Travelers

Y\'know, I really liked Russel and Fletcher as characters and I\'m always surprised at how little these two are used in fanfiction.
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Chiyo-chan\'s dad... - Osaka, Azumanga Daioh
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Ranen licked her lips slowly, giving him a drowsy look. “What can I do for you, Al?” She had her feet out in front of her, leaning her back against the house.

Al stood before her, shoulders back, arms crossed.

Y’know Al…Ed…he’s gone, Al. You probably won’t ever find him.

“I want to know what it is that Winry doesn’t want me to know.”

Ranen smiled, closing her eyes and taking a pull from her cigarette. “What is it that she doesn’t want you to know?”

Al nodded firmly. “Yes.”

She squinted up at him. “You sure you wanna bake that cake?”

Al just looked at her for a moment—perhaps for her choice in analogies.

“It’s not always perfect double-layers and chocolate frosting. Sometimes it tastes pretty damn terrible.”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t. Well that’s good. But I value my life. So, make up an excuse to get out of here and I’ll come with you this time. God knows that Trigham boy will be all too happy to stay.”

Al did something of a double take. “Er…what?”

“He’s got a thing for Winry.”

Al felt his eyes get as big as saucers. “He can’t do that!”

Ranen cocked an eyebrow.

“Winry isn’t…Winry…she…she loves my brother, doesn’t she?”

Ranen gave him an exasperated look. “How the hell would I know?”

Al pondered this new information for several moments. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

“I’m impressed with the dignified way that came out. You could always walk in there and kill him. He’d be no match for you, you know.”

Al blinked at her, appalled. “I’m not going to do that!”

Ranen grinned at him, raising her foot over her knee and snuffing out her cigarette in the rubber soul. “So, what do you want from me?”

Al glared at her. “I want you to tell me what Winry stopped you from saying.”

“How do you know I wasn’t just going to tell you about this nice lamp I saw at an auction in Central.”

Al straightened and gave her an incredibly cool look. “If you’re not going to tell me, just say so.”

“Just so,” she said, smiling and standing up. “Like I said, make up a mission for yourself and when you leave—I’ll come with you. Then we’ll talk. Winry will be watching you like a hawk while we’re in the same house. In fact, she’s probably watching right now, sharpening her flatheads and hammers.”

Al looked around uneasily. “Er, well…I hope not. When I left the table she stayed…Russel started talking to her.”

Ranen snorted with laughter. “Well good. I’m sure ol’ Russel will charm the hell out of her.”

Al’s mind flashed to the photograph of Ed, Winry and himself on the sideboard and felt an incredible flare of protectiveness in him again. “He’d better not.”

“And what will you do if he does?”

Al stared at the ground, considering this. He had no idea.

Ranen grinned at him.

“We should make him come with us,” Al muttered, scowling at her smile.

Ranen burst out laughing. “Well, I suppose he could—if it’s what you want. Of course, he may come back and nark on you.”

Al looked at her, puzzled. “Nark on me?”

“To Winry. She’s going to take my head off if she finds out.”

“Find out what?”

Ranen smiled mysteriously. “You’ll have to wait for that.”

“So…we shouldn’t take him?”

Ranen shrugged. “That’s your choice. Leave him here with Winry—or make him go with us to keep an eye on him.”

Al looked at the ground. “All right…”



So, two days later, Alphonse picked up Ed’s old suitcase, stretched and walked downstairs.

Winry was in the kitchen. He scowled to see Russel there also, leaning on the counter, looking down at Winry with a soft expression on his face as she stirred something in a bowl. He was a little too close, Al thought, as Russel murmured something—making Winry chuckle—and gently taking the bowl from her to stir the contents. Winry looked a little embarrassed.

“You don’t need to do that…”

Russel gave her a charming smile. Al felt his blood pressure skyrocket. “I want to help you out. I can’t have you cooking for all of us.”

“I only cook like this when I have guests. Usually I don’t bother.”

“I don’t want us to be a burden. You’re kind enough to let us stay.”

“You’re friends. Of course I’d let you stay—this house is usually empty anyway.”

“That’s sweet of you. It’s amazing that every man within a hundred mile radius isn’t banging down your door.”

Winry smiled a little nervously again. “Why would they?”

Russel chuckled. “Why wouldn’t they? Pretty auto-mail specialist like you.”

If Edward were here, he’d rip him limb from limb.

Al let his suitcase hit the ground with a heavy thunk and glared at Russel when he and Winry turned around.

“Oh, good morning, Al.” Winry said brightly, seeming (at least Al thought…or perhaps hoped) to take the opportunity to get away from Russel and approach him. “Are you hungry?” Then she spied his suitcase. “…are you leaving already?”

Al smiled, completely ignoring Russel, who was looking a bit miffed. “Yeah. I got a letter yesterday from the Colonel. He’s asked me to come see him.”

“Not about a job, I hope.”

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

“I suppose this will be dangerous?”

Al shrugged, giving her a sunny smile. “Who knows?”

Winry laughed. “Oh, you remind me of Ed when you do that! So vague. You drive me crazy!”

Al’s smile turned softer.

“Well,” Winry snorted. “I suppose it doesn’t surprise me. Ranen took off early this morning (she told me she saw the Colonel and Hawkeye—I’m a little surprised they haven’t hooked up by now, you know? Or well, maybe not—Hawkeye was always pretty serious about her work). You know how she is, coming and going in weird intervals. Although it was nice to get that damn cigarette smell out of the house. Looks like the only ones who’ll be staying any longer are Russel and Fletcher.”

Al fought to keep his face impassive. She already left?! “Actually, the Colonel asked me to bring Russel with me.”

Winry ticked her head to one side. Russel straightened, looking outraged. “Why?”

Al swallowed. “He just said he wanted us to come, evidently he’s in need of a few good alchemists.”

Russel gave him a suspicious look. “Why? He’s a first class alchemist.”

“He hasn’t done alchemy since he killed the Furher. He was demoted to Corporal.”

Russel blinked. “Than why do you still call him Colonel?”

“Because that’s the rank he deserves. The Furher was with the enemy.”

Russel looked at him hard. Winry said, “Well, what about Fletcher?”

Al shrugged. “He just asked for Russel. Fletcher should probably stay here.”

“Who says I’m going to go?” Russel snapped, glaring.

Al shrugged with his left shoulder. “You’ve met Roy Mustang, he wouldn’t ask for us without a good reason. And he said he needed good alchemists. We’re probably the only decent ones he knows besides Armstrong.” That was a lie, of course, but Russel didn’t need to know that.

“He can’t order me to come. I’m not with the military.”

“I’m not either but I respect the Colonel’s judgment. He’s never put me in any unnecessary danger.”

Winry snorted. “I beg to differ.”

Al smiled at her. “We were with the military then from what you told me. It was required.”

“But you’re not now.”

“I don’t know why he asked for us. He didn’t say but, again, the Colonel wouldn’t ask me to come all the way to Central without a good reason. And he obviously knows your reputation Russel.”

“How did he know I was here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he saw you in Central. Ranen said she ran into him, maybe she told him.”

“But when she met us on the train—”

“She probably sent him a letter. She’s gotten to know him a lot better lately.” Another lie. “Or maybe he just saw the three of you on the train together and made a guess that you would be here. I don’t know. I’m not the Colonel. But Roy isn’t stupid. So however he found out, that’s all there is to it.”

“I want to see this letter,” Winry said suddenly, looking suspicious.

Luckily, Al had thought up an answer to this. “You can’t. He said I should destroy it as soon as I got it. I already got rid of it. So whatever he wants us for; it must be important.”

Winry sat down at the kitchen table. She gave Al a hard look and then shook her head. “Just be careful then. Okay?”

Al nodded and smiled for her. “Of course, else I won’t get chocolate chip pancakes out of you ever again.”

That made her laugh.

Russel looked angry enough to kill. “Fine,” he said tartly. He looked at Winry. “Would you mind if Fletcher stayed here so he can get back on the train when he needs to go back?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go get packed then,” he said, glaring at Al. He stomped away.

Al looked at Winry regretfully. “I was hoping he would take that better. I thought he would be excited; Roy Mustang asking for his help.”

Winry shrugged. “Do you want anything to eat before you go?”

“Thanks but no thanks—I’d like to get on the road as soon as possible.”

“All right. I hope Fletcher likes to eat more than you do. I don’t want all these leftovers.” She stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on his face. She half-smirked at him. “You and your damn secrets. Don’t get yourself blown up, okay?” She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

She shook her head at him. “Don’t say things like that.”



Ed could remember the argument clear as day.

“Edward! I am not your brother!”

Edward felt everything in him tense. “I’m aware of that!”

“Are you?” Alfons snapped, looking at him with a mixture of anger and pity. “Sometimes I’m not sure you do! You never leave this house. You don’t socialize and you treat me as if you must protect me or like I must be instructed. I may be a year younger than you but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Just because this supposed brother of yours and I share the same—“

That did it. “Supposed?!”

For a split-second, Alfons froze and then he hardened his face. “Edward, you are absolutely convinced this other world of yours exists! It’s impossible! It’s—“

“Don’t you ever fucking tell me its impossible! Just because you’ve never seen it!” Ed roared. “My brother exists! They all do!” Denial reared up inside of him and Ed refused to acknowledge it.

“But Ed,” Alfons looked at him helplessly, still angry. “Even if there is another world…can you ever get back?! You say no—and if there really is some other mystical universe I feel bad for you because you can’t go back, however; that is no reason to push these brother issues on me! I am not Alphonse!”

But you are…

“I am completely and utterly aware that you are not Al!”

“Than why do you treat me like him?!”

Ed opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out. He struggled with himself for a minute.

“You can’t go on living this way, Edward. If you’re from some other universe or whatever—I don’t care. Fine. Believe whatever you like but not at my expense! I won’t be treated like someone who’s already dead!”

Blind rage hit Ed like a steam engine. “He’s not dead!” Ed picked up his plate and mug and threw them, shattering against the wall. He stared at the smashed porcelain, every muscle rock hard. I’m going to hit him. I’m going to kill him. I need to get out of here.

Alfons snatched his arm, starting to form words of anger and reproach. Ed jerked his hand away and bolted for the door.

“Edward!”

Ed ignored him, stomping down the stairs and outside.

The night was cool and clear, distant lights from pubs down the street warming the dark night.

Ed took several deep breathes in an attempt to calm himself down. He swallowed hard, walking quickly past the houses and shops, down a few dark alleys and exiting several minutes later by a river. He sighed as he sat down cross-legged by the water, putting his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his palms.

That was real fucking mature, Edward Elric.

Alfons had been kind enough to give you a fucking place to stay and you lose it like that.

He’d been here for a little over a year; he should be over it by now. He should have completely accepted it and moved on. He shouldn’t have pressed Alfons so much. He shouldn’t have been such a burden. He shouldn’t have…

So many mistakes…

Ed rubbed his temples, staring at the water. “What would Winry say if she were here?”

That made him laugh miserably, choking on some raw emotion that Ed couldn’t express. “She’d probably yell at you and slap you.” That made him laugh again, shoving his fingers into his hair so he was staring at his knees. He shuddered.

I’m such a moron.

How the hell was he gonna walk back in there? He should just go get his little suitcase and leave. He’d have his possessions, he had his knowledge and he had his memories. He didn’t need anything else. He was smart enough to travel on his own, he’d done it before in this place, and he could do it again. He was keen enough to pick up any skills he needed.

He didn’t need people. He didn’t need Alfons. He’d find someone else to study rockets with. He didn’t need these attachments and friendships. Who knew what would happen? It only made it harder when Ed picked up and left again. And if he ever did get back home, he didn’t want to feel as though he was leaving someone behind. It wasn’t worth it.

I won’t be treated like someone who’s already dead!

“He can’t be dead…”

But what if he is?

“He can’t be. I did the transmutation perfectly. He should be fine.”

And if you screwed up?

Ed clenched his jaw and refused to consider this question. If he did, he might just jump into the river and drown himself.

Even if there is another world…can you ever get back?!

“I never said no…I…,” he chuckled miserably to himself. “Can’t give up hope. Right? Ha. Can’t give up hope.”

Ed laughed again at the absurdity of it.

“How can anyone put faith in hope? There’s no such thing as real hope, is there?” He felt himself calm, looking out over the water with that misery-laden smile on his face. It wasn’t worth it. Time to move on again. Never settle down too long, it only creates problems when you have to leave.

Time to move on.

He shoved himself up from the ground, feeling the wave of dizziness that came with an abated adrenaline rush. He stared at the water.

He smiled.

Chuckling to himself, Edward took off his coat and then his boots and socks. He unbuttoned his vest, leaving him in his white shirt and dark pants.

Edward took a running leap into the water.

He did not, however, attempt to drown himself. He swam about or floated on his back, gazing at the stars. He was lucky he’d learned to swim. He’d never been all that great at it but the water here wasn’t that deep.

Edward dunked himself under the water, yanking out his ponytail and tying the rubber band around his wrist. He went nearer the shore, so he could stand up and took a deep sigh, calming himself entirely. He looked into the water, his yellow hair falling around his wet face, seeing his fleshy toes on one side and his metal toes on the other. Water streamed from his hair and face like tears though, interrupting the study of his feet.

A chill settled over him, reminding him of the time. He bit his tongue.

May as well get it over with. He’d pack up and leave in the morning.

Resigning himself to this, Edward turned around.

He blinked.

Alfons was sitting on the shore with a sad look on his face. “I went too far…”

Ed tensed and climbed out of the water, rolling up his sleeve to shake the droplets from his auto-mail. He squeezed water from his hair and swiftly tied it back up, going to his clothes at the same time and shrugging on his coat. He didn’t bother with his shoes and socks.

He glared at the ground.

This figured. It really did. Who did Alfons think he was anyway? Winry? Al?

Ed gave a cruel smirk at that thought.

Ed. How fucking old are you?

Edward closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. Alfons had done nothing but help him out.

He turned around.

Alfons was standing. “I’m sorry.”

Ed shook his head, scratching his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t believe you either if you’d come to—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Edward looked at him.

Alfons looked back sadly. “I shouldn’t have said that about your brother.”

Ed half-smiled sadly. “You still don’t really believe me, though.”

Alfons shrugged. “We’ll agree to disagree. You tell me your crazy stories, I’ll tell you how crazy they are.”

Ed snorted, looking away but still half-smiling. “Yeah. Sure thing.”

And just like that, Ed’s plans to leave were forgotten.


It was a strange silence that carried Alfons and Ed back to their flat. When they entered, Edward went to his room and changed into a t-shirt and some loose pants, hanging his wet clothes on the windowsill.

He sat down on his bed and put his forehead in his hands again. He sighed, mind wandering back to Al and Winry. “What am I suppose to do?”

But nothing is his sparse room answered him.

There was a knock on the door and Alfons entered with a mug of coffee in one hand. He sat down next to Ed on the bed and gave it to him.

The two young men were silent for a minute.

Ed sipped his coffee, cradling the warmth in his shivering, damp hands. “Thank you.”

Alfons nodded. He looked at Ed. “Tell me about your brother.”

Ed’s eyes snapped up from his coffee, silently surprised.

“Please?”

Ed lowered the mug to rest on his knees. He nodded, turning his gaze to the floor. “All right…”

And now, months later, as he was sitting in front of Alfons, telling him about Armstrong and Mustang, he felt a wave of homesickness sweep over him. He choked and coughed to cover it and continued stoically onward.

It was all he could do, after all.

It was all he had.


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