Success

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Branch

If the story ended in complete success for everyone... what then? Roy takes over the country and Ed helps, despite doubts and contention on both sides. Divergent Future.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"At A Cost" published on 2004-02-22 18:35:41.

"The Door" published on 2004-03-05 18:45:00.

"Fiat Roomate" published on 2004-03-21 18:54:03.

"In Silence" published on 2004-03-21 19:01:08.

"The Road" published on 2004-03-21 19:07:58.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "Poplars (Autumn)" by Claude Monet, public domain (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Claude_Monet_-_Poplars_%28Autumn%29_II.JPG).

Cover design by Branch.

At A Cost

Roy's choices, soon after the end. Drama, I-4.

"A price is something you get. A cost is something you lose." —Shards of Honor, Lois McMaster Bujold.

Roy nudged a piece of rubble with his toe.

"How is the clean-up coming on the buildings that were destroyed?" he asked.

"It's on schedule, Sir," Hawkeye reported. "The ones out in the city are almost finished; I left the ones inside Headquarters for last, as you said."

Roy weighed the value of disturbing his generals by leaving the military buildings in wreckage for a bit longer against the drawbacks of disturbing his men by doing so. With only a faint twinge of regret, he decided that the men were more important. After all, he didn't want any of them to start agreeing with the officers who were displeased by Roy's ascendance. And while he was thinking of common welfare...

"Have we located everyone who actually met the Homunculi?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Yes, Sir. A number of them had to be hospitalized, especially those who were present at the end."

"Not surprising," Roy murmured.

"No one still alive knows what they really were," his aide finished.

Roy ran a hand through his hair. "Well that's one concern out of the way."

Now to see if he could take care of another concern, he thought as they continued on toward their new offices.

Roy stood at the window with his back to the room. It didn't particularly help. He had worked with Fullmetal too long; he could see the boy's expressions in his mind's eye quite clearly, hear them in the flex of his voice.

"What do you mean, none of your business? Everything's your business now, isn't it?" Fullmetal added, more quietly but still loud enough to hear, "God help the world."

"Not this," Roy informed him coolly. "The State Alchemists are no longer associated with the military. I've given the Dean of Central University oversight. That," he flicked his fingers at the silver watch lying on his desk, "is not my concern. I'm not the person you need to return it to, if you want to be rid of it."

Fullmetal snorted. "Well, isn't that convenient. Speaking of getting rid of things."

Roy smoothed the twist out of his mouth before turning around. "Why should it concern you? You have no reason to stay here now, or worry who controls the State Alchemists. You have what you need." Roy looked pointedly at the arm and leg that he knew were no longer automail, though Fullmetal still wore his concealing gloves.

Fullmetal looked at him narrowly, puzzled. Roy should have known he wouldn't get the boy to leave without some kind of explanation. He sighed, plucked the watch off his desk, and tossed it back to Fullmetal.

"I did not spend this much effort freeing the State Alchemists from military control only to see it wasted. Turn that in or not, as you please. But you have no more business here. So take your brother and go." Roy turned back to his window. "You are no longer my dog, Edward Elric. Go."

He could almost hear Fullmetal's teeth grind at that epithet he had hated and spent so much time and energy circumventing. Roy had, after all, chosen it to make him angry.

"Whatever you say," Fullmetal growled. "Dai-Soutou." He bit off the title like an insult, and Roy heard him spin around and stride out the door. His steps never paused or hesitated, and one small thread of tension unwound itself from Roy's shoulders.

Two more safe.

Hughes found him that evening, still at his desk.

"Are they away?" Roy asked, knowing it wasn't beyond Fullmetal to decide to stay for sheer pique.

"Lock, stock, and baggage," Hughes confirmed. "It was a good idea to assign a car and driver to see them back to Riesenburg. Al is still a bit... edgy."

Roy sniffed, amused at his friend's talent for understatement. Alphonse Elric had spent the first month of his recovery constantly on the raw edge of breakdown. It was only recently he had stabilized enough to even consider traveling. Roy hesitated to imagine what a trip by train would have been like to his reawakened senses.

"As long as they're gone." Roy rubbed a hand over his eyes and leaned back.

"Roy, are you sure it was a good idea to send them away?" Hughes asked quietly.

Roy shook his head. "They had to go now, while the remaining confusion will keep anyone from asking questions. Enough of the State Alchemists have left, now that the direction of research the State will fund has changed, that it won't seem strange for them to leave too."

"I meant, is it a good idea to send them away at all?" Hughes' eyes on him were sharp.

In front of this man Roy let himself slump, let himself scrub his hands over his face, let his impatience and anger show.

"Hughes, you can't possibly be suggesting that I keep them here! Ed has no reason to do as I say now that his brother is restored, and I'm going to have enough on my conscience without continuing to use a child as my tool."

"What if you told him what the point was?"

Roy dropped his hands with a thump and glared. "Impossible," he stated flatly. "Edward is brilliant, but politically naive and far too hot tempered."

Hughes' mouth quirked. "Ah, you're afraid you couldn't control him, is that it?"

Roy's hand came down on his desk with a crack like a gunshot. He barely managed to close his teeth on the stream of abuse that rose to his lips. Needing to do something, before he truly lost control, he shoved away from his desk and paced a few furious turns through the room before managing to stop himself. He heard Hughes sigh at his back, and felt his friend's hands close over his shoulders.

"This is why I asked, Roy. You're wearing yourself too thin; you need someone to help you hold all this together."

"What," Roy asked, turning his head slightly, "are you saying you aren't going to be here?"

Hughes gave him a brisk shake. "Stop that. I'll always support you, and you know it. And your people will follow you to Hell as many times as you choose to go there. But is there anyone else who can do what he did? Ed the Amazing, Traveling Trouble Magnet, Problems Solved at No Extra Charge?"

Roy leaned on his desk and laughed himself breathless. He must be overtired, it hadn't been that funny. His coat appeared in front of him and he blinked at it.

"Put on your coat, Roy, it's time to leave," Hughes told him in the same tone of voice he used when convincing his daughter to eat her lima beans, a process Roy had witnessed several times.

"Don't be ridiculous," Roy sighed, "I still have a ton of work to do..."

He trailed off as Hughes started stuffing his arms into the sleeves willy-nilly. For several crucial moments Roy was too surprised to resist.

"Hawkeye says you've done more work today than you really need to, and Gracia gave me orders to bring you home for dinner," Hughes declared as Roy gathered himself to protest. "Are you going to argue with both of them?"

Roy thought about that for a minute, considered how tired he was, and meekly followed Hughes out the door.

"You're right," he said as they emerged into the cool night air, "no one else can do quite what Ed did. But why would he? What drove him is done now. Our exchange is over."

Hughes shot him a sidelong look before gazing up at the sky. "If you asked him, I think he would do it. Especially if you said why."

"And take him away from his brother? Now?" Roy asked, softly.

Hughes was silent.

Did a person have to be dead before you could have her beatified? Roy couldn't remember. He would have to find out, because he was seriously considering nominating Gracia for sainthood. She had kept Elysia from decorating Roy with her dinner, and was the only person who made coffee better than Roy himself. That was two miracles right there, and the coffee was a miracle of healing, he was sure. Could that be counted twice?

Roy cradled his coffee cup in his hands and inhaled deeply.

"Roy? Are you all right? You look like you haven't been sleeping."

She had even let him savor the first cup before beginning her inquisition, which was the most mercy anyone had shown him in months. Definite saint material. Saint Gracia, patron of... really stupid men who thought they could save the world. Pray for us.

"Roy?"

He started slightly as she touched his wrist, and dredged up a smile for her.

"I'm sorry, Gracia, my mind was wandering. Transported by the quality of your coffee." He saluted her with the cup, and she laughed.

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Except out of the question. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

She speared him with a stern look and Roy sighed. He could, he supposed, try to weasel out of it, but Gracia often knew when he was lying. He was sure the skill would come in very handy when her daughter started dating. What had she asked? Ah, yes.

"Not much," he admitted."It will be better after a while, but there just hasn't been time to get everything done. Most of the generals still hate my guts, but even Hughes can't find reasons to discharge many of them. The population of the city is still shaken up, and I don't have enough people who can keep order without causing the mobs they're trying to prevent. Rumors are running through the backcountry twice as fast as official news, and God only knows where that will end..." Roy stopped himself with an effort.

Gracia looked a question at her husband, who nodded.

"My own area is bad enough, since His Excellency here," he waved at Roy, who glowered back, "made me head of the entire Intelligence branch. But some of the generals are recovering from their shock and starting to get creative."

"Still," Gracia admonished, "you won't do anyone any good if you drive yourself to collapse."

Roy stifled the laugh that he knew he wouldn't be able to stop if it started. "What makes you think I'll do any good anyway?" he asked his coffee cup.

"Roy..." Gracia said softly, frowning.

Hughes, who had heard him say this more than once in the last week, only tightened his mouth.

Gracia slipped off the couch so that she could sit on her heels in front of Roy and make him look at her. "Do you remember when you got stuck over the seasonal codes of the Twelve Gates?" she asked.

Roy felt a small grin tug at his mouth. That had been the first year he had known Gracia, the first year he had lived in Central City, studying toward the State Exams.

"You told me to get out of the library for a look at the actual Spring. I recall," he added, "that you smacked me with a lexicon when I protested."

Gracia smiled, and took his face in her hands. "And do you remember when you were panicking, a week before the Exams?"

Roy closed his eyes. "You told me you believed I could do it. And that you would be there with me to make sure I did."

"I still believe in you, Roy. And I'm still here with you; we all are."

"Thank you," Roy whispered, lifting a hand to cover one of hers.

"You need to sleep," she told him gently. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

If he did, Roy knew she would make sure he slept. And while he didn't doubt Gracia's wisdom for a moment, there were still things he had to do. "No, I think I'll sleep better if it's in my own bed."

He opened his eyes to see Gracia and Hughes exchanging on of those silent spousal communiques that sometimes made him briefly envious.

"All right," Gracia agreed. "Maas will take you home."

Roy thought he really must be slipping, because he didn't suspect a thing until Hughes joined him at the door with an overnight bag in hand. He looked at Gracia, who kissed her husband good night and smiled sweetly at Roy. Remembering the lexicon, Roy closed his mouth on a protest.

"You should drink something besides coffee," Hughes told him, watching Roy wander aimlessly around his kitchen, trying to find the coffee grinder. He was sure it had been in the cabinet by the stove. Things never held still when you needed them to. Not people, not science, not coffee grinders.

"I need coffee to stay awake," Roy pointed out very reasonably, opening the icebox. No, not there either.

Hughes caught him as he went by. "Roy, you need to stop."

Roy looked up at his friend seriously. "I can't stop. If I stop, I'll fall."

"If you fall we'll catch you," Maas said, voice low and soothing.

Roy could only shake his head. He couldn't betray them all by falling. By failing. Maas sighed and pulled Roy against him.

"Stop now," he ordered quietly.

Roy rested his head on Maas shoulder. Maybe that would stop the spinning. "Maas..."

"Hush. It's all right, Roy."

Roy felt Maas' hand settle lightly on his hair, and let his eyes fall shut for a moment.

Roy woke up warmer than usual. He felt rested for the first time in months. Someone's arms were around him. He lay, contemplating these bits of information, in that borderland between sleep and true wakefulness. The arms tightened a bit. Who...?

Oh, yes.

Roy had only dim impressions of Maas supporting him up the stairs, but he did remember being amused that Maas remembered Roy liked to sleep on the inside.

Still drifting, Roy moved closer to Maas, who obligingly shifted to transfer Roy from the pillow to his shoulder. That was better.

He'd felt better the last time he'd woken up like this, too, Roy mused sleepily. After that worst night in Ishvar. Maas had held him until he slept and been there when he woke up. And Roy had felt a little cleaner for his presence, as he felt a little calmer now. Roy lay, listening to his friend's heartbeat, until the brightness on the other side of his eyelids finally registered.

"What time is it?" Roy muttered.

"Almost noon."

Having half expected it, Roy did not sit bolt upright at this piece of intelligence. Instead he pried an eye open and directed a faintly accusatory look up at Maas.

"You needed the sleep, and Hawkeye can handle things fine until you get there," Mass told him. "Possibly better, she's a lot more direct than you."

While the vision of his second calmly backing some obnoxious officer out the door at gunpoint had a certain appeal, Roy was awake enough to remember how long his To Do list still was. He sighed, stretched, and hauled himself out of bed. He squinted back at Maas as his friend followed suit.

"So, can I have more coffee now?" Roy asked.

Maas snorted. "You think I've lost my mind enough to try and keep you away from it in the morning? Think again. Does this mean I can have the shower first?"

"You think I've lost my mind enough to let you make the coffee?" Roy shot back. "Towels are in the hall closet."

"I'll see if I can find you some troubleshooters for the field," Hughes said as they entered Headquarters.

Roy nodded, remembering their discussion yesterday about what Fullmetal had been able to do.

"That would be helpful."

They were almost at his office before he touched Hughes' shoulder and spoke quietly.

"Thank you."

Hughes looked at him steadily for a silent moment.

"You're not doing this alone, Roy. Remember that." And then he winked and swept a deep bow. "It's my duty and pleasure, Your Excellency, Sir."

Roy growled and snapped a tongue of flame alight. Hughes fled in mock-terror, laughing all the way, and Roy was smiling as he opened his office door.

End

The Door

Ed's choices, two years later. Drama, I-3.

Ed sat at the kitchen table with his chin in his hands, looking fixedly at the open watch in front of him. He was supposed to leave for Central City tomorrow. Al and Winry were coming to the station with him to see him off. And Ed wasn't even sure he was going. He didn't used to be this indecisive, he brooded. He didn't even realize Al had entered the room until he heard the door close.

"Nii-san?"

"Am I really doing the right thing, Al?" Ed asked softly.

"Do you think you're not?" Al asked back. Ed eyed him. Al had always been subtle, far more so than Ed himself, and this was not up to his usual standards of misdirection. Al just smiled. Maybe he was going easy on Ed because Ed was already having a hard time.

"I don't want to leave," he said, looking back at the watch.

"Yes you do."

Ed blinked up at his brother, who came and put an arm around his shoulders. Ed leaned his head against Al's chest with a faint smile. Al knew how much it comforted him to listen to his brother's living heartbeat.

"If you stayed here all the time," Al continued, "you'd explode from your own fidgetiness."

"Fidgetiness?" Ed objected.

"Give it another couple of weeks, Nii-san, and you'll be bouncing off the walls here and Winry will be throwing wrenches at you again. What you mean," Al concluded, "is that you don't want to lose us."

Ed flinched.

"Nii-san, you're not our father," Al murmured.

"But what if I am?" Ed slumped. "I mean, what if this was how it started with him, too? A few trips to the city to pick up something for Mom, and then some trips further away to find some interesting books or talk to scholars, and then he got into something bigger than he could understand, and the next thing you know he's creating monsters and destroying cities and not giving a damn about his family."

Al rapped him gently on the head with his knuckles. "Don't be an idiot."

"Hey," Ed mumbled.

"Is this bigger than you can understand?" Al asked, curiously.

Ed thought about that.

"It used to be," he said slowly. "I never thought the reasons why stupid people were left in charge was something I needed to know. It couldn't help us, so I didn't pay attention. Now," he paused, "now I understand the basics. I see that he's trying to put civilian government in place of military. And I'm pretty sure he plans to go all the way."

"You think he means to bring back the Parliament?" Al sounded surprised. Ed didn't blame him. Their grandparents hadn't been born when there was last a civilian government.

"I think so. Don't ask me how, but I think so." Ed laughed shortly. "I guess if anyone could do it, it would be him."

"Do you trust him?"

Now there was a multi-sided question. Al was good at those. Ed was silent for a good twenty heartbeats before answering.

"I trust his intentions. I trust his means... to work. I don't trust him to tell me the truth, because he'll lie through his teeth if he thinks he needs to. But I trust him to have a reason for doing it."

"Do you trust his integrity?"

"I trust that there's a line he won't go beyond. I don't know where it is." Ed contemplated his answer and sighed. "Am I doing the right thing?"

Al's arm tightened around him. "I can't think of anyone better to be doing it. We'll miss you, but you're not a home-maker, Nii-san. As long as you come home to visit... and to rest... it'll be all right."

Ed listened to another handful of heartbeats before he nodded and straightened.

"All right, then." He pressed his hands together and laid his fingers on the watch-case.

Ed stood looking, with some trepidation, at the perfectly normal red-painted door in front of him. If he really wanted to do this, he had to start with this door.

Did he really want to do this?

Ed fingered the weight in his pocket and straightened his shoulders. This was no time to have an attack of nerves. He had made his decision already and wasn't going to back down. He gathered himself and knocked on the door.

A light tread sounded and the door opened to reveal a slender woman with short hair the color of brown sugar and a gentle smile.

"Why, Ed-kun, what a surprise! Come in, come in."

"Thank you, Gracia-san." Ed stepped inside, looking around cautiously for small children.

"Elysia just went in for a nap," Gracia-san said without turning around.

It really was true that mothers had supernatural powers, Ed reflected.

"Now, let me have a look at you," she continued, taking Ed by the shoulders. "You've grown up so much in just two years!"

Ed stifled a sigh, having resigned himself to hearing this observation. Not that he wasn't extremely pleased to have made it to five foot six inches, because he was. And it could have been a lot worse; you're still so small, for example. But, still...

"I think your hair is almost twice as long as it was! And you don't look nearly as lost in that jacket as you did in your old coat."

Ed blinked. Well, that was a new sort of growing-up measurement. Better than the inch counting everyone else did...

"And you must have grown three or four inches!"

This time the sigh escaped, and Gracia-san laughed. "I'm sorry, Ed-kun, you must be tired of hearing that."

"A little," Ed admitted, ruefully. "Gracia-san, is Hughes-taisho home?"

"Of course, he'll be very pleased to see you again. Come along." She led the way to her living room.

"Ed! You should have written and said if you were going to be visiting Central!" Hughes exclaimed, rising from the couch to seize Ed's hand. "And you've really..." he broke off as his wife laid a finger over his lips. He looked at her in confusion, and she giggled and shook her head. Enlightenment dawned with a grin and a tolerant look at Ed.

Hughes hadn't changed much at all, that Ed could see. Perhaps a few more lines around his eyes. His eyes themselves, though, were as sharp as ever as he waved Ed to the couch across from him.

"So, does business or pleasure bring you today?" he asked as Gracia-san left them.

"Business, I suppose. I need to ask a favor."

Hughes raised a brow.

"I need to see him."

"Ah. I expect Hawkeye would let you in, but it never hurts to have some extra weight when you want him to stand still long enough to talk," Hughes allowed. "Any particular reason, or just a visit for old time's sake?"

Clearly he didn't believe the second possibility for one moment.

Ed looked down. "I need to give him my watch back."

"You didn't before you left?" Hughes asked mildly, not sounding surprised.

"It wasn't ended yet. Now... now I think it is. A real end." Ed looked up to gauge Hughes' response.

Hughes nodded slowly. "I'll take you in to see him."

Yes, Ed thought Hughes understood. Not surprising, considering his closest friend was also an alchemist. Hughes had probably picked up quite a bit of the symbolic language.

The only real ending was a new beginning.

Another day, another door. This one was more intimidating than the last one, because Ed knew for a fact that one of the most cuttingly sarcastic bastards he'd ever met was on the other side. And Ed was about to make a huge target of himself.

Deep breath. Ignore Hughes nearly snickering behind him. Ignore Hawkeye doing the same in her own deadpan way.

His knock was immediately answered with a brisk "Enter."

Ed was covertly relieved that Hughes followed him in. The office was spacious and bright with sun from the long windows. Roy Mustang sat behind his desk, hands folded loosely under his chin, and didn't say a word.

Not the best possible start.

Ed nerved himself and went straight to the desk, ignoring the chairs Hughes was busy dragging up. He pulled his silver watch out of his pocket and laid it down gently.

"Dai-Soutou. I need to return this to you." He stepped back.

Mustang sat unmoving, regarding the watch. "I recall mentioning that I'm not the one to return this to," he commented at last.

Deep breath.

"Yes, you are."

Mustang tilted a brow.

"I took this from your hand," Ed told him firmly. "You are the one I need to give it back to."

"Very well," Mustang agreed after another long pause. He picked up the watch, paused, flipped the case open, and smiled.

Ed refrained from growling, wondering whether the man actually knew about what used to be written in the case or was just checking on general principles. Never mind. Now was the time to sit down.

"So," Ed said, once he was comfortable, "I am no longer, even technically, a State Alchemist, I'm just plain, civilian Edward Elric, right? No connection to the military or the state, not under anyone's command."

Mustang looked at him a bit oddly at this recitation of the obvious. "Correct," he agreed.

"Then tell me what you need me to do," Ed finished.

Silence.

"I beg your pardon?" Mustang asked, looking bemused.

"Has this job softened your head?" Ed snapped. "I'm saying I'll work for you. What do you need?"

For once, Roy Mustang appeared to be at a loss.

"Not to discourage you, Ed," Hughes put in, "but why?"

Ed looked out one of the windows.

"I've been traveling again, these last eight or nine months," he said quietly. "I've watched what's happening. Seen what you're doing. The garrisons recalled, the soldiers retired. But only lower officers discharged, mostly." He looked back at Mustang. "You're keeping most of the ones who would make trouble for people where you can see them."

Mustang's eyes widened just a touch.

"What?" Ed glared. "You thought I could work for you for over four years and not pick up any of this?"

The eyes flickered. This time Ed growled.

"Should I have expected it?" Mustang asked, coolly. "From someone with your temper and lack of patience? Should I have expected any kind of mature observations?" Ed bared his teeth.

"As much as I should have expected altruism from you," he cut back.

"By your own admission then, not at all."

Ed flung himself out of the chair and stalked to the window before he tried to wipe that smirk off Mustang's face.

"All right, I think that's enough," Hughes said wearily. "Stop trying to send him away again, Roy, you need him."

Ed blinked. Send him away? Again? Again? He frowned, thinking back on his last conversation with Mustang. His eyes narrowed and he turned back to look at them.

"Taisho," Mustang said, cold, warning.

"Roy," Hughes returned, soft, urgent, "you know it's true."

Mustang set his mouth.

"It's not like you can say he's too young now," Hughes added.

"Really?" Mustang drawled. Hughes gave him a look.

"How old were you when you tied yourself to the military? Nineteen, wasn't it?"

"That was different," Mustang snapped.

"Yes, it was, because you were a lot more naive than Ed was, even two years ago."

It was Mustang's turn to growl.

"Roy, haven't you been over this already?" Hughes ran a hand through his hair. "If you hadn't picked him up someone else would have. And the fact that you benefited from his search has nothing to do with how much pain it caused him. He would have died along the way without your support."

Ed was very still. They seemed to have forgotten that he was in the room.

"That doesn't make the pain any less either, Hughes," Mustang replied in a low voice. "How can I keep using his ethics, his vision, in ways he doesn't understand?"

"So tell me," Ed said.

Both men jerked at his voice, as if they really had forgotten his presence.

"I was willing to keep doing this blind if it was necessary," Ed told Mustang, catching his eyes, "because I've seen the overall reason. But if it isn't, then tell me. Tell me why, when you send me somewhere or want me to watch someone."

Mustang looked at him for a long moment. "What reason do you have for doing this?" he asked at last. "Can you care this much for the well being of people you've never met?"

Ed snorted. "I've met more of them than you, I'll bet." He paused to think, though. How to put it? "It isn't people," he said slowly, "or the nation. It's the people I have met. All of them." He slanted a look at Mustang. "Just because I'm not a State Alchemist doesn't mean I'm not an alchemist any more," he said, obliquely.

"Quite the reverse," Mustang agreed softly.

It hung in the air between them. An alchemist works for the common good.

A sudden thought struck Ed, and he smiled wickedly and came to lean on the back of his chair.

"After all," he said, "you wouldn't want me just running around loose and doing this on my own without your support would you?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed again, but Ed spotted the corner of his mouth curling up for a moment.

"Indeed," Mustang agreed, voice silky. "It would be negligent to allow such a thing. So, Elric-kun, what job title did you have in mind?"

"Eh?"

"Did you want to enter the military itself? Or did you have a civilian post in mind? Or is it up to me to invent one?"

Ed quailed to think what Mustang might come up with at this point. Something about the man's phrasing was nudging at his mind, though. Something that seemed significant in light of the things Hughes had revealed. Title. He likes having titles to call people by, Ed mused. It's the way he likes to see the world. So he can keep it from coming too close?

Interesting thought. And it sparked another interesting thought. Ed grinned.

"Well, I was kind of thinking about Investigative Inspector of General Inquiries," he said innocently.

A snort of laughter came from Hughes, not terribly muffled by the hand over his mouth. Mustang paused to direct a dire we-will-discuss-this-later look at him. Hughes eeped theatrically and edged back.

"Why don't we stay with Investigator on the official paperwork, Elric-kun?" Mustang suggested evenly.

"Whatever you say," Ed agreed. "Sir."

His commander's eyes glinted, promising retribution at some later date when Ed thought he was safe.

And that was just the way it should be.

End

Fiat Roomate

Ed has to deal with a housemate. Drama, I-3.

Ed found out later that it had been his habit of retreating to a library whenever he needed distraction that started the whole thing. After the third time Hughes found him asleep on a pile of books, rather than the bed in his room at headquarters, he mentioned it to Gracia-san, and Gracia-san spoke to Mustang, and Mustang decided to take steps, and Hughes had thought he'd known just the person to help...

The first Ed knew of this, though, was when he returned to his room to find Captain Maria Ross directing a small horde of soldiers in packing up Ed's belongings.

"Ah, Edward-san, good timing," Ross smiled. "I can take care of the packing and moving, but I thought you'd like to unpack your things yourself."

"Moving?" Ed asked, faintly. "What moving?" Ross blinked.

"To the house, Edward-san. Didn't you know it would be today? My own things are already moved," she continued with a tolerant look, "but I made sure to leave plenty of room for you."

Ed turned this incomprehensible scene over in his mind a few times. It appeared he was in the process of being moved out of headquarters and into a house somewhere. With Maria Ross. If it weren't Ross standing here, he might think it was a practical joke and go pin Havoc to the wall until he admitted it had been Hughes' idea. But Ross was even more straightlaced than Hawkeye, and he didn't believe she would be party to anything improper. Or anything she thought might harm him. And Ross could be as insanely protective as Hawkeye got over...

Oh, he wouldn't have.

Yes, he would, Ed reminded himself, that man would damn well do anything he thought was necessary. The real question was why he might have thought this necessary.

A practical joke was suddenly not entirely ruled out.

"Excuse me, Ross-taii," Ed said brightly, "I need to go check on something. I'll catch right up with you."

Two buildings later Ed kicked open the door of the Fuehrer's office, not particularly caring if it started out locked. He did note in passing that it hadn't been, which probably meant he was expected. Indeed, Mustang didn't even twitch at the bang as the door opened.

"Good afternoon, Elric-kun," he said dryly.

"What the hell is this all about?" Ed asked without preamble.

Mustang raised a brow. He was wearing that infuriating little half-smile that said he had put one over somewhere, and no one would know where until far too late. Ed ground his teeth and dug mental fingernails into his composure. Fortunately, Mustang didn't pretend ignorance of what Ed was talking about.

"Why, Elric-kun, I would have thought more living space would appeal to you. You've been keeping up with your field, after all. Won't it be useful to have room for your books and notes when you're in the city?"

This beguiling thought distracted Ed for several seconds, before he recalled himself to the matter at hand. "The house part isn't the problem. The babysitter is the problem," he said, flatly.

"More than one observer has noted that you don't take sufficient care of yourself when you live alone," Mustang returned. There was even less give in his tone than in Ed's, and it rocked Ed back a bit. This wasn't a joke, then, his commander was serious. Ed paused a moment, weighing whether it would be worth the effort to fight on this one. Mustang's eyes narrowed lazily, and his smile widened a notch. Familiar with the danger signs, Ed braced himself.

"So, you can either share a house with Ross-taii, you can stay with Hughes and Gracia, in which case you will undoubtedly be the babysitter, or you can use the guest room in my house. Your choice, Elric-kun."

It took Ed several tries to re-hinge his jaw. He barely managed to bite back the words You're joking, because that would not be a wise thing to say right now. Mustang seemed to hear it anyway.

"You think I'm bluffing?" he asked, lightly.

"No," Ed gritted out, spun on his heel and stalked out. He had known right from the start, he reminded himself strenuously, that Roy Mustang fought dirty. Strangling the man for it now would be pointless. Besides, he'd be damned if he'd give Mustang the satisfaction.

It could be a lot worse, he tried to convince himself. Ross shouldn't be that difficult to live with.

A week later he was back in the Fuehrer's' office.

"Are you sure there's nowhere you need to send me?" Ed refused to actually beg for an assignment, but he was getting close.

"Nowhere urgent enough to call you away from settling into your new house," Mustang told him, watching Ed over folded hands. Ed bared his teeth. Time to get down to cases, then.

"If you don't get me out of this city," he growled, "I swear I'm going to kill that woman before the weekend gets here."

Mustang looked politely inquiring. Ed couldn't contain himself any longer, and started pacing.

"All right. I can deal with her fixation on healthy food, Sensei was the same way. It's probably a female thing." Ed paused to glance suspiciously at Mustang. He could have sworn the man who terrorized hard-bitten generals every day and twice on Sundays had just squeaked.

"Do continue," Mustang invited, blandly.

"I can deal with the food thing, and it's only reasonable that we divide the housework, and I can live with the color-coded chart on the wall. Even if the colors are completely unintuitive. Ross-taii has obviously been in the military too long, and the military has a thing for cross-wired symbolism."

"Does it?" Mustang murmured. Ed rounded on him.

"But when she starts in on my clothing, that's where I draw the line! It's none of her interfering business how long it's been since I last went shopping! What gives her the right..." Ed cut himself off before he said more than he should, and stood, breathing a bit hard. Mustang regarded him calmly. Possibly a little too calmly.

"If you've drawn the line, then where's the problem?"

Horribly torn between the urge to ask whether he could still choose to take Mustang's guest room, and the urge to transmute the man's desk into a manure pile (he'd have enough nitrates if he used Mustang, himself, too), Ed stomped out. It was the only thing he could do, and keep his dignity.

Detente was reached almost by default. When Ed was agitated he resorted to his books, and that was the one place Ross never disturbed him. Left his meals inside the door, complete with small notes reminding him when it was his turn to do the dishes, yes, but she did so quietly.

Two weeks of lying low appeared to convince his sadistic commander that Ed was resigned to his housemate, and Mustang finally asked Ed to to go see why the mayor's office in Allege seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. Ed refrained from bouncing or whistling until he was out the front doors, just in case he jinxed his freedom.

He was, however, humming when Ross found him folding clothes into his suitcase.

"It sounds like you're looking forward to your work, Edward-san." Ed looked over his shoulder to see her leaning in the door of his room.

"I am," he replied, and bit his tongue on the extra reasons he had to be pleased with his job this trip. She sighed.

"I had hoped you and your brother would be able to have quieter lives, after everything was over," she said softly.

"Al does," Ed pointed out. Ross hesitated before she spoke again.

"Were you really not happy with that life?"

Ed was silent for a long moment, gazing into his half full suitcase. On the one hand, it was none of Ross' business and he rather wanted to tell her so. On the other, maybe if she understood she would stop hovering quite so much. Expedience won over privacy, in the end.

"I love my brother," he told her evenly, "and being with him without having to worry about... everything was wonderful. But I need something to do with my life." He turned to look at Ross seriously. "I missed a lot of being a kid because we had things to do. It would have been nice to let someone else worry about how to make life work out, but it's too late to go back and live like that now."

"That doesn't mean you have to take on more than your share of life's trouble just because it's what you're used to," Ross maintained stoutly.

"It isn't like that," Ed insisted. And then looked aside. "It isn't just that I'm used to it." He mulled over how to put it so that this practical, steady woman would understand.

"It's like alchemy itself," he said at last. "Knowing that something changed because of your action, that you have the skill and ability to alter the world... it's... it's not something I can just leave."

"And alchemy itself wasn't enough?" Ross asked. Ed thought about that. What if he had just returned as a State Alchemist, and never volunteered for Mustang's political crusade? The thought rang hollow.

"They aren't separate, for me," he finally answered. For one thing, he reflected, he would never use half as much of his alchemical knowledge tucked away in a study somewhere. Ross' laughter startled him a bit.

"No wonder you came back to Dai-Soutou Mustang," she shook her head. "You think alike." And then she laughed some more, probably at Ed's expression. "Well, what I came for was to ask whether this would be helpful while you're traveling." She held out a small, fat, green notebook.

Taking it, the sleek feel of the leather told Ed it was waterproofed. When he opened it, only about half the volume turned out to be taken up by loose-leaf paper. The rest was pockets. Pockets that unfolded, pockets that snapped, pockets inside of pockets; he spent several minutes just hunting them all out, and wasn't entirely sure he had found every one. He blinked at Ross, who blushed faintly.

"You seem to make notes on any paper at hand, including matchbooks. I saw this while I was getting my bootheel repaired earlier this week, and thought it might be useful for you."

Ed turned the notebook over in his hands. She had noticed that about him, and considered what it meant when he didn't have two or three rooms worth of books and desks to tuck his notes into. And she had come up with a solution for him.

"Ross... taii... You didn't... I..." Ed took a deep breath. "Thank you. Maria-san. This will help."

"Good," she smiled at him. "Don't forget to eat well while you're busy." Ed gave her a long-suffering look. She sounded just like Winry used to, lecturing him about taking care of the automail.

"I won't, Maria-san. You don't have to worry so much."

She didn't dignify that with a response, just patted his shoulder and left him to his packing.

He would not, Ed promised himself as he stowed away another shirt, ever admit to Mustang that this had been a decent idea after all.

End

In Silence

Hughes is called on to intervene in a fight between Roy and Ed. Drama, I-4.

Maas Hughes paced down the corridors of Central City headquarters grumbling to himself.

Maria Ross had come to him with a message from Hawkeye that Edward-kun and His Excellency were arguing, and could General Hughes please come calm them down before the idiots destroyed anything? Ross clearly wasn't comfortable calling her supreme commander an idiot, but her verbatim delivery made it equally clear that she agreed with the assessment.

Maas had always known she was an intelligent woman.

He had sent her back with assurances that he was on his way, and taken the time to arm himself appropriately before heading upstairs. He seemed to be in time; there were raised voices, but no crashes or explosions. Judging by the attitudes of Roy's staff, though, he probably shouldn't dawdle. Havoc was as far from the door as he could get, chewing on the end of his cigarette rather than smoking it. Hawkeye was giving the door a tight-lipped look and drumming her fingers on her desk.

"So, what got them going like this?" Maas asked. Hawkeye didn't take her eyes off the door, but Havoc cast him a look of relief that brightened further when he noted Maas' armament.

"Oh, good thinking, sir! Er, it isn't yours is it?"

"Of course not. This," Maas wiggled the carafe in his left hand, "is Gracia's special blend, which she presciently gave me a stash of in case I ever really needed to get Roy's attention at work. My wife is brilliant. Now," he repeated, "what got them going?"

"I think it was Edward-kun's report on the organization of the State Alchemists," Hawkeye supplied.

"Wonderful," Maas sighed. Something they both had a stake in and knowledge about. No wonder.

"Are you ready, sir?" Hawkeye asked, laying a hand on the doorknob.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Maas shrugged. Roy was going to owe him vacation time for this. He breezed through the door into Roy's office, as insouciantly as though he wasn't stepping into the next best thing to a free-fire zone.

Neither Roy nor Ed noticed. They were too busy leaning over their respective sides of Roy's desk until they were nose to nose, arguing at the top of their lungs.

"Millay has the morals of a thief, and you want to give him the keys to the damn bank!" Ed yelled. "I can't believe you're thinking of putting him in charge!"

"You said yourself they won't accept anyone who isn't an alchemist!" Roy shouted back. "Who the hell else is there?"

Maas' brows lifted. Ed was more coherent and Roy more vehement than either usually got, even in a fight. This really was serious. Time to get their attention, before things ran any further downhill.

"Coffee break, gentlemen?" he suggested, setting down his carafe and three mugs on the desk with a thunk.

They both started.

"Any particular reason the two of you decided to alarm all the staff officers in the building today?" Maas continued, pouring. Ed blinked. Roy inhaled and set his jaw.

"We are having," he said through his teeth, "a difference of opinion on who should oversee the State Alchemists."

"I'd never have guessed if you hadn't told me," Maas murmured. Both combatants glanced at the clearly-too-thin door and refrained from saying anything. It was a start. Ed flung himself away from the desk and stalked a few paces off. Even better.

"What did you send me for if you never planned to listen to me?" he snarled. Roy's eyes glinted, and Maas stifled a wince. Then again, not so good.

"If you find it so distasteful to work for me, Elric-kun, the door is right behind you," Roy purred.

Ed's chin came up, mouth and shoulders both tightening. A spark lit his eye, in turn.

"You two bring out the worst in each other," Maas groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Can you possibly keep from kicking each other in the insecurities for five minutes at a time? I already have a small child, you know, I don't really need two more." He took his mug and slumped onto the couch.

"What?" Roy snapped at him. Maas glared right back. Vacation time and a raise, he vowed to himself.

"You," he pointed a finger at Roy, "stop trying to test Ed's loyalty to destruction. A self-fulfilling prophecy won't help anyone. And you," the finger swung around to spear Ed, "quit trying to get a rise out of Roy just to prove you can. It's counterproductive."

Roy and Ed glanced at each other, and then away at opposite corners of the room. Maas cast his eyes up. God save him from stubborn idiots; and he'd thought just one was bad. Further distraction was clearly in order.

"Save the revenge for after work, Ed," Maas advised. "It's much more fun when he's a bit tipsy, anyway." A faint choke emerged from Ed, though he didn't look back around. Roy, on the other hand, bared his teeth at Maas in something that was decidedly not a smile. Well, at least they weren't at each other's throats any more. And Roy had never toasted him yet, Maas reflected philosophically. He met his friend's eyes seriously, and tilted his head in Ed's direction, raising a brow. Roy's gaze flickered. Maas gave him a narrow look. Yes, in fact, Roy should be able to keep his temper better than Ed, after fourteen more years practice even if his fuse wasn't actually any longer than Ed's by nature, he thought at Roy as loudly as possible, exasperated. Judging by the slightly shamefaced look that flitted over Roy's face, Maas' expression must have conveyed the thought pretty well.

Roy heaved a silent sigh, picked up both remaining mugs, walked over to Ed and offered him one.

Maas saw Ed freeze as he registered whose hand was holding out the mug, and when he looked up, for one second, those sharp, gold eyes were wide and unguarded. Faint contrition softened Roy's face in answer to that flash of uncertainty. After a moment Ed took the mug, and bowed his head over it. They stood for another moment, while Roy regarded the bent head, before he touched Ed's shoulder, lightly. Maas wasn't sure Roy had seen Ed biting his lip, but he was sure that his friend noticed Ed let his breath out at that touch.

Maas shook his head. When these two wanted to insult each other you could hear them in the next city, but apology and reconciliation? Those were silent.

They came back to the desk in still-unspoken accord, and took chairs this time. Maas let out a relieved breath of his own. Destruction and mayhem appeared to have been averted.

"Is there anyone else who could do this job?" Roy asked Ed, evenly. Ed consulted the depths of his coffee, which seemed perfectly reasonable to Maas. He had no doubt Gracia's coffee could aid memory and tell the future; it was Gracia's, after all.

"There's no one else with his breadth of knowledge," Ed answered, slowly, "but I think Sitten would be less likely to deliberately overlook dangerous paths of research."

"Leaving only the question of whether he has the acumen to recognize them." Roy sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Maas noted that Ed was chewing on his lip again, as if he very much wanted to say something more but was wary of starting another argument. Maas, for one, wasn't surprised by that restraint in the least, though he was getting the impression that Roy might be.

"All right," Roy said at last, "ask Hawkeye-shousa to get Sitten's file for me, if you please."

When the door closed behind Ed, Roy took a long drink of coffee and slanted a look at Maas. "Thank Gracia for me," he said. Maas chuckled.

"You know, Ed has always snapped at you," he prodded after a few seconds. "And winding him up has always been a hobby of yours. But you used to grin about it. What's different now?" He waited while Roy examined the grain of his desk. Maas was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wasn't the one who needed to know it.

"It used to be a way to distract him, make him think about something besides his obsession," Roy answered at last. "Now..." Roy leaned back with a sigh. "Why is he here, Maas? Why does he stay, when his family, the family he did everything for, is so far away?"

"Why does Hawkeye stay, despite the fact she doesn't like fighting and killing?" Maas asked back. "Why does Havoc stay, when following you drags him into all kinds of insane danger?"

"That's different." Roy waved a dismissive hand. "They chose to follow me for personal loyalty."

Maas let his head thump back against the couch. "Roy, for such a superb manipulator, you have the strangest blind spots," he declared, wearily. After an extended silence he turned his head to see Roy staring open-mouthed.

"Are you trying to tell me," his friend managed at last, "that Edward Elric is... is..."

"Loyal to you, personally?" Maas filled in. "Yes, you idiot, that's exactly what I'm saying! You spent four years being the closest thing he had to family, besides the Rockbells, who he rarely saw, and Al, who he always felt guilty over. You took an orphan into your care, and offered him a future, and threw him in the way of anything that might make him strong enough to achieve it, and sheltered him when you could. What did you expect?"

Roy looked absolutely stunned.

"The only thing more irritating than watching you wind someone around your finger on purpose," Maas concluded, in disgust, "is watching you do it on accident."

Hawkeye tapped on the door. "The file you wanted, sir."

Faced with paperwork, Roy managed to pull himself together.

Maas collected mugs and carafe, and prepared to withdraw before Roy decided to put more work on his plate while Maas was handy.

"Hughes," Roy's voice caught him at the door.

"Yes?"

"Why do you stay?" Maas looked over his shoulder to see a touch of wistfulness in Roy's face.

"What, you think I would leave you to make a hash of everything on your own?" What kind of family would I be if I did? he added, silently.

To judge by the way Roy's smile warmed before he turned back to his latest problem, he'd caught that one, too.

End

The Road

Ed thinks over what he knows about Roy. Drama, I-3.

"...so, unrest, yeah, and plenty of it, but I don't think Sur will be a real problem. Everyone was just nervous." Ed shrugged and slouched down a bit further in his chair. "That's all a lot of the problems are, even the riots."

"Only to be expected," Mustang noted, "though I wish I could convince more of my officers of that truth." He shrugged against his glass backrest.

"Hawkeye-shousa would have fits if she saw you standing with your back to the window like that," Ed observed. A corner of Mustang's mouth curled up.

"Hawkeye-shousa knows the value of a gesture. She would only glare." Ed raised his brows.

"A gesture?" Not that Mustang wasn't past master of a certain flamboyant showmanship, but Ed wondered how something the Major would likely term reckless self-endangerment could be a gesture.

"Bradley's office was buried in the middle of this building," Mustang pointed out. "Mine faces out over the city. And by standing at these windows, and being seen here, I say that I trust the loyalty of the people around me. Soldiers and civilians both."

"So that they'll trust you back?" Ed hazarded, after a moment's thought.

"I can hope. And for those who aren't in line of sight, there's you."

Ed raised his brows. Mustang shrugged and turned to face the windows.

"The outlying areas have nothing but rumor and reputation to judge by. And your reputation is far... cleaner than mine. Your presence, in my name, is a pledge of good faith. Without that I would expect a good deal more panic."

Every now and then Mustang told him, not only how he was using Ed now, but how he had used him before. Ed thought this might be one of those times; his commander had been doing it more often lately. So he thought about what he had done as the military's rather rogue dog, and the reputation it had made for him. Thought about the things he had been able to do, and the things he had never had to deal with. He'd known for years about the latter. Maybe it was time to say so.

"My reputation is cleaner because I was protected," he said, slowly. "You... didn't have anyone to deal with the politics for you. Did you?"

He took Mustang's silence for agreement. And then he tilted his head, curious.

"How did you keep them off me, anyway?" Mustang had never really told him. Of course, Ed had never asked; until a year or so ago it wouldn't have occurred to him to ask. Mustang snorted.

"I told them the truth. You were young. It was only to be expected that you would act impulsively, without considering the long term consequences."

Ed narrowed his eyes at Mustang's back. "That doesn't explain why they left me loose," he pointed out.

"I told them I could control you," Mustang said, flatly. "They were stupid enough to believe me."

"Didn't you?" Ed asked. Mustang laughed.

"You reminded me a good deal of those unstable Stones. They thought those could be controlled, too. But you don't control something that intense. The best you can do is place it where you want something changed, and hope it does more damage to your opponent than it does to you." He glanced back over his shoulder. "I, for one, am very pleased you're no longer so driven, Elric-kun. Placing you properly was very wearing."

Ed had enough to think about for now, so instead of rising to the bait he simply bowed and took his leave. As he strolled down the halls toward the front doors he thought.

Mustang might be surprised that anyone had believed he could control Ed. Ed wasn't. The man practically radiated control. Of course, the flip side of that, and the most likely reason Mustang hadn't believed he could, was Mustang's own intensity. Mustang obviously, at least to Ed, knew first hand how... intractable it made a person. And, Ed had to admit, Mustang's control was considerably less than perfect if you knew what to look for: the times when he baited dangerous people, the moments when he walked head-on into death and never seemed to notice. It was enough to convince anyone that man was an adrenaline addict, if they didn't know that it was just his drive breaking loose for a moment.

As if he had any room to talk about addiction to thrill, Ed reflected wryly. He tried to stay honest with himself, and so he admitted that was one of the major reasons he had returned here. For all the times he had thought his and Al's search might eat his soul, there were things he missed now that the search was over. He could do without the desperation, but there was a vital edge that it had called out. Uncontrollable, frequently, yes, but Ed had liked it. He rather suspected Mustang knew it. Surely he recognized it as the same thing behind his own little outbreaks of behavior that gave his staff heart attacks.

Those outbreaks were a lot less frequent, now that Mustang had, like Ed, achieved his goal.

Ed paused in the middle of the hall.

Or was that it?

Maybe, he thought, walking on, he was wrong. It was obvious to anyone that Mustang's new job was, to make a colossal understatement, time consuming. And energy consuming. Had Mustang come to the end of his road, reached some kind of satisfaction, or was it just that his road was taking everything he had, now?

Everything Roy Mustang had was a very great deal.

Was that what Hughes kept hinting at, when he said how glad he was that Ed was back?

Ed was still mulling over that thought when he emerged into the falling evening to see his housemate waiting for him with a car.

"Maria-san," Ed sighed, "I was coming straight to the house from here. You didn't need to wait."

"No trouble at all, Edward-san," she told him blandly, getting in and patting the seat beside her. Since arguing with Maria's protective instincts was an exercise in futility, right up there with trying to keep Hughes from gushing over his family, Ed climbed in.

He didn't realize he was frowning at empty air until Maria touched his hand to get his attention.

"Hm? Sorry?"

"Was this a difficult assignment?" she asked, frowning a bit herself. Ed shook his head.

"No, actually it all went pretty easily."

"Did Dai-Soutou Mustang say something, then?" she suggested shrewdly.

"He always has something to say," Ed snorted. Maria eyed him for a moment.

"I see," she said, and let him be for the rest of the ride.

Ed thought about the help he'd had on his own road. Much of which he had received whether he liked it or not. When the car stopped and they got out, he stood for a moment, looking up at the house he and Maria shared.

He was still getting a good deal of help, whether he liked it or not.

"Edward-san?"

"Maria-san," he said quietly, looking down at his right hand, "what if we hadn't succeeded? What if... things... hadn't come out right?" He looked up when she took his shoulders.

"Then we would have helped you keep looking until it did," she said, firmly.

Perhaps, Ed thought, turnabout was fair play. He straightened and nodded, and followed Maria up the stairs.

It was time to start keeping a closer eye on his commander.

End