Leave A Scar

Mustang hadn't been mentioned since the letter we sent off weeks ago. But as soon as we began moving towards Rush Valley, Ed spoke of meeting with the Brigadier again.

"Central's on the way, so it'll just take a moment." And we left it at that.

Central... We were back here, and it was raining again.

We were in Central again, and even underneath Command Center's roof, the rain didn't stop.

I watched the droplets patter against Mustang's window, and I felt an impact against those walls. The walls I'd spent months building, shaping into a fortress.

It was something I hated myself for. Here we were, spending all this time searching. Coming up with nothing but more damn questions, more pathways that lead to blocked walls and no exits.

"So you've come running back with your tail between your legs," Mustang said, directing our attention to a piece of paper by pushing it forward. "What does the honor?"

"Well," Ed began, reaching a hand to the back of his hair, "it's more of a question on Alchemy. I was wondering if you knew anything—or knew someone that knew about change in transmutation light."

Mustang raised a brow.

"What type of change?"

"Red," Ed said. "Specifically."

"I've never encountered any change of red." Mustang mused, hand to his chin. He thought with his stare down, and then his hand flourished outwards. It just reminded me of the motion the female Homunculus gave. Way back in Dublith, a complaint of a busted door with Al chained against the wall.

I missed whatever speculation Mustang gave, but Ed gave a small bow.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Allow me to speak to you in private, Fullmetal."

After a minute or two, Ed came out of Mustang's office with his face red and hair slightly distressed. Golden layers sticking out here and there. I wanted to extend my hand, smooth his hair out. It wasn't like Ed to get so... Shaken.

"Ed...?" Al and I hovered close by, my finger reaching out and poking his cheek twice.

Ed just put his chin up and breathed in.

"Fine," he said, slinging his suitcase over his shoulder. "Everything's cool. He just... had a few questions."

Steam was practically rising from his face as he walked away, back to us and his head billowing heat like coals gathering smoke on a train. Al and I conversed among ourselves.

"What'd you think Mustang wanted to talk to him about?"

"Who knows," I replied, keeping my mouth hidden with my hand. "It's probably guy stuff anyway."

"True..."

"BROTHER!" Ed flew, spinning as the suitcase exploded as well. "WHAT GUY STUFF DID MUSTANG ASK YOU ABOUT?!"

Ed growled between sharp teeth, boxers landing on the side of his glaring face.

I laughed behind my hand, Ed grinning a little as he leaned back on one foot, taking the shorts off his face. He folded it against his ċhėst once, twice, three times as he stood upright again. With a toss, the shorts landed perfectly in the suitcase.

"No 'guy stuff'," he began. "Just had a few questions about progress and reporting. Asked why I didn't include anything about drawing—"

And at the sound of my name, my world came back to me. The castle, the labyrinth I had made, the stone-territory I had enclosed myself in. I let my hand fall away from my mouth, fingers curled to hover by my chin and lower lip.

We stepped out into open air again, a dreary overcast settling over our heads. I just imagined the last time we'd walked, passing by streetlights and holding onto a metal arm.

"Time changes things," Ed said suddenly, his voice hushed, a smile inside those words, "but some things stay at minute 'til sunrise."

I looked over at him, and then I saw the building behind him. Mr. Melvin's Marvelous Ice Cream. All twenty-three flavors, ready for the taking.

"You ready for another stomach ache?" I asked, and that question spawned from in between some inner-wall. Some warm part of me, wanting to reach out into the past again.

Ed just grinned.

And just like that, we were eating ice cream again.

"What're you going to do about next year's report?" Alphonse asked as I dug in with my spoon and Ed with his lips. I watched as his mouth enveloped one of the twelve scoops, watched how those golden eyes brought a fluttered warmth to my stomach. Just from a rather blank gaze, like he was expecting me to answer his younger brother.

Edward pulled back, swallowing, and I watched how his neck moved from the motion. I watched how his tongue peaked out from the space between his teeth as he spoke, and my mind never registered the words.

Alphonse nodded. "Sounds good."

"Are you ready for another scoop?" The owner of the shop—the same one that had opened his doors late at night with Ed's promise to eat all of the flavors—came up to us, cheeks red and mouth beaming a smile.

Ed grinned, the same memory playing in his brain, too.

"I'm good for now," he said, motioning with his twelve scoops. Originally twelve, that is.

"Alrighty!!" The owner gave me a smile, and offered another scoop in a cup. "Free ice cream, on the house!"

I feigned a dumbstruck smile.

"O-of course."

And just like that, I was stuck with more food.

I kept picking at my single raspberry, chipping away at the mountain and wondering what Ed would do tonight for dinner, ȧssuming we were staying in Central for the night. I was getting rather tired of train trolley treats...

How's that for a tongue-twister?

"Something on your mind?"

I tried to hide the smile, but Ed had already caught me red handed.

"N-nothing!" I said, "Just wondering what we'll do for dinner."

Ed pointed a finger, saying something about lobster in Dublith. I breathed out, smiling, thankful he could mention that city without a crack in such a happy expression.

For once, I saw Ed's strength and began to mold it into my own.

I owed him that much, at the least.