Fullmetal Alchemist: Edward's Troubled Return Home After the East City Incident

True to his word, as the sun set over the horizon, a lone figure of a boy slunk quietly back through the front door of the Rockbell house like a kid coming back from sneaking out to a party. The purples and oranges of the sky made Edward's golden head look like it was on fire, which was quickly put out as he entered the now dark kitchen of the house. His eyes scanned the room, and with a sigh of relief, found it to be empty. He could hear the muffled voices of Alphonse and Winry upstairs, and the quiet tap of metal on metal as his childhood friend worked diligently on his automail repairs. Pinako was nowhere to be seen, but Edward knew that the older woman tended to sleep early. It looked like he could make a quick getaway to his room without being questioned about his day.

The heavy thuds of footsteps coming from the stairwell told him that Edward had spoken too soon. With an internal groan, Edward found himself reluctantly making eye contact with Major Alex Armstrong, a local newspaper in his right hand and a mug of tea in his left. The Major gave him a big smile, his eyes twinkling like diamonds as he took in the sight of Edward in the doorway.

'Welcome back, young Edward,' Armstrong's deep voice boomed. He gestured towards a lonely pot that sat on the stove burner. 'Madam Rockbell left you some stew in case you got hungry. She said you knew how to warm it up.'

Edward glanced at the pot, his stomach churning as it gnawed at itself in hunger, while at the same time a small wave of nausea made the thought of digesting food feel horrid. Edward gave the major a thin smile.

'I'll tell her thanks later,' he acquiesced, shoving his boots off his feet at the doorway and slinging his red coat on the hanger adjacent to the foyer. Edward made moves to scoot past the major and up the stairs to his room, but the older alchemist didn't budge.

'Aren't you going to eat some?'

'I have a lot of… notes to compile,' Edward said lamely. 'Got lots to think about given what Dr. Marcoh said about the Philosopher's Stone.'

Armstrong didn't move, so Edward awkwardly pushed past the man and started hobbling his way up the stairs. He averted his eyes to the ground, partially to concentrate on his wobbly steps and partially to avoid the searching gaze he knew the major was throwing his way. It burned the back of his head like a beam of light in a magnifying glass.

'Edward.'

The serious tone of voice made the boy pause his ascent up the stairs.

'I don't pretend to know what's going on in that head of yours,' the major said slowly, his voice unusually timid and uncertain. 'But I know you haven't been yourself lately. Ever since--'

-- Everything started to fall apart, Edward finished the major's sentence silently.

'-- the recent events in East City,' Armstrong obliged. 'It couldn't have been easy to see the things you've seen. Facing a man like Scar would traumatize any sane soldier, much less a boy as young as yourself. Not to mention the incident that happened at the Tucker estate--'

Edward bristled at that. 'What, you think I can't handle myself?' The boy snarled.