[So ends probably the worst week in Maes Hughes' life.
Good riddance, you shit communist town.
He wakes up with a start in a familiar bed, frowning at his familiar drone wife. And then it hits him. He's back in Mayfield. He was just watching that television broadcast with Grady and that damned Russian... and now--Winry and the others! Alphonse and
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[ Winry came to his house as quickly as she could. She's just been running all over ever since she woke up. So she's probably looking exhausted, emotionally and physically. ]
M...Mr Hughes...! you're okay...!
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Winry, thank goodness you're all right.
Is Edward and Alphonse okay?
[He asks as calmly as he can, fearing something was wrong still, fearing that one of them were in danger, despite this bluer sky and happier scenery...]
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Is everything okay at your house?
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[A pause.]
Well...
[His frown deepens and he holds up his arm and pulls back his sleeve, where his hand would have been. He prayed that they weren't so cruel as to keep Alphonse's limb as well. Hughes could adapt--he wasn't all too bad with his left; but Al... Alphonse deserved every bit of his human body. It wouldn't have been fair to him.]
Is Al's arm back?
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Ah--! You're Australia, then, right? Are you okay?
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You're okay? Nothing missing?
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Margot! Margot--are you sure? You're not hurt, are you? Is your sister okay??
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[For someone trying to sound chipper, there's a definite bitter and angry undertone.]
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They didn't get her, Margot.
[He smiles, almost feeling incredulous at the next line.]
It looks like the tractor drawings worked.
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[Shiraasan, worried? Naaaaah. Just. Just a little concerned, that's all.]
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...Your hand didn't come back?
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No, but it's all right. I still have the other, huh?
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