"Er," Al said, checking the clock for the fifteenth time.

Ed sprawled back on the couch, feet on the table. "...Something up, Al?"

"No!" Al said, obviously lying. "I just, ah... want to go, um, go for a walk."

"Yeah? I'll come with you."

Al flailed. "That's okay, Brother! Really! I was thinking of, um, doing a little shopping, or, uh... something!"

Ed stared at him. "Look, Al, you can just tell me if something's up."

"No, no, no, I'll just, um, I'll be back in a little while!"

Thoughtfully, Ed watched the door close behind Al. Something was clearly up, and while he'd been trying to respect Al's wishes when he went crazy and started lying, like he had been doing recently... enough had to be enough, and this didn't seem to be coming to an end. Really, he thought, Al would be *happier* if Ed just knew whatever was up without Al having to tell him.

So he got up to follow Al.

Ed tracked his younger brother through the busy city streets, making special note of the somewhat nervous way Al was moving, as if afraid of getting caught. Al leaned against a wall and Ed ducked out of sight, peeking around a moment later to catch sight of someone tall and swathed in a cloak as Al was approached. Al nodded, cheeks red, and turned to follow the person.

*That* was suspicious, and if his little brother was in trouble, Ed wouldn't stand for that!

He followed them to a poorer part of town, hiding quickly whenever it seemed that one or the other of them was glancing back in his direction. There was certainly something strange -- Al was practically jittering, and couldn't seem to get his eyes off the stranger and his cloak.

As they entered a building, Ed snuck more slowly after them; he couldn't risk them catching him here and now. He made note of which door they went in, then leaned against one wall, pondering.

He'd wait until they were distracted, he decided, then transmute a small hole in the door to look through. If they weren't in sight, he'd break into the apartment himself.

The minutes ticked by before he inched forward, clapping his hands quietly together and pressing them to the door. Peering through the peep hole, he saw nothing, and nodded to himself, then transmuted the doorknob to let himself in.

Still nothing; they'd entered another room, and there were strange sounds coming from the bedroom, so he had an idea of where they'd gone. Once more, he carefully made a peephole.

Then he kicked the door down.

Al eeped, freezing in the act of pounding Scar's ass into the mattress. Scar let out a deep groan, then raised his head to glare at Ed.

"Al! You, you, you, you," Ed sputtered, pointing.

"Edward Elric," Scar droned, wrapping one arm protectively around Al, "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"George, don't," Al said. "Um, Brother..."

Ed paused. "George?"

Scar's scowl deepened.

"Your real name is George?!"

Al pulled out and Ed averted his eyes. "Brother!" Al pleaded. "Look, I love him! So, please--"

"...Al, he's a serial killer. And his name is George."

"Don't be hatin'," Scar growled.

"Just let me be myself, Brother!" Al said. "I know what I'm doing!"

Ed looked back and forth between them. "This is so fucked up. I'm going home. We'll talk later, Al."

Al sniffled. "Thank you, Brother."

Ed sighed. "Don't worry about it. You'd better take good care of him, George, or I'll kill you."

"Watch yourself, Edward Elric. My right hand of death still longs for your blood."

"George," Al snapped. "That's my brother you're talking to."

Ed picked up the door and leaned it against the frame as he left. So. Scar and his brother.

He wondered if Al would kill him if he left an anonymous tip-off to the military.