally
Gerard's a bit too high-energy for me, but this time I'm with him. Can you cut to the chase?”
Solaris interjected with a languid, “Let's not be too hasty. First, we need to know who's in and
who's out.”

Gordon rocked back on his heels. “I'm in. I'll help.”

Solaris pet Gordon’s hairless head. “Thank you, Gordon.”

Selim hummed from his place behind and to the right of Brad’s desk, unimpressed. “Gordon
isn't the ally in question.”

Solaris smiled. “Then who is?”

“If you need to ask that, Aunt Solaris, perhaps you shouldn't be here.”

“I see the kitten's found his claws.”

“And I'll use them to slit your throat, if need be.”

Brad raised his hand again, higher this time. “Solaris, Selim, calm yourselves. We're all
family here.”

Gerard leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Since when has that ever meant
anything?”

“Family is everything, Gerard.”

“Right.”

Solaris interrupted their petty arguing with a simple, “Trisha, Gerard, we don't trust you.”

Gerard deadpanned, “You don't say.”

“It's no secret you two tend to defect more often than not.”

“Maybe we defect because all Brad's plans only cater to Brad.”

“I actually defect because I just don't want to participate.” Trisha shrugged unapologetically.

Gerard ignored her to tell Brad, “Whatever you've got planned, I'm not interested.”

Brad relaxed into his wingback chair, hands folded pleasantly over his lap. “Now is not the
time to act rashly, Gerard. I can do this without you, but I'd rather not. I called you here
specifically to solidify your interest in helping me.”

“I just said I'm not interested.”

“You will be.”

Gerard blandly considered the pros and cons of bashing his older brother’s face in. Trisha
asked, “And how do you intend to do that? Interest us, I mean.”
“By giving you what you want.”

Trisha sat a little straighter. “You'll never call on me again?”

“Never.”

“And everything's still paid for?”

“You have my word.”

Trisha slouched back into her seat, far more attentive than before Brad's reveal. Gerard wasn't
so easily convinced. “What'll you give me? The only thing I want is Ed, and you've made
your stance on that pretty damn clear.”

Brad's smile sharpened. “Prove your loyalty to me, and I will give you Edward Elric.”

Greed opened its hungry maw inside Gerard. He sneered. “How, exactly, would I be proving
my loyalty?”

“Your honesty.” Brad leaned forward, elbows on his desk, and steepled his fingers. “The one
thing you refused to leave behind with your humanity was honesty, and that's what I want.
You lie for me, and he's yours.”

Fury spiked, searing cruelty into Gerard’s teeth. “You're overstepping yourself, Bradley.”

“I'm offering you what you want.”

“You're dangling bait in hopes of seeing me on my knees, baring my neck to your glory. It
won't happen.”

“You misunderstand. I want you to stand with me, not kneel at my feet.”

Gerard barked out a laugh, genuinely amused. “You've never wanted anyone to stand beside
you. Even your pride and joy is cleaning the scuff off your boots.” Gerard motioned
offhandedly to Selim, who frowned but otherwise failed to react.

“How about a new deal then? Keep your honesty. Give me your friend.”

“Ed isn't—”

“Roa.”

Gerard's anger surged. He leaned into the bloodlust for a blissful moment of all-consuming
hatred, then pushed himself off the wall and calmly asked, “You want Roa?”

“I want you to prove your loyalty. The price of standing by my side is your honesty. The
price of kneeling at my feet? Roa.”

“Fuck you.”

“The future is coming, Gerard. I'm only trying to prepare you for it.”
Selim cut in with a quick, “Put aside how much you hate Father for a moment and focus on
Elric's capabilities. He can fight off a chimera, maybe even ten chimeras. But what can he do
against a hundred? Or a thousand? He's going to die, Uncle. If you really care about him, you
should be looking for a way to keep him safe, not pushing him towards his impending
demise.”

“Selim, I know you're excited to play with the big boys, but do us all a favor and shut your
goddamn mouth until you know what you're talking about.”

“I know exactly what I'm talking about.”

“If that were true, then you'd know there's no such thing as keeping him safe. Either Brad's
going to die or Ed's going to die. There's no compromise. And with the warpath Brad is on,
there's no way he'll consider a ceasefire. Even if he found it in his rotted heart to bring Ed
back to life afterward, it would only be to kill him again. Understand?”

“I can assure you, Father cares more about creating the stone than revenge on Elric.”

“Which brings us back to you shutting up.” Gerard returned his attention to Brad. “Bottom
line: I'm not going to lie, and you're never getting Roa. Anything else you want to talk about,
or are we done here?”

“We don't have to part like this, Gerard. I know you think Elric is the answer, but he'll never
be there for you like we will. Even if you manage to get back into his good graces, you've got
far more to hide than a circle in your backyard. If he knew what you are—what you've done
—he'd never forgive you. Then what would all this conflict even be for?”

Gerard opened his mouth only to stop short. He had a million things to say (about how they
were never there for him, about how Ed hadn't been fooled by their tricks, about how Ed
would accept Gerard even if he knew), but none of them mattered because Ed did know. He
knew about Gerard's muted soul and lack of morals. He knew Gerard killed without regret.
He knew, and he didn't care.

Suddenly, all of the hatred and anger burning in Gerard's chest just wasn't there.

This meeting, these people, none of them mattered. The last half hour of his life had been a
boring waste of time, and if being here with them was what it took to stay out of Brad's
crosshairs, he didn't want it.

He didn't want it.

The revelation made Gerard feel lighter than he had in a long time. His family stared at him,
and he laughed as he realized Brad was still waiting for an answer.

“I . . . I'm done.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm done. That's just . . .” Gerard shrugged. “I'm done.”

He hesitated, then nodded, content with that being the end. Trisha—the only sibling Gerard
felt any sort of attachment toward—held out a hand. He brushed past her. Every second with
them was a second wasted, and they didn't deserve that. Not his seconds.

Not anymore.

(***Intertwined***)

Trisha watched the door for a few seconds after Gerard left.

While she didn’t care about Bradley, his stone, the blood array, the chimeras, or even what
Bradley wanted from her, she was mildly interested in Gerard’s decision to leave. The
inconvenience of playing along with Bradley’s schemes was nothing compared to the effort it
would take to go against him. So why do it?

Gerard didn’t have an issue with the plan itself. Slaughtering millions was a hassle, not a
deal-breaker. He wasn’t backing out because of recent tensions with Bradley, either. Yes,
Gerard wanted to kill their eldest sibling, but he always wanted to do that. He very rarely felt
like acting on it. The only other possible reason to leave was Edward Elric, and Trisha didn’t
understand that at all.

It was one thing to have gained Bradley’s ire, but Gerard’s favor?

“My, my. He actually left.” Solaris giggled into her hand. “What a bold move.”

“Where’d he go?” Gordon looked around mindlessly, mouth open like a dog’s. “Is he coming
back?”

“Give him time.” Bradley smoothed out a paper on his desk. Angry. “He always comes
around.”

Trisha rested her head on the back of the chair, careful to keep her siblings in view. What
Bradley said wasn’t incorrect, but it overlooked the importance of setting a low bar.
Generally, the risks and rewards for helping Bradley were set very heavily in Gerard’s favor.
This time, Edward Elric was tipping the scales.

Selim calmly asked, “And if he doesn’t?”

“We’re family, Selim. If he doesn’t come back on his own, we’ll drag him back. For his own
good.”

Selim’s lips pursed as his eyes darkened. He didn’t agree with the decision. “Yes, Father.”

Trisha cuddled further into her seat, trying to find a comfortable position to nap. It was rare
for Selim to conceal his anger when around family. The fact that he was hiding it meant he
was plotting, or at least considering plotting, against one of them. Probably Bradley.
 Only—Selim was too risk-averse to actively plot against Bradley. So, someone else’s plan
then. Gordon was too stupid, and Solaris was having too much fun. That left Gerard, which
meant he’d never intended to take Bradley’s side. Attending this meeting at all had been a
farce as a double agent, and the decision to leave hadn’t been about going against Bradley. It
was about publicity. Gerard, for whatever reason, no longer felt the need to hide his
allegiances, and he wasn’t afraid of what Bradley might do to ruin those relationships.
Which, in turn, meant—

Edward Elric knew.

Trisha blinked, surprised at her own conclusion. Gerard often did crazy things to sate his
urges, but not at the risk of revealing their Shadow Cores. That information in the hands of an
enemy could be detrimental. Even if it didn’t kill them, it could potentially strip them of their
cushy positions in society. Bradley would cease to be Führer. Gerard would lose all his nice
things. Trisha would have to . . . to work for a living.

She frowned just thinking about it. Why would Gerard do that? She understood risking the
rest of the family, but endangering his own lifestyle in the process? It didn’t make any sense.
Trisha breathed a soft sigh, accepting that she’d need more information before deciding how
much effort this debacle was worth.

“Alright. I might be in.” Trisha met Bradley’s eyes. His posture straightened ever so slightly.
Pleased. Proud. “But I have a condition first.”

“Name it.”

“I want to meet him. The boy who turned Gerard against you.” She snuggled into the
comfortable, expensive upholstery, eyes never leaving Bradley’s. “Let me meet Edward
Elric.”

Selim stilled, interested. Solaris hummed, amused. Gordon stared, uncomprehending.

Bradley smiled, arrogant. Trisha closed her eyes, bored.

“Consider it done.”

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 33
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Lieutenant Colonel Elric?”

Ed glanced up to see an unfamiliar soldier standing in the doorway. If any of Mustang’s unit
recognized him, they didn’t say so. The man had long black hair tied back in a ponytail and
two loose strands framing his face. He smiled genially. Ed didn’t smile back.

“Yeah?”

“Would mind coming with me? The Führer is requesting your presence.”

Ed frowned. “Requesting?”

“It can be an order, if you’d like. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”

Ed huffed and closed his book. He left it on the floor with a stack of others as he stood. “How
long’s this supposed to take?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. I’m only the messenger.”

Ed snorted. He didn’t believe that for a second. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

The man’s smile grew a centimeter wider. Rather than moving out of the way, he held out a
hand for Ed to shake. “Lee. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ed roughly accepted the greeting. “Ed.”

“Ed. How wonderfully informal.” Lee reopened the door and swept out an arm for Ed to go
first. Ed glanced back to see Havoc nod, then left. Once the door shut behind them, Lee said,
“This may seem unprofessional, but I actually requested to be the one to fetch you.”

Edward grunted. “That so?”

“Indeed.” Lee kept a casual pace as he led Ed through the halls. If he was concerned about
getting to Brad in a timely manner, he didn’t show it. “You could say I’m a fan of your work.
You could also say I was curious about the man who so brazenly challenged the Führer.”

Ed hummed, disinterested.

Lee continued, “My coworkers think you’ll lose this battle, but I wonder. With a will as
strong as yours and that indomitable need to protect innocents, you may win out yet.”

“And what do you do, exactly?”

“Research experimental alchemy. Nothing as glory-worthy as saving the city, I’m afraid, but
it puts dinner on the table.”

“I’d rather have knowledge than glory any day.” Ed caught Lee’s interested glance and
responded with a shrug. “Have you published anything?”

“Not officially. I often read your brother’s papers though. He’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, he is.” As they neared Brad’s office, Ed tapped his palm against his thigh. The array
allowing him to read Core alchemy centered in Brad’s office, but its reach extended past the
walls, into the hallway. Ed turned to say he had it from there only to falter. His escort’s aura
was a bright, sunny yellow.

Lee was the one who painted the array at Greeling’s house.

Rather than waving Lee off, as planned, Ed tilted his head. “What did you say your full name
was again?”

“I didn’t.” Lee’s smile twitched with amusement. They stopped outside Brad’s office. “I do
hope we meet again, Ed.”

“We will.” Ed took a small step into Lee’s personal space. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Until then.” Lee nodded and walked away. Ed watched as Lee reached the end of the array’s
circle of influence and the yellow around his silhouette faded away. Only after Lee turned the
corner did Ed knock on Brad’s door.

One more player identified. One more cog ready to be ripped from the machine. Brad was
still ahead of them, but not by much. Ed rolled his shoulders. They could do this.

“Come in.”

(***Intertwined***)

Stiff posture and a frown. Those were the only signs that Elric was surprised to see so many
Homunculi together in one room. Selim watched golden eyes sweep over each one of them
and noted the way Elric kept his back to the door. The boy had stepped into a den of lions,
and he knew it.

What he clearly didn’t know was why this was happening. Selim clasped his hands behind
his back as he waited to see who would make the first move. For as much as this meeting had
been called for Aunt Trisha, Selim needed it, too. To betray or not to betray. Was the
Fullmetal Alchemist worth the risk? Hopefully, this meeting would tell.

Elric used a blasé tone to ask, “Am I interrupting something?”

Selim’s father smiled. “My apologies. We need to retake your Core measurement, and my son
was quite adamant about thanking you for saving him during your promotional ceremony.
Two birds, one stone.”

Elric frowned, not even trying to hide his disbelief. “And the rest of them?”

“We lead very busy lives, and our schedules rarely align. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t.” Elric glanced around again. “Where’s Greeling?”

“He couldn’t make it.” The Führer’s smile turned placating. “Please, have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.” Elric looked over his shoulder, toward the door. “And Greeling could
make it. I’d even go so far as to say he did make it. So what’d you do to scare him away?”

Selim blinked, then studied the door, wondering what Elric saw. His father said, “I’m afraid I
don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t.” Amber eyes swiveled to the right, toward Aunt Solaris and Uncle
Gordon. “But I bet you do.”

Solaris raised one manicured finger to her lips, coy and seductive. “Such high praise, to
assume I know something the Führer King doesn’t.”

“Not you. Him.” Elric maintained eye contact with Uncle Gordon as he said, “You’re
Gordon, right? Do you know where your brother Gerard went?”

Uncle Gordon grinned: mouth open, tongue lolling. He nodded. “Left.”

“Left where?”

“Here.”

“When?”

“Not now. Earlier. He’s done.”

Selim’s father laid both hands on his desk, fingers over fist. “That’s quite enough now,
Gordon.”

Elric smiled, and it was the smile of wolves. “Well would you look at that. Even the village
idiot knows more than the Führer King. I’d like to say I’m surprised but . . .” He trailed off
with a shrug.

Aunt Solaris tittered. Aunt Trisha looked between Elric and the Führer, for once every bit as
alert as the rest of the room. The fury that rose in Selim’s father was monumental, but he kept
it on a tight, choking leash. He said, “I’ve been kind enough to leave your family out of our
little game. I’d appreciate it if you did the same.”
Elric watched Selim’s father for an extra beat, and Selim could see the urge to fight slide into
his posture. Rather than addressing anything Selim’s father had said, Elric asked, “What hurts
more?”

Strong black brows crinkled ever so slightly. Genuine confusion. “I’ll need more context.”

“Context is Greeling. Does it hurt more that chose me or that he chose me over you?”

Selim straightened at the calm jab. Perfectly timed. Perfectly placed. Aunt Solaris hid a smile
behind her hand. Even Aunt Trisha lifted her head to see how her brother would react.

The Führer only smiled wider. “Gerard has always enjoyed asserting his independence, and
he always returns home when he’s finished.”

Elric whistled lowly, undeterred. “That’s what makes you the better man, I guess. I mean, if
my little brother left me for a different head of household because I wasn’t good enough . . .
?” His inflection dropped off, blunt and insulting. “I’d be humiliated.”

The entire room stilled. If looks could kill, Elric would be dead. The affront had been
delivered with a cold calculation, and behind that: anger. Beautiful, malicious anger that
knew to strike while the iron was hot. For the first time, Selim looked at Elric not as a boy
biting off more than he could chew but as a man choosing his battles. A wolf circling prey.
Selim’s interest spiked, and the impulse to side with Uncle Gerard spiked with it.

Selim’s father was no longer smiling. “Part of being a child is going astray. It’s the duty of
head of household to patiently await their return. If you remain head of household long
enough, you’ll see that.”

Elric looked to the left, unimpressed by the badly-veiled threat, then his eyes dilated. Blonde
eyebrows rose while chapped lips parted in silent realization. Selim waited for an
explanation, but it never came. Elric’s gaze moved to the desk, his interest in the Führer all
but gone. “We reading my Core or what?”

“Are you in a rush, Lieutenant Colonel?”

“Wouldn’t want to keep you from your family is all.” Elric stepped further into the room,
willingly surrounding himself on all sides, and motioned to the fist-sized Core reader on the
desk. “That it?”

“It is.”

Selim saw Aunt Trisha shift behind Elric, likely so she could see his face as he was
measured. The reader was rigged, of course, but Aunt Trisha had requested this meeting
specifically to observe Elric. Considering how much smarter she was than the rest of them,
Selim could only hope she would choose to share her findings later.

Elric placed his palm on the stone, which turned a light red. The counter connected to the
stone rose to fifty-one and stopped. Elric lifted his hand, unsurprised. “Can I go now?”
Selim hurried over to Elric before his father could respond. “Mister Elric?” Selim peered
shyly up through his lashes, tone flush with wonder. “I—I wanted to say thank you. For
saving me. I was”—Selim pitched his voice up, affecting fear, and blinked away false tears
—“I was really scared.”

Selim expected a warm smile and gentle reassurances. What he got was a stare bored and
knowing enough to belong to Uncle Gerard. Elric crouched so he was eye-level with Selim,
put a hand on Selim’s shoulder, and leaned in to whisper, “Look, we don’t know each other,
and I don’t necessarily want to kill you, so here’s a pro-tip. Keep acting like you’re ten, and
I’ll break your fucking teeth in.”

For a split second, shock overrode anger. Elric knew about him. Selim’s heart thumped like a
weight in his chest as he tried to figure out what that meant. Knowledge was an advantage, so
why reveal himself? And why only to Selim? Did he think Selim was allied with Uncle
Gerard? If so, why risk Selim’s wrath with a threat? What was the purpose of Elric’s actions?
Selim kept his body language neutral, unsure whether to affirm or deny Elric’s beliefs.

Elric took the decision out of his hands by standing and shooing Selim away. “If there’s
nothing else . . . ?” Elric looked first to Aunt Solaris, then to Uncle Gordon, then to Aunt
Trisha, before finally settling on Selim’s father.

“You’re dismissed.”

Elric gave a lazy, two-finger salute and turned to leave. Aunt Trisha caught him by the arm as
he went. They stared at each other, seeming to have an entire conversation without saying a
single word. She lifted her head. He sneered. She raised her eyebrows. He pursed his lips.
She laid her head back down. His expression relaxed into something closer to understanding,
maybe even fondness. She let go. He left.

Selim was the first to ask, “What was that about?”

Aunt Trisha lifted her shoulders in what barely qualified as a shrug. “Gerard.” Her gaze
meandered over to Selim. “I would ask what he whispered to you, but I can already guess.”
She smiled, half-humorous, half-mocking. Selim’s anger burned anew.

“My guess is it was a warning against us. Perhaps our misdeeds?” Aunt Solaris tossed Selim
a playful smile. “Am I close?”

Selim pretended not to notice the way Aunt Solaris overlooked Aunt Trisha’s interaction with
Elric, but fury and indignation boiled his blood. Aunt Solaris believed Aunt Trisha too smart
to fall prey to her games. Her opinion of Selim was much lower.

He returned her smile with matching sincerity. “You’re exactly right, Aunt Solaris. He said
not to trust you or Father. He also assured me that he’s always there if I need him.” He
maintained eye contact, daring Aunt Solaris to contradict him.

She tilted her head as her smile twitched wider. “How quaint.” It was impossible to tell if she
believed him or not, but she was amused enough to leave it be either way.
“Was that sufficient, Trisha?” The Führer used a low, pleased voice to draw everyone’s
attention. Aunt Trisha hummed noncommittally. His father continued, “What say you? Are
you with us?”

“I don’t know if I’m that committed, but I’ll listen.” She frowned like even that small
concession was a wearying amount of work. “If I do end up agreeing, I’d like my payment—
the money to keep my lifestyle intact—in advance. You know”—she eyed Selim’s father
through thick lashes—“in case you lose.”

Selim expected his father to respond angrily, but the man’s smile only sweetened. “Of
course.”

Like a breath of fresh chloroform, Selim’s urge to betray his father calmed. For unlike the
majority of his father’s expressions, that smile was genuine. Humorous, even. It spoke
leagues of his thoughts on the likelihood of loss, and, at least in this case, the arrogance was
warranted. Elric’s continued bull-in-a-Drachma-shop approach was proof enough of that.
Vast resources. Unprecedented knowledge. And still, he was playing directly into the
Führer’s hand.

While Selim’s father couldn’t hone fury to save his life, when it came to utilizing resources
and outmaneuvering opponents, he was king.

(***Intertwined***)

Ed knew he should go back to Mustang’s unit. Mustang was no doubt waiting to hear about
the meeting, and Ed actually had information worth sharing.

But that book . . .

Ed recognized its importance the moment he saw it. Philosophy of the Soul by Adeana
Narkov, written in its original Aerugonian. At least six-hundred years old. Rare. Rarer than
rare. Ed actively sought books by Narkov, and he’d never even heard of that one.

Narkov was known for experimental alchemy so dark that Ed had never seen one of her
books outside a restricted section or black market. They were taboo and generally correct,
making them doubly valuable. Books like Narkov’s didn’t disappear on their own. The fact
that they were practically extinct meant Brad had put in the time and effort to make it so.
Unfortunately, that also meant Ed could only think of one place the book might be.

Armstrong Manor.

The Armstrongs were an incredibly old, incredibly rich family. Their library was bound to be
impressive and, more importantly, untouched by the Führer. If there was a six-hundred-year-
old banned book to be found, it was there. And Ed needed to know what it said.

“Fullmetal?”
Ed pushed his bangs out of his face, and the sweat from running all the way to Armstrong
Manor kept them back. “Armstrong. Hey.” He breathed deeply, enjoying the burn in his
lungs. “Can I come in?”

Armstrong moved to the side to let him through. She was dressed in casual work-out clothes,
and the sheen of sweat on her skin matched Ed’s own. “You’re early.”

“I’m . . .” Ed scrunched his brows. “Oh, shit. Dinner. Yeah. That’s not why I’m here.” He
glanced around the large, marble entryway. “Where’s your library?”

“Second floor, third door on the right. What are you looking for?”

Ed was halfway up the staircase by the time he shouted, “Philosophy of the Soul by Narkov.”
He ran to the library without waiting for an answer.

The library was as gorgeous as he’d thought it would be. Rows and rows of books towering
above him. Staircases leading up into the third and possibly fourth floors. The urge to peruse
until his arms were filled was strong, but he was there for a reason. He climbed another set of
stairs to find nonfiction alchemy authors whose surnames began with ‘N.’

Nahlin. Nambi. Nao-Xiao.

Narkov.

Triumph sang in Ed’s blood as he pulled the thick tome from the shelf.

“Find what you’re looking for?”

Ed glanced over his shoulder to see Armstrong had followed him. He grinned. “Yeah.” The
book was old, maybe even older than the Führer’s copy. Ed held it like a treasure as he
carried it over to one of the many lounging areas. “I didn’t know this existed until I saw it in
Brad’s office.”

Armstrong raised a single, elegant eyebrow.

Ed shrugged. “I read a fuck-ton of books.”

“And you think this book will help you?”

“I think if we’re going to beat Brad at his own game, this book is a good start.”

Armstrong looked him over, gathering her own data and drawing her own conclusions, before
nodding. “Very well. Are there any other books you would find helpful?”

“Nothing specific, but if you’ve got anything on the philosopher’s stone or Shadow Cores,
I’d love to see them.”

“What languages do you know?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you’ve got it, I’ll find a way to read it.”
“I’ll go check.” She left without another word.

Ed carefully cracked the cover, and the air filled with the magical scent of old, rarely opened
books. The title page was handwritten in beautiful Aerugonian while the paper itself was
yellowed and fragile. Awe blossomed in his heart as he realized it wasn’t a copy. He was
holding a book written by Narkov herself. He ran a gloved finger carefully over the title,
absolutely in love with the work and dedication that went into creating it, then got to work.

He got a hundred and twenty pages in before he found the arrays.

Years ago, in a dark cavern in Kavel, I stumbled upon rumors of a stone capable of
performing inequivalent exchange. The natives cursed it as witchcraft, but I was irreparably
intrigued. Alchemy without equivalent exchange? Surely it was impossible, and yet . . .

I had to have it. I had to know. Was there such a thing as this sorcerer’s stone? If so, how did
it work? What price need be paid, if not an equivalent one? I devoted my life to finding the
answer, and after much experimentation, I achieved my goal. The stone exists.

Before going into detail on the stone’s creation, I must separate rumor from fact. Yes, the
stone does exist. Yes, it can perform incredible feats without visible payment or an active
array. Yes, it can do the impossible. It is not, however, capable of inequivalent exchange.

Allow me to explain. Unlike other alchemy, which is based on turning one physical substance
into another, the stone functions on an exchange of worth. As long as what you give to create
the stone is equal, in your eyes, to what you will receive, it will work.

Take my husband for example. I sacrificed him to create the stone, then used the stone to
bring him back. He materialized in front of me, alive and well. One life in exchange for the
exact same life. Equivalent exchange. The stone, with its powers drained, turned to dust.

The second time I sacrificed my husband, I used the stone to repair our home to its former
glory. The stone remained intact but was unable to bring my husband back. I used the
remainder of the stone to heal my son’s injuries—he had fallen off the roof in an attempt to fix
the chimney weeks back—then it turned to dust.

Finally, I sacrificed my son. The idea was to bring my husband back, but the stone did not
work. I pondered over this for days and days. My son was stronger, younger, and healthier. By
all means, I should be able to trade his life for my husband’s with stone to spare. That was
when I realized the exchange was not physical. It was mental.

I could not trade my son for my husband because, in my eyes, they were not equal. My son
was a kind but stupid boy who helped with the housework. My husband, the love of my life. To
get my husband back, I would have to give up something equal in worth. Unfortunately, the
only thing which could equal the love I have for my husband is my knowledge, and I am
unwilling to part with it.

For those of you who still wish to pursue the stone, regardless of its drawbacks and
limitations, know that very few arrays are wholly incorrect. There are many theories and
many variations on the array required to create the stone, but only one element truly matters.
Sacrifice.

You must sacrifice a soul whose value is equal to that which you wish to gain. The most
reliable arrays, of course, are drawn in blood, but for a lesser stone, charcoal will do. Now,
I’m sure some of you are thinking ‘This is impossible. The thing I want is priceless.’ Fear not,
young scholars. The stone is capable of delivering on even the wildest of wishes. You must
only offer something priceless in return.

Before you fret over what, exactly, counts as priceless, know that there are array options for
even the ficklest of alchemists. The array below, for example, judges intent upon being
drawn. When offerings are made within the circle, they are compiled, one on top of the other,
until the threshold for worth is reached.

Ed glanced at the array, which mirrored the one painted over Ishval, and turned the page.

If that doesn’t work—if no number of stray sacrifices can amount to the worth of your desire
—I recommend the array below. Rather than accepting every sacrifice and summating their
worth, this array lies dormant. When it senses something of equal worth within its borders, it
will activate, taking what it is due and rewarding you with the stone.

The caveat here is that the array is unable to tell which soul activated it. Everyone within the
circle during its activation will be counted as part of the sacrifice. Depending on how much
you care for innocent bystanders, this can also be considered a perk. The accidental
sacrifices will still be tallied based on worth as you see it and thus increase the power of the
stone. And if you do happen to sacrifice someone you care about, simply keep your avarice in
check and bring them back.

Or don’t. Loved ones, after all, are worth quite a lot.

Ed stared at the array drawn on the page—the array drawn over Central—with unseeing eyes.
He’d known Narkov was sick, but not like this. Not to the point of sacrificing her family for a
little extra information. His stomach churned just thinking about how her son and husband
must have felt as she betrayed them. Murdered them. He tasted bile thinking about all the
other arrays she must’ve tested and, with that, the lives she must have sacrificed.

He glanced up to see Armstrong had brought him over three dozen books, only nine of which
he’d already read. A few authors with dark tendencies similar to Narkov stood out, and the
knowledge that this would hardly be the worst of his research momentarily deadened his
eyes.

He went back to reading.

(***Intertwined***)
Roy expected Edward to report in directly after his impromptu meeting with the Führer, so of
course that didn’t happen. Which was fine, overall. If Edward wasn’t reporting in, it was
likely because he didn’t think there was anything worth reporting. In the meantime, Roy had
plenty of other issues requiring his attention. He could wait.

Or, he started out being able to wait. Then Edward ran off into the sunset with Olivier
Armstrong and never returned, and Roy could think about little else.

Distance had prevented him from considering her competition in the past, which was clearly
a mistake. It wasn’t hard to predict how much Edward would enjoy her violent temper and
brash personality. Roy was just an overconfident idiot who’d thought it would never come
into play. Thanks to that, Edward was, for all intents and purposes, on a date with a beautiful
woman who outranked, outclassed, and out-wealthed Roy.

All that talk about defining their ever-ambiguous relationship, and not once had it occurred to
Roy that he should clarify they weren’t supposed to date other people. He could’ve. He
should’ve. By the Gate, Fullmetal was constantly telling him that they weren’t dating. Roy
had just never imagined that meant they were free to date others. Hell, he’d thought Fullmetal
was being cute.

As it turned out, Edward’s charming phobia of commitment hadn’t led to them falling into
bed together, but to Fullmetal taking Roy’s superior out in his place. And yes, Roy was
jealous. He had probably never been more jealous in his life. He was practically burning with
jealousy from the inside out, and he could do nothing about it because they weren’t dating.
They were just kissing, cuddling, and bringing each other to the heights of pleasure while
carving out a plausible path to genuine happiness.

God, was this how Roy’s one-night-stands felt afterwards?

Plenty of them had claimed a personal connection and asked for something more, but he’d
always brushed them off with a pleasant smile and a knee-weakening goodbye kiss. He didn’t
care about them on a personal level. He didn’t think about them again after leaving. He
certainly hadn’t considered how they must’ve felt as he wined and dined someone new right
in front of them.

If they felt anything close to Roy’s current cocktail of diffidence, resentment, and envy, then
he really was just as much of an ass as Edward believed. Unfortunately, that little nugget of
self-discovery was too little, too late. All Roy could do was wait.

By the time the front door opened, Roy had finished half his paperwork, written three
speeches, and decorated the table with a now-cold four course meal. Roy tensed, felt the
bitterness that would surely infest ‘How was your date?’ and decided not to say anything at
all. He heard Fullmetal shuffling around in the entryway, no doubt removing his cloak and
boots.

Irritation and insecurity simmered under Roy’s skin. Would Edward even notice he was
upset? Would he care? If Roy started the conversation by pointing out his desire for
exclusivity, would Edward agree? If not, how should Roy respond? It wasn’t like breaking
things off or offering ultimatums were really options. There were too many variables, too
many unknowns, and Roy’s heart was too filled with ire.

Metal clinked against tile as Edward walked into the kitchen. Roy continued to stare at his
paperwork. A thick book thumped against the table. The chair scraped against the floor.

“This food for me?”

Roy’s response was snide. “Didn’t you eat with Armstrong?”

“No. Lost track of time.”

Roy lifted his head, and the snark died on his tongue. Edward looked exhausted. “What
happened?”

“A lot. The meeting with Brad was a sham. He said it was to remeasure my Core, but the
whole fucking family was there. I was right about the dark green aura belonging to Lust, and
the mossy green one is her brother’s. Gluttony.”

“Gordon?”

“Yeah. I saw the sunny yellow one again, too. It’s Lee. The guy who got me for the meeting. I
don’t know who he actually is, but he’s bad news. On top of that, I’ve got no fucking clue
why Brad actually called me there. The only upside is the book I saw on his bookcase.”

Roy glanced at the book on the table in question.

Edward shook his head. “No. It’s not a book I’d heard of before. I went straight to the
Armstrongs’ to see if they had it in their library.” He hesitated. Pushed his bangs back.
Continued to stare at the table. “Sorry. I know you were waiting on me, but I had to find that
book.”

Guilt curled in Roy’s gut. “It’s fine. What did you find?”

Blonde brows scrunched, and when Edward breathed out, one of his walls came down. Flesh
and metal shoulders slumped tiredly. Golden eyes stared unseeingly at the table. Expressive
lips pressed into a thin, defeated line. Roy’s heart stuttered as he realized he’d seen that
particular expression before, after the Hughes were attacked.

“The chimeras, they uh, I think they’re meant for the stone. Because it’s not really
inequivalent exchange, and Brad wants something he considers priceless. But he’s not going
to give up himself, and he’s not going to give up his title, so the next best thing is to give up
something he considers better than what he currently has. Yeah?”

“Sorry, Fullmetal. I don’t follow.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m not making a lot of sense. It’s a, uh . . .” He licked his lips. “It’s
godhood, I think. Power. The creation of new life. I think Brad’s trying to create what he
considers the perfect being, and when he succeeds, the array will activate. He doesn’t have
the chimera array down, or he’d already have struck, but he’s close. You can see it in the
chimeras that have already attacked. If I had to guess, I’d say the other thing he’s missing is
the perfect specimen.” He rested his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands. “I
think he’s going to use Greeling.”

Roy stiffened as empathy and shame dug their claws into his lungs. “Why do you think that?”

Edward pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and took a deep breath. When he raised
his head again, the walls were back up. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll go to his place this weekend
and help fortify it as best I can. There’s still a mountain of books at the Armstrongs’ for me to
read, so I’ll be heading there after class. Don’t bother waiting up.”

“Noted.” Roy paused to take in the determined, regretful set of Edward’s jaw. “What else?”

Edward’s gaze was heavy. He examined Roy with an apologetic calculation that Roy was
used to seeing in Maes, and Roy knew Edward was deciding whether or not to share more.
Weighing the pros and cons, as it were, for trusting Roy. Eventually, Edward sighed.

“We need to kill the Führer.”

Roy nearly choked on his own spit. “No.”

“I’m not asking, Mustang. I’m telling. This is kill or be killed, and right now, we’re
practically lining ourselves up for his convenience.”

“The only thing that’s changed since we last spoke is that we know more about his plans.
That’s a step closer to victory, not defeat. If we expose his chimera operation, he’ll be
stripped of his title and imprisoned. That’s the path we take.”

Edward’s eyes hardened. His lips downturned in a displeased frown, but the vehement
argument Roy expected was absent. Instead, he softly explained, “I see the way you guys
look at me when I say this is war. You think I’m emotional. You think I’m headstrong. What
you don’t stop to think about is what happens if I’m right. It doesn’t matter if you imprison
Brad because he has the connections to escape and keep going. It doesn’t matter if he loses
his position because all he has to do is activate the blood array, and all of Central City will be
wiped out. That array is linked directly to Brad’s desires. So long as he’s alive, it’s viable.
Whether he’s the one that creates the chimera or not.”

“All the more reason for us to bring him down before he finishes the array.” When Edward’s
only reaction was an unimpressed stare, Roy lowered his voice to hiss, “We cannot
assassinate the Führer. He’s the most powerful man in Amestris, and we’re his most visible
enemies. I can’t provide an airtight alibi if I actually killed him, and my political career won’t
recover from that kind of open-fire.” He paused, then lowered his voice further to whisper,
“If—if—we can’t stop him before the array is finished, that’s when we start looking at other
avenues. Until then . . .” He shook his head. “The answer is no.”

Golden eyes closed, resigned but not defeated. “If I get a clear shot, I’m taking it.”

“Edward—”
“You don’t see it yet, but you will. I only hope it’s not too late when you do.”

Edward reopened his eyes. He wasn’t angry or accusing. Just resolute. It was then Roy
realized he was speaking not to Edward Elric, but The Fullmetal Alchemist. This was a man
who put his life on the line for the rights and liberties of strangers without having to be asked.
He fought more battles than he turned down, and he didn’t always win. It was futile to point
out the personal risks because he didn’t care. This wasn’t about Edward’s future or safety. It
was about the people.

Just like always.

Suddenly, Roy felt childish. Edward hadn’t gone on a date with Armstrong. He’d utilized a
resource. He worked himself to the bone, yet again without expecting thanks or praise, and
come home to Roy being a passive-aggressive ass. Sometimes it was hard to tell which one
of them was actually older.

Roy swallowed thickly. “Please, Fullmetal. I know there’s a lot at stake here, but you have to
trust me on this. Stand down until we can prove his guilt and arrest him. Give me time.”

“And if he finishes the array first?”

“Then we consider alternative routes.”

Edward’s sneer said he didn’t agree, but he didn’t say anything to the contrary, either.

Roy glanced at the clock to see it was nearly one in the morning and sighed. “You haven’t
eaten yet, have you?” Edward’s stomach answered for him, and Roy waved a hand over their
cold dinner. “Go ahead. It’s for you.”

Edward hesitated, but his appetite won out. He murmured his thanks and piled food onto a
plate. Roy expected some tense dinner-talk, like complaints about the catty way he’d greeted
Edward or an in-depth look at Edward’s side of the kill-the-Führer argument, but it never
came. Edward ate in silence.

It was Roy who broke the tension by admitting, “I thought you were on a date.”

Blonde brows scrunched. “With who? Armstrong?”

Roy nodded.

Edward tilted his head thoughtfully. After a moment, he made a face like he understood the
appeal and hummed. “She does have a better library than you.”

Roy rolled his eyes. Of course that was what Edward would focus on. “Fullmetal, are you . . .
Do you want . . .” Roy licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I would like for our whatever-
this-is to be exclusive. What about you?”

“Nope.”
 The single word was deadpanned and delivered between bites of food. Devastation and
irritation washed through Roy’s chest. “Why not?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m not interested in anyone else. And if I were going to
do whatever-this-is with not-you, I’d break it off with you first.” His fork clattered against the
empty plate as he pushed his dinnerware away. “I just think you should keep your options
open is all.”

“Hold up. You want me to see other people?”

“No. I just . . . Ask me again after Brad is dead.”

Roy’s first instinct was to rehash the fact that they were not going to assassinate the most
powerful man in Amestris. Then he saw Edward’s desire, comfort, and apology buried
beneath the exhaustion. Edward liked that Roy wanted to be exclusive. He liked the attention,
and he liked the commitment. He just wouldn’t let himself have it.

Rather than agreeing or disagreeing, Roy said, “I’m not dating anyone else.”

Amber eyes warmed with mirth. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

“Is there a return policy?”

“No.”

Edward scoffed, but rather than taking his book and moving upstairs, he started reading at the
table. While it was a small gesture of unity that did nothing to solve the large-scale issues
brewing between them, Roy was still grateful. No matter how they decided to proceed on the
Führer front, they would do it together. Edward’s flesh foot purposefully brushed Roy’s leg
under the table. Roy’s Core flushed with contentment. He glanced up to see what Edward
wanted, but golden eyes remained glued to the book. Roy hooked his toes around the back of
Edward’s ankle. Edward smiled.

The words I love you crowded behind Roy’s teeth. He swallowed them down.

Chapter End Notes

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