Worlds Collide

A/N: Amethyst-Eyed Koneko, Wrath's angry, definitely, but he's also massively depressed when he's not furious with one thing or another. Dante won't use Rose's new little son, and the older one's too old now to open the gate. Sorry about the blueberry syrup. I don't have any here either. And, as far as Aideen having any of Riza, she has Riza's X chromosome for sure, plus some of her eye coloring. Hair color and other traits are carried on other chromosomes. And as far as Nicholas, I figure Riza's traits were just stronger than the ones he inherited from his fathers. But anyway, enough biology. Kuragari, yay for your new account. Thanks for the review. Nomme de Plume, I know, Wrath is making things sad, that's why I included gratuitous phone sex in this one, just for fun. I think Hohenheim will at least get to see his grandkids, though like a lot of the character's fates at the end, I haven't figured out if he'll live or die. Jaugi, thanks so much. I'm glad you liked both stories. I tried very hard to make them realistic and enjoyable even for people who don't like mpreg.

And, this chapter has a little lime.

Chapter 18

Comfort and Release

The last few days had left Frank’s mind spinning. The initial shock and grief gone, part of it thanks to that intelligence officer Fuery, who had gotten permission to take Stephen to a firing range—with Fuery’s own gun focused on Frank as long as he had a loaded weapon. It had been nice to get to take out a little of his anger, confusion and hurt on an emotionless target.

Bang. Edward was dead.

Bang. Some other bastard with his face shot Roy—who seemed like a decent guy here—in the face.

Bang. He’d also killed Wrath’s mother.

Bang. Wrath was still furious at him, when he seemed to function at all.

Bang. Wrath hadn’t spoken a word since initially after the crash.

Bang. The bastard with his name was the reason he had a gun trained at his head.

Bang. Wrath was still injured.

Bang. He would probably never see his world again.

Bang. Even if he did, he was now a disgrace, worthy of court marshal.

Bang. This world confounded him, with its alchemy and a formerly pregnant Ed.

Bang. The gate still had to be closed permanently to protect both worlds.

Round after round, he fired into targets, until finally, he put the gun down, feeling exhausted, more than really he should have. He looked back at Fuery, leaning against a nearby post.

“Thank you,” he told the intelligence officer. “I needed that.”

“Is this how you usually deal with issues?” Fuery asked him, moving the targets back on their pulleys. “Nice grouping,” he added when he saw the centers of the papers had been shot clean through.

“Most of the time it is,” Frank said, answering Fuery’s question. He couldn’t help it as he smiled, feeling a bit of the emotional weight off his shoulders. “I’m sure Freud would have one hell of a time with me.” The other man looked at Frank curiously. “Never mind. I’m going to have to learn to make jokes that you people here can get.”

Together, the two men walked to a car that was waiting just outside, Frank doing his best to remain unnoticed, afraid that the other him had made additional enemies. Sitting in the backseat beside Fuery, Frank appraised the younger man’s uniform. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to ask. What is it with your uniforms here? That flap thing.”

“It’s decorative, mostly. Thankfully, removable now. It used to be attached to the pants. The fuhrer wanted to get rid of it all together, but the public felt it modified the country’s uniforms too much. So he just made the coat a bit longer and made the flap optional in battle.”

Frank nodded, watching the buildings of the city go by as they drove back to the hospital where Wrath was being treated, with plans to release him today into Ed and Roy’s care. Frank was still being shuffled among members of the military, having stayed one night at Fuery’s apartment, once with Falman and Roy’s sister—with the threat that she’d killed him once and would do it again if he tried to hurt anyone, once with Roy and his family—and that had been awkward, as though there was still more to this story than just the eye, once with a really big bald man named Armstrong and his two sons. Of all the places he’d gotten to stay, Frank had to admit he’d preferred Fuery’s place, since the man obviously hated the other Archer, but trusted Frank enough not to watch his every move.

And he needed trust, missed it in this place where everyone who saw him looked ready to kill him.

********

“Okay, the cast is off,” Raine said.

Ed watched as Nicholas eagerly began scratching his arm, almost moaning in pleasure as he did. “I’ve wanted to do that for two weeks.”

“Just be glad you’ve got your Auntie,” Ed said. “Otherwise, you’d have had that on for over a month.”

Nicholas hugged the dark-haired doctor, thanking her. Then, he looked up at Wrath with a grin as he continued to itch the now free arm. “There are a lot of bad things about what happened to your spine, but you should be glad you can’t feel just how much those things itch.”

Finally, Ed grabbed Nicholas’s hand. “You’re going to have your arm rubbed raw. Stop it.”

Wrath merely watched with those large, sad eyes. Occasionally, Nicholas would be lucky enough to get a chortle out of the man with the braided hair, but usually, he remained a silent observer. Aideen sat beside Ed, every so often looking up at Wrath disapprovingly. Ed knew his daughter well enough to know her initial sympathy was waning. Aideen understood being upset, depressed even, and she could be kind and compassionate when the person was dealing with these emotions, but her problem was that Wrath wasn’t dealing, wasn’t coping.

He wouldn’t eat, he didn’t speak. He seemed to be waiting for death to take him. Ed found it hard to relate to, Aideen finding it far harder, as she had called the former homunculus an idiot more than once, getting disciplined for it, and now didn’t even refrain from saying it in front of him. She understood that Wrath felt terrible, and pitied him for it, but when everyone made over him for barely eating, hardly drinking, she only shook her head and muttered under her breath.

Her interest in Wrath had faded, replaced by a voracious appetite for information on the other side of the gate, supplied by Frank—that was the name they were all calling him by after a great deal of debate. Aideen understood that man. He was mourning, but he was moving on and working with Roy and Ed to develop some of the technologies of his world here in Aideen’s. That earned the girl’s respect, and when he grew silent, obviously thinking about his lost friend, she would pat Frank on the arm, or find a question to distract him from thoughts of Edward.

Still, Aideen pumped him for information on everything from weapons, to flying machines, to musical instruments—a personal favorite of Frank’s. And the former spy assured the girl’s parents that she was absolutely no bother to him.

Ed only hoped that her attitude with Wrath would improve once he was staying at their home. Aideen hadn’t seemed to mind fixing up the library as a makeshift bedroom for the twenty-year-old, and had done so enthusiastically enough. The problem was what would happen when he actually was there. Especially while Roy was away dealing with Drachma.

The blond alchemist noticed as Frank walked through the door, Fuery at his side. “Well, now that the two of you are here. I guess it’s time to get Wrath to my place.”

“Any news from the fuhrer on how the treaty is going?” Fuery asked.

“Last word I got from him was that the Creta prime minister is practically trying to make the Drachman president sign away half of the country to us.” Ed smiled, pleased to know that the strong connection that the country had with Creta was still due largely to the warm reception their emissary had received almost eight years ago. With the negotiations taking place in the so-called “neutral territory” of Creta, Ed had no doubt Amestris would come out of this entire thing much further ahead than Drachma.

Ed watched as Al entered with a wheelchair, pushing it into the room, the leg rests lifted up to support Wrath’s still broken limbs.

“Well, are you ready for a change of scenery?” Ed asked the man in the bed. Wrath shrugged. Guiding Wrath as best they could, the four men and Raine sat Wrath’s nearly dead weight up on the bed, carefully shifting him to the side of the bed. Ed and Fuery guided Wrath’s legs while the two taller men carried his body into the chair. Though there had been a look of defeat on Wrath’s face for the last few days, Ed felt oddly happy that the younger man looked almost angry at Frank and Fuery, for whatever reasons he had. There was at least some sign of life inside the silent young man.

********

Frank sat at the kitchen table at the fuhrer’s home, watching as the Ed cut bananas and dunked them in some leftover orange juice from earlier that morning before placing them on a small tray.

“It’s one of the kids’ favorite snacks, and since it isn’t cake or junk food, I don’t argue,” Ed said before putting the tray in that mechanized icebox in the kitchen. Frank had already marveled at the thing for its efficiency, and the fact that the young man had created it on a whim one day when the ice delivery was late.

“Frozen bananas? Do you have any idea how hard oranges and bananas are to get?”

“Not here. We have a good trade relationship with Xing, where they’re grown.” He accidentally knocked one of the twin’s tests off a magnet on the refrigerating unit, carefully picking it back up with a proud grin.

Frank hadn’t spent much time with Ed, but most of what he saw of the alchemist seemed to be brash, loud, and fiery. It was during small snatches like these when glimpses of the Edward he’d known on earth shone through. Still, there was something about the level of contentment in this Edward that seemed almost unnatural.

“So, are you happy like this?” Frank asked before blowing on the cup of coffee the true blond had made for him. Ed looked at him questioningly. “Settled, relaxed, um…” Frank had seen Ed’s reaction before to the suggestion that he was the woman in his relationship, so Frank hesitated asking the blond if he minded being the “mother” to these kids. Ed folded his arms, letting Frank know he was treading on thin ice. “If that’s what you do when you get bored,” Frank said, gesturing to the refrigerator and freezer combo, “then I can’t imagine you enjoying the sedentary life.”

“I miss some of what I used to do, but it’s not like I’ve been bored all of the time. There’s travel to other countries, assassination attempts on Roy, me, or my family—which I could seriously do without, my lab out back, the occasional mission, not to mention raising the twins.” Ed poured what looked like half of the sugar container into his own cup of coffee. “You make it seem like I do nothing but play house.”

There was a knock on the front door, Ed looking up at Frank with some seriousness. “You will want to stay away for a while. That’s Al with Wrath’s, well, let’s call him his father.”

Frank nodded, knowing that the other version of himself had shot that man’s wife, and Wrath’s father would likely try to kill him on sight. Ed blew on his coffee, taking a sip, then stood and went to the front door, the former spy doing his best to stay out of sight. He heard Ed open the door.

“Sig,” Ed said, then there was a bit of grunting on his part, as though he was being squeezed tightly.

“So he’s here?” a man asked.

“He’s in the library with Raine.”

“And the twins?”

“They’re staying with Winry tonight,” Frank heard Al say.

“It was a long ride. I could use a glass of water.” Damn it, Frank thought, wondering if he could dart into the study before the mountain of a man who’d been described to him made his appearance in the kitchen.

No. He couldn’t.

“You!” That was all this man said before swinging to punch Frank square in the face. Frank managed to duck, get out of the road of his massive fist, but he wasn’t sure how long he could avoid this man who seemed to take up half of the kitchen.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “How long am I going to be greeted by people trying to slam my face into something?” He ducked under the kitchen table, feeling horribly cowardly while he did.

“Sig, that isn’t him,” Ed said, grabbing the man’s massive arm. “It isn’t him!” With a few quick moves and kicks that sent the large man skidding backwards, Ed managed to knock—literally—some sense into the butcher. “Would I defend him if he really was that bastard?”

Frank looked on in what could only be described as surprise. He’d never seen Edward move like that, didn’t really think Edward would have even thought about it. Not only that, but the blond, even against this man that he obviously didn’t want to hurt, was an impressive fighter.

“He’s not the same man. He came through the Gate with Wrath. He’s his friend. Think of him like the bastard’s twin or something, but he’s not him.”

Ed signaled to Al to reach into the refrigerator to remove a pitcher of water. The butcher never took his eyes off of Frank and vice versa. Al moved to a cupboard, pulling out a large glass and began pouring, finally handing the man the water. Watching as the water was chugged in one gulp, Frank couldn’t help but be intimidated by the butcher, not because he was that inexperienced in fighting an oppponent, but because as far as this man was concerned, his wife had died because of Frank’s double, and a man whose lost something that important isn’t as predictable, or even cautious as the average man trying to pound your face in.

“What’s your name?”

“Same as the asshole’s,” Frank answered. “Wish it wasn’t, though.”

The large man looked to Ed. “They’re not very much alike. Sig, I trust him enough for my kids to be around him, if that says anything for his character.” As Sig nodded, it seemed to Frank it did.

“Please, Mr. Curtis,” Al said, “go see Wrath. He needs someone else to talk to. He’s not listening to us.”

As the large man nodded and stepped from the kitchen, Frank released a relieved sigh.

********

Wrath laid in the bed, just letting Mustang’s sister check him, working again at healing his back. Why didn’t she grasp the concept that he wasn’t helping it heal? Why couldn’t she understand that?

He’d been useless at saving Edward, and now he couldn’t even manage to die properly.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice said from the doorway he was much too big for. Wrath looked over at the tall man, and saw him take pause for a moment the instant he saw the young man. “You look like her.”

Wrath looked at his questioningly at first, then came to understand what he meant. He looked like his mother.

“I hurts, doesn’t it?” Sig asked as he took a seat on a wooden chair that was entirely too small for him. “And you’re angry, too.” The man folded his hands in his lap. “I couldn’t save her either.”

Wrath looked up at the man who might have been his father, seeing that almost ten years later, the hurt was still there, the tears hidden in that strong gaze.

“It may never stop hurting. Just not all the time.”

A large hand patted at Wrath’s arm. The younger man didn’t remember much about Sig Curtis, but he remembered that the butcher wasn’t exactly a talker, not that Wrath himself had been, or felt capable of, doing much talking since the crash. So the two sat in sympathetic silence.

********

Munich

Dietlinde Eckhart was furious. She’d been duped by three of her own men, and all along, the true alchemist had been building rockets. She could have crossed through the gate years ago, and the thought on her own failure infuriated her even further.

Once again, she was spending long hours in the chamber, trying to see exactly what that rocket scientist, Ulysses, had done. They’d already discovered that blood had been a key in opening the rift, but unfortunately, no one yet had the power capable of opening it even with a full sacrifice to the serpent.

She was preparing to hoist an animal up to the beast for it to feed on, noticing that once again, hearing a faint thud on the ground and looking up to see the rift was closing and yet another stack of papers had been left once again, with several books.

On the top was a letter.

Frau Eckhart,

Yes, I know your name. I have included texts that should aid you in opening the Gate. Also, you need to seek out Hohenheim Elric. He may go by the name Hohenheim of Light. I have included a photograph of the man so you can easily recognize him. With all that I have included, there are sets of instructions, details to help you open the Gate. You must also understand the weapons that we do not yet have on this side, including your machines that fly. Just as we have alchemic weapons that you will, I’m certain, seek for yourself here because you do not posess them there. Your bombs, explosives, we have to some extent, but because of our alchemic prowess here, such weapons have not been explored to their fullest extent, so SHOULD you find Hohenheim and SHOULD you manage to make it through the gate, I would suggest you bring these along.

Sincerely,

Dante

Consider me your ally here.

Dietlinde could not help but notice the slightly condescending tone in the letter, but nonetheless, the German woman wasn’t going to argue with her only ally on the other side. Yet.

********

Amestris

“Well, how are things there?” Roy asked from his room at the Cretan emissary’s home. All these years later and the man still felt he wanted to repay the favor.

“Depressing,” Ed answered from a country away.

“Wrath is still in rough shape?”

“Wrath is miserable, Sig’s here and he’s miserable not to mention trying to kill Frank, Frank’s here, and he’s spending most of his time avoiding Sig, plus, Al’s staying the night and trying to intervene when he’s not worrying himself to death.”

“I already called the kids at Al and Winry’s. Talk about a guilt trip.” Roy kicked off his boots as he began upbuttoning his coat.

“You know they don’t like it when either of us is away without them.” Roy pulled the phone away from his ear as Ed began yelling a stream of curses, certain to deafen Roy and everyone on the side of the phone with Ed.

“What was that about?” Roy asked when the cursing stopped.

“Carlida. She was trying to sit on my lap and slid off, raking my leg with her claws.”

Roy carefully hung his coat in the closet, dragging the phone and its long cord with him. “How’d she manage that through your pants?”

“Not wearing any.”

The fuhrer felt his lower regions begin to awaken at those words. “Why’s that?” he asked as he quickly undid the decorative flap on his pants, followed by the article of clothing beneath.

“I was getting changed when you called.” Roy smiled to himself. Over nine years of marriage under his belt, and Ed still was naïve about the finer aspects of dirty talk and phone sex.

“I’m doing the same right now,” Roy said, calmly, trying to remind himself that while the need remained with his nether regions, he really did need to get the white dress shirt off.

“You’re stripping while you’re talking?” Ed asked, his voice turning husky ever-so-slightly.

“It’s been a long day, Fullmetal, what do you expect?” Roy walked the phone over to the bed, collapsing on the soft piece of furniture. “I’m done now. Down to my boxers and undershirt.”

“Same here.” Roy could almost see the nervous look on Ed’s face, not at what they were doing, but at where to proceed next. “We’re really horrible to be doing this.” Well, that hadn’t been what Roy had been expecting. “I mean, with Wrath downstairs, I shouldn’t, and you’re supposed to be thinking about the treaty.”

“Well, if we’re really horrible, let’s at least be really horrible together,” Roy said, dipping his hand beneath the boxer shorts toward the source of the bulge beneath. “Do you know for the last week I’ve wanted to screw you senseless, wanted you to do me and just keep alternating until we passed out from exhaustion?” Roy could hear Ed grunting on the other side. Apparently, Ed’s willpower was not improving with age. “Tell me, where is your hand?"

“Where do you think Fuhrer Bastard?”

With a sigh, Roy inwardly shook his head. “Though my imagination is more than capable, Ed, humor me.”

“I’ve got my boxers down over my hips, and I’ve got my left hand wrapped around myself. My right is so cold, and I’m moving it over my nipples, pretending I’m doing it to you.”

“And I’ve got my hand wrapped around myself, wishing it was you,” Roy moved his hand , pumping, knowing it wasn’t going to last long, and guessing by the sounds on the other side, his husband was closer even than he was. “If I was home, I’d be straddling you right now, grabbing hold of you firmly, making you cry out before engulfing you in one swift movement, letting your cock hit the back of my throat, then taking it all the way in. I know how much you like that.” Roy could hear a faint humming and moaning on the other end, trying to imagine Ed’s mouth doing that around his member, finding himself growing closer.

“Damn it, Roy, I want you home,” Ed said, half panting. Roy knew the sound in his husband’s voice, knowing it was close, so he sped up his own movements, picturing himself on top of Ed, each of them doing their best to pleasure the other. “I want you home so I can damn well do what I want with you.”

“And what’s that?” Roy asked, barely getting those three words out without moaning at his own mind’s picture.

“I want to bury myself in you. To hell with you being seme. I want to top you, I want to screw you, and I want you to damn well scream my name until you lose your voice.”

Roy took his previous thoughts back; Ed knew exactly what to do with phone sex and was getting damn good at it. Those words of dominance on Ed’s part were all Roy needed to hear. With a cry into the receiver, he came, soiling his boxers, but thankfully not the blankets on the emissary’s guest bed. He heard Ed following him shortly after. Then, not long afterwards, there was a faint chuckling on the other end.

“I outlasted you,” Ed said with a smug sound in his voice.