Title: Skin Deep
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood/manga
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, transboy!Ed, transphobia & trans erasure, gender dysphoria, support where you least expect it, hurt/comfort, menstruation talk, unwanted advances, canon typical violence
Summary: Trisha and Van's first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

A/N: I have learnt so much more about bras and breast-binding during the turn of the 20th century, for this fic, than I ever really cared to. ^^;
That said, corsets were more the thing until the flappers of the 20s, but, for the sake of my own sanity – I cannot, in good conscious, let Ed bind unsafely, historical accuracy be damned; blame the Rockbells' medical background on the deviation, if you need to – I'm bringing forward some of that lingerie. (Don't get me started on hunting down information on what fabrics were readily and cheaply accessible then, and translating that into the less technologically advanced Amestris. Fuck's sake, I hate this fandom's timeline. I need to write more modern AUs just for the sake of my researching madness. XP)

While the first chapter had a reread before it was posted, this chapter has NOT. In fact, I finished it this morning after staying up way too fucking late, and am posting it pretty much as soon as I get up so.

-0-
Chapter Two
-0-

Envy'd made some joke about them being 'presentable' or whatever bullshit, with a pointed look at Ed's chest, then led them up into one of the shower rooms in Central Command, which was apparently right on top of the 'Father' guy's home base.

Envy hadn't tried coming in with them, at least, and while Ed didn't care if his brother saw him naked – they'd bathed together as kids, for fuck's sake – Al was always super obvious about turning away as soon as Ed made like he was going to undress.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Ed shucked off his bloodied clothing and tossed it toward the rubbish bin, then stepped into one of the stalls and turned on the water. Once it was a reasonable temperature – he'd learnt a long time ago not to be too fussy about military showers, because they just always sucked – he grabbed the bar of soap to start cleaning himself, and started telling Al about his little adventure in Gluttony's stomach, focussing on the fact that he'd seen his brother's body. Which certainly got Al excited, and seemed to distract him for a bit from any of the rest of it.

Of course, then Al realised, "Through the portal. That requires human transmutation, Brother."

Ed swallowed and turned off the water. "Well, yeah. Had to transmute something to get us out."

Al was quiet for a moment, utterly unmoving, while Ed grabbed his towel and started patting himself dry. Finally, Al quietly asked, "You didn't fix yourself?"

Ed swallowed and looked down at the wretched lumps of fat on his chest and tried to sound flippant when he said, "Of course not! Too much risk."

"I wouldn't have blamed you, if you had," Al offered quietly. He didn't really sound happy, though, and Ed couldn't tell if it was at the prospect of Ed using a philosopher's stone to fix himself, or that he hadn't taken the chance when he had it.

Either way, Ed somehow managed to get out a quiet, "Yeah," and ducked his head into the stream of water, so he could blame any wetness on his face on that.

When he finally got out of the shower and started going through the civilian clothing Envy had pulled out for him, he came up against a slight problem: "No binding."

"Brother?" Al called, the echo of his voice saying he was still turned away from him.

"There's–" Ed swallowed and glanced down at his chest, then started looking around, calculating necessary materials. "My binding. I had to leave it in Gluttony."

"Can you transmute something?" Al immediately asked, because he got how much Ed hated going around with his chest unbound.

He had plenty of fabric, since the clothing he'd been left was all a bit large, and he didn't need the black vest, only really stuck with it because it was one more piece of fabric that would hide his binding, and usually tight enough not to catch on anything in a fight and rip off.

That said, he didn't have quite the right sort of fabric, and he was unlikely to find a sufficient store of rubber to make something even vaguely like his usual binding.

When he'd been shopping out with Winry that first time, they'd found a couple designs that didn't quite flatten as much as what he'd settled on, but also hadn't required any elasticity, and Ed was fairly certain he could transmute something a little like one of those, so he said, "I think so," then picked out the black vest from the pile and clapped his hands.

He didn't have the chance to look over the completed product, because the door opened before the light died down, and Envy called, "You'd best not be trying to escape, little girl."

Ed grabbed the nearest thing to hand – a bar of soap – and spun to chuck it at the fucker, shouting, "I'm a boy!"

Al was halfway to a standing position when he let the soap loose, however, and it bounced off his back, even as he firmly said, "My brother is getting dressed. We'll be out shortly, so please leave."

The door clicked closed again, and Ed took a moment to gasp in a breath, trying to calm himself, only to stop as he found the weird little black and white cat that belonged to that Xingan girl standing on the tiles in front of him.

"Alphonse," he said, keeping eye contact because he didn't trust the cat not to bite him, "what is the cat doing here?"

Al shifted loudly, then admitted, "I've got the little girl inside me."

Ed managed to bite back a loud 'what?!' because he didn't really want to deal with Envy's shitty sense of humour any more. But his expression, as he looked up at Al, made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear. He hoped.

Al was hunched about as much as he could be in the armour, and Ed could almost see the chastised expression he'd be wearing, if he could. "She's hurt," he mumbled.

Ed sighed and turned back to his clothing, picking up the transmuted binding and giving it a quick look-over. It wouldn't be as good as his usual, but it would serve, so he let his towel drop – ignoring Al's vaguely scandalised "Brother!" – and slipped it on, then set about doing up the ties as best he could.

Al sighed right before his hollow steps sounded on the tile, and his hands gently knocked Ed's away from the ties. "Here, tell me if it's too tight."

But Ed knew his own size pretty much perfectly, so it laced up just right. Once Al'd stepped back with a quiet, "Done," he quickly stepped into his boxers and trousers, then shrugged on the button-up shirt. While he did up the buttons – far more of them than he'd usually do, to help disguise the vest-turned-binding – and stepped into his boots, Al braided his hair for him, and Ed flashed him a grateful grin once his damp hair thumped back against his shirt.

"Come on, before Envy comes in again," Al said.

Ed felt his face twist with rage, and he ducked down to grab the jacket as he snarled, "I'm gonna chuck far worse than soap at the fucker if it keeps calling me a girl."

"I know, Brother," Al said in his best soothing tone, and Ed kept his head down just to keep from glaring at him; he knew Al was just trying to get him to calm down and not make a scene, but that didn't keep it from feeling like he was being placated like a child in the wrong.

Scuffing his feet against the floor with every step, Ed led the way out of the showers. And if he kept his head down to keep from having to see Envy's smirk, well. At least Al would approve.

-0-

It appeared that Ed was making a habit of waking up in non-military clinics without his binding, and with no sign of Al. It was a habit he really needed to figure out how to break. Like, months ago, because this was not cool.

However, unlike the time following their failure in lab five, Ed didn't have to wait for a nurse to come in to explain where he was, because one of Kimblee's chimeras – the blond one with the moustache and glasses – was sitting next to his bed, and him straightening as soon as Ed opened his eyes drew his attention.

"Kid's awake!" the blond called.

An older woman, hair almost as grey as Granny's, stepped into the room with a smile, while the blond got up, clearly intending to leave. "Greetings, young miss," the woman said.

"Mister," Ed corrected as flatly as he could manage, because it was that or scream, and his abdomen – which was already burning, even though he hadn't moved at all; whatever drugs they'd given him had probably only just worn off – was making a rather pointed case for a more mild manner.

The chimera paused at his correction, then hurried past the curtain serving as a door, clearly uninterested in taking part in the conversation. (Ed was absolutely with him.)

The woman eyed him for a moment, her gaze uncomfortably piercing.

And then she shrugged, squinting her eyes in the same way Ling always did, and agreed, "Young mister. I'm Anise, and my husband's Doctor Andrew Richardson; this is our clinic, in North City. That young man and his companion brought you in saying you'd taken a steel beam to the gut, but you'd managed to seal it with alchemy. Do you remember any of that?"

Ed swallowed, his head spinning a bit. Not in a dizzy way, thankfully, more like a little bit of confusion. Or a lot of confusion; that had been a far simpler battle than he was used to having with medical sorts. "I– Y-yes. I mean, the beam, and alchemising the wound closed, but I don't–"

"You were out cold when you got here," she said briskly, stepping around the bed he was lying on. "Been in and out of consciousness the past day or so. You apparently said something rather nasty to the other young man last night, so be prepared to sort that out later. Let me take a look at your wound."

Ed gingerly moved his arm out of her way, granting her access to his side, and she politely pulled the blanket and his borrowed shirt out of the way just enough to get at the bandaging, almost like she understood how freaked out Ed was about being naked around unfamiliar people. She was careful, but efficient, about pulling away the bandaging, so Ed only winced once, briefly, when it pulled at a bit of dried blood.

The wound was...ugly. A massive lump of a scab plastered to his abdomen, the skin around it an angry red. It had clearly pulled a few times, bits of dried blood staining his skin and the bandaging where it had leaked out.

"Well," Ed managed, his throat feeling dry, "that looks like shit."

The woman grunted, turning away with the bloodied bandaging, toward a small table that Ed was just now noticing next to his bed, which had a glass of water and replacement bandaging on it. "It's better than it could be," she informed him, and Ed had to give her that; he could always be dead. "And you haven't developed an infection, despite having been carried through mine shafts to get here."

Mine shafts? Oh, actually, that made sense; the two chimeras wouldn't have wanted to show themselves to the Briggs troops, most probably, assuming they'd even have been able to find a way up in Baschool, so travelling back east and south, to North City, would have been the best choice, especially if they'd needed to find a doctor for Ed.

Which, honestly, why? Why not just leave him? Wouldn't that have been safer for them? Leave the deadweight behind, hope the Briggs soldiers found him and got him to hospital before he froze. It wasn't like the two owed him anything! They'd been enemies only moments before, and getting the beam out of his gut had more than paid off him lifting the debris off of them.

He had a vague memory of being lifted onto the lion guy's back and breathing in his hair. Mane. Whatever. And maybe a promise to be his legs?

Everything after getting the beam out was kind of fuzzy. (Honestly, everything after the shaft collapsed was kind of fuzzy, save the moment he used his own soul to heal himself; he wasn't likely to ever forget that sensation.)

The woman – Anise, she said her name was? – turned back to him with a wet cloth, which she gently laid over the scab. Granny had done something similar to the scabs on his arm and leg, to help soften them, keep them from pulling as much every time he shifted, so he didn't bother worrying about it, instead asking, "How long?"

"You've been here for about five days," she replied calmly, turned away again to fuss with preparing some fresh bandaging.

Five days?

Five days?!

"Kimblee!" he remembered, icy panic flooding through his veins. Al and Winry didn't know Kimblee was following them! He needed to–!

A firm hand was pushing against his sternum – with far more strength than he would have expected – before he could rise more than an inch. "Lie down," Anise said, everything about her manner reminding him of Granny when she was furious with him.

Ed lay back, raising his hands in a show of surrender. "My brother's in danger," he tried, in hopes she'd understand why he needed to leave.

"You're in no shape to go to him," she replied flatly, because she was clearly heartless. "You'll probably rip your wound right back open before you make it three blocks, and be dead before you make the city limits, and then where will you be? Dead."

Ed scrunched his head down a bit, in turns angry and ashamed. Because she was right, he knew he needed time to heal, or he'd just make it worse, but Al and Winry!

"If you try to get up again, we'll sedate you," Anise informed him in that same sort of no nonsense tone that Granny always used when Ed did something unbelievably stupid.

"Yes'm," Ed mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

She let out a grunt that was clearly intended to get across how much she didn't believe he'd given up, and set about removing the damp cloth and re-bandaging the wound.

Which, actually, that reminded Ed, "What about my back?"

She cast him a considering look. "Can you turn over without help?"

Ed carefully shifted, bit his tongue at the pull of healing skin, then nodded. "Yeah," he managed in a voice that was only a little rough with pain.

She eyed him for a long moment, gaze assessing, then nodded. "Carefully," she cautioned.

Ed snorted, because he wasn't that stupid, thanks, and began carefully turning himself over, teeth clenched against the pain the whole way.

Still wasn't as bad as automail surgery, he told himself once he was lying on his front. Which was kind of a shitty standard to hold wounds to, but it was all about the mental reassurance that he'd had worse and so he'd get through this scrape, too. Or so he told himself.

Anise saw to the second wound with the same gentle efficiency as she had the first, and Ed had mostly recovered his strength by the time she was done, so he took a deep breath and turned back over. (As much as he liked being able to hide his chest by lying on his front, he couldn't see the door or drink or eat that way. Dammit.)

"Are you hungry?" she asked once Ed was on his back again, his shirt and blanket back in their respective places.

"Not...really," Ed decided, grimacing a bit, because he knew he needed to eat, to keep his strength up – not to mention just in case he was also sort of feeding Al's body – but all the moving about had skyrocketed the pain of his side, and that wiped out any chance of hunger. That said... "Is there soup?"

Anise's smile was approving as she nodded. "I'll find some," she promised, then turned to leave the room. Just before she brushed the curtain aside, she glanced back and asked, "Should I send you companions back in?"

Companions? Oh, the chimeras.

He shrugged, because he didn't really care. He was feeling a little tired, he supposed, after all that exertion, but asking the two about why they'd helped him and stuck around might help him stay up long enough to eat. Or he could nap and hope Anise woke him when whatever soup she found was ready. (Given Granny's policy had always been to let him sleep and just reheat the food when he woke up next, and Anise reminded him way too much of Granny, he suspected he'd be best off staying up if he wanted food.)

In the end, the chimeras did come in, both looking a little uncertain and keeping their distance from the bed as much as they could in the small patient room.

Ed felt a little like he'd just swallowed a shit-tonne of stones, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "The fuck didn't you just leave me in that mineshaft, you fucking morons?" he demanded.

The one with brown hair crossed his own arms over his chest, mouth twisting into a rather impressive scowl. "You saved our lives, kid. We're just returning the favour."

"Fine," Ed returned flatly. "Favour returned. The fuck're you still here for, then? Why not just piss off soon as you'd dropped me here?"

"How fucking heartless do you think we are, you little shit?" the brunet demanded, unfolding his arms and taking a step forward.

The blond grabbed his arm, hissing, "Darius."

The brunet crossed his arms back over his chest with a snarl, pretty obviously retreating.

"Do not–" Ed started as he tried to push himself into a sitting position, only to stop when fire raced through his gut, overpowering the rage at the fucker using the 'l' word.

And then the blond was there, gently pushing one way-too-large hand against Ed's shoulder. "Lay back down, kid. You're in no state to be getting up."

Ed really wanted to tell him where he could shove that bullshit, except his body was agreeing with the fucker, so he gave in and lay back down. Still, he managed to hiss out an irritated, "I'm not little!"

"Not little. Not a girl. Anything else you're not?" the brunet asked flatly.

"Not gonna hold back when I punch you in the fucking face!" Ed shouted. And, if not for the blond's hand on his shoulder, still, he'd have tried to get up again.

"Darius," the blond said again, followed by a heavy sigh.

The brunet very pointedly turned away.

The blond sighed again, and he was looking down at Ed with tired eyes when he glanced up at him. "You don't leave a man when he's down," he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whatever we may be, now, that's not going to change."

"You can't say that like it's common fucking sense," Ed muttered, looking down at his crossed arms over his chest, flesh and steel. "Plenty in the military think it's the smart thing to save themselves."

"We're not that sort." The blond's fingers curled over Ed's shoulder, like he was squeezing it in a show of companionship, or some shit. "Kimblee was, but–"

Ed's gaze jerked up and around at the mention of the psychopath, and something in his eyes had the blond shutting up. "Kimblee," he hissed, rage and terror filling him in equal measure, "is after my brother. And instead of fucking going after him–"

"You. Passed. Out," the brunet interrupted, and he didn't flinch from Ed's glare, met it head-on, like he thought he was right. "You weren't in any state to be protecting or warning anyone, and you said yourself you needed a doctor. So we found you a doctor."

"Look, kid," the blond called, and Ed looked back up at him, feeling a little lost and still so angry, "if it helps, there was a brief note in the paper, a couple days ago, that said you and your brother were both missing. Got lost in a blizzard while on military business."

"Al too?" Ed breathed, relief rushing through him, because if they weren't trying to dangle Al or Winry in front of him to get him to pop out, that meant–

"Him, too," the blond agreed, gently squeezing his shoulder.

–they were safe. They'd managed to evade Kimblee. Or – more likely – Scar'd taken one look at Kimblee and done his anti-State Alchemists spiel, and now Kimblee was dead.

That was one funeral Ed would happily attend, just to throw a fucking party at.

"That's...good. Awesome," Ed said, relaxing back against his pillow. "Great."

The blond squeezed his shoulder one last time, then pulled away. "We should let you rest."

"Wait," Ed requested, reaching out with his hand and stopping just before he could grab the guy's shirt, a little weirded out by that reaction. "What– I don't...know your names?"

"Ah." The blond turned back toward him, absently pushing the bridge of his glasses up with one finger. Not quite the same as Hughes had done, but close enough to send a pang of reminder through Ed's chest. "I am Heinkel Potez."

"Darius Wright," the brunet offered flatly, once Heinkel motioned pointedly at him.

"Ed," Ed offered – he assumed he didn't need to do a proper introduction, or anything – as he folded his arms back over his chest.

Darius cast him an odd look, then shrugged and stepped from the room.

"Sorry about Darius," Heinkel offered quietly. "He's been a bit off since he sat with you last night."

"Anise said I'd said something nasty to him, I guess?" Ed said, shrugged a bit uncomfortably.

Heinkel shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you talk in your sleep."

As he left, holding the curtain aside for Anise on the way, a lance of ice went down Ed's spine, and it was all he could do to swallow past the lump of something lodged in his throat.

He wasn't certain he wanted to know what he might have said.

-0-

As soon as Ed was declared strong enough, he left to get himself some food that was more filling than soup and bread and vegetables. He had to go out without any sort of binding, though, because Anise and her husband, Dr Richardson, had been quite firm in telling him no binding. For at least another month. Not even one of the little ones that only covered his chest, like he'd made after getting stuck in Gluttony. He'd got fed some bullshit line about healthy growth and how he never knew what might happen to his 'delicate, newly-grown skin' if he wore something that tight.

He was, however, allowed a brassiere, which he'd wasted no time in 'losing' under the bed; no fucking way he was wearing one of those gross girl things! Anyway, you'd think that shit would put the same sort of strain on his still-healing skin as binding, so fuck that shit.

So he went out without anything under his shirt, and briefly attempted to find some binding, before having to give up on account of his stomach.

Of course, once he'd left the grocery with his bag of delicious, it occurred to him that he'd never have been able to afford both binding and the food, which fucking sucked. He debated, briefly, stopping over somewhere to turn something he was wearing into some binding, but since he was intending to just go back to the clinic, and it would probably be confiscated as soon as Anise saw him, it wasn't worth it.

Next time, he promised himself, he'd remember to grab a spare shirt or bandaging or something and transmute it once he was out of the building. Should've done so that time, if he'd been thinking like a sane person, instead of salivating at the thought of real food.

Once he got back to the clinic building, though, he found the military parked outside, and his guard immediately went up.

He could run for it, just go after Al and forget about the chimeras and the doctors.

He couldn't do that.

He could maybe wait them out?

But what if Darius lost his temper, like he did way too often without Ed even trying, and a firefight broke out?

Ed squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath; he'd never been a coward before, and he wasn't going to start being one now.

He yanked a meat kabob out of his bag and shoved it into his mouth, then resettled his bag in his left arm, giving him plenty of manoeuvrability with his automail, and protecting the most tender part of his abdomen, then made his way into the building without looking at the military car parked outside.

There was a soldier stationed outside the door to the clinic, and Ed slowed as he approached him, asking around his kabob, "What're you soldiers doin' 'ere?"

"We're looking for someone," the soldier replied, clearly finding nothing suspicious about Ed, and he couldn't say if that was because his hair was down, or because there were fairly obvious lumps of gross on his chest, which his shirt didn't quite manage to hide. "Have you seen anyone suspicious coming and going from this building recently?"

Ed almost pointed out he was talking to someone suspicious, but insulting the military was hardly going to get him intel, so he resisted the urge, instead mumbling, "Suspicious? Don't fink so. What'd they look like?" around his kabob.

The soldier pulled out a little slip of paper. "Uh... Right. He's got a red coat, long blond hair usually worn in a braid, very short–"

Ed...didn't really have any say over the way his leg came up and slammed between the fucker's legs, because he was not short!

The guy bowed forward, his face twisting with agony, and Ed slammed his automail elbow against the back of his head, knocking him out cold and sending him to the floor.

"What was that?!" someone shouted from inside the clinic.

The door opened and a new military guy holding a gun stepped out. He was immediately distracted by his fallen comrade, dropping to his knees in front of him and pulling him up to shake him awake, calling, "Who did this to you?! Harris!"

Ed stepped up next to the guy, and he managed one terrified holler, before Ed knocked him out.

From the panicked shouting inside the clinic, there was only one guy left, so Ed slipped inside, dodged around Heinkel – who let out a near-silent sigh – then punched through the wall at about the spot the guy was standing, judging by how he'd peeked around the doorway, and choked him until he stopped making gurgling noises.

Darius said something to himself, a little too quiet for Ed to hear under the sound of the body slumping to the floor and the bed creaking. And then, louder, Darius said, "Don't be so reckless! You're still recovering, remember?"

Ed stepped into the doorway, snarling, "Don't treat me like I'm a fucking weak-arse girl!"

Darius made a show of rolling his eyes while he shoved his gun away at the back of his trousers. "Because you're really the picture of masculinity."

"You wanna fight?!" Ed shouted, balling his automail into a fist.

"Save it for later, you two," Heinkel ordered, catching Ed's right shoulder in his abnormally large hand. "We need to get out of here before the reinforcements arrive."

"Fuckin' military," Ed muttered at the same time as Darius grumbled, "Fucking reinforcements."

Heinkel sighed. "Coats, and grab anything you can't live without. Let's go."

Ed glanced into the patient room, determined he had everything he needed on his person, then joined the chimeras in leaving the clinic. While Heinkel collected more weapons and bullets from the fallen soldiers, Ed picked up the piece of paper the first guard had been reading off of. "Red coat and a braid, huh?" he mumbled around the bread he'd shoved in his mouth as he'd stepped out of the clinic. He glanced at the fall of his hair over the shoulder of his white coat and shrugged. "Guess I'll keep this look for a while."

Which was about when the reinforcements showed up, and Ed got 'held hostage' so they could retreat without getting shot at. Darius stole a car, which Ed then transmuted once they'd turned a corner, to hide them from their pursuers.

Once he'd been talked into changing the car back – lame – and they were on their way out of the city, Heinkel turned back to look at him and commented in a carefully mild tone, "They're going to be after us again, and now they've got Darius and my descriptions, which means we can't run errands any more."

Ed waved the slip of paper he'd picked up at that. "Whatever. They're looking for my coat and braid; so long as I stick with the white coat and tie my hair up different, they're not gonna spot me."

"You know what's an even better disguise, Mr Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Cutting my hair?" Ed suggested, while Heinkel sighed in that way that meant he regretted everything.

Darius caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror and said, "You going around as a girl."

"No," Ed said, keeping his tone as flat as he could. "Not a fucking chance. 'M not a fucking girl, and I'm not gonna run around playing one."

"It's not a...terrible disguise," Heinkel said a bit gingerly. "And you're already–" he coughed, clearly uncomfortable "–equipped."

"No."

"I heard the doc, you know," Darius commented, a gleam of victory in his eyes. "No flattening yourself for a month."

"That's just some fucking bullshit attempt to make me into a fucking girl!" Ed snarled, crossing his arms over his ugly chest as tight as he could; half to hide the protrusions growing there, half to keep himself from throttling the smug fucker, because he was driving and Ed didn't really wanna deal with an accident. "Arsehole medical fuckers pull that shit on me all the fucking time!"

"You really want to chance it?" Heinkel pressed.

"Yes!" Ed shouted. "I'd rather get another fucking beam in my gut than play some fucking girl!"

"Heinkel," Darius cautioned as Heinkel opened his mouth again.

Heinkel subsided and they fell into silence.

Ed drooped against the back bench, feeling way too fucking drained, and hating how much he'd probably just revealed to the two arseholes.

Whatever. Nothing he could do to brush it off any more.

-0-

Ed's plans to find Al at the hideout Mustang'd shown them in the Central City outskirts turned up no sign of his brother, but they did find Ling. Greed. Whoever.

The one problem Ed hadn't really foreseen with travelling with guys who weren't Al, was dealing with their weird, fucked-up sexual bullshit. Like, just because there were lumps of fat on his chest and his privates didn't dangle, meant he needed a fucking room or tent to himself. Which, given, the extra space was nice, if a little lonely, but it had the unfortunate side effect of Greed asking why the chimeras insisted Ed get his own room.

"Because the kid's got a chick's body," Darius had said, so fucking carelessly.

(Ed suspected it was payback for outing him and Heinkel as chimeras to Greed when they'd first met up.)

Greed, of course, had then turned to Ed with a considering look, and he opened his mouth and–

His face froze for a moment, then softened into an apology. "I'm sorry, Ed," said what was clearly Ling, because he was way more likely to apologise.

And then Ling's face froze again, before twisting with irritation. "Fucking prince," he growled, before turning back to Ed and giving him a very obvious look down, then back up, his smile widening into something that sent chills down Ed's spine.

"Leave the kid alone," Heinkel ordered, one of his way-too-big hands coming to rest on Ed's left shoulder, while Darius sort of shifted to the side a bit, more behind Ed that he had been.

"It sounds," Greed practically purred, "like someone needs to discover the pleasures of their female form."

Ed remembered Hawkeye telling him to punch anyone who tried pushing him into sex with his automail, so he stepped forward, shaking off Heinkel's hand, and said, "I'm sorry, too, Ling," then slammed his fist into Greed's face as hard as he could.

Greed stumbled back a step, his eyes gone a bit wide, and red energy sparking across his face as bones reformed.

"Every time you try a fucking line like that," Ed promised, clenching his fists as tight as he could and hoping they weren't shaking, "I will punch you in the fucking face. You fucking touch me, I'll rip your hand off. You call me a fucking girl or start in about women shit, I'll break your fucking male pride. Clear?"

Greed straightened, a line of blood leading from one nostril to his lips. "I do love them feisty," he said with a wide, horrible grin.

Ed punched him again, then followed up with a roundhouse kick, just to give him some extra time to turn and walk away, slipping through the space between the chimeras, which was just barely big enough for him.

They didn't move as he walked away, so far as he could tell, though he was fairly certain he heard someone cracking their knuckles. Assuming that wasn't something Ed had broken for Greed reforming.

That night on, Ed no longer got a room or tent to himself, but he also never bunked with Greed. And, weirdly, he trusted his chimera roommate was enough to keep Greed from sneaking in, so he didn't have any trouble sleeping.

-0-

It took about a month of getting beat up by Ed – and whatever other shit the chimeras did when Ed wasn't around – for Greed to stop making lecherous comments to Ed. Instead, he took his frustrations out on local women – and occasionally men, unexpectedly – and started treating Ed like just another guy he was travelling with. Which was...awesome.

Right up until Greed's proclivities found them running from a village in the middle of the night with only the clothing they'd worn to bed and a couple sheets that Heinkel had grabbed for whatever reason.

So they were stuck in the woods, in the winter, without money or provisions, and with only half of their clothing between them – Ed was the only one who was wearing a shirt, and Greed was completely naked. Ed managed to transmute just enough clothing for them to keep from freezing to death while they debated options, though he was of the opinion that a bit of freezing would be good for Greed.

Heinkel and Darius placed themselves on either side of Ed, huddling close enough to keep him warm. And he wanted to be angry about that pretty obvious coddling attempt, except his ports were already aching from the cold – cold-weather automail only helped so much when you didn't have sufficient insulation against the cold, not to mention that he wasn't using the right oil for the cold, which meant his automail was in danger of locking up if it was too cold for too long without refreshing it – and fuck knew none of them were happy with Greed right then.

"How the fuck are we supposed to survive the night out here?" Darius snarled, glaring at Greed.

"We need to sneak back in and get our kits," Heinkel murmured.

Darius barked a laugh, didn't have to say what they were all aware of: They'd been in that village for almost two weeks, so everyone knew them, and Greed sleeping with half the town's wives and daughters – including the mayor's, which was what had started the mob – meant everyone was out to get their blood.

Greed, though, was staring at Ed a bit thoughtfully. "Oh, I think Fullmetal can sneak in just fine, just as soon as we find a dress."

"Fuck. No," Ed responded as flatly as he could manage.

Greed smiled, and it wasn't a nice one. "You'd rather starve? Or freeze to death, more likely. All three of you."

Ed bared his teeth at the fucker, because he knew what Greed was doing, reminding Ed that it wasn't just his life on the line. (Greed had said, all those months ago, that people like him – people who cared – were easy to manipulate.)

Was his pride worth Darius and Heinkel's lives?

No. Never. They were his friends, as much as they'd been through, and the mere idea of them dying when he could have done something to prevent it, turned Ed's stomach.

He swallowed and looked down at his thin, bedsheet-turned-clothing outfit for a moment, then closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, then transmuted himself a version of one of the winter-time dresses Mum had tried to get him to wear as a kid.

Greed's slow clap had Ed opening his eyes to glare at the fucker, and Greed grinned back, then said, "That actually quite suits you, darling."

Ed was moving toward Greed before he even thought about it, automail fist cocked back to punch. He barely managed to stop himself before he connected with the carbon shield that had covered Greed's face by the time he reached him, because they'd been just far enough apart. "I will rip off your bollocks one day, when you least expect it," Ed promised in as threatening a tone as he could manage.

"Go on, Miss Fullmetal," Greed said, grinning wide and unafraid behind his shield. "Clothing and food, before the cold gets to us normal men's bollocks first."

Ed couldn't really tell if the icy feeling in his chest was because he'd been out in the cold too long, or because of what Greed had just said, but the fucker did have a point about the cold's effect on Darius and Heinkel, and Ed couldn't punch him right that moment without a bit of fancy alchemy. He'd wring Greed's throat once he'd gone to sleep.

It was true enough that no one cast Ed-as-a-girl a second glance. Rather, he was quickly ushered into the small inn and offered a spot in front of the fire and some warm cider. He accepted both, trying not to feel too guilty – he doubted Darius or Heinkel would refuse him a few minutes to warm his metal limbs back up – and waited until the innkeeper had got distracted by a villager who was apparently part of the group watching for Greed to come back into the village for his things, to sneak up to their rooms.

He didn't bother getting everything, mostly because he could only carry so much, but also because it would be easier to manage less stuff, especially if he got caught. (Anyway, Greed clearly didn't need any of his shit, save the wad of bank notes shoved in the pocket of his trousers.)

Ed somehow managed to sneak back out of the village with no one the wiser, despite his well-known inability to sneak around. Greed was very much unimpressed with what he'd grabbed, but Ed told him, on no uncertain terms, where he could shove that, and Darius had let out a laugh that shivered, which reminded Ed he needed to pass out warmer clothing.

Greed, thankfully, did not get them kicked out of any other villages. He did suggest Ed put on a dress a couple more times, but Ed was always happy to break his face a bit to remind him that he might be the 'boss' of their little band, but Ed would never dance to that particular tune for anything less than life-or-death.

-0-

It was somehow fitting that they'd find Hohenheim in a slum.

As soon as the bastard saw Ed, he straightened a bit and said, "So, you've come, Edit–"

Ed rushed forward the necessary steps and put all of his weight into breaking the bastard's face.

Greed let out a rather heartfelt, "Ouch," while Darius whistled and Heinkel sighed.

Ed gave his metal fist a pleased nod. "I feel so much better, now," he announced, and hoped the bastard wouldn't ruin it by trying to use that name again.

"You didn't have to punch me with the automail," Hohenheim complained, rubbing at his face even as it repaired itself the same way Greed's always did. Which was freaky, but not unexpected; Winry had said Hohenheim had some pretty heavy stuff to pass on.

Hohenheim made a show of groaning as he got up, then turned toward where Greed, Darius, and Heinkel had hung back a bit. "Are these your friends?" he asked Ed.

"No," Greed answered before Ed could. "I'm his boss."

"And we're just along for the ride," Darius added, motioning between himself and Heinkel.

Hohenheim stepped forward and bowed slightly toward Greed. "Thank you so much for looking after my child."

"No problem," Greed promised. "The cocky little shit does need a bit of a firm hand, right?"

"Shut up!" Ed snarled, readying his fist to punch Greed.

But then Hohenheim said, "That's an interesting tattoo," looking at Greed's left hand.

"This?" Greed said, raising the hand in question so the tattoo was in better light. "I guess there's no point in hiding it," he admitted, before pinning Hohenheim with a hard stare. "Don't try to hide anything from us, either, old man."

Hohenheim looked over all of them, meeting Ed's glare last, then dropped his head forward and nodded. "I'll tell you everything," he promised, motioning toward the logs around the fire pit.

Hohenheim, true to his word, told them everything. (Or, well, Ed could only assume it was everything.) It was freakish and horrifying and something in Ed's chest hurt, just a little bit, so it wasn't hard to ignore it. It hurt a little bit more when Hohenheim suggested he use the bastard to bring Al's body back, and Ed nearly punched him.

But, then, Hohenheim said, "What about for fixing your own body? Make yourself male?"

Ed froze, couldn't breathe for a moment, because–

Because it was tempting. Still. Same as in Gluttony, forever and ever. He wanted that, wanted to fix himself, to be the same person, outside, as he was inside.

But–

Could he use other people's lives for his own gain?

"I can't," he choked out, and that admittance burned all through him. Because, as much as he needed a male body, he couldn't stand the thought of getting one – polluting one – by killing other people. Something like that, wouldn't it just make that body feel as wrong as his girl's body did? And then what would he be?

Hohenheim closed his eyes and inclined his head. "I see," he murmured, and they were all quiet for a long moment, before he asked if Ed would fight with him against the Dwarf in the Flask. Which, well, of fucking course he was going to be taking that fucker down, with or without Hohenheim's help!

"That's everything, for the moment," Hohenheim finally said. "Get a bite to eat and a good night's sleep."

"Er, right," Ed agreed, feeling a little...off-centre. A little bit because Hohenheim had recognised that he wasn't a girl. (Like, maybe, Al'd managed to get through to him, while they'd been in Liore together. If so, Ed owed his brother a fucking hell of a lot, shit.)

As he turned to go, Ed remembered what Granny had asked him the last couple times he'd seen her, and he turned back toward the bastard, calling, "Hey! Granny asked me to give you Mum's last words!"

Hohenheim turned toward him, eyes hidden behind the reflection of light on his glasses.

"She said, 'Sorry I couldn't keep my promise. I'm going first'."

Hohenheim was completely still for a moment, and then he raised his face toward the stars and started to sob.

Ed's chest ached, even as panic shot through him, and he took a couple rushed steps back, stammering out a couple half-verbalised words of disbelief, before he managed to get one hand up to point at the bastard and get out, "M-men don't c-cry!"

Hohenheim pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, quietly offering, "I'm sorry, Ed."

Ed, not Edith. Like Hohenheim had accepted what Mum never had.

Ed turned and fled, unable to face the horrible mess of emotions in his chest, and unwilling to spend any more time with the broken down mess that was his father.

-0-

"So," the white figure said when Ed opened his eyes to the white space, "you're here to get your brother back. But, how will you bring back an entire human being? What about the toll? What will you offer in payment?"

Ed stared past it, at the massive stone doors. And, once it'd shut up, the stepped past it to stand direct in front of them.

"The toll is right here," he said. "And it's a big one, too."

"The portal of truth exists within all humans," the figure said. "It is what gives all people the potential to use alchemy. Will you really fall to the level of an ordinary human? Unable to use alchemy?"

"Fall to their level?" Ed repeated, thinking of the chimeras and Ling and Hawkeye and Mustang's team, all people unable or unwilling to use alchemy. All people who had inspired or protected him during his and Al's long journey. "I've never been anything but an ordinary human." He looked down at his chest, unbound, because his binding had been destroyed beyond saving during the battle; now everyone knew what he was. "I'm nothing but a hopeless human being who's stuck in a body that's all wrong.

"Ever since I saw this thing called truth, I got suckered in by its power. I became over confident, making mistake after mistake." Nina; Hughes; Ling being taken by Greed; putting Winry in danger, twice; getting a mine shaft dropped on himself... Even his own temptation to fix his body, despite knowing he'd be taking the lives of other people to do so. "It was a wild ride, but it's over, now."

"Are you sure you can manage without it?"

Al and Winry, Teacher and Sig, Hawkeye and Mustang, the chimeras, even his father had learned to accept him for who he was; it was about time Ed learnt to accept himself, wrong body and all. And if getting rid of his only chance to fix himself was what it took? Well, at least he knew there were people who would stand behind him the whole fucking way.

He turned and flashed the figure a sharp smile and said, "Even without my alchemy, I'll still have all my friends."

"That's the correct answer, Alchemist," the figure said, and Ed pressed his hands together. "You've beaten me. Take him. All of him."

Ed slammed his hands against the stone.

Energy sparked, then blazed.

"The door," the figure said, and Ed turned to find it vanishing is it pointed toward where Al was sitting, "it over...there..."

"There you are, you reckless fool!" Ed called as he made his way across the space between them. When he reached his brother, he held down a hand to him and said, "I'm here to bring you home, Al."

Al was smiling like he'd never once doubted Ed would come for him. His hand, when he held it up to Ed, was as thin and weak as the hand Ed held down to him, but when they touched, it was warm.

"Let's go home," Ed managed, didn't really care how thick his voice was, because he had his brother back. "Everybody's waiting for us!"

-0-

Ed wouldn't let himself be treated until after someone had looked at Darius and the other two chimeras' wounds, so he knew there was someone he trusted with Al. Even then, he'd probably have just told the medic to see to him there, but Teacher had dragged him along after her with an unimpressed stare, so he ended up following her toward the hastily erected women's medical tent, which promised to be awkward in the extreme.

Before they managed to actually reach it, however, Hohenheim called, "Ed," from just behind him.

Startled – he doubted it would ever not be weird to hear the bastard using his proper name – Ed turned back to look, only to find his father standing just behind him, looking a little worse for the wear, himself. "What do you want, old man?" he asked, unable to find quite as much heat as he'd have preferred, but he blamed that on exhaustion.

Hohenheim smiled. "To right one last wrong," he said, and then reached forward and rested his hand against the top of Ed's chest, the tips of his fingers pressing into the skin of his throat.

Red light sparked, and Ed had enough time for his eyes to widen in disbelief – horror? gratitude? – before he was wreathed in the blaze of red.

Everything in his body sort of...shifted, was the only word for it. It wasn't painful, quite, but it was disconcerting.

As the light faded away, Ed saw Hohenheim slowly deconstructing, a wide smile on his face. "Good-bye, my son."

"Hohenheim!" Ed shouted, reaching for him, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good.

Except, the voice that came out wasn't his. It was a little too deep.

"Ed," Teacher breathed from just behind him. "You're a–"

"Boy," Ed finished, staring down at his flat chest.

He'd–

Hohenheim had–

Ed realised that, actually, it turned out that boys do cry, and that was actually pretty okay.

OWARI

.