The Value of Perspective

Part 5 from Bragging Rights and Other Stories

Chapter 3: A Mouse

By the time Edward finishes his report, Roy is green in the face as well.

"He was just talking to her - or at her, anyway - saying how everything would be okay in the end. He was so sure… sounded so matter-of-fact about how life was going to be easier on them after. It was like he was explaining why the sky was blue." Ed swallows, grimacing at the memory.

"He promised they'd play later, if she wanted - and Nina was slumped there the whole time. I don't think… I hope - I hope she didn't actually hear him? I'm not sure what he gave her exactly. It can't be too strong, otherwise the chemicals in the sedative might have interfered with the transmutation, but she's so small. A sip off of a mild draft would be enough to make her drowsy…" He puts in thoughtfully.

Roy nods silently for him to continue even as Ed shakes himself out of his internal musings.

"Anyway; Nina was passed out in the middle of the array with the dog, bleeding out. We came in, me and Al, and I went to pull Nina out while Al restrained Tucker."

The teenager slumps dejectedly in his chair.

"I closed up the cut on her arm, but it's probably gonna scar. Healing charms really aren't my best work, and it was pretty deep to begin with, so I couldn't just bind it up and wait. I -" He swallows, looking pained, "There wasn't anything I could do for Alexander - the dog, sorry. Nina's gonna be pretty upset when she finds out he's gone."

They both grimace at that, and Roy redirects the conversation.

"Where is Shou Tucker right now?" Roy asks. Ed sucks angrily on the inside of his cheek. His eyes meet Roy's hard and furious.

"Bastard's still at the house." He answers sullenly. "We knocked him out and tied him up in the lab. He won't be waking up for a while."

The Colonel nods once more and leans back in his chair, attempting to sort out how best to handle this debacle from here on. Exhausted, Ed folds his arms on the table top to rest his chin. He doesn't bother to lift his head when his C.O. speaks again, only glances tiredly up at the man through his bangs.

"Why did you come here, to the house? Instead of calling command or the M.P.'s?" He asks, curious.

Edward blinks up at him, truly bewildered by the question, and actually sits up properly to answer him.

"Well, because they could've taken Nina away to who only knows where. 'Sides, it's safe here…" Roy does not miss the flicker of aureate gaze that glances towards the back door of the kitchen, then to the single lit candle in the window next to it, before coming to rest again on the Colonel. He sets aside any thoughts on that for later, however.

"And anyways," Ed continues, "You're good about keeping people who should be safe out of things, you know? And you still get shit done. Eventually."

Roy tries not to flinch at that, and determinedly puts aside any thoughts about exactly who and how many people he wishes he'd 'kept out of things' for later as well. Instead he snorts.

"Fair enough, I suppose." Roy even appreciates the not-quite compliment. Even if Edward's tone suggests that the man is a moron for not already knowing this. On to the next pressing question.

"How did you come to be suspicious of Tucker anyway? What tipped you off?"

Ed stiffens in his chair and looks off to the side, suddenly uncomfortable.

"It's stupid. You're gonna laugh." He mutters, still not looking at his C.O.

Roy attempts to catch Ed's eye; failing that, he sighs.

"You kidnapped a little girl to safety when there likely would have been no chance of saving her in time otherwise." He points out solemnly. "My disbelief is officially suspended for the moment. I promise not to laugh, no matter how absurd your reasoning sounds." He folds his hands together on the table and leans forward.

Edward ducks his head a bit, fringe slipping down over his eyes as he mumbles out a reply so indistinct even Alphonse would be hard-pressed to make heads or tails of it. Roy glares.

"You know it doesn't count when I can't even hear you."

Ed slumps in his chair and crosses his arms as he continues to avoid direct eye contact. He does speak up, though.

"I saw something in his eyes."

Roy does blink at the admission, but doesn't laugh.

"How do you mean? Can you describe what you saw?" His tone bears no trace of humor, only professional curiosity. When Ed finally peers up at the man, squinting suspiciously at his face, he finds nothing there that would set off his ire. No hint of disbelief or smug amusement crosses the Colonel's features. He answers carefully, still attempting to make sense of the event himself.

"Just… for a moment, a day ago. It was odd - we made eye contact and suddenly there was something in it? Not thoughts or really even images, but…" The teenager begins to gnaw on his thumb while considering his words, and his tone becomes distant.

"The feeling snapped into place suddenly, but was gone again as fast. Everything felt grey. It was… like dust slipping between my fingers: I felt like everything was suddenly out of my control. My mouth was full of ash and I was going to choke on it. Tucker was hollow and cold. Then everything was normal again when the bastard looked away." Ed trailed off once more, still ruminating.

"I don't think he noticed when," he waved his hand for lack of description, "whatever-that-was, happened. I think he would have been visibly angry otherwise, but after, we didn't really see him around the house for the rest of the day. And then when it was starting to get close to dinner and we didn't see Nina or Alexander around either, we started to look." Ed shrugs.

Roy tilts his head back as he considers his subordinate's story, absently gazing at the exposed beams of the kitchen ceiling.

"Huh."

"What d'you mean, 'huh'?" Ed asks sharply.

"I think… I have an idea, actually. I'll need to check one or two sources first to be sure though." He looks Edward in the eye. "For now, keep what you've told me to yourself. Or between yourself and your brother, if you must. I believe I have an answer, however. We'll come back to that at a later time when I'm certain." Roy's thoughts are settled on a very specific, not entirely legal, tome that is locked away in a private cache beneath the floorboards of his study. Whether or not he really wants to be the poor sod who elects to teach that particular arte to Edward Elric, of all people… If he's right though, the brat will require basic instruction - if only to prevent the stray thoughts of other people from becoming intrusive in the future.

Perhaps Albus can be roped into teaching him instead. Well - another problem, another day. For now, he would rather address the last (and to Roy's mind, the most glaring) issue.

"You still haven't told me everything, Edward."

Ed's expression, which was already warring between skepticism and exasperation at not getting more of an explanation, blossoms into mulishness.

"What the hell am I supposed to have left out, exactly? I've told you everything that happened!"

Lips pursed, Roy taps one finger against the corner of his own left eye, staring at Ed pointedly.

"The black eye, Edward. How did you come by that?"

The teenager blinks bemusedly back at his C.O.

"What?" He raises the heel of his flesh and blood hand and gingerly presses it against the tender bruising. Ed winces, looking genuinely surprised at his own discomfort.

"Huh," he murmurs, more to himself than to Roy, "Tucker did start throwing shit at me before Al grabbed him. I didn't think the asshole clocked me that hard." He shrugs, wholly unconcerned over the matter. "Oh well. How bad's it look, anyway?"

Roy's lips are pinched so tightly together they've gone white. He cannot say whether in disapproval of the boy's lack of regard or with Tucker - or because his tongue is just waiting to loose a poorly-timed remark about very short prize fights his brain is sensible enough to reign in. In the end all that escapes him is a huff of exasperated laughter. Running one hand through his disheveled hair, the man turns halfway around in his seat, murmurs a spell as he twists his wand in a summoning gesture, and finally replies.

"It looks like that eye should hurt a fair bit more than it apparently does to you. Honestly - how you are able to do more than squint out of that eye right now is beyond me."

Ed only smirks tiredly and shrugs again. A squat little jar sails into the kitchen; Roy catches it and immediately slides it across the table to his wayward charge.

"Go ahead and dab that on, then. It'll bring down the swelling a bit - there's no need to frighten that poor girl with your dreadful shiner in the morning."

Ed opens the jar and his nose wrinkles as he inhales the sharp, astringent odor. Even so, a wistful smile flits at the corner of his mouth while examining the green paste.

"Guess bruise balm's the same wherever you go, huh?" He continues to stare into the jar cupped between his palms. Roy's brow ticks up in irritation when it seems as if Ed is going to continue woolgathering and eventually he clears his throat. Loudly.

"Yes, well. Be that as it may - even you, Edward, cannot spread bruise balm on your face just by staring at it. Stop dawdling."

Ed's eyes flicker up briefly before finding his hands again with interest. He huffs out a breath.

"You sound like Mum, you know?" He bites his lip, curling in on himself a bit. "Roy…" Ed begins slowly, "The whole time we were bringing Nina back ho-here, with us, I thought 'what if?'. What if - if we hadn't gotten there in time? Hadn't realized something was wrong? If he'd done the transmutation - I just. I've been wondering, is all. I don't know what I would've done if he had succeeded, 'ya know?" Ed looks sick with the admission.

"And that's just so wrong, but what if I couldn't just let it be? I mean - how could I not want to - to help her?! But thinking about it, I don't know how long that would have taken, and… yeah. Anyway." Ed looks Roy in the eyes suddenly, pale and desolate but determined regardless.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said some of the things I did. Before. S'all." He shrugs uncomfortably and looks away after saying his piece, still fumbling with that bloody jar. All this teenaged shrugging would make Roy despair if he didn't think the boy would grow out of it some day (a day which cannot come too soon). He's sure he wasn't so prone to shrugging at that age, but the one time he brought the point up to Riza was also the one time she'd laughed herself out of the office. He hasn't made mention of it since. Roy breathes out slowly through his nose.

"Well," he begins, suddenly dragging his own chair closer to Edward, "You weren't exactly wrong, at the time. But - thank you, all the same. Now -" he reaches over and plucks the jar out from between Ed's fiddling fingers. "Give me that. Look up at the ceiling, please. I want to apply this properly."

Ed makes a disgruntled noise of surprise, but tilts his head back obligingly enough. Roy can hear the eye roll in his voice though as he works the paste gently into the bruise.

"I can put that stuff on myself, you know."

"You're slower than a turtle." Roy quips genially. "If I'd waited for you to put it on yourself your eye would have healed on its' own before you ever twitched your fingers."

Ed grumbles a bit more, but aside from wrinkling his nose a bit at the smell, he is patient and still as Roy's hand continues to work the cool balm around the eye and up one side of the teenager's cheek and nose.

"We can never know how hypotheticals will turn out." Roy remarks casually as he works. "That's why theoretical work is so frustrating, of course. Having you and Alphonse under my roof for some length of time, I think I can safely say that Shou Tucker's apparent misdeeds are not either you or your brother's brand of idiocy."

He pulls his hand away, finishing just as Ed sits forward, startled. Roy ignores Edward's wide-eyed look as he sets the re-capped jar on the table and stands to wash his hands off at the sink.

"I trust you can keep from rubbing at your face for the next ten minutes?" He calls over one shoulder while running the faucet. Ed snorts.

"Jeez, what are you, some kind of medium now? Gonna keep channeling my mother from beyond the gate for the rest of the night then?"

Roy smirks back, drying his hands on an old tea towel slung over the worn side of the sink basin that's seen better days.

"Mind your manners, young man."

Edward sticks his tongue out in lieu of reply. Upon glancing at the clock on the wall the Colonel's smirk evaporates in favor of a wince. Not only is it late, but nearly an hour has passed since they came into the kitchen for their conversation.

"You should make that hot chocolate you promised. It's long overdue." He dispells the silencing charm he'd thrown up earlier with a sharp flick of his wand. Edward swears to himself after catching sight of the time as well, striding over to the cooker and the pile of supplies and ingredients he'd abandoned on the counter.

"I have some phone calls to make. You go back to the sitting room and keep the child occupied. I want the two of you to stay with Nina even after I've left for the office. There's a doctor willing to make house calls that I trust; I'll have him over to take a look at the girl."

Edward doesn't turn from the cooker as he asks quietly, "What are you going to do with Nina?"

"Not giving her back to that mad idiot for damn certain…" Roy mutters lowly to himself. Louder, he replies, "She's safe here, as you yourself pointed out. I mean it, though - none of you is to set one foot outside this house after I leave for the day. Consider this your next assignment detail: Do not let anyone in who isn't from my office or isn't someone you know is already welcome, like Maes."

Edward makes a noise of frustration as he turns off the hob and pours scalded milk over the chocolate to melt. He looks over at Roy with an irritated glare.

"That's not what I meant and you know it you bastard."

Roy sighs tiredly.

"I do know what you meant. But other than keeping her away from her father in the short-term, I'm not sure what I can promise. Should the worst occur, I have an acquaintance outside of Amestris that I will see her safely to." Roy puts in quietly, nodding to himself.

"Yes. Yes I can promise that, at least. If it comes to it."

Edward examines the man's expression carefully. He turns back to the counter to prepare a tray for the drinks.

"That's alright then."

As it turned out, the care and keeping of two extremely intelligent, extremely clever, budding teenagers required more mental fortitude than Roy had anticipated.

If not for Gracia, whom Roy had grown quite fond of (the woman sported a very dry sense of humor and, if nothing else, his admiration for her reservoir of patience grew by the day), he would have wished on Maes Hughes the return of each and every explosion, 'oops', and 'Brother, no!' the day Harry turned eleven.

Every. Single One. With interest.

Oh - to dream…

It wasn't that the boys were suddenly terrible houseguests; they were still very careful about taking only what they needed or thought they could afford to replace. Roy still noticed small repairs or helpful additions to his home. No. The problem now lay in having to find some sort of common ground between the three of them that wasn't just work.

Roy had, at first, thought that the distant and indirect manner in which they'd interacted before the exams was best. However, trying to be as formal with Edward and Alphonse at home as he was at work only seemed to put all three of them on edge as time passed. Roy had never before felt so stiff and ill at ease in his own home.

Not only that, but the increasing crashes, bumps and bangs which emanated (mostly) from the boy's rooms were slowly overtaking the relative quiet that he had been accustomed to. He'd tried ignoring whatever it was they were working on whenever they were in residence, but doing so eventually backfired the night the Colonel noticed a new fixture in the hallway.

"Are either of you going to explain why the arms of the chandelier are sculpted like angry bats?" Roy inquired irritably while serving himself some of the chicken curry he'd brought from the shop down the block.

Al, who was reading at the kitchen table, looked up at his question and leaned back in his chair to peer down the hallway. Ed didn't even bother to look up from his place at the table as he answered, eyes still on a sheaf of notes and spearing his own bite of chicken with his fork.

"I have no idea what you're ta-"

"Brother," Alphonse hissed over him, "You said you'd fix it!"

"I assure you, Major Elric, that wrought iron bats leering over any guests in the front hall with red crystals that I only assume are meant to be blood dripping from their mouths is not original to the brass hardware."

"Well maybe you should get your eyes checked." Ed interrupted. "You're old enough you probably need glasses now, right?" Roy felt a vein in his temple twitch.

"Brother!" Al sputtered, scandalized.

"May I remind you, Fullmetal, that brass is not black-"

"Colorblind, then. Apologies." Edward needled back, smirking.

The argument nearly devolved into a shouting match until Roy finally hit on a point:

"It will frighten Elisia the next time the Hughes's visit."

Upon a moment's consideration, Edward grumbled out a grudging admittance ("fine.") and stomped out of the room. There was a sharp, swift clap and a bit of alchemical light which reflected off of the walls from down the hallway which signaled the quick return of a much more tasteful ("it's so boring.") chandelier. Roy never did find out what had happened that necessitated a repaired chandelier in the first place. However, these sorts of hiccups were becoming too frequent for anyone's liking.

So it was that after the first unsteady month of cohabitation, the three of them had tacitly agreed on a couple of ground rules.

In the spirit of peaceful cooperation, the most important house rule was that, at the end of the day - work remained at work. By mutual agreement, the use of first names (or nicknames, in the case of the boys) at home, and reserving professional titles and formalities for use in public and at work, had smoothed away some of the tension. And, while Edward and Roy himself (though he would not admit to it) were both prone to resentfulness and petty sniping, they could mostly agree to leave their disagreements in the office come five o'clock.

In the interest of preserving a modicum of comfort and domestic bliss, the second rule was nearly as important. Experimental science, experimental alchemy, and experimental magic were now relegated to the basement lab. The house was still being paid for after all; therefore, anything that could potentially level the city block on which they resided ought to be done in a properly warded space or not at all, thank you very much.

This wasn't to say that some combination of magic, alchemy or science wasn't permitted around the rest of the house. Repaired furniture, the occasional levitating book whizzing past, and color-changing charms (the sofa was never going to be the same color as when he'd first purchased it) were regular occurrences. Only the truly unusual, unfamiliar or dangerous was relegated to the basement lab.

"Don't move!"

Of course, things which started out in the basement did not always remain there.

"He can move if he wants to!" Edward hollered from somewhere near the bedrooms.

Roy sighed. The man had been shut up in his study for most of the morning. On a Saturday, no less. He'd just opened the door and had taken perhaps three steps out of it when Alphonse had called out the warning.

He cleared his throat to shout out as well, spiteful thoughts of neighbors who might have had a lie in not withstanding.

"Can I at least -"

"No! Please stay where you are!" Al shouted over Roy's question. By the sounds of it, the boy was somewhere near the downstairs toilet. Of course, Edward couldn't help himself and argued back, voice full of mischief.

"He can do what he likes, Al!"

"Oh good." Roy grumbled to himself, squeezing the bridge of his nose with one hand. Judging by the goading tone of Ed's voice, Al was likely entirely responsible for whatever it was that had gotten loose in the home. The brat wouldn't be nearly so gleeful otherwise. Nevertheless, Roy elected to stay exactly where he was. This sort of mess was not nearly as uncommon an occurrence as he would like. The poor Colonel did not dare shut himself back up in his study, much as he was tempted to - not after last time when an over-enchanted fountain pen had snuck in past his foot, at least.

the sudden absence of noise brought Roy out of his thoughts none too soon. An unholy shriek that was followed by a heavy clatter of quick footsteps was his only proper warning. He braced himself with one hand on the doorjamb and craned his neck to look around the corner of the hallway. Roy finally caught a glimpse of… something.

Black as coal, squat, nearly spherical, and sporting two pointy ears, it raced down the hall towards him on four stumpy legs. The construct opened a mouth to shriek once more, a gout of steam erupting from its tail - at which point Roy realized the thing was formerly some manner of teapot.

Not sure whether the creature meant to attack him or not, the man released his wand from its holster. Before he'd even thrown up a shield, Alphonse came barreling around the corner as well. The boy launched himself at the not-teapot when the thing put on a burst of speed, and fell on the creature in a noisy heap. They rolled together before finally coming to a stop just beyond the study door where Roy still stood ready.

"Al!" Ed called out as he came tripping down the hall just when his younger brother righted himself with the construct now grasped safely between his gauntlets. It let out a pitiful, mewling sort of whistle at having been caught. The Colonel realized then:

"Is that supposed to be a cat?" He asked, exasperated.

Al wilted into a pout even as Ed burst out laughing.

"Shut up, Ed!" Al hissed. The squat little cat seemed to agree with Alphonse and hissed steam in displeasure. To Roy, he replied, "One of the books we read downstairs cites object alliteration as an easier method for first-time transfigurative casting. I just wanted to try it - so I thought 'kettle-to-kitten' might be a good one to start out with, sir."

Ed snorted. "You just wanted to make a cat, you mean." Al pouted a bit more at that, but when he held the kettle-cum-cat out to his brother, Ed barely rolled his eyes when he reached to take the thing so that Alphonse could stand and straighten his armor out properly. Roy examined the awkward little construct more closely as Ed returned it to his brother, mildly amused that it began to rattle and emit tiny puffs of steam as it settled into the boy's arms - no doubt a purr.

Not until after the boys had shuffled off back down to the lab did Roy's mind catch up to the fact that an eleven-year-old boy had attempted a more than halfway successful inanimate-to-animate transfiguration based on the advise of a book he'd read the night before. A rather large transfiguration, as it happened. Much more complex than insects or turtles, as was common for his age group in formal schooling.

It was with a sinking feeling that Roy realized he was actually going to have to write to Albus for advice. Infuriating he may be, but Albus Dumbledore was a brilliant, accomplished academic who was accustomed to dealing with teenagers on the regular. A fact Riza had not-so-subtly hinted at on more than one occasion.

Most magical study in Amestris was informal. Any knowledge gained beyond basic concepts taught during summer sessions to young magical children was either taught at home or acquired through self-study. Amestrians in general were a pragmatic lot; they took a rather dim view of any branch of study which did not have a suitably practical application. Thus, even the basics that were taught had been pared down to the most useful or necessary of skills: potions, charms, healing.

And of course, alchemy.

Tricia Elric, apparently a talented local herbalist in her own right, had nevertheless subscribed to the same philosophy as the majority of magical Amestrians. Why fuss with spells when there was a simple and more practical solution to a problem?

And, for all that Van Hoenheim (from what little information Maes had so far managed to scrape up) was purported to be well-traveled and educated, the man had dedicated astonishingly little shelf space to practical spell-work, beyond a handful of texts on theory or basic wand use.

And yet. Even with so spotty an education these two boys had the potential to outstrip even some of Edward's commissioned peers. By sheer dint of not knowing that attempting to transfigure a teakettle into a kitten shouldn't be possible until the caster had more than one morning's worth of practice under their belt… It was astonishing that Alphonse had managed it so well. Good grief - Roy was almost afraid to ask how they'd managed to charm their suitcase all those months ago.

And… what use was it, to be one more person telling them that something was impossible? Roy wanted to foster that brilliance - given the proper nourishment, the Elrics just might find a creative solution to their predicament (might be well shod of the Amestrian military) that much sooner.

Roy groaned and walked right back into the study he'd had no intention of entering again for the rest of the weekend.

He had a letter to write.