And here goes the omake. It feels weird to know that everything is all done and over with now. But I hope you have fun reading and maybe we'll hit the 400 reviews mark, who knows :D I'm going to miss getting and answering reviews and once again I can't say how grateful I am for all the wonderful feedback you gave me. Now though I'll stop ranting and without further ado:

Numb: The Omake



Edward looked at his face in the mirror, craning his head into every direction to properly asses the problem. A problem consisting of soft blond stubble growing all over his face. Well, not all over it, but where a beard is supposed to grow.

Oh, damn. He was growing a beard. Ed did not like this. First because it would show off his resemblance to Hohenheim even more and second because he had no idea about how shaving was done. And he did not like the idea of bringing that sharp razor blade anywhere near his face when he did not know how to do so right. Not to mention he didn't even own a razor. Growling in annoyance he once again touched the offending little hairs on his chin. Maybe he could fashion himself a razor from his automail? He was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the bathroom door.

"Fullmetal hurry up, damn it, we're running late and I still need to shave!"

"Well, so do I!" Ed yelled back in frustration.

There was a pause, then Mustang asked, "What?!" in a rather dumbfounded way.

"You heard me!"

Another moment of silence then Mustang said, "Well, hurry up then!" like he still couldn't believe it.

Ed gripped the counter tight, fighting with himself for a second before turning around, ripping the door open and pulling Mustang into the room. "Show me how to if you want me to hurry up!" he demanded and pressed Mustang's razor into the startled man's hands before deviantly crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The colonel just blinked in surprise. "You don't know how to...?"

"How would I if no one ever taught me!" Ed grumbled.

"Right..." For a moment Mustang looked like he wasn't sure what to do, then he found his calm again. "Do you have a razor?" he asked while opening the bathroom cabinet and pulling out a brush and a cup for the foam.

"No, I didn't need one until now."

Mustang placed the things on the counter, then took a moment to really look at Ed. "Huh, the runt is really starting to grow facial hair!" he then muttered to himself. Not quite quietly enough though because Edward heard it.


The Flame Alchemist reflexively held out one hand to press against Edward's forehead so he could keep the flailing Fullmetal away from him. Then he laughed heartily. "Growing a beard but ranting like you're still twelve years old," he then said, grinning.

Ed huffed, but stopped flailing in favour of crossing his arms in front of his chest. "So what do I do about that damn beard now?!"

Still chuckling the colonel dug through the cabinet once more until he finally pulled out a second razor. "There, it should do for now." Ed awkwardly took the razor, looking at it from all angles. Mustang on the other hand thoughtfully scratched his head. "Well, how to explain this best...?" the man mused.

"Well, how was it explained to you?" Ed asked with a shrug.

"I taught myself," the colonel admitted. "There was no one to teach me. By the time I started to grow stubble I was still an apprentice and well, Master Hawkeye didn't exactly care how I looked as long as I studied hard. I learned on my own because the stubble annoyed me and I knew that I would have to learn sooner or later anyway if I was planning to enlist."

"Oh," Ed said quietly.

Mustang just shrugged. "Well," he then announced, deftly putting some foam onto his cheeks as he did so, "Let's make sure you have a better start than I did, because I'm still amazed that bloody first attempt of mine didn't leave any scars."

"Yeah, I got enough of those," Ed said, not quite as grim as he could have though, and also smeared some foam into his face.

The blond felt a bit like a stupid toddler as he followed Mustang's instructions and did his best to copy the man's moves. Though oddly enough he didn't mind. Standing next to the taller form of the colonel, doing as he did and succeeding had something reassuring about it.

Ed almost nicked his skin though when he realised that usually the father was the one who taught a boy how to shave. But then he simply smiled and continued.

It was like family dinners at the table. There never was a blood relative of Ed around but that didn't mean he was alone.

He kept the new razor Mustang gave him for his birthday for the rest of his life.


Growth Spurts



"You've grown some, haven't you?"


"Sooo... do you feel less intelligent then?"


"Okay I seem to have been right."

"With what?!"

"Remember, we once talked about how you never grew because all your energy went to your brain?"

"And just because I'm taller now and don't remember that insignificant idiotic thought of yours you think I'm dumber now?!"


"I think you're the one who's gone dumb with age."

"I'm not that old yet!"

"You are."

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"You're both childish idiots, sirs, now go back to work!"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Hey Fullmetal..."


"You might have grown some after all but I'm still taller than you!"

General Roy Mustang and Major Edward Elric spent the next five minutes cowering under their desks in fear as Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye emptied a clip into the walls behind those desks.


The Crippled And The Blind


"How come you can walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water in the middle of the night without bumping into anything even though you never switch the lights on, yet now you walk into the couch?" Ed asked while coming out of his room to take a seat on the couch as well.

"At night I was still able to see shapes Fullmetal, now I see nothing," Mustang answered as he too sat down on said piece of furniture he just walked into.

"Okay. I guess that might be true... So when will Marcoh be here?"

Mustang swallowed. "Three. I think it's quarter to three."

"It is,", Ed said, nodding even though that was useless. Mustang had hated being unable to tell the time on his own. But when Winry had come to fix Ed's once again busted automail she had build a mechanism into the Flame's pocket watch that made it chime the time every hour and do an almost too silent to be heard Ding every quarter of an hour. Mustang hadn't known what to say, stuttering out a surprised thank you and treating the watch so carefully that Winry promptly lectured Ed about how he never was that grateful for her precious automail. Even now Mustang was holding the watch ever so carefully, moving it between his fingers as he seemed lost in thought.

"Do you-..." the colonel finally started but trailed off, before trying again. "Do you hate me?"

Ed stared. "What?!"

Mustang carefully kept his face blank. "I'm about to use a Philosopher's Stone...All the souls..."

Edward looked at his hands in his lap. He would've never used the stone himself. But then...

"I don't hate you," he said and it was the truth. Mustang next to him tried to keep his sigh of relief soundless. "You use those souls to become able to rebuild their home, their culture. You want to make the whole country better, want to make it accept the Ishvalans as a part of Amestris, too. If it weren't for that goal..."

"I would stay blind," Mustang said. And that was also the truth.

Ed once again nodded his head. "And that's why I don't hate you. You don't only want to correct a selfish mistake. You said all you ever wanted was to make this twisted world a bit better. And you told me that if you were one of those souls then you'd rather be used to help someone than spend eternity in a soul cocktail. I think those souls that are going to help you will think the same about you and your Ishval Project. They won't hate you. I don't hate you."

A lot of tenseness seemed to drop from Mustang's shoulders. "Thank you."

"Nah, don't worry too much, you'll make your face all wrinkled until it looks like the face of... what are those strange little dogs called again that made me accuse the owner of creating a chimera out of dog and naked mole rat?"

He grinned as he saw Mustang lighten up when remembering that story. "Pug Dog?"

"Yeah those!"

The colonel scowled. "I will not look like a Pug Dog when getting old!"

"You will if you keep worrying like that, so stop frowning!"

"If I'm going to be a Pug then you'll be a Bulldog, you certainly frown enough, too."

"A Bulldog is taller than a Pug. I can live with that."

Mustang opened his mouth to say something but the sound of knocking at the door interrupted them. Ed went to let in a serious looking Dr. Marcoh. Having been taken as the fifth sacrifice to replace Alphonse, Marcoh had also had to pay a price. From the man who wanted to spent the rest of his days healing people the gate had taken both his hands, leaving him unable to even put a plaster on the scraped knee of a kid. But Marcoh took it rather well, fitted with automail he tried to overcome his handicap and even though he had to rely on alchemy alone now he was planning on heading back to his village and remain a doctor.

Together Ed and Marcoh drew the circle on the living room floor. Ed had very carefully scrubbed down the whole floor beforehand. Even if whatever chalk dust left over from his attempt of human transmutation here had long since faded away, he still remembered that nightmare image of Mustang's mutilated corpse all too clearly and didn't want to chance it.

The colonel was decidedly nervous when Ed finally guided him into the circle. Ed couldn't blame him. So far there had never come anything good from contact with the gate.

Finally Edward went to sit on the couch, even though he felt like pacing up and down, his nerves fluttering like an army of butterflies, and watched as Marcoh knelt, then took the red gleaming stone from his pocket. "Ready?" he asked. Mustang in the circle nodded. Hands met lines and suddenly the room was illuminated by enough light to swallow Marcoh and Mustang whole. Ed didn't know if they were completely gone or if he just couldn't see them with the blending light, but as he reluctantly closed his eyes from the painful glowing he actually prayed to the gate to not screw them all over yet again.

But suddenly the light leaped out of the circle, grasping him, and the next thing Ed knew there was excruciating pain followed by a myriad of sensation that threatened to overcome him. He wasn't used to those nerves telling him anything but the cold contact to the metal of his automail. Then the light died.

Edward immediately scrambled to the circle, panic flooding him. What exactly had gone wrong?! Was Mustang all right?! And Marcoh? The doctor seemed tired but all right, yet Mustang was still lying down! He grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook. "Mustang! Mustang! Dammit Colonel, don't tell me it went wrong, come on! Are you all right?!"

The older alchemist groaned and sat up, rubbing his temples. The younger sighed in relief.

"Are you all right?" he then asked once more.

Eyes still closed, the colonel turned to Ed. "I think so."

"Good. But then what was that back leash about?"

"Fullmetal," Mustang said, opening his eyes, blinking a few times and then fixing a wonderfully piercing stare at the young adult. "There has been no back leash."


And there was that smirk that was only ever complete with that annoying sly look. Ed's own eyes went wide and he looked down towards the tingly sensation at his side. "You damn bastard," he said, the words meaning something completely different though.

"Never said I wasn't. And don't worry, they're okay with it."


"Truth seemed to hope that throwing me in with all those souls would change my mind and keep me from cheating It."

Ed just gaped. Mustang just grinned even wider, then he demanded to be the first to shake Edward Elric's right flesh hand.

Figured since in this story Havoc got away without being paralysed I could do Ed a favour :D


A sturdy piece of furniture

Ed looked down at the desk with a bittersweet smile. He was tempted to just leave it as it was and he was sure the successor of the job this house was bound to wouldn't mind, seeing as this desk was where a legend had been working at. But the rules said that all personal items had to be removed to make space for the next Prime Minister and that's what Ed and the others who'd come to help would do.

So here Ed was, having decided he would take care of this desk. And he couldn't help his eyes turning moist.

He'd first seen this desk in Mustang's Central-apartment and he'd never really realised how deeply the image of Mustang sitting at it, sometimes working, sometimes lazing about with his feet on the table top, had burned itself into his memory until now when he could see the picture so clearly. When he'd moved into the apartment Mustang had said he never furnished the room that had become Ed's as a study because he came to like the small desk in the living room. When he'd made it to General and bought a house the man had taken that desk with him saying since it had served him well and he felt too lazy to empty out the drawers there was no reason to leave it behind. So they had taped the drawers shut and put the whole thing into the truck as it was. Ed had never made a stupid comment about it because he too thought it would be a shame to leave behind this sturdy little piece of furniture when there were so many memories glued to it. Like that epic moment when Mustang had stood on top of it to practice his inauguration speech for becoming Führer while totally drunk.

And after finally having done the speech for real and while sober Mustang had moved into the Führer's mansion on the grounds of Central HQ and again the desk had simply been taped shut for the ride and taken along. Whenever Ed had come to visit there had been some papers on top of it, telling that Mustang still made use of it despite the big mahogany desk in the study.

But Mustang's days had come to an end, and the desk's days with him.

Ed smiled at the photographs on the tabletop before slowly packing them into a box. The old, faded pictures of Hughes and the team back then with Ed still a kid. Even that stupid picture of Ed reading on the couch with a paper cup of water balanced on his head that Mustang had put there out of boredom had made it here. Then the newer pictures of the family Mustang had finally founded, little Maes who liked to call Ed big brother and was never corrected on it and when younger loved to pull the blond's ponytail, much to the amusement of his father. It still amazed Ed how despite finally mustering up the courage for a child of his own blood Mustang had never treated him like he was any less important. Maes had once asked, "Why do you keep calling dad Mustang?" and Ed had said, "Because it's easier to yell than Roy. The ba- bald idiot keeps calling me short even though he's got only one centimetre on me!"

"Dad's not bald."

"He will be if he calls me short one more time." Ed had tried to save the situation. Mustang would kill him for teaching Maes curse words and insults. "But really? I keep calling him Mustang because that's who he has always been to me. I got to know him as Mustang and he proved himself to me as Mustang, gave me more than I could ever hope for while still remaining the same annoying pri- -nce charming who makes far too big a fuss about looking all proper. I'd keep calling him Colonel if he wouldn't flame me for that. And then who else is there to simply call our dear Führer by his last name? He's Roy to your mum, he's the Führer to the military and the world. For me he's plain old Mustang. And I think he enjoys it. If he didn't he would have already told me to please call him Roy. Or burned me." And little Maes had giggled at the mental picture of his dad chasing Ed with flames while Ed had good-naturedly rolled his eyes.

And now Ed was here, rolling his eyes as well but then wiping them as he put the pictures in a box, as well as all the other stuff on that table top. Funny how he knew the story behind every scratch, dent and burn mark on that thing. At last he went to the drawers.

He laughed heartily at a bunch of paperwork that would have been due when Mustang had still been a colonel. He went through some alchemy notes that were loosely crammed in there. And then his eyes went wide as he fetched out the last sheets of paper, a by now yellowed bunch connected at the upper left corner with a stapler pin.

He had known that Mustang had been willing to go through with it. But he'd never had any other prove than the man's words and his continued care. And that had been enough, it really had been, yet now that he was holding a legal and ready request for adoption bearing Mustang's signature he couldn't help the happiness flooding through him. And it seemed that Mustang had known what he was doing by keeping those papers because there was a note pinned to them. And underneath the doodle of a pocket watch it read:

I know that the day you look through these drawers will be the day when I'm gone. I figured you might need something to cheer you up that day so I never threw these papers away. Thought it would be good for you to know that I didn't leave this world to walk out on you.

So don't miss me too much and watch above my legacy, whatever that will be, I don't know yet. If I make Führer and turn this government around then kick whoever is going to be Prime Minister after me into their ass so they won't think about playing dictator again. And should I ever do Hughes the favour of finding myself a wife and then muster up the courage to have a child with her after all, well... I'm guessing you won't need any instructions from me to look after them because you'll be part of that family.

So I hope you found these papers, (you should have, they're in the bottom drawer where even you can reach them) and remember this bastard fondly.


Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, grateful to have met you

Ed decided there and then that he would keep the damn desk and put it up in his own living room.




And because I can't let you go all sad:


That epic moment when Mustang stood on top of his desk and did a speech

"We need to get him completely drunk!" Havoc decided as he stood in the kitchen, itching for a cigarette which the now general wouldn't allow him to smoke inside of his apartment and just realising that they had several stupid stories about drunk deeds of everyone but Mustang. And maybe Ed, who at seventeen didn't have much experience concerning going out to a bar.

"And how do you plan to do that?" asked Edward while shovelling some of the snacks laid out onto his plate.

"We need to spike the punch."

"The punch is spiked."

"No, what I mean is we need to spike his punch double so when we get out the heavy stuff he will drink his normal limit but without realising that he already has a stronger base than usual."

"You mean we make him drunk secretly?"


Ed looked around. So far their party to celebrate Mustang's promotion to General was relatively calm and Mustang himself was on the couch talking with Breda. Edward grinned. "Okay, let's do it, I always wanted to see him drunk!"

And so they proceeded to smuggle shot glasses full of the heavier sort of alcohol into Mustang's punch glasses. Some of the others realised it but only giggled and kept their mouth shut. The general himself looked at his glass with a confused look twice but otherwise didn't seem to suspect anything. So when they finally officially brought out the heavy alcohol Mustang was too dazed already to realise that his normal amount of drinks would be too much today.

"Hey Colonel!" Edward called, trying to bring the man over so they could stuff him into the dress Ed had transmuted from a bed sheet.

"'M a General now Ful'mdl!" Mustang corrected, index finger raised to underline the importance of that.

"And I'll probably keep calling you Colonel forever anyway, old habits die hard."

"Nah, I'll let ya gedaway for now but once 'm Füh-hicks-rer Mustang you can't do anything but learn 'cause my title will be al'over da news! There'll be speeches an' stuff!"

Oh, this was brilliant. Ed had to bit his tongue in order not to laugh.

"You'll do speeches?"

"Owfcourse! Like my inau- ..inauga-. No. inu-. Uhuh... inau- gu- gu- Ah damn it!"

"Inauguration speech?"

"Precisely that thing!"

Ed wondered how Mustang managed to say precisely when a second ago he'd stumbled over inauguration.

"Well, can't wait to hear it!" He chuckled.

"Already got it all done!" Mustang said proudly.

"You do?"


Ed smirked darkly. "How about you give us a sneak peak then?"

"I could do that..."

And five seconds later Mustang had managed to climb onto the desk.

"Dear people of Amestris!..."

Needless to say that Ed was more than scared when Mustang took him along for his first bender and pushed over a drink with a smirk that said Ed would be dancing on the table later on.

Well, Ed didn't dance on the table, but he climbed onto a tree and wouldn't come down until Mustang and the others called the fire fighters who brought a ladder.


And that's it.

I'm kind of sad but also kind of happy to have finished it.


I'm thinking about writing a second ending to Numb, the "What would have happened had Mustang actually killed Envy and burned Ed"-ending. But I don't know yet. If you want that ending just tell me somehow and maybe I'll try, though I can't promise anything. I'm also thinking about a new story dealing manly with Ed and Mustang trying to get a long. Right now I'm working out the story line.


Again a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who read, reviewed and followed!

The title of Review Queen goes to speedfanatic05.

Longest review ever should be sub.C.

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