Resembool, 1910

"So, what brings important military folk such as yourselves to our sleepy little Resembool?"

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang reached into his interior coat pocket and produced a sheet of paper folded so crisply the creases were beginning to grow soft and frayed. He unfolded it, having already memorized its contents, and said, "We've heard reports of two brothers with a talent for alchemy. We thought it was time to come and meet them ourselves."

"I see," said the elderly coachman driver their horse-drawn wagon. "Scouting new recruits for the state alchemy program, hm? But why send an officer all the way from East HQ?"

Roy shrugged tiredly. "It's part of my job." Then, more to himself, "With all the losses we've taken during the civil war, we need all the new recruits we can get." That was why he, a lieutenant colonel of the Amestrian military, had been sent to some backwater town. Roy understood the military's adamancy for replenishing their supply of state alchemists, especially in such a time of international tensions, though he didn't understand the urgency and desperation to find alchemists now and no matter what. So much so that they were sending officers such as himself all over the country.

He was pulled from his silent complaining by the old driver's soft chuckle. "I can't wait to see the look on those kids' faces when such a high ranking officer shows up at their door."

Roy paused, blinked. It took his mind a prolonged moment to register what his ears had heard. "Kids? Did you say kids?"

"Yessir," the man responded, a smile still on his face as he turned back toward the dirt road.

No. No, that wasn't right. Roy looked at the piece of paper clutched in his hands, reading it over again to make sure, even when he knew he hadn't read it wrong all the times before. "Resembool Village," he read, "Edward Elric, age thirty-one."

"No, sir." The old man shook his head definitively. "He's eleven. His brother is a year younger."

Roy brought the paper closer to his face, as if that would explain this new hitch in their assignment. "What is the meaning of this, Second Lieutenant Hawkeye?" He lowered the paper and looked over at his quiet adjunct.

"It appears to be a typo, sir," she said, voice flat. Anyone who didn't know her as well as him would have missed the wryness in her tone.

The old driver laughed once more, obviously amused by the officers' predicament. "Well, why don't you just meet them before making your decision?"

Roy was about to open his mouth with a rebuttal—bring an eleven year old into the military? Certainly they weren't that desperate—but the wagon came to a halt, and Roy looked up to see they had stopped outside a quaint, white house on a grassy knoll.

The coachman turned around in his seat and gave them a cheeky grin. "I'll wait here until you two are finished."

Roy rolled his eyes and disembarked, the second lieutenant following suit. "These boys better damn well be prodigies for making us come all the way out here." They started up the last of the dirt path, and Roy shoved his hands into his pants pockets, muttering petulantly, "Who is in charge of writing these documents, second lieutenant? Certainly whoever made such an error can't be trusted to work for the government."

"I don't believe you can have someone fired over a grammatical error, sir," Hawkeye replied without missing a beat.

Roy glanced back at her, but she didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she leaned past him and knocked on the home's green, wooden door.

So they were actually going through with this.

Roy would have scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all until he heard the loud stomping of quick feet from the other side of the door. Before he could even think, the door opened.

The officers both had to look down to even see who was there.

In the doorway, hands still poised on the handle, stood a young boy with a mess of blond hair and simple country clothes. He looked up at the two officers standing before him and blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting military officers visiting his home.

"Are you Edward Elric?" Roy asked.

The boy's face dropped, and his eyes—were they actually golden?—widen in equal parts shock and fear. He sputtered before calling out, "M-Mom!" and dashing further back into the interior of the home without another word toward the officers.

Roy glanced at Hawkeye, seeing the same look of concern pinching her features. He didn't wait for her to say anything about the boy's odd behavior before he pushed the door open and stepped into the modest dwelling. The lights were all off in the open home, but the bright country sun filtered in through drawn curtains, giving the space a hazy feeling as though they were stepping into a dream that toed the line of a nightmare. Over the creaking of the floorboards under each step, Roy could hear the sounds of hushed voices coming from down the hall.

He and Hawkeye followed the voices until they came upon a door at the end of the hallway standing slightly ajar. When Roy pushed it open, the voices died out, and three pairs of eyes turned to look. There was Edward, standing at the side of the bed and beside a younger boy who sat kneeling on the floor, facing a woman lying in bed.

Even in the dim lighting, she looked awful. Skin sallow and colorless, chestnut brown hair limp as it splayed across the pillow. Her eyes were half closed, hazy, but when they blinked and looked at Roy, a certain amount of clarity returned to them.

The sickly woman attempted to sit up further to address him, much to the boys' chastising and worried looks.

"I—Apologies for the intrusion," Roy stated. "Mrs. Elric, I presume?"

"Trisha Elric, yes," she replied softly, voice croaking as though she wasn't used to such a task. "How may I help you officers?" Roy could hear the edge in her voice hidden behind the country politeness. She wasn't a fan of the military. Not surprising for folks in the East, especially not in a town so close to Ishval.

Roy stepped further in to the room, causing both boys to huddle closer to their mother in defense. Roy halted, and leaned down slightly, trying to appear less intimidating. "I'm sorry," he addressed Trisha Elric. "This was just a misunderstanding. We came here because we heard of a pair of talented alchemists." He looked to the two boys, so similar, golden hair, golden eyes watching him and Hawkeye warily. "It is part of my duty to scout out alchemists and recruit them into the military program. Our records showed that Edward and Alphonse were skilled alchemists in their early thirties. I see now there may have been a mistake in the files."

"Certainly sounds like a mistake, Mister…."

"Mustang. Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang." He gestured to Riza, still standing silent sentry, silhouetted by the light of the door. "This is my Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye."

"Well, Officer Mustang," she started, much more friendly now. Roy could see the relief flush in all three of their faces when he spoke his intensions. "I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for here. As talented as my sons are, as you can see they are still only boys. They get that talent from my husband. He is an incredibly alchemist, but I'm afraid he isn't here right now. He…isn't very fond of the military either, to say the least." She chuckled softly, and Roy couldn't help a small smile.

"Most people aren't," he responded.

Her polite smile fell, and she sank into the pillows, eye closed and face spent.

Roy wondered what in the world could be wrong with this woman, that a simple conversation would take so much of her energy.

"Mom?" Edward asked softly.

"I'm fine, dear," she murmured, eyes closed and face in discomfort.

"I'm sorry, are you ill?" Roy couldn't help but ask.

Both boys stared up at him, wide eyed. The woman cracked open a pale green eye, mustering the energy to reply, before Edward blurted, "It's just a cold."

The younger one—Alphonse—nodded vigorously. "There's a bug going around town."

"Hm," Roy grunted, unconvinced but unwilling to say otherwise. He knew he was already on thin ice with Eastern citizens. "Alright then. Apologies again for our intrusion. We'll be leaving now." He bid them a quick goodbye and turned for the door.

Hawkeye gave a small bow. "It was nice to meet you three. Please get better soon, Mrs. Elric." She followed after the lieutenant colonel, pulling the bedroom door shut as she did.

Roy could hear their soft conversation starting up again as they maneuvered through the house and out the front door.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" he asked as he firmly shut the front door behind them.

Riza knit her brow and frowned. "Something certainly felt off about that family."

They began down the porch steps, heading back to the wagon and the man still waiting for them. "Off, indeed. There was…it was more than that, though."

"What do you mean?"

What did he mean? Roy couldn't explain it, and certainly didn't want to with the old farmer listening in. Riza wouldn't understand him anyway. Sure, she was familiar with the science, but she wasn't an alchemist. She wouldn't understand the strange vibe that woman gave him. The feeling of taboo in the air that he couldn't place. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew there was more to the Elrics than just a simple family living in a house on a hill.

In the end, Roy just shook his head, and they climbed back onto the wagon. "There's something more going on here. We need to figure it out before the military catches wind."

Riza understood his unspoken words. She nodded in ascent.

"Where to?" the driver asked. "The Burkley's own a wonderful inn that y—"

"Take us into town," Roy ordered. "We need a look at Resembool's public records."

Resembool, for all its charm, certainly wasn't big, or keen on organization. Roy found himself in a dusty, cramped closet they called a library. He sat at the small table, Hawkeye across from him, sifting through all the town's records they could possibly find that could in any way relate to the Elrics. They had come here, unable to trust the military's documents with its typographic errors, but Resembool didn't seemed to have had a bookkeeper for the past twenty years. The files were unorganized, yellowing and unused. He combed through years and years of history, of marriage licenses, forms, and health records. He was beginning to think this search was futile. What was he even expecting to find? Public records wouldn't spell out for him whatever it was the Elrics were up to, but he didn't have any other lead. That family was hiding something, and he wanted to be the one to discover it before the higher-ups had a chance to exploit those boys and their mom. And if it helped boost his career? Well, that was certainly an added benefit.

He was just about to call it a day, and suggest they go to the town's inn until tomorrow's train arrived, when the second lieutenant spoke up for the first time since diving in to the work. "Sir…"

"Yes, Hawkeye, what is it?" He leaned back, rubbing the dust from his tired eyes.

"You'll want to see this."

He heard her slide a sheet of paper toward his side of the desk, and as Roy blinked his eyes open, it took a moment for the document to focus. And when it did, Roy had to blink again, and again, because he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

It was a death certificate.

Trisha Elric.

Year of Death: 1904.

[A/N: idk where i'm going with this, I just really wanted to explore what it would be like if Trisha had been alive during the series, and how that would change the entire course of events. Self-indulgence galore. I want these boys to be happy with their mama. But the plot wouldn't allow that, now would it? lol I usually plan out my stories before writing them, but I'm pretty much winging this one, so yeah, pls be patient with updates.]