Chapter Text
As a rule, Ling Yao made a habit of never thinking about things a minute more than necessary. In the broad majority of circumstances, he could trust in and rely on his instincts with much more surety than any cognitive conclusion, and when normal life meant weekly would-be assassins and frequent vacillations between high-energy mania and bone-deep exhaustion, thinking things through was a rarely-afforded luxury. He was often too busy jumping from one pinpoint focus to the next — formal ceremony training, to calligraphy lessons, to sparring and sword arts, back to the family court to sit in on hearings (in which someone would inevitably poison his tea) — to spend time making plans and hypotheses.
Which wasn’t to say that he couldn’t think when he had the time and due cause! Contrary to popular belief (if many of the unpleasant whispers in the court were to be believed), Ling was very far from being an idiot. Oh, his intellect wasn’t anything to boast about, not like Jie Long the battle strategist, or Hong Wu the brilliant mathematician, or even little Mei Chang, the prodigal alkhestrist. But considering that two of those siblings had been killed when Ling was barely into double-digits, he’d take his instincts over their smarts any day.
But to the point! Ling was actually quite good at situational analysis, when the occasion called for it, and just about everything about their current predicament simply begged for a good round of serious thought.
The space itself was absolutely fascinating — one minute, he had been dressing after a sparring session, blindly looking for a comb while Lan Fan deftly retied her hair beside him (ooh, he envied being able to do that, court styles were so frustrating to maintain), and the next they were in a strange white space unlike anything he’d ever seen. They’d been greeted by their apparent host, a being without solid form and — more curiously — an incredibly bizarre chi signature. It had beckoned them into the room, where Ling had immediately beelined for his little half-sister when he saw her. (He didn’t know Mei Chang very well — not like he knew Wei Yin and Mai Fa, back when they were both alive — but she’d never tried to kill him and he her, so that was already better than his relationship with most of their shared siblings).
There had been two others already present when he arrived — a large suit of armor, speaking in the voice of a boy maybe a year or so Ling’s junior, and a leather-clad man with a very wide, toothy grin. The two had been in the middle of an avid discussion that Ling was more than surprised to understand, given that they clearly weren’t his countrymen. He hadn’t had a chance to compliment either of them on their flawless Xingese before the host introduced itself as ‘the Truth, among other things’, and explained that within the space, everyone would hear each other in their own native languages unless a conscious effort was made. It hadn’t explained what type of conscious effort that might be.
That was okay, Ling didn’t mind being able to easily understand his new company. He'd wondered, briefly, what he must sound like in their language — Drachman, maybe? The two were hard to place in terms of ethnicity.
Once the others arrived, of course, he amended that particular supposition — the military uniforms were all clearly Amestrian, and the boy in the armor greeted a number of the arriving officers with good cheer and by name. Maybe he was from a military family? Ling had to wonder at what parents would let their son walk around in such a large contraption, since it clearly wasn’t the right size for his body, but it wasn’t his place to ask either. One woman — not in uniform, but with an expression fiercer than most of the officers present — actually hit the boy’s armor before scolding him in a voice just barely too low to hear. Maybe the boy’s mother? Ling would have been jealous, but that hit looked like it must have hurt even through the metal.
As more and more people arrived, the man in leather leaned over to look at Ling. “So, how’d you all get roped up in this, huh?”
That was quite the question, wasn’t it? “In all honesty, I’m not really sure! We have no connection to the Amestrian military, as everyone here seems to. Why, we’re not even from Amestris!” Granted, they’d had plans in motion to begin traveling by the end of the week, but that hardly seemed relevant. After all, it hadn’t happened yet.
“Yeah, I figured. Xing, right?” The guy grinned, showing off impossibly pointy teeth. “Some good shit, over there. I’ve wanted to visit for ages.”
Well, surely it had to be rude to discourage travelers. “Perhaps when this strange experience is over, you should come visit!”
"Hah! You can bet on that, pretty boy."
Really, Ling wasn't too sure what to make of that, so perhaps it was for the better that their host finally arrived with the last person — a rather small boy with hair and skin almost unmistakably Xerxian, despite clearly being from Amestris by the way he greeted the armored boy ('brother', which meant the frightening woman probably wasn't their mother after all) and the uniformed officers. The conversation was just ending, anyways, so better that he didn't have to think of a reply. Really, it was probably for the best — Ling wasn't exactly 'pretty' by any standards, he knew that very well. Eyes just a bit too narrow and slanted, even for someone of pure Xingese descent, cursed with an early growth spurt and otherwise fairly plain features — if anything, the golden boy was much prettier than him. Honestly, Ling could see his eyelashes across the room, that had to be unfair somehow!
Ooh, right, that was the other reason he tried not to think too much. Thinking only lead to more thinking, and pretty soon he'd just be going in useless circles around topics that had nothing to do with what he'd been thinking about in the beginning. Like pretty boys who happened to have the form of a perfect being, and jumped between emotions the same way Ling's thoughts tended to jump from point to point like frogs and— where was he?
Right, thinking. Awfully messy, really. Better to avoid it when he could.
The whole sequence of payment (whatever that meant), introductions, explanations, etc. etc. passed by fairly quickly once he wasn't focusing too much on any of it. Or at least, not focusing as much. He made sure to pay attention to everyone's names — and there were quite a lot of them, weren't there? But his group seemed to be the only ones from another country, which was rather odd — though there were definitely some people among the collective Amestrians that seemed to have similarly foreign heritage, like Colonel Mustang and the frightening woman (Izumi Curtis — which didn't sound like an Amestrian name, for sure). The golden boy was Edward Elric, apparently — Ling felt as though he should remember that, somehow. Perhaps someone had mentioned him in court? A child in the military, especially at the rank of major, probably would have been worth the behind-screen whispers and rumors of the Xingese courts. That was probably it.
He certainly didn't look happy to be there. Most everyone else were in varying states of bemusement and curiosity, to be sure, but as far as Ling could tell Edward was the only one who appeared genuinely — well, freaked out. Going by his demeanor, he seemed to have some sort of previous experience with the strange 'Truth' being, though Ling couldn't understand what about it would have left him quite so out of sorts. He'd mentioned it taking limbs, which certainly didn't make sense — after all, he still clearly had his arms and legs.
Now was not the time to ponder that, though! The ambient lighting of the room dimmed, particularly intriguing due to the apparent lack of light sources, and the absolutely gargantuan screen before them began to grow brighter as music suddenly echoed around the room. Impressive, considering there weren’t any visible speakers or wires.
Before the screen could show more than what looked like some sort of strange archaic illustration, however, it paused rather abruptly. The still image looked a bit like some sort of tree root system, if you asked Ling — an odd main stalk, with off-branches leading to circles of some sort. There was writing, too, marking it as some sort of diagram, but the text wasn't in any language he was familiar with. The characters looked similar to Amestrian, but the words seemed to be pretty much nonsense — either it was an archaic predecessor of the language, or from some other country that used the same script.
More than one person seemed to be looking around in confusion, and the 'Truth' figure sighed loudly. With a snap of its fingers, the room's lighting returned to its previous brightness, and it turned to look at the golden boy (Edward, come on, remember names) with what almost seemed like sheepishness.
"I apologize for the false start, but I realized our first episode will be taking place a good bit earlier than anticipated. Edward Elric, I believe you will be rather more comfortable without your 'Fullmetal' for the duration of this installment, if you would permit me to temporarily remove it?"
His Fullmetal? Now that was confusing — did the creature mean the boy's title? The 'Fullmetal Alchemist', as he'd introduced himself— yes, Ling was certain he'd heard that somewhere, but for the life of him the when and how were refusing to present themselves. It certainly seemed like an ironic title, considering that the younger brother was the one wearing a suit of archaic armor. And Ling was allowed to call it archaic, he'd studied history and he knew nobody had worn things like those for at least two centuries!
Edward scowled, apparently unaware of the multiple concerned looks being shot his direction (Ling could see the blond girl with the wrench, the old woman, and the Xingese-looking Colonel all exchanging dismayed expressions). "And how do I know I'll get it back? That stuff costs a goddamn fortune, you know."
"Alchemy, and all rules thereof, are... flexible, shall we say, in my domain." The Truth grinned, just a touch too wide.
"Which means what, bastard?"
Wow, he really was awfully antagonistic towards their host, wasn't he? Seemed a bit unwise, to say the least. The Truth just continued grinning in response, though, so maybe it wasn't offended? "I can temporarily remove it, and return it to its previous condition as soon as the episode is over. Considering the past events you will likely be reliving over the next half hour or so, I am of the opinion that avoiding any risk of your wounds re-healing in unforeseen ways would be the wisest course of action."
"Wait, we're— shit." Edward grimaced, something dark and unpleasant flickering across his face too quickly for Ling to catch. "What about Al, then?"
"He won't feel a thing, worry not."
This was starting to seem awfully heavy — what sort of past events were they going to be seeing, for this sort of thing to be a concern? Sure, Ling probably wasn't the best judge of a normal childhood, but he'd wager a guess that they weren't supposed to include any sort of serious wounds. (Of course, his had been filled with training accidents and perpetual bruises and a few old knife scars from assassins that managed to get through the guards, so he really shouldn't be the one judging these things). Edward looked rather anxious, now, underneath the scowl and grimace and general prickliness, and— so sue him, Ling was starting to be genuinely intrigued. It wasn't every day he got to meet such interesting people, and it really was beginning to seem like he'd just been introduced to quite a few.
The golden boy sighed and waved a hand, apparently acquiescing. "Fine, just get it over with. Blood all over my ports sounds like a pain."
Ling had barely enough time to comprehend — ports, like machine ports, like something mechanical — before the Truth snapped its fingers again, and Edward's right sleeve and left pant leg abruptly deflated.
He blinked a few times.
Nope, definitely not seeing things — especially if the exclamations of surprise going around the room are any indication. Did two of Edward's limbs just disappear? How was that possible? The boy himself didn't seem particularly bothered, tugging off his jacket and shirt to reveal a black tank-top and a scarred stump where his right arm should have joined with his shoulder. Around him, his brother carefully collected the now-empty boot and sock, placing them neatly next to the foot of the couch — like the fact that his brother was missing an arm and a leg was just business as usual. If anything, they both seemed more perturbed by the state of the scar than the lack of a limb.
"Wow!" Alphonse's voice, high and echoing oddly within his armor, sounded almost impressed. "Even the ports are gone! Are any of the internal bits still there?"
Edward flexed his shoulder muscles a few times (which really should be illegal, if you asked Ling), prodding at the skin around his stump in awe. "Not a trace. No bolts, no wires, nothing. Feels so fucking light, it's almost scary."
The blonde girl, another couch down, was glaring at the Truth. "You better put those back in properly when this is done! That surgery took me almost a week, you know!"
"Wha—" Edward turned to look at her in betrayal. "—Hey, that's my line! I'm the one who had to feel all of it!"
"Do you realize how little I slept that week?"
He rolled his eyes, making an aborted motion to cross his arms before seeming to realize he couldn't quite make the gesture work with only one. "Get some metal screws drilled into your bones, and then we can talk about missing sleep, crazy gearhead!"
"You little—"
"Holy shit, you have automail prosthetics?"
Both teens paused, turning to look at the source of the interruption — when Ling turned as well, it was to the sight of the military Sergeant from Central City, leaning half off his seat and gaping like a very large catfish. What had his name been, something about a brush?
He wasn't the only one in a state of apparent shock, wonder, perplexity, and/or general curiosity. A furtive glance around the room revealed that knowledge of Edward's prosthetics had been a minority-kept secret, relatively speaking. Alphonse clearly knew, of course, as well as the blonde girl and her grandmother — did she just imply she'd been the one to do the surgery? That couldn't be right, automail took a ridiculously long time to integrate and she couldn't have been any older than Ling himself.
Oddly enough, the frightening Ms. Curtis didn't seem to have been aware, which cast a further shadow of confusion over her whole apparent relationship with the Elric boys. And, in directly contrast, both the Colonel Mustang and his sharp-eyed Lieutenant showed no signs of surprise— actually, most of the officers from 'Eastern Command' seemed relatively nonplussed, along with the bespectacled man from Central who'd waxed so poetic about his wife and daughter. Goodness, Ling really hoped there would be another opportunity to go over names, because he certainly couldn't remember most of them!
Like he'd said — thinking, far too much trouble when there were more interesting things to focus on.
Edward grimaced, shifting in apparent discomfort (Ling could only imagine it would be unsettling, being so unbalanced out of nowhere). "Yeah, I've got prosthetics. What of it, huh?"
The Sergeant looked a little puzzled. "What? No, I just- that's so metal, you know?"
"Was that a fucking pun?"
"Brother!" This time, Alphonse's tinny voice sounded reproachful. "Be nice, honestly!"
"He made a fucking crack at my automail!"
"It was a compliment, and you know it!"
A long-suffering sigh interrupted the growing argument, and Ling glanced towards the Truth where it appeared to be... pinching the bridge of its nose in frustration. Or what would be its nose, if it had one? Come to think of it, why was it shaped like that anyways? It certainly didn't appear to be human, so was there a reason why it was taking the shape of one? And if it was taking human form, why was it still so vague, without facial features or any definition beyond the basic structure of a body?
Oh, Ling had so many questions to ask—
"If you're all quite finished, I believe we're prepared to begin properly?"
On the couch beside him, the man in leather— Greed, he'd been introduced as— rolled his eyes and leaned back in a cat-like stretch. "Seems like it keeps saying that, and then nothing happens."
The Truth shot him a look that admittedly probably would have been more intimidating if it had eyes.
On the floor, Edward groaned. "Fine, fine, let's get it over with. Anyone mind if I take my pants off?" A few snickers broke out, mostly from the couch his blond friend was sitting on, and he glowered in their direction. "Not like that, fucking— Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of leather? Fucking hard! And it's expensive!"
"Oh, stop complaining, I'm sure this guy can just— I don't know, alchemy it away, or something."
"It will be managed." Apparently trying to cut off the argument before it could get into full swing (really, these people were so hotheaded! Not at all like Ling, of course, he was totally and one hundred percent the definition of cool and collected and why was Lan Fan looking at him with that expression), the Truth waved a hand and a stack of neatly folded towels popped into place beside Edward, dark brown in color. "Is that acceptable?"
"Look, if I'm gonna start bleeding, I don't want to be wearing these. Could I at least change 'em for something less- y'know?"
Another wave, and the leather was replaced by a set of what looked like sleep pants, patterned with red-and-purple boxes. In Ling's opinion, they appeared quite comfortable, though something cheerful like yellow or orange would've been a better color. Goodness, this Truth could do some very impressive things!
"Better?"
The boy grumbled but nodded, shuffling so that he was seated on one towel with the rest within easy reach of his remaining arm. "Fine. Go ahead."
That seemed to be all that was needed, as the room immediately dimmed once more and the screen came to life.
Ling had to blink a few times as the images started playing, trying to make sense of the double-helix pattern displayed as a voice — an older man, as far as he could tell — began explaining the basic premise of this 'alchemy' everyone kept discussing. From what the voice was saying, it certainly didn't seem similar to alkhestry, though of course Ling was hardly an expert in that either. Some of the images shown were pretty strange, too— that red orb, with what looked like screaming faces trapped inside it? Eugh, shivers.
He could hear whispers breaking out around the room, responding to the visuals. The moment two children with golden hair were shown on-screen, Mrs. Curtis almost jumped out of her seat— from what Ling could see of her face, she looked absolutely furious. "You fucking didn't! Tell me you fucking didn't!"
Seated on the floor, Edward appeared to be staunchly avoiding her gaze. Alphonse, on the other hand, turned to look at the woman with hunched shoulders. "I'm sorry, teacher." His voice sounded awfully sad, and Ling would really like to know what exactly they were talking about because he still really didn't understand anything that was going on and it was starting to get very confusing!
"It'll show it on there, so just— fuck off and watch, I guess."
Oh, did he say that out loud? Ooh, Edward was glaring at him, how cold! It seemed to get Mrs. Curtis — their teacher, apparently? what did she teach? all she'd mentioned was that she and her husband run a butcher's shop — to back down as well, though from the daggers she appeared to be glaring into Alphonse's helmet, Ling had a feeling that the brothers would be having a Very Serious Conversation with her after the first segment of the viewing was over.
Once the introduction ended, music began playing — it must have been that opening sequence the Truth mentioned, talking about symbolism and themes rather than events. Ling did his best to pay extra Extra attention to the images playing across the screen, which turned out to be quite difficult! There was a lot happening, really, with very quick cuts and dynamic action that looked quite fascinating but was rather challenging to keep track of. And not to mention the words written along the bottom of the screen, which must have been translations of the lyrics— Ling wondered why the song hadn't been translated in the space the way conversation was, but perhaps there were still limitations to this Truth's abilities. After all, everything in the world had some sort of limit.
It was interesting, seeing so many people with that golden hair and eyes in the sequence. The two children from the introductory sequence appeared again, briefly, as the shadow of a door closing passed over their faces — perhaps dealing with themes of secrets, or abandonment? And there was the young man at the beginning of the sequence, who looked rather a lot like Edward, but had much longer hair and darker skin, not to mention very different clothing. He looked properly Xerxian, at least going off of everything Ling's many tutors had told him about the lost nation. Add in the older man with similar coloring and glasses, and then Edward himself— about halfway through, Ling realized the two children must be Edward and Alphonse from their younger days, especially with the scenes of them together with a little blonde girl who had to be their mechanic friend (what was her name again?).
Seeing their bodies unravel was... awfully disturbing. Did that have to do with why Alphonse wore that armored suit? Maybe it was symbolism for some sort of grievous accident, leaving disabilities and scars.
Not to mention whatever it was that happened to Greed — some sort of metallic exoskeleton, it looked like. And why was he leaping at the Führer of Amestris? (Oh, Ling knew what Führer King Bradley looked like, naturally — he had to study his international politics very closely if he wanted to one day lead his country, and that included knowing as much about the other foreign leaders as he could). Perhaps it was representing rebellion, or insurgency? Oh, what if Greed was part of a rebel cell, operating against the country's leadership! That... might not be so good, considering how many soldiers were present.
Oddly enough, Greed seemed more interested in the strange, black-clothed people (could they be called people?) that were shown fighting Edward. He leaned forward with a complicated expression that Ling couldn't have described even if he were focusing on the man instead of the images. Maybe he knew them?
As the sequence ended and the visuals cut to the Elric brothers on a train through the countryside, Edward sat up in surprise. "Wait, we're already going to Liore? But—"
"—that's the future, not the past." Alphonse sent the Truth a look.
Ling was puzzled. "How do you know for certain?"
He was spared a brief glance. "Because," Edward explained, leaning back awkwardly and scratching the side of his neck, "We were just in the briefing for a Liore mission when we got pulled in here. So if we're already going to Liore there, this has to be showing the future. Hey, what gives?"
That last was directed at the Truth, who seemed to be more and more exhausted every time Ling remembered to look at it. Before it could sigh and explain, however, the screen shifted to show what looked like a different scene, and a younger voice piped up. Edward's expression fell and he slumped slightly, shoulders falling.
"Oh, flashback. Fair enough."
When the scene pulled out to show that younger Edward sitting in a wheelchair, Colonel Mustang leaned forward in interest. "So this was so soon after..."
"Yeah."
Ling was more intrigued by the fact that Alphonse was wearing the same suit of armor, when really he should have been far too small to fit inside — though he'd appeared taller than Edward in the shots showing them as children, he was still definitely not large enough to fill the over-six-feet-tall contraption. If whatever had cost Edward his limbs also disfigured Alphonse, though, it did make sense that he'd start wearing something around the time. The armor just... seemed out of place.
After a few quick cuts, the scene jumped back to a pretty, idyllic house. A label across the bottom of the screen told the viewers that it was ten years prior— prior to the present moment, Ling assumed. Either that, or to the scenes on the train — which, if Edward was correct, were probably still within a month of when they'd been taken regardless.
As soon as the woman's voice echoed through the room, both brothers froze solid. Ling was trying to pay attention to the screen, he really was! But it was just more interesting to watch the people reacting to it. Other than the brothers, only their mechanic friend and her grandmother seemed to react at all. When the brown-haired woman appeared onscreen, Edward leaned forward so far Ling almost expected him to fall onto his face, eyes blown almost comically wide in an expression that was abjectly painful to see. Ling was by no means an expert on people, but everything about that expression looked like grief.
Alphonse's whisper was almost drowned out by the audio, as the woman spoke warmly to the littler versions of the brothers, and Ling had to strain his ears to hear it.
"...Mom?"
Huh. That would explain it. Ling wouldn't have guessed it, considering that she didn't share any of the boys' coloring — much paler, with very different hair — but in context, he could see how they resembled her. Little Alphonse had her eyes, nearly the same soft shape with a more hazel coloring in-between her green and his brother's gold. And Little Edward shared his mother's bone structure, though that seemed to have shifted a bit over the years — his present self, still staring hungrily at the screen, had a much stronger jaw and cheekbones than the woman he was watching. Hm, Ling wondered what had happened to—
Oh.
Well. The narration certainly didn't waste any time explaining that.
For a few seconds, Ling found himself questioning where the Elrics' father was in all this — they seemed like a nice family, so why wouldn't he be there with them at the grave? From the way Mrs. Elric spoke, in her brief scene, she hadn't appeared to have fallen out of sorts with her husband. Little Edward's angry outburst answered the question quickly enough, and left Ling curious about where Mr. Elric was, that he wouldn't even return for a family funeral? Sure, the Emperor wouldn't do such a thing unless it were for his utmost favorites among the clans, but— well, normal people were usually better about this whole 'family' thing than Ling's father.
Still, there was something awfully painful about those two boys sitting in front of a gravestone. Ling barely caught a glimpse of the name 'Trisha Elric' carved into the stone, distracted by a memory of his own childhood. He hadn't been quite so young as the Elric brothers when his mother died — Little Edward and Alphonse looked maybe four or five, and Ling had been on the cusp of his twelfth year when Lady Yu Yao was assassinated — but the sting of a lost mother felt much the same. Especially now, only a few years out from the loss, it was hard to focus on the events playing out before him without remembering how his mom had looked in her funeral shroud. Pale, and quiet, and smaller than life — she'd always been a tiny woman, and Ling had been nearly her height even when she died. She never got to see him grow tall.
Someone in the room — hard to say who — gasped, and Ling looked back up at the screen in time to see the boys standing from the grave and bickering with their friend. It led quickly to a charming dinner with the two boys and the girl and her grandmother, full of casual chatter and bickering, and Ling got the feeling he'd managed to miss something quite important. Mrs. Curtis glared at the present versions of both brothers, and a number of the others seated around the room looked oddly uncomfortable. Man, of course he managed to space out during the one moment that relevant information actually came up!
Come on, Ling. Focus!
Thankfully, he didn't seem to be the only one who missed the cue, as the dark-skinned girl appeared more confused than concerned, and the blond Sergeant popped back up from his snacks (where did he get food? Ling wanted food!) to comment, "Aw, you two are such cute kids! Wait, why's everyone frowning? Where'd your mom go?" The woman with the mole smacked him. It seemed oddly habitual.
The voice of Edward's narration continued along, describing their time practicing alchemy, and the screen offered a quick shot of Mrs. Curtis sternly overseeing the boys as they made alchemical circles on the ground. So she had been their teacher after all! Teacher of alchemy, apparently. She certainly didn't look like an alchemist, but that could just be because Ling mostly read about state and government alchemy, and she obviously wasn't participating in either. Even ten years earlier, she didn't look much different — hair slightly longer, perhaps, a healthier flush to her skin. Come to think of it, the in-person version of her looked a little pale.
White flickered across the screen as the scene returned to the Elrics' house, now covered in snow, and offered some more glimpses of the boys studying. They looked older, closer to eight or nine, and appeared to be back home. Had they lived at home while studying? Mrs. Izumi had said she was from 'Dublith', while the Elrics were from 'Resembool'... but, as Ling had no idea what the geography of Amestris was like, how was he to know if those places were close to each other or not?
Finally, the scenes seemed to come to another relevant moment. Little Edward's voice was speaking from the screen as he listed off... chemicals? Elements? Well, Amestris was historically known to treat alchemy as a science, so perhaps that was part of their research. What were they doing — something about their mother?
Off-screen, as the boys compiled their ingredients together, the present Edward looked as though he desperately wanted to climb inside the armor with his brother and hide. Mrs. Curtis continued to glare furiously at the boys, and the large Major appeared almost horrified. Colonel Mustang had one gloved hand cupped over his mouth, brows furrowed almost painfully as he stared at the scenes, but he didn't look as disturbed as many of the others. Again, it seemed like he knew what was happening. He wasn't present in the flashback, so he couldn't have been there and seen it in person. Perhaps the Elrics told him about their research? As Edward's commanding officer, perhaps he could demand such information?
Then the eye appeared, and Little Edward and Alphonse's bodies started breaking apart like bloody, bloody paper dolls, and Ling would have found himself transfixed in horror by the images if a low, bitten-off gasp hadn't distracted him.
"Fullmetal?"
"Brother!"
Present Edward grimaced, buckling forward over his left leg and breathing in sharp, short pants. At first, Ling thought perhaps he was having a bad memory moment — they happened, he wouldn't judge — but then he spotted a red stain slowly growing on the fabric around Edward's stump, quickly soaking into the towel below. Right, reliving the injuries. Suddenly, Ling felt as though things were a great deal more serious than even he'd surmised.
Curiously, Alphonse didn't seem to be in any pain, frantically bending over his brother and offering a towel from the stack as Edward rolled up the fabric around the (gaping bloody oh-dear-gods-is-that-bone) wound. Perhaps it was because only Edward had given his blood to the screening, as on-screen Little Alphonse was in the middle of screaming rather desperately and being completely pulled apart by the disturbing arm-filaments emerging from the alchemic circle.
Ling knew he should be focusing on the screen, gathering information and focusing and all of those wonderful things, but it proved quite difficult to look away from the brothers. (Well, from Edward). While he wasn't exactly fond of seeing people in pain, there was something about how Edward handled it — gritted teeth, not a single whimper or cry despite re-experiencing the amputation of an entire limb — that kept Ling rather enthralled. And he wasn't the only one — while Colonel Mustang had finally been fully captured by the screen, the sharp-eyed Lieutenant was focusing on the boys, as was the man with the scar across his face. The blonde girl — Winry — refused to look at either, curling in towards her grandmother as the tiny woman rubbed her back comfortingly.
"This is the Truth."
Listening half-heartedly to the dialogue resonating through the air, Ling found himself shrinking back just a bit towards where Lan Fan and Fu were standing, comforted by the hand his cousin rested on his shoulder. Fabric rustled beside him as Mei curled closer to his side, watching the screen with wide eyes and one hand grasping sharp creases into his jacket.
Due to her prodigious skills and capability, Ling often found it too easy to forget how young his little sister was — only a few years older than the boys on-screen.
Metal clanged as a familiar suit of antique armor clattered into sight on-screen, and as Little Edward traced a strange marking onto the metal in his own blood (ooh, Ling wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or impressed, that sort of thing must have taken a really strong stomach), it became sickeningly, shockingly clear what had transpired with the younger Elric brother. Why his chi filled the armor so strangely, as though it was attempting to encompass a space larger than it had been made for. Why those odd lights glowed behind the eye-holes, why such a young boy could fit into such a large contraption.
The armor was the boy.
As he came to that chilling realization, the Truth — their Truth, not the one on the screen — stepped up and the images paused. "We're at about the halfway point of this installment, if anyone would like to take a quick break."
Glancing up from where he'd been pressing a towel against his brother's bleeding leg, Alphonse nodded, the hollow echo of his voice now somehow chilling to hear. "That would be great. Brother, how are you feeling?"
"Like shit." Edward winced, rubbing a thumb against his armless shoulder — which hadn't started bleeding, but clearly must have been lost in the same incident. "Al, you can let up with that — the bleeding's stopped. Guess I only get what that thing actually shows, thank fuck." Shooting a glance up at the Truth, he demanded, "Hey, can I have my automail back now? Unless you're gonna show the whole surgery—"
A snap of strange fingers, and the metal limbs reappeared in a flash, bloodstains disappearing as if by magic. With Edward still wearing just the tank-top and rolled-up trousers, Ling could see now that the automail was joined to his body by heavy metal plates, anchored by screws that — judging by the boy's past complaints — must have been drilled down to the bone to keep such weight in place. Tough scar tissue peeked around the edges of the joins, and Ling found himself wincing in sympathy. Automail was much less common in Xing, so he's never actually gotten a chance to see it up-close (or, well, perhaps not up-close, but quite close nonetheless) until now. Would it be rude if he asked to take a closer look? It would probably be rude, wouldn't it?
"Oi! You — ponytail guy, Ling!" Huh? "You can look, just stop gawking about it! Seriously, I feel like I'm in some sort of shitty lab!"
Edward was staring at him, but it didn't seem... too angry? So Ling slid out of his seat and scampered closer, kneeling down to peer at the machinery. The sound of small feet tapped behind him as Mei followed, crouching on Edward's other side and examining his leg with a much more analytic eye than Ling had ever been quite able to achieve. He did his best to look at the bits and bobs like a smart, capable future-leader-of-a-nation might.
The heavy screws and scar tissue did give him pause, and he glanced up at Edward. This close, the boy’s face was even more striking, and Ling had to take a moment to gather his quickly-scattering thoughts. Wow, his eyelashes were really long. He hardly looked real, more like a doll or something. Focus, Ling! “So, these— can you feel them? Since automail supposedly works with the—“
“—nervous system, yeah.” Mei was peering at the scarring as well, expression thoughtful. Clinical. “I’m surprised you were able to get a working connection with this much scarring. Scar tissue can disrupt chi passages, you know.”
Winry, on her couch, crossed her arms and huffed. “Well, I don’t know what ‘chi’ is, but granny and I did a damn good job on that automail!”
Edward shot her a glare that seemed more instinct than actual aggravation (Ling knew the look well, since Lan Fan often wore a similar expression). “Yeah, yeah. I mean, not like I have anything else to compare it to, but it works fine.” He flexed the metal arm with a grunt, and Ling definitely didn’t stare at the muscles along his shoulder. “And I can’t really feel sensation or anything, but it does hurt when they get broken. The inner parts, at least, since they’re the ones that send fucked-up signals to my nerves when they take damage. The rest, not so much. S’why I can transmute it.”
“Stop transmuting my automail! I made it, leave it be!”
“And it’s attached to my body! Sheesh, at least I put it back to normal afterwards, you don’t have to get that angry!” He rolled his eyes, expressive and mostly relieved of the strain and fear he'd carried before. "Crazy gearhead."
"Alchemy jerk!"
"They must be awfully heavy." Ling piped up, attempting to interrupt what looked like the beginnings of another bickering match between the two. Goodness, but growing up together certainly explained that! "Is it very difficult to use them? I mean, metal limbs do seem like an advantage in fights, but with the extra weight and balance—"
Grunting, Edward twisted a bit and curled his automail arm into a few different positions, showing Ling more of the muscles in his back and— wow. That was— that was definitely something. Wow. This was starting to seem downright unfair. "Took a lot of physio to get used to them, and you're right about the balance issue. Plus, can't write with this one— the tuning's just not quite right, no matter what we do. So now all my handwriting's shit, and the bastard makes fun of my reports."
Said 'bastard' observed the scene somewhat smugly, one eyebrow lifting languidly at Edward's comment. "Well, Fullmetal, you have had four years to get used to writing with your other hand. I'd say it's been long enough that a bit of teasing is reasonable exchange for the headache I get reading them."
"Everyone knows Hawkeye does half your paperwork, asshole!"
The blonde lieutenant snorted into one fist, turning away to disguise the laugh that had almost escaped. Colonel Mustang turned to her, expression sad and betrayed, but Ling found himself a bit more focused on the mental math. In the— the alchemy scene, before, he'd thought the brothers looked a little younger than Mei. So that would put them at perhaps eleven or so, right? And if that was four years ago— "Wait, how old are you?"
Edward eyed him oddly. "Fifteen. Wh— hey, what the hell's that face?!"
Desperately trying to school his expression out of whatever his face had done (was he excited? surprised? confused?), Ling leaned back and pointed towards himself. "Me? Fourteen, I won't be fifteen until December."
"Fourt— what the fuck?!" Somewhere behind him, Ling heard the telltale sound of Lan Fan stifling laughter. Edward stared at him, eyes wide and comedic betrayal painted across his face. "What the fuck, you're younger than me?! I thought you were like eighteen! You're kidding, fourteen?!"
Mei snickered. "The Yao brother is well-known for being tall— and foolish."
Leaning over Edward's shoulder, Alphonse peered (or seemed to peer) down at her. "What about you, Mei?"
"Just turned thirteen!"
"Little sister is well-known for being very small." Ling quipped, wincing when she reached over Edward's legs to smack him. "Aaaand a very skilled alkhestrist! Quite talented!"
"Yao brother is still foolish."
Well, considering how he seemed somehow incapable of pulling his attention away from Edward's unfairly beautiful eyes, Ling would give her that. He certainly felt foolish, realizing he'd been staring at the boy even as his sister called him out in front of the entire room. Lan Fan was still laughing behind him— well, it was certainly better than her starting a fight, but still! She was his bodyguard, and moreover his favorite cousin— she should be defending his honor, not enjoying his misfortune!
He hadn't stopped staring at Edward, and pulled his gaze away rather quickly. "Anyways! Um, so— so it's very interesting! Your automail, I mean! Thank you for letting me look at it!"
"Uh—" Edward still looked a bit thrown-off — Ling very much hoped it was from his age, and not his staring. "—yeah, uh, sure." He glanced up at the screen. "Can we just— get the rest of this one over with? What's next, anyways?"
The Truth, which had remained lurking near the front of the room, took on a thoughtful pose as Ling and Mei retreated back to their seat. "Hm— I believe the Colonel will stop by, you'll receive your automail, and— hm, perhaps your pocketwatch as well? Shall we see?"
Edward grimaced. "Great, is the surgery going to be on-screen too?"
"I don't believe so."
He flopped back against Alphonse's chestplate with a sigh, settling himself comfortable against a few of the abandoned pillows. "Thank fuck for that, at least. Small mercies abound. Alright, sure, let's go."
As one of the Amestrian soldiers returned from the latrine and the ambient lighting darkened once more, Mei leaned over to Ling and whispered, "Automail surgery is supposed to be really painful. It permanently warps the bones and muscles in the area around the port, and usually takes three years of therapy to use!"
"Three years?" Keeping his eyes on the screen, which seemed to be showing Colonel Mustang now — huh, Lieutenant Hawkeye had very short hair four years ago — Ling leaned back to reply. "Seems like a long time."
"Yes— I don't think Edward did that long." She frowned, glancing over at the boy. He appeared to be half-asleep. After a longer pause, she continued, "There was heavier scarring around the ports than he should have had, even from the amputation and surgery. If you push the therapy too quickly, it damages the body and can cause excessive scar tissue to form, which leads to more pain and limited use in the long run."
Ling hummed. "It would make sense. I think I remember hearing someone mention a child in the Amestrian military a few years ago— the timing lines up."
"But why would he join the military?" For the first time since their arrival, Mei sounded upset. "I mean— he's so young. I know most kids don't have to live like—" She cut herself off, even though they both knew what she'd meant to say (live like us). "—like that, but they're still— it just seems like a sad way to move forward."
On the screen, Colonel Mustang was demanding to know where he could find the Elric brothers. When the scene changed to the Rockbell house, Ling winced away from the sight of a listless Edward in a wheeled chair. Even after only knowing the boy for maybe an hour, he knew that Edward should never look so— so empty. It was just wrong.
"Yao brother?"
Right, Mei. "Well, it's a bit like the courts," Ling mused, tugging a plush pillow into his lap to rest his elbows on. "I suspect the military offers access to a greater wealth of money and resources than most pursuits, and I'm sure Edward and Alphonse don't wish to remain as they are currently."
Flopping back with a huff, Mei pushed another cushion between herself and Ling, leaning against it without touching. "Still seems unpleasant. And I don't like those soldiers."
"What — the Colonel? He seems alright." Ling nudged her, earning a scowl. "Looks like he could be from Xing, don't you think?"
"His surname is Mustang. Not Xingese."
"Maybe he's half!"
Mei rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean him, anyways. You know the sorts of things we hear about Amestris, right? And the way their military is... I don't like it. I really don't."
"Hmm."
"I'm serious." Leaning closer, she dropped her voice to a low whisper. "You've noticed, haven't you? Some of them don't feel right, Yao brother. There's something wrong with their chi." She shuddered, glancing out at the gathering. "Those ones on the floor, there— something's wrong with them."
Following her gaze, Ling's eyes settled on the group of men who had chosen the beanbags over the chairs and sofas — not a terrible idea, if you asked him. Much more room to sprawl out, and they were all on the larger side so— focus, Ling.
He closed his eyes and reached out for the Dragon's Pulse, absently noting the signatures around him so he could remember the names later. Naturally, the Truth was an odd, blinding beacon, far too bold and far too wrong — Edward, Alphonse, and their teacher Mrs. Curtis were all similarly bright, though at a much more natural level. Mei, beside him, had chi that liked to pop and jump like sizzling oil, energized and flowing. At his back, Lan Fan and Fu both stood steady and at ease.
Stretching further, he frowned and turned back to Mei. "You're right, there is something odd about them. You think we should mention it?"
She shook her head. "No— for all we know, it's not a secret to anyone but us from 'outside'. Amestris has a reputation for frightening things — we shouldn't give them any reason to turn their weapons on us."
"Hey, Winry, is that why you wanted to get your ears pierced?" Alphonse's voice chirped, breaking through the relative silence of the audience and distracting Ling away from his sister's (very, very smart) reasoning. The boy-in-armor was looking over at his mechanic friend, who had flushed quite red and was staring rather stubbornly at the screen.
Depicted on it, her childhood self was conversing with a younger, short-haired Lieutenant Hawkeye. The visuals cut between the two of them, and Colonel Mustang giving what... looked like a sales pitch? To the chair-ridden Edward.
Well, they had been wondering why he ended up with the military, but...
"See? Bad." Mei griped beside him, crossing her arms and frowning at the screen. "He's basically luring him in like bait. 'We'll give you money and resources', it's so obvious." Pitching her voice up loud enough to be heard, she added, "I guess the Amestrian military must be in really bad shape, if they've turned to recruiting disabled kids."
Ling winced as most of the room turned to look at them. "Mei, come on—"
As the scenes continued to play, shifting to Edward in what looked like a home medical suite, the current Edward sighed. "You— Mei, right? Look, I knew what I was getting into, and the military's done a lot of alchemic research that the public doesn't have access to." He grimaced. "Stuff that Al and I need."
"Doesn't change that they recruited a kid." Mei leaned forward, restless. "You're even younger than me there!"
"And I'm older than you now, so knock it off. Clearly, I've done fine."
"Brother—"
"Woah, how much later is that from?" The blond Sergeant cut in, pointing back at the screen where Edward — now with a short braid and two very functional metal limbs — was sparring with his brother.
Edward peered at the images for a moment. "Looks like about a year after the surgery — I think that's a bit before I took the state alchemist exam."
"A— dude, you're shitting me!" The girl beside Winry leaned forward, nearly falling out of her seat in the process. Her eyes were round as dinner plates as she stared at the brothers. "No way you were moving like that after a single year! Are you nuts?"
"No, I'm a genius, thank you very much."
Alphonse groaned. "Honestly, brother. That can't be your excuse for everything."
"What? But I am! Even got it on paper and everything!"
Ignoring his brother's protests, Alphonse looked up at the screen, and Ling would've bet a week's worth of food that he was sighing. "He's not lying, it was only a year. But it's not showing any of the bad stuff — Brother pushed himself so hard, he lost twenty pounds in the first few months. He could barely eat from the pain — he'd practice and practice until he passed out, over and over and over again."
Edward twitched. "It wasn't that bad."
"Yes, it was." Winry piped up, expression deeply troubled. "We had to put you on an IV because you were losing so much fluid. And when you nearly tore one of the ports off, and we had to—"
"Okay, right, we get it, I'm an idiot, can we move on?" A flash of deeper discomfort crossed Edward's face, something darkening his eyes and bringing a haunted cast to his otherwise warm features. "Look, what matters is that it worked out in the end. Done, in the past, etcetera."
Watching him while the history on the screen moved along, Ling found himself wondering just what it was that had Edward pushing himself so hard. Certainly, he could understand the other boy's motivations, but... to nearly destroy your body and health over and over, just for this sort of goal? What sort of emotion could possibly cause such a painful determination? The only thing Ling could think of sacrificing his health in such a way for would be — well, a source of immortality, probably.
(What about Lan Fan and Fu, his family? What about his little sister? Could he give so much of himself for them? Or was Edward simply a better, more compassionate person than Ling could hope to be?)
Another voice spoke on-screen, and the Amestrian soldiers tensed as a unit and turned towards the images. Ling blinked and frowned at the visuals, trying to place the voice before the speaker's face came into view.
The woman with the mole on her cheek turned to look at Edward in disbelief. "The Führer was at your examination?!"
"Yep." Edward stuck his tongue out at the screen petulantly. "Beats me why."
Beside Ling, Greed grimaced and crossed his arms. "Damn, the old man came out for that, huh? That's not good."
Oh. "That's the Führer? You know him?" Again, he wasn't nearly that dumb — like before, Ling had recognized Führer King Bradley the moment he came into view, and was already committing the voice to memory. It was okay to pretend he hadn't, though — these people didn't need to think he was smart, it was fine if they just saw him as being silly and easily distracted and not too bright or dangerous. Like a squirrel. Yes, they should just think of him as a squirrel, nobody thought they had to be cautious around a squirrel (unless they were a nut).
Greed glanced over at him, eyes curiously wine-colored behind his weird glasses. "Tch, unfortunately. We've got some history." He bit at one of his nails. "Shitty guy— must've figured out they saw it."
"Saw— the Truth?"
"Man, you really don't know shit 'bout alchemy, do you?"
On his other side, Mei peered around to glare at the man. "Well, I know a lot about alkhestry and even I've never heard of something like that, so maybe it's just some weird Amestrian thing."
Greed snorted. "Psh, you've got that right. What the heck is— holy shit, he didn't."
Caught off-guard by the abrupt shift, Ling could only lean out of the way as Greed nearly fell out of his seat, eyes glued to the screen. A startled laugh burst out of the odd man's throat, and he turned toward a very confused Edward with one of the biggest smiles Ling'd ever seen. "Kid, that's the funniest fucking thing I've seen in the last decade. You seriously went for his throat, huh?"
To his credit, Edward rolled his eyes, gesturing to the screen — where the images showed his (ridiculous-looking) spear being leveled at the Führer's neck, while a quartet of soldiers surrounded him. "Meh, I knew they'd protect him. Besides, he got the better of me anyways — I wouldn't have hit him either way."
As he spoke, the haft of the spear sliced through, and the head fell to the ground. Ling winced, because that must have been one hell of a blow — to cut through so cleanly and quickly that the weapon didn't even come apart right away. Führer Bradley would be an interesting man to duel. Not that he was considering getting into a sword fight with the ruler of another nation, of course. Preposterous. But maybe if a time came when they were ever on friendly relations and could hypothetically have a casual bout just for fun... actually, come to think of it, if this whole future-seeing thing was so important, why wasn't the Führer here too?
Leaning back, Greed continued grinning at Edward. "Still, takes balls to go for that guy. I like you, kid."
This time, Edward shot him a scowl. "Do you really have to call me that?"
"Kid? Yeah, 'cause you are one."
"Why, you—"
Tuning out their argument, Ling noticed Winry leaning over to talk quietly to Alphonse, neatly mirroring their short conversation on the screen. It seemed rather ironic, that she'd so clearly grown up while he looked identical — frozen in time. Come to think of it, a metal body would kind of work as a form of immortality, wouldn't it...?
Mei must have been wondering the same, because she considered the two and shook her head. "That can't work — souls deteriorate if they're not where they're supposed to be. His chi's already starting to flow weird around the edges — I don't even know if that sort of form would last more than six years." She frowned, leaning back into the chair. "So that won't work for our father."
"No, I suppose not."
They both fell silent as the pictures continued on, through Edward receiving a certification from the Colonel and his name. Huh, Ling hadn't realized that was why Amestrian alchemists had those odd titles. A 'second name'. Seemed like a weird habit, but who was he to judge? He'd spent his entire life in conflict with his forty-nine siblings, all trying to win their collective father's attention. Judging by how the Amestrians had given he and Mei odd looks when she explained their familial relationship, they'd probably think he was just as weird as he thought they were. It all went in a circle, clearly.
The scene shifted back to the boys on the train, in the 'future', and one of the few civilians — the girl with the dyed bangs, sitting on the floor — gasped at the silhouette of a building was show visibly on the horizon. "You're going to Liore? Whatever for?"
"Didn't we mention that at the beginning?"
She flushed. "I must have missed it."
"Hm." Shrugging, Edward shifted into a more upright position, legs crossed so he could lean his elbows on his knees. "We've heard rumors of some unusual alchemical activity in the area. Could be a philosopher's stone, so Al and I were planning to go investigate."
One of the doctors (if Ling was remembering correctly) turned to look at Edward in what appeared to be horror. "Why in the world are you looking for that?"
Edward blinked. "Huh? I mean, to get our bodies back?"
"Speaking of which..."
He winced and turned to look at Mrs. Curtis, who cracked her knuckles menacingly in his direction. Ling felt a sympathetic shiver run down his spine — she looked scary. Which probably meant she was an excellent teacher, but— still, scary. A glance to his side told him that Mei was already halfway to idolizing her, which was entirely true to her character. He didn't even need to look behind him to know that Lan Fan would be the same — any woman who could kick ass was automatically elevated in her eyes.
Swallowing visibly, Edward pointed back at the screen. "Can't it wait until it's over?"
"That's just the— ending-thing. You'll see it again later, come on." And with that, she hauled both Elric brothers out of their seats (well, off of the floor, same difference) and across the room to the door which had been indicated as 'dormitory areas' (to the left of latrines, which itself was to the left of 'bathing facilities'). The wood creaked as she hauled it open and none-too-gently shoved both boys inside before entering and yanking it shut behind her.
In the ensuing silence, Ling noted that the song used to cap off the first segment was rather fun to listen to. The chalk-like drawings moving across the screen were fun as well, even though the lyrics looked a bit sad. It seemed a little ironic, using such a traditional childhood sort of imagery when the brothers — as far as he could tell — didn't really get to have that sort of thing.
But then again, maybe that was the point.
What did Ling know? After all, thinking more than necessary just wasn't his thing. Better to watch and observe how these events shook out, and then he'd be able to decide just what he thought once he knew all the pieces. Much easier that way. Sit back, let the information come, and follow his instincts to the best conclusion.
A pity the next installment would have to wait until the Elrics and Mrs. Curtis were back. This was becoming quite interesting.