Waiting: Mother Arc: Prologue

Background: This is set a little over a year after "A Change in Routine," and they've been in East City for about half that time. Roy has had his rank and title restored, and was transferred to East to take Lt. General Grumman's position after Grumman retired. Ed works for the military as an "independent contractor," a position which they more or less created on the spot so that they didn't lose him entirely. Not as many perks and not as much pay as a full state alchemist, but not as many obligations, either. Al . . . I'm not sure what Al does with his time, I'll have to get back to you on that.

The first letter was a formal notice from the Xingian embassy, addressed to East City Command; with it had come a personal letter addressed to him. Roy read them both over for the third time, lay them on his desk, stared at them a moment, then glanced at the clock. Sighing, he folded the letters and tucked them in his pocket, then made his way out of the office.

"Sir?"

"I'm going to lunch, Lieutenant Marcus. I'll be back around thirteen-thirty."

The man nodded crisply. "Yes, sir."

Roy waited a beat, and then asked, "When would my next appointment be, Lieutenant?"

"Fourteen hundred. Sir."

Roy nodded, giving his aide a measuring stare, but decided not to comment on the thinly veiled contempt. Commanding officers had aides so they didn't have to remember mundane things like schedules. How he missed Hawkeye.

But the lack of his former staff wasn't what preoccupied him as he headed for the library. The two letters seemed to sit heavily in his pocket, weighing much more than a few pieces of paper ought.

"Absolutely not!"

He looked up from his musings to see his lover storming down the library steps, followed by a young woman with a librarian's name tag.

"Elric-san—"

"No!"

"Listen a sec—"

"I said no!"

"But—"

Edward rounded on her, and Roy had to give her credit for not running scared. She did draw back a little, pulling her hands to her chest and looking down at the scowling blond with wide eyes. "No, no, no! I don't want anyone writing about me!" He turned back around and stomped down the last few steps.

The woman bit her lip and tugged on the end of her braid where it fell over her shoulder, then blurted out, "I don't need your permission!"

Ed froze, then turned back. "What??"

"To write about you." She tugged on the braid again. "I don't need your permission."

"The fuck you don't!"

She winced, but held her ground. "No, I don't. Not legally."

"I'm afraid the young lady's right," Roy interjected, coming up along side Edward as the smaller man sputtered. "You're a public figure. That makes you fair game for journalists and writers."

"The hell?" Ed turned to glare up at him. "What do you mean, I'm fair game? I never tried to be a public figure!"

"Unfortunately, that's just how the system works."

"You've been a public figure ever since you made a name for yourself as a state alchemist." The librarian, both hands now tugging on her hair, hesitantly walked down the last few steps. "People have already written about you. However, a lot of it seems to be conjecture or even outright fabrication. That's why I want your cooperation."

"You wish to be the truth among the lies." Roy gave her a smile, nodding. "I admire that."

She smiled shyly, looking away as she twisted the braid around her fingers. "Nothing so noble, I just have a thing about accuracy. And, y'know," she glanced at Edward, "I thought you might want at least one thing out there that's not full of bullshit."

Ed opened his mouth, closed it, then scrubbed his fingers through his bangs. "Arrgh—fine! Write your fucking book! But I get final say on what goes in it!"

"Of course!" She beamed, and Roy thought she might yank the braid off entirely. "That's the whole point! Can you meet me after I get off work today? Oh, no, I don't have my notebook—tomorrow? I get off at three, would that work?"

"Yeah, fine, whatever, I'm going to be here doing research anyway."

"Great!" She bounced on her toes, finally letting go of her hair. "I'll see you tomorrow, then—thank you so much!" With that she turned and raced back up to the library.

Edward watched her go, then turned and gave Roy a piteous look. "What have I gotten myself into?"

The older man chuckled. "At least she was courteous enough to ask first."

"Has there really been stuff written about me?"

"Mm. Articles, mostly. A few longer pieces. You're lucky the people who knew you best aren't inclined to talk to reporters, or there would be a lot more."

"Fuck."

"Mm."

They ate lunch at a small café near the library. Halfway through the meal Roy realized Ed was staring at him. "What?"

"That's my question," the blond replied. "What's eating you?"

"I don't know what you. . . ." He trailed off and sighed when Ed gave him a look. Part of him missed the days when he could hide things from the young man. But only part. "Very well. This came today." He pulled the letters out and handed the other man the first one.

"Huh," Edward said as he skimmed the letter. "I didn't even know we had a Xingian embassy."

"It's been vacant; Xing hasn't wanted to deal with us for some time. Given Fuhrer Bradley's attitude toward our neighboring countries, I can't say I blame them."

"So what's the problem?" He waved the letter and gave him a confused look. "Even I can see that this could be a huge political advantage for you. I mean, shit, they're staying in East City. They're not even going to Central."

"Actually, I'm going to have to play this very carefully. Having blood ties to Xing could work against me."

"Really?"

Roy smiled at his lover's naïvet&eacute. "Yes, really; but that's not what's bothering me." He passed the second letter across the table. "This came with it."

This time as he read his eyebrows rose. "This is. . . ."

"From my mother, yes."

"Your mother's coming along?"

"So it seems."

"And they'll be here in—" he skimmed the first letter again, "—less than two weeks??"

"Mm."

"Fuck."

They fell silent for a moment while Roy ate and Ed stared at the letters.

"What does she mean, 'I look forward to meeting your friend'?" the younger man said slowly.

"I did mention you in my last letter."

"So that's good, right? I mean, she said she's looking forward to it."

"She could just be being polite. She referred to you as my 'friend'; not 'lover,' or 'boyfriend,' or 'partner,' or any other word that implies intimacy."

"Oh. So I guess that could be bad?"

The older man heaved a sigh. "I wish I knew. Views on sexual orientation haven't exactly come up in any of our correspondences." His mother's reaction to his choice in partners wasn't the only thing worrying him, but for now he kept that to himself.

Edward shoved the last of his sandwich in his mouth and contemplated the letter some more. "Hey, what's this at the bottom?" he said through the last of his bite, pointing to the glyph next to the scrawled Love, Mom.

"That? It's her name, Yu, in Xingian calligraphy."

Ed quirked an eyebrow at him. "Your mother's name is 'you'?"

Roy rolled his eye. "Not 'you,' Yu." He wondered if the young man could even hear the difference.

"Huh."

The older man sighed again and held his hand out for the letters. "I'm going to be too busy getting ready for the arrival of the embassy to worry too much, though. You did notice that it includes one of the emperor's children?"

Edward folded the letters and passed them back. "Yeah, I saw that. Does the emperor really have seventeen kids?"

"He has at least seventeen daughters. That doesn't count his sons."

"Holy shit. . . ."

"Hm." He smiled. "The emperor has a wife from each clan. They each have at least one child, usually more. But anyway, I need to get back to work, or Lieutenant Marcus will try to drown me with his contempt."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to put up with that asshole?"

"I don't have the clout to request a new staff based on personality differences." He shrugged, and stood. "It's not so bad; at least he's honest about how he feels."

Ed snorted, sitting back in his chair. "Whatever. I'll be heading home, so I'll see you tonight."

"Don't forget to make dinner."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Ed didn't forget, but only because Al came home an hour before Roy and reminded him. This of course meant Al helped with dinner, which was fine except for one thing.

". . . So the emperor has, like, a bazillion children, and one of them is coming along—no, Al, I already put seasoning in—"

"But it looks bland—"

"How can something 'look' bland—give me that!"

"Hey!"

Ed grabbed for the spice jar but Al held it out of his reach, which was just annoying—his "little brother" should not be taller than he is, dammit, especially now that he was (physically) six years younger.

"Nii-san—stop that—you're going to upset the pot—ow!—like last time!"

"I wouldn't—if you'd just—give me the fucking thing!"

"Okay, okay! I'll put it away, just—let go—"

Edward relented but stood guard in front of the stove until Alphonse had put the spices back into the cabinet. "Spice your own bowl."

"It's not the same if it's not cooked with it."

"Tough shit."

"So why is this princess—what was her name?—coming here?"

"Don't remember what her name was," Ed said as he stirred the stew, "but the letter said she was interested in some sort of cultural exchange involving alchemy."

"Really? There's so little written about Xingian alchemy . . . but I think it was primarily developed for medical purposes."

"Huh . . . y'know, I think Marcoh always used the Stone. I wonder. . . ."

The brothers got so deep in conversation that the elder one didn't even notice the door open, didn't notice the other person in the room, not until fingers brushed against the back of his neck.

"But how would—heek!" He jumped and spun, already glaring at the culprit. "Roy!"

The dark-haired man chuckled in that annoying and so very sexy (halt thought, little brother in the room) way he had. "With the way you startle at times I'm surprised you lived past your teen years."

Ed scowled. "It's only because I'm so used to you, you bastard." He turned back, then elbowed Roy in the gut when the older man had the audacity to come closer. "If it had been a stranger, I would've noticed."

"Roy-san, is your mother really coming here?"

"So it seems." He sounded pained and Ed rolled his eyes. He hadn't hit him that hard.

"You don't seem very excited about it," Al said hesitantly.

"No, I am, it's just . . . the last time we saw each other was just after Ishval, and . . . a lot has happened since then."

Edward pressed his lips together, and this time when Roy came up behind him to put arms around his shoulders, he didn't push him away.

After dinner, Roy pulled out an old photograph to show them. In it was a woman with long black hair and dark, slanted eyes, standing next to a man in a military uniform and holding a black-haired little boy in her arms.

"Well, weren't you just adorable," Edward cooed. Roy gave him a look, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, and Ed grinned.

"That's your mother?" Alphonse leaned over Roy's other side to get a better look. "You take after her."

"Mm. Something I was not always happy with, to be honest."

"Why not? She's so pretty."

"This goes back to that 'fitting in' thing, doesn't it?"

The older man nodded. "There aren't too many people with Xingian ancestry in Amestris."

"No, I get it, I used to hate that I looked like Hohenheim."

Al rolled his eyes. "That's just because you hated Dad."

"No, that's not—okay, that was part, but it wasn't the whole reason. It wasn't!" he said to his brother's skeptical look. "It made me stand out. Have you ever seen anyone else with piss-yellow eyes or this funky shade of blond?" He tugged on the end of his ponytail.

"Piss-yellow. . . ."

"Oh, Nii-san, it's not that bad. You don't stand out . . . much. . . ."

"Thanks, Al."

"Well," Al said as he scratched the back of his head, "you were teased about it when we were kids, but. . . ."

"You really. . . ." Roy started again.

"It's not bad, it just makes you . . . different?"

"That's how you see yourself?"

"At least your eyes are consistent, mine can't even decide what color they are."

"Lots of people have eyes that change color. Nobody else's are piss-yellow like this, even Dad's weren't, really, his were darker—"

"Will you stop calling them 'piss-yellow'??"

"Why?"

"It's . . . derogatory." The older man was giving him an incredulous look. "I can't believe you actually see yourself like that."

Edward rolled his eyes and muttered, "How else am I supposed to see myself?" but shook his head when his lover started to say something more. "Never mind. This photograph's old, though, don't you have anything more recent of her?"

"There might be, let me see. . . ."

They spent the rest of the evening looking at photographs. It seemed Roy hadn't looked at most of them in years.

"Isn't your mom kinda old to be crossing the desert like this?" Ed asked as they got ready for bed.

"She's fifty-eight, and I'm sure she'd be insulted if you called her old."

"Whatever, that's hardly young." He looked a moment at the distant, tight expression on the dark-haired man's face and sighed. "You're worried 'bout what she'll think of me, huh," he commented as he pulled the blankets back and sat on the bed. "I could try to, y'know, behave around her."

Roy paused after removing his eye patch and looked at him.

"Y'know, give a good impression." He pulled the covers up and stretched his legs out beneath them. "I really can behave."

The older man laughed and set the patch on the bedside table, then leaned over and cupped the back of the younger one's skull and pressed a kiss to his temple. "One of the things I love about you is how you're never anything but yourself. Don't try to change that for something like this."

"But. . . ."

Roy shook his head, rubbing his forehead against the other man's hair. "Besides, we both know you'd be horrible at it." He laughed again and jumped back when Ed punched his shoulder. "But I appreciate the thought."

Edward watched as the older man turned off the lamp and then slipped under the covers. "You're still worried about it."

Roy sighed, looking at him in the dark, and at length said, "I'm worried about what she'll think of me."

Ed opened his mouth, closed it, then scooted over and wrapped his arms around his lover.