Waiting: Mother Arc: Chapter 12

"I'm sure it's not as bad as all that."

Roy raised an eyebrow at the statement and the muffled response it got. Intrigued, he finished hanging up his coat and headed for the kitchen.

"Well, just what did you say, then?"

Ed's answer was lost to the circle of his arms.

"What's happened now?" Roy inquired from the doorway.

Alphonse waved a spatula at his older brother. "Ask him."

Ed banged his forehead against the table and mumbled something into his arms again.

"Come again?"

The blond groaned and hunched in on himself.

Roy leaned back against the table and reached over to brush the messy bangs aside. One eye cracked open, and grimaced up at him.

Ed sighed. "I yelled at your mom," he said with obvious reluctance.

"Is that all? I'm actually surprised it's taken this long."

He jerked his head up with a scowl. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Roy withdrew his hand. "Ed—Love—you yell at everyone. And . . ." he sighed. "I love my mother, but she has a way of pushing people's buttons. It's—ow!" He frowned and rubbed the spot where Ed's fist had connected with his thigh. "Just what was that for?"

"Because now I know where you get it from."

"My father was no slouch at it, either," he muttered. "It was quite something when they'd quarrel. But I still don't see why that's any reason to hit me."

"I told him it wasn't that big of a deal," Al said as he turned off the burners. "She didn't really seem that upset about it."

Roy kept an eye on his lover as they ate. For someone who tended to lose his temper at the drop of a hat, he seemed inordinately bothered by what sounded like a simple argument. After the third or fourth grimace Ed directed at the food, the older man finally tapped his foot against his lover's automail leg to get his attention.

Ed blinked up from the food he'd been pushing around and frowned. "What?"

"That's my question. Why are you so upset about it?"

He turned back to his plate and shrugged. "Just . . . don't think I should be yelling at her. I mean," he shoved a bit of chicken into his mouth, "she's y'r mom."

"Uh-huh." Roy bit into a piece of broccoli and waited.

"'Nd I kinda. . . ." He finished the bite. "Kinda . . . said something I shouldn't've."

"Oh?"

Ed grimaced again and tried to hide behind his water glass.

Al sighed and shook his head. "Nii-san, if it's bothering you that much, why don't you go apologize?"

The glass banged back down to the table. "She thinks of me as a kid," he spat. "Some sort of fucking idealistic child."

Roy winced. There was no denying that Ed was an odd mix of maturity and immaturity. While he personally thought the balance tipped to the mature side, he forgot sometimes just how much louder the immaturity could be. Even so, it didn't seem that his mother was being particularly fair. "For what it's worth, I suspect she's seeing what she wants to see."

"Why would she want me to be a child?"

"Maybe 'want' isn't the right word. But it's what she expects to see."

The young man's mouth twisted as he glanced over at his lover. "Why? Just 'cause I'm younger than you?"

Roy set his fork down and folded his arms against the table. "Take a moment and look at our relationship from the outside. Imagine the same situation, but with two people you don't know. What might your first thought be?"

Ed scowled at the table for a moment, then shoved a hand through his hair. "Fuck. It's so stupid. You can't judge someone just by their age."

"You're expecting people to be rational. Rather ironic, coming from you."

He couldn't help but smirk through the wince as Ed's fist connected with his shoulder. "Fuck off, bastard."

"The point still stands," he said as he rubbed his shoulder. "Mother still doesn't know you. It's going to take time."

* * *

Yu hummed to herself as she straightened the room at the embassy that was considered hers. It was busy-work, really, but it helped clear her mind.

Just why was Edward so determined—almost desperate—to learn pharmacy? Did he see his own alchemy as somehow not good enough? Or was it something else?

And just what was this "Gate" he kept referring to?

She had no more answers now than she had had at the beginning of the day, but thinking about these questions kept her from worrying over other things.

Such as why her son had chosen a boy a decade and a half his junior to be his romantic partner.

"‹Hel-looo!›"

Yu dropped the rag in her hand and spun, knocking several books to the floor in the process. She resisted the urge to press herself back against the shelf as she took in the figure sitting calmly on the windowsill.

"‹Sorry to drop in so late,›" the young man said with a cheerful smile. "‹I was passing by and thought I might ask you a few things.›"

"‹Ling of the Yao clan,›" she muttered.

His smile broadened as he slid to the floor. "‹Ah! You know me, then?›"

"‹The prince has quite the reputation,›" she replied. Yu wasn't familiar with all of the emperor's many children, but Ling was ambitious and cunning. Of all her siblings, Mei considered him the biggest threat.

"‹We can skip the pleasantries, then.›" The prince adopted a causal pose against the wall, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"‹What do you mean by coming here?›" she asked, feigning a calm she didn't feel. "‹You can't mean to challenge Mei outright.›"

"‹Of course not. Our dear father frowns on fighting between his children.›"

"‹Why come talk to me?›"

"‹I thought we might be able to help each other.›"

"‹I will tell you now, my loyalties lie with the Chang clan.›"

A fingernail tapped against the sword pommel, and his smile took on a calculating edge. "‹Ah yes. Your father's family legacy, isn't it?›"

"‹And mine.›"

He shrugged. "‹Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Mei or the Chang clan. Our goals just happen to . . . clash a little bit.›"

"‹You're in competition.›"

"‹Not directly. Mei is thinking only of her clan. I want what is best for all of Xing.›"

"‹Meaning you on the throne.›"

"‹I can hardly do what's best if I have no power.›"

"‹And what does that have to do with this old woman?›"

He regarded her for a moment, smile still in place. "‹I want what is best for Xing,›" the prince repeated. "‹Despite marrying an Amestrian, I assume you still have some affection for your birth-country.›" Yu stayed silent. "‹You're in a rather unique position in this embassy.›"

"‹I told you what my loyalties are.›"

"‹I respect those loyalties. I do.›" He looked so sincere that Yu almost believed him. Almost. "‹I would never ask someone to betray their true loyalties.›"

Something in the way he said that made Yu narrowed her eyes. "‹What is it you want, Prince of the Yao clan?›" she said in measured tones.

"‹Tell me,›" he said, deceptively casual as he drew his blade and dug under his fingernails with the tip, "‹does Mei know what it is she seeks?›"

"‹How could she seek it if she did not know it?›"

He waved the sword in a shrug. "‹Oh, people do that sort of thing all the time. When I left Xing, one of our brothers was heading up to the high mountains, chasing after a dream-vision—or a drunk vision. Either way, all he's likely to find is . . . precarious terrain.›"

"‹You're sure of that, are you?›"

He laughed, shouldering his sword and favoring her with a seemingly innocent grin. "‹How could I be? I'm here in Amestris. I only mean that the mountains are known to be treacherous. Especially if one doesn't plan ahead properly.›" He regarded her for a moment. "‹Mei is not so reckless as our sixth brother. I don't believe she would have come all the way here without a firm goal in mind.›"

"‹Be that as it may, I am merely a simple advisor. What would make you think that I am in the princess' confidence?›"

"‹A 'simple advisor' who is not as bound by traditions and loyalties as she claims. One who is in a very unique—and enviable position.›" Ling flicked the tip of the blade, using it to illustrate his words. "‹There are several lines of power here. The military; the Chang clan; two of the strongest alchemist alive today; and another, more subtle thread. Those lines wrap and weave and mingle, but they all converge at the same point.›" He leveled the blade at her, the tip barely a hand's span from her face. Yu bit her tongue to keep from flinching, glaring past the blade to the smiling young man behind it. "‹Despite your words, you are a free agent, Yu Mustang. You could nudge those lines any way you—›"

"Hey!!"

She flinched back and collided with the bookcase as another figure shoved in front of her. She stared wide-eyed at the blond ponytail that was suddenly and inch from her nose, noticing only peripherally that Ling had snatched his sword back barely an instant before Edward's fist had closed around the blade.

The prince eyed the smaller man coolly. "This is not your affair—"

"Oh yeah?" The snarl was clear in his voice. "Well, keep your 'affairs'—" he clapped, "—away from my family." Alchemy flared; when the light faded, there was a good sized blade extending from Ed's right sleeve. He dropped into a defensive crouch, holding the weapon out in front of him. "Got that?"

He'd transmuted part of his automail; the metal hand was clenched in a fist beneath the blade. For a long, tense moment, no one moved. The two young men squared off, neither one overtly threatening the other, but ready to attack or defend. Yu pressed herself against the bookshelf and tried not to breathe, looking from Edward's broad, tense shoulders to Ling's lithe and deceptively relaxed form.

She couldn't say, afterwards, which of them had moved first. Only that one instant they were eyeing each other, and the next they had crashed together with a hideous screech of metal against metal.

They sprang apart—Edward fell back into a defensive posture in front of her, while Ling landed near the window. The prince smiled, a calculating look—then leapt forward.

The smaller man met him head on, deflecting the blade with his forearm and then returning the strike with one of his own, causing the prince to dodge back to keep from getting his nose clipped.

Yu edged along the bookshelf until she could press herself against the wall, never taking her eyes from the two figures in the center of the room, locked in a dance of strikes and blocks. Ling had the advantage of height and his weapon allowed for more dexterity, but Edward wasn't giving an inch of ground. His movements were artless, but sure, his attacks straightforward and guileless compared to the prince's grace, but he was agile and, clearly, experienced. It was like watching a fight between a panther and a wolf.

Ling flicked his sword around, evading Ed's block to come in underneath. Yu gasped, sure that the blond boy wouldn't be able to evade in time—when Ed's arm twisted in a way that wasn't quite human, and caught the blade.

He wrenched the sword from Ling's grip and flung it across the room. With a grin that made him look quite wolf-like indeed, he swung his arm-blade back around—

—As a shadow slithered in through the window. Yu cried out a warning, too late, as a slender blade appeared against Edward's throat.

Ling shrugged, sauntering over to retrieve his sword. "You'll have to forgive Ran Fan. She can be a bit . . . I believe the phrase is 'trigger happy'?"

". . . Uh-huh." He was frozen in place, but the emotion radiating off his tense frame wasn't fear. She got the feeling that he was an instant away from lunging at the attacker, knife be damned.

At a signal from the prince, the masked bodyguard stepped back, the blade vanishing from sight. Edward scowled between the two figures, but lowered his arm blade and stepped back. Not to gain distance from them, Yu realized, but to better guard her. She found herself relaxing slightly behind his reassuring presence.

"Well, this is somewhat awkward," Ling said as he made a show of sheathing his sword. He returned to the center of the room and favored the other young man with a brilliant smile. "Let's try this again: I'm Ling, of the Yao clan, the emperor's twelfth son."

"One of Mei's siblings," Edward muttered.

"If you like. Before our little . . . misunderstanding here, the lady Yu and I were just discussing that very relationship, among other things."

Yu cleared her throat. "I believe we were finished discussing," she said, grateful and more than a little amazed that her voice held steady. "I gave you my answer."

Ling regarded them from behind his smile for a long moment. "Very well. In that case, I'll bid you both good evening."

The prince walked to the window and sprang lightly to the sill, pausing to raise a hand in acknowledgement before disappearing into the shadows of the courtyard. His bodyguard followed with much less ceremony.

There was a heartbeat or two of silence—which Edward then broke by exclaiming, "What the fuck was that about?"

Yu took a deep breath, peeling herself away from the wall. "I'm . . . not entirely sure."

"What did he—"

"One moment." She held up a finger as she crossed to the window. "There may be eaves-hangers."

"Um—you mean 'eavesdroppers.'"

Bracing a hand on casement, she leaned out, twisting around to peer up at the overhang. "Not in this case."

When he leaned out with her, she pointed to the scuff marks on the wooden beams. "Well—shit."

"Mm. They're likely gone, but just in case. . . ." She straightened, pressing a hand to her chest and taking another deep breath. "Besides, I need—something. Tea. I should get some tea." She realized how close she was to babbling and pressed her lips together.

The muffled sound of Ed clapping made her jump. "There's something going on over by the kitchen, I heard it when I passed by." He touched his metal forearm, and Yu noticed an odd grimace cross his face as the blade dissolved back into the automail.

She exhaled audibly. "Well. That seems a bit . . . convenient. I had wondered why no one had come inquiring about the noise." She pushed some loose strands of hair back from her face and shook her head. "Never mind. There is a smaller area we can use."

The little kitchenette was part of the suite of rooms Mei used, but the princess wasn't in residence and Yu didn't think she would mind. Besides, Yu had a feeling she'd be talking with the princess before the evening was out.

The young man watched her with open concern as she set about heating water and preparing the teapot. "You sure you're all right?"

Yu gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just rattled." Frowning, she added, "Which I think was his intent."

"He was threatening you," he growled. The obvious protectiveness startled her.

"Edward—don't think me ungrateful—because, believe me, I am—but, what are you doing here? At this late hour?"

"Oh." He cleared his throat and glanced away, one hand drifting up to scratch his hair. "I, uh, kinda . . . came to apologize."

She was staring, she knew she was, but her system had already had too many shocks this evening to deal with something so seemingly out of character.

A scowl flicked across the boy's face. "Look, I'm not saying it was my fault, I just. . . ." He was staring intently at one of the cabinets. "I shouldn't've . . . said that."

The shrill whistle of the kettle shook her out of her daze and she blinked, turning back to the stove. "I wouldn't say it was entirely your fault, either," she admitted, turning off the heat and flicking open the kettle's spout.

"Hm."

The smirk that briefly pulled at his mouth had a definite smug arrogance about it. Little shit, she found herself thinking, though with a surprising amount of fondness.

"Still," he continued, his expression sobering, "I shouldn't've . . . said what I said."

She finished pouring the water, then reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "I apologize as well."

The grin he flashed was warm and unguarded, and she couldn't help but return with a smile of her own.

Edward jerked his head toward the courtyard. "So what did that Ling guy want? I didn't think there were any more of the emperor's kids with the embassy."

"There aren't," she confirmed. "I don't know when Prince Ling arrived here, but he came on his own." Yu chewed her lip and tapped a fingernail against the counter as she thought. "I'm not sure what he wanted. I know what he said, but . . . I can't see what he thinks he will gain by frightening me."

"You sure he was just trying to frighten you?"

"I believe so. By all accounts, Ling of the Yao clan is not a cruel person. Ruthless, perhaps, and definitely cunning. Unpredictable, maybe. But not cruel. There is nothing to be gained by harming me."

The young man scowled. "I still don't like it."

"Mm." She grabbed two cups and the teapot and motioned to the small table.

Simply pouring the tea and having the warm cup in her hands did much to calm her frayed nerves. She stared at the dance of steam and tried to put her thoughts in order.

Surprisingly, Edward sat and waited quietly. Yu glanced over at the metal fingers that were resting lightly against the delicate porcelain, then to the sleeve that had been torn by the prince's blade. Now that she was looking for it, she could see the unnatural shape of the arm beneath the fabric. She looked away from the prosthetic, to the gold eyes that were watching her with open concern.

"This is going to take some explaining," she finally started. "Xingian politics are . . . complicated."

His eyebrows, always slightly angled, drew down in the middle. "Okay . . . Roy told me some, but. . . ."

"Let me give you a brief overview." She sipped her tea. "Many generations ago, Xing wasn't a single nation but many small, warring nation-states. Borders shifted constantly, but loyalties were firm. The nations didn't even speak the same language." She shook her head. "They still don't. The first emperor of Xing united the nations by force. Many resented him for it. The ruling families of those nation-states became what are today the major clans. Loyalty to the emperor and to all of Xing is supposed to supersede all else, but loyalties to those clans are still strong.

"When a new emperor takes power, he is given a wife by each clan. You've notice that his children all use the name of their mother clan?"

"Yeah, I guess. I thought that was just how it was done over there."

She shook her head. "Not at all. Xing is very patriarchal, much more than Amestris. A woman is expected to cut ties with her birth family when she gets married. My continued closeness to my sister and her family is very unusual."

"Huh."

"The emperor's children, however, are much more loyal to their mother clans than to their father-emperor."

He sipped his tea and seemed to mull over this. "All right, so Mei and this Ling guy are from rival clans."

"Mm, but there's a bit more to it than that. You see, the succession is not a sure thing. Mei comes from one of the least powerful clans, and is female, and so has much less chance than many of her siblings. What she wants is to raise her clan's standing. Ling, on the other hand, has a decent shot at being named the heir."

"Okay. . . ."

"I'm not certain of the subtleties myself. But they are both looking for an edge, and are, at least indirectly, in competition."

"What does that have to do with you?"

Yu sighed, and sipped her tea. "My family—my father's family—had been loyal to the Chang clan for generations. However . . . my father had no sons. Just my sister and me. By Xing tradition, any ties to the Chang clan died with my father." She took another sip. "What's more, by tradition, when a woman gets married, she leaves the family of her birth and becomes part of her husband's family. Completely."

"And you married an Amestrian," he said, slowly.

She nodded. "By custom and by law, I am an Amestrian who happens to have been born in Xing. Ling was simply . . . reminding me that, by that reasoning, I am a free agent."

He studied her for a moment. "It's never that simple."

"No. No matter what tradition dictates, I am still loyal to the Chang clan. Even if I wasn't, at this point I would be loyal to Mei."

"Would Ling know that?"

"He could have guessed it. He knew a great deal of other things about me."

He spread his hands out around his cup, gloved flesh and naked metal making a strange dark mirror of each other. "Okay, so, you can do what you want. Technically. What does it matter?" He paused, briefly. "Ling wants something, or he wouldn't've come here like this."

"I agree. He wants me to help him—at least, that is what he said." She frowned down at the table, drumming her fingers against her cup. "But it can't be that simple." There were several things about Ling's visit that bothered her, but her thoughts were still too scattered to make sense of anything. All she knew was that it didn't add up.

"Fuckin' politics." Edward shoved his hands through his bangs. "Why does everything have so much politics."

Her eyes were drawn to the automail again as it fell back down to the table. She hesitated, then gave in, and made a gesture toward it. "This is . . . rather forward of me, but—may I?"

"Huh? Oh." He shrugged and held out the hand. "Sure."

She took the metal hand between her own and turned it over, nudging the fingers closed, then open. The palm wasn't solid, as she's assumed, but segmented to allow the hand to fold more naturally. There was some intricacy in the first joint of the fingers that allowed them to fan instead of simply moving forward and back. The workings of the thumb were completely beyond her understanding. "Remarkable," she said, turning the hand over to examine the back.

"Yeah," Ed agreed with a half-smile. "Winry does good work."

"That young woman is the one who made this?"

"Uh-huh." He fanned the fingers, then curled them with a faint clicking sound. The back plates slid against each other slightly as the hand tightened into a fist. "This arm is like her masterpiece or something. Guess that's why she's always trying to show it off."

Such as the afternoon of the demonstration.

Yu withdrew her hands. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't."

"Nah, it's all right." He waved the hand dismissively. "I don't really mind. It's just—Winry." He pulled a face. "When she gets to showing off my automail, she kinda forgets that I'm attached to it."

She smiled. "It sort of looked that way, yes."

According to her son's letters, Edward had had prosthetics since he was eleven or twelve years old; curiosity nibbled at her, and she wanted to ask, but she held off. "That arm must be quite useful, though," she said instead. "And I can see you have a lot of experience using it—you even held your own against Prince Ling, that was quite impressive."

His mouth twisted into a grimace. "I got lucky. He was feeling me out, and I caught him by surprise. I doubt I'd get that lucky a second time—I'm really out of practice." He poked dubiously at his torn sleeve. "Gonna have to explain this to Roy when I get home, I know he's gonna ask. He'll probably freak out. . . ."

"Ah—actually, I think I'd prefer you not tell him, just yet."

He stared at her blankly for a second. Then burst out with, "I can't keep things from Roy."

"I understand your reluctance, but—"

"No, you don't get it." His arms waved, though she wasn't sure if it was to illustrate a point or from nervous energy. "I can't keep things from him 'cause he always knows. It's like he can—I dunno—read my mind or something."

"—Um."

"He used to be able to tell what time of day I took a crap three towns over—"

"That was more than I wanted to know," she muttered.

"—I didn't mean it like—fuck, I don't even know how you took that." His arms dropped back to the table. "But if I try to keep something from him he'll know—and he'll find some way to find out anyway."

"Edward." She reached across the table and took his hands. The metal felt alien under her fingers but she wrapped her hand around it anyway. "I'll tell him myself. I will. I just want to talk to Mei first." What she wanted was time to decide just what to tell him, but she kept that to herself.

He let out his breath in an audible sigh. "Well . . . all right. He's not gonna like me putting him off, though." One corner of his mouth pulled back into a smile. "He's really going to freak when he finds out, though. Probably want to hunt that Ling guy down. . . ."

"I'll have to see if I can dissuade him of that." She smiled and gave his hands a squeeze before pulling back. "This is mostly a Xingian matter. I don't want to involve Amestris any more than necessary."

He frowned at her, his concern returning. "Are you sure you'll be okay tonight?"

"I doubt Ling will be coming back. But even so," she continued, gesturing to the room beyond the kitchenette, "I'll stay with Mei tonight. Ling wouldn't attack her outright, and if someone else does—well, she's not one to be taken lightly."

"Hm."

She got the feeling that no amount of assurance would put him at ease. In a way, it was touching. "Truly, I'll be fine." She gestured to his sleeve. "You might trigger fewer questions if you fixed that."

"Oh." He poked at the tears again. "Yeah. I guess."

His reluctance made her remember the look on his face as he had fixed his arm, and she reached into her pocket for the piece of chalk she always carried with her. "Allow me?"

"Huh? Oh, okay."

He seemed all too willing to let someone else perform the alchemy. But instead of asking, like she wanted to, Yu merely smiled and sketched out the array.

It was not exactly a simple transmutation; torn fibers had very little "memory," and didn't always behave. Even if the threads did transmute back where they should, the fabric tended to be weaker in there. But she had gotten a fair amount of practice with this type of repair over the years, and in the end the torn sleeve at least looked as good as new.

"You're still short a glove, however," she commented as Ed inspected the mended garment. "I suppose that's back on the floor of my room somewhere."

"Probably," he agreed. "It's never worth trying to save those, anyway. They usually end up too far gone."

"You must go through a lot of gloves."

He smiled ruefully. "Well, not as many as I used to, at least. Al used to say we should find a way to buy gloves in bulk, except that then he'd be the one stuck carrying them around."

He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. "I better be getting back, or Roy'll definitely think something's wrong."

"All right. I'll be fine here, honest."

Edward took a few steps toward the door, then paused. Yu looked up from smudging out her array to find him frowning thoughtfully.

"Look," he said. He turned back, and looked over to her with eyes that were far too old. "I know what it's like to be away from home—and away from family. I shouldn't've said that . . . 'cause I know that can't've been how it was."

They regarded each other for a long moment. Yu was stunned at how this boy could go from being an immature brat to someone who looked like he had carried the weight of the world. She finally sighed, and nodded. "It seems I am destined to miss either my home, or my son."

His hands slipped into his pockets. "Can't be easy to have to choose like that."

"No. It isn't."

He gave her crooked smile, which she returned, and then turned to leave.

Yu poured herself some more tea and waited for Mei.