Once upon a timeline...

"Young man...? Hey, you there!"

"Huh…? Oh, no!"

"It's alright!"

...there was a small creature trapped in glass. A dwarf in a flask.

"Look over here!"

"Um... Yeah?"

"Hey now, can't you at least bring yourself to be a little surprised or something?"

"What do I get for being surprised?"

He was an artificial life-form, a Homunculus, created with the life force of an alchemist's assistant, from another man's blood – a young one, still an adolescent… and apparently he was a bold one, too.

"Hmm, you show no fear. I like that. What's your name?"

"I'm number Twenty Three."

"Not your number! I want you to tell me your real name."

"I'm a slave. I don't have one."

The creature originated from a Gate of Knowledge. So he knew many things, since the moment he came into existence. He knew the faces of his creators, as well as their ancestors seven generations back. Not their identities, however. The fact that his blood-giver was a slave, for instance, was quite a surprise.

"A slave? You mean a person without any rights or freedoms,
someone trafficked and deed as a possession?"

"...Deeded? What's that?"

"It's when a piece of property is transferred to another person."

He didn't like that fact. His only relative, a dumb slave? What did that say about him?

"Seems you're not all that bright, are you..."

"Hey, get outta here!"

"How can I have possibly have been born from someone as stupid as you...?"

Still, they were relatives by blood – family, the only one he had. Perhaps deep down, his blood-brother had hidden potential.

"You are the one who gave me blood, right?"

"...I guess so. He said he was going to use it for an experiment."

"I exist today, because you gave me your blood. ...Thank you."

If he did, there was only one way to find out. He started with the first step of granting someone independence: giving them an identity.

"Let's see... number Twenty Three isn't going to cut it.
I think I'll give you a name of your own!"

"Give me a name? Who are you?"

"You want a noble sounding one, right?
Let's see... Theo! Theophrastus Bombastus-"

"That's too long!"

"...Hm? Oh yeah, you're not that smart.
Maybe we shouldn't put too many syllables in it."

"Hey, you! I'm plenty smart!"

"Well, how about Van? Van Hohenheim. How does that sound?"

He named the young man after a scientist of old, a name that promised fame and success.

"So Van Hohenheim, huh...? I think I can remember that."

"It's spelled... oh. You don't know how to read and write, do you."

"I don't need to read and write to do my work!"

"...Your slave work."

If only he could guide his naive mind towards ambition...

"Don't you even want freedom?
Are you going to live out the rest of your life as a slave without the rights of a real person?"

Then, perhaps, it would open a window of opportunity for himself as well.

"In that case you're no different than me, trapped within this stuffy flask.
Let me teach you, Van Hohenheim."

The young man learned fast and eagerly, proving himself beyond expectations. Soon, even his Master started to notice him.

"All things are made from One, and in the end, All things return to One."

"In other words, One is All."

"Indeed, and All is One, as well."

"All is ultimately of the One, so if what follows is not included in the One, then All is nothing."

"You have passed. You are now an alchemist Hohenheim, well done child."

"I'm still only fit to be an assistant. My skill is nothing near yours, Master."

But even as time passed, at his core, the youth remained surprisingly humble. Kind, even.

"I'm grateful to you."

"Oh? For what?"

"I live as well as I do now because of the knowledge you gave me.
And, I've also earned Master's respect..."

It was a strange thing, for a slave, to remain so innocent and undamaged in such a cruel world.

"Thanks to you, maybe someday…
I'll even be able to get married and have a family!"

"...A family, huh?"

But no one, not even Hohenheim... would consider him to be an equal. But then, how could they? After all, the Homunculus wasn't human.

(He was not bitter. And he certainly wasn't envious. Surely not.)

For all of their friendship and the blood connection between them, the youth still did not count him as family, because of what he was. Weak. Trapped. Insignificant.

Then again, so were all humans, apparently.

"How inconvenient for you humans.
Unless you form communities and breed, your species can't continue to exist."

"Don't call it 'breeding'!
Whether or not that's a concept you're able to understand,
that's how humans find happiness.
We live for the bonds we form with friends and family members.
It's who we humans are."

He didn't need family anyway. So what if he couldn't share the same dream?

(No bitterness at all, only hard logic. He was a logical creature, emotions did not rule him.)

"Sure, whatever you say."

"Okay then, what is it that makes you happy?"

What would make him happy, indeed?

He wasn't sure, but he knew one thing: no being bereft of freedom can be satisfied with their life. Not even knowledge of countless wonders that the Homunculus possessed could ever make up for how limited he felt, imprisoned behind the glass.

"Well, I'd hate to be guilty of asking too much…
But I think I'd be happy if only I could just leave this flask…"

But the reason the Dwarf in the Flask had been created in the first place was because of his knowledge. His origins allowed him to know things beyond this world; things no man had ever discovered. He was a literal gateway to enlightenment beyond humankind's understanding.

"His Majesty is expecting you."

The Homunculus possessed a wealth of priceless information…

"Immortality? Why would someone
who already has so much power and prosperity need such a thing?"

...among which, a way to extend one's life through sacrificing others.

"Enough chatter. Immortality. Tell me, is it possible, or isn't it?"

So when Kyros, the King of Xerxes, a selfish man who feared death a great deal, asked the Homunculus whether immortality was possible... the creature saw his long awaited window of opportunity.

"Okay, I will tell you how to achieve immortality."

Then an idea occurred.

"But... I have a request, if I may."

The Dwarf in the Flask felt kinship with Hohenheim. How could he not, with how parallel their fates were? How both of them were trapped by circumstances beyond their control?

"What is it?"

"I wish to participate in the ritual when you perform it,
along with a friend of mine."

The Homunculus wanted to share his victory with Hohenheim – a victory which could only be achieved with his help. The youth might not acknowledge their blood relation the same way he did, but it still meant something to him. The Dwarf in the Flask owed him a debt for his existence.

"That is a very bold request!"

"But if I were not to participate, I would perish because of it!
Surely you understand why I wish to partake in it?
And someone needs to carry my flask, right?
If my friend and I stand at the edge of the circle,
we won't gain nearly as much power as you, Your Majesty.
It will merely extend our lives beyond that of an average human's.
That way we all get what we want: Equivalent Exchange."

Using his silver tongue he deceived them all, tricking them to let him be present alongside Hohenheim during the transmutation. King Kyros agreed, under the condition that Hohenheim would be kept in the dark about it. The Homunculus played along. After all, when it was over... It's not like any of the King's orders would matter any longer.

"The true center of the transmutation circle is right there, where you're standing!"

"...It is?"

"Surely, you know that your blood is within me! I used it to open the doorway.
Blood Brother of mine, Van Hohenheim…
You and I, are in the center of everything!"

He had thought that after the initial shock, Hohenheim would be grateful. It was for their mutual benefit. Surely, he would eventually understand.

"What's going on here? What is this?! What have you done?!"

...He'd thought wrong.

"To thank you for your blood, I've given you a name, and I've given you knowledge.
And now, I've given you a body that would live forever."

Hohenheim wasn't happy nor thankful. Instead, he was horrified beyond description.

The Homunculus should have seen it coming really – the man had always been softhearted. Van Hohenheim cursed his plan, his gift and him, then immediately abandoned Xerxes. The initial reaction itself wasn't all unexpected. However… his blood-brother's rejection still hurt.

The broken scream that came from the former slave's lips would echo in his memories for many years to come.

(What more did he need? He'd given him everything. Why was nothing he did ever enough?)

Perhaps, Hohenheim simply needed time to adjust. So when the man fled to the East the Homunculus did nothing to stop him, heading in the opposite direction. Maybe one day, the other would see his way and join him.

It was lonely, without Hohenheim. But, who needed humans anyway? They were weak, flawed, pathetic creatures. The only use they had was being a source of energy.

He would create his own family. One that would never leave him.

No rejection would hurt him ever again.

(Greed's desertion – while an unforeseen development – did not hurt. After all, he had moved past all human weaknesses, purged himself clean of such imperfections.)

However, in the end…

"You're incapable of believing in yourself."

...Even God rejected him.

...

But then...

The timeline shifted.

"好种出好苗，好树结好桃。" Ava said softly upon entering, taking down her hood. "晚上好, Mr. Meng."

Zemin Meng grinned at her in his usual unsettling way, and she suppressed a groan. Although the Xingnese man was a... friend, of sorts, she definitely didn't like making deals with him. The payment he demanded for his services was an absolute nightmare. But, if nothing else, she knew she could trust him to be discreet. Cat Ears specialized in confidentiality.

"Hello there, miss Ava! It's been such a long time!" Zemin bowed at her theatrically, kissing her hand. "What do I owe the pleasure?" He eyed her wooden necklace with a smirk. "Finally looking into your little trinket, perhaps?"

Ava quickly retraced her hand and used it to cover her neck. "Not yet. But… Maybe later."

Zemin blinked at her, for once visibly taken aback. "Huh."

"What?" she asked defensively.

"You've been refusing my offer for nearly five years, darling. What changed?"

She looked away with a blush. "Mas- Eiliar... insists on giving me a wedding present, but I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Well I'll be damned!" the Xingnese exclaimed in delight. "At last, you snagged the man of your dreams, didn't you!"

"I didn't snag him," she said, affronted.

"Oh, but you did, you lovely desert flower!" Zemin cackled. "I knew this day would come! Oh, what a wonderful turn of events! A slave girl and a nobleman, falling in love! It's just like the folk tale! Have I told you that story yet?"

"Yes, Mr. Meng," Ava sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "You have. So many times."

"Aw, but what's one more?" the obnoxious man flirted, putting an arm around her shoulders. At least, she took comfort in the knowledge that he was never serious. He was married – and quite happily, in fact. Didn't stop him from charming every girl that wandered into his tavern, though. "What do you say, darling, you and me, and a bottle of sake in front of the fireplace?"

"As pleasant as that sounds," she replied gracefully, well aware that Zemin's favorite drink tasted like vomit "I'm here on business, Mr. Meng."

Zemin, sensing the weight of her tone, immediately grew serious. His slanted eyes narrowed in focus, similar to those of a predator.

"Go on."

"There was another assassination attempt."

"Considering your wedding plans, I don't believe it was successful."

"It almost was!" she snapped, distressed. "They attacked him at a cemetery! When he was visiting his father's grave!"

Zemin whistled lowly. "Is that not, like, a major taboo for you Xerxesians?"

"Exactly my point," said Ava, running her fingers through her bangs. "I know assassins don't have any honor, it only makes sense. But desecrating the burial ground? No sane citizen of Xerxes would dare to try such a thing."

"So what you're thinking..." Zemin rubbed his chin. "...is that the assassin was a foreigner?"

"They have to be," she insisted. "Ishvalans obey the same customs regarding burial grounds as we do. Westerners and northerners rarely visit Xerxes and they're never subtle. That leaves..."

"A Xingnese assassin," the man breathed out, impressed. "They're not pulling any punches, are they?"

"You know as well as I do that hiring someone like that would cost a fortune. It confirms our suspicions – that whoever wants... Eiliar dead is very wealthy. Definitely a noble, very likely a member in the royal court."

The Xingnese leaned on the wall, looking at the ceiling. "That doesn't quite narrow it down, darling. Considering who your lover boy is, there are a lot of courtiers who'd rather see him dead."

"Enough to spend a small mountain of gold on a Xingnese assassin?" Ava raised her eyebrow in disbelief.

Zemin hummed. "Good point."

"It has to be someone who has vested interest in having Eiliar out of the picture. Someone close to the King."

The man stops looking at the ceiling, turning back to the girl. "I know you won't like this, but-"

"No." She interrupted.

"Ava..."

"Lord Rayan would never."

"Men can be deceiving, darling."

"Not him." She stated with conviction. "I refuse to even consider it."

Zemin sighed tiredly. "One of these days, that stubborn trust of yours will get you in trouble, miss Ava."

"I know I'm not wrong," she simply replied.

He just shrugged.

"Very well. Now," he smiled his shrewd grin. "What job do you have for me?"

Ava opened her mouth, about to speak of the miracle worker who saved her beloved, but at the last second restrained herself, remembering what Eiliar told her.

I do not believe he wishes to be found.

So instead, she said: "Investigate the royal court. Find out if the assassination attempts are related to King's search for immortality."

"Immortality, eh? Wouldn't that be something."

"It's insanity," Ava said flatly. "Those who seek it will have their own hubris become their downfall."

Zemin raised his hands defensively. "It's nice to dream..."

"I'd rather peacefully pass to Garothman young, than spend an eternity aimlessly in this world." Ava responded passionately. "It should be obvious that even if such thing existed, it would be much more a curse than a blessing. Such fate sounds worse than being condemned to Duzakh-"

"Don't get all philosophical with me, I swear I was joking!" Zemin begged, and Ava was almost tempted to continue the topic, just to watch the man squirm. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was existential talk. It was almost funny how easy it was to unbalance the conniving man with the topic.

"In any case," Ava mercifully continued "The assassination attempts started right after the King officially began looking for immortality. I doubt that's a coincidence."

"I agree." Zemin nodded. "I just can't see the connection yet. But if there is one, I will find it." Then the man returned to his usual sneaky, cheerful, flirty self. "Now, miss Ava, about the payment…"

Ava couldn't hold in her exasperated groan this time. This was going to be a long evening.

This was awkward.

It was the main thought in Ed's head as he and Hohenheim walked out of Roshan's mansion side by side.

Operation Hohenheim has been successful. Edward did it. He managed to get him out of the Homunculus' reach before they met – there was no way history would repeat itself now, not as before.

It made him strangely hollow inside. He knew why, but he didn't want to think about it – not now, not in front of Hohenheim.

Hohenheim, who was bright-eyed, freakishly young and following him like a puppy without a complaint. Why wasn't he talking? Why wasn't he asking questions? Edward came out of nowhere and uprooted his entire life in an hour, and he was just… taking it?

Like… what the hell?

Ed knew there was a lot he didn't understand where it came to slavery in Xerxes. Treating people like objects alone was such a foreign concept, that even though rationally he knew those people didn't have rights, that they could be beaten and insulted by bystanders at any moment and it was regarded as normal… he still couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Because, how could you just do that? Did Xerxesians look at slaves and saw pieces of furniture instead of humans? Though honestly, most would treat furniture with more respect than that. Ed just… didn't understand that way of thinking at all.

Messed up as Amestris was, there was one undeniably good thing about it – slavery had been outlawed since its foundation. Now that Ed thought about it, it probably wasn't a coincidence, either. The Homunculus might have been an egotistical monster, but considering his origins, slavery probably rang a sour note for him. It was an unexpected revelation.

Anyway, Ed was currently in an uncomfortable situation for a multitude of reasons. For one, Hohenheim was – even though Edward didn't like that fact – his father. His father, who was about the same age as him. He didn't have a beard, or his glasses, instead he had a baby face. And if that wasn't freaky enough, he looked like a replica of Alphonse. That is, what Al would have looked like at that age, if his body was healthy. The image of Al's emaciated face was seared into his brain. The resemblance… Ed would have called it uncanny, but it made sense. Unfortunately, Ed had no idea how to deal with it.

And now, seeing as Hohenheim clearly wasn't going to start a conversation, the responsibility fell on him. Wonderful.

What could he even say? Ed imagined telling him:

Hello, I'm your son from the future. No, a really distant future. From twentieth century, to be exact. How did you live that long? Oh, an artificial life-form created from your blood used you in an alchemical transmutation, killing all of Xerxes and making you immortal. And then it destroyed another country four centuries later. It was my home. I'm homeless now. But I do have a house. I bought it last week with the gold I forged. Hey, you wanna move in with me?

...yeah, how about no.

"So… 'Twenty Three', huh?" Ed said tentatively.

"Yes, Master?"

Edward's stomach lurched, a sour flavor filling his mouth. Those were not the first words he wanted to hear. He grimaced in disgust.

"Don't call me 'Master'. Don't you ever call me that again." No matter how many grievances he had with his father, he was never going to play that game.

Hohenheim's expression turned nervous, and Ed felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn't lash out on the teen, when he did nothing wrong. He had no way of knowing why his words affected Ed so much.

"Forgive me, Ma-" Hohenheim stuttered, his head subconsciously bowing. "-um… sir. What should I call you, sir?"

The image of the old woman from earlier popped into his mind, and he wondered: did Hohenheim expect to be punished for disrespect?

Well, time to break some customs. The Fullmetal Alchemist was nothing if not good at breaking things down.

"Call me Ed." Ed said, deliberately casual. Then he closed eyes in contemplation with a hum, considering. To make the ground between them truly equal, Hohenheim needed a name that wasn't dehumanizing. "'Twenty Three'… that sucks. Who do you want to be?"

Because the name 'Van Hohenheim' originally came from the Homunculus. So, Ed wasn't sure if it was the name he should carry this time around. If there was any other name he preferred, he should have the freedom to choose something else, with everything else decided for him in his life.

"Is there a name you always wanted to have?"

Hohenheim's face was equivalent of a question mark.

"I don't have a name," he said, befuddled.

"I know that!" Had they not established that already? "That's why I'm asking you."

"I… I don't understand, Mas- sir."

...They were getting nowhere with this conversation.

"Dammit, my father's a simpleton," Ed groaned to himself in Amestrian, covering his face with a hand. "You really are hopeless, aren't you?" he switched back to Xerxesian. Hohenheim apparently did not have one creative bone in his body. He really should have seen that coming.

Then again, creativity was not likely to be encouraged among slaves. Too big of a risk of them getting ideas about self-worth or whatever.

Ed probably should have been patient, and let Hohenheim come up with his own name in his own time. However, he was not that patient. It left to it by himself, it would probably take months. And Edward refused to call him by his slave number.

"I guess that leaves us with one option, then. 'Van Hohenheim'. Is that good enough for you?"

Because Ed had to be honest with himself – he was going to slip up sooner or later, and call him Hohenheim anyway. There was no point in picking anything else.

Hohenheim stared at Edward with utter confusion.

"I asked you, do you like that name?"

The other teen fell silent for a long moment. Then finally, he asked with even more confusion:

"...What?"

Did he even understand what Ed was saying? Was his Xerxesian that bad or something?

"'Van Hohenheim', do you like the name?" Ed repeated slowly, at the end of his rope. "Man, you are such an idiot."

It just slipped out in annoyance, but the results were magical.

Hohenheim's expression changed from dim to defiant, only a spark but it was undeniably fierce. The same glimpse of a fiery, stubborn personality he had seen back in Roshan's office.

Ed accidentally stumbled across Hohenheim's trigger. He was delighted.

"What?" He smirked, provocative. "Aren't you going to talk back at me, Hohenheim?"

Then the confusion returned, much to Ed's dismay. "That's… my name?"

"Yes!" Ed stopped in the middle of the road, throwing his hands in the air. How was he supposed to phrase it for him to get it? "I've been saying that for ten minutes now! Truth, you're so stupid it's frustrating!"

"Me? Stupid?!"

Yes! They were finally getting somewhere!

"Yes you!" Ed childishly poked him. "You're slow and a complete moron!"

Hohenheim's face reddened and he pushed the hand away. "Why, you little…!"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THERE AREN'T ANY CLOTHES HIS SIZE IN THE WHOLE COUNTRY?!" The angry words flowed out of Eds mouth before he could stop himself. He wasn't supposed to lash out, dammit!

But luckily instead of Hohenheim getting scared, it fired him up.

"I'm not stupid! And you're such a brat!" he shouted, then immediately withdrew, but it was enough. Ed smiled in relief.

"Good job, Hohenheim."

"What did I do, sir?" Poor Hohenheim clearly had no idea why he was pleased.

"You finally stopped acting like a pushover," Ed explained happily.

Hohenheim wasn't completely brainwashed. There was potential for him to become a freely thinking, independent individual. It would probably take time to free himself of all the mental chains, but it was there. All he needed was a chance to let those seeds grow.

He became somber at the thought. He was probably the worst possible person to give guidance, especially for something like that. Edward had been free his entire life – even his service as the dog of the military had been voluntary, and the government never owned his mind, body or soul. He had no real understanding of what Van Hohenheim had been through. Still… he had to try.

Al would never… forgive him if he didn't at least try.

(He managed to consciously think about Alphonse, without his mind flashing back to that, for the first time.)

He took a deep breath.

"Listen. I know you've been a slave your whole life. I get that, and I'm sorry. That must have been hard. But you're a free man now. I don't want you to act like a slave anymore, alright? Just… be yourself around me. Like you were just now. And stop calling me 'sir'. I told you my name is Ed."

Van Hohenheim didn't respond. His eyes were wide in shock.

"I guess you need time for this to sink in." Tentatively, he put his hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Hohenheim. You want to get some food? I'm starving."

So overall, his first conversation with the teenage version of his father was… successful? Maybe?

Ed lead Hohenheim to the market, the latter too absorbed by his thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. Finally, the alchemist spotted a food vendor. The middle-aged woman had a huge cauldron with what resembled a stew, but the smell was a little different than what he was used to – was there a hint of mint in it? Either way, Ed was intrigued.

Hohenheim nearly bumped into him as he stopped.

"What's that?" Ed asked, pointing at the cauldron.

"That's pomegranate soup."

"Is it good?"

Hohenheim didn't respond, probably still too out of it to focus. Ed mentally shrugged and decided to give it a try.

They ordered two bowls and it was all fine, until the woman said:

"...And here's one for your brother."

Edward froze, the implication of those words slamming into him with the force of a train.

She thinks Hohenheim's my brother.

Everyone will think he's my brother.

Because he looks like you.

Because he looks like Alphonse.

Because Alphonse is gone.

Ed opened his mouth to explain that no, Hohenheim wasn't his brother, them looking alike was merely a coincidence. But the words wouldn't come. He was physically unable to deny them being related.

Why?

"What's the matter, dear boy?" the vendor asked with concern.

He looked at Hohenheim, who was looking at him with a strangely fearful expression.

Why can't you deny it...?

Because he's your father? That means nothing now.

Because you're lonely? Are you that desperate to keep any relative you have left?

Because you're so selfish that you want to hold onto him, even if he wants nothing to do with you?

….Are you trying to replace Al?

Ed had to close his eyes and shake his head in denial. No. He would never replace Al. No one could replace his little brother. No one.

But… he was that desperate. And selfish. He was finally ready to admit it to himself.

He wanted for Hohenheim to stay, because he was alone. It had been only three weeks in the past, and yet he was already falling apart.

"Nothing, I'm fine. How- how much?" Eventually he managed to speak. He was sure the others noticed his loss of composure, but they were polite enough not to comment.

Ed paid for the food, thanked the vendor and went to sit down, hiding his face behind his bangs. No way he was going to cry. Not in public, and especially not in front of Hohenheim. He had embarrassed himself enough. The others must think he's crazy, freaking out like that for no reason. Slowly, he put himself together, pushing back all those unwanted thoughts and feelings back into his nightmare box, where they belonged.

Sensing Hohenheim's stare, he looked up. The other was just sitting there, stiff like a board, holding his bowl awkwardly as if he didn't know what it was for.

"Why aren't you eating?"

Hohenheim stared blankly at the question, as if Ed was the one acting like a weirdo.

"This is for me?" the teen asked in disbelief.

Ed had to smack him for that. Honestly!

"Well, duh! Why do you think I asked for two bowls?" He snorted. "Come on, you don't think I'm that big of a jerk to eat in front of you and leave you empty handed, do you?"

Hohenheim looked at his bowl with an uncertain look. Ed had no clue what he was thinking.

"What? You don't like it? You could have told me before, you know, then I would have gotten you something else!"

"No, I..." He said slowly, like he wasn't sure if Ed was being serious. "...I just… I've never had pomegranate soup before."

Ed raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" He eyed the bowl carefully. It was just a soup, right? "It wasn't that expensive."

Hohenheim pressed and rubbed two fingers against his temple, making Ed wonder if perhaps he missed something important.

"Slaves don't have their own money."

Ed stopped, suddenly realizing what that simple statement meant.

"Oh."

Just a soup. For Edward, it was just a soup. A warm meal, with meat and vegetables in it. But to a slave? Someone who had no agency of his own, no choice in his life, someone dependent on his master for everything from clothes on his back to the food in his stomach? It was unattainable, something he would never get in his entire life, even if he worked hard every day.

Ed really had no idea what it was like for Hohenheim, did he? In comparison, he was born in luxury. Even during the Civil War, he was never hungry, Granny cooking delicious food for him and Al every day. As a State Alchemist, he had more money that he needed, and bought whatever food he desired freely. When he was on the run from the government alongside Greed and the Chimeras, they figured it out as they went, and even if the food wasn't of the best quality at times, it was still seasoned and warm and satisfied the stomach.

Edward knew true hunger, of course – Teacher's trial on the island would never fade from his memory. But still, it was only one month. The island wasn't bare either. He and Al ate whatever they could get their hands on, and once they figured out how to make traps, it wasn't all that bad. Living like this – no, living worse than that, Hohenheim probably ate the same thing for every meal, every day of his life. And although he didn't look starved… he was still rather thin, wasn't he? He had some muscles, no doubt from working hard all the time, but he should have more, right? And didn't his hair look sort of dull and weathered? He was clearly missing some nutrients in his diet.

Well, Ed nodded to himself decisively, he was going to change that. Three good meals a day, fresh vegetables, and lots of protein. He was no doctor, but he heard enough lectures from Granny and Winry to have a general idea of a healthy diet. It meant changing his own eating schedule (or lack thereof) but it was something he could do.

Al probably would have been pleased. And super smug.

With that surprisingly optimistic thought, Ed dug into his meal.

"Mmmm!"

It was different from stew, but it was still pretty good. Unlike Amestrian cuisine there was little salt in it, making the dish nearly sweet in result. The mint gave it an exotic taste, but it fit well with the other spices. Once he was finished, he exchanged a smile with his companion, strangely content for the first time since arriving in the past.

It was the flavor of a new beginning.

"Um, Ma- uh, I mean, si- uuuh..." Hohenheim sighed in embarrassment. Ed snickered. The other reminded him of Black Hayate on ice, helplessly flailing around, only in verbal form. "I… want to thank you. For… for the meal and… Can I ask..." he trailed off.

"What?" Ed prompted, curious to hear what Hohenheim's first question would be.

Who are you? What do you want from me? Why do we look so alike that people think we're brothers?

"Can I ask you… why?"

A valid choice, if a little vague.

"Why what?"

Hohenheim waved his hand in an indeterminate gesture. "Why did you… do this." He finished awkwardly. "I just don't understand. Why? What did I do to deserve this?"

Ed looked away, smiling in relief. Hohenheim had absolutely no idea. Then again, time travel wasn't exactly the first thing that would come to mind.

Still, the alchemist decided to tell him the truth – or at least a piece of it.

"Because you're important… Hohenheim."

And he was. This man couldn't even begin to imagine his importance. He was literally the proverbial nail, for want of which the kingdom was lost. Ed was simply making sure the nail wouldn't fail this time around.

But just as he said the name, he realized how strange it sounded in his mouth.

"You know..." Ed glanced at the other with a frown. "Calling you that is sort of weird."

Hohenheim was the name that belonged to the Western Sage. A name for an immortal who lived four hundred years, who called himself a monster, his eyes solemn and weighted by the horrors of the past. A name of a man Edward once despised for abandoning his family, then slowly began to understand. The name still had a lot of baggage for Ed, whom it still rubbed the wrong way, no matter how much he told himself that he was over it.

The teen in front of him had innocent eyes, a soft face, an awkwardly naive air around him, and a soul fresh and clean as a daisy. This wasn't that Van Hohenheim. He would never do or experience the things he did in Ed's timeline.

"How about I call you 'Van'." Ed decided on a whim. "It suits you better, I think. Almost like a nickname. 'Hohenheim' makes it sound like you're an old man, and you're just a kid."

Just like Ed hoped, the last comment visibly ticked him off.

"Got a problem, Van?"

"No," the annoyed grumble made Ed smirk in satisfaction. He had such obvious buttons, it was rather fun to push them. He was starting to understand the appeal of teasing someone so easily, like Mustang always did to him in the office.

Dear God. I'm turning into Colonel Bastard, Ed realized in horror. Abort, abort!

"So, Van," Ed quickly changed the subject, putting his chin on his automail fist. The name felt much better on the tongue. Fresh and new, untainted by bitter memories. "What are you planning to do now?"

"Huh?"

"You are free now, remember? You can go wherever you like. What are you going to do with that?"

Ed wasn't going to force him to stay. If he wanted to leave, he was free to do so. He would be okay with that. He would.

(He wouldn't.)

"I… I don't know..." Van replied, hesitant.

"Well, there are three things you could do." Ed had to make it clear that he had options. He couldn't just trick him into staying with him. "First. You travel east to Xing and look there for a better life."

Van looked so lost. No wonder – a country so huge and far away, even Ed had no idea what Xing was like. But it was the only one he could recommend, since Drachma territory was nothing but a frozen wasteland, current Amestris was apparently a bunch of forests with bandits running around, and did Ishval even exist yet? He regretted he wasn't better at history.

"Second. You stay in Xerxes and find a job here."

The teen bit his lip, a slightly distraught look on his face. Yeeeah, Ed knew from experience how easy that was, for someone their age.

"Or third. You come with me."

"Come with you?" Hohenheim stared at him in shock.

"I'm not going to force you," Ed said carefully. Was it the good or the bad kind of shock? He couldn't tell. "You just met me and have no idea who I am. But if you come with me, I can promise you will be safe and have a place to stay. And I could come up with a thing or two for you to do, in case you don't find a job."

Now that he was hired as Roshan's assistant, he would have a stable income. He could support one more person, no trouble. Besides, he had a feeling Van wouldn't be the kind of roommate to spend a lot of money.

"Why set me free, if you want me to work for you?" Van asked suspiciously.

"I don't know, company, maybe?" It was true, but Van clearly wasn't buying it. Ed sent him a mischievous grin. "Well, that's for me to know and for you to think about."

Because slavery was a horrendous practice and it disturbed him to his very bones, he wanted to say, but he knew such an answer would not be accepted easily. For Van, slavery was the norm.

"What is it with you? What do you want? Why are you doing this?"

Besides, that answer wouldn't address the core of his suspicion: the inability to understand that some people weren't jerks, and didn't need a have a reason or gain to help someone.

"What, am I not allowed to be nice to people?" he asked in mock surprise.

"'Nice'?!" Van repeated incredulously, waving his hands chaotically. "Spending a talent of gold for a slave and freeing him the same day for no reason? That's not being 'nice', that's insane."

He looked so utterly thrown off by this conversation, as if the foundation of his world was turned upside down. His hair was in disarray. There was some soup splashed on the side of his face. It was completely undignified. And suddenly, Ed imagined this unhinged expression on his old man, his bangs messy, beard all ruffled and glasses skewed on his nose. He had never seen him like that, not even after he punched him in the face.

And that overlap of images, that hilarious contrast combined with the fact that Van looked a lot like a disgruntled chick denied birdseed… it made him howl with laughter.

"Hey!" Van puffed up, indignant. It made Ed laugh even harder. "Stop that!"

"Sorry, Van, it's just… your face was so priceless!" Ed giggled, his stomach starting to hurt. "Wow, I had no idea messing with you would be this fun!" It took him a while to calm down. "Aaah, that was so good. I haven't had a good laugh in…"

He trailed off, when he realized he didn't remember the last time he laughed. Was it weeks ago? Months? Or taking time travel into account, centuries?

He didn't know. It was kind of sad.

"...a while. Thanks Van."

"You're welcome," Van answered sarcastically.

They were getting along pretty well, huh?

They brought the empty bowls back to the vendor, and much to Ed's confusion, the woman apologized. For what? For assuming they were related?

Why the heck would she apologize for that?

"It was a natural assumption. We're around the same age and look a bit similar. You don't have to apologize just because you thought he was my brother."

They were obviously related. It was the freaking truth. It was impossible to hide.

The woman regarded him with a gentle smile. "What's your name, dear boy?"

"I'm Ed."

"You are an amazing young man, Ed. I hope more people of your generation grow up to be as selfless as you are."

For some reason, the compliment made him blush. What was up with old ladies recently, being so nice to him? They were supposed to be scary, like Granny or Teacher. Ed couldn't handle that much sincerity.

He left the market as fast as he could without looking like he's running away, but he had a feeling Van noticed how flustered he was. Dammit.

"So," Ed said, hoping to distract him. "What's your decision?"

Van Hohenheim contemplated for a moment.

"I really don't understand why you're doing this," he started. "But… I guess I'll go with you. I don't want to leave Xerxes. And finding a job on my own would be very hard, I'd be better off as a slave. I don't have anywhere else to go."

...Was that it? Was it really that simple? Well, Ed wasn't about to complain.

(Pretending that he didn't feel like a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders was too easy.)

"Alright! Let's get going then."

"Where?"

"To my house, doofus. It's really unbelievable how thick-headed you are."

Predictably, Van glowered at him. Ed had a feeling he would have a lot of fun in his company.

"That's not true! I'm plenty smart!" he protested. Then he smirked in a suspicious way. Oh no, he was not going to… "And a lot taller than you, kid!"

...he did.

"Are you implying that I'm short?"

"Short? Please," Hohenheim scoffed, asking for it. "That's way too generous. You barely qualify as a midget."

Oh, it was on.

Beside that… incident… the walk back to Ed's house was peaceful. Unfortunately, Van's first question about it made his mood plummet.

"Your family lives here?"

How the hell do you respond to that?

"I don't have family anymore."

"But you're a kid, aren't you? Surely you have someone to take care of you?"

A kid, right. A kid who lost both his parents by the time he was six, who committed a taboo when he was eleven, joined the military when he was twelve, and fought against immortal monsters when he was sixteen. He was as far away from a child as you could get.

"No, I do not. It is just me."

"Um..."

Ed sighed deeply. He was so not in the mood for this topic, but...

"You're going to ask sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now."

In short, barren of detail sentences, he described how he was an immigrant had no relatives left.

"And your father?"

His hands automatically turned into fists. Instantly, he was filled with familiar resentment.

"He left."

"I'm sorry."

"Sure you are!" Ed snapped, and immediately regretted it. What right did he have to lash out with frustration? Especially, considering… "Sorry, Van. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. I just… really don't like talking about it. It's… It's complicated."

Once Ed got over himself and his stupid issues, he invited Van inside. He told him the story of how he bought the house, and the hilarious reaction the owners had to seeing a cart of gold on their doorstep. Which of course, led Ed to explaining how he came to possess a cart of gold. Last thing he wanted was to appear to Van as some sort of pompous, spendthrift snob.

He pulled a pebble out of his pocket – he always had one on him these days, in case he suddenly needed cash. The reason he didn't carry already-transmuted gold around was because of pickpockets, since that Zerang kid wasn't the only one he stumbled across. Losing gold coins was a lot more problematic than losing pebbles, no matter if he could produce gold on the spot. Ed didn't forget his ever-growing debt to the economy.

Still, Van was going to be living with him now, and he deserved to know where the heck Ed got the funds to… get… a slave, since it wasn't exactly cheap. So, a demonstration was in order.

As it was proper for an exchange of knowledge, Ed asked what he knew about alchemy. Honestly, he was intrigued. Van had been living with allegedly the best alchemist in Xerxes for years. He wouldn't be surprised if he was a well of information for lost ancient practices.

However, Ed quickly became disillusioned.

"My previous Master is a royal alchemist, but I haven't seen him work. I only cleaned his laboratory… and..." Self-consciously, he touched the bandage on his arm. "...he took some of my blood recently for an experiment, but I don't know anything about it."

The gesture made an unidentified, dark feeling burn in Edward. Doing his best to ignore the strange feeling – anger? He wasn't even sure – he reached for Van's arm, unwrapped the wound and examined it. It was deep and merciless, most certainly done without any anesthesia, and it wasn't even stitched. At least that sorry excuse of an alchemist had somewhat known what he was doing, because bleeding to death should be the last of Hohenheim's worries. Ed doubted Van had been given a break afterwards. Which meant he was given dirty work to do, with an injured arm. It was a miracle the wound wasn't infected. With the current state of Xerxesian medicine, combined with Van's status as a slave, it would have killed him. Not that Roshan apparently cared.

Roshan did that to him. Roshan did that to Van.

Once he was done with him, Ed was going to kill that bastard.

"That's disgusting. I already knew about it, sure, but to actually see it… That's so sick. Did it hurt?" Ed asked a little foolishly. Of course it hurt, moron, his arm was sliced open and drained of blood!

"A little. It wasn't too bad. It stung for a while, but it feels alright, now that I had it cleaned and all."

Oh, so at least they cleaned it. So Van probably wasn't going to die from infection. That was a relief.

Ed explained then that normal alchemy didn't require human blood. That was just so wrong. No alchemist should do that. Humans should never be treated as experiments, slave or not.

For some reason, it made Van even more nervous.

"Don't look so scared, Van. I just told you I'm not going to hurt you." Did he think Ed was lying, or what? He wondered just what was going on in the other's head.

It turned out, Van didn't know even the basics of alchemy. According to him, it was...

"...a science, I guess?"

Ed could not believe the irony. The man who invented alkahestry. The famed Western Sage of Xing. The man who had his family house's library filled to brim with books about alchemy and any related science, books which lead him and Al to learning about it in the first place…

...he knew absolutely nothing about it at this point.

How was this Ed's life, again?

"Whatever. I might as well show you. You see this pebble, right?"

Ed began to show him the gold transmutation. Perhaps it wasn't exactly beginners material, but why not? It was certainly cooler than transmuting a carving out of wood. Ed wasn't above showing off to his new roommate.

...Except Ed miscalculated, again, because Van freaked out so hard he actually fainted.

"Hey! Van! Are you alright?! Come on, don't pass out!" Ed grabbed his shoulders and tried to wake him, to no effect. "Argh, what have you done, Ed you idiot! Wake up, Van!"

Ed sighed, inwardly cursing himself more. How had he not seen that coming? The old couple on the road had completely lost it, too. Maybe it was a cultural thing? Was gold transmutation a taboo in Xerxes or something? Or just so incomprehensible to them, their minds couldn't handle it? He hated not knowing these things, dammit!

Resigned to deal with the consequences of another dumb, impulsive decision, he lifted Van from the ground. Fortunately he could carry a person without breaking a sweat, thanks to his automail – Winry's work was really something special.

"Come on, kid. If you have to to rest, don't do it on the floor."

He took him to the closest free room. It could be his room from now on, he supposed. It wasn't... well organized yet, he hadn't gotten rid of all the stuff the family left behind (he had too much work with the plumbing for a thorough cleaning), but he supposed it was in an acceptable condition.

Hopefully. He didn't remember if Hohenheim was a clean freak…

Ed frowned at the thought. There was a lot about his father that he didn't know, wasn't there?

As he put him down on the bed, he stared down at the teen, wondering. Without thinking about it, he swept the couple off unruly hair-strands from his forehead. Hohenheim of his earliest memories was a towering figure, cold and distant and untouchable. It couldn't be further from what he was now. Looking at him in this moment, he seemed so… small. Fragile.

Van Hohenheim was really just a kid, wasn't he?

"What am I going to do with you?" he said softly.

Edward really had no clue what he was doing. Why did he think it was a good idea? He was totally going to mess this up.

But… he didn't regret it. Not really.

He wasn't the type to sit around idly, so he decided to go back to his own room and start making a shopping list. He hadn't been planning shopping in advance before, but then again, Van was going to need a regular eating schedule, and they should proably eat meals together. Because socializing with others was important, or something.

Look, Al, I'm being responsible. How about that?

After being done with that, he visited the basement to change his clothes (he didn't like wearing Xerxesian robes all they, they still felt so weird) and made detailed notes of everything he had learned today – about Roshan, the Homunculus, Xerxesian culture, slavery… as well as Van Hohenheim.

Stifled creativity. Suppressed individuality. Used to being ordered around rather than making independent decisions. Doesn't seem to get human equality. Dislikes being called stupid, or a child, or a girl. Easy to ruffle up. Scared by things he doesn't understand.

The last one could be a problem. If Van too firmly set into his way of thinking, then… there wasn't anything Ed could do. He wasn't going to force his beliefs down his throat. But maybe even then, it wouldn't be too bad. Just because he wouldn't participate in Edward's main research, doesn't mean he wouldn't be willing to help out sometimes.

Just having someone around… made Ed relax, for some reason. Even the evening air wasn't as stifling as usual.

Shortly after he organized the notes about Operation Homunculus and returned to his room, Van Hohenheim appeared at the door. That was a close call, he thought. Van wasn't supposed to know about the basement – he had his automail stuff there, and a bunch of other things that were difficult to explain. He would have to be careful from now on, so Van wouldn't find out about it by accident.

Van gawked at him in the entrance, probably because of his clothes. Oh well. Ed wasn't going to give up on his outfit anytime soon, even if it was a little bit hot. It was one of the few things he had left that were familiar. A shame he couldn't just wear the tank top. But there was absolutely no way he could explain to Van what automail was, without telling him he was from the future.

"Are you going to come in or what?"

Van jumped in surprise of being caught staring, embarrassment painting his face red. Ed grinned at him in amusement.

"Feeling better?" Van nodded.

"Good. You scared me, kid, you were out for so long I thought you died of a heart attack or something." Even though he was joking, Ed had no idea how long people usually stayed unconscious after fainting. It was a reasonable concern.

Van winced. "Sorry." He tugged his ponytail in a nervous gesture. "I, uh… that was… stupid."

"You bet." Ed walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder like a child. "If I had known you'd act like such a sissy, I wouldn't have bothered showing you that trick," he said just to tease him. It worked like a charm.

"H-hey, I'm not a sissy! Look, I was just surprised! I've never seen something like that before, and..." he trailed off.

Ed raised an eyebrow. "What? Spill it out!"

"How… How did you create gold, Ed?"

"With alchemy. I thought you paid attention."

"I know, but- but that's impossible!"

"Why is it impossible?" Perhaps Ed was enjoying this a little too much. But Van's expressions were just so funny.

"Because… because only gods can do things like that! You're not a god, are you?"

Oh Truth, why. Ed facepalmed and moaned in despair: "Nooooo, not you too!"

So it was a cultural thing. It explained so much.

"What do you mean, 'not me too'?"

Ed related the story of his first encounter in the past. Having his enemies piss their pants, because of what he was capable of? That was awesome. Having civilians regard him as some sort of deity? That, he couldn't stand. It reminded him too much of Liore and Father Cornello. People fawning over him out of superstition was annoying.

"If you ever try to do that I swear I will turn into a demon and knock your teeth out," Ed told Van, meaning every word.

"Okay, I won't bow if you don't want me to," Van responded, baffled by the request.

"Good."

"C-can I ask you something?"

"Only if you wipe that floppy look from your face."

Van stood up straight, to show how serious he was. Ed nodded back at him, to show he was paying attention.

"Could you show me some alchemy again?"

Well. That was a surprise.

"What, wanna pass out one more time?"

"I won't pass out!" Van insisted. "Listen, I was unprepared the last time! Now I know what to expect and it won't affect me anymore!"

"Why do you want to see it again?" Ed asked, curious.

"Because… Because… it felt like freedom."

Okay, that was more than a surprise. Ed was honestly stumped by the response.

"What?"

"It felt like freedom," Van explained, and as he continued, Edward's entire perception of him shifted right before his eyes. "I didn't know what it felt like before. When you told me I'm a free man this morning… I didn't really know what to think of it. I don't understand what it means, what is it like, what is expected of a free man or if it's better for me. But… when I saw that light, it was like seeing all those possibilities, dreams I never had because I was not allowed to..." Van swallowed. "If I learned more about alchemy, maybe… maybe I could get to know… me… I don't know. Does it make sense?"

Ed had it all wrong. God, he couldn't believe how wrong he had been.

Van wasn't lacking in creativity. Van wasn't scared by things he doesn't understand. But he had been suppressed. The difference between this teenager and the man he had been in the future – it wasn't just the horror of Xerxes having been destroyed. Ed had discovered his passion for alchemy the moment his mother looked upon his first transmuted creation, and smiled with no tears in her eyes. Van experienced a similar thing today, when he saw the sparks of blue and felt freedom.

He had potential. Of course he had – he had been the Western Sage once for crying out loud. Ed kept thinking that it was ironic, but the truth was, Van hadn't been given the chance to grow yet. He was but a sapling, previously kept in the dark. But he could grow, and reach heights people wouldn't dream of. Edward could see it in his eyes now – the hunger for knowledge, the desire to learn more, to keep growing. Just like Ed.

The first time around, the Homunculus nurtured that desire, before turning on him and using him for his evil scheme, betraying their friendship and breaking Hohenheim's trust. But Ed… he had a chance to make it right.

To hold someone's fate in your hands so closely… it was scary. But Ed didn't hesitate. He charged at his opportunities head-on, not letting his doubts and worries cloud the goal at the end of the road.

Van wanted to be an alchemist? Then Ed would turn him into the most goddamned amazing alchemist that the world had ever seen.

"Van Hohenheim!" Ed looked him straight into the eyes. "I, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, swear to teach you and make you a real alchemist, if it's the last thing I do!"

Author's note:

Ed: It's not like I care about him or anything, b-baka.

Me: Ed.

Ed: Alright, maybe I do. But only because Al would have been upset with me if I didn't!

Me: Edward Elric.

Ed: I have no idea what I'm doing.

Me: Psst! Ed! You know that thing, that you're doing?

Ed: I guess he'll need three meals a day, huh?

Me: It's called an adoption, Ed.

Ed: I can't hear you, I'm too busy planning a healthy diet for my roommate

Me: *sighs in resignation*

I just can't with this boy. I'm telling you, even though I'm technically the one writing him, he has a mind of his own – Ed is in so much denial, I swear.

Sorry that it was mostly recap. I just felt it was important to have Ed's point of view of this part. The next chapter is going to be more juicy with plot, hopefully. The Homunculus is finally going to appear, and not as a flashback!

Oh, and Edward's breakdown is coming. The first one, that is. The almost one at the market doesn't really count. Although I'll probably go through the other ones, too. There's gonna be a lot of angst, unfortunately. See, Ed, this is what happen when you bottle up your emotions!

Thank you for reading, please leave a comment, add to favorites and follow if you can, but most importantly – read on and enjoy! :D