After Trisha's death, things were pretty quiet.

For the next week at Pinako's house, Pinako left all three of the kids to me while she decided to help Joy in her clinic and arrange Trisha's funeral in Hohenheim's absence.

When Pinako was gone before to try and take care of Trisha, I normally had Winry settled into a schedule where we did homework in the mornings, had a girl-talk/play time in the afternoon, and dinner where I let Winry do her own thing. Sometimes it was bolts and math and vaguely automail things, sometimes she bounded over and shared stuff with me or fussed over my daily medication. Food we just ate from the fridge where Pinako would have already prepared food and ingredients for the day.

I kept to that schedule for the next few days when the boys were added to the mix, mainly because I think Al wanted a bit of a distraction for himself, and Winry was all too happy to try and help and cheer her friends up. Although I didn't know what to do with a moody Ed, putting her in the room along with his little brother helped him lighten up a little, going into familiar patterns of arguing for Ed and Winry, and placating for Al.

When they did that, I tried to make myself scarce by doing what I could.

That's when I rediscovered cooking in my life. The Fullmetal Alchemist world had some pretty good kitchen gear – there were gas stoves and ovens and the lot, and Pinako made a very secure amount of money that let her have very good models of everything.

I don't know about you, but eating food was always the quickest way to let me rethink myself into a better place. And something about providing the food that made the people I fed happy also tickled my heart, so I dived into it with much enthusiasm when the kids got too much to bear.

Pinako didn't trust us little kids around the stove at all, for good reason (although they were prodigies, that didn't mean they didn't get easily distracted), but I made it a point to show off my awesome I can totally pay attention Pinako look at my mature attention span! so she'd trust me with more than tossing the salad.

I also just liked bonding with Pinako. She was a nice old lady.

And for those reasons, I slipped out of my room at 5 AM in the morning, and the slight nip in the air made me shuffle quickly towards the clothes I had lazily stacked on my chair yesterday, pulling them all on at once before the chill made my nose run too much. Creeping down the stairs past Winry's room and the spare room where Ed and Al were staying, I went to the kitchen to greet a tiny Pinako standing on a kitchen stool chopping vegetables. There was a small radio in the corner that was playing cheery morning music with some announcer talking about weather and other news.

"Hi Granny," I said while I headed straight for the sink and dragged another footstool over, washing my hands.

"Marlon, good morning," Pinako gave me a slightly wry smile. "Up so early again?"

I batted my eyelashes and gave her the cutest face I could give. I still wasn't very cute, but I had confidence that Pinako liked me enough to get a little affected, at least. As expected, Pinako gave me a loud laugh and a fond mutter of 'strange squirts' and satisfied with that, I began washing the dishes that had already accumulated there. Pinako had already made dinner, smelling some sort of meat cooking in the oven, so some platters still had some raw mince on them, and some used chopping boards were on the table. Pinako was watching as I carefully washed her knives and placed them on the side next on the drying rack, before I washed my hands again.

"Need any help, granny?" I asked, kicking my stool over to her.

"Toss the salad, Mal," she gestured at a large bowl in the middle of the counter. The week had food that had been way more than our usual fare. I think Pinako was going way out to try and cheer the kids up and help support the local farmers, buying some of the unshipped stock at market price.

I tugged the salad bowl closer to me and a bit further away from the sink, taking two wooden spoons from the drawer right underneath. Then I carefully tossed the salad, listening to the radio announcer's cheery voice talk about farmer's and the crop yield this year, and how prices were still high because of demand, stuff like that. The tinny metallic voice crackled in a few places before Pinako hit the box with a few taps of her wooden spoon.

After a little while of that, I finished the salad and helped Pinako stir some soup on the stove. On the side, the kettle started to boil with a shrill whistle. Pinako bustled over and took it off, putting a saucepan over the fire to start heating instead as she poured us both two cups of hot water.

"Have you eaten your morning medicine yet?" Pinako asked, peering over her little spectacles at me.

"I'll go get it!" I exclaimed, pattering up the stairs back to my room, avoiding all the creaky bits as I went. Inside my room, much chillier than the kitchen, I let out a few coughs as I found my small bottle of medicine on my bedside drawer, shaking out two pills before scurrying back downstairs.

I sat at the table watching Pinako fry our lunch, blowing on my water to let it cool. She quickly finished and packed it all into a few plates and into the fridge. The pot of soup she left on the stove as she joined me with a cup of tea.

"Are you heading out to Joy's again?" I asked. By now, the sun was already above the horizon and had started to spread warm rays over the blue sky. It was nearly six, and after one last wash, Pinako usually started packing food for her and Joy throughout the day and headed out.

Pinako gave a sound of agreement, her lively face enjoying the tea as she breathed it in and took a sip.

Seeing huffing out a satisfied sigh, my own water should probably be an alright temperature for small sips too – I quickly swallowed my two pills before taking a few more sips to make sure they went down properly.

"How is it?" I asked, with a little curiosity.

"The plague?" She asked back, and I nodded. "Joy did a very good job this past month," Pinako replied with a tired smile. "The plague has already died down, and Resembool survived a little better with Joy here. Though even such a strong lady like your aunt can't hold for a whole month without stopping."

"Tell Joy I tossed the salad today," I replied with a small smile.

Pinako gave me one of her wry smirks. "Yes, she was very happy to eat your cooking these few days. I think she misses you."

"Really?" I replied.

"Your aunt loves you very much," Pinako said back, checking the timer for the oven with a little glance. "The faster this plague passes, the faster she gets to see you, so she's working hard."

"I miss her too," I smiled, before looking at the time. "Hey, Granny. You'll be late if you don't move. You're old and short so you need to have more time to walk over!"

"Why, you're getting cheekier every day," Pinako said with a surprised chortle. "Don't you take after Ed too much now."

I huffed. "I've always been like this though?"

We continued our banter as I finished the washing so Pinako could pack enough food in her bag, which she hefted onto her back as she headed out.

"Say good morning to Winry for me," Pinako asked, "And remind her that school is going to start again next week so she shouldn't slack on her homework!"

"Okay, Granny! Stop worrying. Bye!" I said to her as I waved her out, Den rushing to follow after Pinako as the dog sometimes did. I watched the two down the hill on the road, until I couldn't stand the morning chill despite how nice the sun was, and went back inside.

I waited until it was around seven, setting up the table with a jug of both milk and juice, before going upstairs and calling the kids up.

I was armed.

I was ready.

Al was the easiest, as always.

"Oh… Good morning, Marlon," he sleepily replied, giving me a bleary look before he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to sit up, dazedly sitting there. Knowing that after he got his mind on track he would climb out of bed, I went to the other side of the room to wake up Ed.

Ed, as always, was the hardest.

"Mrphgh," Ed grunted, as he adjusted from his horrible sleeping position (kicked blankets, shirt all ridden up, leg hanging to the floor) into a curled ball against the wall farthest away from me.

"Wake up, Ed!"

I held up the pot and the metal ladle in my hand and banged them together. Al squeaked behind me as he rushed to cover his ears, and Ed glared at me over his shoulder.

"GAH, SHUT UP!"

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" I yelled back, leaning in as I made an exceptionally loud bang on the pot. "WAS THAT YOU SAYING YOU'RE GETTING UP?"

After a few moments of belligerent silence I huffed and raised my pot again. This time I banged the pot even louder in the small room.

"Nooooooo, brother, wake up!" Al complained, and Ed groaned.

"OKAY, I'M UP!"

When Ed decided to act he would, so I gave him a victorious grin and headed to Winry's room right next door.

Winry, as a consequence of Ed, was always already sitting up when I poked my head in.

"Ed's such a lazy bum," was the first thing she said to me, and the second was, "Good morning, Mal!"

"Good morning, Winry! Breakfast is ready, so come down soon."

"Okay," Winry nodded, used to this already, lugging her blanket off the bed with her as she went to her small table to start brushing her hair.

All three kids now awake, I went back downstairs and waited. Pinako had made a stack of pancakes that she'd kept warm in the oven too, so I put on my oven mitts and took them out now, placing them carefully on the table, before going to the fridge and getting a wad of butter out.

All three of them tumbled into the room together, and I grinned. "Be careful, the pancake plate is hot! Otherwise, Pinako made pancakes today."

"Yay! Thanks Marlon!" Said the kids, rushing to the table to start eating. It smelt very cosy in here, and the kids started chatting about normal stuff again, especially when I mentioned that school was starting again next week.

I dug in myself, a little glad that all three of them were doing so well.

This time, I was the one sipping hot water while the three rinsed, washed and dried the breakfast dishes after a brief scuffle over who would dry the dishes (the easiest job). By the time they finished, the morning was well on its way and I grinned as I laid down the homework that I retrieved from their rooms.

All three of them groaned.

We all recovered in our own way.

When Ed suddenly went angry and slammed doors and got mad over little things, Al would race over and find me, and we would all try to talk it out together. When Winry felt overwhelmed by all the people and everything that's happened (she was more introverted than her personality would suggest), I would be the one to coax her out of her workshop with promises of playtime and food at dinner time. When Al really needed hugs, or someone to talk to about sensitive things that were still a little too sensitive for Ed and Winry, he would sit next to me as I did my own small hobbies, or I would just take him out for a walk around the house, swinging hand in hand with him as he carefully explored his thoughts.

Pinako slowly came back, and Joy also took a long break after they finished up with the plague – crashing for a solid forty-eight hours with toilet and food breaks in the middle.

Trisha's funeral came with a quiet sort of summer day, when things were still warm but were starting to bleed into a hint of something chillier.

There had been too many deaths this summer, and Trisha was only one of the many bodies that were respectfully carried the long, long path down to Resembool's cemetery. Nearly the whole town was there, moving silently, wearing their best clothes as they walked next to the coffin of their lost loved one, with friends who would walk aside to support them.

That morning, Joy and I walked slowly back to our own house hand-in-hand, and she pulled out my best, green and blue trimmed, dress and helped me put it on. Joy herself went to her room and came out in a solemn black dress and a black hat. Then we went to the town and waited for Pinako, Winry, and the boys.

Al arrived in a black tank and shorts, Ed in near the same but with a t-shirt thrown on top. Winry wore her best white dress, and Pinako ushered them all towards us when they spotted us in the town square.

Some of Trisha's farmhands helped the boys to carry her body to the cemetery – Trisha was the third coffin in the procession, and we had a larger procession than some. I saw some aunties that I vaguely knew in the markets that Ed and Al greeted by name, other farm hands and helpers that Trisha employed every spring and summer, walking behind Ed and Al in supportive solemnity.

Pinako, Winry, Ed and Al, were of course in the front, and pulled Joy and I with them when we tried to slip into the crowd of friends behind.

So did the solemn procession marched, on the small, well-kept road, across rolling green hills with sparse crops of trees. The white picket fence meandered on and on, and it was half an hour later that we arrived at the cemetery. There, were rows and rows of freshly dug pits, with wide spaces in between. Resembool was a growing village, but there was more than enough space to let every grave have a respectful distance between each.

There was a church pastor that stood at the entrance of the cemetery instead of blessing each one with a speech, he blessed the coffins as they went in. A small touch and prayer before the farmhands moved on.

And there it was. The stone grave marker, with Trisha's name neatly carved out, with a simple decoration framing the stone.

Trisha Elric

1878-1904

I blinked rapidly when I looked at her grave marker, swallowing against the sudden surge of sadness that came out behind my chest. She had only been twenty-six years old, and somehow had already been so much more mature and beautiful than so many other humans I've ever met.

Trisha was lowered carefully into the pit, and Ed and Al were directed to throw a handful of dirt first at Pinako's direction. Then the farmhands slowly filled the dirt in as all of us watched the coffin slowly disappearing, until the land was flat, and they put a slab of stone on top of the loose dirt.

Ed and Al placed their bouquet, while everyone placed their own flowers if they brought one. Afterwards, people left – either to other friends who had died, or leaving the cemetery on their own, faces solemn – after patting Ed or Al's shoulder and saying their general condolences.

An hour later, I needed my medication, so Joy and I left first out of our small group, our hands swinging between us as we each silently contemplated on the afternoon together.

Joy was a nurse, so she was probably used to seeing death, but I was hammered all over again about how life was just so short.

Sometimes I understood why people clung onto religion when they faced death. Why, their brains would ask. Why take something so precious from me, when there are so many more horrible people in the world? A daughter may see a precious parent die from an accident, and then go to a bar to drink their sorrows away, only to see a line of men and women who were wasting their lives away trying to escape through drink and despair, compare them to their precious person and ask for a reason. However, there are many times when there just are none.

Why why why?

"Because God loved them more," said a religious man in the cemetery, choked.

The spiritual may feel comforted by that, others may not.

"Things just have a natural lifespan," a scientist may say, crumpling a drying tissue in their hand. "The ends of your cells get older and more unprotected and whoosh, the cell dies. Organisms are just cells and air, and we were only built to last so long."

The realists may be comforted by the fact, but was that truly an answer? An emphasis on the physicality?

"Death is ignorance," a philosopher may say. "No wise man, no fool knows anything about the realities of death. We are ultimately lack knowledge from the day we are born from the day we die no matter who you are, a baby, or the king of the world. All there is left is perception – if one says death is real, then we die. If one says death is not real, then death is merely a way to another world."

Knowing Truth, I cannot believe in spirituality, even if there might be a God who governs Truth's concept in itself. God, I knew in Fullmetal, was an impartial, absolutely fair being. Knowing science, I refuse to finish my questioning on merely the physical. On philosophy, the greatest non-answer of all… I refused to accept it. Maybe death is ignorance, and the only purpose of which is to highlight the vibrancy of life.

One doesn't need to scrutinise shadow to understand it is merely the absence of light… with no further meaning. Maybe death was just the absence of life, with no further thing to say.

How unsatisfying.

We reached the house, Joy and I, and she ushered me inside. In my room, full of machines that kept me alive time and time again (half more advanced than anything I've seen on Earth) I swallowed my pills and felt frustrated, because—

Because this was Fullmetal, with all the powers alchemy can give. There were actual rules of the universe that I could manipulate here. Truth was behind the wall of death, doing something unknown. I had met God. I had met a soul, existed as a soul, and I still knew nothing.

Is that what they mean, when they say there are some things beyond the reach of humanity?

I knew that today, when Winry and Pinako probably left to organise dinner, Ed and Al would be the ones to stay, sat in their foetal position as they were. Ed would stare at the headstone and talk to Al about getting Trisha back, and Al would agree, because he also missed Trisha terribly.

In those tiny minds, fate was being created.

To them, death was merely an obstacle to get back what they cherished the most, a natural complication that snatched away their mother.

(Of course, they were wrong, as all cautionary tales seem to be.)

That evening, I think some part of me was shocked at how normal Ed and Al were, after making such a momentous decision like human transmutation. They bickered and laughed as usual, and Ed still made faces at his milk.

Joy took me back to our house, and we settled down like usual. School started again, and Joy and Pinako took turns to invite Ed and Al for food and sleepovers.

A silver lining in all of this was that now I was back in Joy's busy jurisdiction, I finally found time away from any adult eyes to plan and think about my personal goals. Joy was still busy doing house calls, yelling at suppliers on the phone about how the countryside needed these things too not just the city thank you very much, and Pinako was busy with settling Winry, Trisha's accounts and will, and being an automail mechanic.

So whenever Ed and Al came over, we were allowed all the mischief we wanted to do.

And what had I been itching to touch?

Alchemy.

And guess who had two genius alchemy think tanks in easy access desperate to be distracted?

Conveniently, the boys were all too glad to be distracted with alchemic problems.

"But you can't shoot lightning like that, Mal!" Ed grimaced, as he dragged over a book. "Lightning arcs from the sky to the ground because the negative charge in storm clouds want to ground itself in the positive charged things on the surface. You can generate electricity if you draw your diagram like this," and here, he drew a few symbols that linked the electricity symbol a combination of friction, ion, plasma, electron and energy symbols together, blurring out a few tiny traces on the side where I tried to incorporate various air molecules to help facilitate electricity generation, "but you wouldn't have any way to direct it and it'll go straight through you instead because you'll be their first direct channel to the ground."

I grimaced, because halfway through his explanation I noticed what was wrong too.

"Unless you have a way of changing some object's polarity to extreme positives from far away with some level of accuracy, shooting any electricity in any direction from your circle would make you burn and maybe die with the amount you're trying to make," Al added, squinting at the runes casually scribbled onto the notepad in between us.

Dammit. Electricity was a bust too. I wanted some sort of easy attack power that wasn't something mentioned in the series, because thinking of Father, Wrath, Envy, made me so scared of the future. Little Marlon's body will never take to martial arts, so punching and kicking stuff wasn't going to be an option.

Some alchemy that was stationary like Mustang's fire, but not fire (so it's not plagiarism) but I was a genius because of Truth, not because I was a legit one, so I ran out of ideas pretty quickly and just settled with electricity

I sighed, feeling discouraged as we tore off the piece of paper so Al could take his turn to draw another theoretical circle. We weren't trying these circles out (we'd die), but it was really fun to discuss our craziest ideas and draw them out.

"Hmm, I got kinda inspired by Mal's idea. Lemme see…"

Al reached behind and grabbed the physics reference book I'd been leaning an elbow on. I shuffled over to let him reach it, nearly toppling a small stack next to my head on the living room couch.

"Okay, what about this?"

Ed was still muttering over my circle about the direction of alchemic energy, so I glanced over at Al's one. My eyes widened. Ooh.

"I added some suggestions for electron flow since in lightning storms, it's because there's so many electrons making negative charge that forces the electrons away from the surface right? What if we do that sort of logic with this circle," and Al pointed at some sort of modified version of my own combination of energy but with an added symbol on the side that detailed the direction of electrons, "then when we activate it, we draw all the electrons deeper into whatever material we've drawn it on, forcing positive charge upwards in the boundaries of the circle."

"Hey, that's my idea!" Ed heard Al's description as he jerked his head out of the book, and I sat back a bit to follow their logic.

"So if we want to shoot lightning, we need to have one person doing the generation, one person activating the positive charge on a pre-prepared place and theoretically the electricity should arc between the two?" I clarified. Hmm. Maybe it'll be easier to think of this analogy through parallel plates instead, even though I first started this idea through weather analogy… where was that book?

While I glanced around at the mini book fort we've made in the process of brainstorming in our growing corner of my living room, Ed glanced over at Al's drawing and compared it to mine. "Al, how long does this positive charging last?"

"Ah!" Al smacked his forehead. "I forgot to add anything about time in! I don't know," Al reached for the eraser. "Ummm… Maybe add it here?"

"Wait, that'll affect the direction of the flow you want you can't rub it out there," Ed stopped Al, and Al made a face in response.

"But there's nowhere else to put it if we want the circle to still be an economical twenty-four by twenty-four centimetres like we agreed to make it!"

And all of this because I thought electricity would be easier since generating energy was just basically 'breaking down' air, which could be counted as the second 'deconstruction' step of alchemy – which was why deconstruction has the tiny sparks of light in the first place. I wanted to capitalise on that wasted energy, naming it 'electrical' for convenience's purpose, but it was actually way harder than it seemed.

I made a vague grumbly noise as I blew a raspberry and flumped backwards into a collapsed pile of textbooks, staring at the ceiling.

How the heck did Mustang's master make a ranged attack in the first place? You'd have to incorporate matters of space and account for all the variables and stuff in air density and humidity and all those nitpicky things.

Whatever he did was genius. And to mash it all up into a circle that could fit a glove.

What.

How.

Impossible.

(Could I steal a glance at Riza's back too?)

"Why are you so interested in electricity anyway, Mal?" Al asked as he flomped on the stack of books right next to me, chewing on the end of the pencil. I made a wry face at another sacrifice of my pencils, since I seem to spot teeth marks on all my pencils nowadays.

Al, the pencil chewer. This was something that the Fullmetal Alchemist series couldn't have warned me of.

"I was just curious about the sparks that happen when you decompose something in alchemy," I shrugged and lied. "Theoretically, the sparks and energy that come from decomposing matter are excess energy coming from the unbonding atoms, so if we had some way of storing or using it, wouldn't it be amazing?"

"Well," Edward pushed a piece of paper towards me, "maybe start smaller? To get anything done we need something that conducts electricity in the first place that's not, you know, the human body."

I racked my brains, future, past, otherwise. There was something that I reading about carbon based products. There was this huge media furore about this 'new material' that could 'revolutionise the world' and 'solve everyone's problems' like how it was with plastic back in the day.

What was it?

Something to do with graphite.

"Kids, time for lunch," Joy knocked on the living room door, rolling her eyes at the stacks of books that we've made. Joy knew I was a lazy person at putting stuff where they were supposed to be, and the stern look she gave at the three of us was one of pure 'clean up your mess before tonight' mother-style and I gave her a cheeky grin and raced to the kitchen instead.

"Yay, stewed beans on toast!"

Al gave an exaggerated groan from the back.

"Aww, again?"

That night, I shot up and nearly screamed with excitement when I remembered what I've been racking my brains over the whole day. That material that was electrically conducting and heat resistant and all these miracle and whatnot things!

Graphene!

Modern day didn't use it much yet because of production and utility and cost, but alchemy was literally just rearranging molecules to get what you want! And all I needed was carbon, which was everywhere!

It was just carbon molecules arranged into hexagons or something right? I remember sitting in a lecture about them, something my fuzzy memory was slowly clearing up.

I raced downstairs to the book fort, and hauled up our huge notepad to start scribbling only to pause.

Size. Shape. Composition.

I stared down at my pencil, and stilled.

In wracking all of my memories for alchemy I've never seen any circle that was trying to make a two-dimensional object? And to be honest, I never really paid attention to what graphene could do anyway?

…

Graphene joined the scrap pile that also had plans on plastic, uranium, high-pressure water cutters, sound amplification, etc.

Why was my modern knowledge so useless?

Why was I so useless in my past life and didn't memorise all my science textbooks?

I slumped my way to Joy's bed and burrowed into her bed. Joy slept like a log, and didn't even notice me when I sneakily put my cold feet under her legs.

Why is alchemy so hard…?

I was enrolled in school in Autumn, and I was all sort of psyched up for some cool fun times with toddlers and what not. I put on my, what I inwardly called, my 'Buddha face' on a week before school straight, checked all my schoolbooks, practiced all my relaxation exercises.

"I can't wait until I show you all the cool spots, Mal!" Winry bounced next to me the day before, even more excited than I was about the whole thing, nearly buzzing through the walls as Pinako snorted into her tea over in the kitchen chatting with Joy.

"Hehe, guess what, Mal," Ed conspiratorially, a dark chuckle preceding the revelation of his evil plan while he and Al were sleeping over. "We kicked out Jacob from his seat next to us!"

"Yeah!" Al puffed with a little self-conscious pride, wiggling over, nearly knocking the inactive heart monitor off its stand. "But he's actually a pretty nice guy and all we had to do was ask him to move seats though."

Ed puffed. "Shhh, Al, stop making us sound less badass than we are!"

"You're just jealous that Winry chose to sat next to Jacob after you argued with her at recess!"

Ooooh, Ed's ears warmed when I gave him my best eyebrow waggle and Cheshire grin.

"Hohoho, do I sense a crush in the air somewhere between Ed's ears?" I mused, stroking a fake beard.

"Of course not!" Ed blustered, "she's an idiot!"

"Oi," I whacked his head, "no calling Winry an idiot. She's the smartest and prettiest girl in all of Resembool."

But when I actually went to school, it was the most boring thing ever. Winry was a good student so she never talked and took notes, the country kids in Resembool were the chillest kids with good upbringing I've seen, and minor childish disputes were easily solved with a punch (boys) or a good session of silent treatment, glares and childish gossip (girls), and I think the only thing that saved me was poring over alchemy circles with Ed and Al.

I could tell you about Molly, the gentle girl whose family owned a sheep farm who complimented my eyes when she met me. I could tell you about Jacob, and how he's the oblivious shounen hero type, because somehow (maybe the way he styled his hair, I have no idea) even though he has the most generic brown eyes and brown hair, he had the sparkliest smile I'd ever seen and more than half the girls in class would honest-to-goodness swoon whenever he came near, but he only ever cared about was getting good grades and taking care of his little sister. I could tell you about Amy-Lee, who had the good beginnings of the most severe case of resting-bitch-face I've ever seen and liked to collect frogs and tease Winry.

I could tell you those short days of sitting next to Winry, Ed, and Al, whose satisfaction at being a group of 'four again!' never waned were good ones. Irrevocably good.

I held them close to my heart, us four in a short chain of kids holding hands as we walked down the countryside streets back to our houses. Sunset at our backs, Winry warbling a song that Ed followed with gusto. Me being the one to swing Winry and Al's hands back and forth to the beat, while Al said hi and bye to everyone we passed.

That day, only a week and half into this new routine, we walked down the lane towards home, Ed and Al's wooden house on the hill, Joy and my house nestled in the crook of the lane, and Pinako's a shadow at the end. How we stopped by mine first, and it was Ed first, who felt uneasy when he noticed that all of the lights in my house was dark.

It usually wasn't. As half a clinic, Joy always tried to keep moderately late hours before turning in.

I shot a questioning glance at Ed over Al's head, before letting go of their hands and heading straight through the door.

There, I saw Joy ready with two packed bags.

"Joy?" I asked tentatively.

The winds of change can blow so quickly, sometimes.

Something clattered the kitchen, and Joy wiped her hands on her apron as she picked up the two bags. "Good, you're back, Marlon. Oh," she faltered then, having noticed Ed, Al and Winry in the doorway along with me. "Hello, kids. I'm afraid you can't play here today."

"What's going on?" Ed asked, already getting a little mulish in his tone. Always quick to go on the defensive, that boy.

"Sorry, Marlon," Joy said to me, "but we received a letter today. Your father…"

Her mouth tightened, and my heart clenched. Dad Alain?

"They sent a letter, explaining your father is currently housed in Central's military hospital in critical condition. As relatives, we were contacted of this fact as soon as possible."

Winry gasped behind me in concern, already starting to babble questions as to what happened, was he okay, while Ed and Al came up – one to bump my shoulder, one to hold my hand again – to support. But I had a premonition.

Once I left and went to Central, I wouldn't live in Resembool again… for a long, long time.

I squeezed Al's hand, before letting go.

"Let's go," I said resolutely to Joy, before turning to the three kids. "Let's stay in touch," I also said to them as firmly as I could, "because this isn't a goodbye."

"It's getting late, you three should go to Pinako's," Joy added, before hustling us four out the door gently before shutting and locking the door behind her, grabbing my hand and near marching us back towards town at a quick pace.

"W-wait!" I heard Winry behind me call, as if what was happening was just hitting her now. I think she had a hunch about what was happening. But we were walking too fast for me to truly hear what she said afterwards, the wind that suddenly soared blowing her words away. Instead, I focused my eyes on Joy.

"The next train leaves at six thirty on the dot," Joy said to me, eyes on the road. "We don't know how much time your dad has left, so we'll try to get there as fast as we can, okay?"

"What's wrong with him?"

Joy glanced down at me, and I think I saw fear in her eyes before it was covered up again.

"The letter didn't say."

I didn't say anything after that, and only looked behind once.

The three had gone up the hill enough so that they were under our tree, the one in Ed and Al's garden overlooking the town, the one that we've played hundreds of times under. Their tiny figures were lit up by the sun like an orange beam, and I knew that none of them would move until I got out of sight.

I gave them a wave, and at once, all three of them had all six of their arms raised, waving wildly, two figures jumping up and down as if worried they won't be seen.

And, surprised, I felt tears on my face. But I quickly wiped them away. Resolutely looked forward.

No turning back now.

Central was as smoggy and cluttered as I remembered, smelling like coal, burning, and industry. Joy and I directly rode the carriage straight to the hospital, and after Joy had explained who we were and who we were visiting, they let us through. We speed-walked through familiar halls, straight to the intensive care section.

Dad Alain had caught a bullet through an arm and the chest, skimming a lung before lodging in his back. The one in his arm had caught his elbow and shattered it. He had only been saved through the efforts of his unit, who had retreated with him for more than seventy yards and escorted him to the only field hospital with a medical alchemist.

Even now, he laid there, still and grey-skinned. When I reached for his hand, it was cold.

"He woke a twice, but both times he was disoriented," Joy said to me as she skimmed through the medical report at the end of the bed.

"He called for you," a kind nurse told me, having hung around to catch up with Joy. After two and a half years, I didn't recognise half the staff here. "He'll be glad to see you here when he wakes again."

Eventually, Joy and the nurse went outside to talk, and I was left alone with dad Alain. I gently patted his hand in my grip.

Being back here gave me memories. I never forgot what Dad Alain said when he moved me out of here, years ago.

Something about being approached by someone with a deal, and rejecting it. His friends, who had all mysteriously disappeared. Him, being so certain that Central was dangerous.

Dad Alain, with all his medals on his chest in his young age.

He must have been recruited just like how Central Command would try on Major General Armstrong in the future.

And Alain rejected it, probably. My father was a good man to the bone, a bit traditionalist and believed in honour. That much I knew. The only one I can remember who refused Central Command's corruption in their thirst for immortality was Grumman, Mustang's cross-dressing mentor, and that was because he's one of the most powerful military figures in Amestris and he couldn't be killed. Too high profile. My dad was far from that, as distinguished as he is. Still a mook in the system, really.

What could be done?

Central wasn't just dangerous, but it was also full of opportunities. The Great Library. Mapping out the terrain. Gauging the politics a lot easier than a remote haven like Resembool. But also…

I gently put my dad's hand down, readying a child's smile now that I was back in Central. I will not slip.

They can try kill Alain over my dead body.

I've been realising my writing's a bit bloated, so I'll try cut down some! Yosh!

Sorry for being a little late, here's a chapter. I'll edit it more… SOON. But thank you so much for continuing to read! Your reviews and support really helped motivate me to keep up my attempts to write hoho. I'll keep on trying to improve.