Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Lieutenant Colonel, I’ve heard you’ve done the most wonderful thing and taken in two young boys!” Major Armstrong burst through the door, tearing it clean off its hinges as he rushed into the room. Men scattered and dove under their desks to avoid him as he flexed his shirt right off. Sparking and sobbing, he rushed straight towards Mustang with a single-minded drive and determination that told him no matter how fast he ran, no matter where he hid, he was Alex Louis Armstrong’s target.

Despite this knowledge, Mustang did try to get away from him. He let out a very undignified shriek and attempted to dive behind his desk, knocking over papers and pens in the process. He almost made it to the window. But, goddammit, Armstrong was as fast as he was bulky. In the span of a second, he made his way across the room, around the desk and to Mustang, picking him up and crushing him to his chest. The entire time he continued to sob and sputter and flex and sparkle.

All Mustang could do was sit there and take it until Armstrong had calmed down.

Yes, now that the boys had proper names and a backstory that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, word was quick to spread around Central Command about what exactly he had done. Thankfully, with the help of Riza, Hughes, and the rest of his men, they managed to mitigate many of the questions and control the narrative somewhat. The backstory had been further fleshed out to the point where sometimes even he wondered if the trip to Resembool had all been a fever dream.

The reaction around Central Command had been… mixed to say the least. A few people didn’t seem to care or make any comments. He had gotten a few congratulatory handshakes from some people (including the Fuhrer himself, ew). A couple people started giving him parenting advice that often either conflicted with other’s advice or seemed downright illegal. And others still snarked about how this would finally ruin his career. After all, he couldn’t be a good single father and make his next promotion. There were too many important meetings he’d have to miss! And kids were so needy.

That last comment nearly had the head of the Colonel who said it put through a wall. Hawkeye was there to pull him away and calm him down. The next day, the Colonel in question had a surprise bout of diarrhea that had Havoc and Breda snickering in the background. When questioned about whether they had anything to do with it, they denied everything.

So, yes, there had been a mix of lukewarm, positive, and negative responses to the news that he now had two young children in his care. All to be expected and prepared for.

And then there was Armstrong.

Major Alex Louis Armstrong.

If this kept up, those boys were going to have more doting uncles than they knew what to do with.

Hughes did warn him the man would pay him a visit. And Mustang did know how dramatic everyone in the Armstrong family tended to be. Yes, even Major General Armstrong, just in a different way from her brother. He was prepared for tears and flexing and the tearing off of his shirt. He was not prepared for his spine to be rearranged.

“Thank you, Major,” he grunted, trying to wiggle his way out of Armstrong’s iron grip. He gripped harder. His back popped and… hey, that actually felt a lot better! Maybe he could convince Armstrong to give him a massage later to work out the rest of the knots.

Finally, Armstrong put him down. He stumbled slightly at the sudden need to use his own legs.

“No need to thank me, lieutenant colonel,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You should be the one who receives all the praise! Taking those poor boys in without a second thought! I always knew you were a good man. But this just proves it to me!”

Mustang may have choked at that last part. “Really, it was no problem. I love those kids. I wasn’t going to toss them out on the street.”

It was funny how true that statement was. This wasn’t him playing up the part of ‘Roy Mustang, dutifully taking care of his sister’s kids after her untimely passing’. This was him. Actually him. Loving Alphonse and Edward Elric (now Mustang) so much that the mere thought of them spending a night on the streets killed him. He would never allow any harm to come to them. They were his now. And nothing would change that.

“It’s still so beautiful! The love a parent has for a child!” He clapped a massive hand on Mustang’s shoulder, causing his knees to buckle. “Please, you must let me meet them! I’d be honored and would love to help you and the children settle into this new, beautiful, wonderful next phase of your life!”

“I don’t know…”

True, the boys had done well when it came to the team. Ed didn’t freak out and Al seemed to be his normal, happy self. But Havoc had always been great with kids. Riza had been there since the beginning. Hughes and Gracia were practically perfect parents already. And the rest of his team were lowkey and calm enough that they wouldn’t overwhelm them.

Armstrong on the other hand was… a lot. He hadn’t witnessed him interacting with many children so he didn’t know how he would handle Ed and Al. And the fact that he was so big meant that he would tower over the boys, possibly scaring them. What if he rushed towards them in a fit of glee and hugged them without their consent? What if his loud, booming voice, triggered Ed’s auditory sensitivities and he had another meltdown? What if Ed and Al had some unknown trauma surrounding large, bulky, bald men with mustaches that would cause some sort of PTSD induced panic attack? There were too many variables and Mustang wasn’t going to risk the health and safety of his children so that Armstrong would feel like he was ‘in the know’.

“I think that would be a great idea,” Riza said. Out of everyone in the office, she hadn’t made a mad dash to duck and hide.

“Really!” Armstrong cried.

“Really?” Did she not understand his trepidation?

“Of course.” She nodded and stepped by Mustang’s side. “The major is a fellow alchemist so I’m sure Edward and Alphonse would appreciate talking with him.”

“Fellow alchemists!” He gasped. Then, he slapped Mustang on the back hard enough to knock him to his hands and knees. “I say, it certainly seems to run in the family.”

He scrambled up and attempted to smooth out his uniform. “She was my foster sister. We’re not related by blood,” he rushed to explain. The last thing he needed was for Armstrong to show up at his apartment and realize that his ‘nephews’ looked nothing like him, thus sparking a whole new round of gossip to run through Central.

“Still, I’m sure having you as an uncle played a part in their love for the art!” And he was scooping him up in yet another bone-crushing hug. “I shall bring over books from the family library! How good are they at alchemy? Do they need a tutor? I’ll reach out to my connections and see if anyone would be interested!”

“Let’s not do the alchemy thing yet. They just lost their mother,” Mustang said.

“Agreed. Besides, it’s nice for Edward and Alphonse to have alchemy be a hobby to explore and play with rather than something intense that might lead to failure,” Riza added.

“Of course! You have an excellent point. Would today work for you?”

Mustang said ‘no’ just as Riza said ‘yes’. Sadly, Armstrong seemed to be listening to her and not to him.

“Wonderful! I’ll walk home with you after work!”

He wasn’t getting out of this. Was he? “Alright,” he sighed, finally succumbing to his fate. “But you can’t hug or touch them without their permission. And keep your shirt on. And keep your voice down. Got it?”

“Of course! I’m so excited to meet them.” One more bone crushing hug for the road and he was gone, leaving Mustang and the rest of the team in shocked silence.

“You think this is a good idea?” Havoc asked. “The man’s a freak.”

“Yeah, but he’s a well-meaning freak,” Fuery pointed out.

“He’ll be fine,” Riza said, slamming more paperwork down on Mustang’s desk. “He knows how to behave around children.”

“He certainly doesn’t know how to behave around me,” he grumbled, though he didn’t have a lot of bite in him. After all, Armstrong’s impromptu chiropractic session seemed to have reset his back. He felt a lot better than before.

“No, he does. Now,” she pulled out her gun and cocked it, “get back to work before you have to explain to building management why there’s yet another hole in your floor.”

He paled, sat down, and started filling out forms.

*****

“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Mustang asked, warily eyeing Armstrong as they walked to his small, one bedroom apartment.

He had hoped the man forgot all about meeting his boys and instead left work to do whatever rich people do in their spare time. But, when he and Riza walked out the front door, there was Armstrong, towering above all the other soldiers, waiting like an excited statue at the front gates. It was then that Mustang knew, no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to get out of this. Ed and Al were about to meet yet another person who would no doubt spoil them rotten. And, unlike the rest of the team, Armstrong was filthy rich. The things he could afford for the boys…

Was it too soon to ask him to set up some sort of trust or education fund for their future?

He’d ask Riza later. For now, he needed to focus on making sure Armstrong wouldn’t scare the boys with his loud, boisterous, over the top behavior.

Thankfully, Riza assured him that when she went to eat lunch with the boys, she explained to them that a friend from work was going to be coming over to meet them. They were both understandably hesitant. Mustang wished it would have stayed that way. If the kids didn’t want to meet him, then Armstrong would have no choice but to come over another day! Then Riza mentioned he was a fellow alchemist, and the boys went from hesitant to uncontrollable joy.

She was sabotaging him. That had to be it. The boys didn’t want to meet Armstrong when he was just a simple military man. They had already met so many new people in such a short amount of time. But, because she said the magic word, he was now leading him back to his pathetic one-bedroom apartment. Of course, the boys would jump at the chance to meet another alchemist! Ed especially was obsessed with the science. He’d probably get along with Kimblee so long as the topic of conversation stayed on alchemy and alchemy alone.

“Of course I want to do this today!” Armstrong boomed. “No time like the present, my man! And I’m excited to meet these two little ones that seemed to have captured your heart as well as the heart of your team!” He slapped him on the back, hard enough that Mustang stumbled forward several steps.

This was a disaster in the making. There was no way Armstrong wouldn’t overwhelm his children. “Okay, but keep your voice down. Edward doesn’t like loud noises. And no sudden movement. And don’t hug them or pat them on the back. And be very careful around Ed’s right side. He’s still healing from the amputation. And Alphonse—”

Armstrong chuckled.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this worried, is all. It’s nice.”

Worried? He wasn’t worried! He was just… just…

Fine, he was worried. But could anyone blame him?

“And you have nothing to fear,” he continued. “These aren’t the first children who have been plagued with unfortunate circumstances that I’ve been around. I know how to handle them and any idiosyncrasies that come with trauma.”

He winced, feeling guilty that he didn’t trust Armstrong with his kids. The man had a point. His job often brought him into contact with traumatized, terrified children and he always knew how to calm them down and make them smile. Even in Ishval…

“Um, right. I’m sure they’ll like you and not freak out or anything.”

Oh, they would definitely like him. Al seemed to like everyone and Edward liked anyone who knew anything about alchemy (or gave him food). Come to think of it, Mustang would have to keep an eye on those two and make sure they didn’t make any ‘adult friends’ with nefarious intentions. For as hesitant as Ed had been to trust him at first, he was now realizing how quick the boy was to trust people if they hit on one of his topics of interest.

They reached his apartment. Despite his assurances and Mustang’s attempts to talk himself out of worrying, he still turned to face Armstrong. “Are you sure you want to do this today? You must be tired after all that work you did and isn’t there some sort of charity gala you need to help with—”

“Nonsense! Katherine is doing most of the work on the gala. And the Armstrong Family is always up for meeting new people.”

Tell your sister that.

“Fine.” He pulled out his keys and entered the front door. Once outside of his apartment, he turned to Armstrong once more. “It’s just… Ed and Al also might be resting from everything that’s happened. Maybe we should meet them on another day.”

Armstrong gave him a grave expression and put a large hand on his shoulder. The weight of it seemed to cause Mustang to sink several inches into the floor.

“Sir, it is wonderful that you are so protective of the boys. If it truly makes you anxious for me to meet them today, then I will take my leave.”

Damn. Mustang had no doubt that Armstrong would take his leave if he asked. But there was something about the solemn way he said this, and the intensity of his stare. Mustang would trust Armstrong with his kids in a heartbeat. If that was the case, then he should let him meet them sooner rather than later. Besides, the sooner Armstrong met with and fell in love with his kids, the sooner Mustang could work on getting him to create a trust fund that would set the kids up for life. Not to mention an education fund so they could go to any school they wanted.

He sighed. “No. No, you’re right. You should meet them. I trust that you won’t hurt them or anything. But, it’s still so new. Everything is so new and it feels like every day I’m learning something.”

“Of course, you’re new to this. It’ll take some time. But you are doing great.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I’ve spoken to Lieutenant Hawkeye. She seems to think your parenting is satisfactory.”

Satisfactory? Wow. If Riza thought that, then he either must be a parenting god. Or her own upbringing warped her knowledge of what good parenting looked like. Berthold Hawkeye wasn’t the greatest father. He seemed to think Riza was more like a cat than a human and would leave her for days on end to fend for herself with nothing but some dried food and water to keep her alive. It was a miracle she was as well adapted as she was. Either way, good to know that she thought he was doing a good job.

“Great. Then, let’s meet them.” He swung open the door. “Boys, I’m home,” he called while he toed off his boots.

“You brought the alchemist?” Ed called.

He could hear the sound of pounding feet on his floor and braced himself just in time for Al to practically jump into his arms, wrapping his skinny little arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

“Yes, Ed. I brought Major Armstrong. Please remember to be respectful and use his name.”

No, seriously, kid. How respectful you are might determine how much money I can get you.

Just like a curious but cautious cat, Ed came into view not long after Al. He sized up Armstrong, eyes slightly narrowed as he studied him.

“You’re really tall,” he said.

“Yes, it is the Armstrong family genes!” Armstrong proclaimed, flexing ever so slightly. (Please don’t rip off your shirt. Please don’t rip off your shirt. Please don’t rip off your shirt.)

“Can I sit on your shoulders?”

Mustang choked. “Edward!”

“What? He’s super tall! I want to be super tall.”

“Weren’t you going to ask about alchemy?”

Too late, Ed was already climbing Armstrong like a tree, situating himself on his shoulders. How did that kid do it with one arm?

“This is cooler than alchemy. Al, I’m so tall! I can touch the ceiling.” He brushed his fingertips against it and brought his hand down, wrinkling his nose. “Your ceilings are so dusty.”

“Our ceilings!” Mustang sputtered as Armstrong laughed and walked further into the apartment. Al trotted after him, asking questions about his muscles and physique and the sparkles that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Cooler than alchemy? Cooler than Alchemy! How could anything be cooler than alchemy?

He sighed and slipped off his jacket. This was good. The boys were broadening their interests and meeting new people. And, having a super-rich uncle with nothing better to do than shove hundreds of cenz in your hands like it was pennies was also very nice for a kid to have. Apparently, Ed and Al deserved the money for being such ‘good children for their uncle’. He’d have to watch that money and make sure it went to something besides sweets. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sell Ed and Al on the benefits of a savings account quite yet.

*****

Al held up the crisp, hundred cenz bill Major Armstrong had given them before leaving. He had never seen money that was worth this much before. Even after the money in Resembool had been rendered useless except for starting fires, the largest bill he had ever seen was a fifty. But this… this was one hundred. Double the worth of a fifty! And, unlike Resembool, it wasn’t useless here. He and Ed could actually go and buy stuff with it. Whatever they wanted! Candy. Books. Toys. A cat! Well, probably not a cat. Roy was very adamant they would not be getting a cat with the money. Oh well, that was another problem for another day.

“What are we going to buy with it?” He asked quietly while Ed read next to him in their bed. It was a weeknight so Roy was a bit more lenient about bedtime. And by a bit, he meant they were allowed to go to bed at 7:30 instead of 7:00.

Not that Al minded the early bedtime. It was kind of nice to be able to sleep and not listen to the sounds of bombs and gunfire in the distance. And, after several weeks of living in Central, everything had gotten better. He was no longer crying himself to sleep or waking up in the middle of the night with Ed thrashing around from phantom pains or a nightmare. These things still happened, but it happened less often. And with Roy just in the other room, he felt safe. If he had a nightmare or wanted to cuddle with someone, he had that. Ed had that too, though he was less willing to admit he needed it. One thing at a time, Al supposed. And right now, that thing they were focusing on was what to buy with all this money. They were rich!

“I don’t know. Roy’s being all mean telling us we can’t buy ice cream and stuff.”

Al hummed in agreement. “To be fair, Uncle Havoc did leave us with all that ice cream. We still have so much of it left.”

“Yeah, but all we have is ice cream. We don’t have cake or anything. We should buy some cake.”

“Roy said no sweets.”

“Well, it’s not like we need to buy any more toys or books. We keep getting boxes of the stuff every day.”

That was true. Between all their new family members, everyone seemed to be willing to give something. The apartment, which was already pretty crammed with the three of them, was now feeling even more crowded with all the stuff they got. Al’s favorite thing so far had been a handmade quilt from one of Roy’s sisters. It was on the bed now and was nice, and warm, and heavy. Almost like a hug.

Ed liked all the alchemy books people seemed to dig up from everywhere. Uncle Falman even managed to get some ones from a used book store that were first editions with notes in the margins! Come to think of it, though, all the stuff they were getting was for them. Roy had little interest in the toys and he was far too advanced in his alchemy to want to read old books on the subject. The clothes and blankets and whatnot were all for them. Other than a waffle-maker (which Al suspected was more for them than for Roy) and a few flavors of ice cream that had alcohol in them, he hadn’t gotten anything. That didn’t feel fair. After all, his life was getting turned upside down too. He was going to need to spend more money on a bigger house, more food, more clothes, more everything. And after Ed broke the expensive bottle of wine, Al realized just how much ‘more’ of everything he was forced to give up for them. And not just the money. He had to spend more time with them.

While Al was certain Roy didn’t mind spending time with them, he often wondered if Roy ever missed the days before they were a part of his life. He had overheard Roy telling Havoc he couldn’t attend their usual poker game because Aunt Gracia couldn’t babysit. He overheard Roy complaining to Hughes that he hadn’t gotten to spend much time with Riza lately. He saw the calendar on the wall and flipped through the previous months, surprised to learn that Roy used to plan something to do with someone almost every weekend, sometimes several times a week. Now that calendar was filled with activities like ‘go to the park’ or ‘trip to the museum’, all activities meant first for Ed and Al, and not for Roy. They had to do something for Roy! It wasn’t fair that he had to change his life and give up all these things while Ed and Al got all new things in return.

“We could buy him clothes?” he suggested.

Ed wrinkled his nose. “Have you seen his closet? He’s got enough fancy suits to wear one every day of the year and still have some left over. Don’t know why he needs that many. He only ever wears his stupid uniform.”

That was true. Roy did have a lot of clothes. Even if he didn’t, Al didn’t know how to buy him more. He had never been shopping for adult clothes before. And some of Roy’s non-military uniform clothes seemed really fancy. He supposed they could ask Aunt Chris or Aunt Nessa about where to get new clothes, but Ed had a point. He had a ton of clothes and Al wasn’t sure he needed any more.

“We could buy him a book?”

“What book though? And wouldn’t he just buy any book he wanted? He’s got his own money.”

That was also true. Roy had more money than them, even with the hundred cenz. If he wanted something, he could easily go and get it himself.

“What if we make him dinner one night?”

Ed didn’t immediately jump in with a reason why that wouldn’t work. Which meant it could work.

“We could. I know I’m a better cook than him.”

“He’s getting better, brother,” Al sighed.

“Still burns boiling water. How do you manage to do that? It’s water!” He closed the book and scootched up to the top of the bed with Al. “What’re we going to make? It’s gotta have courses, since this is a gift.”

“Well, Uncle Breda got us that bread maker that seems pretty easy to use. And mom’s homemade bread was always the best. Much better than the store bought stuff. So, we can have bread.”

Ed nodded. “Write that down. We can also get some stupid green salad, since Roy’s a health freak. We can even make it fancy with pecans or something. I think Uncle Breda left some salad recipes. Didn’t even know salad needed a recipe. Thought it was just lettuce.”

Right. Roy did love his vegetables. Al wrote that down as well. They’d choose a salad recipe later. For now, they just needed to figure out the courses. “We can have ice cream for dessert.”

“No, we should have brownies for dessert.”

“But we have the ice cream.”

“Yeah, but what if we put the ice cream on top of the brownies? Then it’d be super fancy.”

That did sound good. And they would still use up all the ice cream in their freezer. “What about for the main course?”

“I want meat,” Ed said.

“Brother, this isn’t about you. This is about Roy.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “I know that. But the only reason the idiot doesn’t make meat is because he knows he’ll burn it.”

That didn’t sound right.

“Think about it, Al. He’s got cold cuts in the fridge so we know he eats it. What other reason could there be for him not eating meat other than he can’t cook it? And meat’s trickier than vegetables. If you undercook a vegetable, it’s a little crunchy. If you overcook a vegetable, it’s a little mushy. If you overcook meat, it’s like eating leather. If you undercook meat, you get a bunch of parasites. We can cook meat for him!”

That kind of made sense, though he couldn’t help but feel there was something else they were missing. Still, he couldn’t think of any way to argue with Ed about it. “What kind of meat would we cook?”

“Sausages?” Ed shrugged. “They’re pretty easy to make and they’re tasty.”

He nodded and wrote that down as well. “Got it. Tomorrow, when Uncle Fuery takes us to the park, we can ask him to stop by the grocery store on our way back and pick up our stuff. Then, since Roy’s going to be in a meeting tomorrow afternoon, we can surprise him with dinner.”

“Sounds perfect!” Ed grinned.

Al quickly tucked the shopping list and money away in the night stand and turned out the light. He was excited. It was nice to know that for once, they’d be the ones spending money on Roy.

*****

“You guys want to go to the grocery store?” Fuery asked as they started making their way back from the park.

“Yup,” Ed nodded. “We want to surprise Roy with dinner tonight since he’s going to be at that meeting all day.”

Al nodded excitedly, the piece of paper with their list clutched tightly in his hand. This morning, after Roy had gone to work but before Fuery had stopped by to take them to the park, Ed and Al had spent hours combing through recipes donated by Uncle Breda and Aunt Gracia to determine the perfect dinner for tonight. Roy was going to love it.

Fuery’s brow furrowed. “But, how will you pay for it? I mean, I guess I could pay for it.”

“Major Armstrong gave us some money yesterday when he came to visit,” Al said. It wouldn’t count if Fuery paid for it. He didn’t pull it out to show him, though. Roy had warned him that some people would try to steal the money from them if they knew about it.

“And you don’t want to spend it on something else?”

“Nah, we got plenty of toys and stuff,” Ed said. “Besides, we want to thank Roy for doing all this stuff for us,” he mumbled, clearly not happy about admitting that he actually wanted Roy to like him.

“You don’t have to do that. He likes taking care of you guys.”

“Oh, I know,” Al rushed to say.

He needed Fuery to take them to the grocery store. While they had gotten a better idea of Central City since moving here, the city still felt so large and sprawling. He didn’t want to get lost. Especially with brother still having trouble with his auditory sensitivities. It seemed like every day they were discovering a new street or alleyway. More than once, he was in awe of Roy or another person strolling through the street, eyes forward and back straight as they headed right to their destination without getting lost or needing to ask for directions. Even after nearly a month in Central, Al still didn’t know how to get to the park they went to every weekend. He wondered if he would ever be like Roy or Riza, able to navigate the city with ease and run about without their supervision like the other kids he saw out and about.

“But,” he continued, “we really want to do something for him. Please, Fuery? Please can we go to the grocery store?”

Fuery looked briefly conflicted but then nodded. “I guess that would be okay. It’s not like you’re asking for candy. Right? This is a proper meal with vegetables and whatnot?”

“Of course it is, we’re not stupid. We got a whole menu,” Ed said, skipping ahead slightly. “We’re gonna make bread and salad and brownies that we’ll put ice cream on top of. I went through the ice cream we had left. I can’t wait to put S’more ice cream on top of my brownie.”

“I’m going to put cookie dough on mine!” Al added excitedly.

“Roy’ll probably put something boring on it like coffee or something,” Ed grumbled. “Why do adults like coffee so much? It tastes like dirt.”

“I don’t like coffee,” Fuery said.

“Yeah, but you aren’t an adult.” Ed rushed towards the grocery store, leaving Fuery behind sputtering with an outstretched hand.

He turned to Al, face pale, “You guys know I’m an adult. Right?”

Al quirked his head to the side. It never occurred to him to think of Fuery as an adult. He was the youngest out of everyone they had been introduced to. That made him feel like less of an adult. But at the same time, he was in his twenties, which was definitely ancient. At least by Al’s standards.

“Brother just means you don’t feel like you’re as much of an adult as the other adults.”

Fuery sighed and deflated. He put a hand on Al’s shoulder and directed him into the grocery store. “I’ll let Havoc eat a bunch of candy and then have him take you guys to the county fair one of these days. Then you’ll see, I’m an adultier adult than he is.”

Al patted Fuery sympathetically. He still didn’t understand what the issue was, but he also didn’t really care. He had better things to do like make sure brother got bread flour and spinach, instead of just focusing on the brownie ingredients.

The shopping trip went fairly quick. About half way through, a pretty woman noticed Fuery and started talking to him. Al didn’t understand why but he kept blushing, stuttering, and rubbing the back of his head. The woman seemed to like that and kept touching his arm. At one point she mentioned Ed and Al which made Fuery turn even redder and start stuttering even more. Why were adults so weird?

Whatever, this left Al and Ed to explore the shop freely and make all sorts of debates about super important stuff. Like the type of salad dressings, they were going to get. Al didn’t even know they made so many flavors! It was like ice cream all over again. Who even came up with all these flavors and did any of them taste good?

Al thought a poppy seed dressing sounded really fancy. Ed argued that they should do the ginger miso orange dressing instead. The recipe didn’t state the kind of dressing to go on the salad, which didn’t help. In the end, they did the math and figured they could afford both. He let Ed pick the sausage out, since his brother was clearly more invested in that than the salad. He picked out some sort of spiced sausage that Al had never heard of and couldn’t pronounce. Maybe Roy could? He seemed to know how to pronounce all sorts of stuff.

Fuery was so distracted by the woman that it was up to Ed and Al to check out on their own. He felt very grown up when he requested paper, not plastic, and handed over his one hundred cenz bill to the woman behind the register. She cooed and chuckled at them, telling him they were very grown up.

Ed pouted and glared at the ground. Al beamed at the praise. As they finished up their purchase, he realized Fuery had yet to shake the woman. He was afraid Fuery would be stuck with her forever. Thankfully, he managed to shake her off when they left. Though not before the woman gave him a piece of paper that had Fuery blushing even harder. Was he okay? Did he need a doctor? He didn’t seem sick. Maybe he just got sunburned today at the park. Once they were inside, he’d probably feel a lot better.

“Now, all we have to do is cook!” Al said excitedly.

“Yeah. I can’t wait. Roy’s going to love this,” Ed said.

“I’m sure he will,” Fuery said. Already he was looking better and less red.

When they got back home, Al was surprised to hear the phone ringing.

Fuery rushed to answer it while Ed and Al put away the groceries. The conversation was hushed but tense.

Finally, Fuery hung up the phone and came out to the kitchen. “Listen, boys, I need to run to the office. Things are more complicated than we originally thought. Are you going to be okay by yourselves for the rest of the day?”

Al nodded. “Yup. We’ll be fine.”

“Good. But, don’t start cooking anything until one of us can come back and help.”

“Why?” Ed scoffed. “We were cooking by ourselves long before Roy ever found us.”

“Because, you could get hurt.” Fuery said. “Please, just don’t start cooking. I promise, one of us can stop by later and help you out.”

“But the bread takes longer,” Al said. He had already read through the instructions.

“I know, I know. But please, just to be safe. Don’t touch the stove, okay?”

Al sighed. “Fine. We won’t touch it.”

“Great. Thanks! I’ll try and see if someone else can get off as soon as possible. Okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Ed muttered.

Al elbowed him. It wasn’t Fuery’s fault he had to go into work, or that stoves were dangerous.

Fuery didn’t seem to take Ed’s sour mood too hard, though, and waved to them as he rushed out the door. As soon as it was shut, Ed clambered on the counter to get the bread maker out.

“What are you doing?” Al asked.

“Starting the bread. Duh.”

“But Fuery said—”

“Fuery isn’t Roy,” Ed pointed out. “Roy never told us we couldn’t use the kitchen. Right?”

Al bit his lip. “Um, I guess?”

“Exactly. So his rules aren’t Roy’s rules. The only thing Roy’s told us not to do is juggle knives or climb up the book shelves. I’m not doing either. So there! Besides, the bread maker does all the work for us and we can use an oven no problem.”

“But what about the sausages?” Al asked.

“We’ve been camping before. We know how to use a stove and fry them up. It’ll be fine, Al. Get started on the brownies. We’ll do the sausages last to they’re nice and fresh for when Roy comes home.”

He wasn’t so sure about this. It felt wrong to go against Fuery’s request. But, Ed did have a point. Roy never said they weren’t allowed to cook anything. And they would be super careful! And the bread did take a few hours which meant they needed to get it started now if they wanted it to be done by time Roy got home.

“Okay, but while we’re cooking, you’re not allowed to do anything else. No reading, no drawing, nothing. Got it?” He dragged a chair over to the counters so he could pull down a bowl.

“Yeah, I got it. I’m not stupid, and I’ve cooked before. We used to help mom all the time, remember?”

Al did remember. And it hurt to remember. The clinking of metal spoons against ceramic, the smell of flour filling the air, the heat from the stove and oven. He remembered. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like he was back in Resembool, cooking in their little kitchen with mom off to the side, scolding Ed for eating the batter. Roy often let them help cook, but it wasn’t quite as calm as when mom did it. It was instead peppered with a lot of curse words and hurried, ‘don’t say that’ whenever Roy messed up. Occasionally, he’d dump whatever they were making in the garbage, take a second to compose himself, and then turn and say in a false, cheery voice, ask ‘Who wants to order pizza?’ as yet another dinner slowly became inedible. He was better than he used to be, but still not as good as mom.

Maybe if Roy saw that Ed and Al could cook, he’d pass off those duties onto them? Then they could have meat more often! It was a win-win.

As their dinner slowly came together and the smells of cooking filled the apartment, Al felt calm and relaxed, proud of what he was doing and how he was contributing to the household.

*****

Okay. So, whoever decided to have a Saturday meeting that went all fucking day needed to immediately be tried for treason, locked in prison, and then put out in front of a firing squad.

“Did they used to call Saturday meetings? Or is it just me?” Mustang grumbled.

This day had been awful. The meeting had been called last minute on Friday evening and Roy had scrambled to find someone to watch the boys and get them out of the house. Luckily, Fuery wasn’t required to be there so he volunteered to watch them. Of course, that only lasted until about four in the afternoon, when it was determined that, yeah, no, Master Sergeant Fuery did, in fact, need to be present in the meeting. He came in breathless and assured Roy that the boys were safe at home and eagerly awaiting for his return.

That sort of statement should have given him a second wind. It should have made him unbelievably happy to hear how anxious his boys were for his return. It should have comforted him.

Instead he felt an overwhelming sense of dread as he trudged back to the apartment nearly two and a half hours later. His feet were dragging on the pavement, his posture slumped over to the point where he thought they might drag on the ground. The sun was just starting to dip low in the sky and his only thought was ‘Shit, when had it gotten so late?’.

Yes, the meeting from hell was finally over, but his day wasn’t. Not yet. He still had to make dinner for the boys. He still had to wrangle them into the bath. He still had to answer Al’s million questions and listen to Ed ramble on about alchemy and try to study the array on his gloves once more. He still had to be a parent. But he was tired. So tired. Day in and day out. This was his life now. Never having a break. Never having a vacation. Always working all the time. Constantly on the watch for Al sneaking off food and hiding it in his room ‘for later, just in case’. Always being hyper aware of the noise level and watching Ed to make sure he didn’t have another melt down. Always sleeping on that goddamn pull out couch that ruined his back and had him waking up at all hours of the night, trying and failing to get comfortable.

Finally, he got to the entrance of his apartment building. At least it was still standing, which meant the boys hadn’t burned it down due to sheer boredom. One part of his journey was now over.

The next part had just begun.

He trudged up the stairs, one foot in front of the other. He felt like he was moving through molasses. The soles of his boots sticking to the stairs as he fought his way up to his pathetic one bedroom on the fourth floor. Couldn’t he leave them for one night? They survived without a parent for two weeks. He was so tired. He didn’t have it in him to argue with Ed about drinking his milk or answer the same questions Al asked every night. Don’t be mistaken, he loved those kids and would gladly do both of those things. Just not tonight.

He could go over to Riza’s, call them and let them know he wasn’t going to be at home tonight. Then he would sleep in an actual bed and relax and have conversations with an actual adult that didn’t revolve around war and war and more war.

“No. I brought them here. I need to take care of them,” he sighed. Besides, he was lucky with how relatively easy the boys were to take care of and how empathetic they could be. They’d pick up on his exhausted mood and tone things down. Hell, they might even offer to cook dinner or sleep on the couch tonight instead of the bed. It was one of the many reasons they were such good children and he loved them so much.

He allowed himself a few more seconds to steady his emotions and prepare himself for his kids. Just because he was tired didn’t mean he needed to take it out on them. He briefly considered taking his gloves off out here to avoid Ed’s constant need to study them, but didn’t want to stuff them in his pockets. He’d probably forget about them in his exhaustion. Ed would find them and decide to experiment with them. And then Roy would wake up to an apartment filled with the smell of smoke and fire. There was no telling how he would react to that. Would he be able to get Ed and Al out safely? Would he freeze? Or would he make things even worse and attack them? He would not risk it.

The gloves could stay on for a few more minutes while he locked them up safe and secure. Besides, Ed hadn’t been as curious about his gloves lately, the sparkle of novelty finally wearing off. He might not even ask questions about them today. When he felt ready, he slid the key into the lock and stepped inside.

“Boys, I’m—”

Something was wrong.

The smell.

The smell. It smelt like…

He gagged, eyes watering as he stumbled through the door and into his apartment. Wait, no, it wasn’t his apartment. It was Ishval. He was there. During the war. He knew. He could smell it.

No. Wait. He wasn’t there. This was just a flashback. He could handle this. He had to breathe. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

no.

No.

NO.

He was there. It was the smell. The smell of flesh cooking. Baking under his flames. He was the one burning everything. Who was it? Who was he killing? Why was he killing them?

He continued to stumble forward. He was in a dream. He had to be in a dream. One step he was in his apartment back in Central City, where no humans were burned alive and he wasn’t on the battlefield. And then the next step he was back there in the blazing hot sun with his hands outstretched and ready to snap.

“Roy?” A small, almost nervous voice called to his right.

He was panting now, his mind struggling to decide what to do. Should he snap and take care of the insurgent now? Or wait for orders?

“Are you okay?”

Wait. No. He wasn’t in Ishval. He wasn’t there. These weren’t insurgents. These were his… they were his…

But the smell.

The smell was there. Where else could he be?

Finally, he stopped where the heat was most intense. The kitchen. It was there where he saw what was causing all of this.

On the stove, in a frying pan, strips of human flesh sizzling like pork on a barbecue. Beside it was someone else. Small and blond and missing an arm.

He recognized him, but he couldn’t place him. He had to protect him. He had to get him away from the fire. From the burning. From the war.

He didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t in Ishval.

But he was.

There was a human cooking right in front of him.

He had caused it.

He was the cause of it.

It was him.

All him.

One hand grabbed the handle of the cast iron skillet, burning through the glove and searing his flesh so that the cut-up human was not the only thing cooking (why did they cut up the victim? Did he cut up the victim?)

His other hand planted itself on the chest of the person in the room and shoved him. Hard. The small body went flying, crashing in the cabinets and the sounds of glass shattered as he fell to the floor.

Then, with all his might, he flung the frying pan out the window. More glass shattering. He thought he could hear screaming.

Someone was calling to him.

Edward?

Alphonse?

Oh, god, he couldn’t be around them like this.

He would hurt them like this.

Unless…

Had he already hurt them?

Had it been one of them burning alive?

No. No. There were two people in the apartment. Ed and Al. They were still alive. But they weren’t safe, not with him here. Not with him like this.

He gagged some more and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He tripped over the rug, slamming his face into the porcelain tiles, blood spurting from his nose.

He heard the sounds of tiny feet running towards him. In a panic, he flung himself at the door and slammed it shut, locking it before one of his kids could get to him.

Then, he turned, gripped the edges of the toilet, and started to vomit.

*****

Al stood there dumbfounded as the door slammed and locked in his face. He had never seen Roy like that before. It was… it was almost like brother with his melt downs. He didn’t know Roy could get like that.

But why?

He quickly realized that Roy wasn’t the only one that was hurt and rushed back to Ed. The bathroom door was locked. He wasn’t getting in there right now. He didn’t want to get in there right now. Roy was scary. He shoved brother and threw the frying pan out the window for no reason. What if he hurt him some more? Ed could hurt people during his melt downs, but he was much smaller than Roy. His punches and kicks weren’t likely to do major damage. But Roy… Roy could kill them if they weren’t careful.

“Brother? Brother, are you okay?” Al asked, skidding to a halt in the kitchen. Ed was awake, but slumped over in a daze against the kitchen cabinets. The shattered salad bowl scattered around the kitchen. Al could already see a lump from where Ed’s head hit one of the cabinet handles and he had several small cuts from the glass. His left arm clutched the right nub. From here, Al couldn’t see if the wound had torn open. The brownie pan had also been knocked over in the commotion. Now crumbled bits of brown lay mixed in with wilted pieces of spinach.

“I… what happened?” Ed asked.

Al hesitated, not wanting to step on the floor with his bare feet and risk getting glass in them. But Ed needed his help. And Roy needed his help. He didn’t know how to help either of them. But he knew standing around crying wasn’t going to fix anything.

He bit his lip and rushed to him, wincing every time a shard of glass embedded itself into his feet.

“I don’t know. What do we do?”

“Maybe we should talk to him?”

“No, he’s not himself right now. What if he hurts you again?” Al hated saying that out loud. Roy had never been dangerous. Not to him.

Even when he showed up in Resembool, ready to kill them, he never seemed dangerous. This was Roy they were talking about. A man who liked face masks and wore mis-matched slippers and used funny voices when he read books to them. He was a man who took ten minutes to crack an egg because he hit it too hard on the countertop and now had to pick bits of shells out of the bowl. He was a man who called them affectionate names in Xingese and never turned down the opportunity for a hug or a cuddle.

What happened to him? Why did he throw the frying pan out the window and Ed across the room?

“Well, we can’t just sit here and wait for him to return to normal. What if he’s been poisoned or something?”

Ed had a point. What if Roy needed their help and they were sitting here doing nothing? Al didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know if Roy would only attack them or if he would attack everyone. He felt…

It was like the day after mom had died. Ed was still unconscious, lying in the vet's office with a missing arm, crying softly for both her and dad to come. Only, they weren’t coming. All Al could do was hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be alright even though he didn’t believe it. He didn’t know how to help Ed then and he didn’t know how to help Roy now.

“Maybe we should call Riza or Hughes?” he suggested. When in doubt, get an adult involved. They seemed to know everything. They’d know what to do. They’d know what was wrong with Roy.

“We can’t tell them!” Ed hissed.

“Why not?”

“Because, if they find out that he shoved me, they might get mad at him.”

“But…” Al looked towards the shut bathroom door. “But something’s wrong, and we don’t know how to fix it. Maybe if we tell them that, they’ll understand.”

Ed didn’t look convinced.

“Please, brother, I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”

Ed’s shoulders slumped forward and he sniffed. “I don’t know what to do either.”

That admission was all Al needed. He climbed up to the counter and dialed Riza’s number.

“Hello, this is Riza Hawkeye speaking,” she said.

“Um… Riza, it’s Al. Something happened with Roy and we don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice shaking.

Riza was dead silent on the other end of the line. For a moment, Al feared the phone call had been disconnected. He was about to call out to her when she spoke once more.

“Do you or Ed need a hospital?”

Where had that come from? How had she known that they were hurt? “Um, no.” He looked down at Ed for confirmation. When his brother shook his head, he continued, “I don’t think so.”

“Does he have his gloves on?”

“Um… yeah? I think so?”

“Where’s he at now?”

“In the bathroom. He locked himself in—”

“Alphonse, listen to me,” her voice was suddenly much sharper as she cut him off. In the background, he could hear her scrambling to put on her shoes and grab her keys. “Get Edward, go to your room and lock the door. Do not open it for any reason until Hughes and I get there. Understood?”

“But—”

“Is that understood?” Her tone left no room for arguments and it made Al feel even more afraid.

“It’s not his fault. I don’t know what happened but—”

“I know, I know. But right now, he isn’t himself. Go to the room, lock the door, Hughes and I will be over there in fifteen minutes.”

Al wanted to argue more. He wanted to assure her that everything was fine and this was all just a big misunderstanding. But Ed’s bump was turning purple and his feet hurt from the glass. He thought he could hear something happening in the bathroom and that scared him.

“Alright. Thank you, Riza,” he said quietly.

“Fifteen minutes. Okay? We’ve got keys so you don’t have to come out to let us in.”

“I understand.” He hung up the phone and hopped off the counter.

“Can you get to the room?” he asked quietly. “Riza told us to go in there and lock the door.”

“She knows what’s going on?”

“Seems like it.”

Ed got to his feet unsteadily. It felt like when he had first lost his arm and hadn’t quite recovered from the blood loss but still insisted that he could get around just fine. This time, however, he didn’t fight Al when he came to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist to help steady him.

Together, they hobbled their way into the bedroom, quietly shut and locked the door, and waited.

*****

Riza never thought she’d be in this position again. Roy hadn’t had a PTSD flashback in months and she foolishly thought the worst was behind them. Maybe the worst was behind them as it didn’t seem like Edward and Alphonse were close to death, but it was still scary. She had no idea how bad it was. Did he know where he was? Did he understand he wasn’t in Ishval anymore? Would he attack them as soon as they walked through the door?

There was a unique terror that came with not knowing. PTSD flashbacks were bad enough, never knowing if what you were doing was helping or making things worse. But going in completely blind while two children were caught in the middle made everything worse.

“Did they say what set it off?” Hughes asked as they ran to Roy’s apartment.

It was about a twenty-minute walk from her place to Roy’s and about a thirty-minute walk from Hughes’ place to Roy’s. She was trying to get them there in under ten just in case something else happened and the boys needed immediate medical attention. Burns were tricky business. Burns caused by Roy especially so.

“No. I doubt they’d even know. I don’t think Roy ever talked to them about his triggers,” she answered. “Besides, you know how these things go. They can change on a dime.”

“But the boys are alright? He didn’t hurt them?”

“I don’t think he burned them, but something happened to shake Al.” They practically tore the door off its hinges in a rush to get inside. A neighbor called out to them, a cheerful greeting. When she was ignored, she huffed something about ‘rude kids these days’ and continued on with her life.

Despite making record time in getting from her apartment to Roy’s, through the door, and up the stairs, it still felt like it took too long. Like hours had passed since she had first gotten the call. Or maybe the world was stretching. Expanding. Everything getting further and further away as the universe mocked her attempts to reach her family before something irreversible happened.

Finally, though, they reached his floor. Her heart dropped when she realized the door to his apartment was still open.

“Something inside the apartment set him off. Something that affected him as soon as he got inside.” She hurried to it, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

Hughes nodded and pulled out his throwing knives. She gave him a look.

“What? The man can barbecue us in a matter of seconds. It’s just a precaution. One in the shoulder will buy us enough time to handcuff him or dump some water on him.”

“Fine, but you’re paying for his hospital bill.”

“Deal.”

They stepped inside the apartment and immediately Riza knew what the issue was. “The boys were cooking meat.”

“I’ll say. This place smells like a barbeque joint.” Hughes took a deep breath. “Sausages of some sort. Damn, pork’s just about the worst thing they could have picked too.”

No wonder Roy had snapped. Out of all his triggers, the smell of cooked meat was the worst one. He was much better than before. It used to be that he couldn't be in the same room as any cooked meat as it reminded him too much of Ishval. Now, after a lot of therapy and hard work, he could stand the smell of fish and could eat cold cuts. If a dish had enough spice to it to mask the smell, he could be around it. Sometimes he could even eat it, but that was always a risk so he preferred to avoid consuming cooked meat if at all possible. And, for the most part, restaurants were fine so long as no one else at the table had any meat, particularly red meat or pork as both of those had a similar scent to burning human flesh. But at home, in a place as poorly ventilated as his apartment, the smell built up until it seeped into everything.

“Oh, god,” Hughes breathed, taking in the horrific sight. The window in the living room had been smashed. In the kitchen, there was glass, wilted spinach, and what appeared to be some sort of cake or brownie scattered across the floor. The worst of it were the bloody footprints, clearly from the children. They led to the bedroom and Riza breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that it didn’t appear any fires had been lit. Roy was nowhere to be seen, but a quick glance at the closed bathroom told her all she needed to know.

“At least the open window is helping air this place out,” Hughes muttered. “Which one do you want to take? Roy or the boys?”

She thought it over. Neither would have been the preferable option. She wasn’t sure how much Roy was aware of, but once he realized that he had hurt the kids, he’d be inconsolable. The boys on the other hand… This was not a conversation she wanted to have with them. To know that the man they trusted to protect them was capable of also hurting them was terrifying. It was something no child should ever have to realize. Furthermore, she knew how to deal with Roy. She knew how to set him back on the right path and stop his spiral, even if it was hard work. The boys, on the other hand, were a mystery to her. She had heard from Roy what Ed was like during his meltdowns and his worries that Al might be a bit too agreeable in an attempt to not rock the boat. How did she deal with that? How did she offer support and encouragement to children she barely knew, each with their own set of issues that needed to be addressed. And now, to add insult to injury, the boys had the added trauma of being attacked for no reason by someone who was supposed to love and support them unconditionally. How did you explain that to a child? In the end, she didn’t know if she had the emotional capabilities to have that conversation with them.

“I’ll take Roy. If he’s locked himself in the bathroom, then he’s aware enough to know he’s likely in the middle of a flashback. The hardest part will be calming him down and convincing him he’s not a danger.”

“Got it.” Hughes nodded and made his way to the room. He knocked on the door and softly called out to them. Once the door was unlocked, he slipped inside and closed it again.

Content with knowing that the boys would be safe in case Roy did deteriorate, she made her way to the bathroom.

She repeated Hughes’ process, knocking on the door and calling for Roy. There was no answer and the door remained locked.

“You know I have a key, right?” she said. “One way or another, I’m coming in.”

The lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Roy.

“Oh, God.” She put her hand to her mouth as she took in the sight of him. He looked awful.

Surprisingly so. She hadn’t seen him for only about an hour. In that hour, he appeared to have aged significantly. He was pale, shaking, with dark circles under his eyes. His uniform had practically been torn off in an effort to get rid of the restricting cloth. Dried blood tracked from his nose to his chin, scarlet drops staining his shirt and sleeves from where he had attempted to wipe it off. But that wasn’t the most horrifying part. The most horrifying part were his hands.

Strips of white cloth hung from his hands with deep scratches running down the back of his hands. He had torn the gloves to shreds, but not to take them off. After all, if the goal was to take them off, he could have easily torn them off. No, this was done to completely destroy the circle on the back of them and render them useless. And now she was looking at the pristine white stained red and the gouges in the back of his hands continued to dribble a steady stream of blood.

She cleared her throat and composed herself. It would not do for both of them to be falling apart right now.

“Can I come in? Please, so we can talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Roy asked, practically collapsing on the toilet and hanging his head.

She noticed that the scratches on the back of his hands were not the only injuries he had. His palm of his left hand was blistered from where he had grabbed something hot, and probably flung it out the window. The tattered white glove melted into the burned flesh, bit of cloth caught and twisted up in the blistered skin.

She stepped inside, closed the door, and dug out the first aid kit. Kneeling in front of him, she got to work tending to his injuries, glad he wasn’t fighting her on this. She grabbed some tweezers and set to work peeling the glove from the burn. Roy didn’t even flinch as his skin broke and peeled off with it, causing more blood to dribble out and splash onto the floor in brilliant scarlet puddles. Thankfully, the burn only looked to be second degree. She had plenty of experience with this kind, especially when Roy was first learning fire alchemy. She’d keep an eye on it and make sure it wasn’t infected. Besides, Roy wasn’t likely to want to go to the hospital right now.

“We can start with ‘are you okay?’.”

“Am I okay?” he let out a dry, humorless laugh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he snapped. “It doesn’t because I hurt Ed. I threw him across the room. He could have died. He was so small… and he didn’t get up from the floor after I hurt him. I thought he was dead. Crumpled over… he looked dead. I could have killed him. He could have died and it would have been all my fault.”

“But he didn’t,” Riza said, hoping that was still true. Hughes hadn’t come out in a panic saying Ed was unresponsive, at the very least.

“It doesn’t matter. I hurt him. I scared Al at the very least. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. That’s not what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to protect them and instead…”

“It was an accident.”

“It doesn’t matter. If your father threw you against a wall, would you ever trust him again?”

“That’s different. My father—”

“It’s not different and you know it. I am supposed to be in control of myself. I’m supposed to keep them safe. I can’t even keep them safe from myself. What if I snapped? I had my gloves on. I wasn’t sure where I was or what was going on. What if I snapped? How hurt do they need to be before you admit I’m a danger to them and they shouldn’t be around me?”

“Roy, you know it’s more complicated than that. You didn’t purposefully hurt them. You locked yourself away to keep them safe. You hurt yourself to keep them safe. They didn’t know about the meat, but now that they do. They can avoid it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. I can never trust myself around them again. Take them. Tonight, take them to your apartment and get in contact with my aunt. She can help get them a good home. Please, Riza. Please, do this for me. I need you to do this for me.”

She finished wrapping his hands and held them in her own. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You have to.”

“I don’t have to.” She looked him in the eyes, hoping he would understand everything she couldn’t say. “Roy, those boys love you. Tearing them away from you now would be cruel.”

“It’s in their best interest. It’ll keep them safe.”

“No, it’s in your best interest. And now that you have kids, your best interest comes secondary to theirs.”

“I will hurt them again.”

She squeezed his hands lightly. “No, you won’t, because we’ll work through this. Just like we’re working through Ed’s auditory issues, and Al’s food issues, and Havoc’s relationship issues.”

That got a smile out of him. A small one that was gone in an instant, but it was enough.

“We’ll work through this because we have to. And we will. You’ve already made so much progress. Don’t let this derail you. You can start up therapy again. We can all go together. We can figure out a way to keep them safe. But don’t give up now, not when you’ve made so much progress with them and yourself.”

Roy squeezed her hands back. “If the boys want to leave, you take them, and you find them a better home.”

“They won’t want to leave.” She kissed his cheek and pulled him to the floor so they were sitting side by side, leaning against the bathtub. She rested her head on his shoulder, and waited for Hughes to come out and let them know the boys were okay.

*****

Hughes knew the sight that would greet him when he stepped into Roy’s old room wasn’t going to be pretty. Given the bloodbath out in the kitchen, he knew the boys were likely injured. Still, knowing and seeing were two very different things.

The boys were huddled on the bed. It was clear that out of the two of them, Ed had gotten the brunt of whatever had happened with Roy as he was sporting a very large bruise on his temple and his hands were bleeding from glass.

He had to work hard not to let his horror show on his face and quietly shut the door behind him. “Hey, boy’s how are we feeling?”

“Is Roy okay?” Al asked.

Hughes winced and sat down on the bed, pulling out the travel first aid kit he had brought with him. “Riza’s talking to him now. Don’t you worry. He’ll be right as rain soon enough. That woman’s a miracle worker when it comes to his moods. Come on, let’s see those hands and feet and get that glass out.”

“You first, Al,” Ed said, nudging his brother.

“But… oh, okay.” Al kicked out his feet.

Hughes would have rather taken care of Ed first considering he looked to be more injured. But if the boys weren’t fighting him on this, then he’d follow their leads. Besides, Al’s feet were relatively glass free. Just a few hefty shards in them that would be quick enough to remove. Hands and feet simply bled a lot, in Hughes’ experience.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“It wasn’t Roy’s fault, we swear. We just wanted to cook dinner for him,” Al rushed to explain. “And Fuery said we shouldn’t use the stove but we’ve used the stove before, especially after mom died so we didn’t know it would be a big deal and—”

“Alright, alright, take a deep breath. Did Fuery know you were planning on cooking meat?”

“Of course, he did,” Ed scoffed. Then he faltered. “Or… maybe he didn’t. We told him we were making bread and brownies, I think. But I don’t remember ever telling him about the meat.”

“And the lady at the store kept distracting him.”

“And he left before we started cooking.”

Made sense. Fuery knew about Roy’s trigger and would have steered the boys towards something that didn’t have a similar scent to that of burning human flesh had he known what they were planning.

“What happened?” Al asked. “I’ve never seen Roy do that before. It was almost like…” he hesitated and turned to Ed. “It was almost like you, when you have your meltdowns.”

Ed’s cheeks turned pink and he turned away, ashamed.

“None of that now, you can’t help it. Right?”

Ed nodded pitifully.

With Al’s feet bandaged up and taken care of, Hughes cracked open a cold cloth and held it to Ed’s bruised head. He did a quick check on the stump to ensure nothing had torn open. Satisfied that the arm wouldn’t need further first aid, he focused on the rest of Ed’s injuries. “There you go. Come on, give me your hand.”

He reluctantly outstretched his hand. “Is that what happened? Did Roy have a meltdown, only instead of noise, it’s smell?”

“Something like that.” He was starting to realize why Riza chose to talk to Roy instead of the boys. What was a child friendly way of saying ‘Your dad cooked people alive for a few months and now the smell of meat causes intense flashbacks that makes him think he’s still in a war zone so he freaks out and attacks people’?

Yeah, that wasn’t going to go over well. But he had to say something for them to understand.

“Look, boys, you know that Roy is a soldier, right?”

They nodded.

“And you know he served in Ishval for a brief time, right?”

Once more, they nodded.

“Sometimes, when someone goes through something traumatic, it changes the way their brain works. It’s like— it’s like the brain doesn’t realize it’s no longer in that situation, but it will react like it still is.”

Oh, he was going to hell for what he was about to say next. “When the train station blew up, do you remember what it smelled like?”

Ed and Al looked at each other, brows furrowed as they puzzled through the question.

“Smoke…” Al said.

“Burning wood.” Ed added.

“Hot metal and dust.”

“And meat. Like cooked meat…” Ed trailed off at the end.

Hughes nodded. “It smelled like that a lot in Ishval too.”

“But, I don’t get it. Al and I can handle the smell of meat just fine.”

“That’s just it, we can’t predict what will set our brains off. Riza and I can also handle the smell of cooked meat. But for me, any time a car backfires, that can set me off. For Riza, it’s the sound of bell towers.”

“Bell towers?” Al asked.

“She was often up in bell towers for her work. Even now, if she starts to hear a bell, she’ll get a far off look in her eyes. I know one soldier who has flashbacks anytime he sees a Xingese poppy. They had fields of them back in Ishval, bright, colorful, blood red flowers. They’re absolutely beautiful. But one time I brought them into the office and the soldier had a panic attack. He didn’t even realize how strong the association was.”

“That’s awful,” Al said.

“Yeah, it is. You’re right in saying it’s a lot like Ed’s auditory sensitives. We can’t exactly control it and everyone is different, but the result is the same. Panic, and almost no control over your actions.”

“Then it’s all our fault,” Al said softly.

“No, you didn’t know. We should have talked to you about this earlier,” Hughes said.

“But—”

“But nothing. It was an oversight on our part. Now you know and you won’t do it again. Right?”

Ed and Al nodded, still huddled on the bed.

Hughes wanted to offer them more comfort, but he had a feeling he wasn’t who the boys wanted at the moment. God he hoped Hawkeye managed to work her magic, because these boys needed a big hug.

“Do you boys want to talk to Roy?”

They looked at each other. “Is he okay?” Ed asked.

“I can go ask Riza and see, but it sounds like he’s managed to calm himself down. Besides, we should probably talk about what to do if this happens again.”

“We won’t cook meat again,” Al rushed to say.

“I know, but this issue is complex. Remember the poppies? There might be another trigger we don’t even know about. Besides, it can be impacted by different things. High stress, poor sleep, a time of year. It’s better to be safe than sorry, okay?”

“Okay,” the boys mumbled.

“Good. Now come, let’s see if Roy’s doing better.” He slipped off the bed and opened the door. “Hawkeye, how’s Roy doing? Does he want to see the boys?”

The bathroom door opened and Riza walked out tugging a reluctant Roy behind her. He winced upon seeing his friends hands bandaged and the aftermath of a bloody nose staining his face. Roy caught Hughes’ eye and all he could see was shame. Hughes wasn’t having any of it. This idiot needed to see that his kids still loved him and were more worried about his well being than their own.

He turned back to the bedroom with a gentle smile. “Come on, boys, let’s see if Roy needs a hug.”

They slipped off the bed, limping as they tried to keep their weight off their tender feet. He wondered if Roy would be steady enough to scoop them up and carry them to the living room. If not, Hughes would take one and Riza could take the other.

The boys were determined to stand on their own two feet, though, and stepped out into the hall just as Roy did.

Hughes wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but Ed and Al practically flying into Roy’s arms and hugging him with all their might was not high on the list. Roy caught them, didn’t even hesitate to wrap his arms around them and collapse to his knees as he held the boys tight, all three of them whispering tearful apologies with promises to never do it again.

Soon, Roy’s tearful apologies devolved into Xingese, something he still did if he was very emotional. Hughes caught some whispered pet names that had since been assigned to Ed and Al (not that he knew what they meant) as well as more apologies. He thought he even heard Roy slip in an ‘I love you’, but his Xingese was so terrible, he couldn’t be confident. Besides, he wasn’t even sure Roy had said it to Ed and Al in Amestrian yet, even if it was obvious to anyone who spent more than two minutes with Roy and the boys.

Regardless of what Roy was saying, it seemed to have the intended effect on calming all three of them down. The boys practically burrowed themselves into Roy’s chest, gripping his shoulders with all their might. Roy himself seemed to relax the longer he held them in his arms, tension visibly bleeding from his shoulders as he situated himself to wrap the kids more tightly in his arms.

Hughes let out a sigh of relief and caught Riza’s eyes. She looked as wrung out as he felt, but at least no lasting damage had been done. And now they could move forward, starting with cleaning the kitchen.

*****

It took hours to clean the mess he had made, the sun now completely gone from the sky and the streetlights all illuminated in the night. It was probably the latest Ed and Al had ever stayed up since coming into Roy’s care. But he didn’t feel like sending them to bed, not when so much chaos still littered his home.

The window was completely shattered so Hughes had to rush to find some plywood before the hardware store shut down and then hammered it in as a temporary fix. He’d figure out how to alchemize glass tomorrow so he could get his security deposit back. It was strange how, with everything that had happened, that was what his mind decided to fixate on. It was a legitimate concern, but definitely not a top priority.

The cast iron skillet was nowhere to be found. Someone probably picked it up and carried it home. It was a very nice skillet, donated by Havoc’s great-grandma’s boyfriend’s cousin’s husband’s widowed sister-in-law. He hoped the man would be understanding as to why it was no longer mixed in with the pots and pans. He had also shattered a nice ceramic bowl Breda had gifted him that was in Ed’s arms when he threw him across the room (he’d never forgive himself for that).

The only things that survived his rampage was the homemade bread and about half the brownies that remained in the pan after it had fallen from the counter.

They ended up calling for take-out while Hughes rushed to buy some plywood for the window. What was supposed to be a surprise dinner made by his kids ended up being some weird, fusion Cretan and Xingese food from a restaurant that opened up down the street, some (rather tasty) homemade bread, and brownies with ice cream on top. Over all, not a bad meal. He did manage to get a smile out of them after complimenting their bread, but the mood was definitely soured from his freak out.

After they had eaten dinner and the plywood had been hammered to the window, no doubt decreasing the all the property values in a five-block radius, Riza and Hughes worked on the rest of the mess he made. They scrubbed the kitchen of bloody footprints, picked up the glass, swept up wilted spinach, threw out the remaining shreds of his gloves, and got to work soaking the bloodstains out of his and the boys’ clothes.

The boys wanted to help. Mustang was quick to shut that idea upon seeing their bandaged feet and made them sit on the couch listening to a radio program about some masked hero with a magic car that helped him fight crime. However, when Mustang tried to help (after all, it was his mess), Riza and Hughes ganged up and forced him to sit on the couch, pointing out that his left hand had second degree burns on it and both hands had been shredded in his desperate attempt to destroy the circle on his gloves before he lost himself completely and hurt his boys even worse. He tried to argue. It didn’t work.

This led to all three of them awkwardly and stiffly sitting on the couch while Riza and Hughes cleaned in the background. Yes, Mustang had hugged them both, cried into their shoulders, and let the relief of knowing they were okay wash over him. But that was the result of him still feeling so raw, emotional, and a bit off-kilter. Now that he had calmed down and the smell of pork was mostly gone, he still didn’t know how this impacted their relationship. Would the boys even want to be around him now that they had seen this ugly, despicable side of him? Were they scared of him? Did they even comprehend what was going on? How much of his ugly past did Hughes tell them?

He still stood by what he told Riza. The second they told him they wanted out he’d let them go willingly. He trusted Aunt Chris to find them a perfect home. One with a mother and father that weren’t fucked up in the head. That would cook them fantastic homemade meals and take them to the park and read them bedtime stories and be everything they needed and more. It was yet another crushing reminder how lacking Mustang was in so many respects.

Although, his boys were fantastic children. They were so empathetic and sensitive to other people’s emotions. They might not come out and say they wanted to leave. He should be the one to suggest it. Of course, if he did that and they didn’t want to leave, this could lead to another breakdown of Ed thinking Mustang hated him and wanted to get rid of them.

No matter how he worked on the problem, there were no right answers.

The superhero car show ended and a soap opera began. The main character started moaning and complaining about how her husband was actually his evil twin brother and had murdered him months ago and had taken his spot. He hoped Riza and Hughes would be done soon. Then he could send the boys to bed and spend the rest of the night drinking himself into a stupor.

He couldn’t take the awkward silence any more. It was suffocating him slowly, filling the room up with an uncomfortable miasma. He told himself if the boys were asleep, it was one less thing to worry about. But it wasn’t helping. There was an obvious elephant in the room, stuck in the corner and rapidly expanding as silence stretched on and Roy’s thoughts raced.

Hughes had addressed it. But he hadn’t. He needed to. He didn’t want to, but he needed to. But he couldn’t. How do you address it? How do you reveal yourself to be a flawed, dangerous human being? Why couldn’t he ignore the elephant? Why did it have to be there, constantly looming and filling all his waking hours with the fear that this would be the day he’d finally snap and kill someone?

Surprisingly, it was Ed that broke the silence first.

“So, you’re like me, then?”

Mustang blinked and turned to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re like me,” Ed said as if that clarified anything. Upon seeing that Mustang still looked confused, he groaned. “Like, with noises. It gets too loud and then I freak out. I hit you or shove Al and it takes me awhile to calm down. But with you, it ain’t noise. It’s meat.”

“I… um, actually, yeah, that’s a pretty good way to look at it. It’s not exact.”

“Good enough, though. Right?”

“I suppose so.”

They lapsed back into an awkward silence. The elephant was still there. The problem hadn’t been solved.

“It seems to me, then,” Ed said, breaking it once more, “that if you’re like me, and I know I can’t control how I react sometimes, then you shouldn’t feel guilty either.”

“I threw you into the kitchen cabinets,” Mustang said, still hating that he now had to live with that.

“And I bit you.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. Mine left a scar.”

“Brother,” Al sighed.

“What? He’s sitting there all mopey because of this. I’m just trying to help.”

“That’s true,” Al (the traitor) agreed. “You don’t have to be mopey, Roy. We know it was an accident.” He gave him a soft and genuine smile.

“Mopey?” he sputtered. That word sounded so, childish. He was not moping. He was reflecting on how horrible of a person he was. “Aren’t you boys scared, though? I could have seriously hurt you.”

“It was scary at first,” Al said. “But now that we know what’s happening, it’s not so scary. Just like how the first-time brother had a meltdown it was scary, but now we know how to help and how to prevent them. Right?”

He hated how much sense these two were making. Thankfully, the conversation was cut short with Riza and Hughes stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Alright, the kitchen is about as clean as it’s going to get,” Hughes said, yawning. “Are you going to be okay if I head back home?”

Mustang nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for all your help.”

“No problem,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving the apartment.

“Do you mind if I stay over?” Riza asked, sitting next to them on the couch.

Thank god. As much as Mustang appreciated his boys being so understanding about this, he did not want to deal with the night alone. And if he was left alone, he’d probably start drinking. Something that, if there weren’t children in the apartment, would be a bad idea. But because there were children in the apartment, it was an appalling idea. The last thing he needed after hurting and scaring the boys, was to get drunk and become even more belligerent and uncontrollable.

“Of course not.” He smiled at her, squeezing her hand softly.

“You can have our room, then,” Al said, ever the gentleman and perfect host.

Riza smiled. “That’s okay, Alphonse. I have no issues sleeping on the pull out for one night.”

“No, Ed and I can sleep on the pull out tonight and you can sleep on the bed. You’re the guest so you get the bed,” Al said. He was starting to take after Riza with his tone of voice. Roy would have to watch him to make sure he didn’t pick up on any of her other habits. Mainly her penchant for paperwork and arriving everywhere at least thirty minutes early.

Mustang’s brow furrowed. “I’m used to sleeping on the pullout so it only makes sense that Riza and I sleep on it tonight.”

Ed rolled his eyes and elbowed him. “Yeah, you’re going to sleep on the pull out with Al and I. Ms. Riza will sleep on the bed. It’s not that hard.”

“Wait, no—”

Riza squeezed his hand once more. “It’s fine,” she whispered to him.

Fair enough. Besides, after the night he just had, he wasn’t up for any arguments. And it might be nice to have his boys close to him for the night anyways. Besides, he’d assign Havoc and the men babysitting duty one weekend so that he and Riza could get some actual alone time.