Chapter Text
Ed wakes to sunlight streaming through the window. Maybe it’s the sleep still fogging his brain, but the light seems to be casting a golden sheen across the room.
Winry is snuggled against his front, arms wrapped around his waist. Her head is tucked in under his chin, face pressed into his neck.
For a moment, he just lays there with her, breathing in the scent of her hair.
It’s so peaceful.
He wants to slip back into sleep, just stay here forever, with her by his side.
It’s so warm here.
The darkness makes its move to entrap him, eyes fluttering shut.
His eyes snap back open.
Mustang!
He and Hawkeye are leaving today.
It might not be indefinite this time around- they have the freedom to go and see them whenever they please- but he didn’t get to say good-bye to… anyone really the last time around.
He’s not letting that happen a second time.
Especially not after everything they’ve done for him.
He carefully disentangles himself from Winry.
“Winry?” Hand on her shoulder, he gently shakes her awake. He hates to wake her, but she’ll want to give her own good-bye to Mustang and Hawkeye and, well, honestly, he’d rather not face her wrath if she realized he hadn’t woken her in time to see them off.
She groans, arching her back and stretching. “What is it, Ed?”
“It’s morning,” he says, whispering even though there’s no need to. It almost seems criminal to disrupt the peaceful silence of the morning. “They’re leaving.”
Her eyes fly open and she blinks mutely at the ceiling for a moment.
“Oh. We need to get up then.”
Ed chuckles fondly, gripping her hand. “Yeah, genius. Let’s get up.”
“Don’t laugh at me.” Winry closes her eyes again. “I’m still waking up.”
“Whatever you say.” Ed brushes a couple loose strands of hair away from her face. He’s letting himself get distracted again and he pushes himself upright. He’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday, he realizes. He and Winry both actually. He runs the palm of his hand down his front, doing his best to smooth out some of the wrinkles, then lets it be.
Winry grabs his hand. “Help me up?”
Ed gently pulls her upright. “You big baby,” he teases, but it’s softer.
He still can’t forget her blood.
No.
He pushes the memory away. He won’t let it sully this morning.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
The morning of the departure brings a cloudless sky, the sun shining brightly down on all of them.
A songbird trills from the fence that runs alongside the dirt road.
Al takes a moment to suck in the fresh air.
Even now, he still feels the urge to run laughing along the grass, the way he and Ed did when they were younger.
Something holds him back.
“Are you sure you don’t need us to stay?” Riza asks, pausing beside him.
Mustang stands several yards away, conversing with the driver who will be taking them back.
“Yes,” Al assures her with a smile. It will be hard, moving forward, but they’ll manage. He and Mei aren’t planning on going back to Xing for at least another month. They’ve already made the necessary arrangements with Ling, although technically, Al thinks, it’s Emperor Ling now.
Although he had attempted the formalities earlier on, Ling had insisted on no such thing. Just the opposite in fact.
It was something of a relief anyways.
No matter how high he had risen in station, Ling would always be just Ling to him.
“I appreciate the offer,” he continues, “but I think we’ll be fine. Mei and I will be here for at least another month.”
“Well, then,” Riza says, “if you’re sure.”
“I am sure. Thanks.”
“Mustang!”
His brother’s abrupt shout startles him, but Al turns around with a grin.
Ed stands in the doorway. His hair is still in its braid, but various strands poke up here and there.
“Brother!” Al raises a hand in greeting. “You’re up!”
“Yeah, I’m up.” Ed runs a hand over his head, but the unruly tufts of hair stay put.
Winry appears on the threshold beside him.
Al brightens. “Winry!”
“Fullmetal!” Mustang pulls himself away from his conversation with the cab driver long enough to shout his greeting. “Good to see you’ve finally poked your head out of your hole!”
Ed crosses his arms, glaring darkly. “Yeah, yeah. Good to see you too, you bastard.”
Winry smacks his arm. “Ed!”
“Ow, hey! What was that for?”
“You know what!”
Riza sighs, though her eyes are fond. The corner of her mouth quirks up. “Oh, those two…”
Al grins. “I think it’s kind of cute actually.”
Noah wraps her shawl around her shoulders.
There’s no need for it- the weather is warm- but it leaves her feeling protected anyways.
She catches sight of herself in the mirror and is instantly struck by how pale she is. She brushes a finger against her cheek, then flips her hair over her shoulders, running her fingers through it in an attempt to make it look more passable.
Her eyes are hollow. Lifeless.
Noah tries to smile, but it falls flat. Fingers shaking, she touches the corner of her lips, then drops her hands down to her side, curling her fingers into fists.
After a moment, she lifts her head, finding her eyes in the mirror again, and presses two fingers against her breastbone.
Again, she wonders if Mei is correct. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be feeling.
She takes a final look around her- a portion of her memories here are painful, yes, but this place… it had been the closest thing to a home she had had in a long while.
Mei is waiting for her when she finally exits the bathroom.
“Well…” Her smile is strained when she holds out Noah’s satchel. “Are you ready?”
She’s not, but she follows Mei anyways.
There’s no hug this time between Ed and Roy.
Just a clasping of hands.
“Thank you,” Ed says, with feeling. “For everything. You know.”
Roy returns it.
“Yeah, Ed. I know.”
Ed retrieves his hand, massaging the back of his neck.
“You’re still a bastard, you know,” he says, “but don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Winry is next in line and she wraps her arms around his neck.
It takes Roy by surprise, but he returns her hug.
She takes a deep breath. “Thank you both so much.”
Outside, everyone is already gathered and, at first, Noah shies away from facing any of them.
Mei eases past her, catching her by the elbow and bringing her along.
She keeps her head down, unable to face any of them.
“Noah!” It’s Winry and Noah jerks her head up on instinct.
Winry stands, one arm clutching at her elbow.
“Hey.” She tries to smile, but it comes out a little crooked, and she gives up almost immediately. “I wanted to tell you… good luck.”
Good luck?
Noah swallows thickly and finds she can’t speak.
The trip is long.
Made through unfamiliar territory and in the company of strangers, Noah can’t say she finds it particularly comfortable.
She hunkers down at one end of the wagon and looks anywhere but at her two companions.
Neither one of them has made much of an attempt to converse with her and Noah is just fine with that.
She keeps her arms wrapped about herself, staring out in the distance.
It truly is beautiful here, with all its greens and blues. Its fields of yellow flowers and the clouds of sheep.
Leaving it feels like she’s losing a piece of herself, which confuses her because she hadn’t realized that she’d started thinking of this place as home.
Even the wagon ride is relatively comfortable, all things considered, but Noah can’t appreciate that.
Her life is being uprooted once more and, this time, she has only herself to blame. She can’t get Alphonse’s words to leave her mind.
Her fingers curl in the fabric of her skirt even though she would like nothing more than to press them against her ears in an effort to block out the younger Elric brother.
“Are you alright?” It’s the man’s voice that startles her out of her thoughts and she looks up.
“I’m fine,” she says, tone clipped in an effort to keep her voice from breaking.
“If you say so…” The man- Mustang- uncrosses his legs with a sigh.
No further attempt to break the silence is made.
Maybe it’s better that way.
Good luck.
Winry’s final words to her play over in her mind.
Had she really meant that? After everything?
Noah can’t process it.
What is she supposed to make of it?
“I was told you didn’t have many personal effects.” It’s the woman who breaks the silence next. Riza Hawkeye, if Noah is remembering correctly.
“That’s true,” Noah says softly, keeping her eyes down. She has more than she had when she first arrived here. Some garments were purchased with the money she had made assisting the Cutlers. Others, she had been surprised to find when she had gone through her satchel, had belonged to Winry.
At Noah’s questioning look, Winry had bitten her lip.
“Keep them,” she’d said quietly and, though she had been unable to make eye contact, the words had not been spoken with disdain. “I don’t need them anymore.”
She had no idea what to do with this kindness.
“I can help you with getting the necessities,” Riza offers. “And anything else you might need after that.”
“Alright.” Noah keeps her head ducked down. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The silence stretches on before them like the road.
That’s all they’ve said anything about.
Personal effects. Living quarters.
She’s learned a little about Ishval. About the Ishvalan people and a little about their history.
That sort of thing.
No one talks about what she’s done.
Noah finally dares to look at them.
Neither one looks back at her.
Mustang has his arms crossed, head turned, looking out the side at the passing scenery. Riza is perusing a variety of papers in her hands.
Government reports or some other such thing.
Noah bunches the fabric of her skirt between her fingers and bites her lip. The urge to touch one of them overtakes her for a moment, but she wrestles it down.
She can’t fathom why they’ve kept silent. Why they hide their contempt, where others would hardly bother to do so.
“Noah.”
She’s grown so used to the silence that Mustang’s voice startles a small shriek from her.
Embarrassed, she colors and ducks her head again. Further embarrassed by her reaction, she raises her head.
Neither one of them appears fazed by her reaction.
She doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse.
“I want you to take my hand.”
For a moment, Noah stares at him, completely baffled by his request.
Hawkeye seems just as surprised.
“Sir?”
“It’s alright, Hawkeye.” He waves off her concern without taking his eyes off of Noah.
Did she hear him wrong? Why would he ask her to take his hand?
Briefly, she entertains the possibility that he is like her. But that’s ridiculous. Is there something he wants her to read instead?
That seems to be true, but Noah can’t imagine what it might be.
Mustang holds his hand out to her.
A moment and a stunned heartbeat later and Noah takes it. His hand is warm, calloused.
Noah closes her eyes in concentration. She has no idea what she’s searching for, so she just probes for what sticks out the most. What feelings are the strongest in his mind.
And then she finds them.
Fire. Corpses.
Wounded and dead lying in the streets.
Noah yanks her hand back with a gasp. She clutches it to her chest, staring at him in horror.
What… what had he done?
“I’m sorry for that. I could have told you, but I thought it might be better if I simply showed you.”
“What…” Noah can barely breathe enough to force the words out past her tongue. A tremor runs up her spine and traverses down her arms. Gooseflesh prickles her skin. “What was the point?”
What are you trying to tell me?
Mustang sighs. The regret, the- something else- something stronger- is painted on his face clear as day.
Whatever he’s done in his past, he’s not proud of it.
“The point?” He crosses his arms, expression distant. “I’ve done terrible things in my past. We both have.” His eyes find Hawkeye. “We’ve accepted the consequences that will come for our actions and we’ve found a way to make peace. There’s no turning back from what you’ve done, but… you don’t have to let this stop you from moving forward.”
Moving forward.
Noah lets herself cry.