Chapter Text
It was too vivid. For some reason, that struck him as strange. As fascinating. But why wouldn’t it be? The early harvest had always been so lively.
Between two trees stretched a wall of brier. The leaves were dark, the grapes were a shiny blue-ish purple. A rare bundle had already fallen to rot at the ground, leaving the air a little sour.
“We’ll have to get more buckets.” Pitt commented.
“Are we picking them all today?” Ed asked. Something was squirming in his arm. Probably one of the worms or a wasp. “Well, not the under-ripe ones, obviously, but– you know– are we picking all of the good ones?”
Pitt brushed past him, pushing past leaves and plucking up a good bundle. “Yeah.”
Ed bent forward, peering over his shoulder. “...A lot of ‘em have green ones, even on the good clutches.”
“I thought you wanted to make jelly.” challenged Pitt.
Flower buds were leaking from the vines; more vines were scratching at the ground. Pitt stepped back a little when they tried to lock him in place.
The squirming made it to his shoulder, something small and red popping out to crawl itchilly along his neck before digging in just beneath his ear. Actually digging. He couldn’t see it– could never see it– but it burrowed through dermis before finally settling. There was no blood.
His arm was coming undone more than he’d prefer. Grumbling, Ed gave it a once over and figured that it would probably last long enough to finish the jelly making. And besides, he still had one left, didn’t he?
“Are you going to help or not?” Pitt said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ed grumbled.
The vines were not a bush; there was nothing to stabilize the thing nor root it down. Was that odd? Nah, it had the trees.
The leaves pulled back. It was darker on the inside. The buds grinned bright white and chattered excitedly. Pitt was talking- but it didn’t sound like Pitt. It was distant and loud, but not in a way Ed could put into words. He wasn’t yelling. There were no walls to amplify his voice nor cause the echo.
He tried to touch the vines, to pick, but they just kept chattering. His arm was sloughing off, falling to the rotting grapes and eager bugs below. The leg he’d lost a while ago, sure, but three limbs were preferable to just two. No matter; life would go on. At least the bugs were happy.
‘Pitt’ went quiet. The chattering never stopped. Maybe he’d said “undone” and “light”, but it was hard to hear.
Ed really hadn’t gotten around to picking anything yet, had he? Time to-
-
A soft touch to the shoulder was what woke him. Not the jolt of the train, nor the hustle of other passengers breaking for the viney gate– No, no, that was just a regular exit. Connected to a regular train. Because this was reality.
“It’s time to go, brother.” Al said, words, like his hand on Ed’s shoulder, soft.
Once outside and far away enough from the constant bustle of moving bodies, “Do you feel better?” Al asked.
He didn’t. “I will when I’m more awake.” Which, at this point, meant never.
It was bright out. Kind of painful, honestly, but he just needed to wait for his eyes to adjust. At least he didn’t feel sick anymore.
“Maybe some food will help- you like the Xingese place near Central Command, do you want to stop by there first?”
“Nah, it’s a waste of time.” Did he even have an appetite? Correction; would his body be a passive aggressive little brat on him if he ate?
The muted creaks of well-oiled metal signified that Al was looking at him. “It’s on the way…?” Had Ed bothered to look up, he’d see Al’s posture to be in a Downwards Arch sort of bend; Al was aiming to convince rather than ask.
“And a waste of money.” They were walking. It took a while to remember where to (thank the stars for muscle memory).
Al was chatting to him, that voice of bells a comforting drone as they passed through familiar streets. Every so often, Ed would give an acknowledgement that yes, what Al was saying was totally interesting and he certainly was not still in la la land.
A premature stop before they had actually reached their destination. Had Ed forgotten something? He glanced up to Al, brow raised through the squinting.
“This won’t take long.” Al assured, going inside. Ed remembered to follow before the door had a chance to close. Rolling his shoulders and stretching his back, he took in the savoury tang in the air. Huh, so maybe he had an appetite after all.
“Brother, can I borrow the wallet?” Al asked at what should have obviously been a counter. Because this was a restaurant. Because Al had made a pit-stop at that one nice place with the word ‘Orange’ in the name. Dang it, Al.
“‘Course.” It was both of theirs, after all. If Al had pockets, he’d probably be the one to carry it, or maybe they would both have their own.
Al spoke to the older person across the counter, and Ed– didn’t really bother listening. The was a small cat statue at the end of the counter that would bob its paw if poked. He was rather fond of it.
“-Ed?” Al wanted him. It didn’t hurt to look up now, since there was no sun to bite at his retinas, so Ed’s smile came across more genuine rather than grimace-adjacent.
Something was being held out to him, Edward accepted. “Thanks.” …It wasn’t his wallet?
“It’s salmon onigiri.” Al explained.
So he had an appetite after all .
Al snickered, probably at some expression Ed had made, so Ed puffed back up at him, spun around, and cantered off.
“Wha- Brother! .”
Now it was Ed’s turn to snicker, picking up the pace so as to force Al to all but give chase. ‘Cackle’ was probably a better word. ‘Like a loon’ being the appropriate description.
You know, if he really wanted to…
“ Brother! ” Al called as Ed took to a sprint.
Al was strong and sociable, sure, but Ed was fast . Leaving Al in the dust was as easy as strewing together an array to liquify oxygen.
Stopping only after there was… considerably enough space between them, Ed leaned against some nearby building and ate while waiting.
Damn, the onigiri was good. Which was probably why some cat came around to hang out in his peripheral. They’d probably been rolling around in something, if the stench was to be taken into account.
Al’s heavy footfalls were something he knew by heart. And, upon hearing them after several solid minutes, to not snicker would be a difficulty even the great Fullmetal Alchemist couldn’t resist.
“I don’t think that was very funny.” Al rebuked.
Ed shrugged, humming out what would otherwise have been “If you say so.”
Al noticed the cat.
Edward glared up through the harsh glint. “No.”
“But he looks hungry!” Al defended.
“Al.”
“And it was rainy just a few days ago…”
“Not. Happening.”
“But look at him!” Al was gesturing with both arms, as if seeing the brownish-yellow critter would change his mind any. “He’s so scrawny and lonely!”
Rolling his eyes and leaning towards the thing, Ed did, in fact, look at the cat. “They’re not scrawny; they’re toned.” Ed observed. ‘And, anyway, they probably already have a family.”
“Then why would he be out here?” Al challenged.
“Would they be just sitting there otherwise?” All the while, the cat had been far too close to be a feral. Too close and too comfortable; they were practically smirking at him. Rather emotive for an animal that lacked the necessary facial muscles.
“He’s probably a runaway, and someone drew all over him.” Huh? “Can’t we keep him, just while we’re in Central?”
“And keep them where? In the dorm? They won’t allow animals there- and time spent with us is time missing from wherever they’re supposed to be. Or, time they’re not getting a new family. Just leave ‘em be, alright?”
“But what if-” And Ed stopped listening.
Instead, he crouched down and tugged out the remaining fish from his meal, setting it down before the smug but otherwise polite feline. No collar. Weird eyes, too, but at least those contracted slits proved that it was actually bright out rather than a creation of Ed’s own mind. The red marks were weird, he’d give Al that much, but they were too clean to be from a child. Actually they reminded him of-
Ed tugged his collar up a little, standing up and pointing his chin at Al. “There, now can we go?” And, before Al could respond, Ed crammed the rest of the rice ball into his mouth and set back down the way.
“Uhm, brother?”
Was Al really going to drag this out?
“It’s the other way.”
Ed choked a little. Al had the grace to stifle his laugh.
—
The cat followed. Through the streets, over puddles and along the sidewalk, the dang thing stayed hot on Ed’s tail.
He knew feeding wild animals was never a good idea, but dang .
“I think he likes you, brother.” Al commented cheerily from behind.
“Don’t get used to it.” Ed aggrieved.
The thing nearly tripped him, butting at his legs and weaving between them before mewling proudly at Ed’s stumbling.
Ed attempted to bite back a groan, hastening in an attempt to put some distance between them. To make things just that little bit sweeter, it was starting to sprinkle. If his ports were anything to go by, it shouldn’t get too bad? Eh, maybe he’d just felt crummy for long enough that it didn’t phase him. Or it could hit him later.
Speaking of hitting -
Al laughed, Ed groaned louder; the cat had leapt onto his back to perch, apparently none too keen on Ed’s speed.
Twisting around and working to detangle the odious animal from his hair, Ed tried to keep his word from being venomous, “You hold them.” He was going ti be scratched up to high heavens by the end of this.
Add armor on things normally unable to emote. The cheeky twerp…
“And, again, do not get attached.” Ed pointed an accusatory finger at Al. “The second we’ve dealt with the Colonel, we’re gone. We don’t have a home to offer them.”
“Why do you have to be so mean about the Colonel? He’s done so much for us.” Al commented, lightly rubbing at the upside down triangle on the cat’s forehead. “And the cat seems pretty mobile.”
“Can we just not?” Ed rubbed the rain from his face. “Do we really have to do this right now? I’ve already got this meeting to deal with.”
“Things would have been better if you hadn’t put it off for so long.” Al reminded.
Ed chewed at his cheek, considering the Command’s gates as they stopped. “...Not my fault I got sick.”
Al bent back, alarm touching his tone, “I didn’t mean-” Great, now Al felt bad.
“And even if we’d gotten here earlier, I’d still have to listen to Colonel Sarcasm tellin’ me how I’ve screwed up.”
Al still looked kinda upset so time for a world class Mustang impression; “Struck out on the philosopher’s stone again, huh? How’m I supposed ta keep funding this goosechase? Money doesn’t grow on trees, there, chief! Ed? Where’ve you run off to? Oh! There you are! I didn't see you behind my paperwork, seeing as how you’re so short and all.” Ed finished with some belly-deep laughter before dropping the act with a dramatic sigh.
It occurred to him that he’d been flailing around, swaying and ducking and pointing as if to accentuate his words.
Which was a bad thing. This was Central Command and he needed his coworkers to at least pretend to respect him. Even the most deep-rooted of theatrics couldn’t be afforded.
Credit where it’s due; he did manage to not say anything particularly nasty about the jerk sitting suave behind his desk in some office. Didn’t say a single thing about past threats, nor stalking,– nor the whole Nina and Tucker incident.
Nope. Not a word.
Ed bit back a second sigh, this one to better fill his lungs (a yawn?), then fixed his posture. “I know,” he answered the silence, “We’re already here, so I might as well get the verbal abuse over with.”
He was answered with more silence. Not exactly how it’s supposed to go.
Blinking up to where Al should be revealed empty air. Well, empty so long as the rain drops were ignored. “Al?” Ed asked.
“He’s over there.” Answered a scratchy, keening voice.
Ed looked down to where the cat was sitting with that too-emotive smirk.
“Did you just–”
“Hello, Fullmetal pipsqueak.” cooed the critter.
Ed stared for a hard moment.Traced the shape of the cat’s face, the way water messed with their fur, the gold and purple eyes.
A different tactic: he pressed his heels more firmly into the earth, noting the sensation of sodden cement against the rubber of his soles; focused on the pitter patter of increasingly heavy droplets against his head, the ground, and the gate; how the water was stealing his warmth and leaving him just that little bit more tired.
(It was all too vivid.)
So, he was probably awake. Or not; his dreams had been increasingly, weirdly, life-like of late.
“A talking cat.” Ed finally stated.
“A bit slow to the punch, hm?” Purred the fabrication.
This was a problem, but he couldn’t deal with it just yet. Assuming that he was awake, he still had that meeting to endure; and if he was asleep, he could just shrug this off upon waking or… something.
Ed spotted Al crouching some ways off with his back to him. “Al!” Ed called sharply, already opening the detestable gate. Alphonse called back with a startled response.
( Between two trees stretched a wall of brier. )
“Rather eager to get away from the flame, are we?” Mused the cat. “I’m sure it can be arranged, if you really want it. But that isn’t why I’m here.”
“Let’s go.” Ed told Al once he was near enough to speak to.
–
Ed tried to get rid of the cat. Really, he did.
He closed doors between them, pried the furball off from his shoulders, everything .
At least Al wasn’t acting like something was off; the cat was real, probably. Or the whole thing was a dream and the cat just a part of it. Who knew.
Certainly not Ed.
“We need to talk once we get the chance.” Purred the cat into his ear before Ed promptly tossed them to Al, his patience (and nerves) finally worn thin.
After making all the necessary turns, Ed stopped at the door to Mustang’s little club of subordinates.
“Brother?”
A twist of the knob revealed that it… wasn’t. “Er, sorry..” He didn’t recognize any of the officers inside. Ed closed the door and headed for one a little further down.
(Breath in, breath out.)
A quick survey of the room proved this one to be correct. The guy Ed actually liked had wedged himself between the ceiling and a cabinet, the rest all standing around whilst the redhead babbled insensibly.
Was this a testament to the dream theory, or to these people’s unprofessionalism?
Or, if this all was real, did that mean no perch was off limits?
One of the officers (hiii, person whose name he actually knew) spotted and addressed him. The words probably weren't too important to catch; that it was a borderline warm greeting still carried.
“So, uh, should I come back later?” Ed queried genuinely.
The cat leapt to his upper back, digging their claws into his scalp.
(It was all too vivid-)
A smaller sound rang out; a kitten’s meow?
The lapdog with the known name (‘Hawkeye’) asked something. Ed tried to keep the scowl from his face.
“If you’ll excuse me, Al and I need to talk.” Hissed Ed, turning tail and yanking Al back.
“Edward, you have a report due to the Colonel.” Called out Hawkeye (hard to forget an animal and body part stitched into a title).
Ed swept back in for a moment to give her a proper salute. “Yes, sir, I’ll speak with him immediately after.”
–
He was trying to be patient. Really, he was.
There was a kitten stowed in Al’s armor, just as soaked as the rest of them. A little bit of alchemy dried them all right up.
He knew Al had a big heart, just… “We don’t have the means to care for them.” Ed reasoned, petting the tiny thing. The other one was quiet, sitting rank with reak.
“I can’t help it, she was calling to me.” Al said as he sat cross legged against the wall. No sound of approaching footsteps as of yet, meaning there was little worry of anyone wondering why an empty suit of armor was set half open in a military base’s hallway.
“You can’t just pick up any stray you see.” He’d probably said that one before, but he was having trouble thinking anything up at the moment so to predetermined scripts the default goes.
(He’d rather not say much at all, honestly. Every word took a heftier expense than felt reasonable. What he wanted to do was wait until inflation stopped being a pain in the skull– pun very much intended.)
“But she’s cold and hungry, can’t we keep her just for now?”
Patience, patie- “No, Al! Now go put her back where ya found ‘er!” Dang it.
Al whimpered, curling into himself. “Jerk!” He cried, lashing out his arm and taking off.
Recovering from having been swept aside, Ed made to call out-
“I hate you, brother, you’re not even human!” Alphonse screamed as he ran.
The words clung to his throat, choking him in place.
A coy chuckle from somewhere-
-far too close for comfort.
“Well if you look at that.~” Their tail twitched into an upwards arch as they stood. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up.” Ed hissed to the cat, leaning against the wall upon standing. Pop quiz: Would the weather not bug him or would it wait until later? Later it was, prizes for everyone! Except for Ed.
Ed traced Al’s clanks for a minute, half wondering why it hurt so much. Not his ports, those were about as obvious as the rain hitting the roof.
It was denial, but acknowledging the denial made denying more difficult, so denying the denial was a more dutiful approach and we all know how important duty can be.
–
By the time Fullmetal finally decided to show up, it was already well past ten. Roy had been in his office for hours, his mound of paperwork untouched. As for Fullmetal himself, there wasn’t a drop of water on him; he must have gotten inside at least an hour ago.
“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up.” Roy drawled.
Fullmetal grumbled, trying to nudge some animal outside of the inner office door. Spectacularly, he was knocked back as the murkily colored thing body slammed into the barrier. Finally giving up, he let the cat in and bucked the door closed before flouncing into the couch.
“Reporting in, sir .” Fullmetal droned, face flushed and irritation rolling from him like steam. The cat attempted to sit on the couch next to him. He pushed them away, fruitlessly, and instead turned as far away from the feline as possible.
“Brought a friend with you?” Roy asked amusedly. Fullmetal mumbled something about vermin and was promptly rewarded by the thing jumping onto his shoulders. Sounding out with wordless anger and, in one prompt motion, swept the cat off of himself before making to the center of the room.
“You want ‘em?” Fullmetal practically spat.
“Careful, Fullmetal.” Roy intoned, idly lifting up a prepared thicket of papers. “Care to explain to me why it’s taken you over three months to stop by?”
“I was in Lior on a mission.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “That I sent you on, and which you never reported in for.”
He crossed his arms and slouched for a half second. “I’ve been busy.” Fullmetal grumbled.
Roy flipped a page. “So I’ve heard. You’ve done quite a bit of freelancing of late. So, tell me, is Psiren really a ten under the mask?”
Ever in motion, those arms uncrossed, hands raising and fingers half unfurled. The flushing burned darker, his head snapping to a corner, eyes burning, and lip curled into a surprisingly blue sneer. Never a dull moment with the kid around. “SoyouknoweverythingId, g reat! I’m glad we had this talk.”
And while Roy certainly could drag this out longer, there was some important business they needed to attend to. “I’ve also been informed that you fell ill in Xenotime. Before you are allowed to leave this city, You are to bring me a doctor’s written and signed report of good health. Am I understood?”
Fullmetal’s uncanny eyes rounded with horror, apparently either forgetting or not knowing that the doctor he’d already seen had gotten in touch with Roy a good while ago. The hassle of another examination might make up for all of the headaches from the bad press.
That the brat was none too subtly terrified of hospitals was just the cherry on top.
“ Am I understood? ” Roy repeated, louder this time.
Fullmetal gritted his teeth, every inch of him coiled like the spring of a barrel. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You are dismissed. And try not to blow anything up while you're around? You’ve caused enough trouble of late.”
Fullmetal bowed at the waist and made for the door.
“Fullmetal.”
He grit his teeth. “Yes, sir .” Came the verbalization.
The kid really was too easy.
Fullmetal left without any further issue, leaving Roy alone for a beautiful moment.
Any pretense of getting actual work done got tossed out; Hughes’ voice sounded from the outer office, amicable as he greeted Roy’s youngest subordinate. The interaction, muffled though it was by the solid wood door and desirably thick walls, sounded rather one sided and more than a little forced.
Pretty soon things went quiet, Hughes letting himself into the inner office with a decidedly pointed look. “Mind telling me why Ed looks ready to punch a wall?”
“He’s a teen. Teens are hormonal and well known for their mood swings.” He handwaved. If he was about to be grilled over nothing then he wasn’t going to be passive about it.
“ Roy ,” his friend pinched his brow, pulling out the chair in front of the desk. “If you don’t start working to fix things with him he’s going to resent you.”
“He already resents me.” Roy countered. “He’s hated me since the first time I met him face-to-face. If he comes around it will be his own decision. And so long as he does his job and follows my orders, it doesn’t matter.”
“You said he respected you in the beginning.” Hughes stated.
“When.”
“The day before I met him. You said he downnear worshipped you.” Hughes reminded.
Roy rolled his eyes, “And when he got here he started screaming at me.”
“You set him up on a train of hostels .” There it was, the same old conversation Hughes liked to dig up.
What Hughes refused to acknowledge was just how effective the ploy had been. But, then again, Hughes was equal parts Father and Bleeding Heart.
“This is the military; if he was too weak willed to handle such a small scale situation then how would he stand a chance in the field?”
“He is a child .” Hughes grossed, tone almost pathetic in its plea. “And if you just keep on punching down on him, you’ll lose yourself an invaluable asset.”
That was where Hughes was wrong. “He’s already served his function; everything else is just complimentary.” And, before Hughes could respond, “I hardly even said anything this time. I ordered him to go see a doctor, which he needs to do anyway. With any luck it will get the brass to stop crying over his health.”
“It’s not today I’m talking about– it’s everything else.”
Roy considered his friend, skeptical.
“You duping him is the foundation of your relationship. And with what went down with the Sewing Life alchemist, Roy, you’re going to lose him.” Imploring now, and over something so utterly trivial . Roy had other issues to deal with, endeavors to see through and networks to tie together.
“We don’t have a relationship.” Roy countered. “I am his employer; he is my subordinate.”
“You don’t think Ed won’t just find someone else to go to? Some other employer who might not treat him like a plaything?” Hughes asked coldly.
Roy smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
Hughes’ brow knit. Oh, he didn’t know about the human transmutation, but he was no stranger to Roy’s typical tactics. Blackmail and bribes worked wonders on those beneath you, and in one Edward Elric those hooks were sunk deep.
“Alliances founded over hatred are fragile at best. You might be able to fix things with him still. You’ve already gotten your raise for finding him, but he can do so much more for you down the line.”
Roy shuffled some papers, holding back a roll of the eyes. There was little to gain from investing further.
Hughes continued, “A good way to start is by reopening the case with the Sewing Life alchemist. Find out what happened to the daughter, what lab she was sent to. Just give him some closure .”
Roy sighed. “I’ve already spoken to Fullmetal regarding Shou Tucker. He knows about the execution.”
“You ordered him not to look for the girl.”
Silence.
“Roy, listen, I’ve seen Ed with Nina before she was turned into a chimera. He’s protective and more family oriented than you can believe. I’m half convinced he became the honorary brother of some kid back during the train hijacking, and that was only for a few hours .”
“Whatever they had is gone and dead with her mind; she’s an amalgam of parts now. Even if she hasn’t been disemboweled yet, a life like that isn’t a life worth having.”
Hughes’ jaw tightened, “You can’t just say that.”
“He’s a military official. If he can’t handle it, then he’s a liability.” The brass would be all too eager to ward a failure of that sort over his head.
In an instance, Hughes’ expression morphed from abhorrence to disgust. “So you did say that. To him. You said that you hoped the girl was dead.”
“Would you want to live like that? I’d rather have Hawkeye put a bullet in my brow rather than suffer the embarrassment.”
Hughes stared at him.
Slowly, he stood, eyes hard. “I think you need to sit with yourself for a while. I care about you, Roy; I wouldn’t be going to you about this otherwise. And after you’ve reflected, call me? I’m willing to help you work things out with him. The longer you let this lie under the surface, the worse it will be. I’m here for you. Remember that. I’m here and it hurts to see you like this.”
Something the color of mud and mustard bounced off from the couch, stretching willowy legs before looking Roy dead in the eyes.
Hughes followed his gaze, spotting the cat.
If Roy really was so heartless, would he have let Fullmetal bring a fleabag into his personal workspace?
“Care to let out the cat on your way?”
Hughes turned back to him. “I’m being serious. This is important.”
“So am I.”
In the end, the cat did, in fact, make his way out the door.
–
It was surprisingly difficult to find the kid. But, given that it was still pouring outside, it was rather doubtful that he’d have left the building already.
What he didn’t expect was for the kid to be organizing some officer’s personal library. Given the look of the room, whomever’s office this was hadn’t been around in some time.
A low growl was the only acknowledgment he got.
“Rough day?” Envy asked.
Eldritch just kept on with the books, sorting them into increasingly tall piles around himself.
“...Look, I’m going to let you self-soothe for a bit. I get that this stressful. Believe me, I get it. You just… hang out for a little, then we’ll have ourselves that chat. There’s someone you have to see– but they can wait until after.”
A stack of books thudded as they were moved, effectively entombing the kid into the closet. It didn’t look like Eldritch had any plans on leaving.
Shifting himself into a human and adorned in all the ribbons and stars needed, Envy left. The kid hardly twitched at the change.
–
“Are you William?” Ed asked, feeling more than a little numb.
The thing that had been a cat gave a surprised raise of his brows. “You remember me?”
Ed shrugged his good shoulder.
“Hm.” footsteps drew the smell of rot to just a little ways outside of Ed’s little barrier. “What else do you remember?” he had a white paper bag with small, buttery stains at the bottom. If one were to ignore the odor currently stabbing at the sinuses, they might pick up on something warm and fruity.
Ed didn’t bother holding back the snarl. “You pretended to be my brother.”
“No,” Will dropped the bag outside of the stacks, seating himself a little further away. “That part wasn’t a lie.”
Ed stabbed a glare to the offender. “So you’re made of metal and have glowing red eyes?”
“...That part wasn’t true. Okay. You got me there.” he raised his hands palms-out. “I impersonated Alphonse Elric. I did it to keep you with Lust.”
(Ms. L.)
Ed forced himself to stop gnawing at his cheek. Forced his hands still and arms uncurled from his middle.
(It was all too vivid.)
“And yeah, it was a shitty move. That’s on me.” Will went on. “I’ll never use your little brother’s appearance on you again, okay?”
Dammit hands, keep still.
“Promise?” Why the hell would he ask that? Ed needed to keep his trap shut. Just stay quiet and wait until whatever this was wasn’t .
“Promise.” Did that voice sound just a little less grave?
He was going crazy. There was a shapeshifter sitting next to him, he was probably out in a dump somewhere talking to a trash bag and digging his hands into spoilage.
Paper rustled slightly behind him, sounded more hollow and structured than a book’s. The sweet scent grew a little. There was movement behind him.
“Do you want this, or..?”
Will was offering out a muffin, it looked like a blueberry one. He hadn’t crossed the books.
It was still warm when Ed took it. “Thank you.” He heard himself say. Force of habit. “Eep!” he jerked back at an unexpected touch.
“Sorry.” Will said, holding his hands up again. “I just– can I see your wrist for a second?”
Cringing, setting down the treat, Ed scouted toward the disgusting smell and held out his flesh arm.
Ed tensed but forced himself still. “Really don’t like being touched, huh?” Will chuckled.
“You burn.”
Silence.
“...I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
“You sting and you reek.” Ed stated, reminding himself to remain uncurled.
Will let go. Ed drew himself in and back, facing away and covering his mouth with his coat as he drew in a slow breath.
“It hurts when I touch you.” Will interpreted.
“Hm.” Ed bobbed his head.
“Was that the case before, too, or is this a new development?”
“It’s new.” His gut was starting to cramp up. Uncurl, breath slow. It will pass. He dug into the muffin; something inside his stomach usually helped. Unless he was nauseous, but he didn’t think he was? Yeah, no strong reaction to eating; there was no nausea, just cramps.
“And I stink?”
A sharp nod.
“May I ask what like?”
“Kinda like meat from the oven.”
“Which smells… bad?”
“Meat that’s been left in the oven raw and forgotten over a summer weekend.”
“Oh.” There was the sound of skin on skin, nail on nail. “Well, I bathe daily and use cologne. Not sure how to fix things there.”
“La vie continue.” Ed said back, pulling his legs in and wrapping one arm around them.
(Wait, not, he should uncurl.)
“Oui, but it’s hard to work with someone who can’t stand being around you.” Will pointed out.
Ed was quiet for a minute, listening to his surroundings as he chewed.
“You have vines and plugs now. Those weren’t there before.” Will commented after a few minutes.
Ed made an inquisitive sound.
“The lines, like the one on your neck and wrist. I tried to transfer and test them out but you moved.”
Ed puffed.
“It’s not supposed to hurt.” Will assured.
“Why do I have these…” he waved his good arm briefly. “ Things .”
“They’re for transferring. We’re built to give and take. You have nothing, so I figured I’d lend you some.”
“Some what ?” He buried his head into his knees, raking ungloved fingers through his bangs.
“Sustenance?” Will dithered. “Look, we don’t really have a word for it. We transfer to and we transfer from.”
“Not to me.” He left his hand against his scalp.
“Sure.”
Pause.
“So, who all knows?”
About Al, about Mom,-- there were too many things to guess. “Mnm.”
“...Can you say it a different way?”
“I don’t know.” Not what Will was asking, and not who all the colonel had spilled to.
“Does Alphonse know you’re a homunculus?”
Inhale. Pause. Exhale. “Am I?”
“It seems so. Sorry.”
Ed glanced over, worrying his lips. “He doesn’t.”
Will studied him, brow furrowing. “Will you tell him?”
Ed resumed his previous position, swallowing and pawing at the floorboards. “If I am one, then yes.”
“Kid.”
“We’re brothers… we don’t keep secrets. Not about important stuff, at least.” The aim, emphasis on aim , had been to make his voice sound strong; assured. But, apparently, his vocal voids had opted to run off on him. Rude.
“I can’t exactly stop you from telling him.” Admitted Will. “It never ends well, and it won’t be pretty, but by all means. What I need to know is when you stopped being Edward Elric.”
Ed’s hands flexed, trying to grab at comprehension. Social script: employ!
There was no social script for this? Well– commision the committee
Will didn’t seem to notice the flub. “When did you die?”
Ed’s shoulders jumped, muscles tensing as he wheeled. “I didn’t. I haven’t. I am Edward Elric.”
Unphased, uncaring, Will shrugged. A rather pointed look went to Ed’s throat. “If you say so.”
He pulled his collar higher. “If being dead is what being a homunculus means, then I’m not .”
“Okay.”
“I’ve been kicking for fourteen years now, and I’ll keep on kickin’ so long as I’ve got legs ‘n breath.”
Pause.
Will considered him again. “Okay.”
Ed realized he was panting, sucking in the sour air and— his face was burning. He touched his cheek, lips thinning.
“So, you’re still sick then?” Will guessed.
“I flush sometimes.” Ed lied.
“Riiiight.”
Ed crossed his arms and squirmed until he had his back against the doorframe, facing Will.
“Look, I’m trying to help you here, so let’s just be honest; you’re sick. Not nearly as badly as you were before, but you still are.”
Ed could live with that. Who the hell was this face stealing jerk, anyway? Who died to make him courtesy supreme?
(No, bad Ed; don’t refuse help out of hand. See what can be offered first and on what terms.)
“And I know you’re disabled, so let’s just get that out of the way. You’re an amputee and automailer, obviously. You’ve got a diagnosis for ADHD-C and a sneakier one for ASD.”
“Where’d you find that?” Ed snarled. Small, out of network clinics were good specifically to keep things off from records. He and the psychologist had their papers, and the government and his coworkers would be none the wiser.
That placating gesture again. “Easy. I’m not done. I’m __-_ somewhere with this, alright? Just hear me out.”
Ed shifted, still glaring.
“That last one __ mentioned you having GAD, motor issues, and _- speech problems. Is that everything? Have I covered my bases?”
Inhale . This was invasive as all get-out but he could be mad after whatever bargain’s been made.
Sensory issues weren’t on the list. Should he keep those to himself? Actually, “The heck is ‘GAD’?”
He didn’t need to look to know he was being surveyed again. “Did you not already know about that one?”
“What is it.” Ed repeated.
“General Anxiety Disorder.” Will said.
“Don’t have it.”
Airily prodding, “You’re diagnosed with it.”
Ed shook his head, looking firmly at the floor. “You wanted a complete list, right? So cross that one out.”
Unconvinced and unbothered, Will shrugged. “I ask because I noticed you have a stutter and can’t sit still. Are you restless because you’re upset or because you’re naturally hyper?”
“I don’t have a stutter.” He’d pronounced every goddamned word with good flow, screw off.
“Multiple mild ones. A slur, most notably.”
He was not going to fidget and he was not going to look away. Ed would stare directly into William’s soul if that’s what it took for his point to land.
“Too much?” Will asked.
He had a slur? A stutter? Well then, alleged half brother, guess he didn’t have to talk . Have fun with silence.
Will chuckled, and it was his turn to glance away. “Okay, I get it, you can knock it off now.”
Nope.
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have my reasons for asking, alright? Work with me here.”
Silence.
“If you’re going to be saying the wrong words or something then that’s good to know because I deal with private information and misunderstandings are good to watch out for .”
Yeah, you’re not getting out of this that easily.
“I know your medical information because ___- on a watch list, and I brought your diagnoses up because this __ of thing runs in the family. Grandma was an —_- and would throw a full-scale tantrum if someone so much as breathed near her collections. Our father’s a paranoid nutcase with no sense of social responsibility. The ADHD isn’t from them, but I’m familiar with more things than most. Case and point-” he gestured to the stacks. “You’ve made yourself a nice little hidey hole.”
Edward seethed. “It’s a nest.” he said lowly.
“And nest making is exactly the sort of thing some of my kids do. ”
Ed’s brows raised, half-clenched hands raising to his middle at the welcome surprise. “You’re a father?”
“Yeah. And a great, great, great grandfather.” Will said amusedly.
Okay. It’s a joke. Got it.
Or maybe a half joke.
Ed relented his glare and considered the paper bag, then shifted his gaze to a spot a little ways past Will.
“What about you?” Ed asked. “What’s your damage?” If he spoke slow, it would be clear; if he spoke slow, he wouldn’t sound ‘hyper’.
“Bipolar.” Will shrugged. “Just bipolar.”
“Controversial one,” Ed noted.
“Yeah, well, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been diagnosed with and the only label I find useful outside of ‘Sin’.”
Ed refocused his eyes, brow knitting and head tilting slightly.
“...What?” Will asked.
Slowly. “I’m just– y–” Will being bipolar would explain some things about their previous little get together. “How are you handling things?”
“How do I manage it?” Will clarified. “Outside of being adjusted and having worked on myself, like all people need to do in order to —_- any claim to adulthood, I have —_-__ a little cheat. See, this homunculus —_ himself a good, solid stone. Those little charms do an amazing good job of keeping your health as well as it can be. To put it in a grossly oversimplified yet fairly clear statement, if what I have is an illness then I’m on the world’s most universal treatment regimen.”
As if last time hadn’t happened.
‘Which brings us to what I can do for you.” Will was purring now, beyond pleased with himself. “If you are a homunculus…” he trailed, “then you can use stones. And, since you’re still sick with who knows what, you can be fixed up with just a little walk down to Ms. Douglas.”
Ed huffed, scratching the ground lightly.
“And what this cure-all is,” He was speaking as slow as molasses. There was probably blethering on some document about auditory processing nonesense. Either that, or this was some pompous reach for dramatics. “Is the philosopher’s stone.” Will finished.
“ What?” Was this some kind of bad joke?
Will smirked, pleased with himself. “I will set you up for one free stone, with which you can do whatever your heart desires.~ And, when you want more– which you will– We can talk business.”
This was nonsense, plain and simple.
“That is what you want, right? A fix-all for yourself and your ‘brother’?”
Ed’s jaw tightened.
William said something else in that sweet tone, standing. Ed swallowed and followed suit.