Ed had been making his way through Roy's library slowly, night after night. Roy had said he didn't mind, but not to go through his personal notes.

It was easier to agree, Ed found, when the notes weren't in front of him. When he'd found them, neatly filed away and organized among appropriate books, it was harder to go along with that request. He would grit his teeth, force his inner scholar down, and put the notes back, moving on to actual books.

He picked up a habit for when he'd encounter Roy's notes. He'd pick them up and flip through them, not reading any actual words, just flip, and-

But these diagrams were familiar and he froze, looked down at the circle drawn in the margins. His eye skipped over underlined words, and, yes, it was in Roy's code, but he recognized enough of it. Can I find Corona? Is a lady like that just a myth? Is there a way to grant my needs without her? Corona, crown, the crowned hermaphrodite, the Philosopher's Stone-

That bastard, he thought, fingers tightening as he stared down at the diagram. He knew that circle. He'd memorized it when he was eleven and never forgotten it.

"Mustang!" he called, raising his voice, trying to keep the anger out of it.

"Yes?" The call back was tired and Roy appeared in the door a moment later. He was still wearing his uniform, having only gotten in from work ten minutes or so earlier, but he'd opened it at the throat, let it hang loose. He looked rumpled, tired, old.

Ed raised the notes. "You never told me you did this."

Roy's eyes flickered from Ed's face to the notes and back. "I didn't."

"You sure have a lot of detailed notes here for someone who didn't."

"Someone stopped me," Roy said.

Disgusted, Ed threw the notes down. "It's not the type of thing you can be stopped from doing."

"Yes," Roy said, mildly. "It is." He knelt, began gathering the notes together again. "There is only one known successful attempt at human transmutation -- when you soul-bound your brother. I've done some research. Chimerical studies don't count as human transmutation, because it deals with the body only. Human transmutation is more than that; you know that."

Ed crossed his arms, knuckles white on his flesh arm. "So?"

Roy clapped the notes on the floor twice, squaring them. "I believe human transmutation fails because of why it's done."

"What? To get back loved ones? People who didn't deserve to die?"

"For ourselves," Roy said. "Because we feel guilty. We feel we should have noticed. We feel we should have done something. We feel we should have got there in time."

Ed looked away.

"They're wonderful people," Roy said. "Or not. They might be horrible people, but you're responsible for them. They're dead, and there was something you could have done. You think, maybe you still can. It's to make yourself happy."

"That's not why we did it," Ed said.

"No?" Roy's voice was non-judgmental. "Didn't she make her own peace before she died?"

"That's not why we-" He broke off, voice choked up. "I would have died for her."

"I know," Roy said, and turned, putting a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Death is easy."

There's nothing Ed could say, so he just pulled away and headed downstairs. "I'm going to make coffee," he said over his shoulder, abruptly.

"I've something I have to do," Roy said, quiet. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

Ed went, put the water on the stove to boil, ran it through the filter. It was thick and rich-smelling when Roy appeared in the kitchen again.

The cup of coffee he passed over was hot and apologetic. Roy took it and sipped, then smiled faintly.

Ed put his own cup down and turned, pressed his face against Roy, smelled the faint hint of smoke. "You burned them?" he asked, leaning in.

Roy didn't answer, and it was just as well. Ed didn't really want to know.