Worlds Collide

A/N: Nomme de Plume, Well, I think it's pretty obvious the two villainesses aren't going to stay loyal to one another once they stop needing each other. Glad you like Frank. I was worried about the phone sex bit. The Candy Made Me Do It, I know what it's like when electronics rebel. I didn't want the kid in a cast for too long. Sig and Frank work things out this chapter. And we'll see how Wrath will cope here too. Yea for phone sex, I know. Just glad it wasn't too horrible. I wanted them to be a bit corny over the phone, but not too much. Kuragari, I thought the line was IC for Ed, too. Thanks.

Also, this chapter's short. I know. Sorry, but it just felt complete here.

Chapter 19

Learning to Deal

That morning, Ed woke up, feeling relaxed, still a bit sated from the night before, and warm. He really didn’t want to go downstairs and play nursemaid to Wrath. He knew it was selfish, that it was unfair for him to feel a bit put-out to have to help the former homunculus who’d sacrificed everything without the knowledge he would survive going through the Gate. But Ed couldn’t help but share Aideen’s sentiments that Wrath needed to collect himself and find a reason to go on.

Still, as Ed made his way downstairs, he realized he wasn’t the first awake, hearing Al’s voice from outside loudly expressing doubts about whatever it was that was going on.

The blond quickly went downstairs, grateful he’d had the foresight to take a shower last night rather than just falling asleep after his phone call to Roy as his body had insisted he do. Ed was still dressed in his pajamas as he went through the kitchen and saw Al standing on the back porch, yelling at Sig and Frank, who stood, looking as though they were ready to spar.

“Look, if you need to take out your anger at my double out on me, go ahead,” Frank said. “But once we’re done with this, we’re done.”

Sig nodded.

“What the hell’s going on?” Ed asked Al.

“Frank is letting Sig use him as a punching bag.”

“He isn’t going to fight back.”

“Probably, but do you think it’s going to matter?”

“Damn it,” Ed muttered. Then he yelled to the two men. “If either of you need hospitalization after this, don’t expect me to take care of you.”

At that, the two men went at one another, and while Sig was definitely at an advantage with size—not to mention years of living with Izumi—Frank’s fighting style, something he called boxing, was obviously unfamiliar to the butcher. The two men were fighting in earnest, and each and every time one’s fist made contact with the other man, there was no doubt to the Elric brothers that there was a great deal of pain involved. Sig’s punches were far deadlier than Frank’s but it amazed Ed how many the former spy managed to get in on Sig, as he was twice as fast in both his arms and on his feet.

When the two seemed to have gotten that out of their system, Frank looked up to Sig, grasping his ribs, where a particularly nasty strike had landed late into the fight. The blond with dark roots was breathing heavily, Sig rubbing his jaw and stomach.

“Are we done?” Frank gasped out.

“Yes,” Sig said, saying nothing more.

The two walked back up to the porch, and Ed couldn’t help but notice Frank was going to have a nice shiner on his left eye. Usually, in a spar, the rule was not to hit the face, “Please tell me you have ice,” Frank said as he passed. “Or that you can at least make some quickly.”

“Yeah, you idiot. I’ve got ice.”

********

Nicholas ran with his sister to greet their giant of a grandfather when they spotted him, but grew worried when their innocent hug seemed to hurt Sig.

“What’s wrong, Grandpa Sig?” he asked.

“Frank and I were sparring earlier.”

“He hurt you?” Aideen asked, sounding as surprised as Nicholas knew he was.

“A little. We both got carried away.”

When he glanced in the study, Nicholas spotted Frank, laying on the sofa on his side, a bag of ice on his left eye and his left side. “Looks like you got really carried away.”

Nicholas watched as Aideen went into the study, looking concerned over the strange man from the other side of the Gate. He knew it wasn’t Frank’s fault, but Nicholas hated how much of his sister’s time the older man was getting, and how serious she became when discussing the weapons and machines of that world. Still, he couldn’t remember his sister being as excited as she’d been when Frank had promised to show the proper design for an instrument called a piano, which he said he felt she could learn easily enough. Nicholas was absolutely tone-deaf, like his papa and, from what he’d been told, his mother, but Aideen had a definite interest in music combined with at least the ear for it. Nicholas had seen the same interest in his daddy, but figured it was an area that there just hadn’t been time for him to explore.

Nicholas saw his daddy and Uncle Al out on the back porch, working on some form of new transmutation. The boy had learned a long time ago when the brothers were bent over stacks of papers like that, it meant something had their nearly undivided attention. Rather than disturb them, he made his way to the library, glancing in to see if Wrath was asleep.

He wasn’t. He was sitting in his wheelchair, looking out the window, looking lost in thought. That at least seemed a good sign. Normally, the man with the funny braided hair looked vacant in moments like these. Maybe it was having Grandpa Sig there; Nicholas had heard his fathers saying that his Grandpa Sig and Wrath were more or less father and son.

Nicholas wasn’t exactly sure how to just approach the former homunculus, but remembered that there were still a few cookies left in the kitchen. He went back out to the kitchen, while Sig was in with Frank and Aideen, listening to the somewhat far-fetched stories that the blond man told. He got a glass from the drying rack, since he couldn’t begin to reach the cupboard where they were kept, then got the milk from the fridge to pour into it. He grinned, thinking how much his father still hated the white liquid, while his papa constantly teased him about it. Replacing the milk bottle, he grabbed a plate and loaded it with the last remaining cookies.

Going back to Wrath’s room, careful not to drop the cookies or spill the milk, Nicholas cleared his throat to let the man know he was there. The dark head turned to him, at least acknowledging his presence.

“I brought you milk and cookies,” he said, setting them on the table near where Wrath sat. “I know you’re still sad and hurt.” He watched as Wrath looked at the cookies tentatively. “Daddy didn’t make them, so they’re good.” Nicholas covered his mouth to see if his daddy was anywhere he could have heard him. Seeing he was in the clear, he whispered, “Daddy learned to cook a lot of stuff when Aideen and I were babies, but he still burns anything he puts in the oven.”

Sitting on Wrath’s bed, Nicholas beamed as he saw Wrath smile, just a bit.

“I know you’re still upset, but you know everyone here is worried about you, don’t you? We want you to feel better. Even Aideen.”

Wrath looked as though he wanted to argue, but the words still didn’t come. The rest thought the older man was choosing not to talk, but Nicholas had seen the former homunculus struggle just as he was now. Nicholas realized what even the adults didn’t. Wrath couldn’t speak. Though it was probably that psycho-whatever-logical word that he’d heard his Auntie toss around a few times on the subject, Nicholas only knew that no matter how hard Wrath tried, the words just wouldn’t come out.

“But you need to remember the good things, and remember that you at least got to know him.” Nicholas bit his lip when he realized that sounded bitter. “You know that my mother died before I was born, and even though I’ve heard a lot of great stories about her, how much I look like her, how good a shot she was, and all that kind of stuff.” The boy folded his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “I would have liked to have known her, even for just a little while. I know that even though Papa and Daddy miss her, they still say how glad they were just to have known her and that they wouldn’t trade that for anything.

“And I don’t know if your boyfriend was anything like my daddy aside from how much he looked like him, but I know Daddy doesn't like seeing you like this. Would he?"

With that Nicholas left the room.

********

“Nicholas Maes,” Ed said, loudly, using a stern tone of voice just on the lighter side of yelling for the boy.

The little blond came running out into the kitchen, looking up at his father innocently.

“Don’t give me that look. You ate the last of the cookies, didn’t you?”

“Why did you think it was me?” the boy asked, rather than denying the accusation.

“It wasn’t?”

“Well, I took them, but—”

“Nicholas, there was six huge cookies left in the cookie jar. I’m surprised you don’t have a stomach ache.”

“But I—”

Before the boy could say any more, there was a noise in the hallway, Ed looking out to find Wrath, wheeling his chair through the hall, an empty plate and glass on his lap. Making it to the archway of the kitchen but no further because of the width of the chair, he held up the dishes to an astonished Ed.

“Thank you,” Ed said, placing the dishes in the sink.

With warm smile despite the lingering hurt, Wrath patted Nicholas’s head and signaled to the boy to get him a pen and paper. Happily doing so, Ed’s son ran to the study, returning with a legal pad and pen. He handed them to the former sin, who shakily began to write.

Do you have anything to eat?

“Of course. What would you like?”

Anything. I’m starving.

Ed turned to the fridge, looking for some leftover vegetable soup, glancing over his shoulder at Nicholas. “I’m sorry for blaming you for the cookies.”

“Well, I did take them.” Nicholas looked over at the man in the chair. “I just hope he doesn’t get sick for eating those six cookies and drinking a big glass of milk.”