This is a little pet project of mine; something that I worked on for me because I wanted to write it. With the urging of close friends, I'm posting it for you to read. I would also like to thank my beta, Masamune Reforged up front for his input and insight.

Mirrors of Yesterday

I

Through the Looking Glass

-
The last thing Ed remembered was turning in time to see the out of control car hit him. He'd tried to jump out of the way, but it had been too late. He remembered falling to the ground and the fuzzy shouts of people yelling for a doctor, remembered the pain and someone kneeling next to him, calling his name... then nothing.

Ed thrust his hands into the deep pockets of his brown trousers and rounded his shoulders a bit. It was cold, but not too cold, and the fact that he was wearing his long brown overcoat helped. He sighed and stared out at the rain from where he was leaning against the side of a building; the awning of the book shop keeping him protected from the downpour.

A car rumbled slowly by and he followed the blurry shape with his eyes until he could no longer see it. The make and model definitely wasn't German. In fact, it looked more like... Ed sucked in his breath and glanced again at this small shop he was standing by. He recognized the shop. He'd seen it several times before, but it had been a long time since then.

A very long time.

The last time Ed had been in East City, he had been sixteen. Amestris was where he'd been born and raised, but it was a place that had only existed in his fading memories and in his deepest dreams for the past eighteen years. It was a place where the science of alchemy was a magic that was real, not just an illusion or a trick of the eye.

Ed watched as a redheaded boy of about eleven or twelve ran through the pouring rain toward the canopy. The boy gasped heavily at having to run and wiped the water out of his eyes. After a moment, he opened the bag he was carrying and took out a newspaper before walking into the bookstore, making the bell on the door jingle. A moment later, the bell rattled again as the same boy came out and yelled a 'you're welcome' back to the shop keeper.

Ed eyed the boy with more interest. The language the kid had used hadn't been German, English, or any of the other European languages he'd grown used to hearing. It had been the language of Amestris, with a heavy eastern accent.

"Boy," Ed said quietly, and was slightly amused to hear the German accent as he spoke his native tongue for the first time in a long time. And to think there had been a time that he'd had an Amestris accent when he spoke German or English...

The paperboy glanced up at him in surprise and said, "Yes, sir?"

"May I see one of your papers; just for a moment?"

The boy ran a hand through his scraggily red hair and said warily, "These are already paid for."

"I'm not going to take it; I just want to see the cover. You could even hold it up for a moment..."

The boy's green eyes flickered away as he considered this suggestion carefully, then fished one of the newspapers out and held it up. Ed ignored the cover story and quickly read the date. He thanked the boy, who stuffed the newspaper back in the bag and ran off.

Ed sighed and looked up at the bright yellow canopy above him. How was it possible that he was here? Not just how was it possible, but how did he get here? He tried to focus his mind, tried to think back, but couldn't remember anything after the car hit him. All he knew was that he was standing here and it was raining. He wanted to believe this was a dream, but the hard stone wall he was leaning on seemed real enough and the cold, wet air was certainly real enough to give him a chill.

He pressed his lips together when he thought of the date printed on the newspaper. He'd lived in Germany for eighteen years, but according to the newspaper, he hadn't been gone from Amestris at all. In fact, according to the newspaper, he hadn't even left yet, and wouldn't for almost another year...

Of course, this was all wrong. He remembered coming back through the gate briefly when he was eighteen, so it wasn't as if time could have stood still while he was gone. Time always went on. Even on the other side of the gate he'd lived with his brother for a time and had seen him fall in love, marry, and have children...

Ed sighed and thought of his own wife, now eight years dead. The two years they'd had together had been nice... not great, but okay. But as the saying goes, all things must come to an end. What they'd had... well... they'd had their problems, everyone does, but he had cared for her... He blinked away the sudden tears and tried to think about something else.

One part of Ed supposed he should go somewhere, perhaps get out of the cold, but where would he go? He could go inside the bookstore, but he had no money and wouldn't be able to stay there very long. Another part of him argued that this couldn't possibly be real, so what was the point of going anywhere? Just let this bizarre dream, or phenomenon, or whatever it was, pass on...

Suddenly, the bell jingled again, alerting Ed to someone exiting the shop. He continued to stare out into the rain as he heard a wobbly voice say, "Well, I appreciate your business, and that you actually pay me and not put it on a tab."

There was a chuckle, then, "Of course. I know how the military works. I would hate for you to not be paid for these."

The voice grabbed at him and, as if in a dream, he turned his head to see who was speaking. Standing at the door were two men. An old man stood partially in the shop, his white hair sticking up at odd angles; and a younger man, this one with fine black hair, wearing a military uniform mostly covered by a long, black coat and carrying a neatly wrapped package. Books, Ed guessed, wrapped to protect them from the rain.

"I'll hate to lose your business when you finally get transferred back to Central," the old man said.

The younger man shook his head and laughed easily. "I don't see that happening any time soon."

"If you say so. Be careful out in that rain."

"I will," the military man answered and turned away as the older man gave a small wave and shut the door. The dark-haired man took a step, then stopped suddenly when he saw Ed staring at him.

The two locked eyes for several moments before the military man nodded his head slightly and said politely, "Excuse me. I'm sorry for staring, but you reminded me of someone I know and it startled me."

"Roy Mustang..." Ed said quietly, the name sounding foreign on his tongue. It was the last person he would have expected to see in this dream that seemed not to be a dream. The last time he'd seen the man was when they'd been rushing to save Central, something that wouldn't happen for another three years, if the newspaper was to be believed.

The man's eyebrows knit together slightly in confusion as he said, "Yes, that's right." He paused, then asked in an unsure tone, "Do I know you?"

"I suppose," Ed said, and pushed himself away from the wall. Though he'd never grown to be as tall as he'd have liked, Ed noticed that he was only three or so inches shorter than his ex-commanding officer; a small detail, yet one that didn't escape his notice. "My name is Edward Elric," he said simply.

Ed wasn't sure how he would react in such a situation, but he hoped if he was ever faced with it, that he would be able to keep as much self control as Mustang did. To his credit, the colonel's eyes simply widened and he stared at Ed in disbelief. It was much better than shouting or losing control of his senses. But then, this was Roy Mustang, and Ed remembered the man being able to keep his emotions in check most of the time no matter what the situation.

Tucking the box under his arm, Mustang rubbed his eyes, blinked, and looked at Ed again. "Well..." Mustang said blandly. "They say kids grow up fast, but that's a little too fast for me."

Ed smiled and nodded his head. "Fast for you, slow for me," he said.

"I see." Mustang shifted the package and stared closer at Ed, inspecting him as if this were some sort of trick, and for some reason this struck him as a little... childish? No, that wasn't the word, but simply...

Suddenly, Ed thought again about the date he'd seen on the newspaper. He quickly calculated a few things in his head. His younger self was fifteen right now, wherever he was, and that meant Mustang was... twenty-eight... He blinked. That meant that at thirty-four, Ed was six years older than the other man...

He supposed, years ago, he would have gloated over the fact, but he had mellowed a lot over the years, and now he only felt thoughtful. Ed let his eyes move over Mustang's face. The colonel did seem rather young... younger than he remembered, and that was probably why. Twenty-eight just seemed so... well... young...

"I don't think I'll be here very long," Ed said with a small smile at his previous thoughts. "I'm really not sure why I'm here, and it's a long story."

"I have time," Mustang said, eyes still riveted on him.

Ed looked around. "The weather doesn't lend itself to being the type where people idly stand around and chatter."

"You said you won't be here long...?" Mustang asked.

Ed nodded. "That's right; or at least, that's what I believe."

"I see," Mustang murmured thoughtfully, then asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"

Ed raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. Was Mustang offering to take him in? That just seemed so... un-Mustang-like. "No, I don't," Ed responded truthfully.

"Well, you're welcome to stay with me for a few days if you need," the younger man offered slowly, seeming a little unsure with the whole situation, but curious and wanting to know more. Ed studied him thoughtfully for a moment. From what he remembered, Roy Mustang was an arrogant bastard who enjoyed tormenting the hell out of him, but this man...

Ed's eyes narrowed a little. Was this really Roy Mustang? Would the Mustang he knew be so generous and so mild mannered? Or perhaps it had been so long that his memories weren't serving him very well... Perhaps... or maybe his memories couldn't be trusted. After all, he'd only been a kid at the time. But what Ed did know was that he didn't have a place to stay, and right now he was cold and damp...

When Ed nodded, Mustang waved a hand and hurried out into the rain. Bracing himself for the cold torrent, Ed followed after him. They ran for maybe five minutes before the colonel turned and let himself into a large building. When Ed entered, he found himself in a long hallway; the walls lined with doors fixed with numbers.

Ed blinked and wiped the water out of his eyes. It had never occurred to him when he was younger that the colonel might live in an apartment, not in a house. In fact, he'd never thought about it at all.

When they got to the door, Mustang reached up, brushed back his dripping bangs, and ran a hand over his wet face before pulling his keys from his pocket. Unlocking the door, the man let himself inside and beckoned Ed forward. Following after him, Ed shut the door and looked around the small studio apartment as the light was turned on. The apartment itself was old, but it was clean and in good repair. Ed watched as the colonel slipped out of his black overcoat and hung it on a coat rack.

"You can hang your coat up there," Mustang said, indicating the rack.

Ed nodded slowly and slipped his coat off. After hanging it up, he turned, but stopped when he noticed that Mustang was still staring at him. Deciding to try making the situation a little lighter, Ed smiled and put out his hand.

"A little older, and a little taller, but still the same," he said. "But perhaps an introduction is in order anyway."

At this, the colonel shook his head before stepping forward and taking Ed's hand. "Not the same. You're not the same at all." Ed's smile faded at that and they stood there for a moment, hands clasped together, each staring at the other. Finally, Mustang gave his hand a last squeeze and said, "How about something to warm you up? I have tea, coffee..." He paused, then studied Ed for a moment before adding, "Among other things to help warm you up."

Ed smiled faintly and murmured, "I'll take one of the other things."

Mustang nodded and said as he headed to the small kitchen, "Make yourself at home."

Ed waited for a moment, watching the younger man open a cupboard to retrieve two glasses, before wandering to the other part of the apartment. Two large book cases, a small desk with a chair, and a small couch filled the rest of the living space.

He eyed the books and nodded his approval. His fingers itched to pull a few out and read them. It had been so long since he'd read anything on alchemy that wasn't ridiculously simple. The world he'd been living in had such a primitive view on alchemy that it wasn't even worth the time to read the few books written on the subject.

Instead of pulling the books out, Ed refrained and turned his gaze to the desk and couch. The desk was neatly organized, and a couple small picture frames sat near one corner. Curious, Ed moved a little closer. There was a picture of Mustang and Hughes in their younger days, a picture of Mustang's unit, and a small picture of Alphonse, large in the hulking armor, holding a twelve-year-old Ed upside-down by his ankles.

At the last picture, Ed smiled a little. It was hard to believe he'd ever been so young and carefree... His smile faded as a sad and nostalgic feeling washed over him. At the time he hadn't felt carefree, but he had been. Oh, he'd had many more responsibilities and emotional baggage than many children his age, but he'd been young and naïve. He'd believed he could do anything...

He didn't believe that anymore.

A sound beside him made him look up, and he saw Mustang carrying two glasses. When the man saw he had Ed's attention, he offered one of to Ed. Taking the glass, Ed sniffed at it, then took a small sip.

"Thanks," he murmured, then glanced back at the picture. It was odd to think Roy Mustang would have a photo of him and his brother on his desk. He'd always thought the pompous man was only using them for his own gains, but...

He glanced again at Mustang, then shook his head slightly. Thinking back, with the perspective he had now, it was obvious that Mustang had been trying to protect them, doing everything he could to help them, he'd just had his own way of going about it. Ed suddenly felt so ungrateful. This man had made it possible for him, a child, to become a State Alchemist, and yet he'd given the man nothing but grief... Ed wasn't sure that he would have been as patient, nor did he think he would have given a little brat like himself a chance.

"You really are a good man, you know that?" Ed said suddenly, as this realization hit him.

Mustang blinked at the unexpected complement, then said, "Actually, I'm not; but thanks for the thought."

To this, Ed simply shook his head before glancing around the apartment again. "It doesn't seem like there's enough room here for two," he observed.

"There's room," Mustang said, then put his drink on the desk. Walking to the couch, he unlatched something at the bottom, then pulled it out into a bed. "I have work I need to do tonight. Feel free to take the bed."

"You actually work?" Ed said automatically, then felt his cheeks heat. The remark had been extremely childish, one he would have quipped when he was a teenager, but something unacceptable coming from an adult.

The colonel glanced at him then gave a small, humor-filled smirk. "That's right. Not only am I employed by the military, I also work for them as well."

Ed felt his cheeks burn even hotter at that. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was really inappropriate of me to say..."

To this, Mustang's grin faded and was replaced with a look of surprise. Finally he murmured, "Well, it's nice to know you'll eventually learn some manners."

Ed cleared his throat and said, changing the subject, "I don't want to take your bed. I just wouldn't feel right about making you sleep on the floor."

The colonel raised an eyebrow and said mildly, "Who said I'm sleeping on the floor?"

The burning in Ed's cheeks that had just been starting to fade came back with a sudden ferocity. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, before saying uncomfortably, "Ehm... I do like you, Mustang, but I don't think that..."

To this, Mustang's lips pressed together in a way that Ed had seen many times before. It was how the man looked when he was trying not to laugh. "I told you," Mustang said finally. "I have things to work on. I'll do that while you sleep."

Ed's mouth clamped shut. Embarrassed didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling right now. Without another word, he quickly downed the alcohol before walking to the kitchen. He helped himself to another glass, then drank it just as quickly before putting the glass in the sink. When he turned, Mustang was staring at him with a worried frown.

"What?" Ed asked peevishly. Al often gave him that same look, and it frustrated Ed to no end. He knew what it meant, seeing as how he'd seen it most often after his wife had died. That had been a dark time in his life. He'd felt as if the whole world hated him; and, for a time, he hadn't wanted to live in the world at all.

"Nothing..." Mustang murmured, then took a sip of his own drink. Ed frowned suddenly at the way the man had withdrawn. He would have expected snide words back from Mustang, not this quiet, reflective attitude.

Ed wandered back toward the man and said, "Well, alright then, I'm pretty tired; so if you don't mind, I'm going to undress and get some sleep."

"Already?" Mustang asked in surprise. Pulling out his pocket watch, the man looked at it and said, "But it's only..."

"Yes, but I'm tired now," Ed said. He really was tired—exhausted really... He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing outside the bookshop, but it had been quite a while. He'd been tired when he'd arrived at Mustang's apartment; but after the alcohol, he had a nice buzz going and he felt very ready for some sleep.

Unbuttoning his vest, Ed said, "I... obviously don't have any sleepwear with me..." It wasn't that he was asking the man to borrow his pajamas, but if Mustang would prefer him not to sleep in his underwear then he'd need to provide something.

"Sorry," Mustang said. "I'd offer you something, but I don't have anything."

Ed frowned. "Nothing?" he asked. What kind of a person didn't have something to sleep in?

Mustang glanced up at him slowly and said in that flat tone he remembered, "That's right, Full..." A pause. "Edward." Ed cocked his head. The man had stopped himself, but Ed had caught it and he felt slightly amused. It had been a long time since he'd been called 'Fullmetal'.

"Then what do you sleep in?" he asked, then quickly closed his mouth when the man simply stared at him. Well... that certainly answered that question.

Ed stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, and used the restroom before slipping under the covers. While he'd been in the other room, Mustang had moved to his desk and sat down. Taking a small drink, Mustang began shuffling through some papers.

With a yawn, Ed closed his eyes and nestled into the bedding. At first, it felt a little strange knowing that he was sleeping in Roy Mustang's bed. It was just... odd. Besides that, the man's scent was all around him—in the blankets and in the pillow. The oddity didn't prevent him from falling asleep in his exhausted state, though, and soon he wasn't aware of anything.

Ed's body jerked awake at the sound of a ringing telephone. He opened his eyes and blinked a little at the candlelight. He frowned and glanced around, trying to get his bearing. This wasn't his apartment... wasn't his bed... wasn't the smell he was used to... His eyes settled on the man seated at the desk and the memories of being in Amestris settled on him. The rain... the shop... Mustang...

The phone rang again and he watched Mustang pick up the receiver and say mildly, "Hello?"

Just that simple act seemed so odd to Ed. From what he remembered, Mustang had always answered the phone in his office with a strong 'Mustang'. He'd never thought that there might be a difference in the way the man would answer his own personal phone.

There was a moment of silence before the man rubbed at his eyes and said in that same mild voice, "Yes, of course I'll take the call. Put him through." Another moment of silence then, "What do you think you're doing calling at this time of night, Fullmetal?" Ed blinked. Now that was the tone he remembered; that strong commanding tone with the slightly condescending edge.

He watched as Mustang pulled out his pocket watch and click it open before saying, "Of course I was asleep. That's what normal people do this close to midnight." Another pause. "No, I'm not always asleep." Pause. "I'm sure it does seem like a lot of sleep to you. See, people of normal height need more sleep than..."

Mustang pulled the phone away from his ear and set it down on the desk as shouting rang from the receiver. It must have gone on for at least a full minute, in which time Mustang poured himself more alcohol from the bottle on his desk and shuffled quickly through a few folders before picking the phone back up.

"Yes, of course I'm listening to you," Mustang said. Ed tried to feel irritated, but instead he only felt slightly amused. If he were in the colonel's place, Ed probably would have shouted back, hung up, or at least given the kid a stern lecture about telephone politeness.

The colonel shuffled through more papers, then said, "Your report? Oh is that what it was? I thought you were drawing me a picture to put on my fridge."

Ed could hear more ranting from the phone, and again Mustang set the receiver down. After more paper shuffling, Mustang seemed to find what he wanted. Reaching over, the colonel picked something up that Ed couldn't see and...

Ed blinked and leaned up on one elbow.

Glasses?

Mustang wore glasses?

Since when?

Sitting up, Ed glanced at the paper the man was reading and could see that it was a report he had written. When the noise from the phone quieted, Mustang once again picked it up. He nodded before saying, "Of course I remember what was in it."

Ed frowned thoughtfully at the paper in Mustang's hand. Wasn't he supposed to turn the reports into Hakuro? Why did he still have it?

Mustang paused, then grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and started writing. After a moment, he said, "I'm not a supply clerk, Fullmetal. Call the warehouse. They're the ones who issue those things." A pause. "You have a phone book, don't you?" Another pause. "Yes, I could give you the number; but I want to go back to sleep, so I'll let you find it yourself." Pause. "Good night, Fullmetal."

Ed could hear his younger self shouting on the phone as Mustang hung up. Feeling rather irritated that he'd been treated in such a way when he was younger, Ed was about to say something when the colonel picked up the phone again and started dialing.

Mustang sighed heavily as he waited, then in a very professional tone said, "Yes, this is Colonel Roy Mustang. I have a subordinate who will be calling to request some supplies." A pause. "Major Edward Elric." Pause. "Yes, the Fullmetal, that's right." Another pause, and at his angle, Ed could see a little of the small smile that played out on Mustang's face. "That's true. He is a good kid."

Ed felt his earlier irritation deflate as he listened to the colonel talk. He'd always thought that Mustang didn't like him, and that the man was constantly trying to make things hard for him, but...

As Ed listened to the man read off the list, he finally began to understand. Mustang hadn't given him the number so that he could have time to authorize the supplies. Ed was starting to remember this conversation, and he hadn't realized at the time that perhaps he wouldn't have been able to get the supplies on his own. Yet, after the phone call to Mustang, when he'd finally called the warehouse, Ed had felt a sort of pride in being able to do this on his own because he'd been so mad at Mustang...

He'd never known... What other things had Mustang done to help him that he'd never known about?

When Mustang hung up, Ed watched as he tucked the report away into that same folder, and he couldn't help but ask, "Why do you still have that report?"

The colonel jumped a little and turned around in his chair. The surprised look on his face, along with the glasses, only seemed to emphasize how young he was; and, at that moment, Ed really felt his age.

After getting over the initial surprise, Mustang smoothed his face back to its normal, calm composure and said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I couldn't possibly submit those to Hakuro. They're too sloppy, and the man has a hard time reading things in script anyway."

"But..." Ed started.

Turning back toward his desk in that uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, Mustang said, "I submitted typed copies to the general. Don't worry."

Ed grimaced. "You didn't make Hawkeye type them up, did you?" he asked, suddenly feeling bad for the woman.

Mustang turned around a little in his chair and gave Ed a wryly amused look. "Of course not. She's not my secretary. No one sees your reports but Hakuro and me."

"Oh..." Ed muttered, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "I just thought... because she was always bringing work in for you and stuff..."

Mustang was quiet for a moment before saying, "You never really knew what our jobs were, did you?"

Ed opened his mouth, then closed it. No, not really. What he really remembered was that Mustang was often sitting at his desk going over papers and sometimes Hawkeye would come in and deliver stuff to him.

"Hawkeye's job is similar to mine in that she can approve and disapprove requests. She's just another chain in our department. She goes over the less important requests and also looks over the reports from the billing department, which takes care of the money for the upkeep of Central Headquarters itself, meaning the building upkeep, grounds, feeding people, etc."

Mustang took a drink and continued. "She delivers the financial reports to me as well as the more urgent or important requests. I read over those and either approve or deny. We do other things that pertain more to military matters, but that's the basics of our everyday work life."

Ed blinked as he digested that information. It all sounded so... "Boring..." Ed said out loud.

This made Mustang grin and he nodded. "Yes, very. But this way I know everything that is going on. I often read over Hawkeye's forms as well so that I can be more informed. That's part of why she's always bringing in papers for me."

"But... you complained about it a lot," Ed argued, finding it hard to believe that Mustang had given himself more work needlessly.

The colonel turned around and picked up a couple of papers. "You were too young to realize we were bantering with each other. Your perception was off because you didn't understand."

Ed slowly rested his head back down on the pillow and thought about what Mustang had just said. He was right. He hadn't understood; yet, thinking back on the way the older officers talked to each other now, he had no problems seeing it.

Ed gazed at the bottle on Mustang's desk. That hadn't been there when he'd gone to bed...

"You should go back to sleep," Mustang said in a distracted tone.

"What about you?" he asked. He was starting to feel guilty about kicking Mustang out of his bed. The man surely had to be tired...

"I do this all the time," the colonel said with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry."

Ed frowned as it suddenly occurred to him why it had seemed that Mustang was so lazy. If he routinely stayed up so late working, then he must have really needed those naps at work... Ed closed his eyes and pulled the covers up over his shoulders as he tried to get back to sleep.

Good sleep was hard for him to get any more. Since his wife had died, Ed hadn't been able to sleep well at all. Of course, he'd had the same problem after Alphonse had married and moved away—at least until he'd gotten married himself. And he'd had sleep problems when he'd first come to that world, but after getting settled with Alfons, Ed found that he'd slept much better.

Ed opened his eyes to stare at Mustang's back, then closed them again as he thought about the phone conversations. For some odd reason, he felt as though he'd learned more about Roy Mustang in this one night than he had all those years he'd associated with the man...