Chapter Text
Ed wasn't sure if he preferred his new job, or hated it. On the plus side, he wasn't walking around poking things until he found trouble. On the minus side, he still dealt with all the shit crazy alchemists could come up with.
Al jokingly called him the archivist of forbidden research, aptly named so, because there was knowledge that someone should probably know, just in case, but that also never should be used. And well, Grumman had said that at least with Ed he wouldn't have to worry about that. Whether that was because Ed was trusted that much or because his alchemy was gone was anyone's guess.
Still, it left Ed with the job of going through any and all research the military got their hands on, and only about four in five were interesting rather than horrifying. Maybe something about reaching a certain level of competency in alchemy left people with the impression they could play god?
Ed shook the thought off and decided he might as well detour past Roy's office. He hadn't seen the man since that bar night last week and, well, Ed missed him. Who'd have thought that getting out from under the man's command would lead to this: Mustang turning into Roy, bastard CO turned friend.
"Morning," he greeted the outer office, and silently mourned the smaller office full of familiar faces that used to greet him back in East City. But Roy had been promoted and his staff had grown and Ed didn't know the new faces well enough to really like them.
"He's in," Fuery said easily.
Roy's new secretary pursed her lips, but didn't actually protest, so Ed took it as permission, felt a smile spread on his face, even as he threw the door to the inner office open with way more force than necessary. "Oi, Bastard, you slacking off?"
Roy flinched when the door hit the wall, eyes wide.
A too long beat of silence, and then: "Fullmetal, that is not an appropriate form of address."
It felt like missing a step and Ed stopped dead in the open door, even as behind him the office fell silent. Ed wasn't sure where to even start with that sentence. And maybe there were better ways to react to that, but Ed had never met a problem he couldn't solve by pushing back harder, so: "What's up with you, Bastard?"
Slight hesitation and then: "I don't have time right now," Roy replied, except it was all wrong. His tone. The way he looked at Ed. He hadn't known how much warmer that expression usually was until just now. "Now get out of my office and make an appointment like anyone else."
Ed's mind was racing. What could possibly make Roy act that way? Hawkeye appeared next to Ed and they exchanged a single glance of incomprehension. Roy looked more tense by the second.
And Ed was only half joking when he asked: "Who are you and what did you do to Roy?" He wanted an explanation, something, anything.
And Roy's eyes widened in panic.
Ed moved before his mind fully caught up with what that meant, jumped over the desk. Not-Roy stumbled back, hand going for his gun, not his gloves, and then Ed was on him, slapped that hand away hard enough to numb fingers, before he could fully draw it, other hand going for the ribs. Then Hawkeye was there, took the man's other arm and twisted until it was behind his back, effectively immobilized.
Ed promptly took the gun and then went for the gloves, the knife he knew Roy had in his boot and the chalk in his sleeve for good measure. Only then he allowed himself to look at the man they'd just captured. He looked like Roy, same face, same hair, same built, same eyes.
And the expression all wrong. The dissonance rang through his body, leaving static behind.
"Who the fuck are you?" he said, but it came out shaky.
"Brigadier General Mustang," the man spit out, like he expected that to work. Roy would have gone for something more reassuring by now. A call back to something they'd know. So this really was not Roy. Ed had doubted that, even as he'd attacked, but now ... if this wasn't Roy then where was he? And how the hell did this man manage to look like him?
"Tell me where he is," Ed growled, fist clenching.
"Edward," Hawkeye said, voice steady and commanding.
Ed halted, looked at her, a little relieved because at least she sounded like she had a plan. "Check his pockets."
Ed hesitated only for a moment, before going through the pockets a second time, this time actually taking everything. He came back with two sets of keys and a note listing the names of Team Mustang with small notes on how Roy usually treated them.
Hawkeye nodded. "Take the keys. Get to his house and see if there are signs of a struggle."
Ed swallowed. On the one hand, he wanted to be here, wanted to make the imposter talk, wanted answers now, not later. On the other he had trouble even looking at Not-Roy. Trouble seeing a face he lo-liked and finding a stranger behind it.
The latter won out. "Fine."
"If you don't find anything, stay there. We'll call with an update."
Ed just nodded tightly.
Ed had seen Roy's house exactly once, when he'd made sure he got home in one piece after last week's night out. At the time it had been dark and Ed had had more important things to pay attention to. Roy mostly.
Now it was the middle of the day and there were no obvious signs of a struggle, never mind an actual fight.
Ed tried both sets of keys and hit gold with the second one, so he let himself into Roy's place. Nothing in it looked out of place. It was clean. Spartan.
Ed walked through the rooms one by one, looked for open windows or broken glass or whatever, but nothing. Whatever happened, either it didn't happen here, or they'd gotten rid of the evidence.
The problem was that this left Ed with nothing to do but wait. Alone in Roy's home. Under different circumstances Ed might have liked to poke around. As it was it felt ... wrong.
But doing nothing gave him time to think and that ... that was worse, because his mind started conjuring all the possibilities of what had happened to Roy. What Not-Roy had done to look like him.
Human transmutation came to mind, or rather transmuting a body to look like someone else. It was risky as fuck, but theoretically doable. Ed was even fairly certain it wouldn't trigger the gate, but the level of difficulty required to do it safely ... it would have been beyond Ed even when he'd still had alchemy.
What else could lead to such a perfect copy though? Transfer a brain? The very thought made him want to throw up and he had to remind himself that even with alchemy in play, things like bodies rejecting transplants was a thing, so that wasn't something someone was likely to do beyond the shortest of short term solutions.
But then there was ... well. There was that one chimera that looked human and acted like a dog. Ed's stomach churned again. That option might have a greater chance of Roy's survival, but it was still ... horrifying.
He was glad when the phone rang.
"Mustang residence," Ed greeted.
"Boss, we got an address," Havoc said without preamble, "Two doors down from where you are. Number eight. We'll be there in fifteen."
"I'll take a look," Ed replied, heart starting to thunder with the familiar promise of action.
"Wait for us. The Chief will kill us if something happens to you," Havoc said.
Ed snorted. "He'll have to go through me." Or he would if Roy was actually alive to be pissed. Technically Ed wasn't supposed to be in the field. Not any more, but he'd like to see anyone trying to stop him.
He hung up before Havoc could get the bright idea to have Hawkeye do the convincing, then strode out, belatedly remembered to lock the door behind him and then stalked up to number eight.
It was a nondescript house, matching the ones around it perfectly.
Havoc wanted him to have backup. That implied accomplices, so he'd just have to knock and see what shook lose. He didn't look much like the Fullmetal Alchemist these days, lack of signature colors and all, so he shouldn't seem too alarming. Right?
It took a long, long while. And then the door opened cautiously and not very far.
Ed considered half a moment that the Not-Roy could have lied, that this was just some random house. Then he thought fuck it and rammed his shoulder into the door, forcing it all the way open and making the guy behind stumble to the ground. Ed followed suit by kicking the arm that had held a knife.
"Where is he?"
The man's eyes flickered to a door, before settling back on Ed. Right. Ed swiftly punched his lights out, then hesitated a long moment, trying to hear anyone else, but the house was silent. If only he could be sure that was actually true. Instead he would have to clear the rooms.
Ed pulled one of Hughes' old throwing knives out. It wasn't quite as flexible as alchemy, but it did give him range against people with guns without being too deadly for comfort. And well, they'd been a present from Gracia. Ed shook that thought off too and worked his way systematically through the house room by room. There was no-one else on the ground floor or upper level, which left the door that likely led to the basement. The one the guy had indicated.
Ed eased the door open, took in the stairs and total lack of cover and then practically threw himself down the stairs, hopefully fast enough so anyone waiting to ambush him would have a hard time aiming. He needn't have bothered, the room was empty, apart from a giant array drawn in chalk on the floor. Parts of it were smudged beyond recognition, but even at first glance Ed could tell he didn't like it one bit. There were soul references in there.
There were two doors leading out of there. One open, one closed.
Ed chanced a glance at the open one and found an office that looked like it belonged to someone with some background in military intelligence.
The other door was locked.
"Oi, Bastard, you in there?"
A beat of silence and then: "Ed?" The voice was muffled and also definitely not Roy's and yet ...
"Yes."
He tried to just open the door, but unsurprisingly it didn't budge. He wondered for a moment if he could kick it in, then shrugged and tried just that, automail foot crashing into it with all the force Ed could muster.
The door rattled and a deep dent was left right next to the lock, where his foot had hit. Close enough. Ed tried again and this time the wood splintered all the way through. Ed yanked hard at the remains and the door creaked and gave way, allowing Ed to look into the room beyond.
It was bare, except for a man with black hair, even if it was shorter than it should be. He also had blue eyes and a leaner face. His wrists, both bloodied, were stuck in manacles linked to the wall, effectively keeping him from doing alchemy. But it was the way the guy was looking at Ed, the way that gaze carried all the warmth that Not-Roy had lacked.
And Ed wanted to believe that this was him, but ... "Tell me who you are!"
And the guy smiled, weak though it was. "Appearances aside, I'm Roy Mustang. And kinda hoping you know how to reverse this. I definitely prefer the way you look at me when I'm in my own body." What?
A pause and then: "Damn, that truth drug is still in my system."
Truth drug? Wait, no. Never mind.
"Something only Roy would know," Ed demanded, heart beating much too fast.
The-guy-that-was-probably-Roy hesitated a long moment and then: "You hate the kind of research people bring you, but you do like the intellectual challenge of puzzling out how it works."
Ed felt a shiver go down his spine. He'd been pretty buzzed when he'd confessed to that one, but Roy ... "You were too drunk to even walk straight!" Ed growled. He'd know, he'd been the one trying to keep him upright. But at the same time this had to be Roy, because Ed had never told anyone else.
The-guy-that-was-apparently-Roy shrugged. "I might have pretended to be more drunk than I actually was."
Ed's heart started hammering, because why would he do that? And Ed tried to remember what had happened that evening and all that would come up was Roy plastered against his side in a bid to stay upright and laughing about something that shouldn't even be funny and the way warmth had bubbled in Ed's chest, because Roy looked happy, he let Ed get that close and seemed perfectly content with it.
Ed shook the thought off, because now wasn't the time. He was halfway through the motion of clapping before he realized that he couldn't just transmute the shackles. He aborted the gesture. "Give me a sec, I'll need to find keys." He made a mental note to learn lock picking as soon as this was over.
He looked over the office, found nothing at first glance, then raced back up the stairs and started searching through the pockets of the asshole he'd knocked out. He found a set of small keys. Right. And while he was at it ... it took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to heave the man onto his shoulders and then made his way down the stairs. He promptly dumped him back on the ground none too gently, before opening the cuffs.
Blood flaked off and made Ed grimace, even more when the-guy-that-was-Roy held his wrists gingerly away from his body. And then: "Please tell me you can figure out how to reverse this."
Ed gave it a moment of thought, but: "Probably," he replied, even as he pulled the other guy over and locked him into the cuffs instead, "This wasn't meant to be a long term infiltration. It's too sloppy for that." And short term meant they could reverse it.
The-guy-that-was-Roy let out a breath, a little shaky. "Thank you." The voice was still wrong and when Ed turned the face was too, no matter how much his brain insisted that yes, this was Roy. In a way that was just as uncomfortable as looking at Not-Roy had been. Yeah, Ed wanted this reversed yesterday.
Unfortunately, if the two distinct empty spaces in the array were anything to go by, they'd need Not-Roy for any reversals, so: "Can you stand?"
The-guy-that-was-Roy considered that for a moment, then put his hand to the wall for stability and pushed up, before Ed could offer help. The movement looked fairly steady, even if it left bloody marks on the wall. "Yeah," The-guy-that-was-Roy added belatedly, "I think they didn't actually want to harm this body."
That helped, actually. Knowing that they hadn't tortured Roy for information. Well, at least not in a permanently damaging way. That still left ... Ed derailed that thought. "All right, sit down over there or something. I'll see if this place has bandages and then I can take a look at that array."
Roy complied easily and Ed went up to the bathroom. When that didn't yield any first aid supplied he looked through the kitchen. When that also failed he took some clean looking towels. He kinda missed just being able to transmute bandages. Right. No point dwelling on that. He made his way back down instead.
The-guy-that-was-Roy still sat on the chair at the desk and was carefully looking through the papers strewn all over it. Of course he was.
"No bandages, just towels," Ed said.
"It'll do," the-guy-that-was-Roy replied.
Ed took that as permission to rip the towels into stripes and then carefully wrapped them around the offered wrist. The result looked clumsy and thick, but at least he no longer trailed blood drops.
"So, why did you pretend to be drunk off your ass anyway?" Ed asked as he turned to the other wrist.
"Because when Havoc was that drunk, you made sure he got home all right," the-guy-that-was-Roy replied and then grimaced. "Please stop asking me questions."
Ed's heart stumbled, because that sounded like ... "You could have just asked."
Roy stilled, looked at him.
"I was still testing the waters."
Ed's heart started hammering again, but when he looked up and into his eyes the dissonance of looking and not looking at Roy just threw him off.
"Right. All right. We'll talk about that when I get you back into your actual body," Ed said.
The-guy-that-was-Roy smiled at that. Ed turned away because that was Roy's smile on a stranger's face and just ... no. He turned to the array instead, pulled his spare notebook out and transferred the design, left spaces where they hadn't cared to keep the lines intact after they'd been done, either because there had been a struggle or just because they thought an incomplete array was safer.
The design itself was ... horrifying and Ed honestly wasn't sure how they had gotten this to work without paying a toll. And what was important enough that they'd even risk it.
"What did they want?" he asked, then realized he'd asked a question. Damn it.
"They're spies," the-guy-that-was-Roy said, "For Drachma."
Right. Also: "Sorry. I'll be more careful about questions."
"Please," the-guy-that-was-Roy agreed.
Ed turned back to the array. Soul manipulation. Except instead of drawing on them for power, they'd just ... moved them. Bound them to a different body, a little like he'd done for Al, except no Truth involved, because both souls were here, rather than there.
The easiest reversal would be if Ed figured out what the smudged parts had been and then just switch their positions in the array. Ed was fairly sure he could figure out the missing bits, but that still left the question of who would direct the transmutation. Given that Roy was going to be on the being transmuted end of the equation he couldn't do it and like hell was Ed going to let the spies touch the thing when it was Roy's soul on the line.
That didn't even touch on the fact that any and all soul bindings were unstable the same way Al's had been, doubly so if they didn't use an anchor seal. But once the binding failed, what then? Al's body had been in the gate and his soul had been drawn there, but was it because all souls went to the gate or because he'd gone back to his body? Now, with the bodies on this plane, would the soul go to the gate anyway? Try to get back into its original body? And what if the thing it was bound to was the original body? Would that help or not?
Ed forced himself to take a breath. This was safe enough to use or these spies wouldn't have done it. Unless they had no idea what they were messing with. Or were total fanatics, but Ed hadn't gotten that impression.
He needed to ask one of them. Needed ... he turned to Roy, tried to brush past the moment of dissonance when they guy didn't look like Roy, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Right. No questions. Or at least not incriminating ones. So: "Did you figure out what exactly they wanted to do with your body?"
"Partly," the-guy-that-was-Roy replied and then thankfully answered the unasked part of the question as well: "Classified files at the very least."
Damn.
"And maybe try to get me incarcerated. Here's a list, looks like brain storming crimes that could get me in trouble."
Wait. "As in, immediately? Or more investigate and find you guilty later?"
The-guy-that-was-Roy turned around and met his gaze. "Immediately."
"So they probably had a way to switch you back without both of you being here," Ed said, "See if you can find any alchemy notes on that."
"I've found a copy of the switching array, but nothing else. Either they're really well coded or they knew them by heart."
Ed strode over to look at the switching array, then compared it to his own theory on where it was smudged. The same. All right. He took the copy anyway, if only because keeping this kind of stuff was his actual job and made a mental note to cross reference it with chimera reversal. The research was horrifying but if he'd known it back when Nina ... he swallowed and dismissed the though for now. Then he focused on the problem at hand. If one array lay around open, then there should be no reason why the other wouldn't. Unless his theory that the switch was unstable was correct and things would just ... go back to normal, no intervention required.
Upstairs something clanked and then: "Ed?" That was Hawkeye.
"Down here!" Ed called.
A moment later Hawkeye came down, gun in hand, and unerringly pointed it at the-guy-that-was-Roy.
"You're thinking about getting a second dog," Roy spoke up, "And name it Kaito."
Hawkeye's gaze remained hard a moment longer, but then she smiled and the-guy-that-was-Roy answered it.
"All clear," Riza called up and holstered the gun. More steps descended the stairs, this time Havoc and Breda, carrying a thoroughly trussed up Roy. Well. Not-Roy as it was. They deposited him in the corner.
"Can you figure out how to reverse it?" Hawkeye asked.
"I know how, if we get an alchemist we trust," Ed said, "But if I'm right, then we won't even need to. I think the switch is unstable. If we're lucky this will just ... stop."
"How sure are you?" the-guy-that-was-Roy asked.
Ed shrugged. "Getting Al or Teacher here will take a while and I don't trust anyone else with that." He pointed at the array. "So lets hope I'm right."
"Do you have a time frame?" Hawkeye asked.
Ed shook his head. "Not enough data." Because it wasn't written in the array. And he couldn't exactly start testing this shit. "You'll have to ask. Not sure if the guy I found here is awake yet, though."
"You should not leave me free, if that's the case," the-guy-that-was-Roy spoke up. He looked around, glanced at Ed then the room Ed had left the prisoner in. "We'll go upstairs, Hawkeye, I trust you have the situation down here well in hand. Havoc, take my -" a pause, "-my body up with you."
"Sir," Hawkeye agreed.
Right.
"I just brought him down," Havoc complained, but lifted Not-Roy up anyway, who struggled weakly in his bonds.
And just ... how the fuck had they gotten him out of headquarters? Ed couldn't really imagine them explaining that one to everyone they came across.
The-guy-that-was-Roy followed Havoc up the stairs and Ed took the rear, if only so he could keep an eye on things. Roy had a point that leaving him free would be a problem once they changed back.
In the end they settled in the living room. Not-Roy on the couch, still trussed up, the-guy-Roy-was-inhabiting tied to a chair, though with his arms free, because Ed refused to do any more damage to his wrists. Belatedly he also got Roy a glass of water.
Havoc had settled on another chair, well out of reach. Ed just sat on the floor.
"So, how did you notice that wasn't me?" the-guy-that-was-Roy asked.
Ed grimaced.
"He got pissed about Boss' insubordination," Havoc said, smirk on his face.
"Ah," the-guy-that-was-Roy said eloquently. Not-Roy made a scoffing noise on the couch, but he was gagged, so whatever he had to say didn't matter.
"Knew that was good for more than keeping your ego in check," Ed added, though his heart wasn't in it.
The guy-that-was-Roy smiled and Ed looked away. Suddenly he'd prefer to be downstairs after all. He knew how to deal with psychos. He didn't know how to deal with the dissonance of looking at Roy and finding a stranger. Or looking at a stranger and finding Roy. Not looking at all probably wasn't the way to go about it, but ... well. Ed had never been that good at people to begin with.
There were steps on the stairs and then Hawkeye stepped in.
"Report," the-guy-that-was-Roy ordered, voice tight.
"Ed was right. It lasts five to six hours," Hawkeye said, "So another two at most."
"You'll probably notice beforehand," Ed added. Al certainly had.
"Good," the-guy-that-was-Roy said. A beat of silence and then: "Ed?"
Ed looked up, looked at blue eyes, short hair, thin face. Wondered if there was something wrong with him that he couldn't reconcile the fact that this was Roy. Shouldn't love conquer all? Then again, those first weeks with Al in the armor he'd had the same problem. He'd thought it was the guilt, but maybe ... maybe part of it was his brain being slow on the uptake.
The guy looked back at him and maybe that was Roy's concerned gaze, or maybe it wasn't. Ed couldn't really tell. And then: "We've got it from here. And I'll call when this is over."
Ed hated that he was grateful for that. "All right," he said, and looked away.
Then he stood and walked out. And then kept walking, just for the sake of it.
He wasn't sure how the rest of the team could roll with these punches.
He wished Al were here, rather than half a country away. He should call, maybe. And he might still do that, but right now Ed didn't want to talk. Didn't want to think.
So Ed walked home and called Winry instead.
"Rockbell Mechanics, what can I do for you?" she greeted.
"Talk automail at me," Ed replied.
A beat of silence, and then she started talking. Automail specs, materials she was experimenting with, that one customer who'd wanted a radio installed in his arm. And Ed let it wash over him and drown out his own thoughts until he felt more settled.
"Thanks," he interrupted eventually.
"No problem," Winry replied and because they had a system, she didn't ask what was wrong.
"I'll talk to you Friday," Ed added.
"You better," Winry replied, "Take care of yourself."
"You too."
And that was that.