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Fading sunlight stained the clouds with red and painted the snow-covered upper reaches crimson. In the meadow, banks of lights came on, focused onto the alchemical circle inscribed in the sheet of blue-grey slate. The stone sloped downward from the circle, preventing the diverted stream from overflowing the stone and offering the wind a better chance to scour away winter snows.
The surrounding stream ran faster than ever, routed through rock now instead of soil. The new channel was deeper and wider, carved into the rock in deliberate patterns that took water to the new soldiers' barracks before winding out to protect the approach to the circle -- and hamper an advance from it, if anything came through.
Roy Mustang prowled the upper perimeter, checking the circle one last time to be sure it was perfect. They'd finished drawing it two days ago. Logic suggested that he should have returned to Central to oversee the rebuilding there, but he'd stayed here instead. The troop barracks were well-designed against winter and any attack. The new water channels ran deep enough that the spring snowmelt shouldn't overwhelm them. Gun emplacements, signal tower, and patrol points were designed with alchemy and tactical considerations almost to the point of paranoia. Still, he hadn't left yet.
Lieutenant Ross brought her men back down the hill from evening drill, but she turned left when they turned right. Her sergeant had all the years of experience she didn't and he was there to balance out her strategies with his common sense. He'd see that the men made it to the barracks and handled the remaining evening chores; he'd even make sure there was dinner left for the officers. Which left her free to ask the general not if, but what she needed to know.
She still seemed to be debating how to frame the question when the circle lit up.
The shadowed runes glowed white, bright enough to cast blue shadows on the barracks walls two hundred meters away. Sergeant Webley started snapping orders, his words lost in the noise of troops running for their positions; to anyone who knew him, he sounded unruffled. Ross was closest to the circle, so she ran for the gun emplacement farthest from the barracks. Her men would come around either side to fill in the gaps, but she was the one here and it had to be done. Captain Hawkeye had dropped into position to guard the General, pistol out and pointing at the gate.
Light erupted from the circle, a column pouring upward into the sky, illuminating the grey clouds that threatened snow. Three figures stepped out of it -- a man of average height in the middle, hands behind his back, and two smaller figures, one on either side; one of them was carrying... something.
Roy recognized them just as the column vanished.
His voice carried across the meadow. "Ed! Al!" Any surprise faded swiftly and he snapped out, "Soldiers, hold your fire!"
Edward growled something that sounded like it must be a curse (Roy ignored his name's inclusion in the phrase), and peeled off his cloak. It was too cold for that to make any sense, but Alphonse was doing the same, and the man between them was bound and struggling.
Captain Hawkeye aimed her pistol at their prisoner and cocked it, letting the sound serve as his only warning. "Edward, what is going on?"
Alphonse, poor boy, was blushing brighter and brighter red. "Lieutenant Hawkeye, could you please turn around?"
Edward snapped, "Someone needs to take this bomb first, Al. Lieutenant, he claims it's strong enough to take out all of Central and it might be." He glared at their prisoner. "I swear, if you don't start stripping as soon as we free your hands--"
Ross moved forward immediately. "Do we need to set it off in open ground, General?"
Roy gestured with his hand, the swift, palm-down motion that meant, 'Don't move yet.' Edward had his metal hand on the prisoner's shoulder.
Alphonse had already turned to face the general, but he'd crouched down to start unlacing his shoes. "We had to come back, sir. We were acting as matrices over there, helping any gate form into the right configurations to come to our world. And anything we've brought through from the other world can do the same from here."
That explained both the problem and its necessary solution, succinct and precise as usual from the younger Elric. Roy's chin came up in a swift, sharp motion of comprehension and agreement. "Such as those clothes -- yes, understood, Alphonse. Lieutenant Ross, they'll need clothes and shoes, hot food and drink, blankets." Ross took off for the barracks at a run. "Captain Hawkeye, secure that-- Fullmetal, did your prisoner make the bomb there?"
Ed was busy unlacing his shirt cuffs, but he looked up long enough to level a glare at the prisoner. "No, he carried it over there with him. This is Doctor Huskisson, General. The one who had the sea base? The one whose men never made it home to their families?"
Alphonse looked angry, an expression that sat oddly on his face. "The bomb is how we found him, sir. He was showing it off and we recognized it."
Roy nodded once, remembering precisely how upset Alphonse had been about reporting the heaps of bodies Huskisson had left behind in his experiments. Roy began unbuttoning his coat. "Thank you, Alphonse. Captain Hawkeye, secure the bomb as evidence and start a log for the court proceedings. I want the bomb under three man guard at all times. Sergeant Webley, take custody of the prisoner and strip him to the skin, including jewelry. If Dr. Huskisson gives you any trouble at any time, shoot him. Immediately. I would prefer he stand trial, but I will settle for telling the families their dead have been avenged."
"Yes, sir," Webley said, face and voice neutral and professional. He signaled Corporal Muller, who came forward to secure the prisoner. Beyond them Captain Hawkeye carried the bomb off, three privates falling in behind her at her hand signals.
Once the prisoner was under control and the women were facing the other direction -- and Roy didn't doubt it took both -- Fullmetal sat down to unlace his own shoes. "You closed the gate at Central, didn't you?"
"Yes." Roy frowned, and let it look like he was only studying Edward's newest arm. "That is Miss Rockbell's work; good. Did you think I wouldn't close it?"
"No, sir, we were sure you would," Alphonse answered. "We just weren't sure how soon you could, or how fast time was running here as opposed to there. It was... an interesting world."
Ed snorted. "Sure, that's a word for it." He shed his boots and peeled off the pants, too. He dropped a sheathed knife onto the pile, resigned and rueful. "It would have been nice to keep something from them."
Havoc brought his coat over and wrapped it around Alphonse, disregarding the cold that cut through his tunic and the way his coat came down to the boy's -- no, the man's ankles. "Here, Al, or you'll blush yourself to death. How'd you get back?"
Alphonse slid his arms into the warmth and hastily belted it. "Father Darius and Connor did... something. They weren't alchemists, but they could create interesting gates with lightning." He looked around, fascinated. "A mountain meadow, and gun emplacements, and the guards around the circle. Father Darius was right. He said you'd do it this way."
"What he said was that if it was him, he'd handle it this way." Fullmetal grinned up from the ground as he accepted Roy's coat, challenging and annoying and familiar in it in a way Roy hadn't hoped to see again. "You're not the best general in two worlds, anyway."
Roy only smiled and added that name to the list of questions to ask. "I've learned not to bet against you two coming back, Edward. Sergeant Webley?"
"Almost done, sir. Checking for jewelry." Occasional streaks of blood showed where Huskisson had struggled when Webley cut the clothes off him. The sergeant hadn't stopped however, and now Huskisson was as still as his shivers would allow; the slate was as cold as the clouds above which promised snow very soon now.
One of their faster corporals -- Sangiovese, Mustang knew, but not his first name, and he cursed himself softly for not knowing details on every man and woman assigned here -- came back with slippers and too-large pants. Warm, however, and neither Elric complained. Nothing unusual from Alphonse, but worrying from Edward. Slippers and a blanket were enough for Huskisson, who'd finally passed Sergeant Webley's inspection.
Alphonse set a pair of gloves painted with alchemical circles for fire on top of the pile and weighted them down with a knife that matched Edward's. Presents, Roy thought, and they both regretted losing them. Interesting in a pair who usually mourned only the loss of knowledge or people. "That's it, General."
Roy nodded, snapped his fingers, and set the pile burning on the slate. Some of it was plant fiber, which caught easily; some of it was wool, damp from the snow, and more resistant. Roy cracked stream-water into hydrogen and oxygen to fuel a still hotter fire, spinning the elements faster and tighter until even the knives melted to drops, then dust, then nothing at all on slate cracked by heat and popping as it cooled again.
The Elrics stood watching, although they'd waved back Sergeant Webley and his prisoner. At least Edward wasn't critiquing Mustang's technique. Odd, that. Another concern to add to the list.
Roy filed those worries away for later and asked about the one that could be handled now. "If you could smooth the surface again tomorrow, Fullmetal? You have a finer touch for rock."
Ed nodded without making any sarcastic comments about specialist alchemists; Roy raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice. "Edward. Are you all right?"
Fullmetal looked up at him, some of the old sarcasm back. "Of course not, but I will be. We will be." He shivered -- not from the cold, or from hunger, although Roy was sure both were a problem -- then straightened up, pulling certainty up through his spine and dignity around his shoulders. Once properly upright, he brought his palms together in the motion Roy would always associate with him and bowed to the rock.
The surface rippled like water, then fell still again without a trace of cracks or faults from the heat. Roy opened his mouth to say thank you and shut it again as the ripples moved away, shifting the lines of water with them. Rock parted like sand shaped by an invisible finger and a new circle formed: the pattern from Liore, Roy realized, and watched, interested, as Ed recreated it from memory, intent as ever on his alchemy, but also exultant. Triumph burned under his skin as power burned through the ground, and he didn't even growl when Alphonse murmured a correction beside him.
Alphonse shaped and raised a platform for one more gunmount to help cover the enlarged area, smoothed a path up to the top for the soldiers who'd be on guard, graded the ground in front of it to channel water into the streams. In the process -- and not at all incidentally, Roy suspected, intrigued -- he eliminated any shadows attackers could use for cover.
Alphonse only looked satisfied with a job well done. Fullmetal looked simultaneously relaxed and relieved. Their time away had changed them, or his view of them, or perhaps both, Roy suspected. They were still young, yes, but men now rather than boys. Strong enough to shoulder their responsibilities, and wise enough now to balance those duties more easily. They also looked tired and beyond glad to be home. Something in the world here poured through them like wine, color and strength coming back to them even in the bitter cold.
The other world lacked several things, apparently. "Like trying to grow roses without mulch," Roy muttered and had the pleasure of seeing Edward snag the comment to worry at its meaning while Alphonse just smiled tiredly and nodded.
Roy saw Sergeant Webley waiting twenty meters back and waved him and his prisoner on. "Three man guard on him at all times, Sergeant. Relay the shoot if necessary order, and keep him away from both his bomb and anything he can use to write an alchemical circle. Edward, Alphonse, come in and get warm." The plume of smoke from the officers' quarters had thickened, he saw; food would be waiting, and what was the good of being the Flame Alchemist if you couldn't heat water for baths?
Snow began to fall as they walked, sparkling in the Elrics' hair. Their conversation sparked around Roy, sharp with wit and mock-annoyance and humor as ever. Names he'd have to ask them about: Professor Haufhausser and Herr Lang, Noah and Connor, the General and Father Darius.
Roy waved them inside, into heat and light and comfort, the smell of a fire and food and the cleaning compound Hawkeye used nightly on her guns. Over the last years, these had become the smells of home for Roy and, he suspected, for the Elric brothers as well.
"It's good to have you both back," Roy said quietly, not shading it with layers of meanings or implications beyond the obvious. He thought he hadn't, in any case, but Alphonse smiled at him and went to beg more clothes from Lieutenant Havoc --or at least better-fitting ones.
Leaving Roy alone with Edward, in front of a fire less bright than his eyes.
Roy smiled despite himself, felt it widen at Edward's own spreading grin, and said quietly, "I'm glad you're home, Edward."
Fullmetal just nodded, joy burning in him from the bounce in his step up to the light in his eyes and the glints of firelight off his hair. "So am I." He grinned, sudden and wicked, and the raise of an eyebrow and the tone of his voice suggested privacy might be a good idea as Edward promised, "I've learned some new tricks to show you. But you'll like them."
Roy laughed then, feeling the last cold from the war melting away in fire and something that felt surprisingly like joy. "Yes." He grinned at Edward, quite sure the color in his cheeks didn't come from embarrassment or wind-burn. "I imagine I will."
~~~finis~~~
Comments, Commentary, & Miscellanea:
Not sure any comments are needed on a fic this short! If I missed something, though, feel free to ask.