#fmafanfic

“I don’t know if these will help, but we can at least try.” She panted, laying out the supplies on a towel next to the dragon. They noticed that any and all blood that exited the dragons body in one moment, was promptly absorbed back into the dragon in another.

Then Alphonse along with Zampano and Jerso appeared down the stairs and stopped at the base with a gasp, giving Edward a pleading look. “What happened Ed?” Alphonse asked with shock. “Are you alright?” he added, frantically looking over Edward for any wounds of his own.

“I’m fine, I’ll have to explain everything later. For now, we need to help the dragon, but I just don’t know what to do.” Edward informed quickly with a bit of panic in his voice. A choked gurgle came from the dragon on the floor as everyone’s attention focused on it. Its head raised slightly as blood poured out of its mouth, skin falling in chunks then healing immediately afterward.

“W-wait…” it gurgled.

“Wait, wait for what?” Alphonse asked kindly leaning over Edward to look at the dragon. Edwards eyes opened wide in realization.

“We just wait. It’ll dissipate as time passes right? That’s kind of what you said earlier, am I right?” Edward asked. The dragon only slightly nodded before laying its head back on the floor as more convulsions took over.

“That’s it? Isn’t there anything we can do?” Winry asked, taking a folded towel and laying it as close to the dragons body as possible without touching it. Just then the pitter patter of small feet came running up next to Alphonse.

Edward turned his head to find Nina was clutching the pant leg of Alphonse while looking at the dragon with fear. “What happened to the dragon? Momma can fix it, right momma?” Winry attempted to get up from her position but Edward stopped her and went to move in front of Nina, essentially blocking her view of the damaged and bleeding dragon.

“Mommy’s working very hard to help the dragon as best she can. What do you say you and Zampano go get something to eat?” Edward asked Nina kindly.

“Ok. I hope the dragon gets better.” Nina said with a sad frown as Edward turned her around in the direction of the stairs.

“Go get your brother and Zampano will meet you in the kitchen ok?” Edward gave her a loving pat on the head as she walked back up the stairs.

“Ok daddy.” She called.

“I hope that’s ok with you?” Edward asked Zampano as he started to head up the stairs.

“It’s fine Ed, just worry about that dragon of ours.” Zampano smiled. To be fair he enjoyed the company of Nina and Hughes a bit more than listening to all that alchemy talk he was sure the brothers were going to get into.

 After a moment of silence Alphonse cleared his throat and handed another towel to the outstretched hand of Winry, still placing towel barriers around the dragon to stop any blood from traveling too far. “So, gonna tell me what happened in there?” Alphonse asked carefully. Edward took another moment to gather his thoughts while gazing at the dragon still writhing in pain. Slowly he recounted what had happened during the transmutation, giving as much detail as he could remember. Alphonse went from shock and awe to contemplation and worry as he listened quietly to all that Edward said. Lan Fan and Mei came in a bit late to the conversation but with a generalized recap with the help of Alphonse they got the gist of what had happened. As they conversed Winry gently held onto one of Edwards arms, prying his attention away from their conversation. “What’s the matter?” he asked, but his face drained of all color when he looked at the dragon Winry was pointing at.

“It-it just…” she gasped. “died.”

“When? How long ago?” Edward asked frantic. Everyone else in the room waited on bated breath for the reply.

“I-I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention for a moment. Then when I went to change a towel, I noticed its eyes.” Winry recounted quickly, panic overriding her sensibilities. Edward noticed the skin was still continuously going through destruction and reconstruction. He took a small flashlight from his pocket and passed the light over the dragons eyes, there was no reaction and they looked like dead fisheyes. He started to panic and went to touch the dragons face, but before he could get close the dragon gurgled back to life again. He breathed a sigh of relief, “Thought we lost you there. That a normal thing?” he asked. The dragon nodded slightly.

“We should keep time on them then, how long was that? Maybe three minutes?” Alphonse asked, looking to both Edward and Winry.

“Just about. I’ll grab my stopwatch.” Winry went to stand up but stopped at the sound of a clap and transmutation light happening next to her. Edward stared dumbfounded at the stopwatch he had created from the small flashlight using the alchemical skills he had once lost. “No need.” He said as he handed it to Winry.

“You can perform alchemy again!” Alphonse half-shouted, he didn’t want to be too loud around the dragon. “You really did get your Door of Truth back!”

Edward looked at his hands started to smile then thought back to how he got his abilities back in the first place. His expression then changed to guilt as he looked at the dragon, still writhing in pain.

 Suddenly loud stomping could be heard above them along with shouting, then to their horror a loud boom as the house shook and the lights flickered. Everyone except for Winry booked it up the stairs to see what was going on. But before Edward went too far up the stairs a whisper of a voice sounded in his head, “use it if you have to.” He spun around on the steps and looked down at the dragon whose eyes where covered in a thick layer of blood, but still looking in his direction pleadingly.

“If I can avoid using it, I will.” He stated as he gave a slight nod and continued up the stairs. The dragon passed again and Winry started her timer, while looking at the lifeless body she waited.

 Nina and Hughes ran to the arms of Edward while quietly crying in fear. He embraced them and took them to the top of the stairs, he didn’t really want them to see the dragon in the state it was in, but it would be much safer down there than it was up here. “Now, you two need to be brave for mommy ok? She’s down there helping our dragon friend, and I need you two to help her as best you can. Alright? Will you do that for daddy?” He asked calmly as another boom sounded and the house shook once more. Both children silently nodded and quickly walked downstairs to join their mother. Edward used his alchemy to fortify the door more thickly and locked it just in case. Once he was comfortable with the security of the door, he ran out the front of the house into the somewhat darkness that the alchemical walls and ceiling made from Alphonses’ fortification had created. He gave them a glance over, only noticing a few small holes from where the missiles had hit and gave it a nod of approval.

 “Seems to be holding well enough.” Edward remarked as he joined the side of Alphonse who was using the binoculars to look out of a small opening in the wall.

“I sure hope so. They’re bombarding us on all sides right now. I think we made them angry.” Alphonse chuckled half-heartedly, not forgetting the seriousness of the situation they were in. He stood up suddenly and turned to face Edward with a smile. “I got a call from our Fuhrer Roy Mustang a little while ago while you were out. Bad news is we’ve been drafted, good news is both our ranks are Brigadier General.”

“Are you serious? What possessed you to agree to that?” Edward asked angrily, then sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Forget it. Too late now.”

There was another boom in the distance, and everyone backed away from the wall just in time for another missile to hit the wall high up toward the top, causing some of the dirt and rock to pepper the people below.

“This won’t hold forever; we need to come up with something.” Edward remarked, watching the soldiers return to looking out of the small windows.

“Boys they’re moving in, if you’ve got any ideas now is the time.” Zampano announced while passing his binoculars to Jerso. “Jerso and I can distract them while you two could run out and subdue them, meanwhile these guys can lay down suppressive fire.” He queried as he stepped closer. “I know it would be sketchy as all hell, but if they get closer and fire anymore of those things, these walls won’t be able to handle it.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but we don’t know what we’re going up against. Those batons they were using on us hurt like hell, not to mention we couldn’t land a blow on them to save our lives.” Jerso interjected now relinquishing the binoculars to an eager soldier.

“Meaning we’re trapped here.” Edward breathed. He at first considered Zampanos’ plan but after remembering the fight earlier he thought it best to avoid that at all costs. There were women and children in the home, if it had been just them, he would have no qualms against running and gunning it. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to break out his rusty alchemical fighting style he had so dearly missed.

“Al let’s do some artillery firing of our own.” Edward winked as he walked toward the wall, clapped then slapped his hands on the ground in front of him. Immediately on the other side of the wall a cannon that was in poor taste appeared, turned slightly toward an oncoming car and fired. The car swerved a moment too late and took the shot broadside causing it to explode spectacularly. Alphonse joined him by making another cannon on the other end of the wall, turned it to another car and fired. Hitting it directly in its engine and exploding in the same manner. The brothers made a few more cannons that were able to be used on their side of the wall for a few of the soldiers on all sides of the house.

“Something big is heading our way guys!” One of the soldiers shouted above the cannon-fire. Edward ran over to see two hulking masses running at an extremely fast pace toward them, bouncing around each other and dodging cannon-fire and bullets as they ran. Once they were close enough Edward was able to tell they were chimeras of similar makeup as Zampano and Jerso. He turned to look at them already pumping themselves up and removing their shirts in preparation to fight.

“Just don’t die out there!” Edward shouted.

“Don’t plan on it! Make a door for us?” Jerso shouted back.

Edward went to a portion of the wall that wasn’t being used for cannon-fire and made a door large enough for them to pass through. He gave them a pat as they left and eliminated the door entirely, returning it to the wall it was. He went to the closest window to find they had already met up with the two chimeras and were in the thick of it. Watching the fight, he noticed that Zampano and Jerso were easily outmatched as the other two chimeras were landing more blows and relying on delivering heavy damage whereas Zampano and Jerso were focusing on trying to slow them down or immobilizing them. Edward only started to panic when the cars started to get closer, and they had altered them in a manner where the cannon shots would bounce off of them leaving only a dent.

“We’re in trouble!” Alphonse shouted as he gave up his cannon to an awaiting soldier. “What’s the plan now? Do we use the device?” he asked, looking around at the few soldiers that managed to get shot through the small windows.

“Not yet. We don’t know if we need it yet.” Edward replied, taking note of the damage of the walls and ceiling. There was visible sky above them now, meaning they had very little time to figure something out before their gates were essentially stormed. Another boom, only closer this time and the blast nearly blew out the wall next to them. The shock wave sent most people off their feet, knocking them into the side of the house. The dust from the blast obscured their vision and their ears rung for a few moments as Edward and Alphonse helped each other to stand before assisting others.

“Get all the wounded into the basement!” Edward shouted while helping a soldier with a bad cut on his face to his feet. He noticed that more than a few men were bleeding heavily from that last blast, making him worry for how many could help him defend their home. Suddenly he heard one of the cars pull directly next to the wall and loud bootsteps thundered in their direction. “Everyone inside now!” Edward shouted. Within moments everyone began filing through the door, the wounded waited by the basement door as Edward shoved his way past them to open it. Another car on the backside of the house could be heard, then another two more on the left. Edward cursed under his breath as he helped two soldiers to start their descent then returned to the living room. He searched for the device around where he thought he had set it down then remembered. Winry was the one holding it last. He cursed again and ran toward the basement door. Just then, he heard the barrier in the back get blown open. Sending strong reverberations through the wall and jarring him in the process. He could hear Alphonse shouting something, but he didn’t have time to stand there and listen to him. He jumped down the stairs to get to the bottom quicker and ran to Winry in the center. She was clutching Nina and Hughes tightly while still sitting close to the dragon, who appeared to be dead again or still dead from the last time he had seen it.

“Winry where’s that thing I gave for you to hold on to while I was out?” he asked hurriedly. She looked confused first then recognition flashed in her eyes.

“I set it on the kitchen counter!” she shouted. As soon as he received the location, he ran back up the stairs just in time to come face to face with a Drachman looming over him. Edward gut punched him without a moments pause and smashed his face into the wall next to him, knocking him out entirely. Edward continued racing toward the kitchen dodging fists and blows along the way with skill and speed. Once he reached the kitchen, he frantically searched for the device on any surface finally finding it near the sink. He lunged at it just as another Drachman behind him attempted to put him in a chokehold. The Drachman was then attacked by a soldier who promptly knocked him out with the butt of their gun.

When he had it in hand he shakily fiddled with the base of the handle, giving it a solid twist opening the compartment which revealed a small button. He swallowed hard and hesitated for just a moment before pressing it. Immediately the rod lit up a bright red, the two prongs on the end curved inward as if they were made of rubber. A bright spark ignited on the prongs and disappeared toward the basement. A loud thump could be heard beneath him, he panicked, but before he could run to the stairs he was greeted by the dragon. It was still bloody and continuously dying even as it stood before him. Its face twitched and contorted painfully as blood dripped from its open maw. Edward felt a great sense of pity and sorrow for the poor beast.

“O-orders, m-master?” The dragon asked haltingly, every word seemed painful to it. Edward looked back into the chaos of the living room and the overwhelming amount of Drachmen that were overtaking what little soldiers were left.

“Defend us from the Drachmen!” Edward shouted. “In whatever way possible.”

Another spark ignited from the rod that jumped to the dragon, sending waves of pain throughout its entire body, making it contort and writhe as it stood. “Y-yesss, masssster.” The dragon replied and in a blink was gone from his sight. Loud screaming and guttural groans could be heard from the living room, and as Edward cautiously moved around the doorframe to get a better look, he gasped at the carnage left behind. Blood soaked the carpet and plastered the walls, the couch had massive splotches of blood caked on the seat and backing. Heads separated from their bodies laid strewn about the room. The soldiers that were still alive sat shocked and motionless on the floor. Alphonse was nowhere in sight, which made Edward panic and run toward the front door. Panting he cautiously looked around outside but heard nothing except for the sounds of screaming. Then he finally spotted Alphonse who was trying to help a heavily wounded soldier on the porch into the house.

“Al, you alright?” Edward shouted from the door.

“I’m fine. I can see you used it.” Alphonse stated with a twinge of fear in his words and a slight smile. “As much as I hate to admit it, that thing was a lifesaver.”

“You didn’t see what it does to her though.” Edward said with anger, making Alphonse lose his small smile. “You’ll see soon enough I think.” Edward finished as he helped to guide them toward the basement around the body riddled living room, leaving Alphonse pale in the face once seeing it. Once they got him into the arms of the other soldiers they ran back upstairs and out the door. They had stopped hearing the screams. With panic mounting they left the safety of what was left of the barriers and looked around at the mess of body parts and car parts strewn around the lawn. Alphonse turned and vomited on the spot. Edward had to grasp his chest to avoid puking, himself. They turned around to find the dragon attacking and promptly killing both of the enemy chimeras by ripping their head off with its jaws. Zampano and Jerso were heavily wounded themselves and trying to help each other to stand. The dragon suddenly appeared before the brothers, covered in blood, of whose they couldn’t tell anymore, while still experiencing the pattern of dying over and over again.

“A-area sec-secure, massster.” The dragon hissed through bloody clenched teeth. Edward gave Alphonse a worried look and held the device up so both could see it function.

“Your duty is fulfilled, return to the basement with Winry and rest.” Edward ordered; pity mixed with worry filled his voice as he spoke. Once again, the rod sent a strong spark from its prongs which bounced onto the dragon, eliciting the same painful reaction as earlier. The sight of which made Alphonse desire to throw up again.

“A-as you w-wish, m-master.” The dragon coughed and promptly disappeared once more into the house. Edward turned the device in his hand and pressed the button again. The prongs returned to their original form and the red glow dissipated into nothing and it returned to the dull red shade it was.

“Well, we’re never using that again.” Alphonse remarked as he swallowed to attempt to avoid from throwing up again.

“No kidding.” Edward retorted, looking at the device in his hand with disgust. In the distance he could hear the faint sound of a horn honking. He turned to find a large number of cars were heading their way. “You gotta be shitting me.” He sighed.

“What?” Alphonse asked, but before he could receive an answer, he saw just why Edward was upset. “They couldn’t come at a more inconvenient time.” He sighed to himself.

Out of the front window of the forward car hung the muscular body of General Alex Louis Armstrong in all his glory. As their entourage got closer, they parked just outside of the massacre that remained on the lawn. Armstrong bolted out of his car but slowed once he caught the sight of the scene before him.

“Good God. We came as quickly as we could and could see their numbers as we drove up, but never in all my years…” He stopped as he finally reached the brothers who were standing in place waiting for him. “I hope everyone made it through alright.” Armstrong finished, giving a glance around the now heavily destroyed walls still left around the house.

“Barely.” Edward sighed as he extended a hand for Armstrong to shake. Armstrong forwent the handshake for a backbreaking embrace. Making Edward gasp for air.

“You poor Elric brothers, getting yourself into such a horrible situation such as this! And I arrived too late to assist! I hope you can forgive me!” Armstrong shouted as he squeezed. Alphonse stood outside the embrace; thankful he didn’t have to endure it while feeling some pity for Edward.

“Damnit General Armstrong can you let me breathe for a second!” Edward huffed.

“Terribly sorry.” Armstrong sniffled as he finally released his grip on Edward, setting him down in front of him. Some of the soldiers from Armstrong’s entourage ran up behind him. Some turned and vomited just as Alphonse had done, others tried to look upward to avoid looking at the slaughter.

“Orders sir!” One of the soldiers, pale in the face saluted and stood at attention behind General Armstrong.

“Secure the area, make sure there aren’t any more hiding anywhere. And see about getting some men to clean this up. The Fuhrer is on his way after all.” General Armstrong ordered.

“What?” Edward asked angrily. “He’s coming here!? Damnit Al why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sorry Ed, I kinda had a lot on my plate at that moment.” Alphonse shouted back at him, not taking an inch of his ridiculousness.

“Boys, can we take this matter indoors? I have a few things I’d like to discuss before Mustang arrives.” Armstrong asked with a serious tone.

“I’m afraid inside isn’t much better than out here.” Edward remarked with a sigh. “But the basement will have to do. Let me get rid of these walls first.” Armstrong was about to remark on Edwards lack of alchemical ability but instead stood in shock as he watched Edward perform alchemy and the walls dissolved into the ground below.

“How are you able to perform alchemy? I thought you were unable to after retrieving Alphonse.” Armstrong asked while still being dumbfounded.

“It’s a long story, and one I’d like to tell after I check on our dragon friend.” Edward stated quickly as he began leading Armstrong inside. As they entered the front door, Armstrong gasped at the sight of the room in front of him.

“You weren’t kidding Edward. It really isn’t much better. I’ll have my men clean this up as well.” Armstrong informed and continued to follow Edward.

“I’m sure Granny Pinako and Winry will appreciate that.” Edward remarked with a sigh as he continued down the stairs into the basement.

With Armstrong directly behind him Edward stopped at the base of the stairs once he caught sight of the dragon. He frantically checked around the room for the location of Nina and Hughes. He finally spotted them in the arms of Mei and Lan Fan in a far corner. They were holding them tightly again their bodies, trying to hide their faces from seeing the bloodied mess on the floor. Granny Pinako was tending to some of the wounded, she was also pale in the face from the sight of the dragon.

The dragon no longer looked like a dragon in that it didn’t bear any scales or skin and was only a bleeding mass of muscle and bone laying on the floor. Winry was doing the best she could at keeping the blood from pooling too far as well as offering hushed tones of comfort to the remains of the dragon. A large spot of vomit colored the floor next to her where she had most likely lost all of her lunch. The other soldiers had their eyes shielded or hung low to not make eye contact with the bleeding mass. Winry turned her head slowly, her face pale and skin covered in sweat as she shakily held the stopwatch for him to see.

Chris nursed a brandy, seated at the bar. She kneaded her temples tiredly, leaning her elbow onto the bar and her face into her hand.

She thought she had aged ten years in three days. And she didn’t even have the kid yet.

“Chris?” asked Jess, her most experienced girl. Chris had only gotten the bar less than a year ago, and could use every bit of help she could get.

“I can’t do this,” she admitted quietly. “I can’t. I’m not a mother. I really can’t.”

“He isn’t even here yet,” Jess hummed, crossing her arms in front of her. “You can’t blow him off before he’s even here.”

“I can’t. Look at this. I live where I work. You can’t raise a child like that.”

“Who says you can’t?” Jess countered. “You were fine with it a week ago.”

“I only found out a week ago!” Chris rounded on her, eyes flaring. She didn’t like what Jess was trying to do to her nerves. She knew her fears were irrational, knew they were unnecessary, but surprise surprise, that was no help. “I’m just… I’m not a mother.”

Jess put on a little frown. She pulled out the stool beside Chris and sat in it, taking Chris’ shoulder. “Well, okay. It doesn’t work out. What happens then? What’s option B? You have until you sign those papers. Until then, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

Chris turned a heavy gaze on Jess, who was watching her steadily. Jess, and most of Jess’ life, had been the byproduct of insincerity and failing commitment. Very little meant more to her than sticking to your word.

What she was really saying was, “if you agree to do this, you stick with it until the end. No cutting out in the middle because it got hard.”

...And, she wouldn’t do that. Her brother had been family, and that was that. Family didn’t let down family.

“...Yeah.”

“You have two more hours to get used to the idea,” Jess reminded gently. She squeezed Chris’ shoulder again, leaning her face a little closer, “and you won’t be alone.”

Again, Chris nodded. She knocked back another swig and blew out a low breath, then stood. “I’m stepping out for a smoke. Watch the place?”

Jess smiled a little, clearly pleased. She knew Chris too well. Chris could smoke through a pack in a day seated in one place if no one got in her way. She didn’t mind the scent of the smoke or the heaviness in the air or the way that it hung around for hours in the bar.

No, when she stepped out to smoke, it meant she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She wanted her own, unbiased opinion. She had so many things to think about. Like planning the funeral for Arlan and Jiao.

They had been cut down in the prime of life, by a drunk, who chose to climb behind the wheel of a car they didn’t know how to drive. They had been on their way home from something as mundane as the grocery store. A run of the mill, day-to-day activity. Their son had been in the backseat, with the groceries, when it all happened.

Apparently, when he’d been pulled out of the wreckage, arm broken, covered in blood, pried from his mother’s arms, he had been covered in cracked eggs. Jiao appeared to have leapt into the backseat to make sure he was alright, knocking over one of the bags, and ended up bleeding out over him.

He had been sent to the hospital, and had been there for the past week. Chris had been informed that, since she was next of kin, she would be getting him until they could find a more suitable place, and had spent the past week getting accustomed to the idea.

Now, the kid was two hours away from being there, escorted by another police officer, and only now Chris was panicking.

Chris wasn’t a mother. She and Jiao weren’t cast in the same mold. She wasn’t a comforter, and she wasn’t a nurturer, and she feared that the kid would need exactly that.

...But, Jess had a point. Most of her girls lived at the bar with her so, if nothing else, she’d have their assistance.

And she couldn’t abandon her family. Arlan wasn’t always her favorite person, but in many ways he had been her best friend. She had met the kid once as an infant, and now… now she would be doing more than meeting him.

She didn’t need anymore time. She had the support of her girls, and the blessing of his parents. She was taking this kid in, signing those papers, and… becoming his foster mother. Until he didn’t need her anymore.

She smoked her cigarette to the butt and stood outside in the afternoon sun. She was glad she had shut down the bar for the day, in preparation for their visitor. She didn’t have the energy or the sense to prepare the bar for service tonight. She could certainly use a drink, but that could wait until after the kid was settled in his room.

Chris took one last puff of her cigarette and flicked the butt away, then decided to head inside and pick up the dining room a little. Cleaning had been finished from the night before, but it would be good for the kid to be introduced to a better-than-acceptable home and get comfortable.

Four of her girls soon joined her, cleaning up the bar and sitting area and polishing glasses. She appreciated their silent support, their unspoken promise to stay. These girls were like family to her, as much as Arlan and Jiao were. As much as the kid was.

Two hours passed by sooner than she expected, and soon there was the sound of a car pulling up to the bar. Chris took a huge breath and released it in choppy portions. Her life was two minutes from changing forever.

There was a knock at the door, and one of her younger girls, Juno, flashed a glance at Chris and then headed to the door. She flipped the lock and opened the door, changing the rest of Chris’ life with no hesitation.

Officer Barron stepped in first. Chris knew him personally, for many reasons. He was one of the officers that patrolled this area and regular stepped in to “make sure that she was alright”. She knew, though, that his inquiry was not genuine. What he really searched for was a reason to shut the entire establishment down.

Though that was true, he also stopped in three nights a week to share a bed with one of her girls. She didn’t much like him, because he was a terrible hypocrite, and she hated hypocrites. Hated the way that they lied, hated the way that they walked around with their noses up, like they were better than everyone else. Chris may not run the most honest, lawful establishment in Central City, but at least she was up front about it.

All she knew was that Barron visited here the way he did in self-centered ways. Whether he visited at night to gather evidence not as easily found in the day, or visited in the day to keep this establishment open for his thrice-weekly ritual, he was selfish about it either way.

...Still. Though his eyes roamed all around the room, eyed all the girls, and though hard eyes landed on Chris, he didn’t appear to be looking for evidence for once.

“Mustang,” Barron grunted.

“Barron,” Chris snapped back, crossing her arms over his chest.

He took a few steps in, then turned to the side. He carried a big black plastic bag over one shoulder, but was careful to keep it high.

Behind the officer, tucked in his shadow, there was a tiny figure, hugging itself. When Barron stepped to the side, he revealed the shape of a little boy.

“Come on, Roy,” Barron grunted, reaching his free hand back to push the kid forward by his head. The boy stumbled a little, then came to a stop just a step in front of Barron.

This was Chris’ little nephew, the orphan. His right arm was braced in a cast, and he was leaning heavily on his left side. His head was so low that his chin brushed his chest. He didn’t lift his head and he didn’t lift his eyes, didn’t even speak a word.

Barron dropped the bag to the floor and shoved it to the side. He put his hand on Roy’s back and pushed him again, a little harsher. Roy tripped over his little feet but managed to keep his footing. His right knee bent a little, standing on his toes. Something in the accident must have messed with his ankle, judging by the way he walked.

“Go on, Roy,” Barron said, voice a little snappish, a little impatient. His voice carried the undertone of a commander; he clearly didn’t know how to speak to a child.

Not that Chris did, of course. Maybe in this case, she was the hypocrite.

Roy flinched from his voice, then took a few more steps forward, limping lightly. He appeared to be waiting for permission for… something. More than anything, he seemed impossibly lost in a dining room no bigger than forty feet across.

Finally, after what felt like twenty minutes of silence, it was Jess who worked up the courage to come forward. She had two little sisters, only a little older than Roy, that she went to visit some weekends, so she at least knew how to talk to kids.

She moved forward and crouched in front of him, getting so low they were nearly eye level. Roy still didn’t lift his head, even seemed to turn his head away from her. “Hi,” Jess finally said, resting her hands on her knees. “You must be Roy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Roy turned his head back in Jess’ general direction. He didn’t lift his eyes, still stared at his feet. Very, very quietly, almost as silent as a ghost, he mumbled, “you’re not my aunt.”

Jess smiled a little, tilting her head to try and get into his line of vision. “No, but she and I are good friends. My name is Jess. I think you’re gonna like it here, Roy.”

Roy made a small noise with his mouth, but made no move and no other noise.

Jess smiled and let out an affectionate little laugh. “Come in, little one. Come meet the other girls.” She stood and reached for Roy’s good hand, prying it from his shirt. She pulled him forward until he stood right before his aunt.

Behind them, Barron exchanged a word with Juno, then stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving the big black bag, what must have been all of Roy’s things, behind.

Jess dropped Roy’s hand and stepped to the side. His hand returned to his shirt sleeve, knotting it in his fingertips.

After another moment, Roy finally lifted his head just a little, just enough to get an eyeful of the force of a woman before him. Very quietly, he opened his mouth and mumbled, “the of-ficer said you’re my aunt.”

“I am,” Chris agreed, feeling a little catch in her throat. “You can call me Aunt Chris, or Madam.”

“I don’t know you.”

Chris nodded a little and took a step closer. “I met you once, but you were too young to remember.”

“Daddy talked about you, though.”

“Good things, I hope.”

Roy shrugged, but Chris had a feeling that it wasn’t because Arlan had ever had something vastly negative to say. He started quaking a little, his cast jostling, and Chris could feel emotion rolling off him. He was scared, lonely, lost, and hurt, in a place he had never been and with people he had never met. And the two people in the world who could help him, the two people who loved him unconditionally, had died right in front of him.

Chris’ throat closed up for a second and she forced herself to turn away from the sight of a grieving child. She wasn’t terribly emotional, but this child’s parents—her brother and sister-in-law—had died only a week ago, and part of her struggled with that thought.

“I’m sorry about your parents, kid.”

A sudden hiccup left Roy’s mouth, and he lifted his good hand to press against his face. He started jerking and shaking, sobs leaving his mouth, as if everything that happened was coming down on him at once.

And Chris, who was no good with kids, who hadn’t dealt with anyone younger than eighteen since she had met Roy that first time five years ago, who was no good with her own emotions, Chris did nothing.

After a full moment of watching this child break down in front of them, finally did Mia stride forward and crouch in front of him. She introduced herself so he had a name to his comforter, then asked if she could pick him up. After a second, Roy nodded his head in a way that could almost be disguised as a quake from his grief, so Mia scooped him up and held him close, fitting her knee beneath his rump to get him higher against her. His good arm went around her neck, his bad arm fell to his side, and his head fell into her shoulder. Mia bounced him for a second, then turned to her boss for direction.

“Bring him upstairs,” Chris said, jerking her head in the general direction of the stairs. They had a room set aside for him, the one nearest to Chris’, with a little bed and dresser ready for him.

Mia dipped her head, rubbed his back, and took off for the stairs.

With the sobbing boy gone, the tension disappeared at once. Juno came over and shared a word with Chris, mentioning something about paperwork that Chris hoped Jess would remember, then she went toward the living room.

The last girl, her chef Dyna, dipped her head in Chris’ direction and stepped out. She was one of the few girls who had a place offsite, and she had a dog at home, so Chris didn’t mind when she left a little early.

“...So?” asked Jess after just a second, eyeing Chris.

“...We’ll keep him,” Chris said gently. She lifted her bejewelled hands and pressed one against smarting eyes, then took a heavy breath. “We’ll keep him. He has a… a home here. He’s one of us now.”

Jess pursed her lips, but the way her corners tilted up told Chris that she was fighting off a massive smile, which put a little warmth in her heart. Jess nodded and headed upstairs, leaving Chris to her thoughts. Chris sat back against the bar and pulled out another cigarette, giving Roy the time to calm down and become somewhat accustomed to his newest surroundings.

Several hours later, Chris retired upstairs. In the time between, she had taken the bag of Roy’s belongings downstairs. She washed and dried the clothes, and cracked open the three books he had brought with. The only other thing in that bag, besides a pair of boots, was a little stuffed rabbit with blood on its right arm. She did her best to clean it, but the poor rabbit would spend the rest of its life a little pink.

She carried the rabbit on one arm, and a fresh set of pajamas for him on the other. She wanted to check on him before going to bed, hoping that his stuffed rabbit would help him sleep through the night.

She cracked his door open without announcing her arrival. Mia had gone off to bed a while ago, saying that Roy asked that she leave him alone. He was suffering, she said, and felt he had no one. Chris could hardly blame him.

The bed was in the far corner, about three feet from a window. Despite the soft moonlight spilling in, Roy was turned away from it on his side. Judging by his shaky breath, Roy was not sleeping.

Chris quietly crept toward him and leaned over him. Indeed, his eyes didn’t appear to be closed, and he didn’t even look like he was trying to sleep. He just stared ahead at the plain wall, silent, shaking.

“Get up, Roy,” she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Get changed.”

Roy sniffed hard and turned his head a little to look at her. Now that she got a good look at his face, she saw that his injuries did not end at a gimpy ankle and a broken arm. There was a healing cut running down the side of his face, by his right eye, and another above his left brow. A bandage was taped onto his right cheek as well, but she couldn’t see what was going on beneath.

He eyed her, then very slowly sat up, wincing a little when he put strain on his arm. Chris helped him change without a word, then carefully led him back down into the bed and brought his blanket up to his shoulders.

“I w-want my Mama and Daddy,” Roy finally said with a shaking breath. When Chris passed him his rabbit, he buried his nose in it and started shaking against it.

Chris turned her head away when tears returned to his voice and his face. She patted his shoulder and, not knowing what else she was to say, she simply assured, “I know. Good night, Roy.”

And she, who was no good with kids and no good with emotions, who had just become this orphan boy’s foster mother, she walked away to rest up for a new day. Before she closed the door behind her, Roy breathed out a shaking breath, and seemed to fall quiet. She didn’t know if he fell asleep, or if he decided he was done crying, but whatever it was, Chris thought it would be good for him.

Of what? You’d ask, because we’ve shared a similar conversation before. Proud of their failure? And while I do agree that that is something even they might think you mean, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t say it. You can correct them. Aren’t you proud of all the good they’ve done? Aren’t you proud, that for every time they’ve failed at achieving their ultimate goal, they’ve still grown as people, grown into a pair of lovely young men?

Well, what about you? You’d say, because I can see a bit of guilt hidden behind your eyes and I know that you do, you feel so proud of them but haven’t said a word. Do you tell them?

I try to, Roy. Maybe I don’t tell them every day that I see them, “I’m proud of what you’ve become”, but I try to let them know I’m at least pleased with them. Once when I took Edward shooting, so he could get accustomed to a gun, even when he missed half his targets and shot a quarter of the time with his eyes closed, I still told him that for a first-timer, he had done very good. He beamed at me the rest of the day.

That’s all it takes, Roy.

I know it’s a pride thing, with you. It’s always been a pride thing. It’s a pride thing that keeps you from telling me some of the things you want to say, a pride thing that keeps your affections for your team quiet, and it’s a pride thing now.

But the team, and myself, we’ve been around you for so long that we’ve come to read the looks on your face and your body language and the inflections in your voice. We’ve become skilled at reading the unspoken.

But those boys, they’re only children. They don’t know you so well, and they more readily need to know these things, anyway.

So can’t you just say it? Just once?

They’ve got you, you’ll say, wouldn’t it be overkill? Perhaps, if we all chose one collective day to make them know that they were loved, perhaps that would be overkill. But is there such a thing as too many people loving them? I don’t think so.

Because you don’t see the way they look, when they walk out of your office, Roy. You don’t see the bone-weary exhaustion on the face of a fifteen-year-old. You don’t see the disappointment in his eyes—not disappointment with the mission, not even with you. Disappointment perhaps that, once again, he was unworthy of praise.

And even if they do have me, is just one of us enough? After all, they’ve had a mother before. A mother who loved them, whom they adored, who they even went so far as to try to bring back. But a father? They didn’t really have one of those. You’ll say you’re not their father (as if we haven’t heard that line before), and we’ll all yammer and agree that you werent there for the first ten years of their life so you couldn’t possibly be their father.

They still look up to you.

Did you know that, Roy? Did you know that they look up to you? That they don’t think that you’re their father, but surely you’re a surrogate something? That they’ll be talking to me sometimes, Alphonse is especially guilty of this, and they’d sometimes ask what you would think? But they wouldn’t dare bring it up to your face, because you have hardly said anything positive to them in three years. It isn’t right, that they wonder what you’d think, but are too nervous to ask you of your opinion and would rather ask me of your opinion instead.

So can’t you just say it?

They’ll be embarrassed, you’d say, and on that one I’d definitely have to agree with you. The same sort of embarrassed, I imagine, that Hughes always made you feel, cheering you on from the sidelines, checking up on you, going as far as to say he loved you some days. The sort of embarrassed that secretly warmed your heart and made fighting for the next day that much easier.

But I can see your resistance wearing thin, now, because Hughes has always been your weak spot.

Isn’t it enough, you wonder, and now I wonder why on earth you’re fighting this so hard, that I send them on these missions? That I took them in? Doesn’t that say I think them capable?

Well, sir, you’re right. Sending them off on increasingly dangerous missions does say that you think they’re capable. And I suppose that’s good.

But does thinking they’re capable, and telling them you’re proud, ever really equate? You’ve thought them capable from the beginning, or you wouldn’t have sponsored them to take the State Alchemy exam. But you weren’t proud of them back then. You didn’t even know them back then. You can’t tell me that in three years, your opinions of them haven’t changed, not even a smidge.

I know they have. I see the look in your eyes. I’ve seen your pride, your practical adoration. I know what they mean to you.

So, just once, sir? Just tell them once.

Will they even accept it? You wonder, which is probably the fairest of the questions you’ve asked. Neither of those boys knew how to deal with affection, and if we’re being honest here, Roy, nor do you.

But really, even if they didn’t, even if they stormed off in a huff, thoroughly embarrassed and not sure how, exactly, they were to respond, wouldn’t it still be worth it? Wouldn’t a single day of embarrassment be worth the two of them waking up for the next year knowing that they had worth to you? I think so. Some days I still catch Edward smiling shyly at me.

Sir, if you care for them, and I know you do, why can’t you just say so? Why do you punish them like this? No, I agree, it’s not really punishment. After all, don’t they need to have done something wrong in the first place?

You stop, and I see you consider it, and finally, after so long, I think I might have won.

The day you stop making excuses and stop asking questions is the day I know you’ve accepted to yourself what you’ve known all along.

I sit in the office at my desk the next day that the boys are due in. As always I’m cheerful to see them, because it always helped them to see smiling happy faces and friendly folks. Ed is less on edge than when he walked in, and Al is downright cheery.

I usher them into your office, and Ed’s face falls a little and he looks a little nervous. He caused some problems, on his last mission, a little collateral damage, really it wasn’t much, but he knows how you are with collateral damage and maybe he’s not in the mood for a lecture (but who ever really is). I hope you don’t blow this, sir. He’s walking into your office, Al close by because he knows how his brother gets, and they’re both a little nervous and I hope you know that now is the time to put them at ease.

Just once, sir. Just say it once.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, Ed must have thrown something, there’s a loud crash, and the door is suddenly kicked in and, as predicted, Ed storms out in a huff. His face is nearly as red as his coat, he’s marching out like he’s on parade, but the look on his face…

Oh, sir, if you could see it…

I’ve never seen him smile so big.

He glances at me, and I smile pleasantly at him (because how can you not when he wore such a genuine smile so big?), and I swear that smile grows. He hikes his shoulder and hides his red face in his coat, quickly marching out and saying something about the library, but he seems so utterly pleased that the whole office soaks it in. He looked like he felt he was ten feet tall.

Only a few seconds later Alphonse appears. His face of course is unmoving, but that never seemed to stop the show of his emotions before, and that didn’t change now. He’s beaming at everyone and everything, and if he had a heart it would have been pounding, and if he could cry, I think he just might have been.

Don’t you see, sir?

Alphonse walks out of the office after his brother, and once out the door, his footsteps are light as he chases Ed down. Those two amazing boys just needed to know, on the occasion, that they were doing good. I think just about everyone would like to know that.