Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
Ed knew he’d become a problem for a lot of people. He knew when he and Al started their misguided crusade that they’d make enemies, and Ed would take the brunt of that. At the time, the gain was worth being hunted for the rest of his life. He never expected to get this old, anyway. But he has a wife now. They’re trying to have a child. The future is something he can envision, now, something he wakes up excited for. And it’s in danger. He just couldn’t retire quietly, couldn’t let evil people be someone else’s problem. It seems these days he has more enemies than friends, and they’re catching up to him. Catching up to his family.
He hugs his wife, kisses the side of her face. The bandanna she pushes her hair back into a bun with is askew, and loose strands of silky blonde hair tumble loose. He tries to memorise the feel of them under the calluses of his flesh hand.
She makes him promise to write, again, and a thousand other things. Anything to keep them talking, keep him here. But he has to go, and eventually she just trails off and nods. She was always so strong. Strong enough for him to take just a little more. He wishes she didn’t have to be.
Ed turns to his brother. Al’s taller than him now, but not so tall he has to crane his neck. In the dark, his silhouette reminds Ed of his old armour.
‘Al…’
‘I know, brother,’ he assures him. He shouldn’t have to be strong either. ‘I’ll keep her safe.’
Ed steps forward and grasps his brother by the shoulder. ‘You too.’
‘Me too.’
One last hug from Al– warm and soft and real. He smells like apple shampoo, their latest project, copper, tin, trace amounts of acetone, and that acute scent Ed attributes to alchemy. They pull back. Ed thinks that might be it, but then Al says, ‘Have fun out there.’
Ed grins. ‘Always, Al.’
Then they all quietly board the train. Hopefully they’ll be able to come back soon. He hates to see his wife leave their home because of him, but he’ll feel better with Al watching her, just for a while. No one knows about the connection between the Fullmetal Alchemist and Resembool yet, to his knowledge, but he is taking absolutely no chances.
The country was a mess when Roy took over as Fuhrer, even more so than they realised. Many suffered, and a select few profited extensively from that suffering. Worse, more than half the problems were systematic. Change is a hard and ugly thing, and Amestris was fighting it with all her might. Roy had it hard enough as Fuhrer, trying to run the whole shitheap gracefully and be a half decent man at the same time, but Ed never did do ‘graceful’ very well. While Roy walked the political tightrope with a charming smile that hid the bags under his eyes, Ed did what Ed did best: he talked his shit. He stood his ground and fought his battles– and not just the ones he was explicitly allowed to fight. Even with the chaos of his service behind him, Ed is a loose cannon that even the Fuhrer himself can’t cover for anymore. There have been calls for his discharge, honourable and dishonourable, calls for him to be awarded, dismissed, arrested, even killed. The country is divided, and Ed is quickly becoming a symbol of unrest. Even now, he is the Hero of the People. Once upon a time, when Ed could defend himself, his metal hulk of a brother, and any civilians that found themselves in the crossfire, that was fine. Things are different now.
Ed keeps his head down and stays close to cover as he passes through the station, despite it being far too early for anyone to be here. He nods gratefully to Rohan, the station hand who’s up just to see his family off. Resembool is one of those rare places that boasts the kind of integrity one only finds in a town that’s relied on itself since its conception. Wanted by the government or not, Ed is family here. Rohan nods back at him with a grim set to his mouth.
Ed turns a corner and freezes. In half a second, he knows the silhouette standing at the end of the line. He’s become familiar with it, mostly in the context of being backlit by fire and brimstone. Even out of uniform, Mustang makes an impression.
‘Fullmetal,’ the Fuhrer greets.
Ed’s mind races through every possible scenario at break-neck speed. He elects not to commit to any one action yet. He stays where he is, ready to move any way he should need to, and hopes that he is not of enough political value to counterbalance the personal discomfort of bringing him in. He rules nothing out, though. Roy’s a good man at the core, but he is, first and foremost, an opportunistic politician. If Roy believes it would be in the interest of the country, no amount of personal history will save Ed from his will.
‘Colonel Bastard,’ he returns evenly.
‘Been a while since I’ve been that, Major.’
Been a while since Ed was a Major, too. ‘Yeah, well, you’ll always be a bastard to me.’
Abruptly, Roy starts walking. Ed makes the decision to stay put. There is nothing Roy could do to him from close-quarters that he can’t from a distance– in fact, less space gives Ed the advantage. And if Roy was going to arrest him, he’d be in cuffs already. As far as he can tell, they really are alone, except for–
‘Ed?’ Bless his heart, Rohan steps up beside him on wobbly legs, pretending he has no idea he’s staring down the honest-to-Truth Fuhrer. ‘You all good here?’
Roy’s steps falter. Ed’s heart melts. Rohan’s not even eighteen yet, and Ed knows he’ll fight for his neighbour right here and now if Ed says the word. Ed can’t stop himself from squeezing the boy’s shoulder, warming even further when Rohan doesn’t start at the metal.
‘I’m all good, thanks Rohan. How ‘bout you go home? It’s late.’
Rohan’s head whips between them. He gulps thickly, and somehow convinces his feet to stay planted. ‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure. Careful on the roads going home, eh? If you got hurt, I’d be real cut up.’ Ed says it loudly enough that it’s clear, even to Rohan, that it’s for the Fuhrer to hear. Really, Ed knows he’d never have to state something so plainly for Roy to pick it up, but Rohan should know Ed’s looking out for him.
The boy gives a firm nod and pointedly does not flee the scene, shooting looks behind him as he goes. Nothing more is said until his footsteps recede into the dawn’s creeping light.
‘That was stupid,’ Roy admonishes.
‘It’s called family,’ Ed replies staunchly. The incline of Roy’s head tells Ed that he acknowledges the weight of that statement from him. ‘Now you’re clearly not here to arrest me, so what is it? You gonna give me an ultimatum? My discharge papers? Get on with it, then.’
Close as he’s gotten, Ed catches the pull of the Fuhrer’s lip, as familiar and instinctual as muscle memory. It’s hard not to feel fifteen again, particularly as Roy stifles it down and steps closer.
‘Really Fullmetal, where do you come up with these fantasies? How should I give you your discharge papers when you’re currently on a foreign dignitary mission representing Amestris? Arresting you would rather get in the way of that, don’t you think?’
Yeah, like muscle memory: Ed snarks, Roy pretends not to smirk, and Ed gets landed with some new pile of bullshit in the pretty wrapping of an ‘important mission’. He has not missed Colonel Bastard, whatever Al says.
‘And are you here alone because of the nature of the mission, or because it’s me?’
‘Both.’ Roy finally steps closely enough to place a hand at the small of Ed’s back and start shepherding him along. Ed falls into step without even realising, already decoding the lines in the Fuhrer’s face. ‘You need to be out of the country, and here’s your ticket. You’re not representing Amestris in any official capacity, and this place is so far from us it hardly matters. They’ve been requesting the aid of a research expert for years. I’ve made it all classified, so no one will know where you are except you, me, and Riza. You can contact me throughout, and I’ll get the message through to your brother or whoever you like. Here,’ he stuffs a folder into Ed’s hand. ‘Do not open that until you’ve crossed the border.’
Ed splutters and fights as Roy herds him out the back of the station where a car with a near-silent engine is parked on the grass. The tire tracks have been erased alchemically.
‘Why should I– listen here, Mr. Fuhrer, I can take care of myself! I don’t want your fuckin’ show pony mission! A diplomatic–! Do you know who you’re talking to, or have you gone senile in your–’
‘Shut up for once, Fullmetal, and just do what I say!’ Roy hisses, yanking Ed’s arm sharply into place. Ed actually does quiet at Roy’s expression. ‘It’s not diplomatic, not really. And believe it or not, it’s not all about you!’
Ed knows that. He’s mostly kicking up a stink ‘cause he has a reputation to uphold and Roy brings it out in him. And he has his own plans, damnit! Why should he put himself back in the hands of the military when he has a way around it? Not to mention, it’s pretty last minute to change tracks now! He’s got one foot out the door! But Roy will know all that. If he’s still insisting, there’s a reason. Which means it’s not Ed that’s gonna end up owing the military, but the other way around. And for Roy to be here so brazenly offering him that information, things must be pretty dire.
Ed takes proper stock of his superior for a measured moment. There is the regular sharpness in his eyes that Ed recognises him by, of course, but Ed makes a conscious effort to look at his whole face plainly, and that picture is less known to him. He’s still Roy– smooth skin and deliberate features, dark contrast and dignity. The part of his elegance that is manually conjured is gone here and now, speaking to an equal he has no need to deceive. His hair falls across his forehead in just the same way it used to. Still, Ed notices now that there is grey tentatively forming at his temples, right where he used to rub them when exasperated. His forehead is threatening to crease, and there are new lines in his face that, Ed now realises, are not just from the impressive expressions Ed’s known for coaxing out of him. He’s still Roy, but it dawns on Ed that in subtle ways, he looks ten years older.
‘One condition,’ Ed pronounces. Roy rolls his eyes, but he knows it’s best to humour him.
‘What’s that, Fullmetal?’
‘Don’t let Al get a cat while I’m away.’
A sharp bark of laughter explodes out of him. He looks as surprised about it as Ed. He must really need a break, because his voice almost comes out fond. ‘He’s still on that?’
‘He’s a stubborn bastard, waddyou think?’ Ed smiles. He must need a break too, because he doesn’t even tease Roy for slipping. ‘How long am I gone for?’
‘Undetermined.’
‘You’ll let Al and Win know?’ Roy starts to protest, and Ed waves a dismissive hand at him. ‘Not the details, but the bare bones?’
‘Consider it done.’
The sun is rising, painting the slick black car orange with long, reaching fingers. A new one pulls up silently beside it, and an officer in civvies steps out with a brief, understated, but respectful salute. She rounds the first car and opens the door, eyes on Ed.
‘I want it on record that I don’t like this,’ Ed says, as per tradition.
‘What record?’ Roy replies smoothly. His eyes twinkle though. Old sap.
‘Just don’t ruin my country while I’m away.’
‘Since it’s you asking, Fullmetal, I’ll consider it.’
Ed whaps him on the chest and clambers into the car with an acknowledging nod to the officer. Roy’s driver says something to him, but he waves her off. The Fuhrer stays to smirk at Ed’s double middle fingers through the windshield as they pull away.
It’s all like muscle memory.