Title- Reunion: Rage

Disclaimer- Arakawa owns all, not me

Timeline/Spoilers- set during the first time Ed and Hohenheim meet up back in Resembool.

Warning- Ed's potty mouth

Summary- Seeing him again ignites something in Edward.

Author's Note- written for Oct 3 11 day.


Ed couldn't believe his eyes. Standing there at his mother's grave was the bastard who had been absent almost all of Ed's life. What was he doing there? He had no iright/i to stand over her grave. Where had he been, this asshole who had spent so long masquerading as a husband and father?

Something akin to fire licked along Ed's skin, his rage boiling out of him. If his father had been here, maybe his mother wouldn't have died. If his neglectful dad had been here, maybe he wouldn't be bruising himself dragging around metal limbs. If his asshole bastard of a good-for-nothing father had been here, Al might still have a damn body.

Hohenheim was saying something. It barely registered in Ed's mind. The young alchemist balled up all of his rage, his disappointments, his ifears/i that set in once his father slunk out of the house, feeding those emotions to his muscles. His fist was in motion before he realized it. Ed wouldn't have stopped it if he could.

The punch sounded like lightning. Hohenheim's head snapped back. The only thought in Ed's mind was 'damn, that felt good.'


Title - Reuion: Regrets

Disclaimer- Arakawa owns all, not me

Timeline/Spoilers - set during the first time Ed and Hohenheim meet up back in Resembool.

Summary- Seeing him again stirs up all of Hohenheim's regrets.

Author's Note - written for Oct 3 11 day.

Hohenheim's jaw ached in memory of Ed's punch. The actual pain was long absent, the bruise already gone. Pain barely touched him any more. Peering into the room where his son slept, the alchemist rubbed the area Edward had hit. He wished it still hurt. It should be swollen and painful. The fact that it wasn't was just a reminder he was a Philosopher Stone masquerading as an actual human being.

Ed's hair tumbled over his shoulders. The boy looked so young, so carefree, so different from what he looked like in the cemetery. Hohenheim felt like he was staring through a hole in time. Oh, he never had so fine a bed back when he could have passed as Edward's twin, but there was no denying the resemblance. Hohenheim had caught glimpses of himself in his Master's mirrors, seen his face glinting off still water. Edward was his son through and through.

And that temper. Hohenheim knew exactly where it came from. Hohenheim remembered all too well having a fuse that short, but he had controlled himself better. He had to, of course. His Master would have had him flogged otherwise.

But who was he to judge? He deserved that punch and more. He hadn't known Tricia died. That pain hadn't faded. It was inside his heart, sickening him, but he couldn't make his son believe in it. And why should Edward? Hohenheim had abandoned his family and it had led to ruin. He left because he thought he was a monster. That act, it appears, had been the most monstrous.

Hohenheim wanted to go pull the covers up, to make his son comfortable, but he had no right. There was too much to do. Could he fix this? Should he even try? Hohenheim had no answers.