Two Months Later

Only a couple of months since the insurrection, Central began to rebuild itself, architecturally and culturally. Headquarters was returning to its former glory, with workers on suspended platforms along the sides of the structure, patching and painting, and alchemists worked everywhere, their energy fixing what physical labor couldn't.

A young man with short blonde hair and a casual coat walked through the courtyard of the building, heavy boots scraping along the ground. He came to see the progress on the complex, specifically beneath the surface. To his pleasure, his proposal to collapse the underground city was accepted, and the operation was completed not an hour earlier. Then he walked, giving himself a relaxing moment to counteract all the stress he'd been experiencing the past few months. It was only a moment, but it was enough. He had recovered from the battle, physically and emotionally. Mentally... He was still working on that. Fighting for your life leaves a scar.

Then someone walked past him. A tall, muscular figure in a blue uniform, specially made, like they were for all chimeras. Scales revealed themselves in parts that the uniform didn't cover up. They ran from beneath his collar up his neck, and faded away under his chin, framing an angular face with piercing reptilian eyes. A tail dragged behind him.

They exchanged greetings, the young man nodding and smiling, and the chimera smiling in turn, showing rows of pointed teeth.

All chimeras who had participated in the fight against the Führer, and all those who were in hiding since before the civil war, were allowed to continue existing and pursue lives in the cities. Those chimeras who were created by the military and used against the rebels were either incarcerated or executed as both war criminals and out of an act of mercy, since most of the chimeras were unstable and engineered to be violent. Their fates were a circumstance that most of the surviving and stable chimeras had accepted and supported, for the most part. The surviving chimeras were given the opportunity to join the military, which a surprising number of them did. The rest were free to go about their lives.

All things considered, the young man could call himself satisfied with the way things turned out.

"Good to see you, sir."

Edward Elric looked up from the ground, where his gaze had been while in thought. "Oh," he said, smiling, "Hello, Marcus."

The chimera smiled back, his eyes wrapped, but still hidden under a hood he'd requested on his own blue uniform, long enough to hang over his eyes, which gave his appearance an air of mystery. His sharp chin now sported a light layer of stubble. "I heard the operation was a success."

Edward knew that by "operation", he meant the final demolition of what lay beneath Central. "Yeah, it went well. Perfectly, actually. They buried the elevator shaft and built over the entrance. There's nothing down there anymore."

Marcus nodded, his smile turning to a thoughtful frown as he recalled the evil that dwelt in the now non-existent underground city. "I'm glad."

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing well. I'm grateful for the offer to join the military. And, all things considered, the soldiers have been easy on my kind." Another smile.

Edward smiled again, "I'm glad."

Edward walked further along the streets of Central, towards the civilian district, a few miles from the headquarters, where he, along with a few of his closest acquaintances, lived.

On his way, he ran into someone familiar.

"Dad!" he called to the man's back, running up to match his pace.

"Ah, Edward. What brings you out on such a nice day?" Hohenheim turned and gave him a fatherly smile.

"Official business. You know."

"So the underground city is gone?"

His son nodded.

"I'm glad. After so many years I can finally begin to put my sins to rest. Starting with that damned city," he went on, holding his chin, until he realized himself again and looked up to face his son. "Thank you."

He nodded as they passed Edward's home that he shared with his brother, a small apartment given to them by the new government. Quickly, he put a hand on his father's shoulder. "I'll see you later, dad." Backtracking, he got to the apartment and swept through the door, down the hallway, and into another room.

Mustang looked up from a newspaper. "I thought we had the day off."

Edward hung up his coat and took a seat by the window. "Yeah, but I went to oversee the destruction of that city."

"And?"

"It's gone, and headquarters still stands."

Mustang watched him for a moment, "I'm glad. There were so many things that could have gone wrong."

Alphonse arrived from the kitchen, interjecting himself into the conversation. "I heard right? It went well?"

Edward nodded, smiling. In the past two months, he and Alphonse had spoken about almost everything, catching up and making Edward feel as close to normal as they could manage. There was not only the matter of rebuilding their city, but also their relationships.

"Oh, good. I'm glad. A lot less to worry about, right?

"Less, at least."

"Now there's just the problem of all of the despots and residual sympathizers emerging from the woodwork. We're on the brink of another civil war," Mustang added.

"We'll get them, too. Once parliament is implemented, things will be better," Edward said.

A complacent silence passed among them, before Mustang checked his watch and set down the newspaper. "I've got an appointment," he said hurriedly, getting up from the couch, grabbing his own coat from the hanger, and rushing out of the apartment.

"I wonder where he's got to get to so urgently," Alphonse said, leaning against the frame of the door to the kitchen.

Edward shrugged and picked up the discarded newspaper, a smile spreading across his face. "Wherever he's going and whatever he's doing, I'm sure it's of the utmost importance."

The Colonel strode down the street, comfortable to be in casual clothes instead of his usual uniform, especially on a warm spring day. He kept his gaze to the ground as he walked, looking up only at the exact moment a familiar man walked by.

He looked different since the last time Mustang saw him, with short black hair, dark eyes, and just a different overall look to him. And he had moved in by the Elric brothers and their father with his own companion.

As they passed, they nodded to one another. A quiet greeting. Both had places to go.

Hunter cradled the small bunch of flowers in his arms, careful not to let them get damaged. They were for a special person.

He passed the Elric's residence, arriving at his apartment a few doors down. Inside, he saw that she was not home, so he set down the flowers on a small table by the door and lied back on the couch, setting his feet up on the end and pulling his arms behind his head, eager for an afternoon's nap.

She walked in an hour later, back from some errands.

"Gr-" She stopped, correcting herself. "Hunter?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw something bright, and turned her head to discover the flowers left for her. She picked them up with a smile and walked down the hallway, entering the living room and seeing him asleep on the couch.

With a wider smile, she set down the flowers and went quietly to the couch, settling next to him and into his shape.

He woke up a moment later, startled, and looked down, seeing her nestled against his chest. "Hey there."

She looked up at him. "Afternoon. How are you holding up?"

"Good," he said, stretching. "Where were you?"

Biting her lip, she disengaged from him and sat up. "The doctor's office."

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Why? Is something wrong?"

She placed a hand on her belly and laughed nervously. "Well, what's your definition of 'wrong'?"

"Oh..." he said, a smile forming on his lips as he cocked his head. "That's new."

Laughing, she hit him in the chest, to which he weakly defended. "We should go visit the boys."

Sitting up, Hunter slid a hand behind Anita's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. "Later," he said. "For right now, we have some celebrating to do, right?"

He had hidden away in the old home for a month or three. It was hard for the child to keep track of the days. Since all that had happened in one day, he'd been stressed with his very existence, keeping to himself and trying to forget.

Now, he slipped out of the small house for the first time since then, and walked out to the edge of the forest, where the ground dropped to the town's level. The town was bustling again, looking more like it was on the verge of being a small city, especially since the construction of new large buildings. The boy looked out on his hands and knees, since he was too afraid to look over the cliff on just his own two legs.

As he scanned the town, something caught his eye. It had been there always, a defining feature of the town, very noticeable, but at that moment it caught the boy off guard. Its blue waters, soft shore, and the impressive, almost dynamic center island. He knew it was there he had to go.

"Mama..." he murmured, getting to his feet and edging towards the cliff. He hadn't eaten any stones since his mother died and since his family left, including his brothers, his pretty sister, and her pet. He also hadn't gotten injured since then, so it wouldn't make sense that he could be vulnerable now.

Using that logic and a child's sense of spontaneity, the boy named Wrath changed the structure of his hand to something much more durable, moved closer to the cliff, and swung over the edge. With surprising speed, he slid down the face of the cliff, landing hard in the back woods behind the more populated areas.

With his appearance, he was easily able to walk the streets of Dublith without much more than a few curious glances. Within a while, about a half an hour, he reached the shores of the lake. His gaze lingered on the distant island before he realized he had no way of getting over to his destination. Looking around, he noticed some boats tied and waiting on the shore. Some had owners nearby, some doting over their vessels, and a few smaller row boats with no distinguishable claim. Despite the number of boats, the island was not a popular spot to visit.

Wrath picked out one boat, a small, rickety thing, and began going towards it, looking around to watch for wandering eyes. No one noticed when the boy untied the boat, pushed it into the water, hopped in and dug out the oar. He began rowing away with one more look, and still no one noticed.

The boy looked ahead, his intense violet gaze on the island, rowing tirelessly, his anticipation growing, and he knew he was where he needed to be.

On the beach of the island, Wrath pushed the boat back out towards the shore of the town, watching it drift away.

He stumbled on wobbly legs, too used to the gentle sway of the water, trying to seek purchase on the loose sand.

"I'm almost home, Mother..." he said quietly as he disappeared into the dark forest.

A tall, slim woman strode along the streets of a desert city. A time of peace had come over the area recently, after so many years of war or preemptive occupation, a time she'd been waiting for. With Amestris' dictator gone, there was more peace between the advanced and developing nations, more sharing of the cultures, more room to move around.

A month before, she hid out until it was the right time to re-establish herself among the Ishbalans, which was a feat in its own. Before that, she'd disposed of her previous companion, a child-like man of massive girth and an insatiable appetite, which had been unavoidable. He, unlike the other homunculi, had not actually been created from the soul of another being, and therefore had no place left once the rest of them began to change. He was unstable, primitive, and although she felt some remorse in the act, she knew it was the right thing to do.

Once returning, there was no place for her to go where she was familiar, and the manner in which she had left many years ago left her in bad taste. Her old acquaintances would no longer be there, as with her family and dwellings.

No one noticed anything out of the ordinary about her presence, a small procedure, done herself, made sure of that. The tattoo, one she could only hide with a high-necked shirt, or at least higher than she was used to, was scarred with one long gash down the middle of it. At the time, she had to restrain herself from cutting it to oblivion, so she wouldn't have to look at it or suffer the implications put upon the native people, but that would have caused her more harm than good.

Now she walked along the marketplace, her long hair and her tattoo hidden by a scarf she wore around her shoulders and head, a very elegant piece of silk clothing commonly worn by the native women to keep the dust out of their hair. Some men wore hoods, but for the most part didn't care much.

She stopped at a stand with colorful baskets filled with fruits and vegetables she hadn't seen before, or hadn't seen for many years.

"Anything interest you?"

Frozen from the familiarity of the voice, she turned and nearly bruised the soft piece of fruit she held once she saw who spoke to her. "You..."

He looked at her in the same way, with confusion, surprise, and a little frustration. His eyebrows were pulled in tight, manipulating the scarred skin on his forehead, the scar in the shape of a wide X. "You..." he said in like.

They stared at one another for a few quiet moments before he snatched the fruit from her hands, put it back in one of the baskets, and yelled something to a young man nearby, who was busy reading and set the book down to move his seat to behind the stand. It seemed a temporary change of ownership had taken place as the scarred man took her hand and looked at her with his dark eyes. "We should talk."

She could honestly say she was scared as he pulled her away from the marketplace, urgently getting away from the crowds, down a side street, and towards a large fountain. She tugged her hand away, taking a step back. "But, Scar... I don't know what to say to you." While she knew what had happened to his brother, to him, and to his people was not ultimately her fault, humans were humans and the way they acted out of desperation was infamous.

Scar let her stand back, not trying to seem threatening. "I know," he said, turning his back to her, "But, things have changed. I have changed and, clearly, so have you."

She remained quiet for several moments. Then she sighed and approached him again, gently grabbing his hand and steering him towards the fountain. "Alright, we can talk."

"Great," he said, "What should I call you?"

She pursed her lips, "Whatever I was called before." Unlike what she thought would happen, she couldn't recall her old name, her real name. Maybe that would come in time.

As they took a seat on the edge of the fountain, showered by a refreshing mist, especially in the hot desert weather. He smiled at her, "You got it."

Mustang found his friend on the roof of the redeveloping Central Headquarters, looking out over the city. The scene was reminiscent of the same scene a few months ago, except the Colonel hoped to play it out differently.

He walked up with two cups of coffee, somewhat better since the last time he tasted it. He set one on the edge of the building and pushed it towards his friend, Major Armstrong.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Yeah, of course."

They stood in silence, drinking the coffee that was uncomfortably hot for a nice spring day, but the jolt of caffeine was just what they needed.

"A lot of changes going on," Mustang offered.

"Yeah, some for the better," Armstrong replied.

The Colonel frowned. His friend was still pessimistic, even after the battle for Central and its outcome. Of course, he knew the Major hated death by violence. Why he ever went into the military was beyond even him.

"So, I guess you still only see gray?" Mustang asked, swirling his cup of coffee around in his hands, watching the deep brown liquid lap up against the sides.

He heard the Major sigh. "Colonel, I know you're worried about my attitude, but worrying won't change it."

The Colonel shrugged, "Who said anything about changing it?"

They looked around uncomfortably, trying to avoid one another's attention. Finally, the Colonel noticed the lovely day.

"Look," he said, pointing upwards. The Major followed his gaze and looked up as well, silent.

"Blue."

Well, it's been fun. Thank you for all of the support, and watch out for any future stories, if you want. :3