Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nothing but pain.

Nothing but flames.

Snap.

White flames.

Snap.

The pain, everywhere, everywhere, as if they were made entirely of it. Only pain.

Snap.

Envy can’t think, can’t breathe. They just take it. Their hearth burns in their rib cages. Their eyes melt onto their face. They can’t think, don’t want to think. They don’t remember what their body is supposed to feel like, what it feels like to not burn.

Snap.

Everything, forgotten. Nothing but pains.

Sometimes, their body falls onto the ground. Their ribs, their bones scraping the tiles, their nerves stretching, their entire body shooting up from mere ashes and they can’t stop healing. Their body is fighting, and reforming, and burning. Nothing to protect. Their stone acts on instinct, a beast within themselves. Their eyes burn, burn, and still, their eyes, their torso, their limbs are reforming, spasming, supplicating. They don’t even run, they don’t even fight.

Snap.

They hate fighting, they are losing but they have to continue. Only for one moment, they think of Father. They are mere feet away from Home, and yet, nothing. Doesn’t he hear? Those horrible screams, the eerie sounds of flames engulfing the corridors. Father isn’t…

Snap.

It HURTS.

They can hear their own screams until even the air within their lungs evaporates and their vocal cords snap. Their last pleas melting within the high-pitched sounds of the flames.

Snap and the whole world melts.

snap snap snap snap

Only white.

Hot.

They are trapped within their skin. Soft. Spotless. Melting. They can smell it burn, melt, crushing their fingers, dripping onto their organs. It feels too soft, too nice, it burns so well! They want Greed’s skin, hard, stubborn and then they remember that carbon burns so well and everything is gone.

Nothing but pain, nothing but flames.

— Finally awake? smiles Mustang.

Envy doesn’t even have time to tell him to go fuck himself. Only time to hear:

— NO!

Snap.

Their eardrums take a few painful seconds to heal, a few seconds of nothing. The soft, squishy parts of their brain form again. First, there is nothing: only white, only this absolute. They don’t even know how many times they died, how long they died. The pain is only an echo, repeating itself within the corridors and their body. They have never suffered to this point and God only knows how many deaths they endured… They don’t even hurt. They just want it to stop. Everything feels heavy. Their breath feels sticky, flooding their lungs. They even wonder for a second if Central didn’t fall on them, crushing every cell of their body.

— Envy? Envy? He is breathing!

— He is mine, Fullmetal. Let me finish this.

— I will not stand there and do nothing. I will not let you do this.

Envy doesn’t die. Envy doesn’t die of shame, crawling onto their original form. Envy doesn’t die from Hawkeye’s shots. Envy doesn’t die from Mustang flames. Envy doesn’t die crushed by Fullmetal. Envy doesn’t even die from their own hands.

— Goodbye, Edward…

Pain floods their tiny body and for one second only, they did it, they are dying, finally and then…

— I will not let you do this! Coward! That’s your solution?

Fullmetal pushed his fingers against their ribs, their teeth. He is not letting them die. In fact, he is almost crushing them, his eyes white from panic.

— Fullmetal, snaps Mustang.

— Shut up! He died enough, no? For fuck’s sake, take a look at yourself!

Hawkeye steps in front of them, her skins and clothes reeking burned powder:

— Edward, we have lost enough time already.

— It’s my responsibility, I… Please. Trust me on this. Please. I know what I am doing. I… I know what I have to do.

— He already escaped once. We can’t afford to…

— Please. He just tried to kill himself, do you really think he is going to… You are right, we don’t have enough time. He will not try anything against us, I promise. And if he does… I will take care of it myself.

Edward Elric doesn’t kill. It’s his only law, its only command, stronger than the laws of equivalent exchange. Yet, in his eyes, Envy sees no doubt.

— Help me with this, please.

Envy doesn’t fight. They always hated it, anyway. They let themselves slide onto Scar’s callous hands, feel every sigh bump of his skin.

— Promise me that you will not… insists Fullmetal.

— You will take care of it, Fullmetal, interrupts Scar You promised. Now, you all, go.

Envy lets others disappear in the warm shadows of the corridors and finally:

— I am responsible for the war in your country. I am the one who shot that girl. I…

— Shut up.

Scar squeezes more, tight enough for their ribs to squeak. Envy groans faintly.

— I knew you to be a coward, but to that point.

— Why are you… tries Envy.

— I don’t want to become like… him. I can’t kill everyone in this country, I will never have proper revenge, I will never be fulfilled… All those people, they killed my friends, my family, my people, and yet, I fight along with them. Yet, they helped me. This has to stop.

— And the law of equivalent exchange? Articles Envy, their hands pressing vainly against Scar’s finger. A life for a life? Mine for…

— You know too well how that doesn’t work. Look at yourself. How many are you in there? How many lives do you have?

One. Only one. The last one.

— We can no longer afford to fight each other. Your creator is the one who is really responsible.

—  I don't kill, Envy whispered.

And it's true. They don't kill. They don't fight. Only when they have to. They would rather send Gluttony or Lust. They claimed it was out of disgust with humans, so much so that they didn't want to get their blood all over his thighs. A lie. One more lie.

—  Answer.

—  Yes, fucking hell, are you happy? Now get it over with.

—  No. I made a promise to the young alchemist.

Envy lets out a contemptuous laugh.

— A promise...

—  Stop it. Stop pretending. Stop, you are naked in front of us. You can't hide anymore. I see your true form. Greed is your brother, right? He doesn't obey Father, this man, anymore. Why can't you? Do you really believe in what he...?

—  Because I don't want to die.

—  Your Father didn't come to save you. He didn't intervene in the North, ever, and he had months to do it. We could use your skills. We need all the forces at work to finish him off.

—  You are wasting your time with me.

— You betrayed yourself, homunculus. The young alchemist has figured you out.

—  Kill me. This is your dream, right?

—  No. This is my mission. I can't take the killing anymore. This country and mine are going to have to be rebuilt when all of this is over. So, make your choice. I can kill you. In an instant. Or I can let you live and keep my promise.

—  You want an apology? You won't get one from...

—  I don't want one. You were following orders. Your theatrics, your sadistic revelry... I don't care. You are like all those soldiers. I blame the generals, I blame the decision-makers, I blame your Father. You are nothing now. So, choose. I have better stuff to do.

—  You're going to stop Father...

—  No, I will not. I will save this country. The country of those who killed my people. The country your people made. So, hurry up!

Envy doesn't bother to answer anymore.

—  I'm going to take you to the dummies, Scar mutters. You might as well make yourself useful.

They remember devouring, until they had enough to reform their body and finally, finally, meet Scar's eyes.

—  I don't care about your excuses. Earn it.

They only remember the details. Greed at their side, his fucking smell of white-hot metal, his evil cackle, the same through centuries. They lived with him long enough to recognize him by the way he walked, by the way, his back muscles' twitched, by the fucking laugh that swallowed everything up.

— What the hell are you doing here?

— Same question, ancestor!

— I'm going to kill Father! I'm going to kill Father and take everything from him!

— He's going to absorb us. He let Pride die like a fucking dog.

— I know! I know, and to think he thought he got rid of me, his greed... I'll take it all away! And you!

They remember leaping from one form to another, swirling around Father. They know him well enough to guess his gestures, his strategies. With Greed, they find the familiar ballet of the battlefield. Greed cashes in, Envy narrowly avoids. They don't want to fight, can't fight. They don't want to kill Father. They just want to get it over with.

They remember the fire, the flames so pure white that they engulfed everything. They remember Hawkeye’s screams, pointing the way to Mustang and their insides twisting with anguish. They are still burning. They feel it. Deep inside him, something is still burning. They remember being scared again and going on only with this certainty: soon it would all be over.

— This power... I would be a god, better than a king of the world! Fuck, finally! My thirst will be satisfied!

They remember running into Edward and stealing his appearance, throwing himself at Father. It was the first time they had stolen his appearance imitated him. For a brief moment, they wonder if this is the body they will die in. Edward's body.

— Watch out!

Edward pushes them out of the alchemist explosion.

Just a moment, there are two of them.

— Do not die. I fucking forbid you!

They remember Father turning to them and whispering, so quietly that they might not have heard him.

— I know it's you, my child.

They remember Alphonse's chopped-up figure. His golden eyes. His golden hair. They would have pictured him more like Edward, surprisingly. The child looks like a corpse finished the heavy certainty of his armor. He smiles, though. He has lost everything that made him powerful, his invincible, tireless, painless body. He has fallen back into a panting envelope, struggling to articulate, lips soft, gestures hasty. People don’t seem to care: all around, they rejoiced, loud enough to kill him with hugs, cheers, laughter.

Envy remains on the ground, breathing in agony. They regenerate with infinite slowness. Not enough to die but enough to suffer. They have blood all over their mouth, all over their face. They don't care.

Under the cheers, there is nothing more. The familiar swarming of the circle of blood has fallen silent. Father, and everything that made him up, is dead.

And yet, they still breathe.

—  You’re really here, then whispers a familiar voice.

The same as Father. The same face. He, however, is not dead.

—  You should have been the most precious thing he had, better than being a god, better than anything... Hohenheim leans in. You are also here because of me. Which one are you?

—  Envy... they gasp, lower than a breath.

—  The fourth. There are only two of you left... And you are the only one who remembers, the only one who knows. You have a duty now... You must warn them.

—  Screw it.

Envy doesn't have the strength to get up anymore. They stare at the sky, ready to let their eyelids burn.

—  Take this, Hohenheim leans in.

They guess without even seeing; a small warm heart, made of thousands of souls. They always got the shittiest jobs.

—  Please. My children don't want them. Take them into yourself.

Hohenheim looks like their father. Envy can't return his gaze; they don't have the right. They simply open their lips and lets the moist, burning liquid flow into their heart. They cough, resists, scratches their neck.

—  There is enough to survive for a long time. My boys... They made me a promise.

They remember Edward's eyes, locked in theirs, and then they pass out. They hope that this time, it will be the final one.

They would not be able to say how many times they died that day.

And then they open their eyes again.

—  Oh, for fuck’s sake…

— He's alive!

Chapter Text

—  Envy! Edward yells, noticing them on the ground.
Envy doesn't even bother to move. No way. No way.
—  You're alive!
Edward suddenly grabs them by their sides, and Envy doesn't think - they strike. Forming a fist with both hands, they slam into Edward's neck, hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground.
—  Are you fucking mental? he yells.
—  I'm not going to let you strangle me like that! Envy threatens through gritted teeth, blood pouring out of their words.
—  Choke you? But no, that was- You're alive!
—  Not for long if you try to break my ribs, you bastard!
—  I wanted to thank you? Edward explains gently. And don't yell too much. The soldiers will think you're still dangerous. And- Err- Thanks- Thanks for fighting with us, even after- You know.
Envy still reeks of burnt flesh. The sparks nibble at their skin. They can feel their organs rolling, every wound, every scratch, every dust, every debris mixed with their blood. Their stone isn't healing fast enough anymore. They are going to have to rest - like an idiot. Envy wishes they could let themself die, like Wrath. They don't even wish for death - just for everything to end.
— So, when are you getting the firing squad?
— What? No! No! You fought with us, you-
— He's right to worry, big brother, Alphonse interrupts.
Envy is startled. The kid has some stamina. He only just got his body back, and there he is, talking - worse, making sense:
— We promised Dad we'd take care of them, but we'll have to come up with a strategy.
— But why- Damn, they owe us that much, don't they?
— He's still a homunculus, him and Selim. And unlike Selim, he still has all his powers and abilities.
— Where's Greed? Envy articulates.
— Dead. I'm sorry.
— I know, I felt it. Thank God! Greed was a pain in the ass. But the guy he was in?
— Greed sacrificed himself. Ling is safe.
— Jerk. And Pride?
— Reverted to his original form. The question is- Does he still have his memories? We promised his mother we'd give him back, but if he is dangerous.-
— His mother? Envy smirks. Pride is the oldest. Centuries and centuries-old.
— Pride is just a baby. I think he understands-
—  Understands what?
—  Father never came to save you.
But Hohenheim did. Hohenheim gave them a stone - no, Hohenheim gave them a piece of himself. Of his blood. Of his souls. Envy feels it, where their heart should be. It is warm, throbbing. It beats stronger than an organ. Edward could hear it, just from where he stands.
— You have two arms, Envy whispers. You have two arms and your brother-
— Didn't you see?
— No, Envy admits softly. I thought I was finally dead. I just heard screaming.

(They heard Edward impale himself against the concrete. They heard his automail shattering, pieces flowing. They heard Alphonse sacrificing himself. They heard Edward scream, almost loud enough to kill them.)

— I knew Ed would come back for me, smiled Alphonse. I trusted him. And here I am.
Envy reaches a hesitant finger toward Edward's arm. They see, now: that arm is thinner, paler. It has none of the light gold of the Elric brothers - inherited from their foreign origins. Nor does it have anything of the muscles forged by effort. No wound. No moles. No texture. A young man's arm, which has never suffered or fought.
— Who did you sacrifice?
— No one, Edward smiles. It's all over.

(And then they felt Father die. But they would rather not think about it.)

— Who killed Father?
— Everyone, Alphonse lies.
Badly. Envy felt it. They felt Edward's blows, the cries of the soldiers, the same cry from a thousand throats. A cry went through them, penetrated them, filled them. The hiccupped, not sure if it was from pain or relief. All together. Enemies joined together. If they had any energy left, they would have found it disgusting. And yet, they felt themself articulate that same cry.
— Even Greed- Even my fucking brother-
— It turned him into coal. It weakened him enough that-
— Father always hated Greed- Suits him well.
— He would have killed you all, absorbed you all.
— That bastard tried to defeat Father, so-
— No, Edward gently contradicted him. He tried to protect us. He died- He died for us.
— What a jerk, Envy mutters. I am the only one left?
— Selim has returned to his original form. He doesn't seem to have any souls left.
— Then kill me. Free the last people of Xerxes.
— No. We promised our father.
He comes to touch Envy's solar plexus, where the stone beats.
— You have some of him now.
— Bullshit. You make me want to die.
— You promised our father, Alphonse stops him. Please-
— Where is the fucker?
— He's gone. He went to die in peace.
— Lucky guy, grins Envy.
— There are only three of us left. Xerxes' children. It's our responsibility too.
— To do what?
— To rebuild this country. To fix the chemistry. To save what can still be.
— Lucky us.

(A whole crowd parades before Alphonse and Edward. They are like gods, their hair shining furiously in the sun, almost white. Envy closes their eyes, listens to their stone beat under their skin, and prays not to wake up again.)

— That's it then? Izumi Curtis approaches.
She reeks of blood and sweat but still holds on. Envy remembers her. They had all felt her transmutation, making her mark on the land. All for a baby. A tiny baby. They would never understand humans.
— Isn't he supposed to be immortal? He looks like a dog run over on the side of the road.
— His stone is worn out, says Edward.
— I'm not going to die, snaps Envy. But I need more time. So, this is your moment-
— Stop it, damn it!
— You promised, Alphonse adds. 
Izumi looks surprised:
— You talk to that monster like that?
— We're getting to know him now, Edward grunts
Izumi lays a military coat on Envy's lap.
— I've seen your clothes change with you, so I assume it's all one body. You're doing alchemy on yourself, aren't you? You must be tired. Can you release some of the pressure under that coat? Would that help?
— Yes, Envy admits.
— Be discreet. Some of the soldiers haven't figured out who you are yet. With the smoke from the cannon and the flames, we couldn't see a thing. But I did saw two Edward, and thank God I know there's only one. It's enough.
They painfully spread it over their limbs and lets their body crumble under the cloth. Already, they are breathing better. Edward adjusts the corners.
— How old are you?
— You don't ask a lady her age, Envy scoffs.
— How old are you? Izumi insists.
— Almost two centuries. Don't act disappointed, I know, I know. I am the middle child. Pride is our oldest, the first, the favorite little one. Four fucking centuries. Anyway- I saw the first locomotive.
Edward and Izumi exchanged a confused look. Envy continues:
— And the electricity, but that's recent-
— Electricity was created in 1890.
— Oh, and I was born when you still had a king. A real one. The old one. Father had him deposed and replaced by the army, but I still remember him. He smelled like shit.
— Do you remember everything?
— Yes? said Envy. What do you think I am? Senile?
— It's okay, insists Edward. We need this. We need to know what his country is really like, his history. We need to know- We need to move forward.
— What? No! Are you going to tell everyone about us and this country's history? Do you want anarchy? Chaos?
— Ed's right, Izumi cut in. We will never get far if we don't admit our faults. Ishval. The invasion of the neighboring countries. The chemistry of this country- We have a lot to change. And then we don't know anything about you.
— And I'm going to be useful for what exactly? Envy mumbles.
— To understand. To understand, at last.

They remember limping across the square, taking advantage of Edward's slower pace to rest on a stone, a step. Soldiers bandaged his ribs, his forehead, but he still bleeds. His movements are dizzy enough. Envy clutches Izumi Curtis's coat, praying that no one will recognize them. They don't have enough energy left to shift, not yet. Existing already costs them too much, and Eddard is walking fast, too fast. They could throw themself at the busy soldiers, at one of the alchemists, or even run to Mustang and let the colonel finish them off. They don't feel like it anymore. They don't want to die.
—  Do you want to see him?
— What's this?
— Pride. I'm the one who- I am sorry, truly.
Envy stares at the tiny being, not understanding. Edward holds him on the folds of his red coat - like a child who hasn't had time to be a fetus.
— It's Pride. My father confirmed that he would live.
That's it, his brother, the most feared of them all. That's all he has left and all he ever was.
— Do you think he'll survive? Edward assures himself.
— Yes. It's his original form. Greed and Lust were created from the stone. They died when it was destroyed. Pride and I have bodies.
— Will he lives, then?
— He's only got one life left. He'll live and die. You didn't save him. You just delayed his death.
— Can he be a child? A normal one?
— Surely. That's what he should have been before Father gave him his powers.
— Why didn't he let him be- be that?
— I don't know, Envy admits. Maybe he wanted to create life. At least, at the beginning. Or at least a baby. He got carried away. Maybe he thought he deserved better than one child- Or seven- Is there really nothing left of Greed?
They immediately regret being so pushy. Edward is quiet - but he could snap at any moment and send them back to Mustang.
— No- But you can see Lin if you want. They are going back to Xing.
Envy seems to hesitate, their eyes fixed on the little being that used to be their brother.
— You don't have to pretend. I know that- I know what it's like to lose a brother. Or a parent.
This sudden pity makes him burn inside. He spits, with all the fury he can muster:
— Your brother is alive, flesh and bone! My siblings are fucking ashes! We are not the fucking same. I am a homunculus!
— Made from two fleshes, made from a stone, Edward corrects gently, pointing his finger at them and then back to himself.
— Why didn't you let me die? Why are you humiliating me? Are you having fun? Torturing me by showing me the corpses of my family? What game are you playing?
Edward has a worried look for the baby. Envy is suddenly desperate to take him and crush him, to get it over with, to be done with it all.
— I made a promise to my dad. We made a promise.
— Lucky us, Envy completes.
As if they had a choice.

Chapter Text

— He's not dead, is he? assures Edward as he approaches the prison.
— He didn't make any attempt. Which is worse. We've increased security.
Lacking a prison that could hold a shapeshifting immortal being, Envy was placed in one of Central's underground tunnels, deep in a pit where chimeras were previously held. It still reeks of the frightened beasts, piss, blood. No effort has been made to clean up. Edward has a backward movement, the smell slapping him in the face. Various alchemists patrol around the pit, their faces hiding behind masks to prevent Envy from turning into one of them or attempting any of their usual manipulations. They don't even speak, to minimize any risk. 
The only face is doctor Marcoh's. He watches, eyes fixed on his alchemy circle. It surrounds Envy in a myriad of lines carved into the ground, which Envy must feel every time he walks, passes, stretches.
— Edward! I heard you made quite a mess at Central.
— Weren't you supposed to go to Ishval?
— I'm being held here, waiting to find a solution. I'm still the only one who knows how to destroy the stones.
— The Fuhrer signed the decree this morning. I am officially in charge of the homunculus.
— Even without your...
He stops, out of caution. The information has not been made public.
— Al still has it, and I know how to handle him, even without it... Can I see him? I know that we're not leaving right away, but...
— I'll have them create the staircase so you can go down into the pit. Just wait here.
— Thank you, doctor.
Edward would have preferred to stay by Alphonse's side, their hands tied so tightly together, but his little brother insisted. Alphonse won't admit it to Edward yet, but his recovery is going to be difficult, painful. He cries in pain with every step. Eating is a pleasure, followed by torment. His parched organs groan with every sip of air, his nerves panic under strokes. It will be months, if not years, before he can walk properly - and he prefers not to think about the rest. He even misses his voice: puberty came on in the early days as if time was making up for lost moments. 
He no longer recognizes himself in the mirror. All these years, he imagined himself as a child. Not a teenager. He did not see himself growing up. He'll tell Edward about it - one day. Not now. Now he needs time. 
Healing alchemists flock to his side, the hospital keeps him under constant vigilance, and he has to fend off reporters, admirers, wondering doctors. Oh, and Alphonse sleeps a lot. Edward lets him. Alphonse has years to catch up on.

(—  It's a bad idea, mumbles Mustang 
— You owe us, Edward argues in vain.
— Oh, I think it's a lovely idea, rejoices Grumman.
He arrived at Central the day before to take over operations and make a smooth transition. 
— Now that our civilian population knows about the homunculi, having him around wouldn't help our business. But to say that the Elric brothers, heroes of Central, are taking care of it and that with their analysis, we're going to advance science? You're taking a problem away from us.)

— There he is...
Envy is sleeping, and it's far more disturbing than anything else. Envy sleeps like a cat – or like a child – curled up in the smallest space possible, face hidden against their limbs. They have stayed that way for hours, not moving. Edward vaguely wonders if they are faking it - just to ease them. Then he remembers that if Envy has nothing to lose, they also have nothing left to gain.
— If he tries anything, you activate the circle, Marcoh orders the other alchemists hidden in the shadows.
—  He's not going to do anything, Edward snaps. All these precautions are useless. You can see he's weakened.
—  He is weakened, the doctor admitted. But he always managed to get back on his feet. He was able to come back here when we had almost destroyed him and... Here he is, after all that. I don't know if it's a sign from God or if...
— God's got other things to do, mumbles Edward.
He knows it, now. An alchemist transmutes a ladder for him, time to descend into the pit. Edward winces as he recognizes the familiar, rancid, almost intestinal smell of Central's tunnels. He walks carefully toward the center of the circle, coming closer until he hears him breathe.
— Fullmetal! cries out Marcoh.
—  I've got it, don't worry, lies Edward, kneeling.
Envy's breath is too ragged.
—  I knew you weren't asleep, he leans in gently, meeting their open eyes.
Envy barely moves but from between their teeth escapes:
—  Try going to sleep with guns and that fucking light pointed at you.
—  I didn't know you could sleep.
—  I'm ashes inside. I need to save some steam.
—  Why don't you get back in shape?
They finally straighten up, unfolding their muscles. Upstairs, alchemists are getting agitated. Edward sees an ounce of hesitation in Envy, a hint of pale concern in their eyes. Edward doesn't back down: he's had enough fights with Envy to know when he's crossing the line. He also knows what someone in pain looks like, teeth clenched, eyebrows furrowed, fists white from being clenched, and, most importantly, in the hollow of his grimace, scarlet flashes.
—  You are still rebuilding yourself from the inside.
—  I told you. I've died too many times.
—  Is Father's death weakening you?
Envy painfully adjusts their position, feet planted in the ground, knees drawn up against their chest. That's where the stone is, Edward recalls. Instinctively, Envy protects this area more than their exposed neck. Edward takes off his coat, the mid-season fabric still fluffy, warm from being worn, and hands it to Envy.
—  Here, this will be more comfortable than the floor.
Envy grabs it and plunges curious hands into the pockets. They pull out a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, some coins. They look disappointed, crumpling up the coat and taking a seat on it. They dance the packet between their fingers, without a word, strangely calm, strangely close. Envy has no smell. No matter how hard Edward concentrates, nothing. Their first form reeked of sweat, blood, digestive juices, but this form emits nothing. Envy gives him an inquisitive look:
—  May I?
—  Careful, he is dangerous! warns Doctor Marcoh.
—  I'm the armed one! Edward snaps, waving the lighter.
From Envy's worried look, he guesses that he was right. Envy doesn't know yet that he's lost his chemistry - unless they can feel it. He pulls a cigarette from the pack, fiddles with the lighter, and, once lit, hands it to Envy. While the homunculus says nothing, they seem to appreciate the gesture and pinches it between their lips.
—  You smoke while you...
—  While I'm still burning? The stone targets the most damage. My lungs are whole. It's my intestines that sting a tad more...
—  I didn't know you could smoke.
—  Bad habit of Lust. Father hated it. Made Pride crazy. Human thing, we're not supposed to like it... It's poison. But our bodies destroy all the toxic stuff you put in. Nicotine is good, though. I need to be calm.
They speak with a low voice, surprisingly monotone. They sound tired, as if on the verge of a sleepless night. Slowed down. No, calm. Edward had never seen them like this, except in Gluttony's belly and out, when they were leading them through the corridors.
—  You don't make it?
—  What?
—  You can transform your body. Doesn't that include this kind of thing? Making nicotine?
Envy prefers to pull on the cigarette, inhaling painfully.
—  So, it starts now, the experiments?
—  No. I'm just asking if you need any medication.
—  Your dosages wouldn't work on me. You guys are putting weird stuff in your bodies...
—  Me and Al will take care of you.
—  Wonderful, mumbles Envy, chewing on the filter of the cigarette.
—  We are getting out of here.
Envy leans in a little closer:
—  And may I ask where?
—  We're going back home to Resembool. It's in the east, in the plains.
—  Never heard of it. I'm a city rat.
—  You are coming with us. We arranged for you to be in our custody and not here. I would never forgive myself for...
—  For what? For letting me be tortured to death? For letting me be burned alive? For not letting me end it the way I wanted to?
—  Didn't I do the right thing? You helped us... And you helped us. When you could have run away, or betrayed or... 
—  Be eaten by my own father? What a great alternative.
—  That's how we get you back. Mustang is convinced that you are trying to manipulate us...
Envy adjusts their stance, their eyes suddenly sharp:
—  If I was manipulating you, you wouldn't suspect a thing.
—  You'll be a prisoner there, but not a lab rat. I'm not... I'm not like them. I've seen too much drift... I can't. Even to you... Especially to you... Al and I made a promise to our dad. All this... It's our responsibility too. Or at least our duty. We'll do better than him, better than them. That includes you.
—  You have two arms, Envy murmured thoughtfully. Who have you sacrificed?
—  My past life.
—  What is this shit supposed to mean?
—  That I'm going home with Al. And you. We're not going to do anything that you...
Envy cuts him off, letting just enough smoke from their mouth:
—  I heard them talking. Their little list of future experiences... If you think I'm going to let my-
—  We're not going to do anything you don't want to do, I'm telling you, for fuck's sake! I saw the list too. Why do you think I'm here? You moron. We've worked together before, right?
—  Yes, admits Envy. In a desperate situation...
—  Like this one. So, either you decide to stay here, in Central, and I can't do anything more... Or you agree to follow us, and you have to promise not to run away or kill anyone.
—  I'm still burning, Envy growls, pointing their cigarette at Edward. If I take one step outside this circle, the torture starts again. He came, you know? The colonel came to see. I don't like pain.
Their voice cracked ever so slightly on the last words. They become agitated, enough for the alchemists to get nervous.
—  I don't want to die, they murmur more softly. Not like this. Not again.

(Not like Lust.)

—  I swear we won't do anything. I swear on my automail, okay? It's technically the most valuable thing I have on me.
—  So, you kept your leg, then, they mumble.
—  As punishment for my past mistake. As a reminder. I got used to it, I think. I didn't break it as much as my arm.
— What a pity... Now, if I try to break your arm, it will take months to heal, not a few hours and some screws.
— It'll cost me less, at least, Edward grumbled. So... You choose. Here, and-
— I'll come along.
— If you resist-
— I'm not that stupid, thanks. I have nothing to lose. Nothing to gain, either but-
Yes, you do. I do. I swear to God... Wait until you get there. Please, please, please. Just trust me.
— Why should I trust you?
— We are of the same blood, the same people, the same history. We are the only ones who can understand. It's not much, but... It's just us.
— Fuck, your shack better has running water.
— We've got the radio, with all the stations, Edward teases after a brief hesitation.
— Attempted bribery, Envy minces. When do we leave? I'm going crazy here.
— Didn't they give you anything to do? You've been here for two weeks already!
— I'll take some pencils.
—  If it's for...
— I can't do alchemy. And I have no interest in pissing them off by writing threats. I'm just bored to death. I've already spent six months in a jar... If you want to stop me from ripping out my stone, that's it.
 Anyone would go crazy, locked in a pit when their whole family has just been wiped out, and the only prospect is repeated deaths.
— I'm going for some paper and pencils and paint. It's for...
— Just drawing. I promise I won't write my will or curse this place.
— Sheets, Edward continues. Pencils. Watercolors. Ink. Would that do?
— Can I keep your coat?
— Yes, yes...
— Too kind, sneers Envy, putting it on. Your brother, is he recovering?
— Al is fine. We'll wait until it's safe for him to move, and then we'll go. Central is not a good place for recovery. Besides, I don't like this town anymore, I don't want to... Do you have any of your stuff here?
— No, I don't. Why would I?
— You've lived here for...
— Two centuries, completes Envy. But no. I don't. It's a human thing, to own stuff... But- I suppose I had a coat.
— The one you were wearing when you fought with Ling?
— Yeah. It's in locker 2, the one with the name William Skrulls.
— I'll go get it, Edward promises.
— Are you trying to buy me off?
— No. I... I can't live with the guilt of all the things I didn't do, all the people I couldn't save... I don't want to have any more regrets. I don't want to end up like my father, haunted by... I want to do better.
—  Does that include sympathizing with the enemy?
— You've lost. There are no more enemies. Just survivors. Your Father and mine- That's our story, both of us, all three of us with Al. I want to do better. I'll do better.
— You're not going to save everyone, Fullmetal.
— The war is over, cuts in Edward. For the first time in centuries, our country is free of Father's influence. There is no more sacrifice, no more transmutation, no more gods, no more- Just us.
Edward is no longer afraid. They are worried. Envy's eyes are too pale, their gestures too soft. Edward had known them only rarely outside of a combat situation: in the belly of Gluttony and, right afterward, when they were guiding them through the corridors of Central. He had never wondered what kind of life the homunculi led, squeezed into this underground. He foolishly imagined that they had an interest in following the plan, that they acted according to their selfish, sadistic will. 
And then Father absorbed Greed. 
And then Pride died, without a glance from his creator.
And then Envy burned, just a few feet from Father.
Edward is not so sure anymore. Edward isn't sure of anything anymore. He's been in the military for years, and a few days ago, he saw it fall. He has seen a corrupt country, a genocide perpetrated by his own friends, bodies deformed by human experiments, soldiers sent to the slaughter for the sake of it, soldiers barely his age, rushing to defend a regime made of their own blood. No, Edward is not sure of anything anymore.
— You need to rest, Fullmetal. You look more tired than I do.

Chapter Text

Envy doesn't move. Curled up in their seat, opposite the two brothers, they pretend to doze. Edward and Alphonse know them too well by now: under their closed eyelids, they can guess their agitation. Envy's body is as tense as a fist, ready to strike and yet, nothing. They could jump out of the moving train. They could make his curled fingers into blades. They could cause mutiny among their bodyguards. They could attack the civilians in the neighboring cars, but nothing, nothing, nothing . 

Edward loses patience as the train passes the quiet suburbs of Central and pinches Envy's wrist. No need for a pulse: Envy dryly slaps his hand.

— I thought that you were going to spare me the handcuffs, they scold while correcting their posture.

—  You look dead when you sleep, Edward barks.

— That's because I am not sleeping.

Envy struggles to regain a sitting position, their nails digging into the soft cushions, clutching at the windowsills. They adjust the folds of their pants, the buttons of their shirt. 

— You've already wrinkled it, Edward notes.

— It's unbearable. You pay a lot of money for something that gets dirty, gets holes, and breaks.

— This is one of my shirts, Edward flusters.

— Is that why it's so small?

Edward shows spectacular self-control, breathing in and out and digging his nails into his palms.

— I am not going to let you get to me.

— What, that's too low for you? giggles Envy.

— You never change.

— I do, as you see, teases Envy.

Convincing Envy to wear human clothes for the trip was a nightmare. Not that people are aware of homunculus, but the Elric brothers want to keep quiet for a bit. Even the soldiers are undercover. Edward and Alphonse are happy not to attract attention, for once. No more armor, no more metal prosthesis. Yet, they seem to forget that they are now national heroes. Envy wonders if the soldiers are not here to protect them from zealot crowds, more than any attack.

— I don't like fronting the back, Envy finally admits. I get nauseous.

— We are almost here.

Envy has never traveled much by train. First, because of their weight. Old carriages used to break around them. They preferred the comfort of running - taking the form of a horse, a dog, and fleeing where humans no longer go. The Elric brothers, on the other hand, seem to love the train. They ease back into habits. Alphonse rests his head against his big brother's shoulder, nodding imperceptibly, only flinching when he slips. Edward observes - no, absorbs - the landscape.

— Are you still burning? Alphonse bends over after a while.

Edward tries to hold him back: his brother is still weak and faints quickly. His perfusion, a second heart beating in its bag, is not enough. Still, Alphonse pushes him away with a smile. He always managed.

— My fingers and my toes. The nerves are still growing, admits Envy between their clenched teeth. It's always the least useful coming last.

— Show me, please, asks Alphonse.

— Are you a healer now?

— No, but my girlfriend, she- Ed, stop! blushes Alphonse.

— Things are official, sneers Edward. Isn't she too young for you?

Alphonse nudges him and turns back to Envy. His hand is thin, with no wounds, no moles, no pimples. That, Envy can understand. They would be unable to point out their own scars: their body remains the same throughout the centuries. Yet, Alphonse is already starting to change. He is gaining cheeks, stomach, thighs especially. His voice is less hesitant. Words sound less like pebbles dancing in his throat. He will have to undergo, for years, medication and physical treatments.

— Please?

Envy relinquishes their hands to him.

— I think I can speed up the work of your stone. It's similar to transmutation, and with Mei, I've learned to mix techniques and- Will you let me?

— It's not like it's going to kill me, shrugs Envy.

— No, but you can be hurt, Alphonse reminds them gently.

— I'm not that close to death. And besides, I might as well get used to being your little lab rat-

— You're not a rat. You're a lizard.

Envy doesn't even strike back but Edward takes their silence as a blow. Deep in their eyes reddened with fatigue, there is no anger, just exhaustion. In the blood-stained white, Edward can almost see sparks.

— Sorry, Edward breathes. That was shitty. And I told you. Al and I are not-

— I could have ended up as an experience too, Alphonse cuts him off. Seeing the inmates and- I don't know how to explain it. But I can't- We can't do that.

— Do you think our master will let us become mad scientists! She would storm our house and beat us to death.

— We have to create a new world. Without souls locked up in armors, objects. Without stone.

— Without homunculi, growls Envy.

— Creating Father was the original sin of our-

Envy doesn't hold back anymore. They burst out with their usual squealing laugh. The soldiers' guns immediately close in on their neck.

— Whatever is going on at Central, it's not up to us, concludes Edward. Al needs to rest, and so do I. My arm isn't- My arm not- I've got a couple of cracked ribs, and- Anyway. You are staying with us.

After the insurrection, the public was given a rather tame explanation. An alchemical experiment, conducted without the knowledge of the government and spurred on by a rebel branch of generals, was narrowly prevented by General Armstrong and Colonel Mustang. Commander Bradley died. His son Selim was a tragic collateral victim. Only the wife survives, and the mother. The culprits are under arrest. The coup leaders were court-martialed unless they lost their lives in the clashes. The soldiers present at the scene agreed to remain silent in exchange for promotions. The commander lost his life defending the people of Central, his men with him. 

Grumman accepted the position of commander. His age, his years of experience, and his deceptive neutrality during the events were key factors. All to ensure a smooth transition. That leaves Armstrong, in the North and Mustang, in the East. Centuries of conspiracy have left their mark on the flesh of Central. Already, Armstrong has begun pouring concrete into its tunnels. It will take years. It runs through the very foundations of the country, its cities, its cemeteries.

Speaking of cemeteries, the ghettos of the Ishvalis have opened their doors. The government is giving them back - under the care of the army. From now on, the refugees are going back. The ruins need rebuilding, the fields planting, the schools, the temples, and the shops.

— Oh, God, there is so much to do. And everything is still tense between us. The refugees are still suspicious. It will take- It will take years, again, for them to trust us again.

— They don't know about us? I mean, about homunculus.

— Mrs. Bradley, most of the generals and officers know, confirmed Edward. We're also going to have to purge our academies and laboratories. Almost everyone, including alchemists like us, were on it.

— We'll have to repair even our alchemy, Alphonse rejoiced. We have Xing's support. On the borders, we have our best men protecting-

— We risk another coup. A civil war. Or an invasion. I prefer we are far from Central when it happens.

It's not just charity. If Mustang made sure to destroy the stones, one remained: deep in Envy. Izumi had offered to take care of it: Dublith had already taken in a homunculus. The Elric brothers refused: it is their responsibility, their heritage. And then, they don't admit it to themselves, but they need it. They need to try something, however small, to repay their father's debts.

— Nothing will happen, Envy finally mumbles.

— What do you know?

— War is kinda my job, remember?

— He’s right, adds Alphonse. The situation is stable for now. At least for a few months.

— They, mumbles Envy.

— What?

— They. Not he. They. You keep using he to refer to me, but it's they.

Edward blushes:

— Oh, fuck. That was obvious now that you- I am sorry.

— Don’t be. We didn’t have time before to chat and exchange pronouns. You were too busy punching me like a maniac. You can use whatever pronouns but I prefer they, them. Now do with that what you will, I am used to-

— They, them, then, Edward cuts, with a faint smile.

Chapter Text

Envy silently blesses Alphonse, all the way to their house. They try to hide their exhausted breath, their clenched fists, their knitted back. They lean against a trunk, a fence, a stone wall. Edward is too focused to recognize their weakness. Fuck, the stone should have healed them by now. At least they can still transform themself. Envy guesses, without admitting it, that their stone is not entirely at fault. There are some things even alchemy cannot cure.

— Al, are you sure you don't need help?

— I don't want help, big brother. I want to get back on my own feet.

Envy would have liked to let the brothers walk together. They suspect that there is way more than a little walk going on. They stay in the background, just enough so that the brothers’ exchanges are whispers to them but that they remain in their fields of vision. At least, they are not the loudest ones. The troop of soldiers is loud enough to signal them to the whole countryside. They wear gloves with Dr. Marcoh's circle on them. Every time Envy grimaces, jokes, or slightly raises his voice, they press against their skull, neck, and back. Edward finally notices their wide eyes and insists that they stay away.

— Anyway, there is no way they are coming to the house, he adds.

— Are you disobeying military orders?

— I'm going to quit, Edward replies curtly.

Envy doesn't insist and Edward returns to Alphonse, watching his every step. Under the threat of the old woman, Pinako, the soldiers are forced to limit themselves to the area around the property. Envy stares at them, fists curled against their chest. They could tolerate a dozen deaths before they perished. Enough to take several with them to hell, but surely not enough to defeat the troop, the brothers… And Pinako.

— You have met Grandma, now… That’s Winry, Edward points at the blond woman on the doorstep.

They knew her without having ever seen her. They move back imperceptibly. Again, they suspect that something tremendous is at stake. A ritual, a promise that is beyond them.

— Go ahead, they grumble. I am not gunning to run away. The pigs are watching me.

Edward doesn't hesitate.

— My life is shit, Envy mumbles to themself.

• They don't want to think about it, but seeing these three kids together, screaming with joy, hugging each other until their bones break - it's killing them. They have no one, nothing. They have no home to come back to. They have no one to understand them, to talk to them, to welcome them. Not that there ever was anyone before.

At least there was Lust's teasing. Gluttony's wet eyes. Greed's sharp teeth. The endless basement hallways. A certain familiarity, if not family. Envy has never had anyone. Envy is jealous as hell - almost dying, anyway.)

— Hi there.

The dog finally gives Envy a bit of his attention. He circles them, sniffs them, perceiving all the souls that are crawling under his skin. Envy has turned into enough animals to feel, if not a camaraderie, a familiarity with these beasts that no one wants. Envy cheats a little, changing their smell just to make it pleasant. The dog goes crazy, licking their hands. The Elric brothers give them a surprised smile. There is no small victory. 

— Let's go home, come on! yells Edward.

— I don't think this is a good idea.

Alphonse is already climbing the steps to the house, supported by Winry.

— Her parents died in Ishval, Envy insists to Edward. Do I need to fucking remind you who started this war?

— Winry has forgiven the man who killed her parents. She is close to Mustang, Hawkeye, their entire team, everyone who fought in Ishval. Hawkeye told me, what it was like- I-

— Will there be trials?

— Mustang wants to set up reconciliation committees. Places to gather testimonies, words, emotions and agree on solutions together.

— Nonsense.

— She knows. I explained it to her on the phone. I wanted to give them time to digest. Grandma doesn't mind, but for Winry- I swore to her that you were on our side, now. And anyway, if you try to betray us-

— I have no interest in betraying you. It wouldn't even be fun. I don't want to get burned or shot.

— You can do whatever you want, as long as you let us know if you help us.

— Are you going to examine me?

— We need you. But we are doing anything that you don't want. Nothing invasive. I promise.

Envy is surprisingly flattered. Father had never trusted them, despite the years, despite their successes, despite their failures too. Father never really trusted anyone but Pride. So that the kid needed their guidance? It feels stupidly good.

— Not just yet Edward insisted. I mean, we all need a break. Even you. Come on. I'll give you- Oh. grandma!

Someone blocks their path, as tiny and dense as the core of a star. That the old lady from before, who yelled at the soldiers.

— And who’s that? she points at Envy.

Envy has lived long enough to know who to fear, thank you. They see much more than a little old lady with shriveled fingers, as if curled up in themselves by age.

—  They are with us. They are like- They are like Dad.

—  And what's their name?

—  Envy. Just Envy.

— Just Envy, you'll have to do the dishes, she cuts in abruptly. Edward, since you have two arms and none of them is rusty, you'll go back to the laundry.

And, just like that, she leaves, shouting at the soldiers still gathered in the entrance.

— What is she? Envy mutters to Edward, as the medical team works up to the floor, setting up the IVs, machines, and cables to keep Alphonse healthy.

Edward takes off his shoes and places them in his box without even thinking about it. Envy stares at their own feet for a moment. With a discreet spark, they make their socks disappear. Edward is polite enough not to point it out.

—  Grandma Pinako. She's like our grandmother. She was friends with our father and-

—  She was friends with Hohenheim?

—  Uh, yes, for- Why are you making that face? stops Edward.

—  Do you really know nothing about him?

—  I'll visit his grave as soon as Al gets better. Will you tell me about him?

—  You won't like what I have to say. Does the old lady know who he was?

—  She'll figure it out. Help me carry our bags, will you?

Envy doesn't move an inch, frozen in the doorway: 

— Where am I going? Are you going to put me in the basement?

— In the- But- No! What do you think we are?

— Kid, I've been around for two centuries. I have reasons to be suspicious of humans, especially when one tried to burn me to death.

— Nobody's going to hurt you here, okay? Just don't mention to Winry that you broke my automail and you'll be fine.

— Do they know?

— They suspect you're not human. You're not very discreet.

— I know very well how to disguise myself as a human, Envy scolds. Lust and I were the best at it. Better than Pride, better than-

— You dress like a showgirl. Grandma is old. You could make an effort around her

— So, it starts with psychological torture. I see.

— Take the suitcases instead of complaining! We have three rooms upstairs. Grandma sleeps on the first floor. It's safer at her age. Winry spends her time in her workshop, anyway. Al needs some room for the machines. Winry gets to keep hers, and you come with me. You don't sleep, do you?

— I can sleep. But I don't need it. 

Liar. Envy loves sleeping. They just don't feel safe, not yet.

— My room is bigger, and we put in furniture and stuff for Al when he was still in his armor. I'm used to noise when I sleep. You can keep busy.

— Are you watching me?

— We have no guarantee that Mustang won't come back, Edward admits. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens.

Envy grabs Edward's suitcases, which they guess are full of books by weight alone. They are surprised that the brothers have so few possessions. Okay, they've been on the run for months, yes - even years. But usually, humans love their stuff.

Envy never had anything. Unlike their siblings, they didn't need clothes to blend in with humans. Lust and Greed were allowed a small room, in the underground, to store their things. Envy had been jealous, foolishly, that they could own something, something that broke, wore out, disappeared. Something that had been made by others than them. Something that had to be put on, maintained, chosen.

— I am sorry that I could not find your coat, mutters Edward. Al will make a new one for you. 

— It's not like I need it.

Still, notices Envy, Edward remembers. Edward went to search for it. 

— You need to save some of your stone to recover and… I will lend you some stuff. I am a tad taller than you, but that should do. I have some old things here.

Edward has changed his style of dress, in a matter of days. He puts on linen shirts to go with the summer and light pants. On the train, he talked about ordering clothes.

— Are you going to be okay? worries Edward. You looked like you were in pain all the way.

Envy almost throws the suitcases at him.

— I'm fine, they spit. I still have all my limbs. Unlike you.

— You can change your name, you know? adds Edward suddenly.

— Why?

— I don't know. It's a flaw, it's a sin, it's not very- You don't have to be defined by it, now.

— I was created for this. For Father to be perfect. Changing my name isn’t going to fix anything. Even Greed kept his fucking name, and he stayed that way for a century.

— Are you proud of that?

— No, I just got used to it. I don't question it as much as you do.

— Still, it's a-

— I'm Envy. That's all. Now, show me your damn room. 

— Our damn room.

Chapter Text

— This is your room, Envy guesses as they poke their head in.

— Alphonse took Winry's room, and she's going to sleep in Grandma’s workshop. She has a spare bed there, and she told us she had a lot of work to do. Winry will not stay for very long. Her mentor has agreed to extend her stay, given the- Well, given the opportunity. Long trips are not yet authorized. And if there is a civil war-

— There won't be, Envy mumbles absently.

— What do you know about that?

— That's my job, Envy reminds him.

It's not even a joke - just a fact. 

— You can come in, you know. You look like a vampire, just step in.

— Excuse me for being cautious, mumbles Envy. The last time I met your brother, I got blown to bits.

— Alphonse couldn't even sign his name at the hospital. Do you think he's going to have fun setting traps? And there are no homunculus traps. It was elixirology - mixed with alchemy. They were activating it remotely with Mai. That's why you didn't recognize it.

— Damn, mumbled Envy. I got screwed like a sucker.

They finally take a step forward. A large Ishvalian carpet invades the whole space, hollowed-out only by the legs of the double bed, the desk, and a used sofa where Envy recognizes the familiar large shape of Alphonse's armor. He had to wait there while Edward slept. A bookcase built into three of the walls spills over to the top of the door. The most precious books, their leather covers drawn with gold threads, are kept protected behind a dusty glass case. The desk overlooks the garden, glued to one of the large windows. Edward draws the curtains, hangs them on the sides, and lights the gas lamps scattered on the furniture, the bedside tables. Fresh towels await them. Granny has even placed a small pile of new books on the desk - a tag still slipped into the first pages. On some frames, a blond, cheerful family. Envy recognizes Hohenheim on many. No change through the ages. This man who looks like his Father finally doesn't look like him anymore. On some, he smiles .

(Upon seeing Hohenheim with his kids, something fragile in Envy dies. Father may have been made with his blood and may have taken his face, but He left the rest. Pride told them that, at one point, their Father was sweet. Playful. Loving. Or the little shit was fucking lying. A loving father doesn't kill a rebellious child. A loving father doesn't let a loyal one die at his feet. A loving father doesn’t let them burn to death.)

— Did you have any personal belongings? Edward worries as he slides his clothes and shoes into the small chest of drawers.

Envy shrugs. Father forbade it. They didn't even have rooms. Over time, they had created a few corners in the tunnels. Envy had to chase the new Greed out of theirs. Envy insisted on living like a human, as much as possible: unlike the other homunculi, they wore out their stone daily to maintain their appearance and compensated by eating in the cafeteria, sneaking into the dorms, taking showers in the officers' quarters. Not that they needed to wash, they just enjoyed it. Another old habit of Lust's, who spent whole nights washing her hair, shaving her legs and arms, smearing creams on her thighs and stomach, masks on her face. No use, except for pleasure. Envy misses everything. They haven't slept in months, and haven't showered either.

— We were against it, but grandma insisted.

— Against what?

— Having a room here. We used to live a few hundred meters away.

He points out the window to a hill in the distance.

— Why didn't we go there then?

— We burned everything. Everything. Books, furniture, the house, everything. We didn't want anything left from our mistakes. Grandma still offered us a room.

Edward puts his suitcase on the carpet when the young blonde woman from earlier appears. She brandishes a cane, which one guesses to be new by the smell of molten metal.

— I made this for Al! Better than his shitty one… Do you need help, Ed? Or is your leg okay?

— We need an overhaul; he grins as he stands up. It's been months, and I haven't maintained it well.

Winry slips into the room, her flowery skirt fluttering behind her. She looks like the two brothers should have: Venetian blond hair, blue eyes - rather than Xerxes' trademark gold. Her hands are calloused, her nails cleanly cut. She smells powder, hot oil, and the sour smell of some acids. She stops in front of them, bowing slightly.

— I'm Winry. Ed must have told you about me. I hope so, at least.

— Yeah, yeah, Edward mumbles as he slides his clothes into the dresser.

Winry nods to Envy. Up and down. Up and down. Several times. Envy is not used to keep this body around humans.

— I'm Envy.

— Have we met before?

(I was in charge of watching you, studying your every move, and, if necessary, killing to take your place. Other than that?)

— No.

— It's nice to have a female presence anyway.

— I'm not a woman, Envy replies, trying not to sound too pinched.

— Oh, I'm- I'm confused. I'm- Oh, gosh, I'm sorry.

— Tell them they are dressed like a circus performer, Edward groans, his nose in his closets. I'm begging you.

— Coming from you? You dress like a color-blind person.

— Ed tends to think I'm an idiot, Winry cuts them off. Usually, when he says he's got a little problem, it's because he's going to commit a coup. When he's a little late, it's because he's deserting. When he's a little worried, it's because the whole country is going to burn to the ground. If he told me you weren't on our side, I guess it's worse than that.

— I killed people. People you know.

— Oh. Is that it?

— What do you mean, that's it?

From his corner of the room, Edward watches the conversation. Winry is right: he thinks she's an idiot. Envy has fled enough battlefields to recognize a potential enemy. This kid handles metal, tools, and forging. Danger. And if she's anything like Ed…

— I am used to it now. I- I have met my parents' killer. I healed him. I helped him. In turn, he helped save my country. I am just like my parents. Granny says it all the time. They were made to help other people, no matter the wars, the-

— Speaking of wars, Envy tries.

Edward glares at them. Well, that's fine. It can wait.

— It's also selfish to forgive. I'm young. Ed and Al- same thing. You look about our age. You can understand that, don’t you? We've got to rebuild everything. If you have any excuses or remorse, I don't care. I'm here to heal and rebuild.

— You say that now but-

— I almost killed this man. But I can't afford to get my hands dirty. And I can't expect others to do it for me. I don't know who you killed, what you did, or even who you are. If you want, you'll tell me. We have to focus on our future, now.

— Are you going to be okay with your apprentice? Edward approaches.

— Garfield suggested we go to Central. I told him it wasn't safe, as you advised me. We have enough to do at home anyway, and people can come to see us. Thanks to you, I am quite famous now!

— Even now that you've lost my arm? Edward teases

Envy remembers a conversation on the train between the two brothers: " Winry would die if I had both my limbs back ".

— You're already giving me enough trouble with your leg. We'll have to do an overhaul, by the way.

Edward rolls his eyes, his face contorted into a grimace.

— You'll do me the pleasure of paying for your other revisions! I'm still waiting for the bill from Central!

— There's been a coup, Winry, it's slowed down, I-

— I don't care. Just wait for your late fees. Just you wait.

Envy comes and sits on the bed, observing the two humans. Once against, they perceive something silent, something profound between the two humans. From what they had collected, Envy had guessed that Winry was Ed's fiancée but now, they are not so sure.

— Envy, right? Winry interrupts. Are you going to sleep here?

— I have to keep an eye on them, says Edward.

— Liar. You just can't get away from me.

— I'll bring up some pillows and sheets for the couch, Winry completes. Ed snores, I warn you. You- You don't have a suitcase.

— I don't have anything.

— We have several stores in the next village. I'll take you there in the van. Unless you need an escort?

— We need an escort for everything, Edward mumbles. Technically. Um, Winry… You shouldn't be alone with them. It's protocol.

— I'm not going to kill her, Envy said dryly.

— Oh, just try, giggles Winry. I can take care of myself.

— We know what to do, just in case. Al and I-

— Alphonse won't destroy my stone, completed Envy. He wouldn't be able to, and he won't need it. Winry, do you know the colonel?

— A very handsome man, smiles Winry.

Envy lets out a grimace of disgust.

— Anyway. The colonel wants me dead. If I take one step out of this house, he'll use that as an excuse and finish the job. He knows how to kill me, and surprisingly, I don't want to die. I'm not happy about it any more than you are. Or her.

— Oh, I'm fine with it. I never have company. I like to see new faces.

— New faces? Did you tell her? teases Envy.

— Told her what? He never says anything. And with Al almost in a coma, we didn't get anything.

— I'm not an alchemist, but I can do some things.

— Can you help me in the workshop? With the curfew and the border closures, I-

— I can change my appearance at will.

— Oh. How often do you change your appearance?

Envy shrugs.

— Most of the time, I stay like this. I prefer it.

— If you're- If you're changing, tell me, okay? So I don't get jumpy. Ed, you could have told me!

— Doesn't that surprise you more than that? Envy mumbles, a bit vexed.

— Told you. I'm used to it now. I hope you will tell me more. They always keep me in the dark, I never heard the fun stories...

— And why? Misogynist much, Fullmetal? You don't trust your sister?

— I'm not his sister, Winry blushes.

Shit.

— To his girlfriend!

From the look on Edward's face, Envy guesses they just made the situation worse.

— I'll shut up, they blur out.

— No, you're right. Ed never tells me anything.

— Envy is here to help us understand, adds Edward, pleased to change the subject. We'll do some of our interviews in the living room and probably some experiments, but- Nothing that Envy doesn't want. Nothing dangerous either. Only to see the extent of your abilities, okay? For the rest, we need to retrace the entire history of our country.

— And Xerxes, Envy adds.

— Did you know their father? Winry wonders carefully.

— I'm here because of him, Envy summarizes with a shrug.

— My father is responsible for all this, cuts in Edward. I'll explain it to you. I promise. No more lies.

— You better not, Winry threatens.

Chapter Text

The house rustles with people, and they keep bumping into each other more. Envy tries to memorize all the faces - the soldiers, like the doctors, have kept their masks and communicate only by dry signs, to give him the minimum of material. Alphonse's small, bare room is overrun with cables, machines, and pipes. The medical team makes sure that the journey has not damaged him too much, checking his blood pressure, his heart rate. Perched on a stool, granny changes his IV, reassuring the nurses:

— My children were doctors, you know? Plus, we all have mandatory medical training in our apprenticeships. He'll be safe with us.

Edward avoids showing them Winry‘s room and workshop - at least, not yet. The house is small, crowded. The old lady sleeps upstairs in an old office. Between the kitchen, the living room, and the workshop, they have quickly made the tour. Edward climbs up to the attic, scaring away dormice and some spiders:

— We'll probably make a library out of this, he explains, perched on the ladder. Do you still have your strength?

— Yeah?

— Well, you'll help us move the shelves. I can't do that, with my arm and Al, it would kill him.

— I'm going to be your house slave?

— No, you're just going to do your chores, that's all. Edward comes down, taking a careful leap to the floor. 

His automail squeaks, and he grimaces, continuing:

— It'll be a change from your old life, but-

— You'd be surprised to know that it won't, Envy mutters. I've always got the shittiest missions.

— Do you need to wash up?

— Yes! they lie. Do you have a tub?

— Come on.

The bathroom is located in the annex of the house. The Rockbells were the first family in the village to have running water, gas, and electricity. The house is a technological marvel. They only use the electricity for the lighting and the maintenance of the automails, the rest works thanks to the boiler, but it guarantees them an undeniable comfort of life.

— You go first. I'll go later. We have some time before dinner. Don't use all the hot water. Winry will kill you and send your corpse to fill the boiler.

— I'm starting to get my quota of death threats, Envy mutters.

Envy makes their clothes disappear, turning fabric into skin. Edward looks away a second too late, Envy's giggles ringing in his ears.

— Did you have to do that?

— Undress? Yes. The fabric is part of me, but it still mimics the material. So it gets wet. Fucking look at yourself! Almost too easy.

Envy slips into the shower, pulling the curtain behind them. Edward hears them absentmindedly handling the bottles. 

— I know what you're thinking, Ed.

Edward doesn't answer, blessing the shower curtain between them.

— I'll answer your silent question with another one: as an alchemist, what is perfect?

— I don't know, and I wasn't asking myself that question, Edward articulates painfully.

— Both and neither. Female and male. Same for me. Or it evolves according to my whims. And according to the whims of others-

— I'm telling you I wasn't asking myself that question! And the tap is on your left when you enter.

— Hot water! Envy suddenly rejoices from the other side of the curtain.

Edward painfully hides his surprise. This cheerful remark does not match any of the exclamations he has previously heard from Envy. It's a genuine relief - not mocking, not mean.

— Did you have to wash up? I mean, generally.

— We're not savages, thank you, Envy growls. But Father was against hot water. When Wrath came to power, he gave us access to the officers' showers.

— The shampoo bottle is on your left, the blue one. We're all blonds so-

— This is my first shower in six months. You think I'm going to complain? says Envy, their tone pinching.

— Six months?

— Your brother put me in a jar, remember? And as soon as I got to Central, I got fifteen minutes of peace before they tried to barbecue me.

— And before we left?

— Nothing. They put me in the pit, and that was it. No food, either. No sleep.

— Damn, mumbles Edward. Marcoh knew?

— What, that we still have to get some sleep?

— And eat, adds Edward.

— Of course, he did. He saw me eating at the cafeteria. I used to steal his steaks all the time since he didn't eat anything. He knows we're eating. Look, he must have wanted revenge and-

— Still!

— Ungrateful little shit. I've never treated anyone so well. We used to sit around and talk , for fuck’s sake. 

— Wait, you actually used to eat at the cafeteria?

— I even saw you there. We could hear you coming from miles away. I would sit close to you because it was funny to hear you plotting while I ate my fries. And I'd see you staring.

— I don't- Edward snaps.

— It's so easy to drive you crazy.

Edward hands them a towel and turns his back, his gaze fixed on the door.

— You're still burning, he notes. 

— To look at my ass, it's ten bucks, Envy replies dryly.

— Sorry, Edward realizes. Sorry, I'm not used to- Sorry.

— Used to treat us like humans? I saw that, thank you.

— I'm sorry I left you like that. I didn't know you had to eat or sleep, I thought-

— You reward your heroes well, giggles Envy, their face buried in the towel. 

— I'm sorry about everything. I've thought a lot about it-

— I don't want to talk about it, Envy stops him.

— Okay, okay- You shifted… Did you cut your hair shorter in the shower?

— More practical, grumbles Envy.

Their face finally emerges from the towel, and Edward only becomes aware of how fragile their skin is. The stone has yet to work on their internal damage and leaves the rest vacant: their broken fingernails, their cheeks hollowed out, their dark circles blue, their eyes sunken in their sockets, redness from stress showing on their cheekbones and neck. They stand undone, their fingers limp, their movements slowed. Edward fears that, when seeing themself, Envy will do something stupid and rip off their stone. But Envy simply notes every detail, every imperfection, and, letting their palms run over their face, corrects what they can. Blood-red flashes briefly fill the bathroom, and Envy forms back their headband, top, and, a notable exception, a new pair of light-colored pants:

— For the old lady, Envy points out.

— And the top?

— I've got limits, Envy squeaks.

— You- I'm sorry, I looked, but you still have your ouroboros mark.

— And you have your belly button, snaps Envy. I think so. I haven't been able to check. Yet .

— I thought maybe you'd become different, with Father's death. For the mark, I mean.

Envy shrugs:

— It's like you and your children: I still carry a part of Him inside me, even after His death.

— Was He created from our dad's blood?

— Partly, yeah. A lot of people were sacrificed for Him to be born. Your dad had the ass to survive and please Him. He was a survivor.

— He was a slave.

— A prisoner, like our Father. I and my siblings never understood why He wanted more, even more. We were already far superior to you. So why more? We had a whole country to ourselves, and He wanted to be a god. That must be why I could never stand Greed.

Edward leans over the tub and turns on the water, pulling his fingers out just in time: the taps are hot. 

— The cold water one is broken, Edward remarks. I'll go get Winry's toolbox and fix it.

Envy comes over and cautiously leans over the sink and remarks:

— You haven't used your alchemy in days. You don't usually bother-

— I don't have it anymore, Edward mutters, testing the water temperature.

— WHAT?

— I sacrificed it. To find Alphonse. It was more important than that, more important than anything.

— But you lost a part of - You've- Shit! If I couldn't shape-shift anymore, I'd fuck myself up, how could you- How could you be so stupid!

— This is what I should have done - all along.

— You're the son of Hohenheim, you idiot! You're one of the most powerful people in this fucking country, and now you're- What are you now?

— A survivor, smiled Edward.

— No, a fucking fool! Why didn't you use a stone? Why didn't you use mine or my- Damn it! You can't be that stupid!

— I didn't want to use souls to fix my own mistakes. I told you that.

— You used my stone to get-

— To save us. You included. And we didn’t have any other choice. But Alphonse- It was my fault. I had to fix it myself. I didn't lose everything, you know? Alphonse can still use it. I still have my knowledge. I still have my arm. I still have what matters most, okay?

— What the hell are you going to do with your life if you don't have chemistry? What if someone tries to kill you? I could stick your head in this tub and drown you, what are you going to do about it?

— Winry is right next door. Alphonse still has his chemistry.  I'm not alone. I even got my arm back!

— I will never understand humans.

— That's because you've known us for too long. You must have seen some shit. I'm barely twenty, and I've- I couldn't have stayed at Central, with everything I know, I would have- Even without alchemy, I can still do my research. Dad rarely used alchemy at home. My mother didn't have it. I can manage to live without it, right? I think I've had enough of it in the last few years to last a lifetime.

— I should drown you. Right now.

— You say that, but you're still here, aren't you? I'm the only one watching over you. You could have ripped your stone off, right now, and called it a day. You didn't, even though you've lost a lot too. You understand, right?

— Part of you is dead. You're not the Fullmetal alchemist anymore. All for-

— For my brother. I would have sacrificed my own life if I had to, but he would never have forgiven me for that. That's all I wanted, to get our bodies back. Not the glory, not the titles. Just this. Our promise.

— And now, what are you going to do? Envy spits.

— Everything else.

Chapter Text

Envy holds back from devouring everything: along with the snack on the train, this is the first meal they have been allowed in months. They never eat with humans.

In Central, they and their siblings would eat early, so that no one noticed that neither Greed nor Gluttony were aging through the years. Lust played the outraged lady when asked about her youth's secrets. Envy took those meals together for granted, so much so that they would be hard-pressed to describe them today. Their siblings might have talked strategy, flipped through newspapers, fought over bullshit. Gluttony would end up eating the cutlery, Greed would rather burn his tongue than share a bit of his thermos, and Lust would supervise. They ate early in the morning, and stayed until the kitchens closed, smoking over the sink, letting Greed pillage the wine bottles and Gluttony, gobble up the leftovers.

— It's a waste, otherwise, Lust argued, handing him the dirty dishes.

That was centuries ago - well, only one, but still. For the Elric brothers, too, it seems like an event. Winry hangs on Alphonse's every breath. The kid carries an IV everywhere with him, and the old lady makes sure it's plugged in. He looks more like his mother - Envy has glimpsed her in photos - than Hohenheim. He is taller, his jaw more pronounced, his back straighter than Edward's. Edward's body has taken a beating in recent years, a shock that no amount of medical care will heal. His muscles are tense, his gestures lively, he is always staring at the doors. He looks ready to run when he just got home.

— Do you eat? Granny assures him, pulling him out of his reverie to look him up and down.

— Yes, like you. But I cannot-

— You are thin as a nail.

Envy barely restrains themselves from tearing her head off. They haven't hung out with humans in years, and six months in that fucking jar didn't help.

— You'll do the dishes, Granny reminds them. Everyone has to do something for the house, even you.

— What did Ed tell you about me?

— I don't want to know. Do you mind? I have enough to deal with in my own life. I'm not going to interfere. Ed and Al, and Hohenheim have their adventures. I have my house. You could have been Führer Bradley, and I wouldn't have cared as long as you were clean and quiet. Which you seem to be, surprisingly.

They suddenly miss the meals with their brothers and sister: a physical pain, a hunger, deep in their stomach. It's much worse than the tea parties at the Bradley's when Pride had the audacity to ask them to be his "best friend". Agony. They didn’t even get the opportunity to throw a tantrum. Envy hates eating in front of humans. They feel like an idiot, having to stoop to their level. They would throw themselves out of the window if they let even one drop of the sauce. Fortunately, the Elric brothers are inhaling more than they are eating, attracting everyone's attention. Only Winry gives them an encouraging smile. Their eyes hurt a little. They must be exhausted. Months later, they don't know if they have digested their sister's death.

Lust was the most powerful being they ever met.

— Our most talented agent, Father rejoiced.

Father adored Lust when Envy had to work for years before He would lend them a compliment. Father cherished His elders as the parts of Him that they were. Greed fucked it all up. Dark years. When Father finally parted with His anger, Envy had been relieved. They hated it when Father was angry. Fortunately, Lust made sure it rarely happened.

Lust used her gender as additional strength. She didn't even need her shape or beauty to be effective: her status as a woman alone was enough. Envy had never really understood why humans considered women more fragile. Their own appearance was hardly feminine, and yet people would treat them differently than Greed.

— You cut your hair, Alphonse notes, pulling them out of their thoughts.

Envy would have gladly killed him, with just their fork.

— It looks good on you, he adds at once.

— Thank you, they mumble through their teeth.

— We told Grandma you could change your shape. In case you- We don't know if you change it often if it's something tiring, or-

— I like this shape. But change doesn't hurt.

(They all changed, a bit. Edward does not braid his hair anymore. Alphonse cut it. Even Winry is wearing a ponytail. Edward gave her earrings on the way home: golden, they fluttered on her cartilage. Her ear is pink - the hole is recent. Humans struggle to heal the smallest thing. Envy wonders if earrings would fit them. Lust pierced her ears every night before going out. It did not matter if it eventually healed. Every night, without even needing a mirror over time, she pierced her lobe).

— You eat like a pig, Winry sighs in Edward's direction. You have no excuse now that Al has his body back.

— I'm recovering, mumbles Edward, his mouth full.

— What do you mean by excuses? dares Envy.

— Look at Envy, they know how to behave.

— I was educated, mumbles Envy.

Lust slapped their neck every time they put their elbows on the table. She'd stab Greed until he quit smoking at dinner. She had even managed to teach Gluttony to eat properly. Officially, it was to facilitate their undercover operations, but Lust was a lady, that's all. After a few decades, Pride had even agreed to eat with them. That was something.

— So?

— Edward and Alphonse believe that the transmutation bonded them, including physically. Edward would have slept, eaten, lived for Alphonse's body, and prevented it from decaying, rotting, or dying.

— Maybe- And your arm?

— It has grown, even without me, Edward summarized, his mouth full. But I have to relearn everything.

— The mechanisms of the automails emulate those of the limbs, but we can't do everything. Besides, we don't want to do everything. Edward's automails had to be functional for combat, resistant- An arm can adapt to everything, not his. You have to relearn all the reflexes.

— It's boring, Envy mumbles.

— Is it the same for you? asks Alphonse. Do you have to get used to each body?

— It becomes a reflex.

— And some things are more difficult?

Envy tries to not show how much they appreciate this sudden attention.

— It's worse to go from an animal to a human. Not necessarily because of the reorganization of the organs, but because the spine gets messed up when you straighten up. It's weird when you go from mammal to reptile cause you have to change the blood system, you have- You are taking notes.

— For our research, Alphonse reminds them gently, painfully scratching his pen on a small notebook.

— No work talks at the table, the old lady cut in. You'll do your little theories in the office, not here. Envy, do you have a last name?

Oh, damn it. Envy gives the two brothers a desperate look.

— Bradley, Edward stammers.

— Like the Führer?

— A distant cousin lies Envy.

The two brothers exchanged glances. Officially, President Bradley and his son are human. No - are dead.

— Ah. I don't see the resemblance, but maybe. Have you been to our area before?

— Ishval is a little southeast? I must have crossed without stopping.

She doesn't insist, quickly changing the subject of conversation. Not until after dinner, when Winry and Edward escort Alphonse upstairs, each grabbing an arm. Envy gathers the dishes and has barely begun to run a trickle of hot water over them when the Granny bursts into the kitchen.

— You're like Hohenheim, aren't you? I can feel it.

— Not exactly. But my Father was like him.

— You're like Ed and Al, then?

— No. They're human, they-

— How old are you? You're like Ed and Al, you don't have children's eyes. Are you young?

— Never was.

(There was a time when they must have been a child? They blurrily remember some years, softer than others. When they didn't even have a human body. When Lust let them sleep with her. When Greed was teasing but never violent. There were times when Father was different. More human.)

— Are you like Hohenheim?

— A bit. I can't die. At least not right away. I'm older than you.

— You have parents-

— No. A Father. And not in the usual sense. And He's dead. Do you know-

— No, I don't know. I never wanted to know. There are things about this country you don't want to know. I repair and heal. After Ishval, I became rich. It's sad to say, but that's how it is. I was able to get a bigger house, but my children never came back to live there. I was able to raise Ed and Al, take care of their sick mother, my granddaughter. But I got all that because people lost their arms, eyes, legs- And by doing what?

— I was in Ishval, Envy immediately admits. I was in Lior. I was in the two Southern wars. I was at the Wellsry riots. I vaguely remember the Soapman incident.

— I also saw several of these wars. Our technologies were not as developed. We were sent mostly to prevent gangrene. We had to amputate so many people- We must have crossed paths on the battlefields.

— I don't like fighting. I was more like a spy? I don't know.

— That's all over now. They promised me. No more war. No more revenge either. This country won't survive if we all settle our scores. Revenge won't bring anyone back to life.

(Envy could easily list all the collaborators, all those who knew, all the soldiers whose medals implied the number of victims. It was their job to find them, to encourage them, to guide them, to divide them, to make them disappear. Grumman. Mustang. Even Armstrong. All those people Edward and Alphonse make calls to, send letters to... Those people who send fruit, get-well cards... Those people who encourage Alphonse to become a State Alchemist and Ed to take a leadership position in the military, all of them... Killers.

Envy still wonders how the old lady let Edward become an army dog. A kid. She must have thought she was doing the right thing. They always thought they were doing the right thing.)

— And if I tell you that my actions precipitated the death of your children? Envy tries, as Granny hands them some soap to wash the dishes.

— Winry knows? she mumbles without looking up, busy putting the leftovers into smaller dishes.

— Yes. Ed finally told her.

It took Envy all afternoon - screaming at Ed while he was undoing his suitcase.

— If I were to hold a grudge against everyone who had a hand, indirectly or otherwise, in the death of my children, I could not live. Even this man, Scar, that Ed and Al told me about... This man decided to put aside his revenge to rebuild his country, right?

— He should have continued to sort it out. There are several traitors in your government-

(Envy realizes, vaguely, that these men have a certain interest in making them disappear. Many knew them by their real name and identity. They sometimes look at the troops of soldiers assigned to their guard and wonder which of them was a conspirator? Which one will come to try to finish them off? Or, worse, to attack the Elric brothers?).

— Too many tombs in our cemeteries. We can't add any more.

— Ed and Al want the whole story to come out. If they publish the true history of this country, it will be the end. The other countries will invade us, to end it all. There will be civil war. Rebellion. Putsches will follow one another. We have to keep on lying, otherwise, our country is dying.

(Our country?)

— They want to know about themselves, the old woman gently reminds them. Now that they know about Hohenheim, they are consumed with guilt. Especially Alphonse. Ed must have seen... Ed still has trouble grasping it all, understanding it all, it's all very confusing in his head. Alphonse has had much more time to think about it.

— Why?

— He told me that a whole country had died, because of their father's fault.

— They're as guilty as I am, then, Envy snarled.

— Explain it to them. They need to know the truth.

Chapter Text

Envy hears the two brothers before they even enter the kitchen. Edward's automail tires, creaks, sometimes jams. Alphonse's frail body is compensated by the strokes of his cane. Apparently unaware that he is several hundred pounds lighter, he puts the same power into his gestures as before. They have lived with each other too long: they don't speak, they shout.

(Envy won't admit it to themself, but it reminds them of the early years when the plan was just a vague horizon, Gluttony a project, and the city their playground. Greed could be so fucking noisy in the morning.)

— Are you still made of metal or what? It's crazy to make a noise like that.

— Already up?

Lust was a creature of the night. With Greed, they went to bars, casinos, and brothels, without limits. There, no one commented on their appearances, their manners. Since they could not be drunk, they intoxicated themselves in the company of humans. Humans still had some good aspects. The prostitutes caressed Gluttony’s glistening skull, slipped him trays of sweets, kisses like so many sweets. Greed was polite enough to ask before grabbing, often disappearing for days on end with some girls. Sex workers were used to all kinds of freaks, and Lust always paid well:

— If you knew what those kids put up with, she mumbled as she left generous tips.

Oh, Envy got it quickly.

— There is coffee for you. Careful, still hot, Envy mumbles, scraping a particularly stubborn stain.

— I didn't hear you wake up, says Edward.

— Unlike you two, I have manners. Winry is already in the workshop. The old lady has gone to buy some parts of town. 

Alphonse takes a seat at the table, petting the dog. Envy comes to serve them mechanically. They don't even think about it anymore. They oversaw bringing the meals to their family: Lust attracted too much attention, and Gluttony had no manners. They went to the cafeteria three times a day, pretended to be Selim's preceptor, and brought back whole trays to their brothers and sister. Only Father never ate. Disgraceful.

— Did you wash dishes? Edward notes. We... we thought you weren't going to let this happen.

— It's either that or I sleep in the chicken coop, Envy reminds him dryly.

— Yeah, but... I don't know. For someone who freaks out at every insult, you take it surprisingly well.

— It's not an insult to clean up, Envy snaps. That's your thing... You're miserable, tiny- So to compensate, you create hierarchies. All that to forget that you are nothing.

— I don't despise waiters! Alphonse exclaims.

— As you should. They're the ones who make the country work. They know everything. For you, they are nothing... Furniture, almost... You don't look at them. You wouldn't even notice if- If they didn't have a face... he turns to Edward, transforming his face.

— Oh, damn it! Edward gasps. Stop it!

A few sparks later, Envy gets their smile back - and more importantly, a face.

— I learned more by talking to them and taking their place than I did by taking the place of generals... The secret is to go after the ones at the very bottom of your ladder. But not low enough to be on the street. Those who serve. For example, you never take a wife's place. Always the mistress. They're the ones who know. Or the prostitutes. Always. They are the ones who could overthrow governments...

— You used to go to brothels? Alphonse tries.

— Of course. Your whole army was going there. Well, except for mister moralist here...

Edward jumps up and mumbles:

— That's because there are only girls in them...

— Right, Envy simmers. And you need women?

Edward turns away. Alphonse changes the subject - way too quickly:

— Grandma is younger than you, right?

— Age is just a number, mumbles Envy, scratching harder.

— That's what Mustang said! What? Why- Why are you looking at me like that?

— I'll explain, stammers Edward.

— No comment, grins Envy, mimicking nausea in the sink.

(Envy could have murdered Edward in his sleep. They thought about it. They stationed themself over his sleeping body, fingers ready to wriggle against his arteries and squeeze. It would have been easy. But none of them had the right to kill the Elric brothers. An old instinct remained with them from all those years: hurt him, without killing him. Protect him, but don't let it show too much. Envy had always liked Edward. It was rare to cross paths with someone who can understand. Edward and Alphonse were not only related to each other by blood: the last Xerxian left. They could relate, in their guts. 

And now, both Alphonse et Edward have seen Envy in all their forms. Envy has killed for less, but the two brothers had not - too much - changed their attitudes toward them. They gave chimeras the same respect they offered to the soldiers guarding outside, the delivery men, Alphonse's doctors.)

Edward delicately slides his fingers over a bowling cup and brings it to his lips, taking a deep breath.

— Is this the elixir of immortality or what?

— It's coffee. It keeps me alive.

— It looks like the oil in your automail.

— And like the oil in my automail, it keeps me going, Edward ceremoniously concludes, taking his first sip.

Envy doesn't move an inch, their eyes fixed on the cup. Edward raises his eyebrows and hands it to them:

— Be careful. It burns...

Envy almost snatches it out of his hands, gulping down a sip as well - and scraping it up just as quickly. Edward yelps as he backs away - too late, it's all over his shirt.

— Poison, gasps Envy. It's poison!

— It's coffee! If it was poison, I'd be dead by now.

— Poison, insists Envy.

— Yeah, well, it wakes me up! I need at least one before I can stand you. Didn't you use to drink it?

— There were some in the cafeteria, but the smell always put me off. Greed was using it. Turned me off to it.

— You ate in the cafeteria? Really?

— Lust preferred the local restaurants. I liked the cafeteria. You can borrow the newspapers. Observe people.

— While we were looking for you, you were... You were there, Edward realized.

— Ironic, Alphonse points out absentmindedly as he smooths out the folds of the newspaper.

— Do you remember how I looked like a blond soldier? Didn't you recognize it? I was the one who was going to get the meals for everyone. That is until Greed broke, and Lust died... After that, the other Greed would take off, and I'd let Gluttony wander around the city alone. I don't know if he was eating people. Maybe he was. Maybe. I don't know.

Edward scribbles in his notebook for a moment:

— Every time you talk, I have- So many questions.

— I'm too interesting, Envy simmers. Don't you have any tea?

— Left shelf, above the plates, summarizes Winry as she walks down the hall. Hi, you two! Already up?

— Somebody snores, scolds Envy.

— A nightmare, eh? tries Winry. When we were kids, we used to put a pillow over his head so we could sleep.

— I'm going to need two cups of coffee, moans Edward.

— Is the couch comfortable? Winry continues, slipping into the kitchen to fill a water tank.

Envy glances nervously at Edward.

— Not enough for this lordship, smirks Edward. I've heard you tossing and turning all night.

— Couldn't sleep, Envy admits.

— The couch isn't too... tries Alphonse. I don't have it either... Is it still standing?

— Surprisingly, yes.

— Phew, sighs Alphonse.

Envy does not mention that the couch squeaks like it is being tortured to death. Alphonse eats slowly, carefully separating each small loaf into smaller pieces, cutting almost excessively so that each piece is the size of a bite. Edward watches him, adjusts his position, refills him with water. Alphonse has forgotten how to eat, and even how to be hungry. Years of habit are to be lost. Envy vaguely wonders how he holds up. How they would have reacted if their stone was taken away and they became mortal. Alphonse, at least, was born that way. Envy would rather die than lose his powers, his body, his stone.

The worst part is that the kid seems happy. He chuckles when his coffee burns. He savors every bite. He sauces the plate until there's nothing left. Not Edward. Edward is always on edge when his brother is around. He has the same tense back, clenched fists, sharp look as on the battlefield. He is afraid his brother will choke. He is afraid his brother will develop a disease. He is afraid his brother will fall down the stairs. He is afraid his brother won't wake up again. He is afraid that one day, just as easily as his arm was a gift back, he'll wake up without a brother.

That Envy can understand. They don't remember when or where they were when Lust died. Or even what Pride told them. Only his tone: not sad, not angry, just stunned. It was enough to know that something bad happened. Lust should never have died. Lust was the second, the ultimate spear, a weapon of war, and an outstanding strategist. She had seen more wars, more massacres, more countries, and more people than any of them: she was sent first on a mission, the best spy, the best fighter. She rushed to the battlefields: so fast, so furious, that one could not follow her. She would only leave strangely clean corpses: only her aftermath.  Blood lust.

Edward slips them the notebook, scrawled with his sinuous handwriting:

— This is the schedule for the next few days. You can cross out the things you don't want to do and the questions you don't want to answer.

— Is that all? says Envy indignantly.

— Alphonse is exhausted, and so am I.

— I thought you were going to cut me open. Not take my blood pressure.

— I don't want to become like some of the men I've met, okay? And I doubt you would have let that happen.

Envy casually shrugs.

— I'm not suicidal. And I am not going to try to confront you. You both beat me up, so... I bow out.

Edward and Alphonse exchange a tense look. Envy acts as if they haven't noticed, taking a gluttonous swallow of all his coffee.

— I don't have a plan anymore, he adds. No more orders to follow.

— All this... Alphonse dares to say it softly, putting down his cutlery. What was it for you? A game? A destiny, a... A promise?

— No idea. A game, maybe? You, humans, have so many values, concerns... Why do you think I did it? Because it was right? Because I thought it was... No. I don't know. I was doing it. I was just doing it. I was born for it. I was made for it. I just do it. Good little soldier.

— What happens now?

— I don't know.

(Liar. It kept them awake. It kept them up all the weeks before. They scratch their chest when Edward is not looking - or not looking too hard. It would be easy to end it. And yet, they stay.)

— I have a question, tries Envy in the hallway.

Alphonse is already going upstairs for his physio session. Edward is busy in the living room, setting up the furniture to design their future workspace. On the walls, despite its fragility, Alphonse has taken the time to put up cork panels, a large desk, and arrange work instruments. No scalpels, daggers, or syringes. The Elric don't work like that.

— Ed? insists Envy.

— What? he stands up, touching up his ponytail. 

— Why? he asks.

Edward stares at him for a few seconds.

— I'm sorry?

— Why am I still here? Why did you save me in Glut's belly and now, again? Why are you doing this?

— I... Honestly?

— Yes.

— Well, help me clean up if you want to talk.

Envy moves the couch, while Edward arranges their notebooks, loose sheets, reports, books, pencils. It's like Selim's room, Envy thinks absentmindedly - no, Pride. Pride's room. Edward glanced at them nervously before confessing, while Envy arranged the heavy chairs in the living room:

— I don't know? I wasn't going to... I wasn't going to steal your rock- It's not a rock, it's your heart, I don't... You helped us out. Those moments when we put the pieces of walls together, circle when we talked, I- I started to understand a little bit better. And seeing you? I wasn't going to... I wasn't going to walk away with your stone and sacrifice yourself completely for Al?

— You could have, Envy stopped.

— Couldn't you? It was enough to use all those souls, everything... Everything you did too. I couldn't... Not for that.

— And then what?

— I already told you. I want to do better than my father, better than all the people before us, better than... I have so much anger, so much- I want it to mean something. What good would it have done to let you die or kill you? Especially after seeing Mustang like that, after... I can't forget what I saw that day. It haunts me, like everything else. I want to do better.

— You want to save everyone.

— That's it. But I know that's not possible. At least you're immortal. Easier than...

(Than a little girl. Than a mentor. Than a mother. Than a country.)

— So, you would have done it for anyone? You did it for Pride, at the same time...

— For Selim, corrects Edward. And I don't kill. Nobody.

— You won't get far like that.

— Look at you!

— What? snaps Envy, their fingers digging into the softwood of the chair.

— You helped us. You're still helping us.

— Because I don't give a shit. And I owe you one. You happy?

— Yes, I'm happy. For once, yes.

Chapter Text

Something must be wrong. Something is always wrong. Lust at least had the decency to point out to them when they missed a detail, an expression. None of the Elric's would do that. So, while Edward brushes his hair - a ritual that takes him at least an hour - Envy corrects their face. Their gut hurts, familiar anguish bubbling up inside. They swallow painfully, tries to concentrate. It's futile.

They know what you look like.

Envy corrects the height of their eyebrows. No, it's not that. The color of their eyes? No, not yet. Their smile draws a dimple to the left. It's a flaw, but it is good. Not too perfect. Not like they spent hours in front of the mirror every morning correcting that bag of skin, blood, and organs that was their body. No, it comes naturally to them. Just like that. An instinct. Almost an accident.

— You look crazy, commented Lust.

— My left ear is too small.

— Crazy.

Hair is easier now that it's shorter. Envy tests different hairstyles, buns, braids, even braids. Still, there is always something wrong. What is attractive? Beyond the paintings, geometry, golden numbers, heavenly icons, and statues, Envy is clueless. Fashions are evolving faster than they are. Body shapes, face shapes, hairstyles, makeup spun according to the seasons, sometimes the occasions, and Envy remained, like an idiot, looking for their face every morning.

Edward made several remarks about their clothes. It might be that. But something was still wrong. No one commented on their face, but Winry took them for a woman, and, yesterday, Granny asked them if they were from Xing. They had never thought about it, but those features are fine, almost sharp. Do they need to be changed?

Envy does not know what to do, what they want. Inside their belly rises the familiar disgust, liquid mercury, acid attacking their skin, their throat. It comes up to their eyes. They do not cry - but only because Edward is here. There were so many other mornings, which became days, where Envy stood in front of their reflections. They could feel it, paralyzing their joints, distorting their features into a sad grimace, dripping into their lungs, engulfing their guts. They could die from it. 

— That's fine, Edward approached, absent-mindedly sliding his palm over Envy's shoulder.

Envy flinched, their hips banging against the sink, their fists hardening, ready to retaliate. Edward freezes, palm open.

— What? threatens Envy.

— Why are you reacting like that?

It is not even an accusation. It is sincere. Envy relaxes their back slightly.

— You want to fight.

— No. I wanted to compliment you, and you jumped like I was going to-

— You want to fight, Envy insists. You- You hit me.

— Touched, corrects Edward.

— That's it, that's it, all to-

— No, I didn't! says Edward indignantly. It was to compliment you! Does it hurt when someone touches you? How- Why did you jump like that?

— The only time you've ever touched me, as you say, was to beat me up and vice versa!

— Nobody here is going to beat you up. Except for Winry if you keep yelling while she's sleeping!

Envy slid down to the warm tile floor, thighs curled up against their chest, arms crossed until they turned white.

— And now you're sulking, Edward observes, continuing to brush his unruly locks.

— I'm not sulking, Envy grumbles. I'm trying to calm down.

Edward has the courtesy not to insist. Envy concentrates on their breath. They do not need to breathe - at all. But like many details that make them human, they have taken a liking to it. Plus, they had to learn to calm down, at least for a bit. Father never tolerated any tantrum - or excess of emotions, no matter what kind.

Edward can understand. He is still short-tempered. The whole household is: Winry swears every time she loses a screw. Granny mutters insults every time she walks Den and passes the troop of soldiers harnessed to their protections. Even Al gets angry, fists white, lips pursed, when his legs give out on him, or he must lie down after working too long.

But Edward is the worst.

What used to be forgivable, given his age and situation, has gotten worse with trauma. He does not get upset about his height anymore, but about everything else. He yells at the radio. He tears up the newspaper. He slams his fist on the table when an equation escapes him, and, worst of all, when he claps his hands, and nothing happens.

Edward sometimes forgets what he has lost. He puts on a brave face in front of the others, but Envy, who sleeps in his room, has seen him on sleepless nights. Envy pretends to be asleep and listens to his palms clapping. Edward says nothing, does nothing, but Envy can feel it. Nothing.

Yet, no one yells at Edward. Nobody tries to punish him. Grandma makes him tea, takes him out for a walk, and talks to him. Den scratches at their door and curls up in his bed. Winry closes the workshop's door behind them, and they stay there for hours, under the pretext of reworking his leg. Alphonse politely asks Envy to leave the living room, and they talk, talk, talk. And, little by little, Edward calms down. Edward's voice is more regular. Winry takes over answering the phone. Alphonse summarizes the news to them. Edward is calmer.

Envy has always believed that stupid anger, impulsiveness, hubris was Edward's nature. A bit like Wrath, it was his drive, his reason. And now, Edward is trying to be calmer. No one told Envy that it was possible. They just called him the most "vile," the most "depraved," the most "uncontrollable." Mostly fake accusation: in undercover missions, they had to contain themself. They only let off steam with their own, when returning to their body, face, name. But Envy does not like to fight. They feel anger welling up inside them, with each hit, each insult, and they always end doing something stupid. Every bit of self-control disappears in the heat of the moment. What has gone up must go down.

- That's what Envy does, Father summarized. It turns against itself. It's one of the worst sins.

It has no externality: nothing but pain. It destroys, nibbles, dissolves the sinner. Envy drives one crazy, with nothing to come out of it. Like a black hole, it drags everything inside. Rage, frustration, self-hatred, disgust, and to keep it all in, lies. So, yeah, in battle, Envy would end up spinning.

It got worse after Greed's departure, after Lust's death. There was no one left to let them loose a little, to tell them to calm down, to at least talk! Envy could be calm, even sympathetic. Envy had been capable of friendships, relationships, sex with other humans - sometimes even under their real name. Then what was wrong? Why is something always wrong?

— May I? assured Edward, before kneeling beside them. You seem to be drowning in your thoughts.

Envy cannot think of anything to say. They are still too tired to return to their usual teasing.

— If you want to get angry, you can. I'll let you have the room, and you can- I don't know, yell into the pillows? Don't make fun of me! I do it. Or you can have Al make you some furniture or something and break it. Grandma's got a storage unit around the corner, at the bottom of the garden. You could do without the soldiers stopping you and without anyone seeing. There's no shame in it. 

— It's not anger, mumbles Envy. I'm just not used to feeling. And this is too much. Too much.

— The fact that you only live with humans?

— No. I'm used to that. But with this?

They open their palms, hoping Edward will understand.

— Oh. You mean with people who know you.

— Only my family used to be like that. And you- You know.

— I know, confirms Edward. Honestly, I didn't think you'd be able to spend- To live with us, after we saw you, in all your appearances. It seemed like a sensitive subject.

Envy brushes off the idea with a wave of their hand, lips twitching:

— It's more than just my face. I'm Envy, the-

Edward immediately tenses up.

— What? snaps Envy.

— For someone made of transformations- I'm not saying that, so you stop transforming. It's your power. It's your nature, its- I can see you're not doing this like Al does his alchemy. You're not doing this to create or to have fun. I've seen you do it before, but just now, in the mirror, you were-

— I'm not angry.

Edward does not answer.

— I'm not angry!

— I don't have to teach you that.

Envy straightens up, pinching Edward on the shoulder.

— Look. Do you know who sees me doing this? Nobody.

— Uh, yeah, I- I didn't know.

— You know what I mean? Progress. That's what humans do.

It is hard to think of progress when you cannot die. Their existence has no end, no outline. Days pass with the same constancy and importance as the hours. Not for Edward, not for Alphonse: each year without their bodies was a lost year. Winry counts the days before returning to Rush Valley. Grandma Pinako observes the harvests, predicts the quality of the crops, explains how the weather influences their flavors. Time builds their lives, as does gravity. Envy only really understood this when they almost died. Twice.

First. At the bottom of Gluttony’s belly, killing themself was the only option in the face of the alternative of madness.

Last. Deep in Central, crying, begging. Never had they been so aware of everything they had, wanted, were.

They did not want to die. 

— Do you feel better?

— That's just a lot for me to get used to, even if I- what did you say? Made of transformation. And of Envy.

— Stop with- Please stop with that.

They know the worst weaknesses of humans. Not only from years of working with the army. It was also in their very own nature. Homunculi were born of the cruel utilitarianism of Father, getting rid of His defects in His children. 

But Alphonse was greedy, lustful, impertinent.

But Edward was angry, violent, and proud.

But Winry was jealous, nervous, and overwhelmed.

Rather than being characterized by these flaws, they defined themselves by how they overcame them. Alphonse made all this fun, curiosity, joy in the small things. Edward turned it into a force, an energy that, like steam propels locomotives, pushed him to go further and further. Winry made this her motivation, her ambition, her ideas. No one had ever taught Envy that you can turn that into strengths.

— You can be anyone! Winry marveled as she showed them how she was piecing together a mechanical finger. Everything I take hours to do, you create in two seconds.

— Only on me, grumbled Envy.

And yet! Al and Ed take advantage of Envy's knowledge and abilities to verify theories of the time, to guide medical discoveries. Envy can stop their joints, nerves, organs without pain. Under their skin, they can conjure up a menagerie.

(Edward and Alphonse discuss this without mentioning it to Envy. If Envy envied humans, it was because Father, more than being a god, wanted to be one of them. He could never, ever be exactly like them.

Yet neither Edward nor Alphonse had too risky a definition of humanity. Wasn't their father just like Father? What would that make them? Demigods? No. In a crowd, no one could tell them apart from the other citizens. And Alphonse had doubted his humanity too much to deny it to Envy. 

No, what Father wanted was a family. Pride was not just a child by some cruel irony: Pride, or Selim, was the perfect child. Armestris's little brother, his model child, his little prince. And then He had sabotaged everything. It was that stupid. By distilling His sins, His flaws, and therefore His personality, Father had thought He could be God. Father had thought he wanted to be a God.

It didn't take a genius to see that Envy finally got what they wanted and that centuries later, in a way, so did Father. At last, like Father and Hohenheim in the hot air of Xerxes, homunculus, and humans share the same house.)

Chapter Text

Envy sulks, forehead glued to the cold window. Outside, it is raining. The soldiers patrol anyway, their masks dripping, their uniforms melted in the fog. Den sighs outside the door. Edward had to put away the clothes that were drying outside in a panic. They are now wetting the floor. They are the only ones who are really suffering from the downpour. Winry and the old lady are working in the workshop. They are making a new eye prosthesis, an exclusive contract with the army contract. Like every morning, after his physical therapy and rehabilitation sessions, Alphonse and Edward occupy the living room and return to their research. They don't always need Envy, but they keep him around to confirm, refute and guide their theories. Now, they are working on the links between elixirology and early forms of alchemy. Envy is therefore useless and, consequently, sulks.

— Keep yourself busy! says Edward, annoyed.

— And to do what?

— You didn't spend your life... Alphonse jokes, before pulling himself together.

— Killing people? adds Envy cruelly. No, but I can't go out and have fun, and you'll have to excuse me, but in your remote corner, leisure activities are quite limited. I don't understand your books. Either they're about alchemy, and that pisses me off, or they're about anatomy, medicine, biology, or even fucking cooking, and I'm sorry, but it's a shitty library. I'm bored.

— You're bored! the brothers finally realize.

Finding leisure activities in Envy had proven to be an ordeal. There was nothing to read at home but scientific and technical books. Envy had trashed the entire library, opening every book, flipping through a few pages, scratching at the covers. They had rummaged through the bedside tables, the study, and even Winry's workshop. For lack of anything better, they just flipped through the self-help magazines, their eyes captivated by the glossy paper - a recent invention.

Edward and Alphonse had ordered a shipment of fiction and history novels from them - at Central's expense. In the order form, they had claimed to want to test their comprehension and invention skills. You bet. Envy had simply rummaged through the still-warm wooden crates, tossing the tomes around, spreading their disaster out into the hallway. Grandma Pinako had taken several of them, imitated by Winry. In the evening, only Envy was left, chaotically reading a line or a paragraph, without really enjoying it.

— I never had time to read a book, they said sadly. Bad habits...

The sonophone had been a success. A little too much, even. Envy and Grandma Pinako spent hours in the living room, one sprawled on the floor, the other slumped in her rocking chair. To combat the noise from the adjacent workshop, they would turn the sound as loud as possible. Envy remained there, their belly offered to the world, their legs carelessly spread out on the wall, all dedicated to listening. Edward and Alphonse had to step over them.

— Father hated noise and distractions. We were allowed newspapers only to read the news and report to him. No books, no music, nothing. And even then, we were from the time before the locomotive, music was at concerts, masses and sometimes in the pubs. Father said that it was a human thing, a racket, a waste of time, but it kept him busy...

The simpler, the better. Envy could draw. Better than Edward - not that it was difficult - or Alphonse. Better than simple diagrams, sketches, circles. From their ability to transform themself, Envy had gained another talent: they could represent bodies, faces, shapes. More than just their appearances, they knew how to capture their essence. They made Winry pose for hours on end, for her great pleasure. Even the old woman was ready to play.

And then, there were better than pencils, books, and music.

There was Miette.

— If you take them in the morning, the doctor promised it would work!

Alphonse finally triumphed. Edward agreed to start taking antihistamines and let a cat into their home. They found a baby at the city shelter, who immediately curled up on Alphonse's thighs. As soon as she arrived at the house, she hid under the sofa. She runs to the kibbles, fires under the cuddles runs in the shadows. She was not afraid of the dog, who kept a respectable distance, but of humans. Alphonse spent days trying to tame her. To no avail. After a week, while the kitten is hiding under the sofa where Envy is reading the newspaper, he breaks down.

— Have you really learned anything? Look at how we do it.

Envy kneels, slides under the couch, and wraps the cat between their palms. The animal allows them without protesting - only giving them a curious look. Envy sits down carefully on the carpet, with their back against the sofa. Miette finally responds to their caresses. Alphonse can't hold back a pout, and only then does Envy realize they can make others jealous. The kid's disappointment is noticeable, his empty hands too.

— You never have pets, right?

— No, Mom was allergic, like Ed, but there was no medicine for that yet. And the pets didn't really like Dad. I thought it would be the same for you, but...

— I'm cheating, cuts in Envy. I adapted my smell to make her feel better. But you don't need that stuff. I'll show you. You really aren't taught how to behave with other species...

(The basement was teeming with chimeras. Father did not care for them, disdaining them from the moment they were created. But someone had to feed them, take care of them, make sure they didn't mess up the corridors and get bored. Like all the dirty jobs, it had fallen to Envy.

Lust didn't like to get her hands dirty, and Glutonny tended to see the chicken before the hen. Envy, like Greed, had always enjoyed taking care of the chimeras. Greed, because he liked the devotion you could see in their big wet eyes. Envy, because they...

Envy was born that way: as a chimera before a stone was lodged in them. Envy had never understood why them rather than anyone else. They had abilities, of course. They could take over bodies, parasitize flesh, absorb their characteristics but otherwise? They had no memory of those first moments of life, Lust and Greed had told them everything and they weren't sure if they could or would believe them. That version of their birth may have been wrong, but it was the only one they had. Envy had been less than a beast: a creature. Formed, like homunculus, at the whim of their creators, against the laws of nature and the gods.

So yeah, Envy knew how to deal with animals).

They place the cat on Alphonse's thighs. He immediately squeezes, as if afraid Miette will slip.

— So, no, Envy growls. You're too agitated. You're scaring her. You and your brother seem to be permanently caffeinated...

— I can't adjust my moves anymore, now that... I always make them too big. I got used to being more... You know?

— I can understand that yeah. You're under too much stress, she's probably feeling it, and she's getting agitated.

— Can you talk to the animals?

Envy sits right up against Alphonse, almost surprised at their proximity. They had only known the kid under his armor shell. If he looks like Edward, down to the smallest details of his smell, his facial tics, the intonations of his voice, a young man is standing there. Envy scratches mechanically the head, the ears, the belly of the cat, while Alphonse remains stiff. Habits, perhaps.

- No. But I have learned to understand them. Calm down, and she'll calm down too.

Envy won't admit it, but the animal transformation had always been a pain in the ass. Their horses' teeth were way too long. Their dogs' eyes were way too bright. They acted as a predator, even in the form of the smallest prey.

They preferred cats, which were more like shadows than beasts, and allowed them to sneak around without attracting too much attention. At least cats were forgiven for being completely crazy, erratic, unpredictable.

When Lust and Greed went to dinner in town, they would slip into their bags or legs, curl up on their thighs, hide in their collars. They were still young. Cars didn't exist, radio was a novelty, newspaper ink was dripping on their fingers.

They miss those days more than they thought they would. The plan was only a distant horizon - it was time for births. Father was always calmer after one of their creations as if relieved of a weight. And, come on! The new baby could take any form! Lust and Greed could not believe it.

They walked them everywhere. Father still left them free to move around, encouraging them to mingle with humans, to find their weaknesses. Lust and Greed didn't give a damn. They liked restaurants, cafe terraces, the outskirts of concerts, summer nights, and the cellars of bars. They put on a coat, hit their marks, and walked into the crowds without anyone noticing them. Over time, Envy had come to take on human forms. They always regretted, without admitting it, those first moments.

— She's purring! enthuses Alphonse - too loud.

— She also needs time to get used to it. You have to learn to understand her way of communicating, and that will be fine. It works for animals and beasts.

— Ed is right, Alphonse murmures. You are calmer.

— You've only met me on the battlefields, Envy says. I've been around for two hundred years. I'm not a constant ball of nerves, unlike that other jerk. I'd be dead by now. Heart attack or something.

— I mean... do you really look like a human?

On another day, Envy would have spun around at that one comment. They would have taken on every possible shape, would have terrorized the kid, but he has seen it before. He has seen them in all its forms, right down to the first one.

— You know I haven't. It's so that I can transform myself into beasts. I've been on several missions like this. Nobody is suspicious of a stray dog or a cat. I understand a little bit. You are monstrous with animals. Kicking for nothing, poison, shooting, screaming... Even your pets, you treat them badly. I was watching a crazy guy who tried to grab me and cut off my ears and tail. I blew that mission. He got what he deserved.

— So, you're not human?

— No. The stone made me a homunculus. But then what are you, a tin can?

— I can understand, yes, Alphonse admits with a chuckle.

He takes his place on the carpet, his fists clenching under the effort.

— I would think that you would be more... crueler, with animals.

— No, no... Even the chimeras- I had some with me, in the tunnels. The ones that were really messed up. I took them for myself. You get pissed off quickly, especially when Lust and Greed are gone. Scar killed one, helping Marcoh escape. That almost pissed me off more than his escape. Almost.

— Can you talk to them?

— No. But I recognize the signs. You can do that too. I can cheat the scent, but I don't need this kind of magic trick to...

— You don't have a smell?

— With this body, no. But the animals, it bothers them. You must be aware of it, but you are not conscious of it.

— Yes, yes, admits Alphonse. My brain has trouble sorting out everything, filtering everything, so I notice it... Now that I can feel and... I had noticed.

— It's easier when we don't mix with you. It's your fault I'm going soft.

— I mean, I... You know what? I can understand what it feels like to be human but not totally. I was an object for years. But it was always me. You have what makes a human, a soul.

— A piece of a soul, Envy corrects.

— I mean, you're still here. Greed had his own life. You're the same, aren't you?

— He offered to take us with him, says Envy. We didn't tell Father about him. We thought he was just messing around. A little shit, with big talk. He'd been giving us that for years. We should have... Father almost melted us down, just to make sure we didn't do the same.

— Meltdown?

— Didn't you see the lava? Melt, yeah. He was getting our rocks back like that. And it erased our memories. I mean, that's what we thought: look at Greed... But the memories, that's all we had, just that. So, you keep them.

— Has it melted you yet?

— No. Lust would have told me. I've been the same since the beginning.

They won't say it either, but they thought they'd take their stone away. To annihilate all their memories, to end it all, to let another incarnation handle it. In two hundred years, they had time to get tired of it. They don't know why they didn't do it when they were stuck in the jar with the little one. Out of loyalty to Father? Not even anymore. They didn't want to die. They just wanted to get it over with. The idea didn't go away.

Envy doesn't admit it to anyone, especially not to Edward... When everyone is busy or asleep, they slip into the bathroom, closes the door, and takes on the appearance of Lust. They always avoided turning into their siblings. It was fun for a couple of seconds to drive Greed crazy or to taste for a moment the pleasure of being Führer. But there was always a bad taste in their mouth. Their siblings, as flawed as they were, were the only thing they really had.

Lust's death had ruined everything.

(Two centuries for a homunculus was still relatively young. They thought they could live like this for a long time, with their brothers and sister - always the same. Crossing the same faces over decades. Humans grew up, grew old, died. Envy saw Edward gain inches, muscle, and in his eyes, a new hardness as if the metal of his automail had gradually taken over the rest of his body. They hadn't counted the number of months that had passed since the promised day - it didn't matter much, now that there was no end in sight - but they had seen Edward's body change.

He shaves every morning. He has more blond hair on his arms, legs, and back. His jaw is more pronounced, his muscles harder, and his gestures calmer. For Alphonse, this was no longer a matter of course; it was a shock. The years had caught up with the teenager like a train hitting him in the face, and each day was a rediscovery. Even Winry had changed, more measured, more upright, more tired too. They had all lost the curves, the tenderness, the flaws that make adolescence and had entered full-fledged adulthood. Their bodies had finally caught up with their eyes.

Because damn it, the Elric brothers had never been able to be children.

Even Envy, who only knew about children from Pride's little game, could see that it would eventually cost them. They had wasted years of their lives among adults. Envy could understand they had been created and immediately put to work. They had understood, in time, why Pride insisted on doing his little childhood comedy every year. They could never be children. So, without saying it, Pride enjoyed all the bullshit. No God, no Promised Day, no blood. Nothing but the inconvenience of playgrounds, the boredom of algebra class, and a few pebbles in the knees when you slip up playing ball. Greed, Envy, and Lust would take the piss out of him - not too hard, Pride was touchy and most importantly, dangerous - but would have liked a taste of that).

Envy would be able to replicate every detail of their siblings. Even Sloth, who they had only really glimpsed through the years. Even Wrath, who has grown, changed, aged. They could reconstruct each of their ages. They could recreate the exact texture of Lust's hair, its silky sheen, right down to that corner behind her ear where she always had knots. They remember brushing their sister's hair mechanically, the times when it was fashionable to have straight hair and then curls, and then ornate headdresses and then hats.

They even remember all the clothes. Lust visited the dressmakers of Central, pretending to be a whole family to explain that age did not affect her: she had been the daughter, the mother, the grandmother, the aunt, the sister. She had loved the days of strict corsets, Poiret dresses, crinolines. It was up to Envy and Greed to dress her: putting on the socks, the petticoats, the metal whale pennant structures, the tightly glued corsets, the cotton shirts, the diamond rivers, and the ears she insisted on piercing every night before her stone regenerated the lobe.

They remember dragging Greed away from bar fights, sighing as he flirted with yet another conquest, sharing badly rolled cigarettes. They remember his ridiculous suspenders, his colorful socks, and his cursed passion for fur coats, their filthy smells, their masses. They don't remember what they said to each other, what they did. They were lost, troubled, blurry hours. They were the best.

— She didn't suffer, Alphonse suddenly promises.

— What? startled Envy. What's the matter with you?

— You... You were thinking about something, and I think... I think I know what you were thinking. I know you have to tell yourself... I didn't see, but Ed told me... She didn't suffer as you did. I promise you that.

— Were you there?

— Yeah. She managed to hurt Havoc. That's the guy who calls us from time to time. She messed up Mustang pretty well, and then he realized he could...

— Did it take long? insists Envy.

— No. She died smiling. She died telling Mustang that one day his face would be deformed by pain.

Amazed, Envy smiles:

— Fuck, that's just like her. A bitch. You wouldn't have stood a chance if she was still with us.

— How old was she?

— About three hundred, I think. She was the second of us to be born. I don't know why Father split up with her before me...

— Were you close?

— As close as you and Ed.

— Seriously? Alphonse hiccupped.

— A little differently, obviously. We put up with each other for centuries. She could be insufferable. A real bitch. She should have run off with Greed. We should have run off with Greed. She was just obsessed with Father, she was... His best little soldier.

— I didn't think you guys had...

— A relationship? We were a family, too. And then we didn't have the luxury of socializing too much. We were kind of stuck with each other.

(They even miss Greed. They refuse to admit it to themselves, but they don't sleep. They watch Edward sleep and wonder how the kid does it. The truth is that Edward is having some pretty bad nightmares. He's screaming, banging on the mattress, grabbing the vacuum. Envy has to slide off the couch several times to avoid getting hit and stays curled up against him for hours, waiting for his breath to subside and for him to stop crying. Envy would have gladly taken the piss out of him if it weren't for all the begging voices in their head).

— I thought you'd want revenge, Alphonse admits.

— That was Lust's thing. Revenge, I mean. She died when we still had a chance... Well, a chance... We would have ended up absorbing in Father. Pride ate Glut. Father ate Greed. We would have all eaten each other, like that fucking...

They slam their ouroboros, through the fabric of their pants.

— Tired. Someone tried to kill me. I tried to kill myself. Circle of life. Tired.

— I can relate. Better than Ed. Not just the body stuff but-

— The rest?

— The rest. It takes time.

— I'm immortal. That should do it.

Chapter Text

Edward screamed in his sleep.

Envy leaped awake, almost reflexively forming a blade from their arm. Rushing to the bed, they found only Edward there, gripped with pain. No wound, just pain.

— Impressive.

It is the granny on the doorstep, pointing their arm. Envy reforms a human limb, mechanically cracking their fingers.

— Was it real metal?

— Imitation, they mumble as they approach the bed.

Edward has his face buried in the pillow, his white knuckles clenching, his face in torment. He seems miles away, his body like a shell where only pain would have accumulated. His fists grab his leg, clawing at the metal, his nails almost breaking. Envy doesn't dare touch him, doesn't dare shout to wake him up. They don't know how it works.

(Envy knows about nightmares, though. But they are not theirs. It's the others, their pleas, their cries, suddenly bursting into silence. A din born of stone, a whole crowd in their brain. Yet Edward is alone in his head, in his flesh.)

— I'll take care of it, the old woman intervenes. We're used to it.

— What do you mean, used to? snaps Envy, their eyelids still sticky from sleep. Does he do this often?

The old woman advances with studied prudence, her small steps sliding on the carpet. The house is almost disturbingly quiet - as if used to resounding Edward's cries. The countryside outside simply rustles in the summer breezes. It is late, far too late, and yet Edward cries in his sleep. Not tears of pain, tears of rage, tears of grief. No, big, heavy, sticky, childish tears.

— Every night. Ed? Ed... There...

Edward jerks upright, fist forward, knuckles shaking. The old woman barely reacts, combing the locks that stick to his face. Envy remains frozen.

— Ed, you're home. It's all right.

Edward doesn't care. This man, whom Envy has seen punch a god, cries like a little kid, tiny in his grandmother's arms. In other times, Envy would have laughed. They would have pretended that this suffering was a pleasure for their ears and eyes, his tears an appetizer, his sorrow a joy. Pitiful, pitiful, why cry for sorrows without a scar, why cry for things you can't change anymore? Only, Envy wasn't too sure they could mock it anymore - or even wanted to.

— Ed?

— I can't take it anymore, I can't take it anymore, Edward cries. Is this going to be like this all my life, all my life? I thought it would stop! Why won't it stop! It hurts, it hurts so much...

— I'm sorry, Ed. I'm so sorry. I got you... Take this, okay? Just for the first few nights. It'll get easier, I promise.

She slips some small pills into his hand. Edward stares at them, his eyes immensely white.

— They are sleeping pills. No more. You need to rest.

— What's going to happen to me? murmurs Edward.

— Ed, we're here, okay? Al's here. He's okay. He's sleeping in the next room. We're here for you. You can let go of the pressure, Ed, we're here.

— I'm afraid to go back to sleep, he says quietly.

— You're not going to have a nightmare with that.

Wrong. But he won't remember it when he wakes up. Envy knows this because they have long envied human medicines. Some things, their stones don't cure they make them worse.

— You can stop being strong, Ed. That's why we're here.

— I'm afraid this is all a dream, I'm afraid all of this will be taken away from me too.

— You can't, Ed. You earned this on your own. Even if it were taken from you... you'd find it again. We'll always be here, always. Now, darling, take these pills and get some rest. It will get easier, I promise.

It took Edward several minutes to fall back asleep, knocked out by the medicine. Without really knowing why Envy follows the old woman out onto the patio. She gets out her usual smoking pipe, Envy, their cigarettes.

— It's not going to get any easier. You're lying to him.

— I know I am. I said what he needed to hear... This winter, it will be ten years.

— Ten years since...

— Ten years since he and Al tried to bring their mother back to life. Since then, they've never had a minute's peace, nothing. Al couldn't cry at all... and Ed, only at night. I know he avoided it because Al couldn't and... Can you cry?

— Of course, I can, Envy says. It's a natural and necessary process. Not having it...

— I can't cry. Not since my children died. Ishval. They were killed by this man... It's strange to know that the man who destroyed part of my life is just a few miles away. Ed told me that this man lost his family, his brother, and his brotherhood. He was a monk. Maybe he still is. Another day... I could have sympathized with this man. I could have cried... Edward and Al saw so much. Al has cried a lot, too, but he doesn't have nightmares yet. It will come back, little by little. It's necessary. Not for me. I think that part of me is dead.

— People like Ed and Al end up going crazy. It's not possible to live with all this, to-

— Ed and Al are incredibly brave. Ed learned how to use his automails in one year, just one year... It takes three, for adults. I don't know anything about alchemy, but you do, so you must know... Saving his brother's soul, binding it to an object... Eleven years! Eleven years... My granddaughter couldn't be a child either. She saw it all when they came to our house that night. I didn't think to cover her eyes. She saw... Ed and Al lost their mother, their father too... Hohenheim pretended to do this for them but... He didn't even get to say goodbye to Trisha. He wasn't there for them... And what a life they've had, those ten years...

— They should never have joined the army. It was messed up enough in their heads-

— I thought when they got their arm back, and Al their body... It's already so much! That's all they wanted, everything. To really be together again. But it's not enough to forget. For you too, right?

— For me, it's been much longer. I did worse than them. I saw worse. I did. They saw.

— All the same... Your father died recently, didn't he?

— What?

— Al told me that your father died, the day he was promised, like Hohenheim. That they were related.

— It's more complicated than that, Envy frowns.

— You never talk about it. Or not in a good way. You're like Ed or Al. For Winry, it's easier. They died as heroes...

— My father didn't die a hero's death, Envy says flatly.

— My children died instead of fleeing the battlefield. They made a bad decision to sacrifice themselves. They became martyrs. We get flowers for them, fruit, letters of thanks from the people they saved. I would have preferred that my children come back home... Your father... I can tell by the look on your face that you don't really miss him.

— No, I don't.

Envy prefers not to insist. The old woman takes her pipe from her pocket and lights a cigarette, previously rolled and hidden in a small metal box. Envy recognizes in it the coat of arms of an old merchant family, who exported from the South spices, tobacco leaves, tea leaves, ivories, carpets, and all those things that humans love. Envy vaguely wonders what it's like to travel outside Armestris. Really travel, not conquer, not colonize, not invade. They knew this country before the empire. They knew Ishval as prosperous and this country as small.

— You didn't go back to sleep, the old woman said, her words heavy with smoke.

— He shouted too loudly, scolds Envy. Pathetic. I didn't think he could be so weak, so...

— You should go back to him.

— I couldn't get back to sleep, Edward smiles weakly as Envy slipped into the room.

— The old lady said the meds would be enough, Envy mumbles as they slide onto their couch, adjusting the sheets.

— It'll take a few minutes, though... I'm having trouble with the dark now. Since... you know.

— Oh. So, were we, you know? He was watching us, more than you, borderline, especially after Greed's betrayal. Lust slept with her door caulked, so there were no lights.

Envy doesn't even know they are saying all this. Maybe because they have no one else who understands what it's like to coexist with super-powered beings?

(Perhaps, because when they tell it, their brothers and sister who died without leaving ashes or graves, still exist. They exist not as an extension of another or an accumulation of others. They are beings in the same way as Alphonse, as Winry, as the old woman. Envy doesn't care that Al and Ed saw their siblings die, that Al heard Lust's last words as well as Glut's, that Edward ripped Pride's stone out, that they pushed Sloth into the snowy peaks of Gribbs, that they found Greed after a century of hiding, that they heard them die enough times to... It will always be better than silence.)

— Envy, you're a sin, right?

Envy is almost startled. It is worse than a blow. For a moment, just a tiny moment, Envy feels a wave of crazy anger rising, it overflows from their belly, it's going to hit in their fists, their teeth. They are ready to strike. And then they inhale, exhale. They can't afford to crack. They will be killed, immediately.

(That is stupid, but Envy no longer believes themself capable of hurting Edward. Even a little bit.)

— Charming? Envy finally snaps.

— No, but you're... Shit, I'm explaining this wrong, you... You're a part of Father, originally. You're a part of him, of his feelings, that he got rid of too, well, get rid of, separate, to accomplish his goal, right?

— Yes?

— And you're just envy?

— That's my name, loser. You want me to give you my dying speech again, is that it? What better way to humiliate me, you...?

— Then why do you desire?

— I don't desire, I just... What's your point?

— Why are you greedy? Not just for food, but I've seen you, being curious, being greedy for sensation, being... You try to sleep, taste, baths, showers, clothes, the... Why would you do all this if you were just jealous?

— I don't know! Go to sleep, damn it, you're delirious.

— You're angry too. And you're lazy. You're sensitive, maybe because you're jealous of humans, I don't know, but what I mean is... This jealousy is your heart, your motivation, but there is everything else... You never told yourself that you were... Look at Greed. He had his own life for a while. You are creatures, humans, people in your own right.

— What are you implying here?

— You weren't born as humans like me, from someone. You live by a stone, not a heart, and you are made of many people, of... How many are you in?

— I already told you NOT TO ASK THAT QUESTION!

— You see? he notes simply, straightening up and coming to sit on the couch, right next to Envy. Anger. You're as much a part of this as I am a part of the Elric family. You're past jealousy. You're somebody.

Envy doesn't know how to respond. They have not learned to be able to answer. They have learned to deceive, to dominate, to manipulate, to infiltrate. They are not someone. They are something. Gluttony is the door. Lust is the spear. Greed is the shield. And are they? The one who infiltrates the ranks of humans? The one who carries the secret, terrible jealousy of their father? They have not had the time, nor the possibility to ask themselves the question. Faced with Edward's surgical honesty, his piercing gaze, they feel like an idiot.

— And?

— Shit, but you could have a reaction anyway!

Envy kicks him in the solar plexus, sending him tumbling to the ground.

— Is that a reaction for you? they bark.

— But are you two hundred years old or twelve? threatens Edward from the floor. And be a little more discreet, damn it, Al and Winry are probably still sleeping!

— I don't get it, okay? You're thinking like a human! I'm NOT a human!

— No! And you never will be! But you look like us, you look enough to like us too... Envy, this is what you wanted. You can't pretend I didn't hear that.

Envy finally agrees to unfold those long limbs and comes to lean on the edge of the couch.

— I don't want to talk about it.

— We'll have to, eventually. It's important to you. Did you...

— I tried to kill myself after I said it! It was for a reason, they scold. And I would have succeeded if you hadn't come along and interfered. For what, huh? So that I become your little animal in the jar? So that you can study me since that's all you have to do? You should have let me do it, let me finish. Pride is nothing. Father is dead! The others are dead. Even Hohenheim is dead! What am I doing here?

— I promised.

— Promises can be broken. A good war and this...

— You don't have to pretend anymore.

Edward comes to sit beside them, his weight digging into the mattress. Imperceptibly, Envy slides down. Just a little bit closer. They still feel where Edward had placed his palms. Not like a burn. But almost. They can't remember the last time someone had touched them without hitting them afterward.

— I wasn't pretending. Stop seeing me as... I liked it, is that so crazy for you? You can't get that through your head? You're friends with Mustang and Hawkeye and Scar and... Mustang liked killing me. He liked killing Lust. They liked to commit war crimes, like me, and again, you know I can count the deaths I caused? Count them on the fingers of one hand. I don't like to fight. But of course, I enjoyed the rest... You'll have to digest it. Not just so you can look me in the eye, kid. All these people around you, they're murderers.

— I know.

Edward's palm finds their knee. Envy doesn't push him away. They wonder if this kind of thing comes naturally to him.

— Prisoner of war, then, Envy mumbles, scratching their chest mechanically.

Under their fingernails, they feel the familiar throbbing of the stone and all that is born around it. They could still pull it off. Edward grabs their wrist, a little too quickly.

— Please...

— What? ticks Envy.

— Don't go. I'm afraid I won't find you again one morning.

Envy releases their wrist - a little too quickly there too.

— Like I have a choice?

— You're not a prisoner here. If you wanted to leave...

— Yeah? Envy snaps. I can run away, through the fields? And where do I go? What do I do? Wait for the other freak to come and finish it off? No. Might as well be useful. You want to study me, right? Like your father did with Father?

They bring their knees to their chest, resting the tip of their chin on them. Edward's palm hasn't moved: they can feel its contours under their breath, under their bone. It echoes with each of their breaths.

— You can go, Edward repeats.

— And go WHERE? I've been waiting for the promised day for two centuries, now I don't know what to do, is that okay? I've been given orders, directives all my life, like a fucking dog, and now...

— If you wanted to run away, we'd help you, Edward repeats firmly. We're keeping you here for your safety. But if you want to run away... You don't owe us anything.

— Yes, I do. And you know it. I can't, and I won't!

(Envy never had friends, relatives, family: not real ones, anyway. It was under one of those masks, one of those names, one of those lies. 

Envy may be able to change at will, they had a face, a body. They only modified the details, as one erodes with time: a form of old age. But for now, they still have the same face, the same name, known only to their family and now to their enemies.

It's stupid - it's so stupid - but to be called by their name, to be recognized, to have their transformations not be a surprise or a betrayal but a part of their existence... It will never have the complexity of their relationship with their siblings, but it has something of the kind. Divine.)

Chapter Text

More and more, Envy wakes up in Edward's bed. They don't talk about it. It's best not to.
— It's late. You can still get some sleep, Edward tells her from his side of the bed.

(You don't want to think about that either).

Envy feels around mechanically. The night slides into the room, covering the floor, the beams, the lime walls with the same bluish tint. Only contrast, at Edward's side, the unique gas bedside lamp. A familiar scent wafts from it, right in the cool air.
Edward still has his notebook in his hand, scribbled clumsily - he still has trouble with his right hand, he had confessed a few days earlier. It's weakened, tired, resilient, and he and Al go to the village doctor twice a week to train their newfound limbs. That doesn't stop Edward from straining his muscles by writing like a madman.
— What the hell am I doing in your bed?
— We were talking, I started writing, and you fell asleep.
— Was it that boring?
— You're just rusty, sneers Edward.
— You can talk, Envy snaps, sitting up.
They should get out of bed, but they are fine.
— You can stay, cuts in Edward. Alphonse went to the physio. He said he would come back with some rolls. We're waiting for him to eat.
— It's dark, notes Envy.
— Winter.
— Already?
— Envy, this is our second winter here.
— Time doesn't flow the same, Envy grumbles. Your years are months.
— You're the one who got rusty, yeah.
— Fuck you. At least I can take a bath without having to stick my foot in a plastic bag.
Envy drops back into the bed, sinking into the covers and pillows. They feel at least as soft as they do. Edward is surprisingly warm, soaking the sheets and the room.
Envy hardly notices that Edward leaves the bed and goes to his desk, where he keeps his medicines, creams, and sleeping pills. He takes out his little jar of cream and, as he has done every morning for almost a year and a half, spreads it on his scars. He does not know when he started doing it - or why. Probably when he understood that he was going to live and that this skin would be there forever. No one would come and take it away from him.
Now that Alphonse is healed, Edward cannot ignore his terrifying perfection. Nothing marks his skin when Ed's own is devoured by scars. Their history is written on its surface as if to prevent them from forgetting and lying. Alphonse, on the contrary, has nothing. It's almost crueler.
Every day, Edward spreads the cream on his scars. They will never disappear completely, but already they are looking more pastel, more tender, more-
An icy hand slides down his back.
Edward PUNCHES, sending Envy tumbling to the ground. The floor groans, begs, and a few boards crack under the impact, but Envy doesn't let out a sound. Eyes wide, mouth agape, they stare at Edward.
— What the hell!
— I- Shit, I'm sorry! I'm not used to it, I-
— Liar! Envy snarls, sitting up cautiously. You spend all your time cuddling your brother like your horny teenagers! And the same with the old lady and Winry! It's because it's me, that's all.
— It feels weird, yes! admits Edward. I thought that-
— If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now, with your head in the toilet, threatens Envy.
— No, I didn't think you were going to hit me. I have- Bad habit, okay? So many people have tried to kill me, including you that-
— Hey! I had no right to kill you. The ultimate sacrifice, remember?
Edward holds out a hand hesitantly.
— I'm sorry, insists Edward, attempting a weak joke. I should be used to being touched... Between the fights and my operations... It's like it's not really my body.
Envy sits down on the bed, digging into the mattress with that simple gesture. They don't even scoff in return, simply observing Edward's torso. He looks like he's been chewed up by a monster. If Envy asked, Edward could easily explain. When he was healing at the hospital, next to Alphonse, he hadn't dared to ask too much. His ribs cracked, his spine weakened by blows and years of supporting the weight of automails, his nerves nibbled with phantom pain.
Edward is in pain on rainy days, on days before the rain - every day, in fact. All it takes is not doing his stretching exercises, sleeping in the wrong position, or using one of those muscles too hard, and he claims he needs a nap.
Neither Al nor Envy are stupid. They can see Edward's dark circles, those long nights when he pretends to sleep but keeps his eyes open, staring at the ceiling, and the tension in his muscles, his white knuckles, his teeth clenched to a grind. Envy hates pain. No matter how quickly the stone heals them: any pain is intolerable. They have accumulated over the years: no scars, no wounds, no edges, but they still feel them, bouncing in their bones, pushing their muscles, drowning their lungs. They feel the pain as they hear the souls locked inside them: a background noise, which one learns to ignore with the years but which, at night, becomes intolerable.
— Please don't tell Al or Winry.
— They saw it, didn't they? Your mechanic, she-
— No, she didn't. I'm always careful to wear a gown, a shirt. I don't want- I don't want them to see this. Please.
— They'll see it eventually. And they know it. You and your brother weren't related? He must have sensed it, right?
— Sense what?
Envy slides a hesitant finger over the rosebud scar. Squinting just right, it looks like a flower blooming on the edge of her belly and a few shy inches away, on her back, the same petals.
— Briggs. Almost died from it. He told me he had been more afraid for me than for himself. I don't want him to see it. He thinks it's healed, that it was mostly the shock that- But I almost bled to death and- I still have problems with my stomach. It went right through my intestines. I was pretty lucky that I didn't go into septic shock or- I don't want him to see.
— Is there any from me?
— There's some from lab 5. You had broken one of my ribs. There are some from the operation, for the automail. We had to reopen some of them to fit my prostheses, and- I'll skip the details. The ones on my arm- They won't go away. I got my arm back, but they're still there, and we had to remove some of the metal parts that were still there and- It wasn't really pleasant. I have one on my forehead too. It keeps opening.
— Because you're fighting all the time, idiot. Do you miss it?
— No, admits Edward. I have less anger. I- I need to be calmer.
— Liar, Envy simmers.
— Calm. And then-
— Good habits die hard. It's crazy, it's-
Envy stands up, cautiously approaching Edward. In the warm gloom, emanating from their bedside lamp, those Xerxian features stand out even more. The warm undertone of his skin, like the deserts that pressed against the capital. That glow in his eyes, in his locks, even in his knotted back. A golden glow - apropos for an alchemist.
— Can I see?
— Why? It's- It's ugly.
— I could practice making them for myself, like this, Envy lies.
— Making fake scars? Edward takes offense. Enjoy not having them!
— Could be useful.
Envy struggles to understand what is ugly. It took Lust to explain to them that wrinkles, cellulite, scars, spots, pimples, messed up teeth, broken noses were not only physical characteristics but defects. Big deal! Lust had also warned them about overly matte skin and all those other incomprehensible details that together made them an enemy. Even in uniform, a body that was too dark attracted spitting, insults, even violence.
Envy thought that humans simply felt, without realizing it, that homunculi were not like them. It had taken them many years to find the fundamental differences: did they not sweat enough? Maybe their breathing was too far apart? Or was it their pores? The impeccable smoothness of their skin? The suspicious cleanliness of their nails and teeth? The other homunculi had smells, though! But they all shared this suspicious perfection, one that only statues possess.
Envy was trying to add dimples, folds at the corners of the smile, a few pimples under the skin, as one allows a few lumps in a pancake batter. They had dived into the omnibuses and the first subways to better study the damage of pollution, soot, fatigue, sweat, mud, cigarettes, and rain on the bodies. They imitated as best they could their defects to which the homunculi were not entitled. But the scars?
Wrath was collecting them. His siblings were fascinated by this new skin, their changing colors, pink, burgundy, yellow, blue, the pus that sometimes escaped, the blood that clotted painfully, and years later, the wound remained. Envy will only age if they want to - and even then, for fake.
— How old are you? notes Envy.
— Twenty. I've told you before, but you keep forgetting.
— I don't care, Envy admits with a raised eyebrow. What does twenty mean?
— What does that mean?
— Age means something, right? Does it mean anything to you?
— Yes. Alphonse is turning 18 this year. That's- That's amazing. We're both men.
— Why? Did you use to pretend?
Edward takes a bit of cream and spreads it on the constellation that slightly bulges his torso, distended on his shoulder, his new arm, bouncing above his collarbone. This one is more painful: the metallic elements got infected with this new arm - as if it were a parasitic element. Edward was hooked on painkillers for days.
It was still the beginning - shit, but how much time has passed? How many seasons? Outside, it was snowing. Envy had been ordered to watch him in case he got nauseous and choked on his vomit. Envy stood at the end of the bed and never turned off the bedside lamp. They didn't know what could kill a human. They had died too many times to know the precise boundaries of death. So, they had just stayed awake, their eyes gaping, worrying about a shiver or a nightmare.
— They can always open again, Edward mumbles.
Edward absentmindedly pulls his hair back into a ponytail, slips some cream on his fingers, and covers his most recent scars with it. Envy steps aside. They hadn't felt themself getting this close.
— I've never seen one this close.
— I thought you lived with humans. Did you tell us that, right?
Envy squeaked, remembering exactly that afternoon when Alphonse had asked them if homunculi and humans could have sexual contact - as Havoc had implied on the phone. Edward had choked on his coffee, and Envy had come this close to breaking their promises. They had confessed, through clenched teeth, that only them, his sister, Greed and Wrath indulged in such games. Their sister and brother, with the same joy they put in drinking, smoking, fighting. Wrath, for marital love - a concept so disgusting that none of his siblings would talk about it or even dare to think about it. Envy... Envy had refused to answer.
— Yeah, Envy mumbled. None of them had a scar. So, I don't know about that.
— The scars are desensitized. You can- I wouldn't feel it. Do you want to see my automail?
Edward takes off his linen pants, folding them carefully, and comes to rest his leg on the chair. The joints have been oiled and adjusted recently. He is no longer growing, and the process is now much less painful - Unless he just got used to the pain.
— They are all different colors.
— Some were really ugly. The worst ones were the older ones. We had trouble finding the dosages, and it got infected- And then the drains when you're a kid- I couldn't- I think I wouldn't do it again if they offered it to me now.
Without thinking about it, Envy caresses the outline of the mechanics, looking for where the skin resists the metal, browns, hardens. It seems to want to extract the metal parts from his flesh. For the past few weeks, they had been spending time in Winry's and the old woman's workshop - the foundry scares them less than before - and working on imitating the metal. Winry uses them to test her prototypes, as Envy can connect and reconnect their nerves to the machines. They train themself to break down the mechanisms and cogs of the automatons, as they already do for human components. The brothers are fascinated. Envy doesn't understand much about it. It's an instinct. Not for metal: it requires training, hindsight, curiosity, resilience - qualities they haven't used in a long time. So, they have work to do: they have to look differently at things, question flesh itself and observe. They don't even realize that it's weird, that they shouldn't be stroking Edward's thigh like this, that they should be so close that their breath makes their fine golden hair dance, that his muscles tense under their palm, that they can smell every nuance of Edward's scent.
And then their hand comes up, and only then do they realize.
— Al has to be there, they pull away.
Edward bolts out of the room, almost fast enough for Envy not to notice he's blushing.
— Well, shit.

Chapter Text

They fall backward on the mattress, forgetting to balance their weight for a moment. The slats groan, creak, bend a little.

— Oh, fuck it.

Edward comes to lie beside them, barely holding back a laugh.

— There's nothing funny about that, Envy snaps.

— Really, nothing, he manages to articulate between his swollen cheeks.

— Kid.

— Monster.

— They are long gone, your great sentences about my humanity.

— Lizard. No. Worm.

— Blasphemy.

Envy doesn't admit it to themself, Edward doesn't either, but they've never been this close without fighting with each other. This warm proximity, where their smells mingle, is new. Envy froze.

Never had that before. The rare moments of complicity were with Lust and Gluttony, more rarely Greed before that asshole abandoned them. They pretended to talk about plans, strategies. Their exchanged words were light, without value. Only proximity counted, Lust perched on Gluttony's round and sweaty back, Greed in the shadows, pretending not to listen but dropping a few peaks, a few sighs.

An ersatz of what the Elric brothers, Winry, and the old lady do every afternoon. When it's too hot to go out, they close the shutters, take out tubs of fresh water from the icebox, slip lemons, and let themselves drift in this preliminary space dominated by heat and boredom. They read, discuss, doodle. 

Winry works on his mechanics, examines bolts, catalogs, and plays with the joints of an automail. Alphonse is still sensitive to any change in temperature. He stays on the couch for hours. Not even for pain. No, he revels in that familiar burn, the weight of summer, the crackle of the cicadas, the rustle of the wind. It drives Envy crazy. They don't feel the heat like they do. They used to find it a mark of their superiority, but they are suddenly jealous. They want to know. They imitate the others, hoping to be discreet. 

Missed.

Edward notes each of their movements, their gestures, their little novelties. Several times, Envy snatched the notebook from his hands, furiously rereading his notes. In vain. Edward code, in the form of travel journals. Envy doesn't understand but pretends to. Edward could easily translate it to them. He doesn't, enjoying Envy's anger. Just a bit.

— So, doctor, how am I doing? they tease, their eyes lost in the limestone swirls and beams of the ceiling.

— You're calmer.

— I'm bored.

— That's not true.

— I am idle. Abandoned. Adrift.

— What, you want to help me do the laundry?

— No way, grins Envy.

— Fine, you can help me fix the roof. We'll start tomorrow. I hope you know how to use a hammer for something other than breaking skulls.

— I told you, Envy corrects dryly. I don't like fighting. And I'd be able to break your roof by climbing on it.

— Liar. You control your weight and appearance. You're just lazy- Here. There you go.

— I have to make up for the death of my siblings, Envy mumbles absentmindedly, not quite sure if this is a joke.

Edward turns around, chin on his hands, and stares at Envy. They hate it. They had gotten used to no one looking at them, and now every day, they have to endure meals together, moments together. When they finally do get away, it's for Edward to chase them. Why does Edward spend so much time with them?

— Are you watching me?

— No.

— Then why don't you spend more time with your mechanic friend or the tin can?

— Because I know them and, unlike you, they are not my responsibility.

— Ah. I know. I'm way too interesting.

— Yes.

— Don't stroke my ego. You might not be able to keep up.

— Pride, Edward adds with a light tone.

— Your little demonstration is starting to piss me off. What's missing?

— Lust.

Envy rolls the words around in their mouth, in their belly.

— I'm surprised I haven't caught you with your girlfriend yet, by the way... 

Envy breaks eye contact.

— Winry is like my sister. I thought I was in love, but it's- A childhood crush?

— Should I remind you how old you are?

— I grew up with her. I survived a lot of things with her. And I could build a life with her, I think, but- We talked about it, both of us and- It's not possible. All the things we've been through, it's brought us together but also. We couldn't create a life out of this. We're already a family. Now we need... We need to explore and...

— That'll be two hundred bucks, scoffs Envy.

— Oh, don't act like you don't like gossip. Especially that. I know you were thinking about it. Maybe you can stop glaring every time she comes near me. She's noticed.

— You're imagining things.

—I’m studying you.

— Well, you suck at observation. And you don't have to worry. Winry is not my girlfriend. Well, she's not my fiancée anymore.

— Did I ask you?

— Cut the bullshit for a second, will you? I'm trying to be honest. I- I saw that you were jealous.

— Curious, Envy corrects. So? Tell me about the failure that is your love life?

— I thought we'd end up together. Everyone did. All the time. Even Mom... That's what should have happened, but like everything else... It went to shit. At first, it was good. We understood each other. We've known each other since we were kids. But, when I came back, I understood that it was really not going to be possible.

— But when did all this happen?

—We decided a few weeks ago. We got engaged before the day we were promised, but from the first moment, from... We felt it wasn't going to work. Winry wants...

— Wait, so when I was sleeping in your room, you were still engaged?

— Yes. Didn't you see, on her finger-

— The little discolored circle? Did you? But that's the thing... 

— Winry wants to finish her apprenticeship, open her workshop, and work. She wants the country to be rebuilt, to be able to live in peace... I thought so. I thought I wanted a quiet life. I must be like my father... I want to go back. To travel. When Al gets better, when I learn to defend myself without chemistry, I'll go back.

Envy tries to suppress the anguish that suddenly saws through her gut.

— We'll find a way, Edward adds at once. I promise you. Winry... This isn't her thing. I need to discover, to move, to be able to really enjoy my travels-

— And without chemistry?

— Exactly! Edward rejoices. It's so different, so much more dangerous, more exciting! Winry thinks I should be more careful. I'm still a cripple, with a metal leg, and I can't swim, can't cross the desert, can't cross the mountain... I need regular check-ups, and with all the beatings I've taken... And it's not just that I want to move, to live... I've just got too much, too many things in my head. I'm so angry all the time. I try to do like Al, meditate, do sports, work but- I would have liked- I don't know. It was too much. I would have liked to do things better, to save more people, and she doesn't understand. She's happy that we're here, alive, whole. It's enough for her, it's over but me... It will never be over. What I've seen, it's going to follow me all my life, and I want to do better. I want to fix it, I want to... I want to do more. She doesn't understand.

— You're just twenty years old, Envy mumbles. 

— And then there's one thing... one last thing.

Envy moves closer, pretending to be barely interested.

— I've suspected this for a long time, for as long as I can remember, I think. But I tried to grit my teeth and let it go. I told myself it would eventually pass. There was so much going on. It was like poison. I would get rid of it. It wasn't me. It was one of the consequences of all the mess in my life, and then it would be okay.

Envy's eyes dart to Edward's wrists:

— What? he exclaims. No, it didn't! No... It hurt, but not that much.

— But what is it, then? insists Envy.

— I don't like women. I told Alphonse that already. He's the one who helped me put it into words. I thought it was normal. And then I talked with him, and I realized that it wasn't that at all, the... He, what he feels, it's... It's going to be complicated, he sighs.

— Why?

Lust had already told him about the little boxes that humans liked to fuck themselves into, that the law required them to check.

— I'm... I'm homosexual, Edward stammers.

— What does that mean?

— Didn't you... Didn't you hear?

— No. Is that a new word?

— Oh, no, it's from 1886, I think... At least, according to my research. But people don't use it too much. At least not in everyday life.

— What does that mean? What's wrong with you? Sounds like a diagnosis.

— I like men.

— I'm not a man, Envy replies mischievously.

— I'm not a man.

— And not a woman either.

— That's the problem.

— Charming. That can be arranged.

— Stop putting yourself in the center of the conversation for two seconds, will you? mumbles Edward.

— Okay, okay. So?

— I don't know how I'm gonna do it.

— They're not going to put you in jail for this, are they?

— Well, technically...

Envy's not stupid. They know it's not allowed. At least in the military. Both Lust and Greed had reminded them to be careful. Never approach a man when they looked like him. Never approach a woman when they look like her. Envy had been hissed at, insulted, threatened. They had had to come to grips with it, to pulverize jaws, to crush legs, to crush stomachs. Only, they had always associated this with their appearance, as if humans could feel, perceive that something was wrong.

— Indecent assault, Edward explained timidly. It's an old law, but no one wants to risk changing it. Your brother could have.

— Wrath didn't care about any of that. And then he was traditional, a broom up his ass, I was against taking in a military man, a human offspring at that... No wonder he let it happen. He just...

Suddenly, it hits them. Maybe Wrath knew. Maybe Wrath knew they were calling his sister a whore. Maybe Wrath knew that they were being spat on in the street and that one night, while they were trying in vain to get drunk, the cops had taken over the whole bar. They hadn't noticed that the men only danced with other men. They were even happy to see a little more originality in the clothes and attitudes. Lust had had to go to the police station and hadn't said anything to Father.

— The arsonist will change it, right?

— That would ruffle everyone's feathers. Not for a few years. At least, until the situation settles down. Besides, he's not married. People would think-

— And?

— And he could lose his job. Things like this kill careers, you know.

— No, admit it, Envy. I don't know your laws.

— I'll have to live in hiding. They'll probably let me if it doesn't get out too much. I'll have to be careful. Winry suggested a white wedding, just to be safe, and then a divorce when enough time has passed... They'd leave me alone.

— But they won't put you in a cage because of you... You prefer men, right?

— I can't love women.

— Can't love women, Envy mimics him, exaggerating his lamentations. 

— You can't understand.

— You say that to a prisoner of war, you loser.

— You can transform yourself and blend in with the crowd.

— Oh yeah? No ID? No money? No one? Without any skills? I can barely cook. I'd get fried in two seconds. I don't even have a last name! What do you want me to do? They'd find me in two seconds, and then...

They snap their fingers, their face distorted by anger.

— No more!

—You are under my protection, Edward reminds them gently. Under my protection and of Alphonse, too.

— No offense, kid, but you're going to get old and die.

Edward looks surprised - as if he had considered that now that his puberty was over, all he had to do was decay.

— I am immortal, insists Envy. That is until this stone runs out. Unless more is made, and I doubt it, I have a few decades left.

— My father was four hundred years old, Edward recalls softly. Do you think we're completely human? Me and Al? Maybe we'll live as long as you do.

— Maybe. You tell Al that he might have a hard time having kids, by the way. You, apparently, have the problem solved...

— Don't say that Edward groaned, burying his face in his hands.

He could have hit Envy, and it wouldn't have hurt so much.

— I take it back, they stammer.

They don't know how it works. Edward doesn't move an inch. Envy wants to shake him, no, punch him.

— Ed? Ed! At least react!

Why doesn't he get mad? He'd get mad for less. 

— Excuse me, damn it! Envy panics.

Edward lets his arm slip from his face. He has been crying. He's not even ashamed of it.

— I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't have my chemistry anymore. It made sense for me to make the sacrifice- But I don't have anything. 

— Don't be silly. You'll adopt a baby. Look at Wrath and Pride. At least adoption isn't illegal.

— And with whom?

— Oh, for fuck's sake, how old are you again? Let's just calm down.

— Al has Mei Chang!

— The poor thing, Envy comments, their teeth clenched until they give way. I never want to hear that little shit's voice again.

— She's coming next month, with Xing books.

— Well, I know when to kill myself.

— Don't even joke about it...

Decidedly. Talking with their brothers and sister was easy. They were never angry for long - or never enough to burst into tears in a second. They'd bicker, yell at each other, and then it was fine. They would move on. Humans seem to hang on to arguments, to words exchanged, to insults. Edward in particular.

— You told me not to die, and I still follow orders.

— Little soldier, hums Edward. You were also in the army, like me, in a way.

Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it.

— Can't you have children?

— No homunculus can.

— You'll end up killing everyone on this planet, then. And...

— And only Father would be left.

A god without a devotee. A god without an altar.

— He would have absorbed you?

— Surely. We come from Him. We return to Him.

— He was a father to you?

— Yes, He was. In every sense of the word.

— Do you miss Him?

— I miss Him as much as you miss your leg.

— I'm sorry.

— Liar.

— I'm sorry you came into the world like this, Edward corrects.

— You can talk. We're here because of the same bastard. 

- He saved you.

Father had left them to be burned alive, only a few feet away. Envy hadn't even expected Him to come. Only to return to Him on the promised day. They were Him - no, they were His.

— My kind dies with me, they conclude.

— Why are there only seven of you?

— No idea. Father could have populated this world with His children. It's not like He particularly liked us. Pride, kind of...

— Don't you wish you were human?

— We've been through this, Envy grumbles. He wanted us to be perfect.

— So why did He make a family?

— I don't know. He's dead. Who cares? He and Hohenheim, dust.

Not really. If Hohenheim is resting beside his wife, Father is a prisoner. Of what? They don't know.

And they don't want to know, thank you. 

Chapter Text

— May I? tries Alphonse.

Granny lands him a glass and pours generously.

— Slowly, slowly! exclaim Winry and Edward.

— It's okay, grumbles Alphonse. At worst, I'll throw up. I'm used to it now-

The old lady makes sure their drinks are full before adding :

— A wine from the year of your birth! Trisha had saved them for a special occasion. Alphonse, your year is better than Edward's, so we'll start with yours first.

— Hey! mumbles Edward. I'm sure they've aged better than Al's-

Envy looks curiously around the table. Winry doesn’t drink, she inhales. Alphonse mimic’s refinement, failing miserable and choking on the first sip.

— Envy, you don't drink, Edward remarks.

— It's excellent, the granny urges them. What, you can't drink? Is that a thing in your religion?

— What? In my re- No. I can't get drunk.

— You can't get drunk?

— How sad.

Edward immediately scribbles notes in his notebook. Envy resists the urge to snatch it out of his hands, slightly annoyed that one of their powers doesn't provoke applause.

— No, it's poison. You're poisoning yourself. I can't be sick, or allergic, or-

— So, you can't take drugs, Edward advances.

— Ed! the old lady snaps. They grow up so fast…

— No, it's poison, Envy says dryly.

— No wonder you're such a pain in the ass, Edward sneers.

Envy swivels towards him, ready to fight. It takes granny and Alphonse to separate them.

— Try it anyway, the old lady insists. It's not just drunkenness. It tastes good.

Envy gives in to a cautious sip.

— Poison.

— But then… tries Winry. Can you drink without ever getting drunk?

— I can't get drunk at all.

— I have an idea.

— And twenty shots! shouts Winry, grabbing Envy's glass and smashing it at their feet. Our champion wins! Waiter, another round, loser's choice!

The bar explodes with a roar of joy. The man in front of Envy collapses, vomiting into a wooden tray. Waiters whirr the taps under pressure, the sweet smell of beer fills the air, the crowd jumps up, glasses splash on the already sticky floor.

— Water, Envy begs, dragging themself to the bar. Coffee. Acid. Anything. I need to wash my mouth.

— You look like you're at the end of your rope, notes Edward, also climbing onto one of the bar stools.

— At the end of my lives, grimaces Envy. At least they're amused.

Winry triumphantly parades into the bar, waving the cash around, basking in the cheers.

— I thought you'd be a little more offended, Edward admits. I think it's impressive.

— Thank you, noble king, mumbles Envy.

— I saw you smiling when you beat those guys.

— I can't help it if I'm anatomically superior to you.

The waiter drops off a steaming cup of herbal tea, and Envy gulps it down, just as they downed the previous drinks. Not that they prefer chamomile, but it's at least more neutral than the sticky shit they have been filling their belly. They can feel their stone working, sparks tickling their stomach.

— I don't understand you, they admit. You like to hurt yourself, to destroy your organs.

— Cigarettes don't work either?

— No, it doesn't. I smoke, my lungs heal themselves, but the true point is to destroy. You never smoke.

— No, I don't. I was underage until recently, you know.

— And?

— And you can't drink or smoke until you're legal.

— So, they sent you to the battlefield, but you can't drink? Is that why Alphonse couldn't come?

— Yes, Winry is twenty, and so am I.

— Do you have a date of birth?

Envy seems fascinated, they lean closer still, and Edward wonders if he has not drunk too much.

— Yes, February 3. 1899. Hm- You, I guess not.

— 1738. Summer, I think. Father never told me, and since we're secrets, it's not like he keeps records. I've never been remade. Unlike Greed, that jerk.

Edward offers them a blank look, grabs his mug, and empties it all down his throat.

— What? Does that shock you? Wait a minute. Pride, it was the early 1600s, that's something! I'm still young and fresh-

— You'd be a skeleton if you were a human.

— I can fix this, Envy threatens.

— How long can you live?

— As long as my stone works. It takes energy, and the more I use my powers, the more I die, the closer I get to exhaustion.

— Just like Dad-

— I guess? I don't know when it will happen.

They thought they were going to die under Mustang's blows, and here they are.

— I don't either, Edward admits. Al and I don't know if- We don't know what Dad passed on to us if we're going to live longer if we're going to-

— And I'm the lab rat, teases Envy. Do your colleagues know that?

— They do now. It's a concern. We're the children of the man who caused all this, all this.

— I can understand that, Envy mumbles. But you have a choice.

— We might have to- We might have to leave the country. Al is planning to go to Xing. Now that we know the emperor- It helps with the papers. And me, in the West.

— What about me? Envy exclaims a little too loudly.

— It's safer if you go with me.

— Are we tied up, pipsqueak?

— No, you idiot. Al still has his alchemy. I don't have anything to defend myself.

— You want me to protect you?

— That's what you've been doing for years, isn't it?

— To prepare you for a sacrifice, you moron. I already told you that I don't like to fight.

— I need you. I can handle myself when it comes to fighting, but- Without alchemy, I'm nothing.

— Don't say that Envy grumbled. You've already beaten me up pretty bad.

— I don't even have an automail on my arm anymore. I broke my finger practicing with Al.

— I heard that, yeah, grumbles Envy. Disgusting.

— You can transform and sneak around, and you don't like to fight, but you can defend yourself. Well, most of the time-

— I liked the compliments part better, Envy threatens.

— You're still powerful, almost immortal, and resourceful.

— Finally! Envy rejoices. Finally, someone recognizes my superiority.

Edward rolls his eyes, drinking what's left of the foam in his mug. His ears and cheeks flush. His movements are more hurried, more sudden, less precise. Even his words come out too quickly. He seems surprised to hear them. The hot atmosphere of the bar does not help. Envy has a fine hearing, but Edward has to lean, enough so that their breaths intertwine.

— I need you, I tell you. We would go to the West. I was told there were wizards- I would like to discover the new forms of alchemy and to-

— If you leave, they won't let me come with you, Envy interrupts him. I'm a war prisoner, and I doubt your colleagues will let me.

— I wouldn't leave you here. They'd be capable of doing horrible things, just because...

— I can guess, Envy grumbled. I have a choice between being barbecued or carpaccioed. Nice program. Honestly, thanks for stopping me from killing myself! I really needed to be a little more optimistic!

— We'll figure it out, Edward assures me gently.

— You'll figure it out, Envy demands.

They hit his solar plexus:

— Because if you fail, I have my own little solution.

— You would have done it before, Edward whispers.

— What?

— You've gotten used to this life. If you were desperate, you would have enjoyed one of the nights, and I would have found nothing but dust.

Envy doesn't bother to answer.

— You look exhausted... says Edward. Shall we go home?

— Humans are killing me...

— Come on.

It happens as they get ready for bed. The room bathed in a warm gloom. The smell of the gas lamp mingles with the dust that has accumulated between the blankets, pages, and knick-knacks in the library. Edward tidies up as he thinks: out of the rules. His clothes drag in all directions, on the floor, on his armchair, in the cupboards. For a moment, they cross their reflections in the window. Then Edward pulls the purple curtains over them.

And then he makes a step towards Envy.

Another one.

— What do you want, you...

And he kisses them.

Envy pushes him away, hard enough to send Edward banging against the bookcase.

— Are you crazy? You want me killed?

Edward wobbles. He searches for words, his fingers tapping his lips as if they were burning him.

— They're watching! insists Envy, pointing to the guards posted in the garden, still visible between the curtains.

— They've seen? frightened Edward.

— No, not if we stay in this corner... But do you want me dead? What do you think they will think if they see me eating your face? They'll think I manipulated you, you stupid bastard!

— I... I'm sorry, I thought...

— You're drunk, you're not thinking! What's wrong with you? Is it the shifter thing that turns you on? I'm used to it, but shit, coming from you, it's...

— Shh! Shhh! try Edward.

Too late. Envy continues, high on adrenaline, their voice more and more hysterical:

— I knew this was going to happen, I saw how you were looking at me, I knew it, you're obsessed with work, you're obsessed with this, with us, you think what, that you can fuck me and I'm not going to say anything but you saw, no, you saw that we're being watched, that I'm being watched and if I'm seen with you, you know what happens, no, you know, let's say I'm manipulating, that I've got you, you've fallen into my trap, you're talking, it's your fault, it's you...

— Shut up! begs Edward. Shut up, please! I don't know, I don't know what you're saying, okay? I don't know! I just thought... Forget it!

— Excuse me? Forget the fact that you tried to pick me up like a virgin? No?

— I have everything to lose, please...

— What about me, huh?

— I knew that... I knew that this... You're just like this. It's not me that...

— You thought I was trying to seduce you? That I was doing a little mating dance?

— Forget it, Edward insists. Please.

Envy sits on the edge of the desk, the edge scratching their thighs. They rub their temples, pull their hair, search for a solution.

— I noticed you before, you know? tries Edward.

(Envy remembered what Lust and Greed had taught them, to prepare for their undercover missions in women's bodies. How, with a few touches, glances, to make you understand everything that burns underneath. Envy had been born in the era of fans, missives entrusted to servants and ankles as the pinnacle of eroticism. Edward had thought themself discreet, but, in the previous century, his little attempts would have caused a scandal).

— The blond soldier, your soldier form... I... I was already a little...

— I know. And how did it feel when you realized it was me?

— In the showers, uh, I...

— I've never beaten you before, Envy manages to giggle. And look at you now…

— I've been drinking, okay! Edward snaps. I'm doing the best I can, damn it! You deserve that I...

— What? For you to break my face? Go ahead, I'll wait for you.

— No, no, no.

Edward's cheeks are crimson, his eyes huge, his breath completely fucked up.

-- Please tell me you're not that much of a kid and that this wasn't the first time you've kissed someone. Please.

— First serious kiss, Edward admits. There was Winry, but that was... That wasn't really it.

— You realize I'm ten times your age?

— It's not like there's anything I can do about it! There are other problems, okay?

— You could have anyone in this country, even on this continent! Why you... Why me? Winry was right. You just want to destroy yourself-

— No! No, it's- At first, it was- It was purely physical, okay? You have a way of moving, of- I was lost, I had a lot of questions, and you didn't help at all. I was thinking...

— Oh, understand Envy. You thought I was an effeminate guy. Too bad. The problem is worse than that, I'm...

— I had no way of knowing, okay? Everybody said he, and it was the first time that... You know? I figured you were like me. Did you see where I grew up? There's no one like that, okay? And you...

— I feel a compliment coming on.

— You look fine!

Envy slides against him, crossing their arms over his shoulder, triumphant smile on their lips:

— Keep going.

— And then, afterward, when I got to know you and your stories better and started to understand you, I... I'm an adult now. A man. Before, I was just lost. I still am a little bit, but now... There are things I'm sure of, even if they... Even if they don't make me happy. In the last few months, it's gotten more serious, more... We sleep in the same bed, damn it! Do you do this a lot?

— No. And you know it.

— I thought that... I thought that it was...

— In the bag?

— You never really talk about yourself. But I thought... I was an idiot.

— No, you're not wrong. But I remind you that until not so long ago, you were a kid. You'll excuse me but, unlike my big brother, teenagers are not my thing. You are finally starting to look like something...

— I'm going to look like my father. And yours.

— Ew. Thank you for... Thank you for that awful comment. I'm going to stop having eyes just to... Ah, hell, the image is in my head now.

— So, you...

— At first, you were just interesting because you were fun. You also were a sacrifice, the key to becoming a god. And then a kid from Hohenheim! It was crazy. No, the... No, when you started to get interesting, and when it... When it became problematic was when you pulled me out of Glut's belly. I told you. You could have left me there. One less problem. I would just have gone progressively crazy. Dying of boredom. And pain. Tremendous pain. I don't know how many times I'd have to die before it was right... Or take my stone, empty it, find your brother, get me... But you got me out of there, whole. When you saw me and saw what I was and... 

— I had made a promise.

— Not many people keep their promises to me. Mustang killed my sister. You kidnapped Glut, probably to experiment on him. And you? You save me? Incomprehensible. I had never seen that before. I've never seen that before. Especially for me. When Greed ran away the second time, Father wanted to send me to track him down, and I knew that...

— If you left, was it for good?

— Yes, Envy admits through clenched teeth. I saw the worst of you, the worst, and I was born of the worst of you... But you treated me better than Father, better than all your generals, your kings, your priests, you... You saved my life. Twice.

— Each time, Edward said gently, it wasn't necessarily for you. It was... It was for us.

— Liar.

— I felt sorry for you, okay! Are you happy now? I felt sorry for you, and I thought... I knew your brother well, I... And yes, shit, I was trying to...

— You were fascinated.

— Yes, Edward admits, his gaze slipping away. Yes...

Edward's palm - his smooth, thin right hand, almost as perfect as their skin - comes to slide over his thigh - there, just above their mark.

— I'm sorry, I should never have done that...

Envy doesn't push them away. They don't insist either.

— I don't even know if it's your...

Envy grabs him by the collar, flips him over the desk, and dives into his mouth. Edward groans as he bangs against the hardwood and responds to their kisses. Envy grabs his thigh and kisses him even harder. They nibble, pinch, press, enjoying Edward's tentative tongue. They guide his movements for a moment, squeezing their hand tighter on his thigh, and when they pull away, it's for Edward's panting breath to kiss them again.

— Ouch, he comments.

Envy has a little of his blood at the corner of their lips, and for just a moment, they look like the being that used to terrify Edward. Their muscles tense, their predator-like pupil planted in his eyes. Edward feels like an idiot. Envy could slit his throat, escape through the window, fool the guards by turning into a cat - he's seen it before. So why do they stay? Resembool is in the middle of nowhere. They could steal the face, the life of a passerby, and get to the border without anyone being able to track them down. So why does Envy stay?

— The bed, Edward demands.

— You're right, Envy admits, releasing the pressure on his thigh. I'm not going to fuck you on a table. Especially for your sweet first time.

— Is it that obvious?

— Oh, just a little bit, giggles Envy as they reach for his neck.

— Let me do it, they whisper into his neck.

— Wait... Can we... Take it easy?

Envy sits up slightly:

— What does that mean?

— Not all the way? I'm not sure I'm ready for that... That's a lot.

It's a lot for Envy too.

— No, you know what? You're drunk. Too drunk.

— I didn't drink that much, Edward insists, sitting up.

— Oh yeah? giggles Envy. And yet you kissed me.

— I was waiting for them to be gone, he admits. And I drank... For courage.

— I thought you weren't afraid of me anymore, Envy simmers.

They push him back into the mattress. Edward immediately curls up, and for a moment, Envy is afraid that he hit his head on the bedpost. They move forward to see the damage when Edward grabs their wrist:

— You won't tell Al?

— Will you? No? Why not?

— Do you promise?

— Why do you want me to keep something from your brother? snaps Envy, trying to get out of the way. I thought you told each other everything and...

— Shh! Shh, please! Maybe they're back already.

— I would have heard them, Envy leans in. Now, you let go of me, or we fight.

Edward reluctantly releases them.

— Al thinks this is a bad idea.

— He's not wrong, Envy mutters, perched on the edge of the bed.

(Envy would rather die than admit it to themself, but their knees buckle slightly. Sexual pleasure is not their domain: they learned most of their tricks involuntarily, enduring Lust and Greed's discussions and arguments, surprising one another, and when it was time to retrieve information, would be the teeth by the time his targets were done getting off on them. It bored them more than anything else. The few humans with whom they had taken to the game had been clumsy, fragile, hesitant. Women were watching for their husbands. Sometimes, they seemed to understand that it was someone other than their spouse who had snuck into their bed. Men would run out of steam in a few seconds, and it was over. Like all human pursuits, it was a waste of time. They listened vaguely to Lust tell him about her conquests, her prowess, with the same polite interest they gave to Gluttony listing his meals of the day. It was consumption, nothing more. To devour the other, until the orgasm. To triumph over them, to grant them the small death rather than the final one. So, clearly, Envy is out of their league).

— We can take it slow, Edward repeats, words hesitant. That's better. For me. For you, too.

— This is bullshit... Envy mumbles.

— I won't tell anyone. I promise you. I can...

— Take it easy, then?

— Take it easy, Envy concludes between their teeth.

Chapter Text

— If you expect me to feel guilty, you can fly to the sun and melt in it! What are you? Catholic? Do you think Truth will give a shit about my remorse?

— If you still say it's in your nature... Edward threatens, rubbing the bridge of his nose. I'm getting violent. It's impossible to work with you!

— That's because your concepts don't work on me. You have a finite life. Every day is another day toward death. So, you are so afraid of the other side that you build a little morale system to reassure yourself that you will go to heaven. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to dissolve and the souls in me with it. And it's going to take a lot longer than your pathetic little lives of-

— I give up, sighs Edward, dropping his pen. We are running on a loop. I need another coffee... Tell me, honestly, have you thought this through yet or-

— I haven't. No time. Not in the mood. Not a damn thing to do.

— You're running away from your problems, Edward points out cruelly.

— That's the principle, yes.

— Are you going to shut up! Winry bursts in, her face still hidden under her protective mask. 

Envy jumps into a defensive position and kicks their chair away. Only Edward remains seated, used to Winry's explosions. She takes off her mask, slamming it on the table with a sharp snap, and continues:

— We can hear you from miles away! I can't work! I have people waiting for their arms, legs, eyes! This is a little more important than your philosophical debates... Shit, Ed, it's not even time for breakfast?

— Insomnia, Edward summarizes, muttering into his shy beard.

(A new detail, which Envy noticed before the others and which Alphonse does not care about. But Edward persists in letting himself grow it.)

— I told you I had a consultation. This is the space where we greet clients! And it's a mess! You really never learned to be clean.

They can at least recognize that. If Alphonse is careful, putting away his pens and notebooks after each use, storing their results in dedicated folders, Edward is a storm. His head lost several skies above them, he doesn't even notice the mess that is his desk and his sleeves. Spilled ink, circles scribbled into the wood, stray papers where unrelated subjects intersect... Envy lets it go, used to Gluttony’s mess. They only tidy up when Granny is around - so as not to be yelled at.

— Get rid of that! The customer arrives at ten o'clock! I don't have a state alchemist's pension!

— But my leg hurts, Edward whines. And we still have time.

— Are you sure? threatens Winry.

Envy stands up, gathering their watercolors, erasers, palettes, and pencils before putting them away in an apparently dedicated box. They are specifically careful to conceal the ones where they practice drawing the faces of guards. Edward doesn't need to be any more paranoid than he is right now, and something tells Envy that Alphonse wouldn't tolerate any of that.

— Move over, Edward insists, shoving them around. Need you to move the table and the couch.

— With pleasure, bitch, Envy mumbles, slipping their watercolors into their metal storage in order of color.

— The nicknames are new. At least nicknames of that sort, Winry notes.

— He insisted. Apparently, Ed is old enough that we're taking it to the next level, and I'm not just referring to his catastrophic height anymore.

Winry allows herself a chuckle, taking a seat on the table and arranging her own tools.

— Envy, how old are you? Al's age, I guess?

— What?

— You look young, I never asked, but I guess you... By the look on your face, I guess I'm wrong.

— He didn't tell you?

— No, Edward snarls from across the room, busy shuffling his piles of files. Classified.

— You didn't tell him! Envy snaps. Damn it... I have to do everything in this house. I'm about 200 years old.

Winry's smile widens, and she lets out a chuckle.

— No, it's serious, insists Envy.

— That's right, that's right...

— Did he at least explain to you that I'm immortal?

— Stop flaunting your ego all over the place, grumbles Edward, still struggling up the stairs. She doesn't need to hear all about your prowess. And come help me, damn it!

— All right, all right, I'm coming...

Envy takes care of everything else - that is, almost everything - and joins Edward effortlessly on the stairs. With a teasing smile twisting their lips, they lean over to Edward and whisper:

— I can see why it didn't work out between you two.

— I already told you it wasn't about that, Edward scolds, in a low voice, as Winry adjusts the cushions, knick-knacks, and rugs in the living room.

— Oh yeah? teases Envy, in the same tone.

— I'm gay , Envy. You know it.

Envy gives him a mocking smile. They never talk, outside the room, about what they do there.

— What an excuse. I can see that you don't communicate with her. And I'm the difficult one?

— What are you... Sorry. This is a sensitive subject for me. I always thought, we always thought that we would end up together. I thought that I could create something without alchemy, to do better than my father, to do- To do like my mother. 

— Eh... There are plenty of war orphans. It's not fucked up.

— And with whom? I could never live in the open. I'd have to hide my photos, never hold his hand, never give her affectionate nicknames... I'd have to hide it from my colleagues, maybe from my friends, from...

— You're the hero of Central. They're not going to come after you for that, are they?

— I don't know. I don't want to know. I wish it were simpler. 

— You were never simple. Never was. Look at you, Ed.

— Are you conspiring? intervenes Winry.

Edward curtly steps aside, storming up the last few steps and disappearing into the hallway.

— Did I offend him? You were talking in a low voice, Winry justifies herself, looking worried. They always did that with Al. It drove me crazy... I can't do chemistry, but I can defend myself, and- I'm starting to understand now.

Envy simply slides their things onto a step and heads back down to the living room, helping Winry carry her tools and several prototypes from the workshop to the living room. She tries to display them in an aesthetically pleasing - if not marketable - way to convince her future client.

— Is it okay if I put this here? Or...

— He never tells me anything, cuts in Winry. I think he just thinks I'm stupid because I haven't been on the battlefield. He wants to protect me as if it didn't directly put me in danger for not knowing.

— Kimblee, Envy recalls.

( Oops .)

— Exactly, Winry confirms bitterly. I thought it would be now, but it's not... 

Envy takes a seat beside her, folding one of their legs against their chest.

— He's kind of a jerk sometimes. And I'm the one who has trouble with human interaction...

— Are you really 200 years old?

— I think? I didn't really count. He counts.

— You're his new passion. I knew he would do it again. He can't stop. Alphonse, at least, lets himself live a little. But look at Ed... He's off on another senseless quest... He doesn't have his Alchemy, and yet, he won't let go.

— Dramatic, Envy snarls.

— It's like his drug. Here, it's like your cigarette.

— Smoking won't kill me... His behavior, though...

— I hear you! Edward snaps upstairs.

Envy and Winry exchange a knowing laugh.

— Help me get the rest of it, Edward mumbles, struggling down the stairs. My leg is killing me.

— You want me to desensitize it? For the day? approaches Winry.

— It's going to rain all week, Edward moans, collapsing on the couch.

— Envy, will you go get my tools? See the shelf where they are?

— I'll get them.

(Winry had figured out how Envy worked with dramatic speed. Envy loved compliments. They didn't show it, but as soon as Winry started complimenting their abilities, Envy started to do more. Too much, in fact).

— They are just like you, Winry summarized to Edward, taking a seat next to him on the couch, manipulating the mechanism with his hands alone. When you were little, you spent your time bringing me transmuted toys, just for my compliment.

(It was worse when their mother died. Then there was no one left who understood what that little toy meant in their palms.)

— Huge abilities but small ego, she continues, putting logs in the furnace. Not hard to see. I prefer to go through the compliments. Self-hating people can get violent and mean, sometimes... Revenge for what they don't have and-

— That's how Envy works, Edward summarizes. It was created from the feeling, well, the sin.

— Is that possible? says Winry, wiping her brows.

— I don't know. I don't know if it's true or if it's... Either way, they believe it. That their reason for living is to rid someone of their envy and suffer with it for the rest of their life.

— So it's pretty easy to make them an ally, isn't it? You told me that Greed wants it all. What they want is...

— We end up doing philosophy, sighs Edward. To understand someone who thinks like a fifteen-year-old.

— You can talk, Winry scoffs, putting the last logs in the oven.

— Eh. I've improved, haven't I?

— You've found a new passion to devour yourself, Winry confirms. You blossom only at work.

— You can talk, he mumbles back. Be careful with Envy, though. They are unstable. They can blow a fuse over the smallest thing, and they don't work like we do, not after all they have seen and done.

— I'm used to it. Ed... you've seen God, or whatever it's called. And Al spent years in an object. I think I can tolerate someone who changes their appearance and has several centuries. It's not that weird anymore. I mean... I knew Greed, their brother, right? The gentleman.

— The gentleman... chokes Edward.

— All this talk of original sin... I don't really believe it. It's too complicated and... You know what? It's too Catholic. It's too recent, it's too...

— You’re right, clicks Edward. In Xing, the philosophies are totally different! And so is the practice of alchemy! Our alchemy has been corrupted by Father. But we can change it! It means that for Envy too.

— I think they just want to reassure themself that this is the way it is and that they can't change, Winry summarizes, crouching down to adjust her machine. You should talk to them. You and Al know about destiny... I think they are afraid or never thought that anything else was possible... After... I do what my grandmother did before me.

She pulls herself out from under the machine, palms bare, absentmindedly observing the work of her phalanges under the skin.

— I have hands made to heal and not kill, you said so yourself. Maybe there's a bit of... predestination, right? But you can't sum someone up with just... It's like me telling you that you're just short.

Edward's fists clench just a little too tight. A little.

— You know they have done some terrible things?

— Yes? But... 

She shruggs. 

— Is that all?

— I'm getting the hang of it fast now, she laughs.

— You mean...

— She doesn't forgive, she tolerates , Envy summarizes dryly from across the room.

Only Edward is surprised.

— The door was open, they justify. And you're talking about me.

— In a good way, Winry teases.

— Rare enough to be noted, mumbles Envy.

— I'd explain to Ed that you're like everyone else. You like compliments.

— Ed seems surprised that I don't act feral.

— We thought you would be more unstable, psychologically, Edward admits. Many humans wouldn't be, so you...

— I've had practice.

— Liar.

— I don't expect you to change, Edward reminds him. I saved you because I believe in second chances... No, because we all need second chances.

— Pride is still alive because of you, Envy sneers. If you fucking knew what my brother did... You saw it, though, right? I hardly ever kill. I made a mess, but he's the storm, the tsunami, the hurricane!

— I've seen it, confirms Edward. He almost killed me too. Al saw him devour Gluttony.

Envy flinches at the memory. They had felt Gluttony die, deep in their gut. They had felt Pride, surging through the halls of Central - a beast with a thousand eyes.

— I am Envy, that's all, they cut in. I can't stop being it! That's what I-

— But whose envy? Edward snarls. He's dead! You are not!

— You still look like your father, don't you? scolds Envy in response. You have his power, his alchemy... Oh no! I forgot! You fucking don't, because you were too stubborn, to-

—I know you too well, Edward coldly reminds them. I've known Greed too well. Even Selim-

— Selim is Pride. There were never any cute kids. A joke, all of it. And I know them better than you. 

— Selim was crying for his mother when I was done with him. You saw it, like me.

— Worse than a corpse, Envy tries to taunt. Pitiful. What a joy to...

— Liar, insists Edward. You're a liar! I saw you crying! Will you stop...

Bad idea. Envy pivots on their heels, slam the door and disappear down the hall.

Chapter Text

They've been searching for hours. If this continues, they'll have to call in the army. His palms are already sweaty on the phone. The dial tone is torture. Outside, the screaming has intensified.

— Ed? Ed? What the hell is going on? panics Winry on the other end of the phone.

— Winry? Winry, is that really you?

— Wha... What? Of course, it is, you idiot! You want me to prove it? You'll fucking hear me! Get ready to crawl if you...

— Okay, okay, it's you.

— Is anyone hurt? Is anyone dead?

— No. Worse.

— Who's yelling, Ed?

— You won't believe this, but...

Alphonse is ripping apart the officer in charge of their protection troop. The soldier doesn't seem to be able to believe it, not sure if he should retaliate against what is still a civilian but far exceeds him in ability.

— They want to burn the forest, as a precaution. Al is going to get court-martialed if that continues any further… He tried to explain to them that it's no use, but they won't listen.

— Envy is gone, Winry guesses in a breath.

— Winry, be careful, you. If you see them, you...

— I can handle it.

— Winry, you don't know this side of them, you don't know what they are capable of. Please.

— You were always afraid for me, but I'm still here, aren't I? I'll figure it out. I'll find a way with my colleagues so that no impostor can sneak into my workshop.

— And the customers... Winry, should you lock yourself in and wait for us to find them?

— But you're kidding, right? Unlike you, who enjoy your pension, I need my salary! If Envy shows up, I'll give them a wrench, and that's it! I'm on my own, thanks! Besides, it might be a good opportunity to gossip about my colleagues.

— Do you remember our code?

— Of course, you idiot. Frog.

— About?

— To the... Wait a minute, what if you were Envy?

— Winry!

— What? You suspected me!

— But it's me!

— Prove it.

— Eh, but... But no! I don't have to...

— It's you, always the same shitty ego. And that's a reference to the frog you put in Al's underwear before I went to tell your mother. You were hellish. Well, have a good day.

— It'll probably take us days to...

— You know them better than I do, right? You know exactly where he is.

Edward doesn't answer, my hand clammy on his phone.

— Ed?

— Yes, he admits in a whisper.

— Go get them. And give me a call from time to time. Not just for emergencies.

Edward runs through the scattered woods. He's not used to the roots, the moss, the soaked rocks, even after two years in the country. Several times, he almost falls - only just catching himself on low branches. His hair is covered with cobwebs, pollen, greasy raindrops. Worse, his prosthesis is getting more and more painful. He did not have time to put on the protective fabrics, and to oil the mechanisms, as Winry recommends to him unceasingly. His nerves are naked, crushed by the screws. He clenches his teeth until they crack. It hurts when he walks, when he stops, when he runs...

So, he keeps running. Too bad.

The pain drips down his forehead, radiating to his hip. Even his right hand seems rusty, difficult to handle. His fingers move but they are as if absent, replaced by a dull, pale pain. A phantom pain. He keeps taking off his gloves, checking that all his phalanges are there, his elbow, his muscles, his delicate skin. The pain does not go away.

— It's all in the head, it's in the head, he repeats to himself. That's all… Envy! Damn it, Envy, if you don't show up right now... I'll knock out all your teeth! I know how fucking proud of them you are, so get your ass over here, now!

Nothing. The traces do not deceive, however: a beast passed by there. A massive beast, its claws sinking into the earth, its contours imprinted in the very matter of the forest. In the humus, the crushed leaves, the mosses, and the dust of the rare forest paths, we see a monster. If Ed didn't know, he wouldn't believe it. It is not a beast of Gevaudan. It is everything at once.

— Envy, I know you're there!

They had to take a reduced form: the traces are all the deeper, but the forest remains intact all around. Edward must make his way through, break the thin branches, still green with sap, push the ferns, the brambles, the outlets. The place was the site of a battle a few decades ago when the region did not yet belong to the empire. Only vague remnants of it can be seen: low walls of position, devoured by erosion, makeshift graves, and the firm impression that we shouldn't be here. Edward wonders if Envy has rested on their memory of their events, spinning into this space where no local farmer has dared to rebuild, even years later.

— Envy! Stop it! You're putting yourself in danger! They'll end up telling the army and...

He emerges from the woods, almost surprised to be out of the forest. He staggers, slightly bewildered, his hair full of twigs and rain. A low wall of vulgar stones separates him from a vast expanse of fallow land. In the distance, he can see the neighboring villages and even the rails of the railway line. The tracks stop short. The fallow land is fresh, muddy. The rain has turned it into a swamp, where the tracks are quickly drowned. Envy could be able to slip through without difficulty, but Edward could no longer follow them. He looks at the horizon. At the edge of the wood, a cat watches him, its eyelids heavy, its fur soaked. It hides in vain in the thickets. Nothing else.

— Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He hesitates to take a cigarette. Alphonse noticed that he was getting some and gave him a hard time, reminding him that they hadn't struggled for years to get their bodies back so that he could clog his lungs. Ed reached a compromise: Ling sends them shipments of medicinal plants carefully rolled, and Ed smokes them. He feels a bit of a jerk, smoking on the patio in the middle of their close guard and their sour, harsh, musky-smelling smoke when he smells like flowers and spices. But it's better than nothing. Envy prefers them, anyway.

— You want a smoke? he offers the cat.

— Fuck.

— You look too much like Miette. So? 

He turns around as if to grab them some privacy. The familiar rhythm of cracking chemistry replaces a moment. Envy's body comes sliding against him, without Edward needing to turn around to trace its contours. He knows them too well, now. Every detail, every variation. Just like humans age, Envy changes tiny bits of them. Their hair. Their hands. Their clothes. Edward challenges himself to notice them all.

— How long before the army gets here?

Edward takes off his jacket, laying it on his shoulders and extending his arm to cover Envy. The rain disrupts the rhythm of their words, their breaths, and drips on their calves, on their feet. Envy crosses their arms and puts their chin there, as a child would do. Already, clouds hide the mountains and the contours of the plains from them.

— I am not going to ask you why you ran away. I know. I understand.

— I don't know.

— Do you?

— I don't know why I left.

Envy moves closer, just right. Their shoulders pressed together, their arms intertwined, they are as if in bed - in their bed? A closeness born of battle and dulled by time. Edward readjusts the position of his jacket. It's not as if Envy is too big for him. He wonders if Envy isn't doing it on purpose. Making themselves smaller. Just enough.

— If you want to run away, I have a proposition to make to you.

— Oh yeah? mumbles Envy, without returning his glance.

— How long does it take, a cigarette?

— Why do you ask?

— Because I don't see myself running around with a cigarette between my lips, so I think I'll just stay here, you know? Stay put. How about you?

Envy understands. Something crosses their gaze, so fast that Edward might not notice it if he didn't know them so well.

— Take one from my pack.

Edward brings the cigarette to their mouth, and Envy doesn't move. He inhales, coughs, and Envy hasn't moved. He takes another one, burns his throat, and Envy hasn't moved. They stare at the horizon, their body pale, their skin so cold it's smooth.

Edward only notices the pattern of vertebrae under the skin of their back, under the thin fabric of their top. The way their body stretches to breathe in and out. The muscles dance as they rectify their position slightly. All this is a choice. All of Envy is a choice. Edward understands, better than anyone, the importance of flesh. Envy doesn't just have an immortal body. They decide every nuance, every imperfection, every variation in texture. Is it like transmutation? A reflex after years? A reflex acquired, worked, lost? Is it like breathing, a necessity?

Even asleep, it remains the same. He likes to watch Envy sleeping, curled up like a little animal. It's those little things that moves him the most: the cold soles of their feet, which implies that blood is not circulating well. The hiccups in their breathing, which suggest that they are having a nightmare. 

Some details betray their old nature. Envy has no taste and no smell. It took kissing them for Edward to notice. Envy has a teenage body. Dry. Thin. Narrow. As if still between two worlds, that of childhood and that of maturity. Between man and woman, too. They evolve in a liminal space, just strange enough to be noticed but not enough to make you scream in terror. It's all in the details. And that too is a choice.

— I'm going to quit smoking, exhales Edward.

He crushes his cigarette butt on the wall, not sure where to put it. He hesitates to put it in his pocket when Envy grabs him with their fingertips:

— You do better. You are too fragile.

— You could have gone farther. Why stop so close to home? We're looking for you everywhere, and you're here...

— I don't want to get wet.

— I'll tell you what...

He dances the cigarette pack between his fingers. A little rain slips between them.

— Wait, I'll take over...

Envy extends two more arms over them, holding the folds of the jacket firmly around them.

— Fuck, Edward murmurs. I forget you can do that.

— I don't just have two arms, I remind you, Envy smiles.

— I... It makes me... It makes me think of... When we were in Gluttony's belly. I realized, not long ago, that you were behaving with us as you did in Gluttony's belly.

Envy does not comment, staring into the murky horizon. Ants creep up to the low wall. They count them absentmindedly.

— Quiet. You can sit through dinner and not move, well, not too much. When we're working with Al, you stand in the corner and get busy and make comments but... You don't try to annoy or disrupt us.

— If I piss you off, you're going to send me back to the basement, and I don't want to end up like that. Remember, I'm not here of my own free will.

— I don't have any alchemy left. You could kill me. By the time Al figures it out, by the time the troops get to the house, you'll have a few seconds to escape. I know you. That's all you need. You just don't want to run.

— I don't know, mumbles Envy. We'll see. So?

— In Gluttony's belly, you insulted me once and then corrected yourself right away. Not even insulted. You said my nickname. Frankly, seeing you like that scared me more than anything else. It made me realize that we're really in trouble. Usually, you love to start fights, and here, while it was easy to push us, you were calm.

— Not calm, correct Envy. I was in trouble. You were going to die, okay, and so was I. But how many times?

— I only figured it out afterward.

— Before I found you, I tried to fuck myself up, Envy suddenly admits. I knew I was screwed. It would take me years to die, so I might as well start now. It was either that or go crazy before I emptied my stone, wandering around in the dark and in blood, in... I didn't know you were alive. Most people die when they fall in the belly or are already screwed up... I was reassured to see you. Not because it meant we were going to get out of it but because it meant getting it over with quicker. I thought about attacking you directly, but I was still too confused. I don't know why I stayed like that talking to you, to- I don't know.

— Did you attack us so that we would kill you?

— Of course, I did. The other prince's girlfriend had already fucked me up. I knew it would be quick. Much faster than waiting for my stone to run out. After a while, I would have gone crazy and wouldn't even think about killing myself. I can't die of hunger, thirst, or fatigue. Only wear me out. Imagine how long it would take to finish...

— I was afraid you'd gone and killed yourself earlier. I was afraid of finding you, not losing you.

— I'd leave nothing but dust, Envy reminds him softly. I'm here now. You can reassure the army and put it all in your report.

— When you... I won't say anything in my report. I'm not...

He hesitates.

(Edward knows. Edward knows what Envy did before, what Envy was. Two years of lies and manipulation is nothing when you've lived through two centuries. The army warns him, and if the authorities knew what was going on in their room, they would lock Envy away in the depths of Central and never let them hear a voice, see a face again. That would be it. But who has more to lose?)

— Envy, I don't put everything in the report. Alphonse knows everything, yes. 

And I write everything down in a safe place, but I don't tell them everything. I can't- You're not a prisoner here or a lab rat. You are under my protection.

— Screw you, Envy scolds.

-- Envy. Please listen to me. I need to talk to you about...

— Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about.

— Come on, Edward orders gently.

Envy moves closer, their fists white from being clenched. Edward slides his arms against their hips and squeezes, just enough to catch the steady beat of their stone. Envy doesn't push him away. They run their fingers into Edward's hair, making sure not to pull.

— You know... I never thought about your names, before anyway other than to find your weak points... And then I saw you, in both your forms, in... I thought about your name, what you had to wear, what you were hiding... There is no happiness in jealousy... Nothing. I'm not looking for excuses or forgiveness, I don't think... I think we can't apply great principles to all this anymore, to... Humans don't respond to principles, to great rules, to laws. We are too complicated. But I know this: if I had left you to die, not only would we have lost any chance of bridging the gap between us... And I would never have forgiven myself. When Mustang killed Lust, he had to survive. When he attacked you... He delayed us. He could have screwed up everything. That's when I realized we were no better than you. No less cruel and all of this... Everything we did and are is because of others.

Envy absentmindedly strokes his wet hair, not pressing too hard.

— You didn't stand a chance against us. You were just trying to delay us, and then... And then survive. I can understand that. It was when we dehumanized you the most, when we reduced you to nothing, that I remembered that you were like us. That I had the chance to save another life. I never killed, but I couldn't save everyone.

— Would you save an enemy?

— Scar was my enemy too. You didn't have a chance, I'm sorry, but Envy, you suck at fighting. Your first form is too big, too heavy, too vulnerable. You're good at disguising yourself, sneaking around, getting information, but not at fighting. You didn't stand a chance against us.

— We weren't taught to fight... except Wrath. No one was supposed to stand up to us... Besides, I don't like fighting.

— Just talking, Edward laughed softly.

— That's the idea, Envy murmured.

— I thought you'd get more upset.

— When you're no longer in danger of being killed, dissolved, or eaten at any moment, surprisingly, you're calmer. I did a lot of stupid things before I ended up in a jar. Father could have killed me long before.

— He was so...

— We had no choice. Do you know how Greed became Ling?

— Yes, in...

— No, not when Father made your stupid friend swallow the stone. How did he get the stone? He melted Greed. Right in front of us. I don't know if it was a threat, a humiliation, or a punishment, but it's not the worst. It's never the pain the worst. You get used to it. You get used to it a little bit. All that defines us, all that remains of us, in our memories. When Greed came back, he had forgotten everything. It wasn't even funny. We avoided him. We felt he was new, empty, hollow. It's our memories that belong to us. That's all I have left. Pride is not Pride anymore. He has nothing. He is Selim. For real this time... Pride is dead... I felt when Lust died. You can feel it. She fought back. It's awful to be burned alive. I can't even describe it... But I remember the smell.

— So do I, Edward admits softly.

— You killed Lust while she was trying to defend herself. I felt it. When Gluttony died? Deep down, we know. When Sloth died? The same. Wrath? A little bit, too. Now I'm the last one.

— Lust was trying to defend herself but-

— I killed Hughes like a sniper kills an enemy. I killed like your colonel, like your friends, like your colleagues. I was given an order, and I carried it out. Yes, I thought it was funny. When you do nothing else, you try to find at least a little bit of fun, and I can guarantee you that your buddies also found it fun to burn civilians to death. Even a little. The work is well done. The sound of a bullet hitting its target. A man collapsing. A neighborhood falling. A building collapsing. We're the same, on this, as on many others. But I may have killed that kid, it may have been my idea, but how many kids have been slaughtered by your colleagues? All of them? It wasn't that long ago. Hughes also killed civilians, Ed. Civilians. I killed a soldier, and I've died many times for it. How many times do you have to shoot your buddies to get justice?

— They were soldiers, they didn't...

— They enlisted! There was no conscription! You enlisted. Voluntarily. Al, no. You enlisted, and I was created! CREATED! I wasn't in Xerxes when they all died! It's not my fault those people are in me! The rest, I don't even know if it's my fault, do you honestly think... Do you think I like fighting? No. No! But I do. Soldier, reporting for duty! You love to fight, Edward. You love to win. It's all the same. After a while, when you're made of thousands of lives, you start to think that a child's life isn't that important. I don't know. I didn't ask myself any questions. I didn't have the time. I didn't want to. You, humans, think about it. Torture yourself over it. And you still carry out orders. You burn civilians alive. You destroy churches, temples, houses. You destroy entire countries, just for the pleasure to conquer. You burst skulls. You let them bleed to death. You bomb hospitals. You even kill your people. I've seen so many wars, Ed, that I could only hate you. It was so easy, so easy... It drove me crazy.

— But we can build it back up again. We can do better. It was all under Father's influence.

— No, Ed. Father was created by you. It's your sin, your fault.

— My father's fault.

— We can do this for a long time, the blame game. But you talk to me about choice, responsibility, morality, you think I had a right to that? Look at Wrath. Look at Pride. Look at Greed. All it takes is your touch to make it all go to shit.

— Because you're just like us. You were simply created through alchemy rather than natural procreation. You have the same feelings, the same... Envy, look at your-

— NO!

— Envy, you're not...

— I am a facade, damn it! We are born of Father's sins, of His weaknesses: we are His waste! He didn't have children. He got rid of parts of himself. You can't understand. You have a name, a body, a father, and parents who wanted to have you, not get rid of his fucking problems! I don't even have a body! I used to be a lab rat, and now I'm all that's left of a species! I'm nothing but facades, nothing but imitations. I have nothing else!

— I only thought of you...

— Of course! I know that! I've been around for two hundred years, two hundred years of thinking, thinking... And then six months in a fucking jar because of your fuckin' brother and his girlfriend, that forces you to think. That's all I had to do. What do you want me to do?

— Why did you go back to Father, to Central?

— Because it's my duty. Because it's my reason to exist.

— He abandoned you.

— Oh, like that was the worst thing he ever did? There wasn't much left of Him in the end. A shell.

— He had become His own vial.

— Even Truth has a personality, doesn't it?

— Didn't you see it? The Truth?

— Yes, I have. The true good. She offered to end it.

— What? Edward stops short.

— She asked me if I wanted it all to end, that I could leave in peace, that it could all end. That, like a human, she would take my lives in exchange for a passage to the other side. To die, for real.

— The Truth offers what you want most. My mother. Alphonse's body. The bab-

Envy cowers in a gasp, their gaze breaking contact, tumbling to the muddy ground.

— Truth didn't offer to bring Lust back, they gasp. Or Greed. Or... just die. Why did it do that?

— I don't know, I...

Envy grabs his arms and squeezes, harder than they should:

— Greed was still there, in his stone. He came back on his own. Lust, do you think- Do you think I could-

— His stone was destroyed, I'm sorry. Al saw it.

Envy squeezes harder, almost shaking him.

— So why didn't Truth offer to bring her back?

— Maybe because, even for Her, it wasn't possible?

— Lies! roared Envy. She can do anything!

— Maybe because She knew that's not what you wanted most.

Their nails dig into the linen of her shirt.

— To die? To die, that's what I want most? they growl.

Edward pushes them away - or at least tries. His palms slap against Envy's chest in vain. The pressure of their nails on the fabric doesn't lessen, on the contrary. Edward can feel them on his skin.

— Envy, you're hurting me.

Envy releases him almost instantly. Edward has never told them before. Edward rarely complains, he grits his teeth and builds up his pain that leaves no scar, no trace. Envy shakily steps away, palms bare, eyes white :

— I don't understand!

— The Truth offers you what you want at a specific moment. And it takes the most precious thing you have at that moment. It was my little boy's leg. And then my arm, the one I use to write, study, learn. It was Al's body, all of it, I don't even know why it's him that... It was Al's life, against my chemistry.

Envy closes their hands into a fist, their gaze drifting. Edward gingerly moves closer, slips his arms around them, and squeezes.

— Do you think we're allowed to die? To die like you?

— I don't know. I just know that what's dead can't come back. I don't know if there's another side or nothing, or... I think the rules... It's meant to be broken. Daddy died and Grandma told me that he wanted to go to Mom. Maybe it's possible. Maybe we'll all meet on the other side, behind the doors. Maybe we'll just burn up like the rocks. I really don't know. And for you... I don't know how you work, not yet. I think even Father, even my father didn't know.

Envy finally returns his embrace, more gently than it should - as if to make up for the scratches.

— There's time before this becomes an issue, right? reminds Edward, stroking Envy's locks that kiss their face.

— You're going to die. I'm not.

— It's decades before that happens, okay?

— In the meantime, let's go home. Al is going to have a stroke.

Chapter Text

They don't ask questions. They find themselves, naturally, without formulas, without circles, without complications. Their hands, their lips, and their bodies have acquired habits that are now reflexes. Edward and Envy have only kissed. That's enough.

It's only been a few days, out of two years together. Envy has been through this before, of course. They had to put up with humans, coexist, and even live concurrently. But Edward's warmth, imprinted in the mattress? The familiar hollow? The crumpled sheets, which they sometimes fight over without realizing the degree of intimacy it implies? 

These are lazy kisses, almost logical when their faces are already so close. The gestures, glances, tenderness exchanged have accumulated as quickly as the previous blows and, without notice, they have come closer, closer until they touch. They could find excuses, and pretexts, could outline and explain the slow but steady course of their closeness... Nothing would be enough. It's just easy, that's all.

(Envy fell asleep in the bed, we were talking. The bed is big, anyway, I didn't even notice. The couch isn't that comfortable, especially considering its mass. The bed is less awkward, it's less creaky, and I don't mind. It's normal to brush up against each other when we're so close. We live in the same house. It's only one night. It's only a few nights. I don't mind.)

So, yes, they lock the door. Every night. But a locked door has only ever stopped Alphonse and Grandma Pinako.

It's the screaming that wakes Envy up first. Getting up, they barely have time to see the door burst open, and a whole troop of people comes into their room.

— Edward! Ed!

They shake Edward, a gesture immediately misinterpreted.

— Edward Elric, don't worry!

Two soldiers grab them and press against the mattress, plunging a rifle in between their shoulder blades. They aim at the three red dots, Envy's points of vulnerability. Handcuffs come to twist their wrists. They are not even tired of struggling or transforming themselves. Face plastered against the pillows where they lay resting only a few seconds ago, they snarl:

— I want to point out that normally the situation is invertedAAAh!

Edward panics, still groggy, his hair and face a crumpled mess.

— What are you doing? Step back! 

— Ed, a little help, damn it? they articulate indignantly.

Edward struggles to his feet and fumbles around on his bedside table, looking for his alchemist's watch. He is no match for guns, especially without alchemy.

— What the hell is he doing here? points out the chief officer.

Edward doesn't recognize this stranger, his face caught in a spike that continues to his words. Probably one of Grumman's loyalists, a stowaway who has been working silently all these years. He's never seen a homunculus, but he's heard about it, you can tell by the look in his eyes, the clenched fists, and the orders he barks:

— Edward Elric, we're coming to your rescue! We have the situation well in hand!

— So does he, I assure you, Envy tries to sneer before a rifle butt shuts them up.

They collapse to the ground, stunned. They are not really in pain - except for their ego. No soldier ever dared to raise his hands against them. The hit left a crack on his brow bone, and a jet of lightning shoots out closing skin, flesh, and delicate veins. The soldiers retreat :

— He's doing alchemy without a circle!

Edward loses his temper.

— This is my home! I am Edward Elric, state alchemist, and hero of Central! I demand to see your warrant, and I also demand an apology from you! You have no right to barge in here! How did you get in anyway? By breaking my door? I warn you, I'll send the bill to West City, with my compliments, and above all, clear your fucking weapons!

The soldiers stand still, glancing nervously at their officer. From the epaulets and general demeanor, Edward guesses he is a major. Edward is still a superior. So why he is not obeying? A mutiny, again?

— Envy is a prisoner of war, under my jurisdiction and my protection!

— He is not a prisoner, the officer dares. He is a monster, a beast.

— Charming, Envy mutters to themself.

— Your arrest warrant, sir, insists Edward.

Envy sits on one of the wicker chairs, two guns pointed at their neck. They don't betray any emotions, lazily stretching their limbs. The soldiers stood well back: when they slammed them into the chair, all of Envy's weight came out. The backrest cracked. Even the floor groaned. Idiots.

— I tried to stop them, Alphonse explains in vain, his hair still a mess, his features hollow with fatigue.

Alphonse holds on to his cane, firmer than the other days. Den hid behind the sofa, only his trembling limbs protruding from the leather of the furniture. Edward grabs a pair of pants and a jacket. He attaches his watch to his belt, prominently displayed. The officer - no, a major - takes a seat across from Envy, the point of his face directed entirely at the homunculus.

— He sleeps in your room, unprotected, he sighs. In your condition...

— A circle of alchemy was drawn by my brother in the foundation of the house, lies Edward. Envy is currently very limited.

— But not totally, mumbles the soldier.

— Are you alone with it? There is no...

— Winry left for her training. My grandmother, I mean madam Pinako, went with her. Wait, are you implying that Envy killed them?

— We don't know for sure. He might have turned into you and...

Envy can't resist the provocation, shapeshifting into Edward and imiting their smile and gaze, their face giving off a slight sizzle while changing. The guns come plunging into their shoulders.

— What? No respect for your superiors? they pivot, their hair gathering in Edward's usual golden braid.

— Envy. Please.

— I thought he was limited! the major snaps.

— That's a basic's trick, sneers Envy. If you only knew what I can-

— Envy, you're not helping.

— I didn't run away, Envy scolds through their teeth. If I'd wanted to run, I wouldn't be here. And neither would you.

— Is that a threat?

Alphonse cuts in:

— I explained myself to your subordinates. You reacted much too quickly, much too strongly. You were talking about burning down the forest! It's been two years that Envy has been living with us without any problems and yet you're still clearly looking for an excuse to...

— This was supposed to be a temporary solution. A prisoner of war should never have lived with you, civilians, and an alchemist who hasn't worked in years...

— We're doing research, Alphonse reminded us curtly. That's part of our mission, isn't it? You know? To advance science? The situation may be different from two years ago when everything had to be rebuilt. I doubt that my brother and I have to prove anything to your government. My brother is still your superior, and I don't like your tone.

— You are a civilian, not...

— That's just it. I don't have to take orders from you. And neither does Edward. Envy remains under our protection. With us, there have been no problems. Our regular reports speak for themselves. We have made meaningful progress, and we ask nothing in return. Envy is essential to our research. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding.

— What guarantee do we have that he is not a threat to you? That this isn't all a setup?

— Do you think Ed is  that  stupid? mocks Envy. If I was manipulating him, he would be my  bitch . 

The major betrayed a startled gasp. Envy continues;

— And you would certainly not be there while I-

Alphonse stops them:

— Envy, it's okay. I'll take care of it. Officer, can I ask what you have planned as an alternative method to handle Envy? We have it under control, we have the-

— It is an order, Fullmetal Alchemist. A direct order. Do you object?

— Get out of my way. Out of the way!

Alphonse had to step forward.

— I'm not at your service like my brother, sir, but I'm still going to ask you to leave. We are no longer in a state of emergency, and this order does not fall under martial law but under the new Republican decrees. My brother can therefore reasonably ask that the directive be re-examined.

The officer stands up, lips pursed.

— What a disappointment... I expected more from you, so much from you. You know that we will come back, I hope?

— We apologize for the lengthy journey that you had to take to  visit  us, but your superiors should have consulted us first. We urge them to reconsider their order. Envy will be of no use on the front lines. Now, gentlemen...

— Out! orders Edward.

He would have slammed the door in their faces if Alphonse hadn't seen them off. Edward steps up to their room, still raging. His prosthesis feels suddenly incredibly heavy, and painful. Envy did not leave the room, curled up on their bed, fists clenched over the papers.

— Envy, you shouldn't be reading this.

— Oh, really, dear? Too late.

(Cremation.

Air deprivation.

Decapitation.

Drowning.

Electrocution.

Evisceration.

Exposure to extreme cold.

Exposure to extreme heat.

Exposure to mustard gas.

Exposure to tuberculosis, cholera, bubonic plague, polio, and smallpox (see appendix for lists of origins).

Food deprivation.

Ingestion of acids (see appendix).

Ingestion of poisons (see appendix).

Isolation.

Opioid overdose.

Sleep deprivation.)

Edward could go on and on, each procedure detailed with a disturbing level of precision. The appendix lists the names of several products, as well as their official suppliers, addresses, prices, and processes of reimbursement. All documented. In the appendix labeled "diseases", he reads the names of infected patients, brought in from neighboring countries or small quarantined villages, mostly ports or industrial cities. A provisional budget is linked at the end. Everything planned.

— I wouldn't die from it, Envy spits. They don't care about my shapeshifting abilities. They want my immortality and regeneration. They want a stone and to shove it up to their soldiers' asses. Do they know about the dummy soldiers?

— No, we've hidden everything, burned everything, everything...

— All the same, laughs Envy sadly. The same stupid ideas... If they send me to the battlefield... If they're stupid enough to send me to the battlefield, there won't be a war. I'll rip my stone off.

— Don't say that! says Edward. We'll find-

Alphonse interrupts him, coming into the room and slamming his cane. He rubs his forehead, his fingers trembling, pale from being squeezed.

— There will still be a war, Alphonse mumbles, his jaw almost set. If they decided to reveal your existence, it would only be to intimidate the others. It would only lead to an arms race. You can be killed with quite powerful weapons, as we saw with Father. And then... And then countries will also try to make homunculi. And... we can't afford it anymore.

— My species must die out with me, then, Envy states with a shrug.

— No. We'll warn them.

— And what about me? A conscientious objector? A product?

— You will not go to the battlefield. We won't let them.

— It's futile, Envy spits. It's in your human nature. You succeeded in creating us five hundred years ago, and you'll succeed again.

— Not if we warn them, Edward refuses. Not if we make sure it doesn't happen again. We can't keep this a secret anymore. Even Ling agrees.

— Can their alchemy make us? dares Envy. Can Xing make one of me?

— Only our form of alchemy can create artificial humans. Our alchemy, the one we inherited from Father, is corrupted. That's what... Look, I'm sorry, Envy, but...

— I know what I'm made of, shrugs Envy.

— Our alchemy is corrupted. I am sorry but look at you.

— Fucking irony... Born a lab animal, I end up... Oh? What will that be? Cut up into pieces? Reduced to ashes? Vomiting my entrails? Pain-induced heart attack, maybe? Frankly, I think I'll just smash my skull against a wall.

— Don't even joke about it, Edward mutters, his eyes still fixed on the list, searching in vain for a solution, an answer, anything.

— I should... mumbles Envy with wild eyes. I'll take care of it myself.

They are about to plunge their hands into their chest when Edward lunges at them, grabbing their wrists. Envy twists them, reducing their size to escape his grip, but Edward tackles them to the ground, holding them down with the full weight of his automail.

— Let go of me! Envy screeches, their voice drifting into guttural, animal form.

— Promise me you'll stay calm.

— Calm? Calm after reading this fucking shit?

— We'll figure this out. I promise.

— You better.

Envy stumbles to their feet: their fall has dug a massive hole in the floor. Sparks run down their spine. They didn't fight back. They sit down and reach for the rest of the papers, about to continue reading. Alphonse snatches it from their hands:

— Envy, you shouldn't read that. Ed and I are going to have to speed up our renderings. We thought we had more time.

— And can I ask why? What are you afraid I'll do? That I'll betray military secrets to Drachma? Those documents are my business, damn it! It's bad enough already, what could be worse?

— They chose to reveal the existence of the homunculi and the philosopher's stone. The court-martial trials were leaked, and some alchemists leaked it, too, because it was too important for the future of the country and...

Envy doesn't know what to say or how to react. Edward reads the rest of the papers at a breakneck speed, face white.

— It was going to happen eventually, Envy eventually murmured, their voice pale. The papers... Are they talking about us? BAout me? I mean, my family.

— You're mentioned under code names, mumbles Edward, still reading. But they... Oh, shit, shit!

— They say I'm with you, Envy guesses. They're going to come and kill me. Or send me back to prison.

Their voice is so pale, so small that Alphonse doesn't even feel their distress. There is nothing left. Everything, everything good and bad, stopped by a few ink dots. What an idiot they have been. They should have known better. Envy has already brought down governments with a few words, but never, never was their name part of it.

— Those bastards, Envy growls. Those sons of bitches... I've seen them, all of them, at the Wrath meetings. I saw them all, they know who I am. You let traitors into your ranks! They were on  our  side! This guy... This guy, you know what he's got...

— They thought it was safer not to purge the ranks, Edward explains sadly. No time for endless executions and trials. We need a working administration, a working country.

Envy spins heavily in circles, their eyes wild, eating their fingers, pulling out full locks of hair. Edward tries to catch them, in vain:

— They're going to kill me, you know that? I know too much. They counted on my resistance, but I collaborated with you, like a fucking fool! They'll kill me on the train, say I ran away, and it'll be over. I know every one of their names, their faces. I could drag them to court-martial. I could do much worse, worse...

Their nails scratch their solar plexus, and Edward grabs their wrists, without thinking about it.

— We'll figure it out.

Envy doesn't look at him. They stare at their chest, and under their fists, Edward can feel the stone pounding:

— They can never make new ones, not if they don't make a new Father.

— They need you to do that, right?

— Yes. Father had everything destroyed. Lust and I even went back some centuries ago, so that Glutonny would eat the rest. There is nothing left. To get to Xerxes' level of sophistication, it would take them decades. Maybe centuries? But I can live for centuries. And I know too much. If I rip out the stone, my memories will be gone.

— No! Edward orders. We will manage. It's a new world, a new order.

— And how? Do I need to remind you who is in power? And who executes? Humans have always been the same! I've seen it, for centuries, forever! Nobody ever gave me a reason to trust your kind! I was right, Father was right, you're pitiful, you think you're god makers, but you're insects, you're...

— Envy, tries Edward. We'll find a way. We always find a way.

— Not for this, not like this! You're all alone, against your entire hierarchy? They already know that I can shape-shift. And how can I forget that your fucking leader tried to grill me?

— They don't reveal that Ed is no longer an alchemist. We're already under military protection. You stay safe with us.

— Are you sure, kid? Are you sure you can handle a whole country?

— I've killed a god. You said it yourself.

— All that before you could legally drink, Envy sneers weakly.

— We'll figure it out.

Chapter Text

They are counting the days now. The brothers got an interview with the führer. They have a month to gather enough information and are still going crazy. They work like brutes. It takes Grandma Pinako to chase them out of the living room and to force them to eat. Edward can’t even relax, nor sleep. Edward takes hours to fall asleep, eyes wide, muscles tensed. The date is approaching, and the nights are getting shorter.

In the half-light, he guesses the curled contours of Envy's body, the regularity of their breaths, their warmth barely seeping through to him. Envy weighs heavily, digs into the mattress, and more than once Edward has slid right up against them. He didn't even feel himself getting closer: Envy has no smell! Almost no body heat! Edward convinced himself that it was an accident. 

Every night, there is another accident – and another excuse.

And then he stops making excuses. 

Edward doesn't ask any questions or not the right ones. He wonders what Envy's hips will feel like in his hands. He wonders what their skin will look like under the layers of clothing. He just wants to know. He wants to know one more thing. He wants to test the taste of their lips. Caress their belly, tender and thin. Slide his palm against their cheeks, to trace the contours. To kiss every inch of their face, to test its warmth. To know each detail of their eyelashes, of their jaw, of the serpentine line of their muscles.

They don't say anything or just nonsense. They exchange words so light that they fade away on their lips. It only matters for a thousandth of a second. In the house, they brush against each other, move apart, and leave a respectable distance. He wonders every morning if it will still taste the same, smells the same, and every morning he leans over and kisses them. It's inevitable. Envy is already too close. Envy doesn't let anything show.

(Envy is on the verge of cardiac arrest approximately every morning and evening. They are convinced that only their stone prevents them from dropping dead. Lust would have cut them to pieces, roasted them enough that they would have had to flee the country.

Not so long ago, Envy played this kind of game. They feigned attraction, desire, availability for assignments, even boredom. If they knew that Edward found them attractive,  of course,  they would have played the part. Maybe not, after all. Because their own reactions are scaring them.

There's something too intense in their belly. Something wild, worse even than their crowd of souls… Something wild is coming alive as they approach Edward. They prefer not to think about it. It's so easy with Edward. They like to convince themself that this is all a great idea, a perfect opportunity, that they have taken control of the situation. Yes, this is all a great plan. An undercover mission. One more. They know how to do it. That's enough. Edward has fallen into their trap. Brilliant. Still, every morning Envy feels both on the verge of death and incredibly alive).

It happens one morning. It could have been another, but it's the one seven days before their date. Edward's fingers are ink blue. Alphonse had to take a day off: his hands wouldn't stop shaking, and when he looked up to read the time on the clock, white flashes invaded his eyesight. Edward finished even later than usual. His eyes were cloudy, his gestures clumsy. He almost didn’t get up to their bedroom. Alphonse had to stay and sleep on the couch.

Envy now refuses to stay in the living room. It distresses them, all these papers, files, reports, and scribbles. There is no more room for their drawings - for them at all. They have become a subject, to be written about, discussed, debated. Envy knows that they will soon be gone. Yet they stay. Out of loyalty, perhaps? Out of cowardice, surely?

Maybe because every morning they kiss.

— You're so bad, they mumble, sitting onto him. Let me show you.

They anchor their knees in the mattress, making sure not to crush Edward. He lets out a hiccup of surprise against their lips, shaking his hips in search of a better position. To no avail. The issue is not Envy's ass on his thighs. It's also not their cool hands against his cheeks, getting lost in his hair. It's not even their mouth against his, gradually warming up. Edward can’t’ forget Envy's muzzle, its beast's flesh, thousands of bodies accumulated under their skin. He tries: Envy's preferred body has nothing of its true form. Nothing of the stench of corpses, of rusty blood. They don't smell anything. Well, yes, it does. The lemon soap of the sheets. The burning gas of the lamp. The greasy stench of dinner. His own smell slipped onto his skin. They still have sleepy gestures, a quiet breath, nails scratching his tender cheeks.

— You'll have to make an effort, Edward grumbles.

— I already told you it's not my domain...

Edward cuts him off, kissing him harder - more painfully too.

— No, well, wait, I'll show you.

Envy pushes him away lightly, sliding their palms over his shoulders.

— Envy... The souls in you... Can they hear? Can they see?

— Are you trying to ruin the mood?

— I was wondering earlier...

Envy grabbed Edward's wrists and planted them above his head, dipped in his golden hair.

— Have you had much practice?

— No, uh, none.

— None at all? says Envy indignantly.

—  Shh, shh , begs Edward. I don't have any. Well, yes, I've kissed girls before, 

— You've got to be kidding me... Envy mumbles, pressing their forehead against Edward's panting chest.

— I don't really know how it works. I mean, I do. I just don't know how it works with you.

— How old are you again? Envy perks up slightly, curiously examining Edward's rosy cheeks.

— Twenty.

— It's your first time, so you might as well get it right.

— I was a little busy before that, asshole! blushed Edward. It... Does it show that much?

— Just a little bit, teased Envy, grinning with a toothy grin.

— I didn't have much time to focus on anything else but... All that...

— I mean, there are brothels. You're a military man, right? You have them especially for you near the garrisons, don't tell me you've never been tempted to visit...

— No...

— You should have. They were a mine of information. They'd give us regular reports, and sometimes I'd sneak in. It's amazing how much you change when you're naked. Your morale, your ethics, your rank... Gone! 

— No... It's not my thing.

— Oh, too pure, too prudish, too polite?

— No. They just have girls, that's all.

Envy doesn't understand right away.

— So? Do you need  women ?

— Are you stupid or what?

— You humans are complicated.

— What about you?

He was hoping to provoke them, but Envy curls up defensively - just a little. Their thighs grip Edward's sides tighter, their weight becomes denser on his stomach.

— I've pretended to be a human before, for long periods. Undercover. Espionages. A lot of this stuff requires sex. And I was curious, so who can blame me? Father had gotten rid of His lust. I wanted to know what was so embarrassing, so terrible that He had to outright create my sister... But that kind of stuff, usually… Not my field. Humans are filthy, I am not touching that. You sweat, you pee, you get tired, you break easily... No, don't make that face. I broke  you . Several times. I know how easy it is. Do you want to know how much I weigh? Enough to crush you, break your spine, your ribs, your cute little butt  like an egg .

— Is that supposed to... Is that supposed to make me want to?

— I have no idea, and neither do you, giggles Envy. But apparently... 

They release one of their fists and come to cut Edward's bare thigh. They stop at the edge of the veins, just enough for the skin to mark. Edward stiffens. Envy's thin fingers pluck up his sex.

— We shouldn't be doing this, Edward realizes.

Envy lifts their pelvis slightly, playing with the folds of his boxer, with the tip peeking out underneath. It's been a long time. It's been years.

— Why? Do we have reservations, kid? There's no time.

— No, but you... You're technically a prisoner of war. I don't... I'm afraid to force you.

— Force  me ?

— This is serious, Envy! I don't want you to do this because... You don't really have a choice. I should have asked you before, I should have told you... I realized when the major came in that...

— May I remind you who I am?

Envy turns their arm into a lanky snake, slightly disappointed that Edward doesn't react.

— Envy, you're a fucking pain in the ass! I'm trying to do the right thing! I didn't even know if you...

— If I liked you?

— Oh, what a disappointment. I thought you already felt that...

— No. I didn't know you could... You can't have children so...

— We are superior to you humans. That includes a lot of things... But it doesn't exclude the good things.

(Envy did not mention that very few people in their family were interested in sex. Firstly, because it required a human to enjoy it, and secondly because it seemed a serious waste of time. Only Greed and Lust enjoyed this kind of intimate warfare. Even Wrath had to come and question his elders on the proper way to woo and pleasure his lady. Pride had been sulking throughout the conversation.)

— Are you really okay with this? Edward murmured.

Envy slides down onto Edward's taut stomach, careful to rest most of their weight on their elbows. The bed creaks. Edward has the decency to make no comment.

— Agree to what? Deflowering the Fullmetal alchemist? I should get a medal.

— Can't you shut the fuck up for just two minutes? I just want you to tell me, honestly, yes or no. Just this. Yes or no.

Envy doesn't know what to say. No mocking remarks. Words are like pebbles, gathering in their mouth. No one has asked before. No one made sure. Envy was a good little soldier, and they obeyed. That was all. Two hundred years of not questioning orders, except to override them. Anything for Father, anything for... 

Anything for what? Envy no longer had the luxury of lying to themself, of hiding behind their crass contempt for humans, of shouting their superiority from the rooftops, of keeping everything else quiet. All this so that months later, frozen on their elbows, Envy doesn't know what to say.

Edward slides their palm over Envy's knee, and it jolts them out of their reverie.

— What? they bark.

— Let's wait, okay?

— We deflate?

— No, I just think we need some time. I've...

Edward cracks the bones in his right hand, dances his wrist, his elbow. He still seems surprised to discover flesh there, mechanically scratching the burgundy scars. Pinako had recently had to dig his flesh to remove the last bits of metal. Some got infected again. Envy caught him draining his pus, teeths clenched. Envy understands the pain. It is the only thing that holds humans and homunculi together tightly.

— I haven't even had this arm for six months, it hurts... It's still my arm but the automail too, it was... I'm afraid to break it, I'm afraid to... It feels different now. It almost hurts to touch people, to...

He adds his right hand to Envy's knee, caressing its folds, their taut bones beneath the skin. Edward is fascinated by the work of the veins, under their skin. Edward is an alchemist - has been an alchemist – so he can recognize a master's work. Envy is the architect of their own body. Edward has written down hundreds of questions, enough to keep them busy for months of research.

(How do they create their limbs, is it a conscious effort, how do they imagine, how does he keep from forgetting, from going too far, from... How do they feel, in this changing envelope, more clay than flesh? How did they choose this form? How did they...)

— I don't want to wait, cuts in Envy. So, what shape do you prefer? This?

Their eyes suddenly turn blue, their hair blond, and from their body emerges Winry.

Edward knocks them to the ground, his eyes bulging. Envy doesn't have time to catch themself, and falls heavily, the groan of the floor betraying their true nature.

— Stop it! But what's wrong with you?

— And you? they straighten up, their hair disheveled. Shit, it was impeccable! I have all the details, what...

— Is this a test? Are you testing me? tries Edward, his eyes white with panic.

They finally shake themself and offer a useless but helpful hand to Envy. They don't move an inch, their face distorted by a grimace of anger:

—  Are you kidding me ?

— Don't do that, please. Why did you do that?

Edward insists, kneeling beside them. Envy breathes too hard.

— So, what do you want me to be? At least be clear!

Envy leaps to their feet and comes to sit on the mattress, crossing their arms and thighs in a pout of disdain.

— Yourself.

Envy gets agitated, raising a tone without realizing it:

— How can you be that fucking stupid? What do you want  physically ?

Reddened flashes of lightning cross them, taking at random frozen appearances here and there of Winry, Riza Hawkeye, Izumi Curtis, Olivier Armstrong... Edward does not leave them out of sight. Their glance always stays the same.

— Oh, come on, teases Envy, one last one for the road...

Roy Mustang springs up, only for a moment. Big mistake. Immediately, Envy retracts and, with a pale face, does not move anymore. They immediately resume their favorite form. Edward comes to sit against them, digging the mattress with their weight, sliding slightly towards Envy. The sheets have been freshly washed - you can still make out the smell of lemon that the old woman mixes with her laundry. Much better than the dorms at Central. Or the tunnels at Central.

— This was a bad idea.

— Fucking bad idea, Envy mutters.

— What do you want? insists Edward.

— I don't know! snaps Envy, pushing him away dryly. I don't fucking know. Are you happy?

— Of course not! 

He stares at them as if he were discovering them for the first time. Edward has already broken their teeth, their jaw, their temple, their nose, but this  look  is harder than any fist.

— Don’t even pretend, Ed. You've seen my real body. You know what I look like...  

— This body… You chose it, right? You could keep changing it, but I've seen you like this for years, down to the last detail. It’s your real one. You don’t have to change it if you don’t want to.

(That is not true. Yesterday, Envy corrected their hands, so that they evoked Winry's. A balance of calluses, finesse, and power. Their previous hands were more delicate: the bones would break quickly, and their punches were more slaps. Envy was almost offended that no one had noticed.)

— Didn't anyone ever ask you?

Envy did not answer, letting the slow flow of their hair hide their face. Their expression - like so many Edward has recently discovered - eludes him.

— Envy?

He cautiously slides against Envy, leaving just the right amount of space between them. Envy moves imperceptibly closer, coming to bump their hips together.

— Has anyone ever asked you?

— No, you haven't. Of course not, you idiot.

— And during your missions?

— I follow orders.

— And when you were infiltrating the...

Edward is suddenly not sure he wants to know.

— When you were disguising yourself to seduce, you... Didn't you ever have to deal with that kind of situation?

— Yes, Envy admits. But I did what the person wanted. You can feel it. You can see it, only you prefer to whine instead of...

— You never did what you wanted?

— No, I did what I was told, Envy scolds. I was doing my job. Going on a whim would never get me any information.

— But in your spare time...

— I didn't approach humans without being specifically asked.

— That's not true, Edward stops them. Stop it, please. Why do you always play dumb? You know it doesn't work on me, and the more you do it... The more uncomfortable I know you are.

— I'm not uncomfortable. I'm upset.

— Do you like what we're doing? Do you... Shit, do you really like what we're doing, or do you feel...

— Yes, Envy admits, pivoting slightly to the side, fleeing Edward's gaze.

Their back looks as if a beast might burst out of it. Edward slides a hand cautiously down the hollow of their shoulder blades. He absentmindedly massages Envy's sheathed muscles, counting the vertebrae that dance beneath their skin. He can feel Envy calming down, at least a little.

— I need you to tell me what you want and what you don't want. Honestly. If you don't, I'll... If you don't, I won't touch you. I don't want to risk hurting you.

— I heal in two seconds, Envy mumbles.

— You know I don't mean that.

— You're going to put that in one of your reports. You're going to put it in a report and triumphantly conclude that it's finally possible to bridge the gap between human and homunculus, and everyone will applaud and...

— You think I put that in my reports? Envy, I haven't even told Al yet! 

Envy turns slightly, finally returning his gaze:

— Are you serious? I thought you told each other everything.

— Not until I ask your permission! And he doesn't make me read the letters he sends to Mei Chang or... We still have a right to privacy.

— What we're doing here is not your private life. I'll remind you who...

— Damn it, Envy, do you think I want to make my sex life an experiment? My first time as an experiment?

— You could do it, giggles Envy.

Edward sees them slightly retreating, stepping back just enough:

— Promise me you won't write anything down.

— I don't know anything about... how you work. What you like. About... 

— I don't know anything either, Envy cut him off.

— Can we just... Can we just leave it at that for tonight? I'm exhausted, I'm... I'm not thinking straight.

Chapter Text

Their suitcases are all packed, they take up all the space on the carpet. Suddenly, time is material. It has a weight: that of the notebooks, clothes, and knick-knacks accumulated over two years and stuffed into the suitcase. 

It took that night for Edward and Alphonse to realize how much they had lived here, how much they had filled the chests of drawers, the bookcases, the closets. Their things are everywhere. 

The sheets are permeated with their smells. The couch creases where they used to sit. A part of them has permeated the house, and they will not be able to put it in any pocket, in any safe. Even when they leave, a part of them will always remain in this house. 

Even Envy was surprised to have left a trace when they had gotten used to disappearing. Their shits occupy a whole floor of the library. In some drawers, they have clothes, shoes, and jewelry. They didn't even realize that they had things, possessions,  stuff . It's useless, they could materialize everything on their body, but there it is. They didn't put anything in the suitcase. They will go to Central as they came: without anything. They are too afraid it's going to be taken.

— It'll be here when you get back, granny promised.

Envy didn't know what to say. They don't want to think about coming back because it means thinking about leaving. If Edward is counting the hours, if Alphonse is busy with all the last preparations, they are paralyzed. They go to bed before the two brothers and the old lady. They are so busy talking about the state alchemist's exam that Alphonse plans to take when he arrives that they hardly notice them. 

— I knew you weren't asleep, states Edward as he slips into the room, narrowly avoiding the chests and suitcases.

— I can never sleep, Envy mumbles, eyes fixed on the ceiling beams.

Edward turns off the lights, leaving only the one on their bedside table. Envy gives him a little look, not bothering to move. 

In the warm gloom, Edward's hair, skin, eyes, everything shines. He distractedly caresses their arm, their shoulder, their hand. He leans in to kiss them, with a softness that is almost insulting.

— This isn't the end, you know? We'll figure it out.

— If you can't find a solution, I've got one all...

— Envy...

— I've stopped my little self-destructive trips, thank you, Envy spits. I'm just going to get back to the good stuff. I hope you're not planning on bringing your nice shirts. You never know. They might end up stained.

— You can't be serious, Edward scoffs.

— Have you forgotten what I am?

— And you?

Edward prefers to kiss them again. It's a different kind of kiss, different than any other night. They both know it. Tomorrow may not be the end, but it's the end of something.

Envy's lips are thin and cold: it's almost a bite, more than a kiss. They grab his mouth and slide their tongue in. Envy has centuries of experience, and even though tenderness, sex, and preliminaries have never been their thing, they learned to master those skills like one trains for combat. On the other hand, Edward remains a young adult: hot, clumsy, and hasty. His kisses almost hurt. His heart beats at such an alarming rate that Envy pulls him away:

— Calm down. Don't snap. If you die between my thighs, Al is going to kill me.

— It's just...

Edward laughs, embarrassed but not enough to back down.

— It's just that I've been thinking about it for a long time. About doing more than we already do.

— Don't get too excited, Envy mumbles.

— We're leaving tomorrow.

Envy tries not to think about it too much. They don't want to think about what it means.

(They are not like Wrath, are they? Capable of desire? They are not like their brother and sister, giving in to all their instincts, no matter how fragile, smelly, sweaty those bodies are. They are above all that, damn it!)

And then Edward slides his hands through their hair, and they stop worrying. Edward climbs onto the bed, crumpling his shirt, and his pants. Envy comes and slides over him. They prefer the feeling of being in control, pinning Edward against the bedpost, and plunging their knees into the mattress. Envy's body is surprisingly hard. Not heavy, no, but Edward can definitively feel a strength, a danger against his torso. Something capable of devouring him with a single kiss. Something that just froze.

— Did I hurt you? tries Edward, gently whispering against their ear.

— Shut up, Envy articulates, their face buried against Ed's neck, each word echoing against his windpipe. Give me two seconds.

— Are you sure, you...

— Shut up, Envy repeats dryly, their grip firmer.

— This is a bad idea.

— No, just give me two seconds to get used to the idea.

— You've done this before, right?

— Yes. But that was different.

Underneath their acid tone, though, Edward can feel a slight hesitation. He runs his palms through Envy's hair. He loves everything about them. The softness of their locks. Their muscles contracted like a fist. That narrow, compact, hard body, made for violence and responding only reluctantly to caresses.

— I can feel you smile, asshole, scold Envy. If you are making fun of me...

— You have more experience than me, in this, in everything. It's me that should be worried.

(That might not be true. Edward is used to having his body massaged, cared for, kissed, and hugged. Since Al got his body back, he does not hold back. Every moment is a pretext to feel his warm skin, the light fuzz on his arms, his still thin arms. Before that, Edward had made sure that Al never missed the affection of other bodies on his armor. It doesn't matter that he doesn't feel. Edward knows how essential that bullshit is. Edward also knows that Envy didn't have any of it. No tenderness, no reprieve. He doesn't remember seeing any gestures of affection between homunculi. Alphonse did witness Pride devour this little brother. Edward might well be slightly superior to Envy in this area. Ed may not have had lots of sexual experiences... But he had everything else).

Envy has a tiny waist, in complete contrast to their shoulders and thighs. Edward's fingers meet effortlessly on their back. He absentmindedly traces their spine, the outline of each vertebra and muscle under his fingertips.

— Are you sure you are okay with that?

— It’s fine, grumbles Envy in between butterfly kisses. I am just not used to it.

— Why not? 

— Told you. Not my thing, and before you open your stupid mouth again, yes, I am consenting. For fuck’s sake, I am going to have to sign a contract next time or what?

— I want to make sure.

— I could kill you. Right now. Don't forget who is really dangerous here.

They have a point. Edward feels it, deep in his gut: an instinct, telling him to run. He can feel the bed groaning, their thighs inadvertently crushing him when they get too carried away. Edward kisses them, and clutches their hair. Edward is not afraid. His body has survived much worse. It doesn't take much to destroy a human body - or an automail. But machines rebuild themselves. He's lost his arm and thigh too many times to be afraid of breaking something. Envy must feel the cold metal of it under his narrow ass. Noticing that it must be uncomfortable, Edward tries to pull the sheets over his prosthetic, but Envy stops him:

— Come on, I like it.

— It’s going to hurt and-

— Really? Envy smiles, pressing onto it.

Edward shudders, almost pushing them away. He does not feel the pain that much - the sensation is fleeting, eerie almost.

— Don’t break it. And don’t hurt yourself, tries Edward.

— I promise, kisses Envy. So... you like men, right?

Sparks start lighting up the room, the glow cutting through Envy's fine features. Edward stops them:

— Wait!

It is too much. Not that he is afraid - he is terrified - but fuck! He is doing it with Envy. Still, he was less nervous when he met God. Envy picks up on it, curling up to kiss him. Their teeth linger on his lips, teasing the corners.

— Relax, boy. I am in charge.

— Are you gonna-

— You are not prepared, and those things take time, especially with your human body. Mine can adapt to everything, so I am gonna be the one taking it, okay? I prefer it this way. Less likely to break you.

Oh, fuck, that is even better, blushes Edward.

— That’s not- I mean, you have quite the ego, you-

— Already told you. I know more than you. I like being in control and not killing people I am fucking by accident. This way is less risky.

— If it’s your thing, go ahead.

— Really?

— Really. I want you.

— Yeah, but which me?

— The one that you want.

— I was born to please, smirks Envy. Let's go the simple way. I am still rusty. I haven’t reshaped this body for a long time, and- Things tend to get lost when I am enjoying it.

— I have seen you all, okay? I don't care.

— I am not going to turn into that beast, snaps Envy. Just- The eyes. I tend to fuck up the eyes. Don’t look too surprised. Fucking mood killer.

— You talk so much when you are nervous, smiles Edward, caressing the bony contours of their face.

— You should be nervous. Now... they mutter. You're really in deep shit.

Edward suddenly grabs their thighs:

— You're not going to run away?

— After I get what I want, you mean?

— Don't be an asshole. Answer me.

— You can still be useful to me.

— Was this part of your grand plan? laughs Edward, kissing them slightly.

— To make you a traitor to your country, even in bed? Yes.

— You won.

Chapter Text

They haven't seen this many people in years.

Envy stands slightly apart, just enough so that the group don't worry, just enough so that Edward must regularly turn around and check that they haven't disappeared. It's not as if they are the center of attention: today, amid the packing and preparations, May is the one who gets a special welcome.

May surprised Alphonse: instead of going directly to Central, she took a detour overland, bringing her research, her products, and her entire yard through the desert, the forests, and the fields. Only to have her show up just as they were about to leave for Central.

It's not exactly a surprise: both Al and Ed are under military protection, and the officers in charge of organizing their departure warned them in advance. Alphonse hasn't slept all night, and yesterday was all about it.

(— If you try to scare her or take revenge, I'll warn you... he had the day before, while Envy was pouting, and Ed was vainly losing himself in old stories of his months in the bush with Ling/Greed.

— You don't fight over soup, the old woman had grumbled. Wait until you've cleared out before you yell at each other.

— If you try to get even with the jar, I won't hesitate, Alphonse continued.

— If I had to take revenge for all the humiliations I have suffered, neither you nor the minus would still be alive. I'm not going to attack your girlfriend just because...

— She's not my girlfriend!

— He blushed! Look at him! He blushed!)

May Chang is still afraid of them. They felt it, in her nervous glances, her clenched fists. Alphonse, who allows himself to caress her hand, is in total contrast. He passes tea - brought back just from the Xing, just boiled, and brewed - and cookies. 

May Chang has changed. Envy had never understood much about how children work. For a centuries-old being, childhood, and puberty go by way too fast. Children don't seem to be limited to one body but go through a series of molts. In animals, again, this is understandable. Envy had blinked, and Miette was no longer a kitten, but a fat cat curled up on Alphonse's lap. Animals move fast. It's a matter of survival.

But humans? Humans grow so slowly. Envy had become accustomed to Pride's appearance, this permanent little boy, his big cheeks, his short steps. They were often mistaken for a teenager. It had saved them from a lot of trouble: young people hardly seemed to exist in society, just good enough to be sent to the front and wash dishes in restaurants.

< He looks at me very strangely > murmurs the little one in Xingian patois - the language of nobles and notaries.

< Don't worry, we're getting used to it. >

May is no longer a little girl. On this point, there is no mistake. In the hallway, as she took off her boots, she was slightly over Edward. Her hair was tighter, neater too. Her baby hair, which embraces her round forehead and cheeks, is impeccably straightened, drawing like a tiara on her forehead. Jewels, braids, pearls, ribbons adorn her braids. Even her qipao shows more maturity, its ample folds embracing a young woman's body. Made of burgundy silk, it is still full of the road's dust but retains its original shine. Delicate tassels emphasize her waist. A fluffy fur takes care to mark its contours and to warm its hands and its ankles.

May may look like a beautiful princess, some things don't change. She has shaven nails, blue-stained phalange, and she already wears small round glasses. Edward has received a similar pair to help with his working myopia. May is the youngest elixirologist in her court - and one of the best. From her years of wandering, she has kept a slim body, the silk betraying muscles. Envy must admit it: as a kid, she was already fucking fast.

Envy has only followed May Chang's evolution from afar. For a long time, she was all phone calls, telegrams, and packages landing on Alphonse's thighs. She lived only in his words, his stories, his shining eyes. Alphonse now intends to discover Xing by his side. 

Envy prefers not to think about what this means for them. Their existence is still a secret. The peace between the countries depends on the trust the Elric brothers have in the emperor. They could, with ease, reveal that Armestris still retains what is both a sin and a weapon and invade the country. Still, Ling keeps his promises.

She rarely saw Alphonse, at ceremonies honoring the victims of the Promised Day, at diplomatic visits, or at the ceremony to induct Grumman as Führer. Edward always refused to go there, including for his friend's coronation. Alphonse visited several times, returning to Central when Ling went on a diplomatic visit. Edward had refused to set foot on his occasions and had remained in Resembool, following at a distance by radio. Envy was grateful, without admitting it.

(This guy was a bit of a brother to them. They saw this kid's body deformed, transformed, inhabited by Greed. They sometimes hear, coming out of the telephone, his teasing voice. It kept some familiar intonations. Ling has kept a little bit of Greed, and only Envy knows it. Unless they are fooling themselves.)

Envy senses that Edward misses Ling. Envy guesses that this friendship is precious to Edward: he lived with adults for so long. Even May seems too young for him.

— How old is she? How does it work? finally whispers Envy to Edward.

— She can hear you, you know, says Edward, still torn about which books to bring to Central.

Both Envy and Edward stay away from the festivities. Not just out of caution but out of silly jealousy. They guess, without needing to verbalize it, that this feeling is shared. It's stupid. It's in the details. 

The way Alphonse took off her travel coat, covered in mud and dust. The discreet kiss he placed on her forehead and palms as he removed her gloves. The same care he took to untie her shoelaces, taking a knee despite the pain. The warm smile they exchanged, a smile that goes without phone calls and telegrams.

The way they speak, mixing languages so quickly that neither Edward nor Envy can really understand. From this syncretism of their accents, languages, and expressions, they draw a new language and, around them, another border.

— How old? insists Envy between their teeth.

— I'm a woman now, May cuts in, stepping forward toward them. I'm seventeen. I was fourteen the last time I saw you.

Edward puts his books down, guessing from Envy's tense back that the situation might get out of hand. He's not wrong.

— A wonderful time, yeah. Thanks again for the trip.

— You played me, but you won't get me again, I...

— Manipulated? It was either that or dying on the spot, kid. You would have brought a little corpse back to your country.

— Did you have to eat?

- YES, damn it! Like everything else on this earth! I spent six months drying out like old fruit, and she didn't believe me!

— I thought it was a way to escape, May admitted sheepishly.

— A way not to die!

— You're alive, cuts in Alphonse. What are you complaining about?

Envy stares at him, stunned.

— You're alive, thanks to May, so show some respect.

— We said we wouldn't talk about the jar, Edward interrupts.

— Envy, I'm going to... threatens Alphonse.

< Honey, please! > exclaims May, immediately juggling her tongues.

This seems to be enough, as Alphonse sits back down and frowns. Envy is almost offended that the kid still believes them capable of tantrums. They clarify, switching to May's dialect:

< I still have the right to complain, right? I thought you treated prisoners of war well, but I guess not. >

< Do you speak my language? > she chokes.

< All your languages since the beginning. >

May seems on the verge of fainting. Edward shakes Envy:

— Stop for two seconds, will you? You're acting like an asshole and attacking a child!

— You think that stopped me before?

< You understood me, then? > she understands.

< From the beginning > insists Envy.

(May Chang wasn't mean to them. And that's the worst of it. Beyond the humiliation and terror that gripped them more and more every day, the pity of the little girl was torture.

They spend months swaying to the rhythm of her little steps and whispers. She held the jar tightly against her little belly, so tightly that her palms left imprints on the glass, and the warmth came to impregnate their own body. When she arrived in towns or villages, she covered the jar but always took care, when the situation allowed it, to describe the places, the people, the things.

They quickly stopped trying to escape. Surviving took up enough of their energy, and they lived in the concrete terror of death. She did try to feed them. She tried hard. She tried to offer them meat, pieces of fruit, and vegetables. Berries found on the way, fresh fish caught, stolen grilled meat. She would stuff them into the jar, inevitably getting bitten but persisting. 

She would talk to them about her country, her clan, her relatives, and Alphonse too. She would tell them about this country where Envy had never been as if Father had feared to venture into conquered territory).

< I came armed and prepared > May Chang politely admitted. < I thought you were going to take advantage of it to get revenge. >

< I couldn't stand two years of domestication to spin on you. You're not that special. >

< I'm suspicious all the same. >

< You're right. >

< You really speak her language? You never told us that before! > interrupts Alphonse, immediately switching to the Xingian language, in a borrowed patois, stuffed with unnecessary intonations.

(Envy never told them because watching them learn the Xing languages was one of their favorite shows. With books and phone calls as their only lessons, the two brothers had taken months to master the basics and made mistakes that Envy found hilarious. Edward only seems to understand what a show they've been putting on for the past two years).

< He speaks like the older ones > is kind enough to point out May.

Envy frowns, moving slightly closer to the little couple:

< It's not he, it's... Shit, how do your pronouns work... Oh, what the hell. >

< I'm trying to learn the language too > Alphonse clarifies. < Ed as well. Our father spoke it and used it in his writings since he lived there for centuries... >

< Languages > says May. < We have several hundred languages, you only speak one of the most widespread and still... >

< Why do you think we imposed a single language here? > sneers Envy wickedly. < More practical, and then to break the language is to break the dissensions. A unique language kills identity. Before, there were... I think there are about ten languages in this country. I vaguely remember. And then the neighboring countries, which we conquered and... Why are you pulling this face? It shocks you what I'm saying. >

— Sometimes I forget what we did, Edward mutters.

Envy shrugs:

— That's how empires are made. Xing too, huh. We could have gone to your country, May. It just happened to be...

He hesitates about the right word.

— It was a coincidence that your father went to this side of the continent, and we went to the other. But on both sides of the border, you are the same.

Chapter Text

It is early enough that the streetlights are still burning. It takes the narrowness of their country station for them to realize how close they are being watched. The thin walls of the house, the ability to draw their curtains, all of this almost convinced them that they had a life of their own. But they were never free to move around. Their prison was just big enough to give them the illusion of it.

— A little to the right... There, just like that, perfect!

— Damn, but it's so heavy...

For the occasion, they took out Alphonse's armor again and loaded it into the cattle cars. Alphonse stands in front of it for a long time. He retraces the contours that had been his, this body that was only a hollow, that was his shill. Part of it was melted down to make his cane and some of the pieces of Edward's leg. Alphonse has taken it upon himself to reconstruct at least part of it but then plans to melt it down. As the flesh returns to dust, it must be finished. It has suffered so much that Envy is surprised that Edward does not have more scars. Metal does not hide what flesh compensates, repairs, heals. If the armor has accumulated so many scratches, holes, shocks. Then how does Edward still stand?

— You could help me! You have two hands now!

— I thought you were more powerful sans us humans. I have... I have stuff to do.

Edward does not even look at them. He is a teenager again, afraid to lose his brother at any moment. He grabs his arm, squeezes until he feels every detail of his pulse. He needs it.

— It’s all right, laughs Alphonse. It's all right, I promise.

Edward is afraid, every time Alphonse escapes his sight. When he was in his armor, it was hard to lose him in a crowd. But now and for the rest of his life? Edward is afraid for his little brother. He shudders with each stroke of the cane on the platform.

Envy offered to help load - a poisoned gift since this show of force worries their troop more than anything else. Edward allows himself a theatrical sigh.

— Go sit down, Ed, orders Envy.

— I can...

— No, you can't. You have a miserable body that looks more like a chicken, so go rest. I'll take care of it.

— Thank you.

— What would you do without me?

A laugh startles them: further down the platform, May and Alphonse are exchanging tenderness, jokes, and nonsense.

— We'll have to put up with them the whole trip? grumbles Envy, dragging their suitcases inside.

They do it on purpose: whining, sighing, taking big dramatic breaks in the hallway. Edward has already seen them lift Winry and Pinako's metal cargoes with ease. He doesn't even bother complimenting them.

— Are you complaining when we have a whole cabin? Do you know what we used to live in? I had to camp...

— Your brother didn't need to sleep and didn't feel pain. And you're all soft. You can sleep anywhere, Envy spits.

— I spent six months in the bushes before the Promised Day.

— And I was in a jar. Who loses?

— Stop talking about that! complains Alphonse from the dock.

— And I'm the war criminal! shouts Envy in response.

Envy finally drags their suitcases to the cabin, stuffing them into the baskets above their heads. Edward is not fooled by their relaxed demeanor: outside, the troop of alchemists is keeping an eye on them. They've only managed to negotiate that Envy stays the night in Edward's cabin, rather than be locked in the secure wagons.

— I asked that they be in a separate cabin, but Al said that would be too conspicuous. May Chang is still a princess, she-

— She must stay virgin, pure, ready for a proper wedding ring?

— Oh, that... Ling will take care of that if need be. Besides, we are the descendants of the Eastern Philosopher. They owe us that much.

Envy rolls their eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh:

— What a hard life, the life of the children of legend! Well, your brother is marrying the princess... What about you?

— What about me?

— It looks like your life has come to an end. Don't you want more? More glory? Medals? A position of some glory?

— My legend is made, says Edward. I can't really do better.

— Immortal at twenty, then?

— I guess so. Jealous?

— Fame was never our goal. To be glorified, you need a crowd, a following, and we... We just wanted your life.

— I don't like it when you talk like that, Edward grinned. It's ridiculous.

— No more ridiculous than you retiring at 20.

— We should be there by the end of the week if there's no... Edward repeats himself. Ah, the engine is starting!

— It's over, now, sighs Envy.

Even though someone could walk in at any moment, they allow themselves to curl up against each other. They stay that way for a few moments, the clatter of the train being loaded taking over the conversation. It stinks the filth of previous passengers, the filmy fat, the shit under the soles, the skin cells stuck between the mesh of the benches, the hair, the leather of the suitcases stretched in the luggage bags.

If Envy had a heart, it would be beating much too fast. They are all angles, surprisingly hard under their frail exterior. Edward never got used to their sharp elbows, digging into his belly, back, thighs. Envy's eyes are pale, their teeth clenched, their fixed gaze. It's worse than seeing them angry. It's worse than knowing they are plotting. It's worse than anything else.

If they are worried, then they're all in some serious shit.

— They are spying on us, notes Envy.

They suddenly stand up, running to the door to listen.

— Envy, why are you...

— There's movement, laughs Envy. I hear doors...

Boards are groaning in the hallway and doors creaking.

— Envy, come to bed instead of eavesdropping, you pervert! mutters Edward angrily.

— I'm checking to see if she's coming...

— You check if they're in the same cabin, like a fucking depraved... Come here, right now!

— Jealous?

— They can do what they want. They're grown-ups!

— I can guarantee you it's not the first time they...

— Of course, I know that! But he's my little brother, so leave him alone.

Alphonse and May Chang showed up for breakfast together, cheeks still flushed, their fingers brushing against each other as they made coffee. Edward and Envy are no longer just jealous.

— And they think they're being discreet, Envy mumbles. The tension is unbearable. It looks like they're going to fuck right in front of our eyes.

— You can talk, replies Edward.

— What?

— You have a way of looking at me that...

— I've always looked at you like that. I mean, come on. No. Not when you were... You know. Even more under my age.

— We'll have to be discreet at Central.

—  Do you think I want to be seen standing next to you?

Edward smiles faintly.

(Envy pretends this is all beyond them, but it's not. If Lust had never felt any semblance of romantic attraction to a human, Greed had liked it. And then Wrath... A nightmare. A miracle that Pride put up with their little brother, whose mawkishness had long since disgusted the rest of the siblings. They all preferred to conclude only his part of humanity could explain the delirious love he had for this woman, this human who was destined to sacrifice. It was all part of the plan. All fake. Right? No one loves that much.)

It's been days, days since they've touched the ground. They barely leave the station at rest stops. Their world is limited to their cabin and all the landscapes. Envy spends their days hanging out the window. There are lakes, mountains, forests, cliffs, cities, villages, and especially fields. New to them, even after centuries.

It took this train ride for them to realize how much time has passed. The surroundings have changed. Envy notes that the government's policies diverge completely from previous goals. The country no longer wants to expand, to devour borders and countries, but to prosper. They note, however, that the troops are more numerous. The threat is no longer around the country but within it. It is already a miracle that, two years later, a balance made to be out of tune still holds. Maybe humans are doing better than they thought.

— You think too much, laughs Envy. Your thoughts... I can see them vibrating around your head.

— Give me a second, sighs Edward. I've got to get ready. I've got to...

Envy sinks into their soft bunk, watching for the outside. The moonless night has eaten the world. They advance as if in a tunnel. From the countryside, they can only see the glow of the cities and, taking up all the space, their reflections. Envy opens the window:

— Vy, no, they'll end up putting you in a box if you keep going, mutters Edward.

— I want a smoke. Light it for me.

Edward does it mechanically. He doesn't even think about it. 

— Vy, you're putting ashes everywhere, mumbles Edward, stepping aside.

— You keep working. I am bored.

— Give me back my clothes. You don't need them.

Envy stole Edward's shirt. It caresses their sides, reveals their body voluntarily stripped. They only relax at night, when the troops can no longer watch them through the window, and Alphonse and May are far too busy enjoying their respective companies to disturb them. His bare chest is getting harder. His nails are full of ink, his fingers taking button-pink hues in the cold. Edward is working even more than before. This sends Envy into unfair fits of anger:

— It's the end, and you're spending your time on your fucking books! These are my last days, and you...

— And I'm trying to save you, imbecile!

— There's no more hidden truth, no more secrets! You know everything, Ed! You just choose not to see. At least look at me!

— We'll figure this out.

— Tomorrow. Tomorrow!

— I don't want them to lock you up. I want them...

— He'll kill me before they can put me in the basement. So you might as well-

— He?

— The arsonist. He'll kill me as soon as I get there.

— Are you afraid?

— Of him? No. I don't need to be. I'm afraid of-

— What? insists Edward, finally taking his eyes off his notebook.

— You're in denial. About this and everything else. Do you remember what I did? Do you remember?

— Yes, I remember.

— No, you don't. You don’t know about the picture.

Envy scratches their chest, murmuring simply:

— I killed your friend by taking on the appearance of his wife when I saw his picture. His fucking picture. You saw.

— What?

— They sent me, and Lust, to kill him. We knew, as soon as he understood. We had to… There was no time to plan, to organize a discreet assassination, an accident... I didn't have time to study who his wife was, or even what the fuck she looked like... I saw his picture, and I just went crazy, that's all.

— What picture?

— His fucking picture! insists Envy, raising their voice. With his kid and his wife and him. It just blew my mind. Him and his kid! I fucked up. People could have seen me change. It was stupid. I just don’t want you to forget what…

— Forget what? What you did?

Envy cowers, shutting down. So, he was right.

— There's a lot in your head, that... tries Edward.

— A lot of people, too, Envy spits.

Edward stops. Like Miette, Envy resorts to hostility only when pushed to their limit. Edward easily begins to understand how they work. A bit like him. A little too much like him.

— Envy, we'll figure it out.

And he returns to his notebook.

Chapter Text

Envy seems to have decided to get murdered. A version of Envy, which the brothers had long believed gone or domesticated - has emerged. Threats, taunts, secrets spat out, Envy had already incited two men to mutiny. Both Edward and Alphonse would have thought that these kinds of techniques worked only in whispers, suggestions... Seems not.

(— You will get us both killed, Edward scolds. We will be in Central in one night. ONE. Hold on until then.

— I thought you were going to protect me? Won't your medals be enough to make the bullets ricochet? It'll take more than that for me, you know?

— You are hell on earth.

— They all know that I know . I know everything. If I wanted to bring down this government, I'd just stand at the window and scream.

— You could take me down in seconds, confirms Edward. I am not an alchemist anymore, and nobody knows, apart from you, Ed, and Win…

— I wouldn't do it. You're more useful to me this way.

— So, calm the fuck down. I cannot take it anymore.

— Oh, come on, there are worse ways to spend your finite life…

— I think Alphonse knows. I mean, about us. He would not have left me alone with you otherwise.

— Or maybe he thinks I'm going to avoid strangling you like a chicken just before they send me back to prison.

— He probably just wants time for himself and May. I have learned to deal with you.

— You think so?

The rest of the ride is hell).

In Central, two years has been enough to change almost the entire city. Technology is developing at a disorienting rate, which would almost worry Envy if they hadn't experienced other golden ages before. Not so golden, anyway.

— What happened? gasps May.

The night stops at Central. A sudden abyss seizes them: the city is entirely black.

— Curfew, Alphonse explains. There was an assassination attempt on Monday against several leaders.

— They are punishing the whole city, adds Envy. A classic. A classic that works very well if you want to organize a massacre.

The river is nearby. They can hear it humming despite the noise of the crowd.

— Why are there so many people? remarks Envy.

— I don't know. We were not warned, admits Edward.

On the platform, two worlds collide like two seas meet in a strait. The station is narrow but crowded. Edward is even afraid that kids will pass under the rails. The main canopy looks like it could house giants. Smoke takes over this meager sky, biting at the cast-iron columns, the locomotives, the glasswork of the facade.

— Are we really traveling incognito? mumbles Envy, hidden in a corner.

— No one will recognize you. Now that you dress a little more normally... Even if it is with my clothes.

— You, yes! I don't want to be discovered because people think that we...

— Huh?

— But yes, you fool, you are the great alchemist, we haven't seen you for years, and you come down with the splendor that I am on your arm, what do you think?

— You are not going to come down on my arm!

— It takes less for a rumor, Envy sulks, cowering even more.

— It is mostly Al who is going to get the attention. We know what I look like... People think he is finally out of his armor.

— That smell... sighs Envy. I've missed it.

— But it stinks?

It is early, and the city is still sleeping. The shops are still closed. The theater and opera posters are still shiny with their glue. Teenagers, hardly boys, have taken on the task of distributing them at dawn. There are a few carts, heading to nearby markets. Sex workers slam their shutters and clear out the last customers - we're closing, thanks! Coal delivery men dump their loads into the intimate crack of some cellars. Drunken men spoil their suits on all the streetlamps.

Envy missed everything. Reading newspapers, listening to the radio, and reading books is not enough to recreate a city. 

Everything .

The smells. The dresses brush against each other. The glasses filing up. The white gloves. The jets of water where the lanterns and lanterns are echoing. The already yellowed lawns happily trampled. The dogs, the children, the strollers, the friends that one finds again, the bohemian students, the few bourgeois clinging to their apartments rather than fleeing to the suburbs, the workers, the...

Envy is used to war zones. They have seen Central undergo several sieges and have taken part in several capitals' destruction. They have seen too much, and their memories melt into the present. When humans see only a clean avenue, they know. The whole neighborhood has already burned. Many times, actually. The city was built on its repeated ruins.

— Envy? Are you coming?

Envy stops short.

— I don't want to. They're going to put me in prison.

— Yes. That is the plan. You in the basement and us in the hotel next door. I will pick you up there, Edward insists. You are only authorized to be out in the archives, with me and Al. It has to be like that for the time being, and then... Envy, come on, move.

— You don't seem to understand.

— But understand what? We're waiting for the hearing and-

— What if they don't let me out again? Or not for a long, long time?

— I would not let them.

— You may have killed a god, Ed, but you're no match for our administration. This is partly my fault, okay? It's designed to destroy. Crush. It's a paper army. And I'm the only enemy left standing.

— Envy, stop being dramatic. I am going to get you every morning. I will go with you, now, to settle-

— Settle in? It's not a hotel, it's a...

— What did you think? That we were going to be able to carry on like at home?

— Yeah, Envy scolds. Yeah, and I thought you were supposed to make sure it stays that way. I can shove those promises up my ass.

— I will be back. Every morning, Edward insists. I can't-

— You can do anything, Envy insists.

— It is just a...

— Damn it, Ed, it smells like death. Do you know how many sacrifices have been made here? How many people died here? And you want me to sleep there? I'm not a dog, I don't sleep in a doghouse, I don't sleep outside either.

— I will be back, Edward promises in vain.

Envy hurts him, their nails pierce the fabric and reach the skin.

— I'll kill you if you don't come back. I will kill everyone you love.

— Envy, I will come back.

 — Swear it to me.

— I will be back tomorrow.

The next day, Edward arrives almost running. The cellar has not changed - the smell just seems so big, so greasy, so fat that he stumbles. Like a beast is swallowing him. The alchemists take turns every three hours, so unbearable it is. On the walls and floors, alchemist's circles are visible under the fresh paint. For safety, they had them engraved: so many bas-reliefs, it is like a temple for a small god.

— Damn, you could have given him sheets?

— And why not a hot water bottle while you're at it? spits the officer in charge.

— How was the night?

— Horrible.

The alchemists all agree. Envy did not sleep all night. Under the ever-pallid glow of the neon lights, their high-pitched whirring, Envy did not even move. They stuffed themselves in the center of the circle. They did not move. Their body is tiny, but their few furious steps betray all their strength. Envy holds back. 

On another day, Envy would have committed a massacre. They would have killed out of provocation or pleasure, spilled blood on every wall, covered the transmutation circles with entrails and corpses. They did worse. They did a thousand times worse. They would have twisted the bars, smashed the doors, ripped out the locks. They vaguely calculate that they could at least reach the first floor before the cannons in the courtyard calm them down. 

Unless they send Mustang. They do not know if they will have the courage to even fight. They only hope that Mustang will kill them on the spot. No suffering.

No.

No.

Envy won't let themself be killed - or die. They have something to do. They have a mission. They have orders to follow and someone to answer to. They have been waiting. Waiting for Edward.

— Envy!

Envy says nothing. They straighten up, step forward, and obediently follow them.

— Are you all right? tries Edward.

Envy does not answer. Their look is enough. If Edward did not know them so well, he would be afraid. The alchemists, though hidden under their masks, tense up. He can feel their fear beneath the uniforms, muscles clenched like fists, hearts throbbing, fingers coming to scratch the alchemist circles etched on their gloves.

— You are expected, the officer in charge reminds them.

As they move towards the elevator, their troop shrinks slightly: the corridors are narrow and still bear the traces of the Promised Day. Dust, sticky grime has settled into the figures, the gaping holes, the blisters. Edward takes the opportunity to take off his coat and slip it over Envy's narrow shoulders. They glare at him - so hard that Edward almost drops his coat.

— Do you want it? Envy? he insists.

Edward persists, laying his coat against Envy. They release it with a dry movement, the dry look. Two years ago, they stood there, Envy wrapped in that same red coat. Edward kept it religiously in his closet, never taking it out - not until now. If Envy had a scent, it would probably still be here.

— What do you want? hisses Edward as they enter the elevator.

Envy does not answer him. Their hands melt toward Edward's hips, fast enough for the guns of their guards to close in on his neck. Envy stops their move. A trickle of blood escapes from under their skin, staining the soldiers' bayonets.

— A cigarette, they simply ask.

Edward pulls his pack from his pocket - soldiers' cigarettes, the one Envy loves. They gave Envy a scent: sour, bitter. It permeates their kisses and caresses. Strong enough to impregnate his skin, as if Edward is always taking Envy with him, wherever he goes. It is stupid, but this detail moves him, reassures him.

(Edward did not sleep either. He drowned in the cream-colored blankets of his bed, searching in vain for the point of gravity that Envy's sleeping body had come to be. In the morning, eyes still unfocused, gestures clumsy, but with the reflex well imprinted in his muscles to search for it, his palms had met nothing. He had dressed, combed his hair, and prepared himself. He had only joined Alphonse at breakfast in the impersonal hotel lobby emptied of its residents for safety. Alphonse had tried to joke, but his heart was not in it. It took the arrival of May, still crumpled from sleep, to ease the tension. May claimed to have slept in her room - as if. Alphonse and May had that pinkness in their cheeks and that music in their gestures - a harmony that only intimacy explains. In the car, as May drove to the Central Archives and they drove to the prison, Alphonse had dared to say a timid:

— It's official.

— Official?

— She's willing to go out with me.

— Al, I think you're a little out of your league...

Al elbowed him in the ribs.

— You're hitting a cripple!

— You are just jealous.

— Jealous of you and May?

— Winry's never around. And you haven't mentioned marriage in two years. Are you still engaged?

— No, Edward admits softly. But you know.

— Yeah. For months now. But I wanted to be sure.

— You approve?

— I think it's a lot of bullshit. But I'm used to you. I know there's nothing I can say that will change your mind. You're an ass.

— Are you surprised?

— No, I'm not surprised.

— This is a bad idea.

— It's a bad idea).

— So? My cigarette?

— Wait until you get outside.

Envy rolls their eyes. The elevator jolts as it painfully takes off. The plates groan under the bare soles of their feet. Envy glares at him. No comment.

(Envy is easily offended but there is one thing that systematically sends them over the edge. Their weight. Every time they got back on the train, it was a circus. Envy put on a dramatic face. They put one foot down. Sigh. Press down.

The train shakes and tilts.

— It's me, you fools, they had to explain the first few times, when the soldiers thought it was an attempted attack.

— The train doesn't go...

— They're made for me to get on. So are your elevators. All your safety standards are my fault, don't thank me.

— I understand, tries Alphonse reassuringly.

Envy glares at him:

— I doubt it.

— I too had a big, heavy body, even though I'm not that tall.

— You, at least, were hollow ).

— Can I have a cigarette? Or am I grounded?

— You've been waiting all night, right? So, wait.

The alchemists exchange confused looks - at least, that is what Edward imagines. Edward may be a legendary alchemist, but Envy is still very much a dangerous monster. And they just got told off. 

— You better have a full pack. Want to fuck my lungs out.

— I got two. Are you happy?

— Never.

Edward notices one tiny difference, though. Their shoulders brush against each other. Not like a blow. No, like a caress. Envy leans in close enough to whisper:

— Hotel soap stinks, and shampoo makes your hair too dry. Even I look neater, and I just spent a night in a basement.

Edward allows himself a sigh. That's okay. It's still the Envy he knows.

Chapter Text

More than once, Envy nearly slips through the guards. Edward knows them too well now. There's that look of mischief, that twinkle. It takes Central to remind Edward of Envy's lethal potential. On the plateau and plains of Resembool, one can easily distinguish the neighbors and passers-by. They make up the horizon: stopping the view, disrupting the smooth harmony of the fields. In Central, Envy could turn into anyone, blend into the crowds, disappear in a blink of an eye. Edward has to grab their arm, almost cling to it. He tries to put a little more gentleness into it after Envy points out to him:

— Feeling like a cop?

Edward had nearly dropped them, almost in disgust. Envy is too unfocused to care: their smoky eyes are glued to the windows. Under Edward's coat, their skin and clothes metamorphose so quickly that there remains only a chamarré mass. Sparks escape from the crimson edges of the coat, embrace their fingers, their neck. A few months earlier, this would have pinched Edward's heart. Envy can do something that Edward is now deprived of - when it has defined him for so long. No matter how many times he tells himself that he understands that it's worth it… Edward is still twenty years old, and he feels amputated, if not a limb, an essential part. He has learned to live without, as he has learned to live with his prostheses. The pain is softer. The mourning, more muted. Nevertheless, with his hand clasped against Envy's ever-changing skin, he finds the familiar sensation of the world transforming under his fingers.

— You're making them anxious, Edward mumbles.

— I'm having fun.

— Too much fun.

— Oh, you love it.

— It's very impressive, he concedes. But please, at least be more discreet.

— As if... begins Envy when a scream interrupts them.

— Ed! Ed, are you really here? I thought you'd never come!

Edward pivots just in time: racing down the stairs as they come, Hawkeye nearly engulfs him in an embrace. Envy stepped aside, their face contorted into a grimace. They remembered the last time they ran into her, thank you. Edward let go of them without even realizing it, leaning in.

— You'd think you'd never come! It's wonderful. You... You look healthy.

— It's the beard, laughed Edward softly, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

She allows herself to run her palms over his face - her fingers are trembling. She almost pats him, as if to make sure he's whole, that it is really him!

— You've grown!

Edward can feel Envy's contemptuous smile.

— Grandma thinks that without the weight of my automail and having to help Alphonse survive, I could finally... I'm an average size.

— You're really a man now. How you have changed and... At the same time not at all. Ten years since I first saw you, ten years... Isn't Al here?

— He's at the archives with May. We must do some research before we can present our first findings.

— Will Al be joining us?

— Yes, he is. He's becoming a state alchemist, like me. I must... I also must prove that I still am.

— You don't have to prove anything, Hawkeye assures him, squeezing his shoulders. You don't. Did you get here this morning?

— Yesterday.

— You should have stayed home. I didn't want you to be disturbed... Roy too. He knows you need to rest and really live.

— It's a little too late, Edward smiles sadly.

— No. No. I've... For the past two years, I've had the right to a safer, quieter life. And so have you.

— It's not too difficult?

— What? Oh, no. No. No. It's... We finally have control over the country. We can do great things. We're going to do great things, we... Mustang…

— Light my cigarette, will you, Envy interrupts, reaching into their pockets. I'll leave you two humans alone.

Edward pulls out a cigarette, lights it between his fingers - Hawkeye stares, moved, at his flesh arm - and places it on Envy's lips.

— Thank you.

They slide their palm over their shoulder and give him a distracted squeeze. This tiny tenderness, which presupposes not only other acts but also a habit, shocks Hawkeye far more than anything else. Envy doesn't even watch them, leaving its neck, its back exposed. From here, Hawkeye could strike. She knows where its three weak points are. She's seen how easy it is to slip a dagger in and let it die, unable to stop degeneration and regeneration alike. She still carries one, tucked into her sleeves like Hughes before her. Roy finds it ridiculous. She can't help it.

— What?  gasps Edward. Oh. It's since... It's since... You know... They have trouble with fire.

— It touched you.

— Uh, yeah. You don't see many people. They are not used to...

— It could kill you.

— It's them, Edward corrects gently. Envy is... Beyond our categories.

— It dresses like a man. And it's not a man, you're right, it's a creature. Don't forget that, Ed. I do not understand, I really do not understand why ... It was not only for ...

— No, admits Edward. I feel responsible. After all that has happened, all that you have seen ... All that could have happened to us. The homunculi were created by my father's people, centuries ago. It's all our fault. It's my family's fault, too.

— Is... Are they your blood?

— Not really my family, Edward suddenly blushes. My father wasn't the only one who gave blood for Father, but it was his blood, his company, his... Father was of the blood of Xerxes, and he earned his body by sacrificing the country. Envy is... They are from my people. But they are not our sibling. Or cousin. They are here because of my father.

— Ed, I... I don't understand anything, she admits. What are you talking about? Your father?

— Al and I owe you an explanation.

— Another day, Ed. I'm just glad to have you back.

(On the streets outside, Envy realize that they have lived. They point out to Edward the landmarks that have escaped the passage of time: churches, temples, old shops, the sides of a road. They had not realized that the world continued to move forward at a speed multiplied every year. It was almost a wonder that age hadn't driven them completely mad).

— Don't make a big deal of it. The situation is very...

— I know. I can feel it. A coup is coming. And I find myself in the middle of the mess, without having to lift a finger. The dream. For once, something works without me having to work like a madman behind the curtain...

Edward is tense to the point of pain. Last night, Alphonse had to readjust the screws of his automail, so much he had tightened up during the first official visits. The Elric brothers are now old enough - and experienced enough - to understand what is going on around them.

— What if it succeeds? he worries.

— What do I know? For centuries you've been alternating between royalty and military empire. You've built yourselves up by swallowing neighboring countries and destroying their populations. Could you see yourself explaining that the massacres of civilians and the so-called industrial incidents and school bombings were in fact means to build a gigantic transmutation circle, all to build up a superhuman army, invade the rest of the continent and make my Father a god? This country is doomed. You won't be able to save it, and certainly not with the truth.

— Will you?

— Is that what you're thinking of telling them? To your colleagues? And you want me to prove it?

— I think I need to tell them the truth. Our present government is managing to keep the peace. A little. This putsch... It will be solved soon. We have the first republican reforms... We are gradually moving towards...

— A presidential regime, cuts in Envy, hardly interested. I saw that you were going to have an advisory assembly, deputies to make decisions, to carry the voice of the people... In short. It's still mustache guy in power. And soon, either the blond girl or the marshmallow toaster. Wasn't she the one who killed Sloth, by the way? Not that it's very glorious, I don't even understand how he managed to last so long... He was barely smarter than Greed, that's how.

— It's her and her brother, yes. She's one of the voices for more Republicanism, surprisingly.

— Not surprisingly. She's used to leading armies. Do you think she's afraid of managing a few citizens? She'll just end up creating her own independent state if you keep this up. It wouldn't be much of a loss, the mountains have never been much use except for the mines...

— You know your stuff, then, Edward understands.

— That was my job, replies Envy dryly. Before you and your brother came along, I was busy with that. Infiltration, spying, surveillance, whispering the right advice in our puppets' ears... I may not be the sharpest of my siblings, but I knew that, thank you. Lust was the warrior, the assassin. I was the administrative one. Did you really think I was stupid?

— You're not very refined when you talk. Or when you fight. I didn't think that...

— I was never supposed to fight or explain my strategies. Especially not to people like you. You see time in years when I see it in decades.

— You're offended, Edward teases.

— I'm trying to set the record straight since you seem to care so much about the truth.

Edward moves closer, pinching Envy's thin arm. They pull away, a pout contorting their face.

— You're offended, Edward insists.

— You won't be laughing when this turns into a civil war. Every day that passes is a day that brings you closer to the fall of this country. You will be invaded by neighboring countries.

— We have the protection of Xing.

— Big deal! And when the alchemists from Xing show up to help, what will they think of the energies that still permeate your soil, of your alchemy? They'll understand, like your little buddy...

— The emperor, Edward corrects with a sigh.

— Like your little buddy before. And the other one there.

— May. You spent several months with her. I know you know your name. You're going to see her at lunch.

— The other is the only nickname I can afford to use for her in your presence. The others, you'd send me back to the basement.

— Do you really think this is going to end badly? approaches Edward.

— This regime was made to fall apart. We expected a civil war on the day we promised. Well, you had to get involved to screw it up, but it was all set up, clean, prepared. Civil war, in the heart of the circle, everyone dies and Central is destroyed enough to dust off and make a palace.

— You didn't believe it.

Envy finally stops their grandiloquent gestures and turns, a huge smile on their face:

— Of course not. What would I have seen of it? Nothing. Father was going to absorb us again and that was it. We knew very well that it would also be the end of us. Only Lust, that kind of fanatic, believed that we would continue to live in him, that it would be better than our current existence... You bet. When we were still in Him, we didn't exist. We existed as much as you do in the balls and ovaries of your parents. Only when He gave us our stones, when He gave us life, did we start to exist.

— Not parts of him, completes Edward. Just...

— Remains.

— No. Like us and my father. You are his children. You would have nothing by returning to him. You would have just ceased to exist.

— Greed passed into him. When He resurrected him. I think so. I don't know anymore. I wasn't thinking about it. I was just glad he was punished. It didn't happen anyway. There's no point in all this.

— You think that...

— I don't think anything! I think I'd like to be able to smoke a cigarette outside and look at the stores, eat on the terrace and sleep in a bed, that's all! You've domesticated me too much, I've developed a taste for all that shit.

— It was like that before, Edward reminds him. I'd like to do something else too, but...

— You're a liar. You don't know how to do anything else.

After a pause:

— No, admits Edward. I've never been shopping. I have plenty of money but... I don't use it. I don't know what to do with it. I'm a little afraid of crowds but...

— You love it.

— Well, okay, he admits with a grimace. But before, it was for a reason. Now I'm just a liar. I have nothing left.

He opens his empty palms - one still blank, still pale. Envy pats - almost scratches - his forehead:

— You still have some there. Maybe you can't do it anymore, but you still know how. That's already better than all the other broken arms that sparkle but not much else.

Edward gives them a smile.

— One day, this will all be over, and you'll be able to live normally. Well, your version of normal.

— You can talk...

— I don't know how I'm going to do it...

— What for?

— They want me to do a demonstration. With Al. And May. I keep ducking out. I can... But I don't know how to tell them I lost my alchemy. I would lose everything. They wouldn't even listen to me anymore.

— I have a solution, Envy cuts him off. I've thought of it.

— Right? But what?

— Oh, you'll see.

Chapter Text

Edward lights up a cigarette, leaning against the cool concrete of the window. After the Promise Day, everything had to be rebuilt. Edward only remembers the ruins. On the façade, you can still distinguish the passage of time and violence: fresh, soft concrete, competing against holes, defects - as if nibbled by time.

— You smoke now? Riza wonders while joining him.

— Oh, it is tobacco from Xing... Ling sends me some regularly. You... Do you want some?

— You are a man now, she mumbles, a small box dancing in between her calloused fingers.

She pulls out a Vogue and Edward is almost surprised he doesn't have to light it for her - he's too used to Envy and their manic fear of fire. 

— Civilians, I mean, women are starting to smoke now. I started on the front lines. They used to give us some with our evening ration. It calms the shaking hands.

Edward is careful to direct his smoke away from her.

— Is Al passing his exam? she adds. Why are you here?

— No. I'm waiting for Envy. Interrogation. Al has his exam tomorrow. We'll do a demonstration, with him and May. 

— The government insisted-

— Yes. To show that the heroes of Central are behind them. I don't really understand what's going on. Al follows all this political stuff very closely. I don't.

— He is not too stressed out?

— Not at all. He's furious. He thinks it's ridiculous. He says he shouldn't have to prove anything, that it's completely stupid.

— He is right, smiles Riza.

— He's exempt from the written exams, at least. He thinks it's crazy that nothing has changed.

— Oh, some things have changed.

— You can't tell.

— Give us some time. Things have to go at their own pace. The balance is already so precarious.

— In two years...

— Two years, Ed, is such a short time, after...

— I know, he cuts in almost too quickly. I know.

Riza crushes the rest of her cigarette, scattering the ashes, and pivots to face the doors. In a room next to theirs, Envy is being interrogated. The regime's executives want to make sure that they really pose no threat - before letting Edward and Alphonse work alongside them.

— It’s waiting to strike, you know? 

Edward turns his head slightly. He was told that in Resembool, their distance was the prison. Here, Envy is in control, and they could take revenge without anything stopping them, neither wall nor door. Edward fears that the guards will take advantage of this short time to murder them. Or that Envy would get them angry enough to break protocol. 

— Do you know how long it took to make a surveillance team that hadn't been compromised in the past? she insists. Every time we found a good profile, our records or interrogations showed that they had been involved. Envy has been everywhere. Everywhere. Having them here is so dangerous. Not for us. To you. You are so vulnerable.

— I know they can change. I told you, I showed you with Greed...

— Greed is not completely innocent, you remember our-

— I know. I know he killed too and... But no one is innocent anymore. No human court will be able to judge what they did and... In this case... My father, the worst of them all. The homunculi are the responsibility of my family. I mean, you... You know.

He repeats himself so much. He feels like he's on the campaign trail. 

— Ed, how are you?

— I'm fine. I am fine.

— How-

Edward interrupts her with a forced, almost squeaky laugh.

— I'm used to losing important things! An arm, a leg, my... I have other things. I have the most important thing. I got Al. And I even got an arm back, which is a bonus.

He is triumphant, still adolescent, but Riza knows him too well.

— And mentally, Ed? Mentally... she insists gently.

— Better.

— Honestly, Ed.

— When I have nightmares, I remember that Al is there, that Winry and Grandma are okay and... And I wait to go back to sleep. That's the way it is.

— You should move back to Central, back here with us. We can help you. There's... The little visits, the cards, the calls, it's not enough. You need us and you need to really start your new life.

— I need some quiet. So does Al and...

— Al also needs to get into life, real life, the... I know what it's like to never want to move when you're good, to stay in your bed, on your couch, in... But you also need to get out. To live. Please. You need to think about the future, not just the future.

— I need some quiet time. I need time for myself.

— Ed, the homunculus is going to have to... We told you about this, right? Envy must be transferred to Central Prisons. For good.

— To be sent to the battlefield? Good luck handling them.

— I know. You and your brother seem to be the only ones who can… access them, talk to them, even direct them.

— Then I would follow Envy into battle. I am a state alchemist, I must...

— No . You don't deserve this.

— Neither does Envy. Nobody deserves this.

She falls silent, tense calibration.

— I know you're upset that I'm protecting the person who killed Hughes, I know. It's not easy for us either, but we... We've lost so much before, so much... I must... We...

— We need your help, a soldier suddenly appears.

Edward is startled, not Riza. He notes that her palm slipped to her belt, without a crease or a rustle of her uniform to betray her.

— The subject is...

— Escaped? cuts in Hawkeye.

— No. He... Uh... We need help.

***

Envy hasn't escaped. Worse. Triumphantly slumped in their seat, they stared at the officer in charge of interrogating them. They even put their feet on the desk, a few centimeters away from the vellum where the poor man is trying to write.

— Fullmetal! There you are at last! I thought the subject was...

— Domesticated? Only if I get treats, smiles Envy.

Edward takes a seat beside them, glaring at them:

— What? exclaims Envy indignantly. I didn't kill anyone! I didn't do anything but stupid question, stupid answer, what else can I do?

Edward doesn't even bother to answer them, drawing a vexed sigh from Envy, and pivots toward the officer:

— Are you discussing our progress? Where are our reports, you...?

— We haven't even gotten that far. I'm trying to establish a referral form and...

— And they don't accept that I contain a multitude, sneers Envy. I'm legion. Full of people.

— Uh, last name? dares the interviewing executive. I...

— This is stupid! These questions don't apply to Envy. You can see that- Stop smiling .

— What? enthuses Envy. Let the man talk.

The officer continues, painfully:

— What about the last name?

— Bradley.

The officer turns pale. Edward almost pinches Envy or kicks them.

— Like- Like-

— Big fan, giggles Envy.

— And for the... I'm sorry, I'll be honest, I shouldn't be here. It's not in my job description, nobody wanted to do this, but I'm still going to have to...

— Envy, stop smiling like a maniac, will you? Breath. Officer, don't mind Envy.

— No, no, I love it on the contrary, giggles Envy.

— You...

The officer adjusts his position in the slipstream - the leather creaks.

— You are... Are you a man?

— Missed.

— Oh, okay, excuse me ma'am, so-

— Missed too. 

Edward wonders if he should yell at Envy or provide salts for the officer, who seems on the verge of slipping off his seat. Envy takes the opportunity to rip the vellum off the officer, as well as his pen. He has the unfortunate reflex to try to catch it, and Envy plays with him for a moment, as one would with a child.

— Envy, Edward carefully articulates. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get out of this office. Your choice.

— I know, I know, smiles Envy, spreading the vellum on their thighs and scribbling absentmindedly.

— Put an X on it so we can get it over with, Edward sights. You just need to make an index card, right? It should be fine.

— I can't, there's never been a case before that would set a precedent, people would ask to...

— Because you've run into a lot of other people like me?

— I don't, I don't know but anything is possible, I, uh...

The officer seeks Edward's gaze, almost desperate:

— Put X, Edward mumbles. You say I threatened you, okay?

Behind their locks of hair, focusing on their scribbles, Envy has a huge smile.

— Address? We have to put Central, in your capacity of...

— As a prisoner of war? sneers Envy.

— Put my home, Edward insists. Envy is in my custody.

— By the way, the officer tries. You-

— Riza Hawkeye , Envy interrupts, raising their voice enough to startle them.

She stood so straight that Edward forgot she was there. Not Envy apparently.

— I’ve felt you on the back of my neck since earlier. Make yourself useful instead of shooting me with your eyes.

They extend a contemptuous arm in her direction, not even condescending to turn. Riza hesitates. Edward gives her an awkward smile. Envy agitates the vellum, still fresh with ink. Riza finally seizes it.

— You will find here the list of traitors still hiding in your ranks. For those whose names I don't remember, give me a few more minutes, and I'll draw them up. Several of these names have a cross following them. They were identities I used to steal. They deserve to be executed, if only as a precaution. In two years, it's a miracle that there have not been more coups. You need to act before you end up with a bullet in your head. This list includes our buddy of the day. How are the kids, Frederich?

— Envy, tries Edward.

— It's... attempts the officer.

— I fucked your wife, Frederich. I've taken your face several times. I know you know. Your job was to kill Grumman if he made an attempt. I see you're not even capable of that.

— I stayed true to...

— No, sneers Envy. You played a double game until late enough to turn around. Two years of service to this decrepit excuse of a man will not erase years of service to us. Not with me. I'll try to be polite, but it's hard when you've seen what I've seen.

— What are you playing at now? leans Edward, right up against their ear.

— The usual, Ed. A coup.

Chapter Text

Envy goes without hesitation, walking the halls of Central as if in conquered territory. Edward knows that Envy witnessed Central's building, barely a century ago, and then its renovation during the industrial revolution fifty years ago. They know every corridor, every door, every passage. Edward struggles to keep up with them, has to catch their arm and squeeze:

— Don't fuck around, he mutters.

— What do you think? If I wanted to do something stupid, I wouldn't have waited for...

— Mustang is here. He is visiting. You know that: you read it in the paper. I saw it.

Envy lets out a sigh:

— As if I would jump at this wonderful opportunity...

Edward squeezes harder.

— I've died enough already, Envy scolds. I'm not going anywhere near that guy. Now make sure it's mutual.

— What?

— I don't want to see or hear from him. His secretary was already too much. I may have killed your friend, but this guy killed my sister.

— It's been years now, you... You have to move on...

— Move on? Two years is the same as two days to me. And my sister is still dead. Would you be polite to someone if they burned Winry to death? Would you?

— You would lose everything.

Everything you have left. That seems to be enough. Envy is surprisingly quick to fall silent. 

— You have a plan, Edward guesses.

— Always.

Edward suddenly stops, tearing a gasp from their troop.

— If you do anything stupid, anything, I swear to everything I hold dear that I will fuck right off to the Gate, catch you there, and beat the living hell out of you. Enough to resuscitate you. Don’t even try. I managed to get my arm and Al’s body back. I know that you homunculus will end up there, eventually, and I will be there too. I went there more times than I went to Central so, trust me. I will come and get you.

— And lose your-

— I don’t have to wait for the beating part if you are so eager.

— I am not gonna off myself. Happy?

— Relieved.

Envy speeds up, their face distorted by an annoyed pout.

— You are a nuisance, you know that?

— And that’s you saying that? I need you, okay. I don’t just appreciate you. I need you.

— You don’t appreciate me. You adore me. Who can blame you? Look at my dazzling…

— Oh, for Christ’s sake, you are making me regret my decision.

Envy speeds up more and more, their face closed, morphing more with each step. 

— I am gonna act differently, you know that? You did not manage to domesticate me enough. I mean, I know how to behave, but don’t expect me to be polite to my traitors, killers, and…

— Like you, you mean?

— That’s different. I was born for this.

— GOD, have you been like that all along? Eh… Eh, stop, you are walking too fast.

They vanish around a corner. Edward now runs.

— Envy… Vy, stop! You-

Envy tackles him against the wall, fists clenched against his collar, and sinks their teeth into his neck. For a moment, just a moment, Edward thinks that this is the end, that he has been tricked like May before him, and then he understands.

— You- You can’t help it, do you!

Each of his words bounces against Envy's lips and teeth. Their fangs sucking and biting. Edward struggles. He can hear the troop gaining ground, and Envy laughs against his neck. They break away just in time, pretending to examine the posters on the walls.

— Did he hurt you? the officer in charge insists, noticing Edward's breathless expression.

— Me? Never.

— No, no, Edward mumbles, glaring at them.

He tries to pull the collar of his shirt over his neck, but to no avail. Already, he can feel the familiar tingling nibble at his skin. Envy smiles like a maniac.

— And here are your offices. The back door leads directly into the library. Several men have been posted there, and you will need to ask permission to check out each shelf. We are concerned that Subject H may be disposing of some items. We don't know all of its abilities so-

— Subject H?

— Me, Envy adds dismissively.

Edward slips into the office. Heavy exotic wood panels, brought back from Xing, heavy furniture, creaky floors... The buildings are old, perhaps even dating back to a century ago – the dust seems to attest to that anyway. The windows swallow up the light from the nearby park, airy enough for them to see through to sunset without difficulty. It must have been a reading room: busts, portraits, coins, medals, stones, stuffed animals, dried plants, statues... emerge from the wall from small niches. The cast-iron structures are deliberately visible, drawing arches and thinner beams to support the plaster bed of the ceiling. Everywhere, reproductions of famous paintings - unless they are originals - compete with flowery tapestries, photographs, porcelains, engravings, vases, bronze statuettes, and even several clocks. The room diffracts, deforms, lengthens in so many mirrors. They are everywhere.

— Can we close the door? Edward dares. We are talking about confidential matters and some experiments...

— It's for your safety.

— It's been two years if Envy hasn't done anything so far, it's certainly not here that-

— We'll have two men at the door and two in the hallway that leads you to the library. But if the subject prevents you from shouting...

Edward nearly elbows Envy, who smiles far too hard.

— I'll be good, I promise. Can I have some pencils?

— Some...

— Supplies, completes Edward. And can we set up a bed, please? We'll be working late, and Al is still recovering.

— We'll have some extra beds moved in, notes the officer in charge. Do you need specific materials?

— Did my boxes arrive?

— Yes, we made room on the lower shelves for you to store them.

— How long are we going to stay?

— That's not for you to decide.

Envy raises a disapproving eyebrow, like a customer disappointed in the waiter's tone.

— If it were up to us, you'd stay in your prison, the guard adds.

— I thought everything had changed, that it was a new era, smiles Envy. I guess not. It's good to be back in old Central.

— I've got it under control, sighed Edward. I've had it under control for two years. Go back to dealing with the coup, you can see that the danger is not subject H right now.

Envy smiles. They have rarely seen Edward interact with his superiors, and they are not disappointed

— We'll be at the various access points, ready to intervene. You better not...

— Let them get away? Oh, not at all.

Their eyes meet, and that's enough. Edward closes the door, pushes them against the desk, and fucks them.

***

Envy has fallen asleep on the floor, rolled in his coat. Their skin gleams against shiny woods, their hands still pink, their veins bluish. They look like a just executed pastel. All in delicacy, except in the details. Short nails, calloused palms, contracted shoulders and under the coat, firm muscles.

— Getting a bed was worth it, uh? Edward mumbles while adjusting the folds. 

He scratches his neck mechanically. Envy has let loose, probably to get even. If that's all it is, he'll be fine. He will wear his shirt slightly raised. The office is soundproof, thank God.

— Ed?

Edward looks up, almost too quickly. The door slams shut, and right against it, Alphonse. 

Alphonse staring at him, eyes huge.

— What are you doing?

— Uh, I, Edward stammers pitifully, realizing far too late that his pants are lying on the other side of the room and that his thighs are marbled with bruises and semen. Uh, we've been fighting.

Alphonse doesn't even bother to answer him, grabbing his pants to better throw him. He comes to collapse in one of the club chairs, the knees loaded with old books.

— At least put a chair in front of the door. Someone could open the door without knocking. You know, like I just did?

— Yes, yes, stammers Edward. Well, when you're polite, you knock.

Edward tries to open the windows - blocked, of course. He notices that in front of the windows, they even added nets. Useless. Nothing would be enough to hold Envy back, except the Elric brothers. While fucking, as Envy slid their hand to his throat, into his hair, leaned almost too hard on his chest, Edward wondered if there would be a moment when everything would fall apart. If this was all just a vast sham, just another game Edward was locked into. At any moment, Envy could end it.

— Ed, Alphonse approaches.

— Yeah, yeah? What?

A few minutes earlier, Alphonse would catch them in a much less dignified position.

— You know that I know, right?

— Yes, but...

— You know I knew it wasn't just... chaste? Ed, your ears are bright red, you know that. What do you think I am?

— I thought this was a bad idea. You are... You are not upset? 

Alphonse takes a deep breath:

— Ed. You've always gotten yourself into trouble. I almost expected it, and I'd rather it be that than you falling into an addiction. I don't know, alcohol, games, or combat sports... If Envy does anything stupid...

He barely restrains himself from snapping his fingers.

— So, no. I am not upset.

— May knows?

Alphonse's gaze slides, involuntarily, to Edward's neck. 

— May will lend you her powders, he chuckles. At least we are discreet.

— I still feel like we're children... 

— We haven't been kids for a long time. I've only had a body for two years, Ed, and I want to enjoy it. To enjoy everything. You... I always wondered if you were punishing yourself. Not letting yourself enjoy your body because of me. Not because of me. Because of me.

— Yes, Edward finally admits.

Even eating took me a long time. Before... I didn't want to eat in front of you, and I love to eat. The other things, I preferred to wait and then... After that, in the last few years, before the promised day, we had no time, we… We had time for nothing. I still have a little bit of trouble with... In Resembool, everything was easier. But here?

— Are you afraid?

— Afraid of losing everything, yes, Edward admitted, his fists clenched. I can't... I can't enjoy myself under these conditions.

— May and I will go to a restaurant if you like, afterward. We've been offered the best table. Come. Come, please.

— Envy is...

— Envy is safe here. And you, you're allowed to have a little...

— No, not when they-

— You used to say the same thing about me, Ed. It never helped me to see you go without. What could you have done? Deprived yourself of sleep? Food? Body? Don't you dare? You've already sacrificed enough. So have I. I've had enough.

— You are going to join the army, Al. You are going to-You will understand that you have no choice, no right, no...

— That's what we'll see, laughs Alphonse. Do you think you were obeying orders? Oh, I've been working for the army for years. It's time I am getting paid for it.

— And what if everything falls apart?

Alphonse grabs his shoulders and squeezes. Sometimes Edward forgets that he is taller than he is, that he is indeed a man, with an uncanny resemblance to their mother. He has her jaw, her eyes, right down to those details that make a person recognizable:

— Ed, this country was nearly destroyed when you were just seventeen.

— I have nothing, no more...

— One is everything, everything is one, Alphonse repeated. The Promised Day, like today, you have us. Without me, big brother, and without the others, you would never have made it. We'll figure it out. In the meantime, breathe.

Edward slides his palms over Alphonse's hands, squeezing them gently. He finally smiles at him.

— You're making too much noise, Envy mumbles, turning in their sleep.

— We have work to do, Alphonse sighs.

Chapter Text

Al went back to the hotel to sleep. May came by to greet them, her arms full of volumes and her hands covered with notes when she ran out of paper.

— We're still working, Edward declined when the soldiers had come for Envy.

They allowed themselves one more night.  A little more than one night. Every time, Edward cannot help but feel surprised that they are doing it. Fucking. For real. fucking them. Envy has no shame, no fear. Years of switching bodies and sides get you used to every position. But Edward can still sense that something is sleeping deep inside them. Somethings that Edward does not yet know - or understand. Somethings that Envy does not yet admit to. Then what? Envy is afraid - and certainly not ashamed - of much.  Barely dressed, their thighs glistening of fluids, they leaf through the newspaper and absentmindedly correct typos in Edward's drafts. Edward does not yet have this kind of energy. He needs several minutes - as if to assimilate what has just happened.

— Are you going to have a panic attack, or are you coming back to work like a big boy? They'll suspect something eventually.

— Do you think they heard? murmured Edward.

—  I have been discreet.

— I-

— Stop stressing, Ed. They don't suspect anything. Why would they? I know my charm is inevitable but...

— I'm serious.

Envy puts the paper down, eyebrows furrowed, pouting:

— Oh, come on, I know I don’t look like Lust. They can see I am not human, I am not even pretending. They're not going to imagine me fucking you.

— Hey, that's the…

— It's up to you, teases Envy. I'm fluid.

— I'm kind of like you.

— Fluid? snickers Envy.

— No, I mean…. Not human. Al and I can't call ourselves human anymore, can we? I mean, our dad was made of stones and human sacrifices and...

— What's wrong with that?

— What are we? Al and me?

— Ah. An identity crisis.

Edward sinks into the bed, painfully resisting the temptation to smoke a cigarette.

— You. It shows.

— What? mumbles Envy, their stomach curled up on the carpet.

— That you are not human.

— No? Plus, you know what I really look like.

— There's something... We can't figure out what. Grandma noticed it. Winry did too, but Winry thought... She asked me why you don't look like Greed. Or President Bradley. Or Selim.

— The kid was born from a human body. Greed squatted in one. That's all there is to it. Selim... Selim, I always wondered how you couldn't tell. You can tell. A child, it's unbearable, I know, I've pretended to be enough kids but... It doesn't look like that. It doesn't sound like that.

— There's something wrong with you too.

— Lovely. Are you implying I'm shit at my job?

— No. It's not your body. It's- It's always there. There's something wrong. I don't know, you're...

— Too clean. Too smooth. Not enough wounds or blemishes or scars. I know, I know. No wrinkles, no dark circles, nothing. If I want. I'm perfect.

— Grotesque, Edward articulates. That's the word I was looking for. Grotesque. It's too much.

— I could change that.

— I don't know. I think it will always be there. It's like alchemy. I can't create like nature. There will always be something wrong. It shows. It shows that we didn't make it with our hands or that it didn't grow naturally. It's the same for you. You have a humanoid form, not a human one. You can feel it when you look at yourself for too long.

(Sometimes, when Edward is still scribbling in his notebooks or making notes in margins, Envy transforms. They move to the edge of the bed, believing themself to be slightly out of sight, and sparks come crackling across the surface of their skin. They change their waist, the shape of their toes, or the height of their eyebrows. Sometimes they come together, and sometimes they do not.

— What, Ed? Don't tell me that turns you on, I...

— No, nothing. Just warn me next time.

— What are you trying to do?

— I want to become Miette. But Alphonse never falls for it. I'm sick of it… Why? Does it scare you?

— It's not that, Edward suddenly admits. I miss it.

— You humans will never have the same abilities or powers as...

— I don't care if you're immortal or can survive anything. I… I miss it.

— Miss what?

— Transmuting. I miss alchemy.

— I don't create anything, Ed. I transform. You still have a body. So do I.

— I can't do anything anymore.

Envy cannot understand. They cannot even imagine what it is like to be human. To have a soul, a breath, a life, and not thousands that scream when they try to sleep. To be mortal, finite, limited. They have already lived more than the combined length of two human lives and feel like they have seen nothing. Edward bleeds when he hurts himself, and a rusty nail could lead to an amputation. Alphonse gets sick when he eats, and Winry has scabs and blisters on her fingers. Den has a white mouth and cannot go upstairs anymore. Miette has grown phenomenally fast and will age just as much. Envy is not only of a different species. They are from another time).

Envy gets up with an evil smile and, sliding over Edward’s still sleeping body, comes to kiss him:

— And now I look grotesque enough? You're lucky I'm rusty... A remark like that not so long ago would have earned you...

— You would have decapitated me, yes, yes, I know.

They kiss lazily. Almost out of habit. As if it were not shocking, not serious, as if it were nothing.

— We don't want to be like you, Envy resumes, undoing his braid. I don't want to have all your flaws. Your dark circles. Your scars. Your missing limbs. Your asymmetries. Your broken bones. Your tired muscles. Your moles, your pimples... Are you afraid?

— It's an instinct. Not just rational... Why are you smiling like that?

— Every other time you talk to Alphonse, it's me.

—  What?

— Alphonse sleeps much more than you think. And you, not enough. Wait. You didn't know?

— But why did you...

— You were complaining about me! I wanted to know what you were saying about me behind my back.

— But you could have told me!

— No, I was waiting to see when you would get it. Sometimes I would swap with Alphonse, and we would make bets to see when you understood.

— And why Alphonse?

— Because Winry and I did it for a year without you noticing, and then she left. I bet you wouldn't know the difference, and I won.

— But... but what money? And what are you going to use it for?

— Wait, is that what's so shocking to you? Not that you can't tell the difference between the woman you should have married and the creature you're fucking? Are you kidding me?

— No, that's... Okay, I'm impressed. I didn't see that.

— I know, I know.

— I could never have done that. No alchemist could have done this.

— Centuries of training, you can't make that up. Even you...

At times, Envy seems to forget that Edward is no longer an alchemist, as if some of that possibility remains within him, viscerally ingrained. As if it could not be amputated. As if the outline of it remained, like the stump signals the leg that was once there.

Edward thought he was adjusting. This was not his first amputation and certainly not his worst. Edward could have died of infections, shock, sepsis: bodies do not shed limbs without resistance. That he survived the operations, the prostheses, the blows, and the scars were a miracle.

Edward consciously destroyed his body, ensuring that he was doing all of this for a future he didn't even know he was alive for. He was doing everything for Alphonse. Of course, he was doing everything for Alphonse. He would have sacrificed everything for Alphonse. He gave his dominant hand, his good leg, and then... And then his whole life.

At home, it was easier. Winry and Pinako do not need alchemy to create. They can make an arm out of nothing, a leg... Alchemy has never tried to imitate flesh - only Envy can - but humans have found other ways to compete with - no,  complement  - the natural order. They do not need alchemy to create.

Edward always forgets that he has his hand back: it still seems absurd. An arm against a brother. It is worth finding Alphonse every morning, his hair a mess, his jaw drawing, a bit of stubble at the corner of his smile. It is worth all the tricks of the trade.

Edward does not know it, but both Alphonse and Envy limit their transmutations and transformations when he is around. Envy only deals with details, knowing that humans do not appreciate when you show up with a new face every morning. And if Envy knows how to be cruel, it is because they know what hurts. 

Alphonse, on the side, understands. He knows how his brother feels. He has had to mourn the loss of his flesh. He spends years in another body, another life entirely. Edward can live without alchemy: most of the population does just fine. He still has his mind, and enough tales to fill a lifetime. Edward could vanish. Like the alchemist from the west before him, returning to the desert after a few years of serving the Xing Emperor, his legend is made).

— Tomorrow, I'm going to have to tell them I can't do it anymore, Edward reminds them, brushing Envy's locks away from their face.

(For days, they tried to find a solution:

— I can activate alchemy remotely, May offers. We can get into the demonstration site ahead of time and... 

— No way, it'll be guarded and noticed, there'll be... They'll be looking at the smallest details, you know them, Al, they'll never let that go. I haven't been seen in years and...

— It's my first public appearance, Alphonse tries. The public will be focused on me.

— The state alchemists and the government have already seen you. You went up to Central for the ceremonies, reminds Edward. It's them I'm worried about. If they send a delegation to investigate...

— They wouldn't dare, Envy intervenes.

— And why?

— Because if it gets out that an alchemist can lose his chemistry, I can guarantee that the problem will be beyond you. Not that it's hard...

— They probably won't say it in the papers but... I don't want them to know, okay? I don't want anyone to know.)

— I told you I'd take care of it, Ed.

— You can't, what are you gonna do, what are we... It's never coming back.

— I'm not the Truth or Father or your father. I can't work a miracle. But I can pretend.

— Can you?  Oh .

Envy smiles so hard.

Chapter Text

They can't believe it.

— It was incredible! Did you see their faces? Even Mustang... It was...

— We were incredible!

Alphonse almost collapses in one of the club chairs, his frail body against the curved armrest. He can't stop laughing. He's running out of breath already but can’t help it. May kneels, takes his palms, squeezes them as if to convince himself that all this was real and Alphonse can't stand it anymore, he leans over and kisses her. Their fingers are still trembling, you can almost read the flashes of alchemy in them.

— Oh, wow? winces Edward. Right in front of me?

May Chang takes off her heavy belt, where she has slipped each of her blades. She lays it on the table, scattering their notes and pencils. She massages her back with a sigh, stretches her muscles that the demonstration has tired.

Alphonse, Edward, and May looked so small, so frail compared to the troops and state alchemists all reunited. Their civilian clothes against their uniforms. The more they grow, the more they realize how young they were. Alphonse had clutched his cane tighter. May had searched the crowd in vain for compatriots: almost all the citizens of Xing, immigrants or assimilated to Armestris, had fled after the Promised Day. It took all of Ling's diplomatic efforts to keep relations between the various countries going. As other neighboring powers were armed and prepared, the empire's support was invaluable. However, the people of Xing are becoming scarcer. 

Alphonse and May's couple would not have been shocking a few decades earlier, when commercial and scientific ties were at their peak. It now attracts curiosity, eyedrops from every corner... They try not to show it too much out of respect for protocol. Thank god, people are far too busy staring at Alphonse. They seem kind of disappointed. It is a shame that he is not taller, that he is finally a kid under the armor, with dark circles, acne spots, messy hair, and a still hesitant walk.

This afternoon, after their demonstration, Alphonse will become a state alchemist. The final exam will be brief, in a small committee. The State alchemists have promised to show no mercy or delicacy to this young man who has more than proven his talents. Alphonse doesn't care. All he can think about is their demonstration and his overwhelming success.

— You were wonderful, he keeps repeating.

Their alchemies blended with an almost insulting perfection. They have exchanged their techniques and learning books. Through these two years, they combined the alchemy of their father and Father. They complete each other, even in the shades of colors. Each extracts its strength from a different point in the earth. Where the state alchemists continue to draw their powers from the movement of the humans who populate the land, Alphonse strives to return to the sources of alchemy: movements and collisions of tectonic plates. The heart of their planet. Elixorology regenerates and sanitizes their alchemy.

— Do you think they noticed? says Edward one last time.

— Probably not. They were too fascinated, said Alphonse. It's incredible, I- I thought I'd lost my- But it's all there, and...

— Even better, smiled May Chang.

Their knowledge and experience, even blunted by these years of peace and remission, make them even more powerful. Where, as teenagers, they had had to fight for their lives and their country, it came to them with almost insulting ease. They hardly needed to communicate, instinctively sensing each other's movements.

— A dance, says May Chang. Our energies were in tune.

Edward barely holds back a sigh. 

— And you… Alphonse finally turns. That was...

— I thought I was rusty, smiles Edward. But it's okay, right? Not bad. Not bad...

— How did you do it? turns May, absentmindedly massaging Alphonse's palms.

— I got better, even, Edward continued.

His fingers come to play with May's blades. He hesitates to juggle them.

— But the birds? How did you get the birds to come out?

— Oh, call the Humane Society while you're at it...

— How? leans over to Alphonse. Those birds came out of you, how...

The door of one of the closets suddenly opens, making them jump.

— Of what? bursts out an indignant voice.

— Birds, Edward sums up with a sigh as a perfect copy of himself emerges from the narrow space.

— Don't worry, nobody noticed. It was towards the end. It blended in with the rest, Alphonse assures him.

The real Edward adjusts his shirt, his hair. He looks at least as out of breath as they do.

— How did it go? he gasps.

— Very well. The classics. Everything is new, too. It's easy to transmute. With May, you can do some pretty amazing things and...

— You... You've grown! Edward suddenly chokes, looking at the fake Edward.

— I've fulfilled your dream, Envy pivots, a huge smile spreads across their face, finally regaining their appearance.

Envy sits up in the bed and pulls out the crude dummy supposed to imitate them. It was Edward's idea, silly but apparently just silly enough to fool the guards.

— Envy made animals appear, trees... Now everyone thinks you've mastered natural alchemy too. And that you apparently have the power to create life and...

— Oh, like people are going to focus on that detail, Envy sneers. They'll say they were robots. 

— But how?

Envy gurgles the back of their throat and spits, splattering the floor. May, Alphonse, and Edward stare at them, stunned. In a few seconds, the saliva coagulates, quivering, bubbling, and then turning to dust.

— Nothing is lost, everything is transformed, Envy ironically summarizes. I can do that too...

A pistol suddenly forms in their hand. Aiming at the chandelier, they break the crystals. Alphonse immediately rushes to May, protecting her from the shards. Rather than getting stuck in the ceiling, the bullet crumbles. Its powder doesn't even have time to hit their foreheads.

— You can shoot? Edward finally realizes.

— I can also slit your throat in your sleep if that's what you're worried about.

— Does it cost you much to do it? Alphonse steps forward, taking the gun between his palms.

Rather than answering, Envy grabs one of Edward’s strands and pulls. Alphonse rushes to separate them, in vain:

— I washed my hair this morning!

— You see, summarizes Envy by shrugging their shoulders.

— You need to hide that ability.

— We'll see how many years of torture it will take, Envy summarizes dryly. It's all about timing. I can't split myself up, for example. But birds, with enough momentum… It’s like pulling out hair, a nail, a tooth. They are not sentient.

— I've never seen that from you before, Alphonse admitted.

— And I and Al fought you.

— You won by surprise, mumbles Envy. Now I know your little techniques.

— And so do we, reminds Alphonse. But... Bravo. Well done, everyone.

— A cigarette, demands Envy.

Edward complies. He notices that Envy has kept his coat - it was the only part of their disguise that wasn't them and was Edward. Now that he knows that Envy's clothes are also a bit of their skin, he almost finds it more erotic to see them dressed in real materials than naked.

— And Envy...

— Mm? they lean in.

— Thank you.

— For preserving your reputation?

— No. For reminding me what I can do.

Envy doesn't know how to answer. They avoid his gaze, chewing on the filter of their cigarette.

— Do you miss it?

— It's just one more thing to mourn. But thanks to this, I have Alphonse, I'm alive, so... It's worth everything else.

— I know you. Do not pretend.

They are both silent. Finally, Envy pushes the cigarette away from his face and kisses him, more tenderly than usual.

— This isn't the first time I've lost a limb. There have always been solutions. Tools. People to help me. Alphonse still can and I think maybe... Some of it is in our blood? It's not lost, just for me and I took advantage of it, more than I should have.

— If I couldn't transform myself...

— But you, it's your nature. Me, I'm human, it's... Most people don't need to. 

Envy is still wearing his red coat. Tucked into the folds of his pocket, Edward hears the watch chain clank. Alphonse insists he wears it on his belt, but he doesn't feel up to it. Its weight at his sides is like a wound. He pretended it was rubbing against his scar, but Alphonse is not stupid 

— I can't say I miss it, Edward finally admits. It's not fair to Alphonse. He's worth a lot.

— I know you can live without a brother. I know.

— I have...

— Is Alphonse there? No. It's just me. And you. Stop for two seconds. Say that it pisses you off.

— It pisses me off. Yeah... It pisses me off. I wish I had it back.

— Are you coming to the restaurant?

Alphonse was still waiting for him outside. May Chang had already gone home: she wanted a shower, a break, a nap. Speaking another language all the time was wearing her out, as well as all the protocol efforts.

— Only for a drink. Otherwise, they'll put Envy back in the basement and...

— The cab already has the address. I can't wait! I couldn't take any more of Grandma's alcohol.

Edward teases his stomach:

— Watch your figure, brother.

— And you, watch your lungs, Alphonse replies immediately, with a smile.

— You're an idiot. A smoke and we go?

Alphonse nods and moves aside just enough to avoid the smoke.

— I'm happy. I'm happy for you, Edward admits with his first puff. I was afraid, now that we've got our bodies back, that there would be nothing left, that... But you have May. And then soon the expeditions. And your alchemist's diploma...

— I don’t know, Alphonse suddenly admits.

— You… You what?

— I don't want to join the army anymore. I know that Mustang and the new government have changed a lot, but it's still not enough, still and... No one has been punished yet. Everything continues as before. Justice, reparations were promised, but we barely have any compensation for Ishval and... The more I talk with Envy, the more we trace back the history of our country, the more disgusted I am, the more horrified I am... So much more is needed. I can't stand it anymore. And then living with them, watching us, watching us... When Envy made their escape attempt, they said they would burn the forest and bomb the area until they found them. That they won't kill them, but they'll weaken them enough, and then they'll send them back to prison. And you know what for? As a weapon against other countries if they tried to invade us. They want to expose the existence of homunculi and use it as a weapon. Just like before! Just like before, damn it! Nothing has changed. I can't...

— I wanted to protect you from this, remember Edward. I didn't want you to become an army dog. If there's a war, they'll probably send me to make the battlefield look pretty, but there's nothing I can do, I... I'm sorry, that's selfish.

Alphonse slides his palms over his.

— I understand, big brother. Xing protects us. The other countries leave us alone. But we did... we did so much. We invaded, looted, all to make the big circle, but- But the army accepted, supported. I'm starting... I'm doubting so much... I don't want us to repeat our father's mistakes. We must prevent that. And if I become a state alchemist... I... I'm sorry, but after all this, just the sight of a uniform... I can't take it anymore.

Alphonse's words are painful, trembling.

— It's not safe here anymore. They want me to join the army, to go fight. They don't have their little hero anymore, their... Uh, sorry, Ed...

— Don't worry. I've matured.

— If not grown up? laughs Alphonse.

Edward lets his eyes roll back in their sockets, letting out a sigh.

— They want me to be their mascot. The boy who got his body back. Of course, they're not going to say it's because of a rock or your sacrifice. They'll make something up, say it's me, our research, our... I don't know. They'll figure it out. Their little propaganda... Before, when we didn't know, that... But now? You didn't go back to Ishval. I did and... You should have seen your superiors. They thought they were saviors. We were in the middle of ruins, makeshift graveyards, people in tears, and... They were throwing parties! Cocktails! Visits with great pomp and circumstance! They made a genocide into a...  We never apologized to the countries we invaded, to the borders we... The more Envy talks, the more I... I thought I would hate Father. That I would hate Father, too. But... But it's so much more complicated... And also simpler. We managed to save the population, to kill Father but... But the problem is still there. And if they use Envy to threaten neighboring countries, even without a declaration of war... What are we going to do?

— I thought that searching, collecting, sending everything to them... That would be enough. But all our reports are classified.

— Even I thought it would be okay. I'm a civilian, I don't... I'm afraid I'll end up like Doctor Marcoh. Do you know what Envy says about him? I'm quoting because I can't... I can't forget... « So kind, always ready to save good people... I saw him sacrifice hundreds, hundreds of prisoners. And to heal, what did he use? His stone. Blood for blood ». How long can we hold out?

— Al, please.

— I've met a lot of people who were doing their best. Who thought they were doing something for their country, their families, their fellow citizens, and who...? That's the way it is. That's the way it's always been.

— When I deserted, in the maquis with Greed and the others, what I had done when I joined the army, Edward admits softly. Darius and Heinkel helped a lot. I never killed anyone, at least… Directly, anyway... 

— So, what are we going to do?

— I don't know what to do. I don't have... I don't have a plan yet.

— You're a liar. I know you.

— I have... Let's just wait a little longer, okay? Just a little bit.

Chapter Text

Envy has not slept all night, they are exhausted. The prison stank of death: their own death, his sister's death. There may not even be ashes left, but Envy knows. They know everything that happened. The library smells of nothing but old books and the dust of centuries, but he can't forget the smell of the cellars. Anyway, he doesn't sleep when Edward is away. They are too afraid that the soldiers will take advantage of it. They slipped into a corner, and even in the extremely short time the two brothers were away negotiating with their superiors, Envy thought that would be the end. One day, the Elric brothers will not open the door. One day, they will be alone. Better to be prepared for that.

One day, the Elric brothers will not open the door. One day, they will be alone. They better be prepared.

So, when Alphonse comes to sit at the end of the bed, they only pretend to get up and rub their eyes.

— Weren't you supposed to be at the restaurant?

— Ed and May are there, yep. I picked up something for the house. And for you.

— It was Ed who made you come back, wasn't it? So they wouldn't throw me back in jail?

— Yes and no. Here you go. I got you the food and dessert. You're not allergic to... Oh, yeah, that's right. There's tartar. I know you like meat.

Envy hastily removes the dishtowel from the glass dish and would have thrown themself in with their fingers if Alphonse hadn't slipped them some cutlery:

— Thank you. Aren't you taking anything?

— The starters were enough for me.

— Have a piece of the dessert. Ed had brought in a metal tray, so I already ate a little. Damn, I've missed this.

— It's not grandma's or the cafeteria food, yes, Alphonse admitted with a laugh. We're always spoiled at Central. The life of a state alchemist-

— Are you one of them?

— They're still finishing the paperwork, but... Yeah. That's it. My watch is being melted down, I'm told. I'm gonna be like Ed.

— And you're not celebrating with your girlfriend? Envy notes, mouth full.

— May and I will have our whole lives to see each other. It's only one night, and I know I'll find her again... And then...

— You're doing this for Ed.

— Yes. And no. I owe it to you, he joked. You and Winry were the only ones who gave me something to eat other than those horrible diet meals...

During the first few months of remission, the whole household fed Al, thinking they were being discreet. Winry would slip him fresh fruit at night when everyone else was pretending to sleep. Edward slipped him pre-cut pieces of bread, cookies, cakes, under the table. Pinako left him her cup of coffee. Even Envy started trying to bribe him with a cigarette. The kid choked.

He is permanently ill, of course. One bite of food can be too much, a flower can trigger asthma, and if each step is a step closer to winning, the aches and pains that follow wake him up at night. Doctors follow one another. Envy tries to differentiate between the physiotherapist, the neurologist, the surgeon, the cardiologist, the endocrinologist, the dermatologist... Even at Central, it continues. Alphonse will have to visit the hospital regularly. He gets around with the help of a cane. He leans against walls, ramps, catches his breath.

(Envy doesn't even admit it to himself, but Alphonse's recovery is driving them crazy. 

He rejoiced at the swelling of his belly as he ate. He had burst out laughing when, sniffing a flower, he sneezed for the first time. He shaved every morning, just to feel the blade kiss his cheeks. He had looked directly into the sun. He was happy to get a sunburn, while Edward lectured him on applying the cream. Alphonse said he was becoming truly human again, through these little joys and sorrows.

Envy can do all that too. Except for burning in the sun, their stone would take care of that, but the rest they can do. Envy wonders every day what sets them apart, other than their powers and relative longevity. The Elric will probably live longer than average, thanks to their father. If Alphonse is weakened and Edward has sacrificed his alchemy, they are still fierce fighters, smart kids, sons of gods. But the others? The others are also capable of wonders. Winry, as well as granny, can do magic with their fingers, reconstructing whole limbs out of metal, even perfecting them. Envy was capable of creation, but only on their flesh. In this home of creators, they are only one of them.)

— You're a good influence on Ed. My brother can be stupid sometimes. He's full of guilt, I know, I know, he blames himself for everything. He wants to save everyone.

— He feels sorry for me, Envy confirms, scratching their head.

— No, he... He blames himself so much, for things he could never... I blame myself too, but I have time to make peace with it all, to focus on what comes next, not what I missed. We were kids. We still are. Ed's vulnerable, which makes him weak to handle. He can be stupid, impulsive, and you know...

— I'm not manipulating your brother. And even if I did, I wouldn't act like that

— If you hurt my brother, I...

— Look, kid, right now, you all have ways of killing me from the inside, in two seconds. I know all you have to do is snap your fingers, and you can destroy my stone. Do you think I'm happy about that? Do you know who I was living with until recently? A guy who could dissolve me over some bullshit. I guess it continues with you. I'm trying hard enough, don't you think? If you're looking for manipulation, ask yourself why I'm so patient... If I escape, I get burned. If I resist, I get blown up from the inside. How would you feel?

— I don't know. I just want to protect my brother.

— I'm not going to do anything to him. Nothing he won't watch, anyway.

— That's the point. He's lost.

— Look, I'm not a fan or a money-grubbing, fame-hungry asshole who's here to bang your brother and then run off to tell all the local papers about it. I'm here and not because I want to or have a choice.

— My brother is still young and...

— Everybody is young to me, okay? Your grandmother is not even a third of my age. Forget about my centuries. It doesn't mean anything after a while.

— I'm afraid he's confusing his fascination with alchemy, with everything you are... I'm afraid he's confusing it with...

— With attraction? He can't forget what I look like. Nobody can forget what I look like.

— And Winry...

That's one word too many:

— You know your brother better than I do, jackass, and I guarantee you it wasn't my sweet ass that changed his mind! What did you want? To lie to that poor girl? To force himself to stay with her for years? She is like his sister? Who marries his sister? And he doesn't like women, are you having trouble understanding or what? You're supposed to be a little genius and you don't get it? Do I have to explain this to you?

— Winry would have accepted a white wedding and...

— And wasted several months of her life lying, and all the rest of her short life getting remarks, rumors, and judgments because she couldn’t make the Fullmetal alchemist happy or faithful? Don't forget who you are.

— Exactly!

— Exactly what? Spread the rumor that he's a fucking womanizer, like the arsonist! He wasn't sleeping with anyone, it worked out fine!

Alphonse betrayed a moment of astonishment. Mustang has managed, years later, to maintain its reputation. But Envy's no fool, thank you, they had spies right up to his adoptive mother's brothel.

— Ed was always... more complicated.

— You can say dumb.

— Dumb, Alphonse admits. He was always dumber, clumsier with his emotions. I've had more time to mature, too, and think things through, but... That's how it is. He has trouble understanding certain things. He's smart but he's...

— If I wanted to manipulate one of the Elric brothers, that would be you. You only think about eating in secret because you've been dreaming about it for years. I have years of experience with Glut. And why would I go and manipulate you like that? There are more effective ways, your guilt, for example, your pity. And why- Why would I do that? I could jump out of this window and run away.

— I thought you just wanted revenge, Alphonse admits.

Envy shrugs carelessly:

— You know, when you're immortal, you get used to losing. I've had many other lives, and I'm made of many lives. That's all there is to it. You and your brother will grow old and die, and I'll still be here. Look at you. You're changing so fast.

— So are you. Doesn't it feel too weird?

— To?

— To change your life like that?

— Oh, this? Well, listen, isn't it too weird to have flesh instead of a tin can?

— It's not the same.

— Oh, because I'm on a moral journey? I'm still the same. Drop me at Central, and you'll see what I'm capable of. I'm also capable of reason, thank you. And tired.

— You see, you've changed.

— Aged, maybe. Look at Pride. Four hundred years, it's driving you crazy. I'm going backward, like him.

— Pride was still cruel. I know he was. He inhabited my body for several- I heard him, I saw him, I- He was a monster.

— So was I. But we're not human. We don't fit your criteria. When you are made of thousands of lives, one more or one less, it doesn't matter.

— On that subject, dare Alphonse. I don't know if Ed has forgiven you or...

— Ed won't forgive anything. He's an atheist. Forgiveness is for Christians. I don't understand you. What power do you think you have to say you're above my crimes? It's done, that's all. And I'm still here. I killed a man, and I died several times for it. Are you forgetting that I killed children? Civilians? What's serious, in your scale of values? The arms I broke for Ed? The systems I put in place have killed more people than my hands.

— Do you have any regrets?

— Not about what you want.

— I can't understand that.

— No, you can't. You can explain but you can't understand. No forgiveness and no jail time.

— You still think you're better than us?

Envy looks up to the sky:

— I am immortal. I can't be hurt, and I can take any shape I want. I can't do little clap claps, but even you...

— You're a species that doesn't reproduce, that will-

— No need. But we weren't meant to be. We were here for Father. For Father. I knew I was going to disappear on the Promised Day. Now you-

— Now you have your life.

— No. Now I'm here.

(Edward and Alphonse both want to leave the army. They want to become researchers, to heal the people and the country, and bring world peace or something.

Edward and Alphonse don't have the words to explain how they feel. They thought they were working for good, but it meant betraying their country, their colleagues, their friends. They lived for years with adults - no, not adults, war criminals.

Edward is thinking of going to Ishval. He wants to encourage the reconstruction effort, and Alphonse would like to help him: they don't understand that the last thing these survivors want to see is these two white kids, still, in uniform, who assure them that giving them back their land, their ruins, their cemeteries are enough to resurrect the dead.)

— You should try the ponytail, mumbles Envy, staring at him from the corner.

— It wouldn't look good on me, Alphonse refuses. And long hair is Ed’s thing.

— The beard too? complains Envy.

— Have you noticed that he shaves less?

— I didn't notice, I suffered.

Alphonse allowed himself a little laugh.

— He was afraid of looking too much like Dad and... Well, Father.

— Tell me about it, grinnes Envy.

— At least it proves that he'll look good. He's changing his style.

— Thanks to me, recalls Envy. His leather outfits were no longer possible, they sent the wrong message. Shirt, jacket, little pleated pants, it's perfect. He even has cufflinks, thanks to yours truly and... Why are you laughing?

— No, I have to admit that you... But...

— But what?

Alphonse only painfully holds back his laughter. He inhales, exhales, gets ink in his fingers, and finally articulates, preferring to change the subject:

— You let your hair grow. And you're back to your old style.

— Yeah. That's the only way other people have ever known me.

(They didn't want to give themselves away by showing that something had changed in them.)

— Too bad, Alphonse admits.

Envy doesn't bother to answer. Alphonse can't help but notice other things. Unlike Edward, who sees the softness, the tenderness, the weaknesses in them, Alphonse's eyes are always mindful of the rest. Envy's hard muscles, always contracted, ready to pounce. Serpentine, liquid almost. Their square back, hard arms, strong thighs. Envy grew slightly taller, let their nails grow, and abandoned their city clothes for their homunculus outfit, a sudden appearance that almost frightened Alphonse and May.

Without the clothes that Edward lent them, they lost a form of humanity. The clothes ended up taking on a form of smell. Not because of their sweat - they have none - heat - same - or the characteristic scent that some skins and breaths have - nothing - but of everything that surrounded them. They smelled of life. Envy smelled the hot metal of Winry's workshop, the spices and onions glistening in the oil of the kitchen, Den's dense coat, Miette's teasing hair, and finally, the smell of Edward. Alphonse knows that Envy’s body should not exist. They are a fictitious blend that logic and nature would prevent. Their long locks, their aquatic tone, like the surface of a pound. Their sharp features, their fine eyes, their always piercing gaze - currently focused on the manuscripts. Their amethyst pupils - Alphonse recently read that the purple irises had no color, so clear instead that the blood vessels showed through.

— You got the translation of line 2 wrong, Envy mutters, their fingers lazily gliding on the parchment. It's not the right verb form: you wrote turn, but it's more like a shake.

Alphonse corrects mechanically, bending over to pick up a bib, and then:

— Wait.

— What? Yes, or it could be a...

—You just read my notes.

— I know how to read.

— You read Xerxean?

Envy only seems to realize:

— But of course, I... Wait. You didn't know that?

— No! We've been working on this manuscript for months, and you can just read it?

— I don't know! I'm not an alchemist!

— You could have read it from the beginning!

— I wasn't listening, okay? Your conversations are boring as hell.

— You would have saved us several months of work, I- Were you trying to sabotage us?

— This is the language I spoke with Father and my brothers and Lust, you- Of course, I can read Xerxean! Plus, you made a mistake in the fourth sentence there-

— All my father's notes are in that language! You could have said so!

— And now it's my fault?

Alphonse barely holds back, closing his fists on his thighs:

— Well, at least now we'll move on... much faster. Is there anything else you should have told us that you inadvertently left out?

— You should take me to Xerxes.

— I cannot do that.

— I was there when Gluttony devoured the ruins. I'll be able to complete them. And translate them. And guide you. Just saying.

— It's already a miracle that you can get out of your prison.

— You'll find a way out, Envy concluded. You've always managed.

Chapter Text

Mustang insisted on waiting for the end of the downpour, blocking them in the entrance well over thirty minutes before only puddles remained.

— We're falling behind the delegation, Edward grumbled in vain. We are so fucking late.

— We can protect you, adds Alphonse. It's okay.

— I'm the one who protects you, refused Mustang.

Hawkeye just laughed discreetly. She's used to it by now.

— And we're the heroes of the day, they can only wait for us, Mustang adds, snorting.

Edward and Alphonse roll their eyes. Today is the second anniversary of the Promised Day. For the occasion, the city celebrates those who were able to stop the coup plotters and their illegal experiments. Grumman is going to decorate Olivier, obviously already there, but also Mustang. The competition between the two colonels tightens, while Grumman struggles more and more to climb the stairs and has to hold some advice lying on a bench. 

— Let's hurry, notes Hawkeye.

— We'll take my route, Mustang steps forward, leading them down narrow corridors and through sudden detours. It's safer, no one knows we can go that way... This is where I and Hughes used to go to smoke our smokes when we were younger. We always smoked more than our rations so we had to get by…

They follow him barely fit in the alley, where garbage bags and dummies probably intended for military exercises, still soaked with rain are piled up. Alphonse stays slightly behind, lifting May's train so that it doesn't get soaked in mud. Hawkeye surveys behind, her body tenser than usual. She is an extension of the gun, strung like a bow ready to give way.

— If you know the neighborhood well, you can get to the barracks without getting caught. Hughes used to bring his wife here, even on leave, and I... Well, it's still use-

Snap

A bullet bursts the air.

Edward collapses, his body suddenly tiny in his coat.

— Man down! yells Hawkeye.

Alphonse throws himself on top of Edward, pulls aside the folds of the coat, and, plunging his fingers against his neck, notes with relief that he is breathing. May Chang kneels by their side, soiling the silk of her dress. She digs her blades into the soft earth and flashes lightning bolts between her fingers, reflecting off the polished leather of their boots.

— Ready? Mustang asks, without even needing to pivot.

— Always, Hawkeye assures.

Mustang sets the entire street ablaze, building a wall of flame between them and the rest of the world. Already, windows shatter, brisk crumbles. Hawkeye has already taken up position, securing their backs. Already, Edward stands up, coughing up blood on his gloves.

— Ed, you... tries Alphonse.

— Fucking bastards! Edward straightens up, slamming his palms into the ground and spraying a row of spikes.

They stab one of the men blocking the street, impaling him against the bricks of the wall. He barely has time to scream, his breath caught by the blades. The other two flee.

— Come back there!

May Chang rushes to the wounded man, healing him barely in time. Edward doesn't care: with a few leaps, planting his fingers in the dusty mortar of the walls, he reaches for the walls and gets to the roof.

— It's the putschists, Mustang growls, his fingers clenched enough to distort the fabric. Really!

— You assured me you had the situation under control, May Chang snaps. And we're being attacked by rebels?

— The situation is under control, Mustang spits through his teeth. We've arrested their leader, she's awaiting trial in prison, you'd think that would be enough, but you'd think independent branches would continue to...

— We don't have time for this, Colonel, cuts in Hawkeye.

Alphonse and May exchange a look, and that's enough. With a snap of her palms, she propels Alphonse onto the roofs. He struggles to regain his balance, noticing Edward's coat a few steps away, and rushes after it. He almost slips, clings to the chimneys, cables, pipes, and gutters he finds. Edward gets ahead of him, disappears for a moment: 

— Ed! E... Where...

A ladder leads him down to a military hangar. There, only old trucks are waiting for him. Alphonse almost slips.  Blood . He follows it for a moment and, under a truck, meets the panicked gaze of one of the two insurgents. He is missing a hand.

— I'm not here to hurt you. Come to me, please. I will make a tourniquet for you.

— You look like the other one!

— I don't have time for this.

Alphonse grabs the man's arm and drags him to him. He slaps his palms together and forms a sufficient bandage, at least for a few minutes.

— You're just like we were told, you're...

— Where did my brother go?

— L... There.

Alphonse rushes between the trucks. In the back, between piles of tires, he comes face to face with Edward and the last insurgent.

— Ed!

Edward grabbed the man's head between his fingers and squeezed. The man can't even beg anymore, his screams crushed in his throat, his eyes seemingly ready to burst from their sockets. Edward stares at him as if he could devour him. Alphonse stops, painfully catches his breath, and finally signals:

— Ed.

— You're late, Edward threatens.

— You don't kill, Alphonse insists calmly.

— Is that an order?

Edward squeezes harder. At the man's cry, Alphonse guesses that his jaw has just given way. His legs go limp.

— You don't kill, Ed, Alphonse orders.

— Or else what?

— Nothing. Release him. He must be questioned and tried.

— They tried to kill me, Edward threatens through his teeth. Do you realize that? I've come this close to... Imagine, shit!

— I know. I know you did. But let him go.

— Don't you want to kill him?

The man's eyes bulged in surprise. Alphonse finally reaches his brother and slides his palms over his arms. Without squeezing, without pulling, he only repeats:

— Release him. I don't recognize you anymore.

Edward loosens his fist, and the man collapses.

< He is dead! > May Chang surges, bumping into the doorway. < He… Oh, shit. >

The folds of her dress are sticky with ash and soot. She doesn't care, throwing herself at the man on the floor, feverishly planting her knives, and hastily reattaching his jaw.

— Sir? Sir, are you conscious? I fixed you. You need to see a doctor, it won't be enough but it's...

— It's better than nothing, Alphonse assures him.

Edward didn't move, his gaze in flames.

< What about the other one? > Alphonse worries. < He's really... >

< The one without his hand will survive. I cut off the flow of blood but couldn't readjust his hand. The others... This man... The colonel is merciless. >

Edward allows himself a contemptuous laugh:

— If only you knew!

— Are we talking about me, Fullmetal?

The thundering voice of Mustang gets to them before him. He straightens his waxed hair in his usual gesture. His boots are full of ash and soot. The flying folds of his uniform are torn, he seems slightly out of breath. Behind him, a thin shadow, Hawkeye still has his back. No one has followed them, but Alphonse can already hear the sirens.

— They're dead, he murmurs.

— The ceremony is going to be canceled. We're all going back to HQ. Al, what were you thinking? You could have ...

— Are you all right? cuts in Hawkeye. 

Alphonse is limping. Adrenaline has made sure he's holding on, but now that it's slipping away from him, oozing from his muscles and skin, he realizes what he's just done. May Chang holds his arm tightly, frightened by the crazy heartbeat she feels echoing to her bones. 

(Alphonse still hasn't gotten used to his new body: he still thinks he's all-metal, massive, terrible, and tonight he'll spend several minutes counting his bruises, his scratches, his broken nails).

Edward follows right behind, almost timid.

— We saw a wounded man on the way, bravo May, says Mustang. We'll be able to question him and find his last accomplices. And he...

Mustang bends down, kicking the fainting body with his boot.

— Just as I thought...

— Apprehended without your help, I hope it will mean a promotion for me, sneers Edward. 

— You're not Ed, mutters Mustang.

— Oh yeah? And you say that for what? Do you think I'm going to be a good boy all my life? I'm not fifteen anymore. I'm a man. When you were my age, you were fighting a war, so no lessons, thanks. These guys wanted me dead. I'm tired of feeling sorry for them, tired of...

— Ed can’t do alchemy anymore.

Envy’s face visibly distorts. Something savage springs up from under their skin, grabs their muscles, stretches them. Something seems to scratch under Edward's wise appearance, pulling their hair, their forehead, cracking their face, tears out their eyes. They have not even transformed themselves, but in front of them, he is another. A grotesque mix of what they know and what they would never want to have seen.

Alphonse leaps up, slipping between Envy and Mustang.

—  Alphonse , threatens Mustang.

— They are helping us!

— I knew it. Where is Ed? The real Ed?

— He's hiding in the library.

— I thought so, the demonstration... I thought it was you, Alphonse, who was transmuting for him but... Is he holding him hostage?

— It's to protect him!

Envy backs up until their shoulder blades bump against the side of one of the trucks. Their eyes, ominously white, search for the exits, stare at the metal beams, at the steel doors, at the vehicles…

— And protect him from what, Al? insists Mustang. Can't you see that he's manipulating you, that...

— I don't care! I'm protecting Ed! shouts Envy. Now do your damn job and make sure Al and May get out too! Your flames, I've already tasted it: let the others enjoy them! If it wasn't for me, Ed would have died several times. I'm not happy about it any more than you are. If it were up to me, I would have let them.

Mustang has to lean on the railing of one of the trucks, staring into space.

— He really- But I lost my eyes and I- I thought he would do the same, he-

— No stone, cuts in Al.

— Just me, Envy smiles painfully.

— You're doing this for...

— For Ed? Yes. A life for a life. Equivalent exchange, you know, right? We feared an attack.

— Envy predicted it, corrects Alphonse.

— The horde’s forces are already a few years old. I'm not surprised that they took over. It was my idea. A rebel, anti-imperialist force that targeted the top brass. It was a way to get rid of the officers who were a little bit too recalcitrant and get the others to take their places. Kind of like Scar... I'm sure you heard that their second-in-command died on Promise Day. That was me. I didn't think they'd survive the regime changes but- I guess they did. I was inspired by Drachma's communists. Funny lads.

— Did you encourage these murderers?

— That was my job! claims Envy indignantly. What can I do if I'm good at it? Anyway. I had a feeling they'd end up targeting the alchemists too, especially after the Promised Day. We almost wiped out the country because of an illegal experiment, so that's all it took to motivate them to get rid of the state alchemist corps too. And when you put several heroes together...

— They infiltrated our ranks. Only I and my seconds knew our route. Even you two didn't know it, I had it changed at the last minute just to...

— If you changed it at the last minute, it would reduce your list of suspects. Spread the word that Edward was wounded. That will outrage the population and your curfew will be better tolerated. It will give you more room to...

— I don't need advice, especially from you, Mustang scolds.

— You should. I'm doing this for the Elric, not you.

— You can really lose your alchemy, So... Do you realize what this means? For us? For our country? For Ed? He should have told us, we...

— No way. If your colleagues learn that we can lose our alchemy, they'll want to play little scientists on Edward, and I won't let that happen.

— Neither will we, interjected Alphonse. It must stay a secret.

Mustang stares at them both. Despite his cane, Alphonse is the same height as the colonel now. This resemblance underlines their dissimilarities: Alphonse's sunken cheeks, unstable knees, and still thick hair betray his vulnerability. But his youth, his unscarred skin, and straight back also contrast with Mustang's exhaustion. The last few months have not been kind to him. He allows himself a sigh:

— Very well. Envy can stay with us in this form until Edward joins us. It was all for nothing... Envy managed to escape without anyone noticing, and now I... I need a coffee. Al, do you realize what you are asking me to-

— You've done worse, right? smiled Alphonse.

— What if this is all just a...

Envy rolls their eyes.

— For fuck’s sake! If this was all a manipulation, I would have let you get beaten up, and I would have run away. I got Ed's watch, his coat, his papers. I could have gone far. I'm still here, putting up with this bullshit talk. 

— Warn us next time, commends Hawkeye. Envy, we've defeated you before. We know your weaknesses. I won't hesitate.

— The feeling is mutual.

Mustang holds out his hand - without even thinking about what his gesture implies for Envy:

— For the Elric brothers.

Envy grips his palm with disgust. They try not to squeeze too hard. Just a little.

— For the Elric brothers.

Chapter Text

The first few times they touched each other, even before the sex, the kisses, the nights together, Edward didn't dare move. Their embraces seemed unread. It took him a long time to convince himself that they were more like a dream. Envy slid against him, their weight bending to the slats of the mattress and Edward wrapped his arms around them. Just a few months ago, this gesture would have been painful: automails get tight in the evening when the oil runs out and the nerves beg. This new arm of flesh has other limitations: it tires quickly, struggles to write more than a page, cannot even hold a pan or cut vegetables. Wrapping it around Envy's thin waist is painful, just a little. Envy is aware of their weight, just enough not to crush him. Envy knows nothing about tenderness, though: their nails scratch his back, digging into his skin as if they need a direct connection to his veins. 

— Vy...

— Shut up, I say.

Edward pulled back the curtains and blocked the door with a chair. Not enough to keep the guards out, but enough to give them time to get out of the way if someone missed catching them. Envy waited until dark to collapse. They must still be conscious since their nails hurt so much, but they don't show it. They don't let go.

— I shouldn't have...

— Shut up, Envy orders.

— I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Thank you. You saved my life.

—Don't make me regret my...

They are silent, face buried in the back of his neck. Envy clings to him as if they want him dead. Edward almost sees this as an assassination attempt, vaguely trying to free himself before recognizing that breath, that breath that Envy sometimes betrays during these nightmares. Breathing implies a conscious effort on their part - to make, to animate, to maintain the frilly complexity of his lungs, almost a vegetal ensemble in its complexity, thousands of alveoli to be operated. When Envy breathes, it is rarely a good sign.

(Envy parasites. No, Envy copies. Envy mostly copies Edward. Envy doesn't digest, doesn't shit or pee, doesn't burn in the sun, and could do without sleep. Breathing is a luxury, just like their pores, their taste buds, the slight fuzz on their groin. When Edward panics, his breathing is rusty, banging against his ribs, rasping his tongue, grabbing his gut. You can trace its path under his scars, toiling where there were wounds. Envy couldn't understand why he was breathing like that, on the verge of death. On nightmare nights, Alphonse would slip into their room and capture his older brother's palms, curling them up into a little beating heart. There he would make and unmake that fist:

— Breathe in, breathe out, he would repeat softly. Like this. There, like that.

Surprisingly, this futile gesture seemed to work. Edward was gradually calming down, his muscles finally relaxing and transforming the hard contours of his body. Envy had demanded an explanation.

— Breathe in, breathe out. That's all.

— Does that help?

— It makes it go away.

— What?

— The pain.)

Edward, Alphonse, and May Chang were no longer allowed in the hotel, not for several days at least. Edward asked to be moved to the library while Alphonse and May were given officers' rooms in the women's and men's dormitories respectively. By the time they were searched, interrogated, their versions dug up, and the commando members sufficiently tortured, Envy was taken back to the prison. 

They were not discovered. Envy had time to interact with Edward in a hallway, with May Chang diverting attention by the time Edward emerged from the room and Envy slipped in. Dragging him down the hallways, Alphonse hastily recapped the events in Xerxian. Edward held his bluff all afternoon, pretending to be still in shock. Mustang was thoughtful enough to speed up the bureaucratic process: war heroes can't be suspected.

Edward ran to meet Envy in their prison, so late at night that it was early. They were waiting for him, cross-legged, eyes closed, fists clenched in their calloused lap. The alchemists on duty had nervously confessed that they had not moved all afternoon. They had never realized that Envy wasn't breathing.

— Are you okay, Envy? We did like...

— Are you coming back to your hotel?

— No. I'm staying there now. With you.

— Is the little girl being sent back to her country?

— May? No, no, she's in the officers' dormitory, on the women's side. Alphonse too, for safety.

— On the women's side?

— No, you idiot, in the men's section. I got you upstairs, but...

— Next time, you don't know if they'll let me out, Envy summarized placidly.

— I won't let them.

— We'll see about that.

Since their encounter with Mustang, Envy hasn't loosened their jaw. They have become mean again, harsh, unbearable. May refuses to talk to him "until they calm down". Alphonse made no comment.

(He can't get out of his head the vision of his brother collapsed on the muddy floor of that alley, his shirt covered in blood, his eyes gazing at the sky. He knows that it was Envy, but there is still this fear, no, this terror, that gripped his heart when he saw Edward fall. Knowing that it was Envy didn't solve anything.

— Come on, it’s not like I matter to you.

Alphonse can't seem to explain to them that this is not true. He doesn't want Envy to suffer in vain, even for a moment. He's seen too much of their grimace, their clenched fists, their breath knocked out of them by the time the healing reaches their nerves and restarts their heart.

 The gunshot surprised Alphonse as if he were the one taking it in the gut. If Envy hadn't been so insistent on going in Edward's place, in case alchemy was needed, Edward might not be here today. May Chang pointed out, correctly, that they were all targets. There were no less than five assailants. Edward had been targeted first because Envy was absentmindedly watching the rooftops, and a man thought he had been spotted. Envy was simply looking at a cat perched on a chimney, but that was enough to set off the attack. If the members had coordinated as planned, they would have all been shot.

Alphonse sometimes forgets that he is mortal, that he is made of soft flesh, that he needs a walking stick, and that alchemy is not necromancy. He is afraid for May, he is afraid for Edward. He spends the night clinging to her. 

May has learned to fear assassination. Her clan is now the emperor's main ally, and his enemies don't just wish for his downfall. They organize it. But to be shot abroad? That's a bit vulgar, isn't it? Ling insisted that May should not return, fucking now, but at Mustang's request, the attack was classified. No need to tell the world that assailants broke into the barracks by the same route cadets take to get to the brothel or smuggle their contraband).

Envy betrayed no signs of pain, of panic, nothing. It's that nothing that worries Edward. Envy is not the quiet or modest type. In their placid face, there is much more than a grimace. Envy is both close to him and miles away. A sigh would be enough to drive them away. In the room, there were a few minutes of suspension. A silence that was not really a silence: a pulse, all against their lips. They finally slid against Edward, whom the interrogations and the run through the corridors had left breathless and sweaty, and clutched. Edward doesn't know how long they've been there, their limbs jumbled together, Envy's massive weight crushing him more and more, but Envy finally gets up and, slowly:

— I need a shower.

The dormitory showers smell like a place no one lives. 

This room has no personality and no color. It has never changed and never will. Only the reflection of skins in the wet tiles gives color to this liminal space. Edward has never really lived in an army dormitory. He has never seen the full showers, full of bodies, full of heavy humidity, full of fogs so dense that it takes on a shape, a texture, a weight.

Envy has long infiltrated men’s, as well as women’s, showers. At first, it was purely a practical matter: devouring bodies with the eyes to store every detail, making a repertoire out of this blurred whole. And then there were the conversations. People felt less modest once they were naked. The soldiers had years of camaraderie behind them: they didn't really know where their bodies ended, and their uniforms began. They had offered their bodies to the homeland, and in this ensemble, whose rules tried to erase identities, they all revealed themselves.

If from the outside, a bare face, a brush cut, and a uniform were enough to make a crowd into an army, the shower gave them back their essence. Envy listened to the gossip, the confidences, the silences. They examined the power relations, the games of glance, sometimes the seductions, the comrade ships, the tenderness that one grants oneself between friends and that one hides between lovers. 

They devoured the smells that no fabric retains, the mouths still soft in the morning, the beards, the locks that rebel, everything that the razors will come to equalize but that nature strives to recall. The bodies close together, brushing against each other, their sexes, their asses, their thighs, their torsos, everything that Envy only saw on corpses. 

Envy finds nudity fascinating as a concept. They could never really be naked, but they could understand the logic. Nudity is the human's first form, and they try everything to hide behind clothes, fashions, layers of petticoats. Envy had seen the era of crinolines as well as the era of boyish haircuts, the era when an ankle was enough to make you faint as well as the countries where bare breasts were not even noticed.

— What are you thinking about?

— Nothing.

With every tender touch on their skin, though, Envy tenses up and pulls away, so Edward takes it easy.

— I can...

— Go ahead.

Envy is a little afraid to look at Edward. They prefer to turn their back on him. They don't like what the sight of Edward does to them. They have never known this strange pain, this tension in their guts and in their eyes. They try to prevent their eyes from slipping - in vain. Edward is a solar beauty, one which imposes itself more than it admires itself.

— We're going to drain all the hot water out of the barracks, Envy mumbles.

The handles are burning, and they wince as they move away from them. Not Edward. His skin has become desensitized with the years and the scars: boiling water is only a dull sensation for him. Alphonse often has to watch him when he cooks; he doesn't realize when he cuts himself. Envy, on the other hand, puts more nerves into their body than usual. They will never say it, but they are hungry for caresses and kisses and Edward's hands. They want to feel every detail.

— Your hair isn't really a... notes Edward.

— No, it's not. I wanted it to look like fabric, like silk. But it is still keratin.

Edward brushes their hair, massages care, and shampoo into it. He tries for nothing, Envy could easily remove the grease, the dust, the split ends, but they let it go. They enjoy the frivolity of this attention. A useless effort but one in which Edward plunges all his concentration. Edward takes maniacal care of his hair and skin: he knows he's going to get old, so he tries to take it easy, at least a little. Edward's hair falls out, as it does every winter, as it does when he's a little anxious. Envy leaves no waste, no nail clippings... Everything that escapes from their body ends up in dust. One day, there will be nothing left of them.

— We can stay like this for a while longer, Edward promises. The guards won’t mind.

Envy cuddles against him, almost reluctantly. They hide their face in Edward's burning throat, their lips all against his gasping throat.

— It's tolerable, Envy comments.

Edward holds back a sigh of relief at the contact.

(Edward knows this but will not notice. Envy has been crying. Not enough to spiral, not enough to be noticeable but enough to have to hide it. Edward has known too many super-powered beings not to also know them to be fragile.).

— Envy...

— What? I told you I didn't want...

— It's not to talk about the attempt... I have a question. A stupid one.

— You already asked me if I could drive when I'm older than the steam engine but go ahead and try.

— When did you figure it out?

— Figured out what?

— That...

He gesticulates painfully between them.

— You understood very well, asshole! That... That you liked me!

— What about you?

Edward leaves a few seconds, extending his arm to grab their towels. Another unnecessary delicacy, but one that Envy accepts without flinching.

— It's in Gluttony's belly, Edward finally admits, wiping his hair.

— Is it? The first time you saw me in my original form, you thought... Do you have something to tell me about your preferences? It's worrying, Fullmetal. You've been spending too much time with chimeras.

— It's not that, you idiot. You were behaving differently. You were... Normal! You listened. You suggested things. Ling made jokes, and you laughed.

— Please, giggles Envy.

— We spent several hours in that belly, and it was the first time we communicated with you, long, really. I wanted to ask you some... I wanted to ask you a lot of questions if we weren't on the verge of ending our lives there, I would have but- It was the first time I saw you like that.

— You never really saw me or talked to me before. You never really did it at all.

— You were stressed, I could tell. Vulnerable. And pissed off. I mean, I guess.

— I was pissed off that I was going to die like that.

(Lust had just died. Envy, for a moment, just for a moment, had thought that at least, like this, they would join her. One way or another. They were already tired of everything.)

— This is the first time I really saw what you looked like. How you could be. How you spoke, without your bullshit theatrical effects… Or your fucking smile, like the one you have right now. What about you?

— Your buddy gave me a bowl of lukewarm water and said, "drink it, it's soup", I asked, "of what", he said, "of foot" and when I said, "the foot of what", he pointed at you. I thought I was going to kill everyone.

— Did you drink the soup? Wasn't that bad.

— How are you still alive? I'd rather suffer a thousand deaths than go near the piece of junk that's your toe.

— I thought you loved all of me, Edward teases, waving the plastic bag he slips his prosthesis into every time he takes a shower or bath, to protect it from rust and heat contrasts.

— By all of you, I mean your ugly face, your ass, and whatever else I can use, not your beard and your feet. And definitely not the fake one!

— It's not really a fake foot. It's an extension of me.

— It's a machine.

— It's a part of me. A part you broke.

— Like it's the worst thing I've ever done... I mean… Does it hurt? Does it really hurt?

Edward knots his towel in a perilous turban, mumbling through his teeth, focused on his task.

— Envy, my nerves are connected to it. Of course, it hurts.

— Ah.

— So?

— So what? Sorry, that's it.

— I wasn’t talking about my foot. So? When did you figure it out?

— Ah, shit, I thought you were gonna forget about that stupid question. I don't know, man. I don't function like you.

— You liar.

— Ed, you were a kid. And a pain in the ass.

— Vy.

Envy would rather stare at the showerhead than face him.

— Oh, fuck you. That's when you stopped me from enjoying eternal peace and started treating me like the distressed kitten Alphonse stuffed in his pockets. That's it? Happy?

— Not before?

— No. Before, I wasn't really in a state of mind...

— Because of Lust's death?

— Because of Lust. And a lot of other stuff. And then I had someone.

Edward nearly slips on the tile floor. He freezes, halfway between the showers and the sinks, towel perilously balanced.

— What? says Envy in surprise.

— Repeat yourself.

— If it makes you choke again, gladly.

— Did you have someone? 

— Yes, I did.

— Explain.

— No. It will remain a mystery.

— Vy, explain.

— Or what? You'll send me back to jail?

He sighs, heading for the tap where he finally removes the plastic bag where he slips his prosthesis while showering. He wipes the metal, taking care not to leave any drop. He continues, staring at Envy out of the corner of his eye.

—I know you dropped that little piece of information on purpose, and you just want me to push it.

— Maybe. One more mystery.

— You know I don't protect you just for my research.

— I saved your life. You owe me one.

— Stop that bullshit, Vy. I like you. And you like me. All of me. Even my foot.

Envy doesn’t respond.

— Want a towel?

Chapter Text

— It's not a gift, Mustang keeps repeating.

— We get it, sighs Edward.

— It's a trade.

— We get it, Edward insists.

Envy refuses to come out of their corner of the room, glaring at everyone around.

— It was Mrs. Bradley's request. Grumman gave me the message this morning. He's leaving it up to me to- He's leaving it up to me to decide.

— So? spits Envy. You feel powerful enough? Are you enjoying yourself? It must be  amazing  to be able to decide everything from-

— I said yes.

Envy raises their eyes to the sky, shrugging their arms tragically. Edward refrains from joining them, his thigh twitching in a nervous tic. Alphonse and May Chang have not moved, one sitting at the desk and the other by the door. You never know.

— As I said... It's not a gift. It's an exchange. Envy, I want you to- I want you to take over your role as number two in the putsch. And destroy them from the inside, for good.

— In what way?

— I want you to infiltrate them and get rid of them.

— You get all the credit? cuts Edward. Is this blackmail?

— A trade! Mustang insists.

— These guys tried to kill Ed, Envy hammers. And Al. And the little princess. I didn't need your permission. I can get out anytime I want. And I don't need you to make me want to destroy them.

— I know you don't. That's why I'm offering. I know you protect the brothers. We have that in common. But I can promise you more.

— This is blackmail, Envy confirms to Edward.

— It's a request from Mrs. Bradley, Edward interjects softly. A request. I want it honored. Envy, do you feel...

— Of course, I feel like I can torpedo these guys from the inside.

— No, you don't. To see Pride. He's changed.

— Oh,  please , how could he be worse than he already was.

On a small iron table in the middle of the presidential residence, Führer Grumman is having an afternoon tea. He can only move around in a wheelchair and is escorted by his physician. Even the shy sunshine of the beginning of the year seems to be too much for him.

— Ed! My boy, how are you?

— General! You're not at the...

— Oh, a little break from time to time, it does not hurt, he rejoices. Besides, I've been told that I could meet some interesting people here.

Envy steps forward slightly, leaving Edward's side. They shake the hand the general holds out to them, noting his thin skin, his cold fingers at the tips. The old man doesn't have long to live. It remains to be seen who from the north or east will take his place: Armstrong? Mustang?

— Have you come to see the child?

— I've been authorized to do so, explains Edward. Report to our study, with Alphonse.

— Study the homunculi. A beautiful program, my children. And so, it is...

— Envy. We've never really met. I hear you can do alchemy on your own body. Very impressive; I love to dress up myself but you, that's... My men reported to me that there were no worries, your... Is the collaboration going well?

— Envy is very cooperative. Beyond what the situation would require of them. Have you had a chance to look at our initial findings?

— They're very encouraging, the old man chuckles. When the child is old enough, we'll have you observe him.

— I thought you had...

— He will have a normal life. A life out of sight, but a normal life. All you have to do is tutor him. Envy, you are... This child, is he of your blood, right?

— He is my older brother.

Grumman seems to relish the prospect.

— We must link you... with us. No more stupid wars, no more attempts at domination, we now have a fabulous opportunity to improve our knowledge, our countries, and maybe even... ourselves.

— First, we'll study what's out there, interrupts Edward. Then, we will see what it is prudent to do and to...

— Ah, the old man interrupted, putting his chair back down. There he is.

(— How old are you, really? Edward dares.

— Pride was born before you had records, so even Father doesn't know. I'd say 350 years. About that. Father was four centuries old.

— My father was that age too, Edward mutters. What the hell... How can anyone live that long?

— Speak for yourself, mumbles Envy. I came along after Lust and Greed... They must have been about 200 years old. They followed each other, almost twins. Greed must have  really  disappointed Father because I came only a generation later. I'm almost two centuries old. Sloth followed but Father put him to work so we got him faster. Gluttony was the youngest, with Wrath. Pride and Wrath were together all the time. I think it did that little shit good to spend time with humans instead of Father. By the way, do you have news?

— Central said that he was okay and conscious. Like a baby. My father told me that he will likely grow old, like Wrath.

— And I'll be the only one, Envy mumbles.

— How many centuries, do you think?

— Before what?

— Before you die?

Envy grimaces, their eyes glazing over.

— Vy? Insists Edward.

— I don't know.)

A maid brings pride in, wrapped in pastel sheets, and for a moment Envy thinks it's a mistake. Without knowing who they are, the maid places him in their arms. The baby barely weighs against them.

— He is growing more slowly than infants his age, Alphonse notes.

— I think that by destroying his stone, I made him like an embryo, realizes Edward. Is everything all right, otherwise?

— He's eating well, confirms the nurse. He has said his first words and taken his first steps, but he prefers to be held.

He has soft skin, fists crinkled like seashells, eyes so small they look entirely black. Pride didn't have their eyes, nor their points of vulnerability, those circles that nothing can make disappear. Today, Pride has one on her forehead, as small as a mole. His hair barely covers it, floating in the wind. His lips move, as if to form words - no, syllables - his hands reach out and... And nothing. He grabs one of Envy's locks and pulls it out, his eyes huge.

Envy wishes they were dead.

— We'll leave you alone, okay? assures Edward, daring to slip his hand over her shoulder.

This inevitably draws stares from the soldiers, but Edward doesn't give a damn. Envy doesn't back down; worse, they are grateful.

— No tricks, my boy, chuckles Fuhrer Grumman. We're watching you.

— Sir, I need to talk with you. Could we…

— Let’s go.

 The soldiers seem to hesitate, just for a moment, and then they take a few steps back, offering them their backs. Envy takes a seat on the chair still warm from Grumman's presence, adjusting Pride's position in her arms. The child smells of milk, still has a little on the corner of his lips, on his cheeks. His skin is tender, soft, like marzipan that could easily be shaped, chewed, devoured. A small, tiny child in her arms.

— If you're hiding and waiting for your time, brother, it's time to report. What's up?

Nothing. Only the child's big black eyes.

— I can't be the last one...

(They were all afraid of Pride. The first, the perfect, the elder, the predator. Sneaking into every shadow, every nook, and cranny. Fangs holding the whole country hostage. Crossing miles in a sigh. He'd lived for years with Father as his only company, and it showed. Pride hated Lust, hated Greed, hated Envy. He saw them as inferiors, almost obstacles: sins incomparable to the hubris he wanted to embody. Fuck him. All this to end up so small, so small...

Envy's siblings didn't really fear him. It was Father's trust in him. He was his shadow. Lust and Envy saw this relationship as a form of intimacy. It had taken the Elric home to realize that there had been more tenderness and gentleness between Wrath and Pride, between the oldest and the youngest than there had ever been between them and their father.)

— You chose to stay, too... they murmur.

— Not really, interrupts a hesitant voice. May I?

It's Mrs. Bradley, with a worried look. She smells of fresh flowers, of warm milk. Her wrinkles have deepened, her hair is turning a soft gray: she has aged several years in a few months. Envy can understand. She takes a seat at their side, cautiously bringing more of her maroon dress to her.

— Ed brought it back to me. It hasn't been long, but already he looks more like a baby than... Oh... When Ed brought him back to me, tiny, so small, I thought he might die with a kiss. I had just found out about my husband, my child, and... And here he is.

Envy hesitates to give him back. He is her child, but he is also their brother. He has all the characteristics of a human child, and Envy wonders what could distinguish them from Mrs. Bradley. They were so sure of what made homunculi superior, but now he struggles to rationally point out their differences. Lifespan, yes, resistance and resilience to shocks, diseases, poisons, wounds, and their powers... But humans, with alchemy and a little help from others, get by just fine. Envy has been beaten too many times. Even Pride...

— Edward told me that his father abandoned him. Is that... Is that your father too?

— He abandoned me too.

He let them die several times, and He didn't intervene. He let them be taken to Xing, months in a jar. He let them get swallowed up by Gluttony.

— I'm sorry, Mrs. Bradley murmurs. It's terrible not to... Selim is my child, he's not my biological child but I adopted him, I'm... I'm sorry, I'm all emotional, I'm expressing myself badly. You are my last link with my husband. You are...

— He was my brother. My little brother...

— I know you. You were my husband's family. I've seen you before.

— We were there at your wedding, recalls Envy. With my sister. Your husband was my little brother.

— Little... Oh, that's right... I keep forgetting he's not just the man I knew.

 Her words are excruciatingly sweet. Envy would almost feel sorry for her: this woman had lost her husband, her child, her social position, her entire life, and her memories with it. Yet she had been loved by Wrath.

(She was, more than Selim, his only weakness. This woman had never been part of the plan. Father had let it happen, arguing that it must have been a bit of his human side that was coming out. And yet, Pride too had become enamored. He had always objected to the old lady being sacrificed or even hurt. The eldest and youngest lent themselves with suspicious ease to their comedy of the perfect little family.

Envy had caught Wrath in moments of tenderness that he should have denounced, that he should never have tolerated. Kisses, clasped hands, and in his eyes, an inimitable warmth. Envy had been jealous, of course, that Wrath could go so easily between his lives and that every night he had the promise of a warm bed from the woman he loved. Envy said he thought it was ridiculous, frankly, sharing a human's life, acting out until that night, disgusting... The woman's hands look soft.)

— You knew, they whisper to her. You knew about us. Pride never got old.

— Selim was my child. That was the most important thing to me. Sometimes... you just don't ask questions.

— Or you don't want to hear the answers. Your child was centuries old. 

— We know, it seems to me, they were two different people. One died. And... that leaves the one I know. My child.

— No, Envy contradicts gently. Ed must have told you... You were always his mother, even to Pride, even to Selim. He loved you, truly. Maybe that's why he's still here, in this form...

— Will he grow old, do you think? Get old and grow up?

— It's possible. He's already doing it, isn't he? I remember him after the promised day, he was not even a baby anymore. Now... It looks like something.

— Did his powers... I was told he had powers...

— So does your husband. And so do I. But it's not so different from chemistry... It can be controlled. It can be learned...

— That's what the Elric brothers told me.

(Father had always considered that the power of His children diminished with time and births. He made no secret of His contempt for Gluttony, to whom He still showed a certain tenderness, tinged with pity. He had chased Sloth out of His sight and refused to meet Wrath, now that he was getting older. He had even been careless, if not reckless, in sending Envy into battle, even though He knew full well that Envy could not fight. Envy thought it was a challenge, if not proof of confidence. In retrospect, it was stupid, even cruel. It was Lust who was sent to fight, then Wrath, then Pride. Envy was good at infiltration, plotting, and stealth. Father hadn't even worried when Gluttony had swallowed them up. Father hadn't worried when they disappeared in the North. Envy thought it was their fault, that it was some kind of punishment, or that there was a good reason, surely there was a good reason.

But no. Father had simply let them die - no, suffer, suffer dozens of deaths. He had let Lust die, had not punished the guilty, and when Envy had spun, he had threatened to disband it.

Nothing existed but the plan. Their entire lives were swallowed up in the preparation for a Day.

What now?)

— It was Ed who saved my brother, right? He's the one who gave him back to you?

— Oh, he apologized... He told me he had to... He had to hurt him, to stop him but now I can't complain. I had always told my husband that... I would have loved to see, to held Selim as a baby... What's his other name?

— He always preferred Selim, Envy mumbles. Our family is from... Our father is from Xerxes. That name is common there. Our father must have seen it as a... I don't know... Did they explain everything to you?

— I was made to understand that it was better not to talk about it too much, only to believe what the newspapers and the central radio said... And then, I didn't want to know too much.

— It's better for you. Ed and Al will tell you what you need and then the rest...

— All I care about is my child. I promise I'll take good care of him. I could never replace your father, but...

Envy lets out an evil chuckle, her eyes fixed on her shoes.

— Not hard. Selim is better off with you.

— Ed and Al told me your father died on Promise Day. Pride's real father...

— It's more complicated than that. And it wasn't Pride's dad, not... not the way you think.

(They had this conversation with Grandma Pinako. Envy noticed that Edward never visits his parents' graves. Alphonse goes every Sunday, even though he does not pray. Winry accompanies him, bringing flowers to his own family grave.

— A house of orphans, Envy had observed when they first left.

— You too, right? the old woman had said, tenderly.

— You never talk about it. Or not in a good way. You're like Ed or Al. For Winry, it's easier, they died as heroes...

— My father didn't die a hero, Envy snapped.

— My children died instead of fleeing the battlefield. They made the wrong decision to sacrifice themselves. They became martyrs. We receive flowers for them, fruits, letters of thanks from the people they saved. Even from Ishval, people save up to send us bits of their crops, necklaces, clothes... It's nice but I would rather they were alive.

— Ed and Al's father was a... a hero, a form of hero at least. Mine was... I don't know. I don't know.

— From the look on your face, she softens, I can tell you don't miss him.

— No.)

— You can visit him whenever you want, I promise.

— I think it's best if I step away for a bit... He has his life. He has you.

— He's still your brother, she assures them gently.

She slides her hand up Envy's thigh and it's a different kind of softness than they have gotten used to with Edward. It's no tenderness, it's a little pity.

— You are welcome here.

Chapter Text

Officer Concorde is a traitor and an idiot. Envy blames themselves for not getting rid of him sooner, before the Promise Day. It would have saved them from having to endure this fucking meeting.

— We need to talk to the general. Directly.

Edward has been insisting for the past ten minutes, hammering out each word with his fingertips.

— And I repeat, the general is resting! Concorde refuses point-blank. He is exhausted.

— We tell you that it is a-

— You inform me that members of the rebel group have army weapons. Big deal! After the attempted coup two years ago, many warehouses were looted, our weapons have been around for a long time-

— They're new, says Envy.

They don't even bother to speak loudly, casually sprawled in their seat. Edward gives them a half-smile. They agreed to switch roles, to give more force to their words. Envy's scornful, provocative, prickly manner complements Edward's sunny beauty beautifully. He has mellowed, over the years. Now that the army knows where to strike to hurt him, that Alphonse is no longer indestructible, and that Winry may lose her license as an automail craftsman, he is beginning to fear. Never for himself. Always for others.

— So what? insists General Concorde.

— So I know the security procedures. Weapons don't go around so easily. The ones I saw during my mission...

— A mission that I did not approve in advance.

— A mission that the general authorized by entrusting himself to a few trusted men, of which you are obviously not a part, cuts in Envy. I did everything in order, okay? I can even sign your reports and forms. If it makes you pay more attention...

— No, no, go ahead, concedes Officer Concord. I'm just amazed that the general-

— The general gets away with anything, Edward snaps.

— He's old, agrees Envy. He's old and maybe he's getting senile, and this whole thing was a mistake on his part... Still, I came back to report to you, like a good little soldier. And you have some explanations to give us, I believe? Where did these weapons come from? Because if Mustang, nor-

— You alerted Mustang?

— Mustang oversaw the operation, says Edward. I was his relay. This is all authorized.

— Can I ask why they have fucking army guns?

— Our warehouses have been...

— No. No, it's not an army issue, for one of your soldiers who manage traffic and stand in front of the embassies. They were new rifles. I saw King Bradley working on the specifications for these things, there are little marvels, and most importantly, they were never supposed to be released.

— They can have them exported, the new trade laws with Xing were-

— Do you know many revolutionaries who wait for treaties to trade legally? When I was managing it, they were running on opium, with ishvalis rebels and corrupt officials. Unless your streets are overflowing with junkies, there's no reason why they're suddenly so well equipped and well... But you already suspected it, didn't you? Did you suspect that it would end in a coup?

— No, attempts Officer Concorde. No, we had suspicions but nothing that...

— Oh, damn it! Of course, there were going to be revolutions! A civil war! Attempts to regain power! A military dictatorship is solid! It works, it lasts for years. The beginning of a republic, with the same exact people behind their desks, lying to the state and emptying the coffers with bribes and corruption attempts? Not so much!

— I didn't support our changes in in-laws and regimes... mutters Officer Concord. I felt it was coming, that it was too risky...

— Traitors in your ranks? Oh, what a surprise, scoffs Envy. We're going to have to do some serious screening.

— So, you'll help us? says the officer.

Envy stands up, stretching just enough to tense the soldiers around them. Even Concorde stiffens in his seat. Envy takes a few steps, surveying the room: it's King Bradley's office, from which all traces of his personality have been removed. A few pens, an improbable quantity of papers, drafts, typed documents covered with official stamps, and a few photos of Concorde's wife have replaced them. Officer Concorde was Grumman's second-in-command, long enough for him to trust him but not long enough for the old man to understand that Concorde only wants to take his place. Concorde doesn't even wait for the old man to die. He's already sitting at the desk, his ass snug against his seat.

— Are you so surprised?

— We thought the homunculi were more...

— Oh, so you know about what I really am, says Envy, fists on hips.

— Of course, I do. So do my men.

— So? What did you think of me?

— I... stammered the man.

— That's what I thought, smiles Envy, leaning in.

Edward flinches. This is not part of what they agreed to. They kneel, their fingers feeling the edges of the desk. Concorde gives him a concerned look, leaning in just enough to look grotesque.

click

A wooden panel slides open, revealing a small space in the plain woodwork. Envy reaches in and pulls out a bottle with liquid so honeyed it sticks to the glass with every movement.

— It's not a Molotov cocktail, they say dryly. Bourbon, twelve years old. A marvel, it comes from the South.

They place it on the leather covering of the desk and, bending down, adds three glasses. Edward approaches as carefully as possible:

— Vy-

— I was close to the man you called King Bradley. He valued his reputation, especially with his subalterns, so drinking in the office... Drinking at all... But I managed to motivate him. He had worse things to hide anyway, so why bother?

— I thought you couldn't drink, Edward articulates through his teeth.

Envy serves him first, generously. The alcohol stains Edward's gloves, and he immediately puts the glass back down. The officer does not have this delicacy, accepting the offer with a fascinated silence. He however takes the trouble to dip the ring on his little finger. Edward recognizes a small bezoar on it.

— Oh, that's tacky, Envy also remarks. Like I'm going to poison you... King Bradley loved the good stuff. I'm content to share.

Then, leaning in close to Edward, to the point of pinning him against the desk:

— I like the taste. I'm allowed to, right?

— I didn't know you-

— He was my brother. And he was human enough to be drunk. You would have liked him when he was young. He's like you, in some ways. He loved too much.

Edward jerks away, and the officer almost rushes at Envy, his eyes huge, his palms wide open. He doesn't need alcohol to be drunk.

— Is it true what they say about you? Can you be anything?

— How do you think I got so close to your rebels?

— Everything, really?

Envy allows themself a few sips, savoring their dramatic effect. A soldier bends down to inspect the cache and pulls out some files, a gun, a dagger, and a ring. The ring, feminine, fragile, belonged to a younger Mrs. Bradley. She wore it on their first dates, hoping to give herself the air of a woman of the world, more refined than her true social background. Wrath was too much in love to notice that the ring was a fake, her clothes were ragged, and the hems needed too many alterations. Envy, on the other hand, had noted everything. You never know. Professional deformation. It gives them an idea, and, in the bat of an eye, they metamorphose into her.

— Yes, everything, notes the officer in a hiccup of surprise.

— Humans, beasts, bugs, everything you dream of, giggles Envy as they revert to their favorite form. Not bad, eh? You couldn't even dream of it.

— Like chimeras?

— No. I contain a multitude. I can be anything.

— All humans?

— Do you have an idea in mind?

Concorde is getting closer, almost too close. Envy doesn't move a muscle, letting him gradually penetrate their living space, until they can smell his breath.

— Incredible, and you could...

— Try it and I'll eat your dick, Envy grins, teeth bared.

They said it low enough that Edward could pretend he didn't hear, but the look on Envy's face didn't deceive.

— Bloody amazing... You're not just useful in the war, then?

— I try to avoid battlefields. Blood is messy, and there's nothing fun about killing you. Too easy. It gets repetitive. But... I saw you in Ishval. And in the mines. You were sent to quell the revolts, weren't you? Well, revolts... They were massive strikes, comrade. But then you must know... You have shown the worst savageries, my people would not have even imagined or fantasized all these horrors. You can cut your species into subspecies, into races, like youo with your animals...

— Envy, shit! cracks Edward.

Envy can't stop smiling. They won. They let them talk for far too long. Edward knows.  Envy is living proof, made of thousands of sacrifices, of what humans are capable of. And if the army only see the weapon, Edward sees more. It's almost worse. To know that this creature, made of blood and suffering, the hubris of men, is also a person... A being capable of the same variety of emotions and sorrows as he is, if not more extreme. 

— You assured us that the subject was calm and- notes the officer.

— Domesticated? cuts in Envy. I am. Look at me. Don't you like my new hair, my new clothes? I look more proper, don't I? More normal? I look more like you now, do you like it? You should be happy. I didn't kill anyone during my mission.

— And Envy doesn't miss it, Edward intervenes, glaring at them. Don't pay attention to… Envy has been collaborating with us for the past two years on our research and now, on this mission. Our reports should be proof enough of his usefulness to us. I know you have every one of our...

— And all of them are wrong.

Edward freezes. Not Envy.

— We have our specialists check every one of your conclusions, your formulas, your reports. Our best people have been working on it, devoting all their time and energy to what remains a pile of lies. We expected better from the Elric brothers. You have been fooled with astonishing ease. Everything you've been told about the subject is false.

Envy smiles more and more.

— The dates, the names, the facts, everything is wrong. Subject H is leading you astray, Elric. Your conclusions about the alchemy of our country... The homunculi, well, we have enough to know how they work, how they are made... But the rest? What are you saying? Edward Elric, I would have the decency to assume that you have been manipulated and that you do not believe all these unpatriotic lies, insults to our nation, its history, and its heroes. You are still young, and your past facts speak for themselves. You were surely acting in good faith, but you must not forget who you are dealing with. The subject must have felt your pity, your vulnerability after the Promised Day. He exploited what I know to be your love of truth and research. I did everything I could to make sure my superiors understood this. I narrowly avoided you getting court-martial. Such accusations... You have been brainwashed, Edward Elric. What that snake told you-

Envy bursts out laughing, almost a scream.

— You have been compromised, you cannot be trusted. The subject is known in our services, whether he has you-

— Envy has not tried to manipulate anyone and no longer poses a risk! Why is the-

— The subject is a threat to the entire security of the country. He has proven it in the country: he is a threat. You are still young. There is no shame in having given in to these...

— Ah, because- Edward is about to roar.

— Leave it, Ed, smiles Envy. So, I take it, now that I've proven myself useful in the field, you're going to reassign me?

— With you, confirms Concorde, we can do much more. We know you're lying, but it can be useful to us, you...

Envy steps forward, palms open in the direction of the officer. He steps back, a reflex he immediately regrets.

— How is your wife, Colonel? The last time we took the time to chat, the pregnancy was difficult? Poor thing, I hope her legs feel better...

— Your attempts at intimidation don't work on me.

— Oh, I know. We worked together for so many years-

— I've always distrusted you.

— No, you haven't. You've always feared me.

Edward expected it to come back. That smile. That smile eating up their face. This sharp look. The being he knew on the battlefields springs up under his coat. 

Edward is not afraid. He's not even disappointed. Like their stone, screwed deep into the flesh, that other Envy has always been there. Two years will never be enough to change Envy, even after a complete reversal of their world. There will always be a fierce part of them, hungry for blood and pain. Whether it is innate or built up over the years, there is something in them that is made for violence. Envy had lived too many years before for a few months to exorcise the rest. Edward hadn't even tried. There are species you don't domesticate. There are things you don't forgive.

Edward can understand. He liked to fight. To dive into the battle first, to send his fist into a hated face, to come out triumphant, to shove everything he was struggling to contain the rest of the time into someone else's mouth, someone else's belly! It was as if he could relieve himself of everything that weighed on him and shove it into someone else. His rage had a direction, an outcome. He missed fighting. There is always something left, deep in his gut, that devours him, that weighs him down, that just wants to spill out. 

So, Edward is not afraid to see this old Envy back. Worse. He is a little reassured. There is something left from before. He is used to this Envy.

— Vy!

Edward lunges at Envy and grabs their wrist.

— Think for two seconds before you do something stupid, he says between clenched jaws. We'll figure it out.

— Don't worry, kid. I've got this, smiles Envy.

Rather than disengage, they grab the flaps of his jacket and bring him up. Edward has to hold on with his fists to keep from slipping. Between their fingers, he weighs nothing.

— Let go of him! the alchemist commands, leading their security detail, the words causing his mask to shake.

— Or else? sneers Envy.

— It’s armed! shouts one of the soldiers.

In his free fingers, Envy fiddles with a grenade.

— What the- Damn it, Envy! Edward understands.

— Leaving me free to move around was a fucking mistake. Underestimating Wrath? To think he wouldn't have hidden a few weapons in his office? Worse.

— Stop it, Edward tries.

Edward tries hard not to panic, his breath caught in the folds of his suit. Envy must be able to feel his heart skidding against his clenched fists. They pull him closer, leaning into a whisper.

— Protect your neck.

— Envy, what are you-

Envy throws him across the room. Edward slams into the wall, tumbling behind the thick desk. The impact leaves a nasty crack in the molded plaster, and Edward doesn't get up.

— SHOOT!

— I can't die, smiles Envy at Concorde. Can you?

And everything explodes.

Chapter Text

Edward remains frozen, in the middle of the bodies. He is not really there anymore.

The soldiers are pushing him around, none of the victims are asking for his help, he is  miles away.  He is in the middle of the rubbles, in Central, and the sky is overwhelmingly blue. It's Promise Day, again,  again . It stinks of something he would struggle to define and can never study again. It stinks so bad that it stinks in his stomach, it stinks in his guts, it stinks in his skull.

It doesn't stink like in Gluttony - the blood accumulated over miles, the air rancid, a giant putrid stomach.

It doesn't stink like in Envy's mouth - that smell of sated beast, of rotting corpses, of coagulated screams.

It didn't stink as it did in the bodies of Pride, in the abandoned factories of Briggs, in the slaughtered streets of Lior.

No. It stinks like after Nina's death. It stinks like the day they buried their mother. It stinks like the day they lost everything.

— Three losses, summarizes the officer escorting him to his office in the library. Don't worry, your brother and miss Chang will join you, we are evacuating the library.

Edward doesn't even feel like coming back. He mechanically sits down at his desk and looks at his notes, whose ink is almost still fresh. Envy has run away. Envy is  gone .

— Ed!

Alphonse rushes over to him, still in his coat. He bends over Edward's shirt, where blood has dried.

— It's okay, it's okay, Edward smiles painfully.

— Are you fucking kidding me?

— I've been stitched up. It was the shock that reopened my old scar, but it's all right. My leg isn't even broken... I need a smoke...

— We can't open the windows anymore, stammers Alphonse. You have nothing...

— No, nothing, I swear. Just a few bruises and the wound but... But I've seen worse.

— Don't do that to me! threatens Alphonse. We're not connected anymore but I can feel it, Ed, I can feel that you're in pain.

— It's going to be okay, Edward promises. That's not the worst part.

— It's... Oh. Ed...

— You were expecting this, weren't you?

Without a word, his hands trembling, Alphonse stood up. He leaned on his cane and went back to the door where, caught in her thoughts, May was waiting.

— We didn't even have time to finish our work, Alphonse said. May and I found an old parchment scroll from the summer palace, the one that was destroyed and burned, which shows similarities between Xerxes and… Your coat, darling...

Alphonse bends down to take off May’s fur coat - rather dangerous politeness for him still needs his cane every day.

— Thank you,  darling , smiles May.

With a dancing movement, she slides the coat off her shoulders and before it can reach the ground, a stream of red sparks shoots out of it, catching her feet, her thighs, going up to her dress, to her face where a smile is drawn...

—  Envy ? chokes Alphonse.

Envy stretches for a long time, cracking the bones of their neck. Under the stunned eyes of the two brothers, they take a few steps and come to perch on the desk. Edward jumps away.

— What have you done with May? Where is she?

— Where is she? In the archives? Probably waiting like an idiot for you to come and get her?

— Have you hurt her?

— But why would I hurt her?

— Do you  really  need me to explain?

— I'm cruel but not stupid! You care about this kid, you're capable of killing me, I can do the math, thank you! Fuck! She's  fine ! I just snuck in through the bathroom window and took her appearance, that's all. I found you before she did. If she's as smart as I suspect she is, she must have figured it out and is either going to hide while waiting for you, or she's going to turn me in. The point is... you should go get her.

— If you did anything to her...

— I didn't do anything to her, damn it! I would have every reason to do it, but I didn't! But if you keep  yelling , I'm not going to stop!

— Is she in the Archives? You didn't knock her out or threaten her or...

— No! I just went to see what she looked like, so the clothes would fit, and I found you, tin can, and that's it! I'm not that stupid!

Alphonse didn't even bother to answer them, running off towards the door.

— My research, I must come back for my research, military secret! he pretends as he disappears into the corridor.

— You're completely unconscious! says Edward, rushing to the door and pushing one of the chairs to block it. What if May is suspected of being you? What if they torture her to make sure it's not you?

— All they have to do is set off their circle, they'll see that it's not me, since she doesn't have a stone that  breaks , Envy summarized with a little bow.

— And we're going to explain how May stayed in the Archives while we're here?

— We rushed you back. The guards at the door got confused, that's all.

— Envy, you...

Edward collapses into one of the chairs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He doesn't even try to explain to them how dangerous and stupid them coming here is, nor does he feel like admitting how much relief seeing Envy  alive and here with him  gives him.

— I'm not staying the night, Envy tries to say as they move closer. I know it's dangerous. I just wanted to see you, to see you, before... You think so little of me? Did you really think I was going to hurt her?

— Envy, we know you too well.

— I wouldn't hurt that kid. I'd be signing my own death warrant if I just tried to take a hair clip off her. She kicked my ass hard enough last time, thanks...

They sit in the second club chair, stretching just hard enough to brush against Edward. They tease, with their fingertips, his collar, his locks, and then, when Edward chases them away, retracts with a pout.

— May should ask herself some questions, Envy sneers. Your brother didn't see anything while I was making a minimal effort. I doubt May is rolling her ass as much as I am.

— But you're a  complete idiot,  Edward snaps.

Envy recoils as if cut off in their tracks. Their fists clench imperceptibly.

— If you'd been discovered, what about Alphonse? He would have become an accomplice!

— Charming, scolds Envy. And me, are you thinking of me? Excuse me for ensuring my survival. If you want me to leave, no problem. We'll meet on the other side.

— You are completely reckless! Alphonse is not even a state alchemist yet, he...

— He should have just waited a little longer before becoming an army dog and May is a member of the  Xing   emperor’s   court , do you really think they'll mess with her? She's a kid, they'll...

— Do you think they give a damn?

Envy suddenly moves closer to Edward, putting their full weight on the floor, so fast that Edward betrays a flinch:

— What about me? What do you want me to do? You want me to go back to my hole? You're going to put me in a jar and close the parenthesis? What do you want from me? Go back to your nice little life in the middle of the fields, no more problems, a nice pension, and no matter if the State collapses, you're safe?

— What the hell are you talking about?

— I was  stupid . I was stupid to think that you would want to help me. Al went to warn them and you're holding me back.

Their hand went to Edward's neck and slammed him to the ground, claws digging into his thin skin. Edward doesn't flinch, barely wincing from the blow. It would take Envy barely four minutes to finish him. Less, if they attack the tender trachea. One move and it's over. Envy will be able to escape to one of the hideouts where Lust used to rest and resupply during their missions. They can take on the appearance, the life of passers-by. They will improvise.  Anything  rather than face Edward's gaze again.

— All the same, Envy continues, clenching their teeth rather than their fingers. You never change. Even you.  Especially you.

— Al's gone to get May, Edward articulates painfully. No one else.

— How do I know that?

— I do.

— How do I know you're not going to betray me? insists Envy, tightening their grip just enough.

— You know me, you idiot! Edward spits.

Edward stabs him in the gut with his automail. They collapse, all the air rushing out of their lungs. Edward breaks free of their grip, rolling in time and reversing roles. He plants his knee on their solar plexus - he knows he is too light, too frail, compared to Envy’s massive weight but doesn’t budge:

— Don't you see? Don't you fucking see that we're the only ones you should believe? Greed believed us! I saved Pride! I saved you! I saved the worst of you! Do you think I'm going to let you down now?

— I'm no use to you anymore! They will never accept the truth. Your country was built on lies: if you take away its foundation, it will collapse!

— I don't give a shit! I'm not doing this for my country! I'm doing this for me! I'm doing this for you! I'm doing this so that one day it will be the truth for everyone!

— You are mortal! You know what we do with guys like you? The whistleblowers, the peacemakers, the heroes, the truth seekers?  We kill them.  I was in charge of that shit. You’ll be found with two bullets in the back of your head and it will be ruled a fucking suicide! They will say that the pressure of the promised day got the better of you! You’ll have a beautiful funeral! They’ll sell trinkets in the shape of your automail and dolls with your stupid red coat!

— Instead of playing dumb, trust me! I didn't think you'd be back so soon. I thought you'd just disappear, and it would be  over ! I didn't think you were going to come back like a moron, in broad daylight and without warning us first!

— Noted. Next time I have to escape an entire army, I'll send a damn telegram.

Edward sits up with a sigh, his heart still pounding. One day, this shit is going to kill him. It wouldn't surprise him to have already lost several years of life expectancy.

— I'm serious, Envy insists. They'll kill you. I won't, they need me, they always have. Father, in His vial… You could have crushed it under your sandal, and it would have been over. They have the right circle, they can destroy my stone and it's over, back to the jar. But you? You, you...

— Stop talking for two seconds. Do you promise to stop trying to kill me as soon as you panic?

— I'm not panicking, I'm...

— Promise? insists Edward, pressing his knee into their flesh.

— I  yield .

Edward stands up, staggering slightly. He helps Envy to their feet, more out of politeness than anything else. They collapse into the couch, familiar sparks caressing Envy's torso, closing the tiny little wounds the metal has left on their skin.

— My pants are ruined, says Edward.

— You've got bruises all over your neck. Invent a lover because it will show.

— Thanks for the gift, he mumbles.

— Next time I'll be more discreet, Envy sneers.

They fall silent, just for a moment. Edward scratches his neck, feeling but not seeing the bruises accumulating under his skin. Envy coughs a little more. Edward has dislocated a rib, but they probably won't mention it. They still have a little ego left. Just a little.

— Are you sure Al won't betray me?

— He'd rather kill you himself if you'd hurt May, Edward summarizes placidly.

— And how is he going to do that?  Cane me ?

— We may be crippled, but we killed a god, Edward snidely reminds them. A little respect.

— I'll have respect for you if you get me out of this mess.

— We've already got it covered, Edward admits. Al and I... We felt it. We felt like we'd have to run, after a while. We thought it would happen at home, not here… When we're away from everything… But it’s not the first time we have to go underground. We've gotten away from you before, right?

— I don't know, I was in a fucking jar.

— I'll be needing a refresher soon, for my leg. I need to go see Winry. Her valley is full of former resistance fighters, allies of the cause. They will hide her and exfiltrate her if necessary. Grandma Pinako won't budge, but, if necessary, we have allies in Ishval who can hide her.

— You're going to send Scar, who killed her children, to rescue her?  What an excellent plan.

— Not Scar, but one of the monks of his order, surely. You see we can do better? You see that we can heal, even from the worst?

— That's right, Envy mumbles, crossing their arms and sinking deeper into the couch.

— If I and Al disappear and you disappear with us, we're screwed. Al will have to make sure May gets back to Xing and isn't kept as a political hostage. You never know.

— They will destroy your reputation. Burn your research, your reports, everything. Goodbye to your nice pension, your privileges, and your bank account.

— That's not what I'm worried about. And you really think I enjoyed it? Well, okay, I'll miss the hotels and the buffets, but I lived in the forest for months, I know how to handle it...

— With Greed, Envy recalls in horror. You really survived the worst, you...

Envy fell silent. They stare at Edward's shirt, cracked with dried blood.

— My old mine wound. It didn't heal right, since I was on the run, and it never healed right. It didn't get infected, but...

Envy leans in, sliding their palm against the sticky tissue.

— You could have died, they realize.

— I'm fragile, unlike you.

— I'm not used to making sure you don't die.

— Everything I've survived has built up, Edward summarizes with a shrug. It's all going to come back on me. All the injuries, all the shocks I've had... Nothing is lost, everything is transformed. I’ll end up paying for it.

— You could have died, Envy repeats, stepping aside.

Edward is used to it now. He grabs Envy's wrists - his knuckles are packed with blood, in places.

— Next time, let me know, instead of ratting me out like that. I really thought you were going to kill me.

— I didn't want them to suspect you. And I would have stabbed you faster. No pain, Envy promises, their eyes unfocused.

— Success, Edward laughs sadly. They thought they were going to lose me. They'll have to throw their rugs…

— You can't move right away, Envy guesses.

— No, I can't. Too much blood. I may need some snitch-up and some rest. I'm not allowed to come home. Not right away.

— When can you leave?

— I don't know. I don't know…

— Ed, don't be an ass. You could still save the day. Report me to your superiors. Now. May will have an apology. Alphonse will have his state exam. You'll get your nice pension for life, and you'll have nothing to do, just show up at the ceremonies, smile for the pictures, and assure them that yes, it was all my fault, a dark manipulation, the last attempt by my kind to take over.

Edward doesn't listen to them. He smoothes out the creases on his shirt. Envy snuggles up against him.

— You're going to lose everything, they insist, pushing a few of his golden locks out of his ear.

— You bet... Olivier or Mustang will take advantage of this to make their coup. We just have to wait for a little, a few years and...

— And risk everything? For what? Another Promise Day? The risk is to your life, not to others.

— What are you trying to do here?

— To make you use your brain! To make you see the light?

— Let me be stupid for a second. I know what I'm doing.

— Clearly, you don't! You're just a pile of meat and metal with two-three screws to hold it all together and apparently just as many brain cells!

— And you, what are you? I've saved your life enough times to keep your mouth shut. If you don't trust us, you can break our window and disappear dramatically. I know you'll come back.

Envy moves toward the window in a fit of anger before realizing that if they take another step closer, the soldiers in the gardens will see them. They stop, their body swaying.

— So... they start again. Your plan is to topple the regime?

— Yes, it is.

— That, I can understand. It's Mustang, right?

— Mustang and Olivier have offered me their help. They want to bring about a republic. Olivier because she knows she can get elected and Mustang because he thinks it's right. Olivier trusted Greed, she trusts you. Mustang... Mustang trusts me. But they need guarantees.

— And that means a full list of traitors and ongoing conspiracies and solutions to... I have to do all the work. As usual.

— I need you. One needs you. I and Al have been keeping our distance on purpose. I'm going to need you to find our allies, our... Your usual stuff.

— Do I have your permission to take on your appearance?

— Yes. But come back every night.  Please . It will give us time to organize the rest. May has to leave without it seeming too sudden. We have to organize the escape from our research. We need to go back to the house, get our stuff. We have to warn Grandma and Winry, they must hide without being seen, we'll have to...

— You've done worse, cut in Envy. And what do I do with all this?

— I'd pass it on to Armstrong or Mustang. We have trusted channels and codes. They'll do what they want with it.

— What about me? If they know there's a shapeshifter running around town, it's going to make a hell of a mess.

— Our master's on it.

— Taking care of what?

— By tomorrow, you'll be spotted in the old Dublith hideouts where Greed and the chimera used to live. The army will remain cautious, but if they think you've fled, you'll be fine. You'll even kidnap Winry there. And kill her. I mean,  pretend to , just in…

— I would never in my life go where my brother lived. And I'd probably-

— They don't know that. You're so fucking picky!

Envy sneers and moves closer, smoothing out the folds in the back of Edward's shirt. Hair clings to it, slipping under Envy's fingers.

— So that's it, Envy says. You're betraying your country. Because of me.

— You expected it, didn't you?

— If I knew you loved me that much, I'd have been smarter and we wouldn't be here now, Envy mumbles, sliding their chin over Edward's shoulder.

Edward's hair smells of lemon and raw sodium. Underneath the soap is his raw scent, one that Envy could recreate in every detail and yet always seems to rediscover.

— You said it, Edward summarizes. I've done worse.

Chapter Text

One minute, Edward is working at his desk, hunched over his notes.

The next, he is gone.

The blast sends him banging into the wall. The shock echoes in all his bones.

When Edward opens his eyes again, he is in the middle of a pile of rubble. He only sees white. Not a smooth, soft white. No. A swirling, angry pile of dust, covering his skin and his throat.

— What the hell... What the hell happened? But...

Against his palm, he recognizes the smooth wood of his desk: it must have fallen on top of him, protecting him from the blast. He still has ink on his cuticles. He checks his chest, his automail: nothing broken. The library, on the other hand...

— It... It should be there, says Edward. It's gone.

He stares at the gaping hole where it used to be. A few pages fly out of it like birds flying away. The front of the building has disappeared, bursting into the gardens and courtyards below. Edward does not go near the edge: the building rumbles and creaks as if ready to collapse.

The air is moist, still burning from the explosion. Edward staggers, breathing a big gulp of stale air with his scream. Alphonse had only just left the office to get a book. He had gone to the library to...

— Where... Where...

Words have the texture of pebbles. Edward straightens up, leaning painfully on his desk. Around him, the library is nothing more than a blurred pile of rubbles. The explosion must have had several sources. A few craters are scattered around the ruins. Edward rubs his eyes: there are limbs, no, hands sticking out of the stones.

And then, from the bodies, someone very much alive emerges.

— Ed! Ed, it's you!

Alphonse throws himself into his arms. He is okay, okay! Edward clutches him. Alphonse drops his cane, and Edward knows it is really him. The object did not disappear, like Envy's members do when they separate from it. Alphonse feels his sides, his pulse. He lifts two authoritative fingers and almost plants them in front of Edward's eyes:

— How much?

— Al... I'm fine, I can see, I-

— No concussion?

— Where... What...

— It's a good thing May's at the hotel, the library, she...

Edward struggles to keep his composure. The dust has covered his civilian clothes. It is now impossible to distinguish him from one of the soldiers. He backs away cautiously, eyes frozen on the floor.

— I was on the stairs, it protected me but... I ran... I managed to escape our bodyguards. We could-

— Who did it?

— Envy?

— No, no, no, no!

— You're right, not like that, Alphonse corrects himself, a little too quickly for Edward's taste.

— The explosion had several origins, confirms Edward. It is not an alchemical attack... There would be traces. Probably manual bombs, but who...

— The putsch, cuts Alphonse, still out of breath. Mustang has given us enough trouble with them... He was right. He was...

— Identify yourself!

Edward and Alphonse swivel: two soldiers have landed in the ruined entrance and, noticing their two silhouettes in the background, are now aiming at them. It plays out in a matter of seconds.

— Now?

— Now.

Alphonse grabs Edward's braid and squeezes, enough to make his neck bend. He sticks his cane against his panting neck.

— Don't come any closer! threatens Alphonse. Or I'll kill the kid!

Ouch.

A shotgun blast rips through the air, right against his eardrum. Alphonse and Edward threw themselves against the floor. Just in time: the bullet froze in the shelf, shattering its soft wood.

— Stay down!

— I'll cut his throat if you don't stop!

A soldier - Molotov, that's it, it's Molotov, in charge of one of the guard battalions - steps forward. Edward takes a quick look around: a dull roar begins to grip his prosthesis and bones. The whole building is groaning. It will eventually collapse.

— We don't have time, Edward articulates through his teeth.

— I'm doing what I can, mumbles Alphonse, before starting again, louder. Let us go, and I won't kill him!

— We're not coming...

Molotov takes another step in their direction, and suddenly, his beret flies off. He freezes. Edward only then realizes that Alphonse is armed. Armed and pointing the still-warm gun against his temple. 

— Now, what are you going to do? You want me to kill the alchemist? It will be your fault if...

— We're reasonable people, aren't we?

— I have your head in my sights.

— You won't.

Alphonse smiles more strongly:

— Yes. You're right. Alphonse wouldn't do it.

And he shoots him in the thigh.

— Too bad I'm not Alphonse.

Alphonse grabs his brother by the arm and pulls him along. They run until they reach familiar basements. Alphonse claps his hands, pressing his palms against the still cool plywood. The wall tears open, revealing a dusty staircase. Edward recognizes the tunnels that run under Central by the color of the concrete and the musty smell.

— Quick, get inside!

Edward rushes inside, and Alphonse closes the opening. They wait, pressed against the wall, for the soldiers to pass them.

— I saw them, they went that way!

The sound of boots and rifles rattling and then... Nothing. Alphonse slumps against the wall, letting out a huge sigh. His fingers are still trembling. Alphonse still has trouble gauging what his body can bear: he acts as if he is still (in) the armor. His steps are too long, his breaths too big. Alphonse is outgrowing his flesh.

Edward can understand: his right arm is treacherous. It hurts like hell. He must have caught himself on it when he fell. He massages his elbow and his shoulder, stroking the familiar stigmata where the metal used to join the flesh.

— Thank you, he murmurs, still catching his breath.

— You would have done the same. Let's go.

They slip into the corridors, lighting themselves with a lighter. Drowned in the shadows, they pick up on memories: you cannot forget the smell.

Palms against the smooth walls, Edward and Alphonse move almost by instinct. They have drawn enough alchemical circles to find their way.

Edward is slower, trying to keep his automail out of the clammy water.

Winry added this model to him before he left for Central. It is lighter, thinner, and more suited to the sedentary life he should have been headed for. Sitting positions caused him terrible pain, shooting up his thigh, gripping his buttocks, and pinching his limbs. Some nights he would wake up crying in pain. On the best days, it was blurry. On the worst days, it sheared his body, twisted his leg, and tore him from the inside. He could retrace the path of the burning nerve. And now? Now, he is too nervous to even think about it.

— Are you okay? worried Alphonse.

— I'm fine. Maybe a cracked rib. How about you?

Alphonse does not have time to answer. Something jumps out of the darkness.

— The hell! Envy!

Edward jerks away, bumping into the moss-covered concrete walls. Envy grabs his arms, squeezing too hard.

— What the hell happened? What the hell did you do?

— It's okay. I put him out of action, Alphonse gasps, leaning against a wall.

— You killed someone? insists Envy.

— Envy! Edward snaps, clenching his fist against his aching ribs.

Envy rolls their eyes in their sockets, pointing at Alphonse’s weapon:

— What? It's still smoking. So?

— I aimed at the fat. The military hospital is not far away. I pretended to be you.

Envy whistles in admiration:

— I think I chose the wrong brother.

— Oh, come on. Don’t act surprised, mumbles Alphonse.

— Can I run away with him instead?

— Ed, you're going to have to learn to shoot, insists Alphonse.

He searches his pockets, pulling out cartridges.

— I know how to aim, I... Edward tries.

— You have to learn to defend yourself in other ways. I know you love to fight, but your arm is now flesh and bone. No Winry in the world will be able to fix it this time. Think about your leg: until you're far enough, you can't stop to get it fixed.A fist fight is the last thing your mechanics need.

Envy fumbles Edward, looking for wounds, bruises, and bloodstains.

— If it was me, I would have killed him, they mutter.

— You're not killing anyone, cuts in Edward.

— What?

— No one anymore. No killing. Not on my watch.

Envy lets go and step aside, fists on their hips. A bit of déjà vu.

-- You're giving me orders now? they tease.

— An order would give you the option of disobeying it, refuses Edward, straightening up to look a little taller.

Envy stares at him, their eyebrows caught in a contemptuous grimace. They notice Alphonse, who is far too busy catching his breath to give him his attention, and agree:

— Good. Shall we go now?

Alphonse sticks his head against the wall, breathing in painfully. He misses his cane.

— We'll go to Gutenberg Park, north of the city, Alphonse explains between two gulps of air. May said that there were Ishvalian camps here. We can use their knowledge of the tunnel and hide for a bit. We can’t leave right away. They will be looking for us. We have to warn the others... We don't have a network anymore.

— How did you do it before? Envy cuts in. Before the Promise Day, I mean? I wasn't there, so I'm not surprised it was a mess, but...

Edward shakes his brother's jacket:

— I think we still have resources. Mustang can help us.

Envy steps back slightly, half disappearing into the darkness to hide their disgust. In vain. Their chiaroscuro features look monstrous. Sometimes Envy forgets how to look human. The face, the body, everything is there, but something is wrong. It is all in the details, and Envy clearly does not give a shit anymore.

— We've already done worse, Envy is right, insists Edward, his eyes shining in the darkness, his gestures so agitated that the flame of his lighter shivers.

— This time, Ed, I have to eat and sleep. And you don't have your alchemy anymore.

— But I have an extra arm. And Envy.

Envy rolls their eyes, not even bothering to answer.

— May can’t come with you. Too dangerous for the relationship between Xing and…

— Of course, I'm not going with you, you idiot! Who's going to protect our research if you don't? And who will help you if you get captured?

— If Ed gets recaptured, I'll say I took him, Envy finally intervenes, stepping into their little halo of light. And Ed would never have left without you, Al.

— You can't just-

— No, cuts Alphonse. Ed, trust me. I'll join you afterwards, by safer routes and take our notes and reports with me. I have to stay here to protect Mamie and Winry. I know what the army is capable of. You need me on the inside, to calm things down and... And if need be, intervene.

— Why am I the bad guy in this story? grumbles Envy rhetorically.

The lighter does not light up much, but enough to betray their mocking smile. Envy looks far too happy. They slip a discreet hand against Edward's hips, right against the hollow of his loins.

— Once I've managed to get our research and our loved ones to safety, I'll join you and May.

— Where to? Drachma? Envy snarls.

— Xing, of course. Lin will take care of you there. We'll be fine.

— And starting a war is okay? mocks Envy.

— Ling will keep your presence a secret. He can be trusted. Our friendship means more to him than you do about...

— No. This is…

— Ling is trustworthy, Edward cuts them off. I will trust him with my life. Without hesitation.

— Are we still speaking about the kid who gave me a fucking foot soup? Envy says indignantly, their voice going high. And you drank it! 

— Stop or I'll kidnap you! Edward threatens, placing an accusing finger against Envy's chest. We're going to Xing. We'll go through the desert.

— Oh no, Envy whines. I don't like the heat.

— Strange for a lizard, said Alphonse in a low voice.

— The trade routes are too busy now that relations between our powers are good. The desert is almost unguarded. We'll go through Xerxes.

— Won't they suspect you're going there?

— Who? Mustang? Armstrong? Yes, of course. But will they turn you in?

— I'm still in the equation, sighs Envy, nibbling on the tips of their fingernails.

— For the Elric, Alphonse reminds him, quoting Mustang. He's willing to put his revenge aside if it'll save Edward.

— Edward is not in danger, not...

— Yes, he is, Envy. We are in danger. We're going to be an embarrassment, and regimes love to have martyrs.

— Oh, for fuck’s sake! Envy, does it seem so crazy that we're doing this for you? Not just for research? Not just for us, for science, for the truth? For you?

Envy stares at him, bewildered. Another day, Edward would have laughed at their stunned grimace, their flailing arms.

— We can’t slip up. Not again.

— We will find each other. We always did.

Chapter Text

Central is set deep inside a valley, dug by the rivers for millennia. Slow hills surround it, covered with small mansions, country cottages, manors, vineyards, and fields. The upper-class settled there to escape the city's acrid air. Industrialization quickly caught up with them, with factories aggressively colonizing the river's banks. Where once you could only get there by horse-drawn carriage and private car, now a railroad cuts the neighborhoods in half. It looks like any other city's district: the same limestone facades and zinc roofs. From here, you still get a spectacular view of the capital. Too bad: Edward does not care. Envy runs at a local's pace, Edward's coat slapping behind their back.

— Where are we going? stumbles Edward, struggling to keep up. We're going to get spotted!

— If you don't stop yelling, we're going to get spotted!

— We were supposed to meet Alphonse to...

— I have a better idea, I am telling you. We'll send him a sign.

— We can't just change our plan. We have to...

— Find him? He'll be tracked. We can't risk seeing him for at least a few days. Trust me on this.

— You just...

— I got this. You don't. I've always been able to find you, Envy threatens. Ah, there it is.

They stop dead in front of one of the private hotels' heavy doors. They climb the few steps that separate the building from the street, snapping:

— Are you out of breath already? Oh, Ed, you're getting old.

— You see, I thought I'd been through enough stuff for a fucking lifetime!

— Liar. Take this.

Envy lets their long coat slide off, pushing it aside with a deceptively careless kick. The alchemist's watch painfully scraps on the cobblestones. Edward clenches his teeth, bending down to pick it up. Envy stares at him:

— We're going to have to change the way you look.

— It's been two years since I last appeared in public. You'll be fine.

— You haven't grown, kid. Your hair...

— What about my hair?

— Nothing smiled Envy. Hide my coat.

— That's my...

— Here we go, they inhale, grabbing the handle.

A lightning flash passes through them, stretching their body, boiling their face, and... Lust appears. Edward stumbles, taken aback. Her chiseled cheeks, pouty lips, burgundy eyes with a cat-like's pupil, greasy mascara, her... Well, her... Envy grabs the handle, their nails clicking against the bronze, and steps forward.

— Miss! It's been so long!

A concierge trots up to them, running from the lobby. Edward sees an automail, pointing underneath his cotton pants. A shitty one: the poor man has to drag it. Envy does not move an inch to help him, exhibiting their usual shit-eating grin.

— Oh, miss... It's been two years, two years already! We thought you disappeared with all the... You know, during the events, the...

Envy extends a dainty hand to him. The little man cheerfully kisses it.

— Oh, no cajolery. You still got your pay, right?

— Yes, yes, always on time. Your banker made sure of that. But still... I mean, we worried.

— Not enough to send a search party, Envy minces, writhing their hips.

— It would betray the spirit of our establishment. Discretion above all.

— That and cleaning, cuts in Envy, strutting towards the stairs.

— You have mail, by the way, you have...

— Burn everything.

— You don't have... No bags?

— We're just passing through, mumbles Envy, already on the second floor.

Edward follows him a few steps behind. His prosthesis hurts like hell, a white, molten pain spreading in his entire body. 

— Where are we now?

— Trust me.

On the third floor, Envy sticks their finger in one of the doors' locks, forming a key and:

— And voilà!

They rush into the apartment. Edward is not even inside yet, and Envy is already resuming their appearance, lightning bolts banging against the egg-white plaster walls.

— Oh, that feels good... This shit is heavy! sighs Envy, massaging their ribs.

— She... She is dead! Doesn't that bother you?

— Unlike you, I can tell a magic trick from a person, mocks Envy, venturing into the apartment.

Envy collapses into the couch, dangerously twisting the cushions under their weight. Edward sights and looks at his reflection in a mirror. He looks pale, almost hollowed out. His blond hair disappears under the plaster dust and his suit, under the underground's mud. He takes off his muddy boots, slipping lightly on the entrance's tiled floor. He steps a bit into the apartment, still tense. It is empty.

— Whose house is this?

— My house, mumbles Envy.

— But who...

— Shared it with Lust. We each have our own room. We have a joint bank account, and everything is automated. We just had to pretend to be our own children inheriting the place, once in a while... People didn't care. They don't mind when a woman doesn't age.

— But- Nevermind.

Winter light pours in, frilly against the stained-glass windows and curtains, before washing over the cherry wood floor. The closets are full of silverware, bound books, and strange knickknacks. Edward cannot afford any of this. He is even reluctant to breathe as if his mere presence could tarnish the place.

— It's...

Envy straightens, their hair a mess.

— What? I picked the furniture so you can keep your-

— I didn't think you were capable of... Well, this.

— Of having a life? Before you were born, you know, not much happened. Father would disappear for months at a time on His research... Pride would stay by His side... We could get away from His watchful eye, then. Pride would leave us alone. He had to supervise the tunnels with Sloth. So, two centuries... You have to keep busy.

— You... What were you doing?

Envy shrugs:

— Whatever, I guess. Salons, dinners, parties... Lust mainly used it to fuck women and-

— Women?

— Fucking guys was work-related. Strictly business, states Envy without looking at him. Women, on the other hand... Don't look at me like that. I also don't get the appeal. And, yikes... Greed used to come here too. Hellish. That idiot smelled. Fucking dirty! Worse than your smelly mutt...

— You love Den! Edward snarls.

Envy raises their eyes, getting up and disappearing into the blue tiles-covered bathroom. Edward wanders a bit around the living room. He is stunned to realize that, before everything, before him, Envy was someone else. A person. With their own apartment, life, habits, hobbies... Century and century of that, of a life that Edward could never imagine. He cannot even imagine what his own life is going to look like tomorrow.

Edward will never admit it - he would rather die - but he is relieved to be on the run. Finally. His life has a direction, a horizon. He is no longer trapped in memories, nightmares, or endless replays of every decision, every word. He can run away from it - from everything. He can feel the adrenaline, burning muscles, no address, nothing but a train to catch.

— Go wash, Envy shouts. You are spreading fucking filth on my carpets...

Edward hesitates, overstimulated.

— I can come with you, insists Envy.

Edward cautiously makes his way to the bathroom. Envy is already busy pouring ointments, oils, and scented salts into the rising water. Still clammy from the sewer mud, he removes his clothes and slides into the tub, cautiously cupping his sex in his hands.

— Move over.

— Will it hold? I mean, will you fit in the tub? You broke the-

— I broke Winry's truck because it wasn't up to industry standards. That's it! Move your tiny ass.

Envy dives into the bath, letting the hot water soak those limbs. They look different. Not exhausted. No. They look more real. Their hair and their eyes are muted, lacking colors. They are blurry. Flashes of lightning still tingle their skin, spreading a weird glow in the bath water. They are still healing wounds on their sides, hands, and back of the head. Envy is too damn proud to admit that it hurts, but their jaws grind painfully. It goes away quickly, sure, but it still fucking hurts.

— You can come closer, you know. I'm not going to crumble in the water.

— I'm having trouble with...

Edward points to his automail, perilously close to the edge.

— I can't get it wet.

— OK. Don't freak out, Envy mumbles.

They slide their hand over the automail, and lightning bolts strike Edward's cheeks. Envy extends their palm enough to cover the metal, distorting their knuckles into a pocket. They dip it into the water. Not a drop. The sensation is different from being inside them. It's- Oh, fuck.

— Thankful, I see? Envy grins.

— Oh, fuck you...

Envy gets closer, moving their pelvis forward until it fits against Edward's. Edward tightens his grip on Envy's torso, absentmindedly kissing their spine. They close their eyelids, enjoying the contact. Edward moves his fingers forward to remove their headband before recalling that it's still a part of them. It is strange to know that they are always naked - and, at the same time, never.

— No more fucking showers...

Edward kisses them distractedly: Envy has no taste. They also have no pores, no heat, and no smell. Their hair falls back more limply, their skin has less elasticity, and, under his kisses, no heat. They don't even breathe.

— I should be careful, they mumble. My stone is getting tired.

— When you wear it out, you...

— I don't know. It's never happened before. But I know I can avoid draining it too much by... Not forcing it.

— How?

— Everything that I am doing here is an effort. That's not my primary form. I have to keep it up. I am gonna cut on some stuff.

— You-

— That just means having to live like you. Lowering myself to your level. Sleeping. Eat. Healing slowly. Being tired.

— What if- What if it drains completely?

— It won't happen in your lifetime. But better be safe than... You know. In case someone tries to torch me. You never know.

— I'll protect you.

Envy's glare stabs him. Edward backs away, hitting the ice-cold edges of the bathtub.

— And how? Ed, you have no alchemy. I am a god.

— Vy, you know I'm doing all this for you?

— I am the one helping you. You better be useful. Because I'm not dragging a ball and chain the whole way.

— Speaking of drags...

Edward pats Envy's hand.

— We'll have to go through Winry's. I need to change my automail, it's not made for this type of life.

— They'll suspect you're going that way.

— They won't. Remember? You kidnapped me. They think you want revenge on all Central officials first.

— So, Winry is going with us?

— No. She didn't leave before Promise Day. She's not leaving now. She wants to be able to keep working. She'll be protected there, and she can continue to help people. If it's not Dublith, her master lives in the mountains, she can hide until... Until it passes.

— So, we're the only ones running away?

— Alphonse will join us.

— And then what?

— I don't know, Vy. I don't know... At least we'll be safe. That's all I want.

— Liar. You love it.

Edward doesn't add anything. He just smiles.