We return - our burden follows

Strangers with common memories

It was the middle of the night when I heard the electric cackle and the loud, dull thud coming from the study. careful not to wake the boys as they slept - though I doubted I could if the noise from the study didn't - I made my way there. I opened the door quickly and froze at what I saw. Laying strewn across the books Ed and Al had left on the floor when I had rushed them to bed were two very human figures - indistinct in the darkness. I switched on the lightbulb. The figures lay face down, one with short black hair, clothed in a military uniform, the other wearing a red coat with a gold braid (the same shade as Edward's hair). I had to stifle my gasp as I saw them - unconscious on the floor of what was once my partner's study. The blonde one was short, I couldn't imagine them being past their teens. My maternal instinct made my heart pang - I got the blanket from the corner that I often used to drape over my sons when they fell asleep while reading and draped it over them.

I left them as they were - they didn't appear injured or distressed and their breathing was deep and even, as though they were asleep - and headed to my bed. I tossed and turned but, despite my best efforts, I could not lull myself to slumber. There was imminent worry at the forefront of my mind for the strangers asleep on my floor.

When morning came I made the boys breakfast and sent them to school - Edward with a large book he had picked up on alchemy in his little hand - without a word about the strangers in our study. Slaving over the stove as I waited for them to awaken was a rather welcome distraction from the absurdity that had seemed to surround me completely in the space of a mere few hours. The second they left I let my façade drop and ran to the study. As I went to turn in the door I slipped and fell. The military man opened the door, eyes wide with concern, and asked me if I was okay as he offered me a gloved hand. As I accepted it and was pulled to my feet I noticed a transmutation circle sewn in red onto the back of his hand.

The concern faded as I dusted off my skirt, replaced by curiosity. "Trisha Elric?"

"How do you know my name?" A well of worry built in my stomach and I felt myself backing up subconsciously.

"Please, come into the study. I think that we have a better explanation in there than I can offer to you verbally." He opened the door sheepishly, gesturing into the space. I was met with the sight of the back of the teenager's head as they sat cross legged on the floor, intently focused on the large open book that sat on their lap. The braid was neater than it had been last night, I suspected that it had been redone, and the red coat lay folded neatly to the side of the reading figure who instead wore a cropped, black, high collared jacket.

"Fullmetal!" The man snapped, the kind tone that he had used with me gone, replaced with a hint of irritability. The figure did not respond (also, what sort of name was Fullmetal?) and the irritability displayed in the man's posture increased tenfold "Oh for the love of-" He muttered as he strode to the figure, forcefully removing the book from their grip (I still was not sure of the figure's gender). The figure froze for a moment before hissing "Colonel Bastard, what the hell do you want?"

"Your attention. Why on earth are you reading a book in Xingese?" I watched as he eyed the pages of foreign symbols with confused displeasure.

"Because that was the language that it was written in." The boy - for his voice was rather decidedly masculine - spoke in a tone that suggested that he was conversing with someone who was rather lacking in the intelligence department.

The man drew in a breath "Fullmetal, you said you recognised the house, there's something else I think you might recognise."

The boy span quickly, with an irritated huff illustrating his movement. As he turned his braid came with him, whipping him in the face. Though that failed to affect him as he stared at me and I stared back. His colouring was the familiar, unique one that belonged only to my eldest son and the shape of his features - though his face was leaner and older and his eyes so desperately sadder- were of the same nature. The same thin eyebrows lowered in a permanent scowl that indicated both extreme focus and made him look far older than he was. His eyes were the same, slanted and catlike - though hardened to such an extent I was scared that they would turn me to stone should he decide that he was angry with me for whatever reason. Just as my Edward did this boy looked like a child of Xerxes - like Hohenheim.

We gaped at each other in stunned silence for a rather drawn out while. Our surroundings appeared to melt around us, leaving us in a blank, non-descript space that allowed us to focus strictly on each other's, supposedly familiar, faces The only sound to penetrate that silence was the combination of our breathing and an unexplainable metallic clanking. His oddly sharp canine gripped onto his lower lip and his brows furrowed, his slanted eyes thinning rather noticeably. he looked as though he was considering something. Then he clearly came to a concise conclusion. At once the spell was broken by the obnoxiously loud protest of an aged floorboard underfoot - a militaristic boot to be precise - and a muttered word in the same voice as earlier but softer, lower and disbelievingly breathier.

"Mum?"