Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”

—Yui, Again

※※※

The rain comes down as it never has before. The drops fall in curtains, in walls. The wind blows ferociously, howling like caged animal. The trees groan, bending, submissive below its mighty force. The flashes of lighting are brief but bright—they light up the pitch-black sky as though it were day. The thunder crashes with deafening force, rattling the little white farmhouse.

Inside, a woman named Trisha Elric is folding laundry, humming a happy tune under her breath. Upstairs, her youngest son, Alphonse Elric, is sleeping soundly in his bed, unruffled by the storm raging outside.

However, in their small, cozy living room, is her other son, Edward Elric. Trisha knows that he’s up, and Edward knows she knows, but she doesn’t tell him to go to sleep, despite the fact that it’s long past his bedtime.

He stands at the window that overlooks the garden in the front yard. His head barely comes up to the bottom of the window, and he’s almost too short to see out of it at all. He stands with his forehead pressed against the cool glass, his eyes unwaveringly focused on the storm outside. He doesn’t flinch when the thunder brings a slight tremor under his feet; he doesn’t blink when the lightning turns the sky white.

It is mid-November, and they are lucky that it’s not snowing.

In the other room, Trisha hears her son call for her softly.

"Mom?"

There’s something in his voice that makes her immediately put down her laundry and come into the room.

She comes up behind her son. She watches the shadows dancing from the fire, and hears the logs crackling.

“Mom,” he says again, his voice still hushed. “There’s someone in the garden."

※※※

Ed is waiting by the door as a soaking-wet Trisha comes crashing back inside, holding an even wetter little girl in her arms. She's tiny, he notices, even smaller than himself. “Ed,” Trisha says, calmly but urgently, “Can you go get a bunch of towels from the closet upstairs for me?” Ed nods and slips away to get them.

Trisha takes the unconscious child in her arms and places her in front of the fire. The girl's skin is like ice. Her breathing is shallow, but what scares Trisha the most is that the child isn’t shivering—not at all.

As Ed comes back, his small arms full of towels, Trisha begins removing the girl's wet clothes. She takes the towels from Ed. “Thank you, Ed,” she tells him. “Now, I need you to go get me some clothes from your dresser, okay?” Ed nods again, still oddly quiet—he hasn’t said a word since he’d alerted Trisha to the girl's presence. He goes up the stairs, and Trisha pulls off the rest of the child's clothes, wrapping her tightly in the soft, white towels.

Ed comes down the stairs, holding a bundle of small clothes. He hands them to his mother, who gently pulls them onto the blue-lipped child. When she is dressed, Trisha begins to try to rub some warmth into the girl. She takes a moment to stoke the fire, and the flames jump, growing in size, providing a bit more heat. She nudges the tiny girl a little closer. When she turns around, she sees Ed, his arms full of the blankets from his and Trisha’s beds. Trisha takes the blankets from him and wraps them around the girl, covering her up to her chin.

"Mom?" Ed asks quietly. "Who is she?"

"I'm not sure, sweetie," Trisha murmurs, pushing a few wet tendrils of hair back from the girl's face. "But she's sick, and we can't just leave her all alone, right?"

Ed nods. He's quiet for a moment, and then he speaks again, even quieter this time. "Is she gonna be okay, Mom?"

“I hope so, baby,” Trisha sighs, “But for now, all we can do is wait.”

※※※

For the next hour, Trisha watches over the pale child with Edward at her side. After some encouragement from Trisha, he begins to run a comb through her long, scraggly red hair.

She's so young, Trisha worries to herself; she looks Ed's age.  She wonders where this child came from—what could have possibly happened for her to be outside, all alone in the middle of the night during the worst storm that Trisha's ever seen?

She tries to push the thought from her mind.

At some point, Trisha notices that the girl's face is quickly growing red and sweaty. She touches her forehead softly, then sucks in a breath at the burning heat below the girl's skin.

“Mom?” Ed asks. “What’s wrong? Is she...?" He pauses worriedly, a dent forming between his eyebrows. "...She's not gonna die, is she?”

Trisha jumps. “Ed!" she exclaims, shocked. "Of course not! Don't say things like that. She's going to be fine; she just has a bad fever, that's all.” She begins to pull the blankets off of the child, lifting her gingerly in her arms and placing her on the family’s couch. “Baby, can you please get me a rag from the closet?”

As he goes to retrieve said rag, Trisha goes to the kitchen and fills a bowl with cold water. When her son returns, she dips the cloth in the water, wrings it out, and gently wipes the child's burning face, rolling it up and laying it across the girl's forehead.

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

Trisha feels worry gnawing away at her heart even as she shakes her head. “No, Ed,” she says quietly. “We can't fight her fever for her. If she wants to get better, she'll have to be strong enough to beat it on her own. But for now, we’re doing everything we can.”

※※※

Groggily, you peel open your eyes, only to shut them again with a weak whimper a moment later as the blinding light begins to assault them. Every muscle in your body hurts, your lips feel dry and chapped, and your throat burns.

You force your eyes open again, blinking in the bright light that pools from the window. You stare at the wooden ceiling beams above you, at the green-painted walls.

Green...?

You struggle into an upright position, your legs getting tangled in a thin sheet that is draped over you. You glance around wildly, heart beating fast. Your eyes land on a little blonde boy who is standing in the doorway. He turns to face you, and when he sees you, his golden eyes widen.

“Mom!” he calls loudly. “She’s awake!”

A moment later, a kind-looking woman rushes into the room with another little blonde boy. She kneels by your side, reaching her hands toward you, and you flinch away from her. “Where am I?” you rasp. “Who are you?”

“My name is Trisha. These are my sons, Ed and Al. You were out all alone in a storm,” she tells you. “I found you in our bushes. Do you know how you got there? Or where your parents are?”

Images flash behind your eyes, and the memory of last night hits you all at once. Tears pool in your eyes, and you hurry to wipe them away with your balled-up fists. “I don’t have any,” you say.

“What do you mean, you don’t have any?” the shorter-haired boy asks shyly. “How can you not have any parents?”

You get a weird feeling in your insides, and it’s not a good feeling. It’s like a hollow, dull ache, and you feel empty. You wrap your arms around your tiny waist, and say nothing.

A cough wracks its way through your body, and Trisha hands you a glass of water. You down it gratefully, and then stare at the glass, wishing for more. Trisha smiles at you knowingly and hands the glass to Al, and he goes into the kitchen to refill it. You wipe away your tears and force yourself to ignore the fact that your family is dead.

“What’s your name?” Trisha asks you.

“...Echo.”

※※※

“Ed?” Trisha calls out. “Al? Echo?” Drat, she thinks with a slight smile. Where have those kids run off to this time? “Where are you?”

Trisha opens the door to her husband’s office and blinks. “Oh, you kids,” she sighs. There are books strewn about everywhere. Al is on his stomach, reading one of them. You are precariously perched on top of a very tall, very wobbly stack of books, trying to reach the top shelf of one of the tall bookcases lining the walls.

“Are you guys in here messing up your dad’s study again? And Ed, you know better than to scribble on the floor,” she chastises the boy.

“Yeah, but it’s not scribbling,” he protests. “Here, watch!”

There is a flash of blue electricity, and when it fades, Trisha blinks at the little duck-shaped mound of dirt in the middle of the circle Ed had drawn.

You pout. "Ducks are stupid."

Ed wrinkles his nose. "No, you're stupid!"

You frown, irritated. "I'll show you stupid, stupid!" you cry, pressing your hands onto the circle. Your sparkles are black, and when you’re done, the little dirt duck explodes into a pretty, black dust that drifts lazily through the air. "Ha!" you gloat. "Much better!"

As you and Ed begin to bicker, Al attempts to mediate and Trisha puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh my!” she gasps, setting down her bowl of tomatoes and kneeling next to her kids. “That’s alchemy, isn't it? Did your dad teach you that?”

Ed pouts. “How can he teach us anything if he’s not here?”

“Yeah,” Al says. “We read about it in these books!” You grin and hold up the book you’d grabbed from the top shelf.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Trisha exclaims.

Your faces all fall. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Did we mess up?”

Trisha claps her hands together. “No, no!” she says joyfully. “It’s great! You definitely take after your father! My little geniuses, you make me so proud!!”

Ed and Al beam under her praise, but you wilt into yourself, hugging your knees tighter into your chest and pressing your face into them, eyes cast downward to the floor.

Ed notices almost immediately. “Echo, what’s wrong? Didn’t you hear? Mom’s proud of us!”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Echo,” you hear Trisha say with an unreadable tone. You glance up at her through your lashes. She smiles at you. “Silly girl. I’m proud of you, too! You’re one of my little geniuses too, you know!”

Rapidly, a smile forms on your face, and you fling yourself at Trisha, capturing her in a tight hug.

※※※

That same summer, an epidemic sweeps the country.

A sickness comes—and takes her.

And just like that, you're alone again.

※※※

Three young children sit on the ground in front of a freshly dug grave. Their knees are pulled up to their chests, arms wrapped around them, and they look lost. Not physically lost, but like they have no clue as to what happens next. As to what to do with their lives.

Not that they can be blamed, that is. After all, they just lost their mother, and they have no other family left in the world, besides each other.

“Brother,” Alphonse begins softly, “Echo; I’m hungry, aren’t you?” He buries his face into his arms before glancing over at the others. “And it’s cold here. Let’s go home. Please?” He casts his eyes down to the ground. “Once Dad gets back, it’ll all be—”

“Don’t even talk about him!” Ed explodes, startling his brother, who looks over to see Ed glaring violently at the ground. “That bastard doesn’t care about us!” He lowers his voice. “He’s not our dad; he didn’t even come to Mom’s funeral.”

You stare at letters carved into the cold, grey stone that marks where Trisha lays.

Trisha Elric
1878-1904

That’s all. That’s all that is left to remember the woman by. The woman who’d taken you in, the woman who’d saved you when you’d lost everything, the woman who’d cared for you no matter how difficult a child you’d been, the woman who’d loved you as if you were her own daughter.

You want to cry. You want it so bad; you have ever since it had first become clear that Trisha wasn’t going to get any better.

But you can’t. Your eyes have stayed dry, and even though you want the tears to flow, even though you want them to come out in a flood, washing away your sadness, your pain, they just... can’t.

So instead, you sit in front of a freshly dug grave, your legs pulled in and you hugging them tight, your mouth buried against your knees, silent and hurting and sad and angry and confused.

But not crying.

"You know,” Ed says in a strange voice, one you’ve never heard him use before. “There might be a way we can bring Mom back...”

You flinch. You know exactly what he’s talking about, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t been wrestling with the idea yourself. You bring one hand up to your mouth and begin to gnaw at the nail of your pinkie. Pain follows the movement, seeing as all of your nails are already much too short—you'd bitten them all down to the nub days earlier.

Meanwhile, Al startles and exclaims, “But I thought it said in all the books we read that using alchemy to make people is something that you’re not supposed to do ever!”

Ed stands up slowly. “That’s right,” he confirms. “That’s why it’ll be our little secret.”

“Ed...”

The boy turns to look at you, but before you can speak, a little girl’s voice hesitantly rings out from the cemetery gates. “I thought I’d find you here.”

All three of you gasp and turn to look at the blonde-haired little girl who’d spoken. Winry. “What do you want, Winry?” Ed asks.

"You know what my grandma says? She says you shouldn’t cry for loved ones who’ve passed away, because when you do, it makes them feel sad in the next world, too.”

“We’re not crying!” Ed shouts.

You look up at him. His bangs hide his eyes. He’s in pain. You all are, of course, but... Ed’s in pain.

You rise slowly to your feet as if you were a thousand years old.

“And who are you to talk, anyway?” Ed taunts Winry cruelly. “Every time your parents go away somewhere, you cry like a little baby!”

Winry blinks. “I—I do not!” she squeals. “I don’t!”

“Are you sure—baby?”

“I’m so stupid for worrying about you!” Winry yells. She starts running away. “I’m going home to tell Grandma not to make you any dinner!!”

“H—hey wait!” Ed shouts, running after her. “What’re you gonna do that for?! Hold up!!”

“Yeah,” Alphonse shouts, starting to run now, too. “Wait for us!”

You cast back one long, sad glance at Trisha’s grave before you start to run.

I’m sorry...Mom... 

※※※

“You were reading those weird books in the middle of class again,” Winry accuses. “You need to pay attention to the lessons!”

“Leave us alone, will ya?” Ed complains.

“So, what kind of books are they, anyway?”

“It’s a secret!” Al chuckles.

“In other words, it’s none of your damn business, Winry.”

“Come on!” she whines. “It’s no fair! You guys are always keeping secrets!”

Al chuckles again as he runs up to join you and Ed. “Bye Winry!”

“Hey!” Winry hollers behind you. “I almost forgot! Grandma wanted me to tell you she’s making stew tonight!”

Al turns around and cheers. “Yay, stew!!”

Ed doesn’t turn around. Neither do you. He waves.

"Bye, Winry," he says pointedly.

"Ed, be nice," you chastise him. Then, to Winry, you shout, “Don't worry! We’ll be there!”

※※※

“You know,” Ed says excitedly, “whoever invented stew must’ve been some sort of genius. It’s even got milk in it and it still tastes good!”

You smirk up at him from where you’re sprawled out on your back on the floor of the room that all three of you share. “I think you’re too easily impressed,” you tease.

Ed grins above his book, rolling his eyes at you before continuing. “Someone came up with the idea to pour milk into vegetable soup for the first time, right?” he asks eagerly. “That’s a leap of imagination—the kind a scientist needs to be able to make!”

You tilt your chin up thoughtfully and nibble absentmindedly on a fingernail. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Al nods in agreement.

“Of course it is!” Ed looks almost frenzied. “Just one leap, that’s all it takes! That’s what we need to figure out human transmutation!”

※※※

So, together, you begin looking for the key that will unlock the secrets of human transmutation and bring Trisha back to life. You train with an alchemy teacher to prepare your bodies as well as your minds.

It takes years of constant effort, but you want to see her smile again. You want to go back to your lives with her, the way things used to be. That’s what drives you guys, day and night.

And then one day, you're ready.

※※※

“Water, 35 liters,” Ed rattles off. “Carbon, 20 kilograms. Ammonia, 4 liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, 80 grams. Fluorine, 7.5 grams. Iron, 5 grams. Silicon, 3 grams.”

You help Ed pour the mass mixture into a container. “Now for the constructional formula,” you say, forcing your voice not to shake and give away how terrified you are. You have a sick, ugly feeling in your stomach, and you want to throw up. But your voice is strong and steady, and your face reveals nothing but confidence. The only signs of your true feelings are the ones you can’t control—and even those are subtle. Your legs tremble under your baggy cargo pants, and your hands shake.

Carefully, precisely, the three of you draw the complex transmutation circle, filling in the alchemical symbols, and Al writing in the words in a sloping print.

As he writes, Ed glances at you from the corner of his eyes, and sees you doing the same to him. He grins impishly at you and you roll your eyes at him, playing casual.

He slips his hand into yours and squeezes, trusting you with the knowledge that he’s afraid.

You squeeze back—you’re scared, too.

When it is finished, Ed and Al stand in the middle of the circle. “Now, for some soul data.” They prick their fingers with a knife and let the blood drip into mixture.

The three of you drop to your knees and place your palms down on the edge of the circle. Ed is in the middle, with you on one side and Al on his other. “Okay, this is it guys,” Ed says breathlessly.

You force yourself to smile, and try to swallow back your nausea. “We can do this,” you say, your voice finally starting to show your nerves, coming out thick.

You bite your lip as you let your power flow out. The chalk circle begins to glow as blue and black alchemy crackles through it.

The three of you keep your eyes focused on the mixture in the center of the circle. For a moment, your stomach eases and your heartbeat stabilizes. Your heart soars, and for just an instant, you think that it’s working, that you and the boys will finally be able to go back to life the way it used to be, and that you will finally be able to see Trisha again, to see her smile, to have another one of her hugs.

But then an eerie, black mist begins to rise from the edges of the circle, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

The mist solidifies, and swirls slowly around the three of you.

“Ed,” you murmur, just loud enough so that Ed can hear you. “Something’s wrong. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.”

As if confirming your warnings, Al’s voice rings out fearfully over the crackling of alchemy. “Ed, Echo, something doesn’t feel right!”

For a few moments, all that happens is the swirling black mist, but then the ground splits open inside the circle and a huge eye appears, spanning the entire diameter of the circle. Little, shadowy black hands sprout from the ground and writhe around in the air, and tears of fear pool in the corners of your eyes. Your heart is beating faster and harder than it ever has before, and you feel sure that it’s going to burst.

Suddenly, a few of the hands grab onto one of Al’s wrists, which breaks off with a crack. His scream is shrill and full of too many emotions to read.

“Al!” you and Ed scream.

Ed begins to lurch forward, toward his brother, but the hands grab onto his right leg, and it shatters just below the knee. He collapses with a scream of his own.

“Ed!!” you scream, sobbing. “Al!” You try to lift your hands from the circle, to shut off your alchemy that crackles black through the circle, fueling this madness, but you can't. Your hands stay stuck on the ground, and your alchemy continues to pour out of you like an open faucet. “No!” you scream. “No! Stop! Stop it! Leave them alone! Leave them alone, god damn it!”

The hands reach toward you and you flail wildly, trying to escape, trying to stop their approach, but your hands and knees are glued to the ground. All you can do is watch helplessly as the black hands grab at your face, caressing softly, gently, like a mother's fingers.

And then your right eye explodes in its socket.

Your scream is so loud that it hurts your ears. You feel the hot red blood come pouring down your cheek, see it pooling on the ground in front of you, and you are painfully aware of the gaping darkness in one side of what was once your vision. The pain is indescribable.

It can’t be! A—a rebound?!

“Brother!” Al screams. “Echo!”

Both of you look up to see him being dragged into the center by the shadow hands. He thrashes, trying to escape.

“Help!!! Ed! Echo!” The hands begin shatter his other arm, then start on his head. The boy is screaming, screaming, and his pupils are so wide with fear that you can’t see the hazel in them at all.

“Al!”

Hands stretch across the circle, and they are so close, so close, and then the world explodes into white.

※※※

Whiteness.

It is on whiteness you stand, with whiteness all around. Behind you is a massive stone door, floating above the ground with a dark shadow below it.

You blink your eyes. Both of them.

“Al?” You look around. “Ed?” Your brow furrows. “Wait. What was I just doing? What was...?”

A strange, garbled voice startles you from your thoughts, speaking with many voices at the same time.

hello

You look in the direction of the voice and see the shadowed outline of a person. They are pure white, and have no features. They sit with one knee up, resting their elbow on it casually.

“...Who are you?” you ask, confused.

They lift their arms above their head.

oh, i’m so glad you asked

A chill runs down your spine, and you suddenly really wish you hadn’t asked.

i am called by many names

i am the world

i am the universe

i am god

i am truth

i am all

i am one

and i am also you

They reach out a shadowed hand and point to you eerily.

Your long, wild red hair whips around in the sudden gust of wind as the massive doors swing open silently. You turn around slowly and see the utter blackness behind the door, and the same massive eye that you saw when you...

...When you what?

Why can’t you remember anything?!

You feel a sick, ugly feeling in your stomach, like your insides are trying to tie themselves in knots.

you have dared to knock on the door

and now the door is open

Black, shadowy hands shoot out from the darkness and grab at you. You scream and try to run away, but they wrap around you, grabbing you roughly and dragging you, kicking and screaming, to the doors.

quiet, girl

this is what you wanted, isn't it?

You scream and claw at the air, searching for a handhold, but find no purchase. The doors swing shut, locking you inside.

i will show you the Truth

※※※

The hands disappear in the blackness and you are plummeting—falling, falling, falling, never landing, tumbling endlessly through the oppressive darkness, and you’re screaming. In terror, in excitement, in anticipation.

And then the world explodes, and you’re in agony, in so much pain, and please make it stop, please, please, it’s too much, you can’t handle it, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop...

It’s like all the information in the world—in the universe—is being shoved into your brain at once. It’s chaos, it’s pain, it’s cruel, it’s too much.

“Stop!” you hear somebody screaming. “Stop! Make it stop! I can’t handle this!”

Oh, wait. That’s you screaming, isn’t it?

“Stop! I’m sorry! Please! No more!”

You’re fading, fading, dying, and this isn’t how you wanted to go out. You wanted to go out with a bang, in a blaze of glory, fighting. Not crying, whimpering, forgotten.

Not like this.

Not now.

You feel your body dissolving, crumbling into nothingness, into the darkness, into the oppressive knowledge. “No! Stop! What’s happening to me?! Please, I don’t want this!”

Then, in a single instant, everything clears, everything makes sense. Just for an instant.

You see Trisha at the end of the swirling spirals of knowledge being forced into you, and you scream again, reaching for her, tears in your eyes, begging for her to save you again.

“Mom!!!” you scream to her, reaching out. “Mom, please!!!”

Her hand reaches out, and just before you connect, it’s all gone.

She’s gone.

※※※

You’re in the whiteness once more, hand still extended, body whole and thrumming with something that goes far, far beyond fear. Mortal terror, maybe.

how was it?

You lower your arm and walk slowly to stand before the now-closed door again. “I...” You blink back tears. "I don't understand. Why did you show me that? It was too much! I can't understand it all!"

Truth rises behind you, and you turn to face them.

because you paid the toll

“...Toll?”

this!

Black alchemy crackles along what would be Truth’s face if they had one. Then as a single, bright green eye appears on the right side of said face, your heart and stomach twist in horror.

Because it’s your eye.

And then, in that same instant, your eye—that very same eye, still where it belongs on your face—explodes in its socket, shattering, dissolving, breaking into nothing.

You shut your eyes—no, wait, god please no, eye—and let out a strangled scream as you claw at the gaping hole where the object used to be. When you open your eyes—eye, you remind yourself again with a sob—Truth is inches in front of you, their—your—single eye glinting with evil and a huge, devilish smile spanning the entire bottom half of their face.

it’s the law of equivalent exchange

right, young alchemist?

※※※

You’re lying on the floor in your house, clutching your empty eye socket, trying to stop the waterfall of blood pouring out. You’re sobbing, whole body thrumming in pain, pain like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and Ed is screaming, keening, a horrible, aching wail of agony, and—oh god. His leg is gone, it’s gone, and he’s clawing at the bleeding stump. The floor is flooded in red, red, red, so much red, and it’s impossible to tell where your blood ends and his begins.

“No,” you choke out. “No! NO!”

“This—” Ed hiccups, “this is wrong! This isn’t—”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen!”

“Somebody! Somebody, please, help!”

“Mom! Mom, help us! Please Mom...”

You and Ed look toward the middle of the circle, and you want to throw up again—but in a different way than before. Because that... that thing in the circle, that thing you’d created... it isn't human.

It isn't Trisha.

You hear Ed whimpering as the light from the circle finally dies. The creature reaches out what is probably an arm, but the limb flops down weakly. It makes a sort of odd, choked coughing sound, and black, thick blood spatters out from its mouth, pooling around it, and then the thing is still and silent.

You’ve just killed your mom. She was at peace, and you dragged her back, tortured her, and then killed her.

Oh god. Why? Why had you done this? What was wrong with you, you sick little shit? And you know what, maybe Trisha doesn’t like you to use bad words like that, but fuck, because she’s gone now, and for real this time.

“No,” you croak. “No! This is wrong!”

“This isn’t what we wanted!” Ed howls.

You’re wailing, and Ed is screaming, and Al is—

Al!

You look up to see Al’s clothes and shoes lying neatly on the floor.

You’re too late.

Ed notices at the same time as you, and you let out twin screams of agonizing guilt.

Your fault! a little voice mocks from inside your head. Your fault! You did this to him! You were selfish, you wanted to play god, to challenge god, so this is the price you pay!

You notice an empty suit of armor standing upright in the corner. You stagger to your feet, falling over immediately, nearly passing out from pain, dizziness, blood loss. But you rise again, because you have to, to make things right, to save your little brother.

You stagger over to the armor, collapsing against it, intentionally knocking it over with the force of your body, the head clattering off once it hits the ground. You try to get up again, to drag it over to Ed so he can help you, but your legs just don’t work right anymore.

So you crawl.

You grab the suit in one arm and drag yourself back over to Ed, who’s white as a sheet. You’re sure that you look no better—maybe even worse, missing one eye and blood caked over your whole face.

You dip your fingertips in the blood pooling the floor and, with shaky hands, you begin to draw the seal on the inside of the back of the neck in the armor. "Help me!" you urge him. "If we bind his soul to this armor, we can still save him!" Scrubbing away tears from his eyes, Ed helps you. When the last, curved, question-mark-like line is in place, you force yourself to sit upright, helping to drag Ed into a similar position.

“Give him back,” he pleads. “He’s my brother! Take my leg! Take my arm!”

“Take whatever you want! Anything, you can have it!!” you scream. Tears stream down both your and Ed’s faces. “Just give him back!”

“He’s our little brother—!”

“He’s all we have left!”

You and Ed clap your hands together like you’re giving each other a double high-five, and then slam your hands down on the armor.

The world explodes into white again.

※※※

The knock sounds at the door, and Den starts barking loudly. “Oh, hush, Den,” Granny scolds roughly. “Don’t bark at our guests!” She opens the door. “Hello—?”

A man with spiky black hair and dark, dark eyes sweeps into the room, followed not long after by a woman with short blonde hair and huge brown eyes.

“Hey!” Granny shouts. “What is this?! You have no reason to come barging in here!”

The man looks around the room and nearly gasps when he finds what he’s looking for.

Sitting in a beam of sunlight pouring in through the window are two very small, very young children, a boy and a girl. Neither can be older than eleven at most. Both are in wheelchairs.

The boy has short blonde hair hanging in his face, blocking his eyes. He is missing his right arm and his left leg.

Beside him is a girl with long, choppy red hair. As soon as the man enters the room, you look up and fix him with a glare that promises death. You have a thick bandage covering your right eye—or, he guesses, lack thereof. Your left sleeve hangs awkwardly at your chair—you’re missing an arm, too.

The man stomps up to Ed and, ignoring his dull golden eyes that look up at him with dread, he grabs him by the front of his shirt and jerks him up from his chair, holding him in the air by his face and glaring a glare not that different from yours.

“We went to your house—we saw the floor!” the man growls. “What was that? What did you do?!”

You force yourself to your feet and deepen your glare, balling your fist at your side, clenching it so hard that your knuckles go white. “You take your hands off of him, you bastard!” you hiss at him, through clenched teeth. "Or I swear to fuck, I will kill you myself."

Your legs shake—you’re still weak, and standing is so, so hard. You can't even walk yet, much less throw a punch.

But he doesn't know that.

The man’s grip loosens infinitesimally, and then even more so as the boy in his grasp wilts, tears pooling in eyes, which drop to the floor, hiding below his bangs.

He almost drops the boy completely when a huge suit of armor grips his shoulder gently. “We’re sorry,” it says softly, in a young boy’s voice. “We didn’t mean it. We’re sorry,” he repeats. “We’re sorry...”

“Wait...” the man says, so softly that the words are nearly a whisper. “Are you...?”

※※※

“This is a surprise, to say in the least,” Mustang says quietly. He, Ed, you, and Granny are all sitting around the table—you at Ed’s side, so close that your wheelchairs touch—and Al standing behind you two. “I heard reports that there were two brilliant alchemists living in this town, so I came to check them out. The last thing I expected was two children skilled enough to attempt human transmutation.” He looks up at Al. “Or skilled enough to bond a soul to a suit of armor.” He fixes a stare on Granny Pinako. “I’d say they’re both more than qualified to become State Alchemists,” he says smoothly. “Should they choose to accept the position, they’d be required to serve the military in times of national emergency. In return, they’ll receive privileges and access to otherwise restricted materials. Given time, they may even find a way to get their bodies back. What’s more—”

Granny cuts him off by tapping her pipe loudly on the table. “Right after they came stumbling to my door, half-dead and covered in blood, I went over to their house to see for myself what’d happened. What was there...” Granny barks out her next words. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t human!” She grits her teeth, seething. “Alchemy created that abomination—it nearly killed them! And you want to throw those kids headlong into it?! Would you really have them go through that kind of hell again?!”

“I’m not forcing you,” Mustang tells you and Ed. “I’m merely offering you the possibility. Will you sit in those chairs, wallowing in self-pity or self-hate? Or will you stand up and seize the opportunity the military can give you?” He squares his shoulders. “If you believe the possibility exists to get your bodies back, you should seek it out—keep moving, whatever it takes. Even if the road ahead lies through a river of mud.”

He stares into Ed’s eyes first, and then into yours. Then he stands up and shows himself the way out.

※※※

(Outside POV)

Not long after, in the carriage back to Central with her commanding officer, she asks, “Will they be coming?”

“They’ll come,” Mustang promises her smoothly, silkily.

“That girl,” she replies doubtfully. “It’s like there was nothing left in her but anger. Like she’d been swallowed by it.” She casts her eyes downward. “And that boy. I’ve never seen anyone look so... defeated.”

“That’s what you saw?” Mustang smirks. “No," he says confidently. "There was fire in those eyes."

※※※

(Second Person POV)

“Are you sure you won’t regret this?” Granny asks Ed.

He grunts. “My mind’s made up.” He sits on the hospital bed, missing arm bandaged heavily, and his leg the same way below the blankets covering him.

“And I’m sure you feel the same way, don’t you?” she asks you, in a similar condition on the bed next to his.

You grin unhappily. “You know me, Granny,” you confirm. “I don’t have time for regrets.”

“How long with the surgery and rehabilitation take?” Ed asks.

“Hmm.” Granny considers the question. “I’d say about three years, more or less.”

A look of pure determination comes over the both of you. And the same time, you both blurt out, “I’ll do it in one!”

And then you look at each other, both with a faint blush.

Granny Pinako has to suppress a smile. “You’ll have yourselves spitting blood, you know that?” She is greeted by twin nods of resolution.

“Al,” you say to the suit of armor sitting between your and Ed’s beds, “you’ve just gotta hang in a little longer, okay? We’re gonna get you your body back—I promise.”

“Right,” the boy replies. “And while we’re at it, we’ll get yours and Ed’s back too.”

A small smile graces your lips as you give him a single nod.

※※※

True to your words, exactly one year later, you and Ed face off against Al. The boy throws a punch aimed for Ed’s head and the boy ducks. You take the opportunity to spring into the air and aim a kick at his helmet, which is blocked by his arm. Instead, you use that arm as a platform to flip backward from, landing gracefully on your feet. Ed swoops in, aiming a high kick at his brother’s face, and the younger boy dodges quickly.

Finally, the battle ends with Ed’s forearm held back firmly by one of Al’s bigger ones, and you being held upside-down by your ankle—much to your displeasure, of course.

“Seems like you two are in perfect shape!” Al says happily, watching Ed ball his metal fist and you wiggle your automail fingers.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees. “Now we just need to try some alchemy!”

You nod in agreement. You’ve grown very used to living life with only one eye, though it can still be hard in combat, because an opponent can easily slip into your (very large) blind spot if you’re not careful. But besides that, you are accustomed to the black fabric eyepatch that rests fully over your missing right eye.

“I guess it’s been a while since the last time we’ve used it,” you continue, peering at your mismatched hands. “Not since...”

“Not since the night we tried to bring Mom back,” Al finishes for you.

Ed closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before clapping his hands together. There is the slightest pause during which nothing happens—but then blue alchemy crackles loudly through the air, and then Ed’s automail arm is sharpened into a point at the end, making a sort of makeshift sword. “Yeah, see? That’s right on the money!” he boasts, examining the weapon with interest.

“Whoa, Brother, that’s amazing!” Al cheers giddily. “You didn’t even use a transmutation circle! You perform alchemy the same way teacher does!”

Ed stares at his brother blankly. “You can do it too, can’t you?”

“Me?” Al scoffs. “Nah! No way!”

“So you didn’t see it, did you?” he asks quietly.

“...See what?”

Ed watches the point of his blade. “Uh... never mind,” he mumbles before turning to face you. “What about you, Echo? Can you do it without a transmutation circle?”

You tilt your head to one side thoughtfully. “I dunno,” you say. “Guess there’s only one way to find out, huh?” You smirk. “Here goes!” You clap your hands together and place your palms on the ground.

Your unique black alchemical sparkles flare as a small crater forms below the three of you. At the same time, a black, sparkly, dusty mist forms around you and the boys, making it difficult to see. Concentrating hard, you manipulate the particles to gather in some places, sending shadowy figures darting through the mist.

Your focus is shattered when a wrench appears out of nowhere, slamming into Ed’s head with a hollow ringing sound. The misty illusion falls harmlessly to the ground in a thick, black, soot-like grime.

As Ed cowers on the ground, clutching his now-throbbing head, Winry screams at him from the balcony. “Hey, you!” she yells angrily. “Don’t mess up my automail!! Do you know how hard I worked on that?!”

“Well if it’s half as hard as you throw a wrench, I’d be surprised!” he groans from the floor. You can't help but chuckle as he hauls his ass up from the dirt, still rubbing his head. “For real,” he complains. “For once you could try acting more like a girl and less like a gear-head.”

This does nothing to ease Winry in her fuming. “You think I’m a gear-head, then that’s fine! But you two had better get used to it!” She places a hand on her chest and glares at the two. “Because as long as you’re wearing my automail, you’re stuck with this gear-head whether you like it or not!”

Well then, this is certainly news to you and Ed. And as much as you like Winry, well... you aren’t so sure that it’s good news.

※※※

“These silver pocket watches will serve as proof of your state certification,” Mustang informs you and Ed, handing each of you a pocket watch engraved with the Amestrian insignia. “These envelopes contain certificates of your appointment.” He flips through the papers on his clipboard before releasing a short chuckle. “It would seem our Führer is not without a certain sense of irony.”

You raise an eyebrow skeptically from your seat on the couch next to Ed. “What does that mean?” you ask around your thumb.

“Nothing,” Mustang mutters. “Congratulations! You’ve just officially become dogs of the military." He passes you and Ed a piece of paper.

“By order of Führer King Bradley,” Ed reads aloud, you peering over his shoulder, “this document certifies that Edward Elric and Echo Slade are appointed to the post of State Alchemist, and are hereby appointed the titles Fullmetal and Smokebomb, respectively.”

He stops reading. “Fullmetal?”

“Smokebomb?” you ask at the same time.

“That’s right,” Mustang confirms, still sitting at his desk with his chin propped up on his hands. “Along with their commission, State Alchemists also receive a code name. Officially, you will now be known as the Fullmetal and Smokebomb Alchemists.”

A grin twists Ed’s face. “I like that,” he says smugly.

You nod to yourself in agreement with your own name. “Nice and mysterious!" you mumble.

The Smokebomb Alchemist...

Chapter Text

“Damn it,” Ed scowls. “The Colonel's never gonna let us outta here, is he?”

“We already bought our tickets for Liore, too,” you complain.

You can hear Al’s pout as he speaks. “Does this mean we’re not going?”

“I don’t know, Al,” Ed says, climbing to his feet from where he sits on the edge of the building. “For now, let’s just get this over with, okay?”

※※※

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”

—Yui, Again

※※※

The Freezing Alchemist appraises the dead body coldly. “Water freezes, water boils. Either way, you’re just as dead.”

Overhead, he sees something glimmer. He has just enough time to leap backward as a spear strikes the spot he was just standing in with enough force to crack the concrete.

“That’s alchemy,” he mutters, seeing a blue crackle run through it. He looks around quickly, preparing to fight again.

A pair of brown boots step out from the shadows. “What a nasty thing to do,” a boy’s voice chastises him. The boots are followed by a short boy with golden eyes, blonde hair pulled back in a loose braid, and a long, red jacket.

The Freezing Alchemist grins madly. “You of all people should know that great deeds require great sacrifices,” he growls. “Isn’t that the law of Equivalent Exchange?”

You step out from behind Ed. “Save your breath, you asshole,” you snarl, glaring at him fiercely with your one good eye. Your long red hair dances around your jacket-clad shoulders as you raise your arms in front of you. “The laws of alchemy don’t justify murder!” you growl, clapping your hands and slamming them onto the wall beside you.

Several inches worth of brick structure explode into dust with the black crackle of your alchemy, and you gather the motes into to shadowy humanoid figures, which stand by your side.

Beside you, Ed also claps his hands, grabbing onto the spear that stands beside him, transmuting it into a spiked mace. He points it at the man, and you know that there’s a cartoon version of his head at the end.

The older alchemist gasps. “No transmutation circles!”

“Oh, wipe the drool off your chin, will you?” you growl at him. Then, in one swift motion, you, Ed, and your two shadowy companions lunge at the man. You pull a little bit of dust off of each of your creations and solidify them, leaving yourself with two small daggers, one in each hand.

Once the older man is sufficiently distracted, Ed shouts out, “Al! Do it now!” The man startles and just has time to fling himself to the ground as Al sends a hard punch to where his head was a moment ago.

Ed dashes over and swings his mace over his head, bringing it down to meet the man’s groin. Unfortunately, the ex-State Alchemist blocks the blow with his metal gauntlets.

After a brief struggle of wills, the man manages to shove the metal mace away from himself—just as one of your steel-toe boots collides with his skull.

The light leaves his eyes for a moment and he falls back down onto the concrete. You lean down carefully, the man still knocked out, and grab him by the shirt front with your dominant left hand. You begin to haul his worthless ass up from the ground, and suddenly the man springs to life, blasting your arm with a bout of boiling alchemy. The sleeve of your black jacket explodes in a fury, and you’re sent flying backward with the force of it.

Of course, your arm is just fine.

This obviously surprises the rogue alchemist, who chokes out an exclamation of disbelief as Al tries to clock him over the head with both fists. The man blocks the blow with his gauntlets again, flipping Al over his shoulder with some effort. As the man is off balance, Ed catapults over his brother, attempting to punch his opponent in the face. At the last second, the man’s arm shoots up and he blasts the limb with boiling force.

“No!” he shouts. “I had you! The both of you! I don’t understand! Any water there should have boiled!”

You shoot him a one-eyed glare. “You ruined my coat,” you sneer, letting your metal arm glint in the dim light of the alley. "It was brand new, you jerk!”

The man’s eyes are like saucers. “An automail arm!” he gasps.

You and Ed rise to your feet, and Al appears behind you both. You shrug the tattered remains of your jacket off your shoulders, and Ed yanks off the remains of his own with a flourish.

The ex-alchemist’s eyes narrow. “Two gifted young alchemists,” he says slowly, his eyes raking over your and Ed’s arms. “Who don’t use transmutation circles... with automail arms and a missing eye...” the man glares. “I know you two,” he snaps. “You are the Fullmetal and Smokebomb Alchemists! Edward Elric and Echo Slade!” Then he pauses and looks confused. “You’re the two infamous alchemist? But you’re runts!”

“OH YEAH?! WELL CAN A RUNT DO THIS?!” Ed screams in rage. At the exact same time, you scream, “OH, I’LL SHOW YOU WHO THE RUNT IS, YOU DICK!” Together, the two of you clap your hands.

Ed traps the man in a stone box so tight that he can’t move at all, and only his face is sticking out. At the same time, you put a swirling mist of black dust right in front of his eyes, rendering him temporarily blind to all but that said mist.

“I’ve heard the stories,” the man says in a muffled voice, “but I never imagined this! The Fullmetal and Smokebomb Alchemists are just little kids?!”

“DON’T CALL ME LITTLE!!!”

The man goes flying as he’s hit by a stone pillar and tangible shadows.

“...You know guys,” Al says slowly, taking in Ed’s furrowed brow and your anime vein, “I don’t think he was talking about your height just now...”

“...IT DOESN’T MATTER!!!”

※※※

The young man beams at you and Al happily. “So you’re the ones we’ve been hearing stories about!” he chirps. “The Fullmetal and Smokebomb Alchemists! You’re as good as they say,” the man praises you and Al. “Thanks for the help.”

You have to bite your lip to suppress your laughter as Ed comes strolling into the alley, having repaired his jacket with alchemy. “Come on, let’s get going, guys!” he encourages, beginning to walk away. “We got a train to catch!”

You hear the sound of a body hitting the pavement and you turn just in time to see the handcuffed Freezing Alchemist on the ground, grinning madly, before there is a blast of steam so massive that it encompasses the entire alley. You flinch and put your arms up to block your face.

“What is that?” Ed coughs. “Steam?”

“Brother!” Al exclaims. “Echo! He’s gone!”

“That motherfucker,” you say blandly.

※※※

“Looks like you underestimated your opponent,” Mustang says smoothly.

You’re with Ed on the small couch. His arms are draped over the back of it, and he’s glaring at the Colonel in irritation. Meanwhile, you are lying on your back, your head in Ed’s lap, long legs draped over one of the couch’s arms.

You roll your eye at the man's typical smug attitude.

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Ed demands.

“You’d know that if you’d listened to the briefing like I told you to,” the Colonel says smoothly.

Damn it! Why is everything this man says so smooth?! His voice is like friggin silk, and it’s massively irritating. “But noooo,” the dark-haired man continues; “You had to go charging right in like—”

Ed scowls and puts his hands out. “Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts. “We get it, okay? I’m sorry, jeez. Okay? Whatever!”

The Colonel smirks smugly, and you shift slightly in Ed’s lap, making him glance at you. You’re a dumb ass! you mouth to him with a grin.

He leers at you and you giggle.

Mustang clears his throat to get your attention again. “Next time a superior officer tells you to pay attention,” he says smoo—nope! “...just try.”

“...Fine,” Ed grumbles, and the smug bastard’s self-satisfied smirk grin grows.

“Now then,” Roy continues. “His name is Isaac McDougal—or, as he was known back in the day, Isaac ‘The Freezer’. He’s a former State Alchemist. He served in the Ishvalan War.” The man gets up from his desk and paces over to face the wall. He puts his hands in his pockets. “During that time, he gave us no sign that he’d turned traitor.” Ed turns to watch the man over his shoulder. “But immediately after, he resigned his commission and went into hiding. He’s been working with the anti-establishment group ever since.” He glances at Ed over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing. “Taking him into custody is a matter of top priority. Whether it’s dead or alive, that’s up to him.”

You sit up and stare Mustang dead in the eye, your brows furrowed and eye narrowed. “We’re not killing anyone,” you tell him, your icy tone implying that you will not warrant any further discussion on the subject.

“Then that’s your choice,” Mustang continues, unfazed by your sudden change in attitude. “Your orders are simply to help us contain him.”

After a short pause, Mustang grins, and the tension in the air dissolves. Ed’s glare lessens and you rest your head back on his lap. “Unrelated,” the Colonel says, “have you found any leads for getting your bodies back to normal?”

Ed starts and then glares at the smirking Colonel, shooting the man a withering glare. “Well maybe if you ever gave us time to look!!!” he yells.

Suddenly, the door is kicked open, and you jump about eight feet in the air as a loud, fast-moving man bursts into the room. “Roy!” he cheers. “How goes? Heard they put you in charge of catching The Freezer, huh? One hell of a nasty assignment! But hey, great chance to earn that promotion to Central!” He notices you and the boys. “What’s this?” he exclaims. “Looks like my timing was perfect! You’re Echo and the Elric brothers, right?!”

He rushes over to you and drags you upright by your fleshy right hand, shaking it with gusto before rushing over to do the same with Al. “It’s an honor to finally get to meet the two youngest State Alchemists ever!” he gushes. “You’re a real legend around here! I’m Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes!”

Al pulls his armored hand away shyly. “Um, actually, you want Edward. I’m his younger brother, Alphonse!”

“What?!” the man exclaims, swiveling on his heel dramatically to see Ed glaring daggers at him. You have to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. “You’re the Fullmetal Alchemist?! I’m so sorry! I had no idea you’d be so—”

Ed’s deadly glare cuts him off.

“Hughes,” Mustang calls, drawing the eccentric man’s attention. “What are you doing here?” He does not sound happy. “Go home."

“Actually,” Maes says, abruptly sobering up, his voice getting serious. “I’m here on official business.” He turns to you and the boys, Ed still fuming. “You,” he says with a smile. “Kids. I understand you three don’t have a place to stay. That means you’ll have to come with me.”

Ed looks confused, as does Al (...well, as confused as you can look without a face...), and you tilt your head to one side.

Hughes’ glasses flash and he reaches inside his jacket, pulling something out quickly and pointing it at you three.

All three of you scream, and you bring your hands out to clap before you realize that it’s just a picture of a young woman and a little girl.

He lets the three of you study the picture for a moment before lowering it. He has the weirdest expression on his face, one that you have no idea how to even begin to describe. “My wife Gracia and my daughter Elicia would love to have you!” he squeals.

You and Ed glance at each other, both with wide eyes and matching expressions of something between fear, confusion, and amusement. Simultaneously, you blink twice.

“...Okay?”

※※※

(Outside POV)

After you, Ed, and Al leave with Maes Hughes, Mustang strides back over to his desk, sliding into the chair and gazing at the door over his interlaced fingers.

“Sir,” Riza tells him, “you need to return to your paperwork.”

Mustang all but ignores her, his eyes still fixed on the door. “I can't stand those two,” he says smoothly, voice tinged with fondness despite his words.

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "They really are quite something, Sir."

※※※

(Second Person POV)

The green-eyed little girl blinks up at the two teenagers and the suit of armor standing in front of her door; she looks unsure of how to react. Then suddenly, she is being tackled into a hug by her father, and she starts to giggle. He rubs his cheek against hers while squealing some greeting involving the word Princess.

She giggles helplessly. “Ow!” she squeals. “Daddy, your beard is itchy!”

After a few moments (or minutes), Hughes releases his daughter. “Look Elicia! We have guests! This is Echo and the Elric brothers!”

The little girl tips her head to one side. “Big brother,” she states, pointing at Al; “Little brother.” Ed.

It takes everything you have in you not to burst out laughing as Ed tries his hardest not to flip out on the little girl. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a strained voice, further inciting your laughter—to the point where you’re shaking silently—as his eyebrows twitch. “My name is Edward Elric. This is my younger brother, Alphonse Elric. You hear that? Younger. Brother.”

“But younger means little,” Elicia informs him and a strangled giggle escapes your throat as Ed fixes her with a (mostly unnoticed) death glare. “And you’re little!”

You and Ed explode at the same time, but in entirely different ways. Steam pours out of his nose as his face turns red. He raises a shaking fist and growls low in his throat.

You, on the other hand, laugh so hard that it actually hurts, and not just because of the way you fall backward onto the floor, clutching your stomach, tears leaking out of your one eye.

Al, Gracia, Hughes, and Elicia just watch the two of you go nuts in silence, confused, worried, amused, and a bit afraid.

“STOP LAUGHING AT ME!!!!!!”

※※※

Both Ed’s and your eye(s) grow huge and sparkly when you see the array of food spread out on the table. A small whimper of joy escapes your mouth, no matter how hard you try to withhold it. You swear that lasagna by Ed’s elbow is sparkling. Sparkling, god damn it!

“Okay, eat up!”

“Oh my god, yes!” you agree eagerly, brandishing your cutlery in anticipation. Your mouth is watering.

Hughes watches in something close to amazement as half the food on the table disappears almost immediately, consumed by the two of you alone. And there was enough food on the table to feed all of Resembool.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding!” Ed groans.

You nod fervently. “This is great!!”

“Don’t be shy,” Gracia encourages you both. “Eat all you want!”

Your eye widens in pitiful amazement. “...Really?” you beg.

Gracia laughs, feeling something like a goddess. “Of course!” she encourages. “It’s great to see you eat! The both of you, you’re so skinny!”

“M’tabo’i’um.” You try to speak around a mouthful of food, then flush slightly, swallowing and wiping your mouth. “Sorry. Metabolism. The both of us, it runs way too fast. Our bodies can’t keep up with the calories.”

Speaking of bodies...

“Al,” Hughes chastises lightly, “how are you going to eat wearing that armor? Take it off! Relax!”

Al stiffens immediately, and Ed freezes with a forkful of food at his lips. You simply continue eating normally and kicking Ed’s flesh leg under the table. Hard. Be normal, dumb ass!

“He can’t,” you grin. “Poor kid has to wear that damn thing all the time. Part of his alchemy training.” A hint of fear passes through you as you say, “Teacher’s really strict.”

Ed and Al’s simultaneous shudders are convincing enough for the family of three. They smile at Al sympathetically and go back to eating.

You let out a long, quiet breath of relief. That was close. Way, way, way too close. And god knows that Ed and Al can’t lie to save their lives.

Thank god you’ve nearly perfected the art, or else you three would have been in big trouble a thousand times over.

※※※

You can’t sleep.

None of you can.

Al can’t sleep because... well, he really can’t sleep. Like, at all. Ever.

Ed... you never really know with Ed.

And you can’t sleep because you won’t let yourself.

Late at night, your brain works in a different way. Your thoughts come in clearer and more honest at night. And night is the only time when you allow yourself to try to make sense of everything you saw of the Truth.

You stare up at the ceiling contemplatively, toying with a few strands of your red hair absent-mindedly.

“Echo,” Al says softly. “Brother. Are you awake?” When you and Ed look over at him, he says, “Miss Grace’s quiche sure looked a lot like Mom’s, huh?”

You smile fondly at the memory. You haven't thought about Mom’s quiche in years, but you and the boys used to live for the stuff, begging her to make it all the time. She would just laugh and ruffle your heads, saying not today.

After a while, you had come to realize that the reason Trisha only made the dish for special occasions was because the ingredients weren't cheap, and money was pretty tight after Hohenheim disappeared. She would only splurge for a special occasion.

You’d never told the boys.

“Yeah,” you say, a little sad. “Almost as good, too.”

Al seems surprised. “Really? Well in that case, I’m definitely adding it to the list of things I’m gonna eat when I get my body back.”

Your chest aches in guilty sympathy, and you scratch absently at your thigh.

“Right!” Ed smiles. “Put it on there, right near the top.”

There is a short pause. “Guys?” Al says softly. “...I sure would like to get our real bodies back soon.”

“I know,” Ed replies, just as quiet. “Me too.”

You say nothing, and scratch a little harder.

※※※

You, Ed, and Al stare down at the steaming, blistered body slumped against the wall. His skin is red and bumpy—the man had been boiled alive.

You want to throw up.

Somebody behind you is calling for a medic, but it’s too late for that. The man is already gone. “Report to Headquarters, five men dead!”

Five men. Five men were killed by that man, Isaac McDougal.

This is getting out of hand; he needs to be stopped. He deserves to pay for what he did.

“Let’s hurry,” Ed says, mirroring your thoughts. “We have to find him before he gets anyone else.”

You begin searching the city, and an explosion sounds behind you. You gasp and the three of you whirl around, running to the explosion, rather than the logical choice of away from it.

“Mister Armstrong!” you shout to the massively muscular man as the three of you come sprinting into the alley, and he grunts in acknowledgement, not turning away from the man in front of him.

Isaac growls and whirls around, flinging an open bottle of water at the three of you. He uses alchemy to make the water inside explode into a massive blast of scalding mist.

You scream and fling your hands up to protect your face. You feel the front of your body beginning to burn just as Ed yanks you into his arms, the two of you ducking behind Al, who shields you from the blast with his metal body. You hear running footsteps darting by and jerk out your leg, wincing as you feel the skin burning, tripping the man in his attempt to escape.

He stumbles briefly, but when you reach out a hand to grab him, and the scalding heat on your exposed flesh burns your skin instantly; you hiss in pain, involuntary jerking your hand back, clutching it close to your chest.

The burning mist dissipates as quickly as it came, and Ed raps his knuckles against Al’s armored chest. “Thanks for the quick save, Al.” The younger boy shouts something about McDougal getting away, and Ed presses his lips against your ear. “You okay?” he murmurs.

You feel goose bumps rise against the burnt skin of your arm. “Yeah,” you lie, forcing yourself to drop your burnt hand down at your side. “I’m fine. Come on!”

“Come then,” Armstrong orders in a deep voice, and you tip your head back to look at the giant of a man. “Follow me, young ones.”

※※※

McDougal drags the large rock fragments off the transmutation circle he’d drawn. “Yes!” he growls victoriously; “Still there.”

“Stop right there,” Ed orders the man harshly.

“We were wondering what you were doing in this alley, so we came back to check it out,” you continue coldly. “And bingo—here you are.”

McDougal lets out a small chuckle and rises to his feet.

Al steps in to block the entrance at the other side of the alley. “There’s nowhere to run this time!” he shouts.

“Clearly,” the man agrees. “But who’s running?” He raises his arms out to his sides and the chalk circle at his feet begins to glow red with alchemy. It shoots a beam of red lighting into the air.

You choke out a gasp as you take in the glowing beams of light coming from various points in the city. Ed’s red-cast eyes shine with horror, confirming your dreaded suspicion. “An alchemic reaction!” he whispers. “In this scale!”

“Impossible!” Al denies, sounding like he doesn’t even believe himself. “Unless—”

“Unless he has a Stone.” Your words are riddled with emotions that not even you can decipher.

You and Ed whirl around at the same time, matching wild grins on your faces. “A Philosopher’s Stone!” he exclaims.

Then both of you fall silent as the world begins to glow a soft blue. Ice slowly begins to crackle into existence along the walls and ground. Your and Ed’s hair begin to stir softly in the icy breeze. The cold feels like bliss against your burns. “He’s freezing all the moisture in the air,” you mutter in disbelief.

“Echo and Ed,” McDougal says coldly. He is standing before a wall of ice that glows with red at the base—from his transmutation circle at the other side, no doubt.

Al’s also on the other side.

“You’ve sworn your lives to the state of the dogs of the military. But do you really know the ones you serve, or what their true plans are?”

You glare at the man with as much ferocity as you can manage with just one eye. “You think we care?” you snarl. “It’s not our place, and it's not our problem!”

“Don’t be a fool!” McDougal shouts at you angrily. “He’ll lead you to ruin—I’m only doing what needs to be done!”

“I told you!” you shout back. “We don’t fucking care!”

Al comes flying in from the other side of the wall, engaging in combat with the Freezing Alchemist. At some point, he lands a solid hit and McDougal comes sailing backward. You and Ed have to dive to the side to avoid being struck by the airborne body.

McDougal slams into the metal railing at the bridge. “Alright!” Ed cheers. “Nice work, Al!”

“But we still have to stop his alchemy!” Al shouts.

“I know,” Ed confirms. “So where is it?” he snaps at the terrorist. “You have a Philosopher’s Stone, don’t you?”

The man grins madly. “What’re you talking about?”

You snarl and lunge forward, and for just an instant, the man actually flinches at the sight of a scrawny, four-foot-six redheaded teen jumping at him.

You dart forward, planting one foot firmly into the ground and sending the other flying out into a sharp kick between his legs.

Just before the blow lands, the McDougal catches your leg in one hand, squeezing so tightly that you can feel your skin press against the bone.

He smirks, shooting a a maniacal grin at Ed as he twists your ankle sharply. You cry out, and you see Ed snarl as he starts to rush forward. “You’re out of your league!!” he laughs hautily, shoving you away from him, sending you sprawling across the icy floor. Before anybody can react, a massive wall of water rises up behind the man, and Ed quickly pulls you to your feet.

The water freezes and McDougal grabs onto the metal railing as it begins to rise, taken up by the growing mountain of ice. You and the boys have no choice but to run as the sub-arctic wall begins to grow rapidly, charging toward you. You limp slightly, but quickly shake off the pain as adrenaline courses through your bloodstream.

“Stand back!” Armstrong orders as he charges toward the rapidly-growing glacial wall, beginning to sparkle. “And prepare to witness a bout of ARMSTRONG ALCHEMY!!!”

“He’s all yours, Major!” Ed promises as you sprint by the man.

“Witness the alchemic art passed down through the Armstrong line for generations!” He slams a mighty fist into the wall of ice, and a ripple of energy runs through it. His side of the wall explodes, but suddenly the side of it shoots out, going right through a building.

“...Well that’s unexpected...”

“What the heck are you doing?!” Ed demands, waving his fists in the air. “You’re making it worse!!!”

The ice wall rages through Central, rising and falling like waves over the tops of buildings.

“The ice walls!” you scream, pointing. “They’re merging!”

“But that would mean—!”

“If they all meet in the middle,” Ed says darkly. “—ah, damn it!” he shouts. “Central Command!”

“He’s gonna freeze it over!” all three of you shout simultaneously.

“Mister Armstrong!” you shout to the man determinedly. “Ed, Al, and I will try our best to slow this bastard down. I need you to destroy the transmutation circles!”

The large man gives a single nod. “Consider them erased,” he promises.

※※※

“Füher King Bradley,” McDougal says contemplatively. “For your cold-blooded crimes in Ishval, I condemn you to a frozen hell.”

“Not so fast!” Ed screams out, rising on a pillar made of stone. He lands on the wall of ice.

You come sailing in atop a swirling mass of semi-solidified black dust, landing gracefully by Ed’s side. Al uses another stone pillar to come flying in behind you and Ed.

McDougal presses his hands onto the moving ice wall and the top layer surges toward the three of you. “Two can play at that game!” Ed shouts, clapping his hands and slamming them down, sending his own wave of snow at the man.

Ed’s wave is far more powerful, and shatters the whole side of the wall that McDougal is standing on. The man goes flying, using alchemy to send hot water raining down on you and the boys. Soaked to the skin, red hair sticking to your face and arms, you shout in pain at the boiling liquid searing your skin further.

Isaac begins to flee, using alchemy to create icy steps for himself as he sprints high above the ground. He lands on the ice wall again, and lunges for the elder of the Elric brothers.

“Ed!” you scream, just as Al cries out, “Brother!” You jump up, aiming a roundhouse kick at McDougal’s legs, and Al yanks his brother out of the way of the homocidal alchemist's outstretched arm—thereby putting himself in the way.

“Too slow!” McDougal cackles as his hand grasps Al’s faceplate firmly. Boiling steam explodes inside the armor, the force of it knocking his helmet right off his body.

“Alphonse!” Ed shouts, still trapped in his brother’s arms.

It’s at that moment that your boot collides with the back of McDougal’s knees. Letting out a surprised grunt, his legs are swept out from under him, and his head cracks sharply against ice.

Ed and Al take this moment to spring upright, and McDougal’s eyes immediately zero in on the blood seal inside Al’s empty armor. Horror fills his gaze. “There’s no one in that,” he rasps. “It’s empty!” As Ed picks up his brother’s helmet, McDougal continues along his train of thought, which is headed in a dangerous direction. “But that can only be true if a soul was bonded to the suit of armor...” He flinches as he puts the pieces together. His eyes narrow. “So you both lost your arms,” he says to you and Ed together. “—and you lost your eye... and this one, he lost his entire body...” A crazed grin plasters across his face. “I see. It all makes sense.” Your one-eyed warning glare is ignored by the man before you. “You fools committed the ultimate taboo!” he shouts. Something in Ed’s eyes flash dangerously. “You attempted human transmutation, didn’t you?! Alchemy’s one and only unforgivable sin!”

You hands begin to shake as you try to force the unwanted memories from your mind.

...You’re sobbing, whole body thrumming in pain, pain like nothing you’ve ever felt before... Ed is screaming, keening, a horrible, aching wail of agony, and—oh god. His leg is gone, it’s gone, and he’s clawing at the bleeding stump... the floor is flooded in red, red, red, so much red, and it’s impossible to tell where your blood ends and his begins... You stagger over to the armor, collapsing against it, intentionally knocking it over with the force of your body, the head clattering off once it hits the ground. You try to get up again, to drag it over to Ed so he can help you, but your legs just don’t work right anymore... So you crawl...

Ed’s voice, quiet with thinly-controlled fury, cuts your thoughts off immediately. “You know,” he murmurs, “there are some lines you really shouldn’t cross.”

McDougal has just a moment to be confused before Ed sprints toward him, punching him solidly in the gut with his automail fist. The man doubles over, wheezing, and Ed brings both hands together over his head, slamming them down fiercely onto the base of the man’s skull. His face crashes onto the ice and you pounce on him, kneeling on his chest and punching him in the face over and over.

After a moment, he throws you off and rolls over, only to see Al charging at him. Blood drips down from his nose and Al’s foot connects with McDougal’s jaw, and the man goes flying down from the ice wall, the three of you sliding down smoothly to meet him at the bottom.

“Give up already,” you command him fiercely, unconcerned about the blood streaming down his face and arm. “There’s no water for you to use here.”

McDougal is down, but still fighting. He smirks. “You’ve forgotten something,” he informs you. “I have all the water I need—70 percent of my body!”

Your face fills with horror as you realize what he’s saying, but too late, because a stream of pointed, solidified blood is shooting out toward you and Ed. You don’t even have time to shout a warning, to take time to think, and there is only time to act.

You shove Ed out of the way forcefully. You barely manage to raise your automail arm up in time to block your face, crying out when the remaining spikes embed themselves deep into your flesh shoulder, the force of it alone nearly knocking you off your feet.

“Echo!” Ed and Al scream simultaneously. You stagger backward, away from the penetrating spears, but they follow you. Gritting your teeth, you jerk to the side, screaming out from behind your clenched jaw as you try to move your arm. You collapse to your knees, blinking rapidly at the black spots dancing faintly at the edges of your vision.

McDougal drags himself to his feet, swaying. “Why can’t you fools understand?!” he shouts. “I’m trying to save this country!!”

His walls smash into the large building they’re aiming for, and McDougal starts to cackle as ice begins to grow on the bricks. He staggers awkwardly away as Ed and Al both drop to their knees beside you.

“Echo,” Ed calls urgently. You try to respond, to give some sort of sign of acknowledgement, but your brain is sluggish. “Echo!”

You force yourself to gather your wits. Now is not the time for weakness, you chastise yourself.

“Come on,” you grunt painfully, wrapping your hand around one of the spikes planted in your shoulder. “So help me god, this man is not getting away tonight!” You grit your teeth and tighten your grip. “I’m not dead yet!” you growl, ripping the pointed spear from your shoulder with a splatter of blood. Pain crashes through your body as you feel blood seeping down from your wound. “Not even close.”

※※※

Your head is swimming as you take in the bloody lump in the alley, covered by a grayish sheet. “Führer Bradley,” you exclaim, and one of the men turns around, his stoic face unruffled by the sight of the man on the ground. “You’re here?”

A soft smile rises to the older man’s face upon seeing you and Ed. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Job well done Smokebomb, Fullmetal. I came out to see if I can lend a hand. And to think, that I’d actually be the one to catch him! If nothing else, this should make an exciting story for my son!”

“...”

※※※

“You know,” Al says, “we never did find out whether or not he had a Philosopher’s Stone.”

You’re sitting dejectedly in a hospital bed, being treated for your shoulder and the second-degree burns covering the majority of your arm and blistering your hand. Ed is in the chair immediately next to the bed, and Al is in the one next to that.

“No,” you agree. “But, with any luck, it’ll say something in the official report.”

There is a sudden knock on the door, and you are greeted by the sight of a bouquet of red roses. One of your eyebrows lifts almost automatically and your gaze rises, rises, rises, finally coming to land on the face of Major Alex Louis Armstrong.

“Greetings, Miss Echo,” he says in a strange voice, his head sparkling above the flowers. “When I heard you were in the hospital...” his eyes snap open and he’s suddenly shouting. “...I dashed right over!!!”

You cower as his sparkles travel over to you and the boys, plinking softly into your face. Armstrong chuckles, setting the flowers down on your bedside table. “As I suspected, you’re in desperate need of my assistance.” His shirt is suddenly gone, and his massive, bare, impossibly muscular chest sparkles majestically as a scream tears its way from your throat (mixed somewhat with a giggle...?).

“You need an example of a perfect physical specimen to inspire your recovery! You see? You’re looking livelier already!!!”

“M—Mister Armstrong!!!!! I—kyaa!!”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

“God’s children would ever roam this land. Pray and thee shall be seen. Those who have lost their way, the sun god Leto shall surely...”

You roll your eye at the voice droning on and on from the radio. “So what are you guys, anyway?” the man behind the counter asks. “Street performers or something?”

Ed does a spit-take. “Seriously? Do we look like street performers to you?”

The man looks a little confused. “Well, yeah, that’s why I asked!”

Ed scowls. “Let’s go Echo, Al.”

You and Ed slide off the tall bar stools, but as Al stands up, his helmet knocks into the top of the stand, sending the man’s radio crashing to the floor, where it shatters.

“Hey!” the man shouts. “Easy! I didn’t mean nothing by it!”

You grimace. “Sorry, sir. Accident, I swear. We’ll fix it!”

“How’s that? It’s smashed to hell!”

Ed chuckles. “Watch and learn, Gramps.”

Al draws his transmutation circle around the broken radio. “Alright,” he says, conscious of the ever-growing crowd around you. “Here goes!”

There is a swirling blue light, and then the radio is back together again, the voice droning on and on as though there had never been anything wrong.

Guess we are street performers after all.

“There, see?” Ed points flashily at the repaired radio, sparkling like Mister Armstrong (only less fabulously). “How’s that?”

“Amazing!” the food-stand man murmurs. “It’s a miracle! You’ve been touched by the sun god, just like Father Cornello!”

You sweat-drop. “Touched by whom?”

“It’s no miracle,” Al explains. “It’s alchemy!”

“Oh,” someone in the crowd says. “So you three are alchemists. Yeah, I’ve heard of them!”

Ed folds his arms over his chest smugly. “Well then, maybe you’ve heard of us! This is Echo Slade, and we’re the Elric brothers!”

The man behind the counter taps his chin thoughtfully. “Echo and the Elric brothers, you say?” he repeats. “Wait, I do know those names! The Smokebomb Alchemist, and her buddy Fullmetal, is that right?”

You flick your thumb under your nose proudly, watching Ed as the crowd surges around you and Al. He is smirking smugly, not noticing the fact that the recognition is not being given to him, but rather to you and his brother.

“No, um, it’s not me!” Al says hurriedly.

The whole crowd stops and looks at Ed. “What?” one man calls out. “You mean it’s the little guy?”

“WHO’S LITTLE?!?! SAY IT TO MY FACE, I DARE YA!!!!”

※※※

“So, what’s with this dude on the radio?” you question after having calmed Ed down.

The man who works at the food stand is still dazed. “T-that’s our leader, Father Cornello.”

“...there is light,” Cornello drones on. “When in darkness, turn thy face unto...”

“When Cornello came to town,” one of the townsfolk explains, “he started teaching us the ways about the sun god, Leto.”

“He grants eternal life to those that are faithful.”

“He can resurrect the dead.”

“His miracles are proof that what he says is true!”

You and Ed exchange meaningful glances. “So this guy is claiming he can bring the dead back to life?” he asks.

“Well then,” you continue. “That’s something I’ve just gotta see.”

※※※

The crowd cheers enthusiastically, roaring their approval and adoration of the man on stage, who waves magnanimously down at his worshippers. Small pink flowers rain down on the crowd, and the man catches one in his hand. He closes the pink petals in both hands, and there is a flash of red light from between his palms. When the light fades, standing before Father Cornello is a large, crystalline flower structure.

“So that’s it, huh?” Ed says doubtfully, glancing at it. “What do you think?”

“There’s nothing to think,” you state. “That’s alchemy.”

“But he’s ignoring the law of Equivalent Exchange!” Al murmurs. “He should have only been able to transmute that flower into something of equal mass!”

“He’s changing organic matter into inorganic matter,” Ed continues thoughtfully. “He shouldn’t be able to do that. Unless...”

“Yeah, there’s just one way,” you declare, your eyes zeroing in on the ring the man wears. “Bingo.”

※※※

“O merciful God,” the young woman pleads to the statue above her. “Please hear my prayers. I beg of thee, please bring him back...”

“So this is the mighty sun god Leto,” you declare. The woman starts and turns around to face you. Her purple eyes appraise you from beneath her pink bangs. Her black hair cascades down her back, and her long, simple white dress hides her body. “Welcome,” she greets softly. “Are you interested in Letoism?”

“Nope,” Ed says casually. “Can’t say I am.”

“We’re not really the religious type,” you inform her.

“Well,” the girl says, bowing her head with a small smile. “I'm sorry to hear that. To know God is... to know hope. If we believe in divine grace, then through him, all things are possible. If you two believed—” The woman turns her intense gaze on you and Ed, and she brings up a fist. She sparkles with sincerity. “If you two believed, I’m sure Leto would bless you and make you grow taller!!!”

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!?!”

“Hey, calm down, guys!” Al gushes. “I’m sure she’s just trying to help!”

You huff, irritated, and throw yourself down on one of the benches. Ed sits next to you. “What about bringing the dead back to life?” he questions the woman. “Do you believe that’s possible, too?”

“Yes,” she breathes immediately. You can’t help but to admire her devotion, even if you don’t share it.

Ed sighs and reaches into the pocket of his long red coat, pulling out a small black journal. “Water, 35 liters,” he rattles off hollowly. “Carbon, 20 kilograms.” You jerk—why does he still have that? He carries it with him all the time? “Ammonia, 4 liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. And various other trace elements.”

The woman looks utterly lost. Her eyes are glazed over and everything.

Ed claps the book shut loudly and bends over, resting his elbows on his knees. “That list represents the total chemical makeup of the human body for the average adult,” he tells her. “It’s been calculated down to the last microgram, but there’s still never been a reported success at creating human life. And you’re telling me something that modern science can’t do, you can do with prayer?”

“Put thy voice to God!” the woman urges him passionately. “And the prayers of the faithful shall be answered!”

Ed stretches lazily. “Did I mention all those ingredients I read off—well, down at the market, a kid could buy every one of them for the spare change in his pocket!” He aims a mirthful smirk at the ceiling. “As it turns out, humans are pretty cheap.”

“No, that’s blasphemy,” the woman replies shakily. “People, we are all children of God! Created in his image!”

Ed chuckles darkly. “You have to understand: alchemists are master scientists. We don’t believe in improvable concepts like creators or gods. We observe the physical laws that govern our world, to try to learn the truth. It’s ironic, really! Through the application of science, we have been given the power, in many ways, to play god ourselves!”

“So you’re putting yourself on the same level as God?!” the woman says hotly. “That’s just—sheer arrogance!!”

“You know, there’s an old myth,” Ed informs her. “About a hero who flew on wings made of wax. He thought he could touch the sun, but when he got too close, his wings melted and he came crashing back down to Earth. Right Echo? Al?”

“Ed, stop it,” you hiss at him. “You’re being cruel.”

Ed makes a face before springing up to his feet. “I’m sorry, Miss,” he apologizes. “This is difficult for me to ask you, but do you think your Father Cornello could even save an arrogant scientist like me?” He gives a mocking bow.

“Of course, that’s wonderful!” the woman cheers, clasping her hands together. “If anyone can lead you to the creator’s light, he can!”

※※※

“You should hurry,” the man tells you and the brothers, leading you to a large metal door. “Father Cornello is a busy man, as you can imagine. But you’re in luck,” he says, opening the door and allowing you to step through to the other side. “He’s decided to spare a moment to talk with you.”

“Yeah, thanks, we understand,” Ed babbles upon seeing the massive, eerie, torch-lit room. “We won't take too much of his time.”

“Good,” the man says ominously. “Then it’s agreed. We’ll make this quick.”

The doors slam shut behind you, and you look over your shoulder worriedly. You hear a click and whirl around so fast you get whiplash. The man who lead you here is pointing a gun at Al. In the same moment, two spears slam down in front of you, crossed over each other, blocking any forward movement. A glance to the side shows Ed in the same position.

“Brother Krei!” the woman—whom you now know as Rose—gasps. “What is this? What are you doing?!”

“Rose, these heathens have come to ensnare and discredit the Father,” he tells her. “They’re evil; this is God’s will.”

“Brother Krei...”

“Well, like you said,” Ed growls; “Let’s make this quick!” He kicks the spears out of his way and flips one of the men over his shoulder. You leap into action, whirling and landing a roundhouse kick at one of your guards’ stomach. He doubles over with a wheeze and you grab the back of his head, bringing his face down to meet your knee. He collapses, unconscious. The other guard lunges at you, and you dart to the side at the last moment. As he stumbles past you, you leap into the air and land a drop-kick on his back. He lands hard on the stone floor, groaning in pain.

You whirl around to help Ed, but he’s already gotten it taken care of. “Oh yeah!” he cheers, looking at the fallen man a few feet away, two large bumps already forming on his head. “Double strike!”

“What’s this commotion?” a somewhat-familiar voice calls out. You all turn to see a broad, bald old man stepping out of the shadows.

Father Cornello.

“Ah,” he says with a smile. “The Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists. Welcome to the home of our sacred order.”

Rose’s fearful gaze turns into one of joy at the sight of the man. “Father Cornello!”

“I must apologize for my disciples’ behavior,” the priest tells you. “It would seem they’ve been misguided.”

“Thanks,” you snap sarcastically. “We’ll pretend I don’t believe you were the one guiding them. What happens now?”

“Have you come to learn the ways of Leto?”

“Well, there are a few things we’re curious about. Like how you’ve been using sub-par alchemy to deceive your followers.” You feel Rose’s shocked glance landing on you, but you ignore her.

“My dear girl,” Cornello says dismissively, “I don’t know what you mean! What you’re doubting I see as alchemy are miracles of the sun god, Leto.” He brings his hands together and parts them slowly. There is a beam of red light, and then in his palm rests a statue of Leto. “There, you see? Could alchemy create something out of nothing such as this?”

Rose looks amazed, but torn yet again as Ed counters his argument. “Yeah, that’s what we didn’t get at first. How can you perform alchemy that ignores the laws of Equivalent Exchange?” he asks rhetorically.

“As I said!” Cornello shouts, setting down the statue. “Because it isn't alchemy!”

“But then we started thinking about it,” you continue, as if Cornello hadn’t spoken at all. “If you had somehow managed to get your hands on a certain object designed to amplify alchemy... one that supposedly makes the impossible possible...” You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “That would explain everything.”

“What?”

“We’re talking about the philosopher’s stone,” Ed hisses. “Your ring! That’s it, isn’t it? We’ve been looking for that.”

“Come now,” Cornello scoffs. “The ring is just a ring. I am God’s humble servant; it is from he alone that I derive my power!”

You click your tongue at the man as you and Ed begin striding toward him. “You’re still trying to sell us that garbage?” you ask. “Give it up, Cornello! We’ve got you all figured out!” You shrug casually. “Well, that’s too bad. If that’s the way you wanna play it, I guess we’ll just have to come up there and beat the truth outta ya!”

“My,” Cornello growls. “You are quite the incorrigible heathens, aren’t you? Rose, dear.”

“Yes, Father?”

The Father smiles. “That gun there beside you. Pick it up.”

“Uh...” Rose hesitates. “O-okay...” She leans down and reluctantly picks up the weapon.

“Now, child,” Cornello continues. “I want you to shoot the Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists.”

You and Ed glance at each other sharply. “No, I—!” Rose gasps. “Father, I can’t do that!”

“I am the sun god’s chosen emissary. My word is the word of Leto himself.” A shadow crosses the man’s face as he cracks one eye open. “Shoot them, Rose. It’s God’s will.”

Rose shudders violently as she brings the gun up slowly. You and Ed stare the girl straight in the eyes.

“Why hesitate?” Cornello encourages. “When you lost your fiancée to that tragic accident...” Rose’s head shoots up, and there is pain in her eyes. “...who was it that saved you from the very depths of despair? Have you forgotten?”

Rose shakes violently. “I-it was you, Father.”

“That’s right,” Cornello praises. “It was I who took you by the hand and led you to God’s light! And do you recall what it was that I promised you then?”

“You said if I had faith you’d bring him back to life!” Rose points the gun at Al with shaking hands.

“No, wait!” he shouts. “It’s not me, honest!”

Rose lowers the gun and turns her awed gaze onto Ed who's fuming, despite the serious situation. “I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist!” he shouts. “Not him! It’s me!!”

Cornello jerks in surprise. “Wait, what?! You’re kidding!!”

Rose aims the gun and Ed, who stares her in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she stammers, “b-but I have to do this! I don’t have any choice!”

“He’s lying to you, Rose!” you shout at the girl.

“You’re wrong!” she yells back. “I’ve seen his miracles! Father Cornello will bring him back to life—I have faith!”

You open your mouth to argue again, but Ed’s voice cuts you off. “Fine,” he growls. “Then shoot.”

Rose’s eyes grow even wider, and she slowly brings the gun in toward her chest in shock.

“Ed,” you growl at the boy. “Really?! This is so not the time!!!”

But there is a sudden exclamation and then a deafening BANG. You let out a scream, heart pumping so hard that you’re sure that it will explode, and then Al’s helmet flies off his shoulders. The boy lets out a shout and tumbles backward.

“Al!”

Rose looks scarred. She drops the gun to one side and brings her hands to her face, letting out a strangled scream.

“Good,” Cornello praises dully. “God Leto is pleased; you have done well, my child. Now: pick up the gun and shoot the other two.”

The still-headless Al sits up. “Haven’t you made her do enough already?”

“B-but, your head,” Rose stammers. “I t-thought—?!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ed says blankly, holding Al’s helmet. “He’s pretty solid.” He raps his knuckles against Al’s armored chest.

“Or pretty hollow,” you mutter.

“Yeah, see?” Al says, hoping to reassure the girl. He leans down, showing her the empty armor. “No harm done!”

Rose clamps a hand over her mouth in terror. “An empty suit of armor that walks and speaks?” Cornello interjects. “Do you still doubt it, Rose? This unholy thing is an abomination! Evil of this kind must be purged!” He flips a switch on the wall behind him. “And I believe my chimera should be up to the task.”

Ed stands with his hands in his pockets. “So this is the kind of thing you do with a Philosopher’s Stone,” he comments, gazing at the creature. It has the front of a lion, the rear of a... dinosaur? (maybe?) and the tail of a lizard.

“That’s just sick,” you spit. “This... now, this is an abomination.”

“Anyway,” Ed sighs, clapping his hands together and stepping forward lazily. “Looks like I’ll need a weapon.” Cornello watches, deadpan, as Ed pulls his long spear from the ground. You repeat the motion and pull a few inches of ground up, exploding them into a particularly shimmery black dust, forming them into a single humanoid figure.

“No transmutation circles?!” Cornello splutters. “So the State Alchemist title isn't just for show! You truly are gifted! However...” Ed swings his spear at the beast. The lion’s front paw slices through the weapon like warm butter, lashing out against Ed’s leg, snagging against his leather pants and a good half of his long coat. “...your little spear is no match for chimera claws that tear through iron!” Cornello finishes gleefully.

Ed chuckles. “You shredded my pants!”

The chimera’s claws shatter. The creature itself then goes sailing backward as Ed’s foot connects solidly with its chest. Ed pauses with his leg in the air, allowing everybody to take a good, long look at the automail limb.

“I guess your chimera’s claws don’t do so well against steel!” you taunt.

“Fight them, you stupid beast!!” Cornello roars.

The chimera comes charging in again. Your sparkly figure dances at the corner of the chimera’s vision, and it roars in anger, changing its direction and lunging at the shadow.

It passes clean through it, but the force of the attack sends the dust motes whizzing to far apart to be worth the effort of bringing it back, so you let the motes drift harmlessly to the floor.

While the creature is distracted, you come charging in from the side, fist swinging at its head.

However, you underestimate its speed, and it whips its head to the side, catching your forearm in its teeth, knocking you to the floor under its weight. It stands above you, gnawing on your left arm, and horrible screeching sound of metal-on-metal ringing in the air. “How’s that taste, kitty?” you grunt, struggling to push the heavy creature off of you.

The creature goes sailing off of you suddenly, as Ed offers you a hand up. You accept it gratefully and shrug your shredded jacket off your shoulders (again), showcasing your automail arm, before the both of you turn your angry glares on the chimera. It is lying on its back a few feet away, whimpering pitifully.

From above, you hear Cornello gasp. “Your arm! Your eye! Your leg! A boy trapped in armor!! I see!” The words are accompanied by a dark grin. “It’s all becoming clear now. You did it, didn’t you?!” Ed pulls of his torn jacket as well, and your metal arms gleam next to each other. “The one thing even the most novice alchemist knows is strictly forbidden!” You can feel Rose’s horror-struck gaze on the two of you.

“Why don’t you come down here and try us?” Ed challenges the man. “We’ll show you real quick who the novice is!”

“Rose,” Cornello calls. The girl flinches, turning her attention on the Father. “This is the price of their sins. These fools attempted human transmutation! The greatest taboo for any alchemist! In their arrogance, they tried to bring someone from the dead back to life!” he explains, evidently forgetting that this is exactly what he’d promised the girl.

“This is what happens when you try to play God, Rose,” you tell the girl, not looking at her. You brandish your metal arm. “God, or whatever the hell you want to call it. Take a good look, Rose. Is this really what you want?”

Cornello laughs from above. “So these are the great Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists, Echo Slade and Edward Elric. Not even half a person—not even half a child!”

“And what are you?!” Ed snarls up at the man. “You’re just a phony that can't even do anything without a Philosopher’s Stone!”

“Cornello,” Al says, holding out a hand, speaking for the first time in several minutes. “We just want you to hand over the stone before anyone gets hurt.”

“Don’t be absurd!” Cornello scoffs. “Why? So you can use it for yourself? Please. If you fools are really so eager to play God—” The stone in his ring begins to glow, and an eerie red light starts to surround the man. “—perhaps I should send you to meet him, instead!”

Cornello transmutes his arm into a machine gun, and begins firing at the four of you. A cloud of black dust rises up around you and he ceases fire, seemingly confused.

When the dust drops, there is a stone wall shielding you and the others courtesy of Ed. “Yeah,” you say nonchalantly, “but the problem with that is that God and I? Well, we don’t get along all that well. So, thanks for the offer and all, but I'm gonna have to say ‘no thanks’.”

“And even if we went,” Ed pipes in, “they’d probably just send us right back here!”

Al scoops Rose up into his arms and takes off running. Cornello starts shooting at them, but Al carefully blocks Rose with his body.

“Come on, this way!” Ed shouts, clapping his hands together and slamming them against the wall and creating a door. The four of you burst out of the door and scare the life out of some people waiting at the other side.

You sprint off down the hallway.

※※※

You lounge against the wooden desk, hanging your head upside-down off the edge. Your hair is so long that a good few inches of the bottom lay on the floor. Ed sits perched on the wooden surface, legs crossed.

“God, what’s taking him so long?” you complain. “I’m bored! We’ve been waiting here for half an hour!”

“This guy isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean. He—”

Ed is cut off by the sound of running footsteps. Cornello dashes past the open door and then stops, coming back around. “There you are, you infernal brats!” he shouts.

“Look, can we just cut the crap and talk here? All we want are some straight answers about the stone.” Ed makes a weird face. “Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll be on our way!”

“Of course,” you chime in, “if you’d prefer, we could always get the military involved...”

Cornello growls, glancing around to see if anyone’s listening. He shuts the door behind him. “Ask your questions.”

Ed grins. “You could do anything with a Philosopher’s Stone, right? So why waste all that power performing phony miracles?”

“Because with each miracle, I can attract new believers to the order; believers that would lay down their lives for my sake. I’m slowly building an army—a legion of holy warriors, unafraid to die! In a few years, I’ll be ready to unleash the spineless horde upon the world!” The man’s eyes glow from the shadow that crosses his face. “And I'll use the Philosopher’s Stone to tear this country apart! Who knows—I might even carve out a slice for you!” The man begins to cackle madly, and then is startled by the two of you bursting out laughing too. “Wait, what’re you two laughing about?”

You wipe a tear from your eye. “I knew it,” you chuckle. “You really are a novice, aren’t you?” You start laughing again as Ed holds up the ON/OFF switch, flipped to ON.

Cornello takes in the switch, then the microphone at his feet, and then his jaw drops. “You don’t mean that—how long?! How long has that thing been on?!?!”

“From the start,” Ed says mirthfully. “Your ‘believers’ heard every word!”

“How could you?!?!?!” Cornello screams. “You’ll pay dearly for this!”

“Sorry!” you shout, clapping your hands and using alchemy to send a blast of sharp dust at the man, severing the gun in half. “Just face it,” you growl. “You’re outclassed here!”

“I am without rival!” Cornello argues, trying to transmute the half a gun into... something. However, the transmutation fails, and when the red light fades, all that’s left is a blackened, shriveled arm with hunks of metal sticking out.

Ed gasps and the two of you launch yourselves to your feet. “It’s a rebound!”

“No!” Cornello roars. “I won't be disgraced like this!” His eyes begin to grow red and all the light fades from his corner of the room. “Now, children, behold the power of the true emissary of the sun god Leto!” His shoulders begin to bulge and twitch before growing massively—growing and growing and growing until he’s far bigger than even Armstrong.

There is a crash as he punches you and Ed straight through the stone wall, into the main room with the large statue of Leto. Cornello roars and aims a punch at the spot that you are standing in. However, his speed is in accordance with his size—he’s big and strong and slow, so you have time to roll out of the way.

But then, his other arm comes swinging in from the side.

“Echo!”

“My word is the divine word of God himself,” the beast that was Cornello utters. “My fist is the almighty fist of judgment!”

You struggle against the massive fist, bigger than your whole body. “Oh yeah? Fist of God, huh?” you hear Ed ask. “Well, if that’s what you want, then you can have it!” You hear him clap his hands together and then a mighty stone fist comes crashing down onto Cornello, slamming his body away from you, and down into the ground. You look up to see that the fist came from the statue’s hand. The fist of God.

Ed marches over to Cornello, who’s cowering on the floor. He plants his hands on both sides of the man’s head and brings his face up. For a wild moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss the man (a very, very, very confusing moment, to say in the least!) but then he slams his forehead against the other man’s, and tears pool in Cornello’s eyes. “Shut up!” Ed roars. “Just give us the Philosopher’s Stone!”

In the man’s ring, the red stone turns ashy grey, slipping from the holder and smashing on the ground, blowing away moments later in a swirl of dust.

“What the fuck?” you murmur, having joined Ed at his side. “The Stone is supposed to be of a perfect material!” You turn your stricken gaze on Cornello. “How the fuck did it just break like that?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Cornello pleads. “I don’t know anything about it! Spare me, please! I was wrong; please, I beg you!!”

“It’s a damn fake,” Ed mutters, rising to his feet.

“Please don’t,” Cornello blubbers. “I’m helpless without the Stone! Spare me, ple-e-ease!”

“You mean we went through all of this—risked our lives for this one possible chance... and it’s a fake?!”

“So, uh...” Cornello laughs fearfully. “What about me?”

“We don’t give a fuck what you do!” you scream at the man. “Just get the hell out of here!!!” The man squeals and scurries away on his hands and knees. “Like the rat he really is,” you mutter.

You sigh and rest your forehead against Ed’s flesh shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to keep looking,” you murmur.

He wraps his arm around you tightly and buries his face in your hair. “I guess so,” he whispers.

※※※

“And what about the Stone?” Alphonse asks eagerly.

“A fake,” Ed says bleakly.

“Just like him,” you add.

Ed presses his knuckles against Al’s metal chest. “I’m sorry, Al. For a while there, I thought we’d really found a way to get your body back.” You just hang your head, feeling equally guilty.

And suddenly, a girl’s wild voice shouts out, shattering the moment. “Give me the Philosopher’s Stone!”

The three of you turn to find Rose pointing a gun at you with shaking hands. “Rose...”

“Like I was just saying,” Ed tells her, “it was a fake. It wasn’t real. Besides, it’s shattered now.”

Rose looks desperate. “Liar!” she screams. “You want to keep it for yourselves! Don’t you?! So you can use it on your bodies! That’s right!” she continues. “And so you can try to bring your mother back again!”

Ed flinches and then his face contorts with rage. Anger surges up in you. “You shut up!” you shout at her.

She flinches.

“People don’t come back from the dead, Rose,” Ed tells her, shaking. “Not ever.” He grits his teeth. Whispering, he repeats, “Not ever.”

Slowly, Rose sinks to her knees, and then leans forward onto her elbows, bowing her forehead to the ground. “But he promised me!” she sobs. “He said if I prayed it would happen!” Tears stream down her cheeks. “That hope was all I had left! What am I supposed to believe in now?!” You and the boys walk past her. “Tell me what to do!!” she begs. “Please!!!”

You and Ed stop at the top of the stairs. “We can't tell you that,” he says quietly. “You have to figure it out.”

“Stand up and walk,” you order her. “Keep moving forward.”

“You’ve got two good legs,” Ed continues. “So use them.”

“You’re strong enough to make your own path.”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

“The receiver on this thing’s seen better days,” Fuery says in response to Hawkeye’s question. “I think I’m gonna have to replace it.”

There is a ringing sound and then a gloved hand lands on the radio, enveloping the device in blue crackling alchemy. When it fades, the radio gleams, working perfectly and better than ever.

Fuery glances to the side in surprise, only to find you, Ed, and Al next to him. Ed grins at him, having been the one to fix the radio. “Hey!” Fuery exclaims. “It’s Ed, Echo, and Alphonse!”

“Welcome back, kids,” Riza says. You all turn to her happily (you especially—Riza Hawkeye may or may not be your ultimate hero). “Go on in,” she continues; “The Colonel is waiting for you.”

Ed’s face falls.

※※※

“Well done on the Liore case, you three; good work,” Mustang compliments, watching you and the boys over his interlaced fingers. “I appreciate your resolving the matter.”

“No big deal,” Ed sighs. “It’s not like we did it for you.”

“Right,” Mustang says dryly. “The Philosopher’s Stone.” The three of you instinctually perk up at the words. “Another false lead?”

There is a moment where Ed and Mustang stare into each other’s eyes. Ed looks away first. “Yeah,” he mutters. “After all that, the stone was a fake.”

“Yet somehow,” you interrupt, “the power it gave Cornello was real enough. He transmuted this huge chimera right in front of us.”

“I still wonder how he was able to use the stone to do that,” Al says, his voice echoing slightly inside his armor. “I’m not familiar enough with the field of bio-alchemy to really understand it.”

“Yeah,” Ed agrees. “I’m kinda curious about that, too. It might be worth looking into.”

“And back down the rabbit-hole we go,” you chirp. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll find something that’ll help us restore our bodies.”

At his desk, Mustang sighs. “It might help if you consulted a specialist,” he says. You all blink and stare at him, surprised.

“The Sewing Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker,” Mustang informs you and the boys, showing you his profile. “He's done some heavy research into chimera transmutation. I’ll introduce you.”

“You would do that for us?” Al asks, shocked.

Ed leaps to his feet, pointing at Mustang with one hand and waving the other around in the air angrily. “Okay, what’s the catch?” he demands. “You want something, don’t you?!”

The Colonel slams his hands down on the desk. “Don’t doubt my motives!” he growls. “I’m trying to repay you for your work on the Liore case!” His next words are spoken with tight control. “Doing you a favor is better than being indebted to you.”

※※※

Mustang, you, and the boys are riding in the rear of the car on the way to Shou Tucker’s house.

“Two years ago,” he informs you, “Tucker transmuted a chimera that could understand human speech. That earned him his certification as a State Alchemist.”

Chills dance down your spine. “Understand human speech?” you murmur. “You don’t mean...?”

“You mean it talks?” Ed exclaims. “A chimera?!”

“Right,” the Colonel replies quietly. “Supposedly, it only said one thing.”

There is a pause. “Well?” you demand. “What was it? Don’t leave us hanging!”

“‘I want to die’,” Mustang says grimly. Goose bumps rise up on the skin of your flesh arm, and you trace your fingertips over them, almost unconsciously. “After that,” he continues, “it refused to eat until it got its wish.”

※※※

Mustang rings the doorbell loudly. As you wait for Tucker to answer, you and the boys ogle at the man’s home. “Shit,” you breathe; “This house is enormous!” Ed nods his agreement, looking up to see the top of the building.

Suddenly, a huge shadow comes over him. He has no time to react before he is on the ground, pinned underneath a massive white dog.

You collapse into giggles as Al fusses over his trapped brother. “Are you okay?” the younger boy asks. “Ed?”

“Daddy!” A young girl’s voice sounds from the door. “There are people here! Look!”

“Nina,” a man chastises, coming up behind her. “This is why I told you to keep the dog tied up.”

Ed sweat-drops beneath the dog as you snicker at him.

※※※

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Tucker apologizes. “Ever since my wife ran out, this place has been a wreck. I’m not much of a housekeeper.”

He slides you and Ed each a cup of tea before sliding into his seat across the table and sipping at his own cup. “Now that we’re properly settled in, let me say what a pleasure it is to meet you Echo, Ed. As the Colonel told you, I’m the Sewing Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker.”

“These two are interested in the field of biological alchemy,” Mustang explains, gesturing to you and Ed. “They would like to have a look at your research, if possible.”

“Oh, yes, certainly,” Tucker agrees. “I don’t mind.” You and Ed glance at each other with a victorious grin. “However,” Tucker adds suddenly, “if you want me to show you the tricks I’ve got up my sleeve, it’s only fair that you show me the tricks you’ve got up yours as well. It’s the code we live by: Equivalent Exchange. Now, why are you interested in bio-alchemy?”

You open your mouth to speak, a long, extravagant story (read: lie) rapidly forming in your mind, but Ed holds up a hand to stop you.

So you stay silent as he speaks your dirty truth.

※※※

“You transmuted your mother?” Tucker asks with something close to disbelief. “As eleven-year-old children?” He examines your and Ed’s automail arms. They are slightly different, made to suit your body types, but their similarities greatly outweigh their differences. “So that’s what earned you the title of Fullmetal Alchemist,” Tucker says to Ed sympathetically. “You’ve had a rough time of it for kids so young.” You and Ed drop back into your chairs. Under the table, you place your hand reassuringly on his flesh leg, squeezing softly. Ed lets out a slight breath and places his hand on top of yours.

Tucker sighs and rises to his feet. “I can't say if it’s going to be of any use to you or not,” he says slowly, “but why don’t you go ahead and take a look at my laboratory?”

※※※

The room is a dark echo chamber, bouncing the shrieking screams of chimeras around. It sounds like some sort of hell. All around are chimeras, trapped in cages (much to your relief, honestly). Freaks, mutants, failed experiments.

The instant you step into the room, your voice shrivels up and dies in your throat. Your green eye blows wide in fear and you bring you shoulders up to your ears defensively. You stay always a step behind Ed, one hand gripping the hem of his red coat in a vice-like grip.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Tucker says apologetically. “I’m fairly widely regarded as an authority on chimeras. But the truth is, it hasn’t actually been going that well lately.”

He crosses to the back of the room and opens up a set of double doors, flicking on the lights. Inside is a library, with shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books. You dart eagerly into the room, desperate to be away from the chimeras.

“Amazing!” Ed exclaims.

“This is my library,” Tucker explains. “Feel free to look around.”

“Alright!” Ed says, sauntering over to one of the shelves. “Let’s dive in! I’ll start with this shelf!”

Al points to another. “I’ll get this one,” he offers.

You walk over to a third shelf. Clearing your voice before attempting to use it, you force a steady tone before saying, “Then this one’s mine.”

You pick a random book off the shelf and plop down on the ground, opening it up and beginning to read. Dimly, in some part of the back of your head where thoughts happen but are not processed, you hear Mustang speaking: I’m going to head back to work now. I’ll send somebody by to get you this evening.

A different voice: They’ve got some ability to focus. I'm not sure they even know we’re here anymore. Quite a catch, these three. A few prodigies.

※※※

Several hours later, you’re surrounded by a pile a books scattered around you—almost like a throne—and immersed in yet another book. However, focused as you are, it’s become impossible to ignore the throbbing ache in your back and shoulders. This is why, when you hear a young girl giggling merrily, you decide to shut the book and go see what’s happening.

Well, what’s happening is Nina sitting on Al’s broad shoulders, laughing wildly while he bounces her around. “Here’s the deal!” you announce suddenly. If Al had a face, he’d be blushing at having been caught.

“I—um, Echo! Hi!” Al rambles. “You see, the thing is, um...”

“Here’s the deal,” you repeat, cutting him off. “I won't tell Ed... if, and only if, you let me play with you!” You grin victoriously.

And this is why, not ten minutes later, does Ed come around to the sight of both you and Nina climbing around on Al’s armor. “Hey!” he shouts, startling you so bad that you fall off the armor, hitting the floor with a loud thump. You land mostly on your right elbow and hip, sending a dull flare of pain through you. You rub your aching hip and glare at him accusatorily. “You’re supposed to be reading!” he exclaims.

You puff up your cheeks at the boy. “Nina wanted to play,” you protest defensively, “and my shoulders were killing me. Give us a break, will ya?”

“Well, in case you forgot,” Ed glares, “we didn’t come here to play horsy.” Suddenly, a large, dark shadow crosses over the boy. He sweat drops and looks up to find Alexander the dog looming over him (again). With a strangled shriek, he finds himself pinned beneath the massive white dog (again).

You try to hold back your snort of laughter, and fail. Miserably.

From atop Al’s shoulders, Nina merrily chimes in with, “Alexander says he wants to play, too!”

Ed drags himself to his elbows under the dog. “That’s what you want, is it?” he grunts. He shakes the dog off and rises to his feet dramatically. “You’ve bested me twice, dog,” he growls. “Play time is over.” An anime vein pulses in his forehead as he roars at the white animal. “I will not lose this time! I, Edward Elric, will use my considerable powers to vanquish you!”

And he and the dog take off running. “You mangy mutt!”

※※※

In the library, Ed is yet again trapped below the friendly family pet. “I’m sorry,” you snort through your peals of helpless laughter. “What was that about using your considerable powers to vanquish him? How—how did that work out for you?”

“Hey chief, boss; your ride has arrived,” Havoc says, waltzing over to you, Nina, Alexander, and the boys, a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth. He leans over, peering at Ed. “What’re you doing down there, Ed?”

“Urg,” he groans. “Let’s just say I’m taking a break from a long day of research.”

“After all that,” Tucker says, “you must be dog tired.” A shadow crosses over Ed’s eyes, and Tucker chuckles. “Why don’t you three come on back tomorrow?” he suggests.

Nina claps her hands together gleefully. “Are you really going to come again?”

“We’ll come play some more tomorrow,” Al promises. “Okay Nina?”

“‘Kay!”

Outside, the four of you are trudging to the car when Havoc turns around. “Oh, Mister Tucker, I almost forgot,” he tells the man. “I’ve got a message for you; it’s from the Colonel. He says, ‘Don’t forget, assessment day is coming soon!’”

“Yes,” Tucker says flatly. “Please assure him I know.”

※※※

The next day, you and the boys are back in the library, hanging out with Nina. “Your mother left two years ago?” Al asks.

“Daddy says she went back to live at her parents’ house,” Nina confirms.

“Do you get lonely?” you ask the girl. “I mean, it’s just you and your dad, alone in this big house.”

Nina shakes her head. “Not really,” she says. “Daddy’s so nice, and plus I’ve got Alexander to play with, too!” She turns and wraps her arms around the big dog’s neck. Then she buries her face in his fur. “But lately,” she continues, a little sad, “Daddy’s been studying in his office all the time. I guess...I guess that does make me a little bit lonely.”

Ed closes his book and rises to his feet, yawning. He stretches for a moment. “Man, my shoulders are killing me,” he complains.

“Maybe you should try to move around some, Brother,” Al offers.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees, rolling his shoulders. “Not a bad idea, Al.” He points a finger at Alexander. “Hey! You mangy mutt!” he calls. Alexander jumps up with a short bark, pulling Nina up with him. She blinks at Ed. “Looks like you could use some exercise!”

You close your book with a small smile. He’s going to make a great father one day. “We should go too,” you tell the little girl.

※※※

Ed runs around the yard, screaming as Nina and Alexander, the little girl atop the dog’s mighty back, chase him around the yard. “Wait up!” she giggles.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Ed teases. He’d removed his jacket and now is in a black tank top. His automail arm glints in the sun as he claps his hands together and transmutes the end of said arm into some sort of crude excuse for a toy, chasing the girl and her dog around with its snapping jaws.

Then, as Nina gets distracted by the joy of sliding down Al’s back, Ed’s mischievous gaze turns on you, where you’re relaxing in a patch of sunlight. As soon as you feel his gaze land on you, you narrow your eye at the boy. “Oh, no,” you warn. “Don’t you dare. Don’t even think about it!” But your warnings are for naught, as a moment later, Ed begins dashing toward you. “Aw, Ed!” you shout, leaping to your feet and taking off running. “I’m gonna kill you!”

You are aware of the fact that Nina, Alphonse, and Alexander are all watching as Ed sprints after you. To be fair, you don’t make the chase easy. You jump over bushes, slide under lawn chairs, and dart around a bird feeder, but eventually he catches you anyway.

He uses his body to slam into you, knocking you down and then pouncing. You wrestle on the floor with Ed, the both of you laughing the whole time. You shove his face into the dirt, and his hand might have kinda-maybe-sorta landed in an awkward place at one point, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all lost in the thrill.

At one point, Ed almost has you beat, lying across you horizontally so your stomachs are together. However, you are nothing if not hard to pin down, so, with effort, you bend your limbs, placing your hands and feet down flat on the ground and pushing up, hard, into a bridge, throwing the boy off, and then scrambling onto your stomach immediately.

After a few minutes of writhing on the floor together, you emerge victorious, straddling Ed’s waist and pinning his hands down triumphantly. You’re both breathing hard, and your eyes are locked. Ed’s are glaring, and your single green orb is sparkling with gleeful pride and gloating.

And then, suddenly, Nina is kneeling next to the two of you. “You guys should kiss!” she squeals happily, bringing her hands together.

Instantly you choke and your face turns bright red. From the corner of your eye, you see Ed having the same reaction. Never in your life have you moved so quickly to get away from another person as you scramble off of Ed in that moment.

Once the two of you are at a safe distance, your eyes meet, and then suddenly you both burst out laughing.

※※※

“Before I earned my State Alchemist certification,” Tucker tells you and the boys in that same monotonous voice he always uses, “our life was terrible. We were so poor in those days. My wife couldn’t stand living that kind of life. So she left us.” Suddenly, you are keenly aware of Nina in the corner, petting Alexander’s fur. Tucker sighs. “I can't afford to fail this assessment. I don’t want to go back to those days again—I don’t even think I could.”

“Don’t worry Daddy,” Nina promises. “It’s okay! If those people do tell you no, me and Alexander will growl at them until they say yes!”

You and Al chuckle slightly. “You tell ‘em, Nina,” the boy encourages.

“Hey Nina,” Tucker says suddenly. “I’ve got an idea. Do you want to play with Daddy tomorrow?”

Nina turns to her father, her eyes sparkling. “Really?” When he nods, the girl throws herself at him joyfully, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Alexander!” she cheers. “Daddy says he’s going to play with us tomorrow!”

※※※

The next day, it’s dark and cloudy when you ring the Tuckers’ doorbell. There is no answer, so you pull on the door. It’s unlocked.

“Hello Mister Tucker!” Al calls. “Thanks for having us again today!”

No response.

You walk along the strangely silent halls. “Mister Tucker?” you call, an odd feeling growing in your stomach. “Nina? Hey, Nina, where are you?” Growing desperate, you shout out, “Alexander! Alexander, come!”

Still nothing.

Finally, much to your reluctance and growing sense of unease, Al pulls open the door to Tucker’s lab. The lights are off inside, and the only light is that spilled in from the open door. Said light reveals Tucker kneeling on the floor, looking at something in front of him. “Mister Tucker!” Ed says. “There you are. So you are home.”

Tucker turns his head around, his glasses gleaming, reflecting the light. “Yes,” he says in an unreadable tone that sends goose bumps rising over your whole body. “I did it, young ones,” he says with a mad grin. “I finally did it.” You shoulder the door open wider to see what he’s talking about. As it turns out, the “it” he’s referring to is a chimera sitting on the floor beside him. “A chimera that understands human speech.”

The creature has a white body, and long, stringy black hair that hangs over its face and back. Its eyes are large, white pools, edged in black like eyeliner.

Your stomach churns furiously, and you find yourself clenching your jaw—a sure sign that you’re going to throw up. As Ed and Al approach the man, you edge backward, away from this room that makes you feel so wrong inside.

Tucker leans down to the chimera, who looks up at him. “Listen to me,” he tells it. “That person over there, that’s Edward.”

‘That person,’ the chimera repeats, its voice sounding garbled, like two people talking at once. ‘Ed-ward.’ Its voice sends ice down your spine. The hair stands up on your arm and the back of your neck.

“Yes, that’s very good!” Tucker praises, stroking the creature’s head.

“That’s amazing,” Ed gasps. “It can actually talk!” He drops to his knees beside the creature, and Tucker stands up.

“Now I don’t have to worry about my state certification!” Tucker says gleefully.

‘That person... Ed-ward,’ the creature says again, tilting its head so it could look at the boy, who watches the chimera in amazement. ‘That person... Ed-ward.’

“M-mister Tucker,” you stammer, backing further out the door. “I—um, do you know where Nina is? I think that I, uh, should go see how she’s doing. Um...”

‘That person... Ed-ward.’ The chimera’s face changes. ‘Big brother Ed...’

Your and Ed’s face twist at the same time, and you can't help but gag as the realization hits you. You gaze more closely at the creature and know that you’re right. Your eyes are wide like saucers, and your stomach spasms.

“Mister Tucker,” Ed whispers. “When did you first get your state certification?”

“Let’s see... It was two years ago.”

“And when did your wife leave you?”

“...That was two years ago, too.”

“And where the fuck are Nina and Alexander?!” you scream from the doorway, fighting against your roiling stomach.

Tucker’s face twists into a sneer. “Damn brats, figuring it out so quickly!”

You lunge at Tucker, grabbing him by the collar and flinging him to the floor. “Of course we figured it out!” you snarl. “Did you really fucking think we wouldn’t?! You did it again!! Two years ago, it was your wife! This time you used your fucking daughter and her dog to transmute a talking chimera!!!” Tucker tries to rise to his feet, so you gift him with a sharp kick to the ribs. Over the pounding of your heart in your ears, you think you hear a crack. “You can only do so much with animals, after all,” you growl as he collapses back to the floor with a wheeze. “It’s much easier when you start with a human, isn't that right?!?!”

“I don’t see what your so upset about,” Tucker moans, holding his ribs. “This is how we progress. Human experimentation is a necessary step! I would think a scientist would understand—!”

“Shut the fuck up!” you scream. This time, your foot connects with his face. When you pull your boot away, his nose is crooked and blood is gushing out. “Did you really fucking think you would get away with this? That I would let you get away with this?! Messing around with somebody’s life like that?! She was your daughter!! Your own flesh and fucking blood!”

“Messing with someone’s life you say?!” Tucker shouts back, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He laughs madly. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?! Look at your face! Your arm! Look at Ed! His brother! Those things are all the result of messing around with somebody’s life!”

You’re aware of the tears streaming down your cheek—yes, your singular cheek, because you can't cry without an eye, now can you? “Fuck you!” you scream. Your foot hits his face again. More blood comes spilling out. The skin on your thighs is itching madly, the buzzing sting clouding your head even further.

Tucker laughs madly, loudly, hysterically. His broken glasses are somewhere on the floor. “We are the same!” he roars. “We're the same! You’re just like me!”

“No!”

“Oh, but yes we are! The opportunity was right in front of us! And we took it! We had to even though we knew it was against the rules!!”

Your skin is screaming, and then you lose it. What memories you have of the next few moments are hazy. You remember throwing your head back and screaming, screaming at the top of your lungs, a howl of rage and pain. You remember clapping your hands together and slamming them onto Tucker’s body. You remember black, crackling alchemy, you remember blood. Lots and lots of blood, coating your hands, soaking your knees.

You remember sobbing, and Ed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, pinning your arms to your chest. You remember him lifting you up, carrying you away. You remember flailing, fighting him, screaming, begging, crying.

And you remember blood.

“Echo!” Ed is yelling in your ear, but you almost can't hear him at all. “Echo! Echo, stop it! You’re going to kill him!”

“Good!” you scream. “Let me go! Let go! Let me kill him! He deserves to die! He needs to pay for what he did!”

Something soft and wet touches your bare flesh arm, and suddenly you freeze, everything becoming clear again. Your vision focuses and you look to the side to see the chimera—to see Nina—pressing her muzzle against your arm. ‘Ek-o, no,’ she rasps. ‘Big sis, stop it.’

You go limp in Ed’s arms, and he almost falls over at your sudden dead weight. You start to shake uncontrollably, and suddenly Ed is your lifeline, the only thing connecting you to your sanity. You cling to him, clutching his shirt tightly in both fists, shaking silently with tears streaming down one side of your face as his arms around you squeeze you tight.

You watch Nina pad over to—oh god, that thing on the floor is... Tucker?

It is a bloody, mangled heap. In some places, it is missing skin, and red, stringy muscle and white bone are revealed. ‘Da-ddy? Do you... hurt? Daddy?’

“I killed him,” you breathe. You start to shake harder. “Oh god. I killed him. I killed him. I... I... oh god!” You try to fight your way out of Ed’s arms, to escape, so you can run away from what you’ve done, but he won't let you go.

“No,” he whispers back, his face pressed against the top of your head. “No. He’s still alive. You hear me, Echo? He’s still alive. I swear. It looks worse than it actually is. He’s alive.”

And then Tucker sits up, wiping some of the blood from his face. ‘Can we play now? Daddy? Can we play now?’

And then all you can do is press your face into Ed’s chest and cry.

※※※

“If ever there was an example of the Devil’s work in this world,” Riza says coolly, “this case would definitely be it.”

“The Devil, huh?” Roy replies doubtfully. “A State Alchemist must be willing to act. Able to take another’s life without questioning it. In some ways, Mr. Tucker’s actions and our own may not be that different when it comes to interfering with other people’s lives. We choose our own path, knowing full well what we’re doing. That’s the way it is.”

He stops beside where you, Ed, and Al are all sitting, out on the stairs in the rain. You have your knees pulled into your chest and your forehead resting on them. Tears are still streaming down your face, but they’re impossible to tell apart from the rain.

You know Mustang knows what you did. You don’t doubt that he’s either disgusted with you... or proud.

And you’re not sure which is worse.

“We’ll most likely come across cases like this again in the future,” Mustang continues. “And you may end up having to get your own hands dirty as well. Are you gonna shut down like this every time?”

“We may be called dogs of the military,” Ed murmurs, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. “We may even be cursed as devils. But it doesn’t matter. The three of us, we’re still gonna get our bodies back. We know the truth!” he whispers. “We know we’re not devils. We know we’re not gods!” Ed rises to his feet, head still bowed. “We’re human,” he whimpers. He throws his head back and lets the rain pelt his face. “We're only human!” he screams.

“And some fucking humans we are, too,” you growl bitterly, curling in on yourself further. “We can't even save one innocent little girl!” You shake your head and look up from your knees, tipping your face back and up to the sky, letting the rain droplets caress your face. “What good are we?” you whisper, fingers raking absently across your thighs.

There is still blood on your hands.

“...you may end up having to get your own hands dirty as well. Are you gonna shut down like this every time...?”

Your hands are already dirty.

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

Ed writhes on the bed, becoming tangled in his sheets. He thrashes, whimpering, mumbling nonsense in his sleep. Suddenly, he flinches so violently, he nearly falls off the bed.

With a loud gasp, he sits bolt upright. His hair is hanging loose around his shoulders, and in that instant, he looks so open, looks so... vulnerable, that you almost want to cry.

Panting, he ducks his head wearily, allowing his golden locks to hide his face. He brings his automail knee in, up to his face, curling in on himself.

You sit softly on the edge of his bed, pausing for a moment to see how he’ll react. When he doesn’t shove you back or try to run away, you slide next to him slowly, carefully placing an arm over his shoulders. He leans into you immediately, burying his face in the space where your shoulder meets your neck.

You can feel his shuddering breaths, and you trail your fingers silently through his hair.

You’re okay.

I promise.

※※※

Ed lifts his hand to rap on the wooden door, but then stops suddenly, leaving his hand hovering awkwardly in the air near it. You shoot a glance at him, but before you can say anything, Riza pulls open the door.

“What’s the matter, you three?” she asks, furrowing her brows slightly. “You’re up awfully early.”

“We...” Ed murmurs, pausing as he seems to collapse in on himself. “We need to know... what’s going to happen to Tucker and Nina.”

Hawkeye flinches at the mention of their names, and you are suddenly sure that something terrible has happened. Tears pool in the corner of your eye as Riza carefully composes herself. “Mister Tucker was scheduled to be stripped of his certification and to stand trial for what he did to Nina,” she says tonelessly. “But... they’re both dead.”

Your heart nearly stops. “Dead?”

Riza clenches her jaw briefly. “You’ll find out anyway,” she reasons, “so I might as well tell you. They’ve been murdered.”

Hawkeye starts walking away, fixing her collar as she speaks. “What?” Ed chokes out. “When? By who?”

Any other time you’d correct him. 'By whom', you’d say with a dry grin.

But not now.

“I don’t know,” Riza says. “I’m on my way over to inspect the scene now.”

“We’re coming with you,” Al states, marching after her immediately.

“No.”

Her answer is firm—one that leaves no room for question.

“And why the hell not?” you growl.

Riza stops walking. She doesn't turn around. “Because you don’t need to see this.”

The words hurt more than they should.

※※※

It’s still raining, as if the world is crying for Nina. You, Ed, and Al are all sitting on a set of cold, wet stone stairs. Your clothes are heavy and cling to your body, dragging you down like a lead weight. You pick at the jean-clad skin of your thighs, your long hair sticking to your face, shoulders, and arms. A few strands catch on a screw from your shoulder, and they are yanked from your head when you shift.

The drops pelt you mercilessly as you tip your head up, letting them run down your face. Maybe they can wipe you clean. Make you new again.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Ed mutters. “We put all our trust in alchemy, but in the end... what is it?” He sighs. “Alchemy is the science of understanding the flow of matter and its laws,” he recites in a whisper. “The process of comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction. The world flows too; it must also follow laws. Everything circulates.” Rain drips down his scraggly bangs, which hide his eyes. “Even death is a part of that circulation. It must accept the flow.”

He chuckles unhappily. “Teacher sure drilled that into our heads, didn’t she?” he remarks blandly. “I thought I understood it,” he says. His next words are a whisper, almost inaudible. “I didn’t understand anything. Mom proves that. And now here I am again, trying desperately to figure out a way to do the impossible.”

You remember Nina laughing giddily as Alexander licked her cheek. You remember her throwing her arms around the friendly beast and burrowing her face into his fur.

You shudder.

“I’m such a hopeless idiot,” Ed hisses, clenching his fists where they rest on his legs. “All this time, and I haven't grown one bit. I thought maybe the rain would wash away some of this gloom that’s been following me. But every drop that hits my face is even more depressing.”

Any other time, you would do something then. You would wrap your arms around him, keeping him safe in your embrace. You would give some sort of counter argument that proved he was wrong. Or you would hit him upside the head and tell him to quit moping like a loser.

But not now. Oh, definitely not now. No, because now, you’re trying to find a reason not to hate yourself—and coming up empty.

You scratch harder.

Al tips his armored face up to the sky. Raindrops bead on the metal surface, growing and swelling until they get too heavy to stay where they are, running down the helmet and meeting up with others. They merge together, becoming one big droplet, until they reach the base of the helmet and come falling, plunging down, and shatter hopelessly against the ground.

Al’s voice echoes inside the cold, hollow suit he’s been trapped in. “I don’t even get that much,” he whispers. His voice is steady, if quiet, but you know if they could, tears would be streaming down his face with the rain. “Without a body,” he continues, “I can't feel the rain hitting my face. That’s something I miss. All the time, wanting my body back... I want to get my body back soon, guys. I just want to be human again,” he begs. “... But if it means going against the flow and trying to do the impossible...”

You bow your head deeply, spine curving, as if you’re trying to disappear into yourself. What loose hair you have that’s not clinging to your patchwork body falls forward, encasing your face in a closed curtain. When you finally speak, your voice is raw. “I...” you rasp. “...I enjoyed it.” You don’t see it through your hair—nor would you have looked even if could see it—but the clinking of Al’s armor and the sound of a light breath from Ed tell you that both have turned to face you. You wrap your arms around yourself tightly, your automail fingers digging into your flesh arm painfully. Good, you think bitterly.

“I enjoyed it,” you repeat, unsure about how much of the self-hatred you feel escapes into your tone. “When I was...when I fought with Tucker...when I saw him bleeding, saw his blood on the floor...” You pause to take a shaky breath. “It made me feel good. It was...it was actually fun to hit him. I liked hitting him—liked that I was punishing him for his crimes. And then, when...after you pulled me away from him, and I saw him just laying there, just laying on the floor, and I thought...I thought he dead, thought I had killed him, and...and...” You swallow hard, rain dripping from your lips, shaking as you recall the pleasure you had felt. “For a second...I was happy. I was happy he was dead—that I had killed him.” You shake your head desperately, clawing at the skin of your leg until you feel blood on your fingers, seeping out through your (fortunately black) jeans. “God, I was so fucking happy...!” you trail off.

There is a few tense moments of silence, and then a man’s low voice breaks in. “You two,” it barks. “You two are the Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists, Echo and Edward, correct?”

Still trembling, you lift a hand to part your curtain of hair. You raise your one good eye up bleakly to see a dark-skinned man with white hair and sunglasses, a large X-shaped scar over his eyes and forehead. He draws back a hand before lunging to where you sit. You hear Ed and Al shouting your name.

You don’t move.

Something hard connects with you, sending you crashing to the side just as the man’s hand hits the spot you were sitting in. Lying flat on your back, you look up in surprise to see Ed hovering over you. Blinking, you snap back into reality. Looking over Ed’s shoulder, you see the man lunge again. You grab Ed’s arms out from under him, causing him to collapse against you, and then you wrap your arms around him and roll over before leaping to your feet. The man strikes the ground with enough force to crack the concrete. You clap your hands together and then slam them against the ground. With a black crackle, a cloud of thick black dust surrounds the man, impeding his vision. To keep him occupied, you formulate three figures to run through the mist, roughly the size and shape of each of you.

“What the hell is going on here?” Ed cries.

There is a faint crackle and then a stone pillar shoots out in front of you, hitting you solidly in the gut. Wheezing, you stumble back, concentration shattered. Your misty illusion falls harmlessly to the ground and, as the man steps forward with a glare, you struggle to breathe.

The man flexes his hand and paces towards you. This is bad, you think to yourself. Oooooh no. This is really bad.

Then move, you dummy! another voice yells at you, still in your head. Move now!

The voice sounds strangely like Ed.

So, still gasping for air, you manage to push yourself to your feet and take off running. Ed and Al are at your side in an instant. You dash down a long set of stairs, taking them two or three at a time.

From above, there is a loud crash. In a cloud of dust and rubble, the scarred man jumps down, landing on his feet at the bottom of the flight you’re on.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls, flexing his hand again. Blue, crackling alchemy dances around the appendage, and then the entire set of stairs collapses below you.

With a shout, you start to fall, scrabbling for a handhold. Finding nothing, you squeeze your eye shut tightly, only to be jerked painfully to a stop. Breathing hard, you look up to see Al clinging to a ledge with one hand. The other hand has Ed by one ankle, and he’s holding you up by your wrists. It’s like one of those games where you have the little monkeys in a barrel, and you have to string them together, only way more high-stakes.

Hanging precariously, you see the man calmly put one blue-sparkling hand on the wall, and then the small ledge that Al has a grip on gives out in a blast of dusty rubble.

Shrieking, you drop again, landing painfully on the stairs below before slipping and smashing the back of your head against the ground. Blinking woozily, you sit up. You hear Ed shout something at the man, and he claps his hands and hits them against the ground. Then the three of you are on a pillar and are shooting through the air. Then, somehow, the base of the pillar must have been shattered, because then you’re falling again.

When you connect with the ground, all you want to do is lie down and take a nap, or maybe throw up. Maybe both. Everything’s kinda blurry, and you can feel a warm wetness running down the back of your head. When you bring your fingers away from the spot, they’re red and shiny.

Is that blood?

Ed tugs on your hand, and he’s shouting, pulling you along, so you go with him, half-running half-stumbling down a downhill street.

“Damn it!” Ed roars, pumping his arms in an attempt to move faster. “What the hell is this guy’s problem?! Making enemies isn't something that we—!” He stops himself. “Well... we never really avoided it...” You glance over your shoulder—the man is still following, and you're seeing double. “...But there’s no reason someone should be trying to kill us!”

You take a sudden sharp turn down an alleyway, and you slam into the wall on your way in. Alchemy runs along the wall, and then there is an explosion of dust and rubble as the walls give out, blocking the exit. You drop to your knees and shield your head with your arms. When the dust fades, you glance up, only to see the man standing at the mouth of the alley.

“Who are you, anyway?!” Ed shouts. “Why are you after us?!”

The man’s voice is a low rumble. “As long as there are creators like you in the world,” he intones, “there must also be destroyers.”

Blinking blearily, you manage to mumble something about being overly-religious. You glance around, struggling to keep up. Already, the memory of sprinting here is starting to fade, and you have to fight to stay focused and alert.

“It looks like we’re going to have to fight,” Ed growls, clapping his hands together and transmuting himself a small sword. He rises to his feet, brandishing it menacingly. Al takes a defensive stance. You drag yourself to your feet, trying to ignore the way the ground is spinning beneath you, and raise your fists. You blink a few times, trying to clear your double vision.

Immediately, you see the man’s eyes hone in on you, and you curse yourself in your head. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, you remind yourself bitterly. And that’s you.

The man grins. “Gutsy one, aren’t you?” he says to Ed. “But your girlfriend over there seems a little... confused. Hit your head there, Girly?”

“Don’t call me that,” you growl, making a conscious effort not to slur. Despite the situation, despite your dizziness and nausea and throbbing skull, you still manage to blush. “And I’m not his girlfriend!”

Ed and Al dash forward, and you follow, hanging back slightly. They both lash out at the same time, but the man somehow manages to side-step between them.

“Too slow,” he murmurs before he flexes his hand and presses it against Al’s armor, and then your brother explodes. 

“Al!”

The broken armor suit lies face-down on the concrete, and your heart nearly stops. You pray to a god that you’re not even sure if you believe in. Oh, please, no, you beg. Please, please, please! I’m sorry I haven't believed in you before, I’m so sorry! Please let his blood seal be intact! Please let him still be here! Please! Just please, let him be okay!

“You bastard!” Ed screams, dashing over to the man with his sword clenched hard in both hands. He strikes out at the man, who grabs his arm and holds him by it, away from his body.

“You’re too slow!” the man taunts, before letting out another blast of his obviously destructive alchemy. Your heart stops again for a moment before all that happens is Ed being sent flying back so hard, he tumbles clean out of the alley.

 It was his right arm, you tell yourself, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat. He’s okay.

The man looks confused and surprised at how the arm didn’t explode, but he quickly turns and dashes over to you. He flexes his hand and reaches for your face, but you block with your forearm. You’re so focused on keeping the limb in place while also remaining standing as the ground bucks and heaves beneath you, that you don’t notice the next attack until it comes. His knee rises up, catching you hard in the side. Wheezing, you have no choice but to double over. He hooks his leg under the back of your knees and your legs give out, sending you crashing onto the pavement.

He leans over, his hand reaching for you, crackling. You manage to bring both your legs up and put your feet on the man’s chest, kicking him away. Yet as you attempt to rise to your feet again, you’re dragged roughly upright by your hair. The man’s other hand looms toward you again, reaching for your face, and your heart pounds, terror coursing through you. Is this it? you wonder. Is this the end?

And then, suddenly Ed is there. He roars and rips the hand away from you, dragging the man away, out of the mouth of the alley. He’s not wearing his jacket, and, like you, his metal arm gleams in the dim alley lights.

“So you have one too,” the man says thoughtfully. “An automail arm. That explains why my attacks didn’t do the damage I was expecting.” He watches as Ed claps his hands together. “...Most unusual,” he remarks.

Ed sharpens a blade onto his automail. A vague sort of plan begins to form in your hazy mind, but you're so loud and clumsy right now. You sit on the ground and struggle to unlace your boots with numb fingers.

Al rises up onto his forearms, and you breathe a sigh of relief that he's alive. He attempts to army-crawl over to Ed. “Brother!” he yells. “Don’t! Just run away!”

You get one of your boots off, and fumble with the ties on the other.

“You idiot!” Ed responds. The man, oddly enough, holds off on his attack to let the boys converse. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Al!”

“You press your hands together to make a ring and then perform transmutation,” the man mutters. “I see.”

You get your other boot off and rise slowly, your bare feet against the cold, smooth stone of the alley. You press your palms to the wall beside you and slowly begin to peel up a misty cloud. The motes swirl close to your body, deepening the shadows at the mouth of the alley, disguising your presence further.

Ed lunges at the man with a roar. He strikes out at his face, but the man grabs Ed’s arm, holding it immobile. “Then I’ll have to start by destroying this abhorrent right arm of yours!” he growls.

There is a blue flash and then an explosion of nuts, bolts, and metal shards, and Ed goes flying backward.

As Al screams for his brother, you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard to stop yourself from crying out for him. You feel blood trickle down your chin.

Not yet, you tell yourself, bare feet itching to run. Wait for the right moment.

Ed stares forward in shock, at the shrapnel from his arm, and then falls hard against the pavement. He holds himself upright with one arm. “Now you won't be able to use your heretic's alchemy,” the man growls, stepping toward Ed.

You creep forward a little, lurking in the deep shadows, pulling off yet more material from the wall for you to use. Not yet.

Ed jerks in fear and attempts to scramble back, away from the man. When he goes to shift his weight to the other arm, he finds it not there, falling into a puddle on the concrete. Your heart aches.

“I will give you a moment to pray to God,” the man growls, walking toward Ed.

The man stops when he reaches the one-armed boy crumpled at his feet. “Unfortunately,” Ed says, “there’s not any ‘God’ I’d like to pray to.” He presses his forehead against the cold stone ground and looks into the alley where you and Al are. He locks eyes with you briefly. “Am I the only one you tried to kill today?” Ed asks bitterly. “Or are you going to go after some other innocent people, too?”

The man stands over Ed coldly. “If anyone tries to interfere, I will eliminate them,” he states.

“Then I want your word!” Ed says, with an odd, intense stare. “Promise me you won't hurt my family!”

There is a very short pause. “I will keep that promise.”

Ed lets out a small nod and turns his face to the ground. “No, Brother! What are you trying to do?!” Al shouts. “What are you thinking? Run! Get up and run!”

But Ed does not run. No, that loyal bastard stays just lying there, willing to accept death if it will save you and his brother. The man’s hand stretches out toward Ed.

Now!

You shoot your hands forward and the shadows surge around the pair. Instantly, it's as if night has fallen, blackness completely taking over your vision. You focus on the areas where the motes are unable to occupy, using that to locate both Ed and his attacker. You gather together the shadows around the man, pulling him backwards as hard as you can, dragging him away from Ed. At the same time, you sprint out from the shadows, running toward the boy as fast as you can. A wave of particular dizziness crashes over you, and you nearly fall over, but force yourself to remain upright. Your bare, stumbling feet are utterly silent against the ground, unlike the loud thumping that usually accompanies your boot heels, which would have given you away.

You reach Ed and drag him upright, slinging his arm over your shoulders, staggering away as fast as you can. “Need a hand?” you rasp, dragging him after you.

He’s shaking.

The sound of a gunshot pierces the air. An angry, familiar voice rings out. “That’s enough!” You and Ed gasp at the same time, turning to look over your shoulders. There is Roy, Riza, and Havoc, along with the rest of Roy’s team. “You won't be killing anybody else today, Scar,” Roy says, still holding his gun in the air. “I’m taking you into custody, where you will answer for the murders of at least ten State Alchemists.”

The man—Scar?—seems utterly unfazed by military lineup before him. “Alchemists alter things from their natural form,” he says, “reverting them to something else. Something grotesque. They profane God, the true creator of all things. As an agent of God, I am here to hand down his judgment. If you interfere, I will eliminate you as well.”

Roy looks unimpressed—almost amused, actually. “Is that so?” he drawls. He hands Riza the gun. “You guys stay out of it,” he orders.

“Colonel Mustang, sir...!” she protests.

“Colonel Mustang,” Scar muses. “So this is the Flame Alchemist.” He flexes his hand and starts to step toward Mustang—and away from you and Ed. It isn't until that moment that you realize just how close he had been to you—less than a foot away. He starts running toward the Colonel. “This is truly an auspicious day!”

Mustang smirks and tugs on his gloves. “So you know who I am, and you still want to challenge me?”

Rain drips off his lips as he speaks, and realization hits you, even through your throbbing, hazy mind. Rain...

Riza starts running after the Colonel.

Just as Scar reaches the Colonel, the latter of the two proclaims, “Bad decision.” He snaps his fingers, letting out a tiny poof of smoke. He looks confused and then Scar’s arm shoots out toward his head at the same time as the Lieutenant sweeps his legs out from under him. When Mustang is down, she whips out two handguns and starts firing at Scar. The man leaps around, somehow avoiding the sharpshooter’s bullets.

On the ground, Roy lets out an indignant exclamation of, “Hey Hawkeye, what the hell did you do that for?!”

“You know as well as I do that you’re useless on rainy days,” she retorts, glaring at the spot where Scar disappeared behind a wall. “Please stay back!”

“Oh yeah,” Havoc comments. “I forgot. It’s kinda hard to get a spark going when it’s raining, huh?”

“It’s fortunate you can't use your blasphemous flames, State Alchemist,” Scar says, still hiding behind the wall. “For I will destroy all who interfere with my mission, right here and now!”

But then another voice rings out. “I’d like to see you try it!” it shouts.

Is that...?

Scar leaps backward, back into the open. “A newcomer.”

“You have to be quick to avoid my fist!” Armstrong boasts. “Not bad. Not bad at all. You said you were going to destroy us all. And in that case, why don’t you start by defeating me?!”

You are dimly aware of the battle noises coming from behind the wall as hands grab at you and Ed, pulling you back. You lash out at them clumsily, blearily, until you finally realize that it’s just Havoc and Riza. You let them tug you and Ed back toward the rest of the squad, not letting go of your arm around Ed.

“Who—who is he?” Ed murmurs, still trembling. He watches the fight going on in the alley with wide, open eyes.

“That’s the same man who murdered Mister Tucker and his daughter,” Havoc says. Ed gasps and jerks his head to look at him, and you let out a choked exclamation.

“It’s him!” Ed pants.

“Major!” Havoc suddenly hollers. “Watch what you’re doing!! We don’t want to destroy the city, do we?!”

“What do you mean?!” Armstrong shouts back, he strikes a pose, his shirt suddenly missing, revealing his unnaturally bulging, rippling muscles. “Creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin! You must destroy to create—that is the law of the universe!”

Riza deadpans. “Did he have to strip?”

“Are you surprised?” Havoc replies with the same tone. “He's clearly insane.”

As you approach the others, you hear Roy’s surprised voice. If you could think properly, you’d probably be surprised at just how much the sound of his voice can calm you; maybe you trust him more than you would think. “So this killer is an alchemist, too?” he mutters, his low voice smooth as ever.

“That’s it,” Ed mumbles. “The stages of the transmutation process are construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction. This guy must just stop at the deconstruction phase!”

“But if Scar is an alchemist as well,” Havoc says, “doesn’t that mean he's strayed from whatever his ‘ways of God’ are, too?”

“And what would be his motivation for only targeting alchemists with state certification?” Roy wonders.

You watch as Armstrong backs the man against a wall. He goes to throw a punch, and Scar must see an opening, because he lashes out in a counterattack. But suddenly, Armstrong jumps backward, and then Riza is firing at the scarred man with a rifle. He dodges most of the bullets, but she manages to connect with one shot. His tinted glasses go flying off his face, and a bit of blood spatters onto the floor.

“Did you get him?” Roy asks urgently.

“He’s too fast,” Riza growls. “I only managed to graze him with one shot.”

The man glares with bright red eyes, blood welling up at his temple before trickling down the side of his face.

“Red eyes!” Armstrong gasps. “And brown skin! That means—!”

“Ish...valan!” you gasp with a slur, blinking dark spots out of your eyes. Somehow, you’re still standing, despite the roiling ground beneath you. You sway in place, still holding Ed against you, your hands knotted in his shirt with a death grip. He leans on you heavily, clinging to you like a lifeline. He’s taking comfort in your fiercely protective presence, in your sense of comfort and safety. And you take comfort in the fact that this is Ed, that he’s okay—that he’s alive.

As long as he’s in your arms, nothing can hurt him.

Scar’s voice snaps you back into reality. You hadn’t even realized you’d been drifting. “Perhaps there are too many,” he says, appraising the line of ten-plus soldiers before him.

Roy holds up a hand. “You might as well give up, Scar,” he proclaims. “You’re not getting away.”

But the next series of events happens almost too quickly for your addled brain to process. There is a flash of blue and Scar bends over, then there’s a wave of dust—that’s my job!—and then he’s gone. After a few moments, you realize that he blasted a hole in the ground under his feet.

“Bastard is in the sewers,” Havoc grunts.

“Stay put,” the Colonel orders.

“You don’t have to tell me twice!”

“Sorry Armstrong,” Mustang says. “But thank you for buying us enough time to surround him.”

Armstrong shakes his head. “I was hardly ‘buying time’,” he murmurs. “It was all I could do to keep myself from being killed.”

Maes’ head pops in. “Is it over now?” While he and the Colonel start bickering, you and Ed remember Al at the same time. You (reluctantly) release Ed and he dashes into the alley. You follow close behind, but the ground bucks up under you and fall over, skinning your knees on the rough concrete. You feel gentle hands on your arms, helping you up, and you look over your shoulder to see Riza. She tries to tug you back toward the others—probably wanting to look you over, find out why the world is shaking and your eye isn't working right—but you shake her off and stumble over to Ed and Al, dropping to your stinging knees beside them.

The one-armed boy kneels before his brother. “Al!” he barks. “Al, are you alright? Come on Al, can you hear me?”

Much to everyone’s surprise, the first thing the badly-broken suit of armor does is punch his brother so hard that he goes reeling. “Why didn’t you run away when I told you to?!” Al demands. “What kind of idiot are you?!?!”

“No way!” Ed argues. “I’m not just gonna run away and leave you behind!”

“That’s exactly why you’re an idiot!” Al screams, punching his brother again.

Ed slumps against the wall, holding his cheek with his hand. “What do you keep punching me like that for? If I'd run away, you could have been killed, you know that?!”

“And maybe I wouldn’t have been!” Al retorts. “Making the decision to die is something only an idiot does!”

“Hey, easy on the idiot stuff! I’m still your older brother, got it?!”

“I’ll say it all I want to!!” He grabs Ed by the shirt front and holds him up to his armored face. “Survival is the only way, Ed! Live on! Learn more about alchemy! You can find a way to get our bodies back and help people like Nina! You can't do that by dying! I won't allow you to abandon the possibility of hope and choose a meaningless death!” Suddenly, the arm that he was holding Ed up by crumbles at the joint, falling to the floor. “Aw, great!!!” he rages. “And now my arm’s come off because my brother’s a big, fat, idiot!!!”

Ed hangs his head.

Al suddenly turns on you. “And as for you!” he roars. You squeak and throw your arms up to block your face, but the sudden motion sends another wave of dizziness through you, sending you falling backwards onto the ground. On your back, you groan, blinking up at rapidly-clearing sky. “What are you still doing here, worrying about me?!” Al demands. “You hit your head! Go over there and get yourself checked out!” You manage to drag yourself back into an upright position and nod your head, eyes trained on the ground.

You feel something warm wrap around you, and look back to see Hawkeye draping her military jacket over your shoulders. Smiling at her, you shift slightly, resting your forehead against one of the still-solid parts of Al’s armor. You reach out and grab Ed’s remaining flesh hand in your own.

We’re a family, you think. A crazy, messed up family, but... it’s still a family. It’s gonna be us against the world, and nothing’s gonna come between that.

※※※

After a while, you’d been diagnosed with a concussion and told to take it easy for a few days.

You stand in Mustang’s office next to Ed, the rest of his team milling around the room. “The Ishvalans were a race of people who lived to the east of us,” the Colonel explains. “They believed that their god Ishvala was the one true creator. Even after they were annexed into the country, there were still conflicts between us and them.

“Then, thirteen years ago, a military officer accidentally shot and killed an Ishvalan child. That led to a full-blown civil war. One uprising lead to another. Before long, the rebellion had spread to the whole eastern sector.

“After seven years of this, an order came down from the military high command: to exterminate Ishval. Many State Alchemists were brought in to act as human weapons. Needless to say, the alchemists produced striking results.”

The Colonel’s dark eyes flicker with what can only be memories, and you can only imagine the horrors he must’ve had to endure.

...the child’s bloody arm hangs off the stairs. The look of surprise and confusion was still etched on her face as her eyes stared infinitely up at the swirling stars above. Her beloved teddy bear lay, harmless and abandoned, on the ground near her hand, her hand that sent a thin trickle of blood down the long stairs...

...the officers behind the wall fire their guns, the loud, crackling POP nearly deafening. The shots come, one after another after another. Blood spreads on the ground, pooling in the cracks between the stones, as man after woman after child falls...

...the flames roar, eating through the wooden homes like hungry dogs. From inside, screams can still be heard as the people within are unable to escape. A horrible, acrid stench wafts through the air: the smell of burning flesh. Cold and unfeeling, the soldiers march through the streets in perfect lines and rows. Their guns are slung over their shoulders, their boots are shiny, and their uniforms are straight and unwrinkled. And they must hate the red eyes of the Ishvalans. Every time they see those eyes turned to them, filled with fear or rage or pleading or tears, be them upon the face of a man, a woman, or a child, they make sure the light within those eyes goes out...

...there are animated chains that spread across the streets, killing, choking, as people screamed in terror, crying, trying to run. People are trampled in the mad dash to escape, to be free, to live. All around, people scoop up children that have been left behind, running with them, trying to save them if nothing else. There is the terrible explosions that reduce grand stone buildings to nothing but rubble, and people to memories. There is the great bursts of flame that ravage everything they touch, burning buildings, plants, people, even, it seems, the very sky itself...

...broken, bloody bodies litter streets and alleys. They lay crumpled on the pavement, in various states of decay. They fill the air with the rotting scent of death, of fear, of hopelessness. Rats and flies grow fat and plentiful off the abundance of food left for them. Diseases spread, claiming more lives, producing more bodies to lie on the cold, bloody, rotting stone floors...

You jerk out of your trance, breathing hard. A cold sweat gathers on your forehead, and you wipe it away hastily with a shaking hand. What...what was that? you wonder.

You jump again as Ed bumps his shoulder against yours, drawing your attention. He’s looking at you with brows furrowed, mildly concerned. Mustang stares at you with one eyebrow raised. Riza watches you with somewhat narrowed eyes, as if examining you. And everyone else in the room just stares.

You sweat-drop and laugh shakily. “Sorry,” you apologize, forcing a smile. You rap your knuckles on your head. “Head injury, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

Mustang eyes you for a moment more before continuing. “That man is an Ishvalan survivor,” he says. “In a sense, his revenge is justified.”

“No way!” Ed growls, gritting his teeth. “There’s no justification for taking revenge on people who had nothing to do with it! He’s just dressing his ugly lust for vengeance in the mantle of his ‘God’ and calling himself an agent of justice.”

“Still,” Mustang says. “The fact is, he’s coming at us with full force. We can't let ourselves be killed for his cause.” A dent forms between his brows. “Next time,” he warns, “there will be no more talk. Got it?”

His team all nods. “Yes, sir,” they say in perfect synchronization.

You and the boys remain silent.

Maes turns to the three of you. “Well Echo, Ed, Alphonse,” he says. “What’re you three gonna do now? What’s the plan?”

Ed points an intense look at the ground. “We’re going to keep moving,” he says. “We can't just sit around—not as long as we’re still alive.”

“...Brother...”

Ed’s face softens and he puts his hand on Al’s busted shoulder. “Before we can make any headway on getting your body back, we have to get my arm back to normal. After all, Echo and I are the only ones who know how to bond your soul to the armor, and she might be loopy forever, so...”

“Hey!”

He ignores you. “We’ve got no choice!” He tosses his head. “It’s been a long time!” You sweat-drop. “We need to pay a visit to our mechanic!”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

You’re sitting on the train, having just boarded a few minutes ago. The air smells unpleasantly of feet, and you’re not excited for the long ride. You are sitting next to Ed, and had conceded to let him have the window seat. You plan on sleeping for as long as possible anyway, so there’s no point in blocking the poor boy’s view.

You shift, folding your long legs beneath yourself in an attempt to get comfortable. You stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the pull in your back and shoulder. You crack your knuckles loudly.

A sharp rapping sound catches your attention. You turn to see Maes at the window. “Hey,” he says, sounding muffled by the thick pane glass separating him from the rest of you.

Ed manages to get the window to open. He pokes his face out of the space in the top. “Lieutenant Colonel?” he says, surprised.

“The folks at the Eastern Command Center were a little too busy to make it down here today,” Maes answers. “So I came to see you off instead.”

“Great,” Ed replies, not sounding exceptionally happy. “But would you mind telling us what the Major is doing here?”

He turns to look at Mister Armstrong over his shoulder, and you both glance at the massive man on the seat across from you, who sparkles as he takes up nearly the whole bench.

Oh yeah, whoops. Did you forget to mention that Armstrong is here, too?

“He’s for protection,” Maes says. “What would happen if Scar came after you again?” Ed grips his right, armless shoulder tightly. “You’re in no shape for a fight now, Ed.” Maes leans casually on the side of the train. “The Major’s here to help,” he continues. “Just try to grin and bear it.”

“Children can be so stubborn,” Armstrong mutters.

You and Ed whirl on him simultaneously, anime-veins pulsing and fists waving angrily.

“Hey, shut up!”

“Watch it old man!”

“I’m not a child!”

“Don’t call me a child!”

Ed cools off first. “Anyway, are you sure Al made it on board?” he asks the Major.

“Of course,” Armstrong answers, his voice a low rumble. “I put him in with the sheep. I thought he might get lonely otherwise...”

You and Ed have very different reactions (as usual). You snort in amusement at the thought of Al in his wooden crate, surrounded by sheep, all baaing at him mindlessly. On the other hand, Ed starts fuming again. “My brother is not some kind of farm animal!” he roars at the Major.

Suddenly, a bell starts ringing loudly, and the train whistle blows. Maes steps back and offers you guys a salute. “Okay,” he grins. “You guys have a safe trip! Stop in and give me a shout the next time you make it to Central!”

You, Ed, and Armstrong salute him back, the latter two both with serious, grim expressions, and you with a close-eyed, toothy smile.

And then the train begins chugging off, carrying you, Ed, and the Major out of sight.

※※※

The train makes a stop in a small country town. You had fallen asleep with your head in Ed’s lap, legs bent over the edge of the bench and into the aisle.

You grumble at having been awoken, shutting your eye again and nuzzling your face back into the boy’s legs.

Then, suddenly Armstrong is on his feet, leaning his face out the window, nearly crushing you and Ed. “Doctor Marcoh!” he shouts to a man walking by. “Doctor Marcoh, that is you, isn't it?” The man turns. “It’s me, Alex Louis Armstrong, from Central!” the Major bellows.

Marcoh’s face twists in horror, and he takes off running—away from the train.

After a beat of silence, you break the ice. “I don’t think he was very happy to see you,” you say dryly. “I’m guessing you know him?”

“He’s from Central,” Armstrong replies. “A talented State Alchemist. He was researching possible medical applications of alchemy. But after the Ishvalan Civil War, he went missing; just disappeared.”

Ed squeezes his way out from under the Major, and takes off running. His empty sleeve flaps behind him. “Let’s go,” he urges. “A guy like this doctor might know a few useful things about bio-alchemy."

※※※

“Excuse me, but would you happen to know who this person is, by any chance?” Armstrong shows the man in question the picture he’d drawn of Mister Marcoh—a picture that looks exactly like the runaway doctor.

“Wow, Armstrong, that’s really good!” you murmur.

The Major lifts his chin, sparkling slightly. “The art of portraiture has been passed down through the Armstrong family for generations!” he declares proudly, and you can't help but to crack a grin.

“Wait a minute,” the man says, looking at the picture carefully. “That looks like Doctor Mauro to me.”

“Mauro?”

“All of our town’s doctors were drafted to help on the battle field during the Civil War,” the man explains. “Then Doctor Mauro came here! He’s really been a lifesaver.”

“He’ll see any patient,” another man chimes in, “and he never gives up on anybody. We’re really lucky to have him here.”

“You see this bright flash of light,” a young blonde woman says, “and then you’re cured! Just like that!”

The three of you exchange a meaningful glance.

※※※

“This is it,” you say, lifting your flesh hand to knock on the green door. Ed’s at your side, and Armstrong is climbing the stairs slowly, with Al’s broken armor in a large crate on his shoulder.

After a moment, when nobody answers, you growl and pull the door open yourself. “Hello, Mister Marcoh? We—agh!”

The last bit is because you’re greeted by a revolver pointed at your face. You manage to drop to the ground just before he pulls the trigger, dodging the bullet.

“Alright, tell me what you three are doing here!” Marcoh demands, still holding up the gun. “Have you come to take me back?!”

The Major holds up his free hand, palm out. “Please, Doctor,” he says evenly. “Calm down.”

Marcoh ignores him. “I don’t ever want to go back!” The gun in his hands trembles as he begins to shiver. “Anything but that!”

“That’s not it,” Armstrong assures. “Please, listen.”

“So! You’re here to silence me, then!”

“No! Nothing like that!”

“I won't be tricked by you!”

The Major lets out something between a sigh and a growl, and suddenly flings Al’s crate at the man. “I'll ask you one more time, please calm down!!!” he roars.

“Alphonse!”

※※※

The five of you sit around the wooden table inside the Doctor’s house. Well, if you consider Al, still in his crate, “sitting”.

“So,” Armstrong repeats, clarifying. “You changed your name; decided to live in hiding, way out here in the countryside. If the rumors I’ve heard are to be believed, when you disappeared, you took top-secret materials with you.”

Marcoh stares down at his clasped hands. “I couldn’t handle it anymore,” he croaks. “Order or no order, to have to dirty my hands researching that thing was...too much.”

“What ‘thing’ was that?” Ed asks carefully.

The Doctor’s lips pull back over his teeth. “It took so many lives,” he growls. “During the Civil War, so many innocent lives were lost because of it.” He hangs his head. “I could spend my whole life trying, and never atone for the things I’ve done. But I had to do something. So I came here to be a doctor, so I could save lives instead of taking them.”

After a beat: “Doctor.” Armstrong’s voice is low. “What exactly was it you were ordered to do research on? What ‘thing’?”

“The Philosopher's Stone.” You all gasp. Your heart skips a beat. “The top-secret materials I took were my research notes,” Marcoh continues; “and the Stone itself.”

You slam your palms down on the table, standing up so fast that you knock your chair over behind you. Your green eye bores into his dark ones. “You have it?!” you exclaim. “You have a Stone? Here?!”

The Doctor’s face darkens. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small glass bottle. Inside is a thick red liquid.

It looks like blood.

He starts to unscrew the cap. “How can that be the Stone?” Ed questions. “It’s liquid!”

Marcoh ignores him, instead unceremoniously pouring the liquid out onto the table. Gasps sound again, and then the mixture gathers in on itself on the table, holding its shape, like mercury. Ed lets out a short breath, and you pull your chair upright and sit again; restlessly, this time, on the edge of your seat, ready to spring up at any moment.

“The Sage’s Stone,” Marcoh rasps. “The Grand Elixir. The Celestial Stone. The Red Tincture. The Fifth Element. Just as the Philosopher's Stone is called by many names, so it can take on many forms.” Ed leans over and carefully pokes the mixture with a gloved hand. It jiggles under his touch, but it remains in its gel-like form. “It is not necessarily a Stone,” he continues, carefully putting the mixture back into the bottle. “This is an incomplete product. There is no way to know when it will reach its limit and become unusable.”

“Finished or not, it demonstrated plenty of power during the Ishvalan Civil War, right?” Ed asks.

Marcoh starts.

“It’s just like the Stone that false priest had in Liore,” you remark. “It was incomplete, but it still did plenty for his alchemy.” A dark grin twists your face. “If imitation Stones are this powerful...well, just imagine a completed product!”

Ed’s palm connects with the table, and this time it’s his turn to jerk to his feet. “Doctor Marcoh,” he says urgently. “We need access to your research materials!”

Marcoh turns slowly to Armstrong. “Major,” he says quietly. “Who exactly are these kids?”

Armstrong turns a deep stare onto the Doctor. “‘These kids’,” he repeats, his voice a low, warning rumble, “are State Alchemists.”

Marcoh’s eyes widen. “What?!” he gasps. “But they’re only children!” He grunts and pinches the bridge of his nose. “After the war... there were many State Alchemists who turned in their certifications; because they refused to serve as human weapons anymore. But now...” He groans. “Children?”

Anger flares up in you. I am not a fucking baby! “You think we don’t know what we fucking signed up for?” you snarl. “I know what we’re doing, but this is the only choice we have! If it’s a mistake, then there’s a price we’ll have to pay. But we’ll pay it when the time comes, and not a moment sooner, you got that?”

※※※

“I see,” the Doctor says eventually. “So you three committed the taboo.” He braces his hands on the edges of the crate and leans forward slightly, examining Al’s broken armor with intense scrutiny. “Amazing,” he breathes. “The ability to transmute a specific person’s soul like this... maybe ones as talented as you two would be able to create a complete Philosopher's Stone...”

Ed beams. “So—”

“... But I can't show you my research,” he finishes glumly.

“What?” you protest. “But you just said—!”

“You must not seek after the Stone!”

Ed glowers. “Not even if it’s to get our bodies back?”

“Never,” Marcoh confirms vehemently. “It is the Devil’s research. If you chase the Stone, you will go through Hell!”

Anger flares up in you suddenly, hot, fast, and dangerous. “We’ve already been through fucking Hell!” you roar, jumping to your feet and kicking the leg of the table savagely, causing it to jerk several inches back. Steaming, you stalk away, standing stiffly straight in the corner, facing the wall, your arms crossed over your chest.

After a few moments, you hear Doctor Marcoh sigh. “Please,” he whispers. “Please, just leave.”

※※※

The green door is closed and locked tight. The rubber soles of your heavy black boots thunk audibly on the stone stairs. Halfway down, Ed stops beside you. You pause, waiting for him.

He looks back over his shoulder at the house. Marcoh’s words bounce through your head, plaguing you with questions that you’re unable to answer.

I don’t understand! you think to yourself in frustration. What does it mean? What could be so horrible about it that he had to run away and go into hiding? What does he mean when he talks about atoning for the things he’s done? What things did he do? And why is it the Devil’s research?

You growl, furious at yourself for not knowing the answers, and slam your human fist forcefully into the brick wall. A bright, blaring jolt of pain shoots up your arm and you let out a hiss between your clenched teeth. Your fingers start to throb as you grasp your wrist tightly, and you relish the pain, clinging to it greedily, savoring the sight of blood pooling over your split knuckles.

It helps to center you.

As you start walk back to the train station, you trail slightly behind the others, thoughts swirling in your head. Ahead of you, Ed slows his pace, lagging behind until he's next to you.

Silently, he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your bruising knuckles.

He glances at you, and you quickly look away from his disapproving expression, shame blooming in your chest.

※※※

Back at train station, you sit on a wooden bench next to Ed, beside his empty right coat sleeve. His other arm rests over the back of the bench, stretching toward Armstrong, who sits on his other side.

“Are you two sure about this?” the Major asks lowly. Not sure what he’s talking about, you and Ed blink up at the man. “Even an incomplete Philosopher's Stone could be useful,” he continues. “You could have taken it from the Doctor by force.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider it,” you murmur, your eye fixated on a crack in the concrete.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees with a dismissive sigh. “I wanted it so bad, I could almost taste it. But still...”

His golden eyes cut to Al, sitting in his crate obediently, having been mostly silent and observational during this stop. “But still,” Al says, his ever-echoing voice unreadable. “We didn’t want it bad enough that we’d be willing to deprive this town of their only doctor to get it.”

Ed’s pleasant, open face is aimed up at the sky. His guard is down—something that doesn’t happen very often, not even around you—and you take the opportunity to examine him in profile.

He’s gotten a bit of a tan lately, his skin just a hint darker than usual. His hair is starting to get long, too. His thick, blonde braid comes to rest low between his shoulder blades, ragged at the end from damage and dead-ends. His eyes are a light amber now, like warm honey. You take notice, for the first time, of a few faint scars on his face. A vertical dash at the edge of his eyebrow, a small mark on the side of his jaw, two short lines crossed over each other on his temple.

They don’t make him any less attractive.

“We learned plenty just by finding out the Philosopher's Stone can be made,” he says, his voice more familiar to you than even your own. A small smile plays on his lips. “Now we’ll just have to find another way to do it!”

You head spins. You don’t understand why a hundred different feelings surge up inside you every time you look at your best friend. You don’t understand why you always want him near you, as if he would disappear if he left. You don’t understand why his voice sends tiny shockwaves down your spine, why every time he says your name, electricity shoots out over your skin.

You let out something of a groan and lean into him, resting your cheek on his hard metal shoulder. You bury your face in his neck, the feeling of the pulse beneath his skin doing things to you that you can't even begin to understand.

You don’t understand why your very soul aches whenever he’s in pain. You don’t understand why your throat tightens every time he touches you. You don’t understand why you want to hold him, why you want him to hold you, why you wish time would stop so that you could enjoy these moments, these moments where he lets down his walls, lets the mask drop, and lets you see the real him.

You don’t understand why your eye is stinging and your throat is tight, and all you want to do is cry.

You feel his shoulder shift, as if he were raising his an arm to wrap around you. But there is no arm there to lift, and that fact sends a dull, throbbing ache through you. He’s missing an arm because you weren’t good enough. He’s suffering because a little knock on the head left you a useless, drunken, stumbling mess.

Fuck; you’ve done it now. You’ve pulled the trigger, and a bitingly familiar wave of guilt and rage crashes over you without warning, and you’re drowning in it again, drowning your sea of self-hatred, and you so desperately wish that you could find a few moments alone to remedy the screaming itch at the skin of your thighs. You’re drowning in your ocean, and you know with a disgusting, bitter sense of glee that if people knew your deepest truth, they would hate you.

They would realize, finally, what a twisted, sick monster you were. They would treat you, finally, the way you so deserve to be treated—with disgust, with hatred, with contempt. They would stop being kind to you, stop letting you hurt them with your own incompetence. Stop letting you hurt them and then acting as though you hadn’t, as though you hadn’t been the one to cause their problems, as though you hadn’t been the one who’d failed.

This is what you want, what you so desperately want. You want people to know you, so you can stop hurting them and you can get what you deserve. So that they’ll leave you alone, that they’ll stay away from you. You want it so bad.

But you know you’ll never tell them.

You’ll never let them know that your sanity relies on a few tiny pieces of metal, that those sharp little bits of shrapnel are your solace; are your punishment; are your justice.

Because if they knew, they’d stay away, stay away from you, and then you’d be alone. And then it wouldn’t matter how many cuts you dug into your skin; you’d still go crazy.

So you keep your secrets to yourself, keep the truest bits of yourself locked away from the world. You put on a smile, put a snarky glint in your single lonely eye, and hide the textured white lines and raised red slashes that decorate your legs, cover them up with cloth as if sweeping them under the rug.

Because no one is allowed to know you. Not Riza, not Armstrong, not Roy or Winry or Al. Not even Ed.

Especially not Ed.

Because if Ed hated you, you know with a perfect, crystalline certainty that you would die.

You think back to the expression on his face when he saw your hand after you punched the wall, and shame worms its way under your skin.

※※※

The train comes bellowing into the station. The force of it sends your long, wild hair flying in all directions. You’re standing as far away from the others as you can be without raising their suspicion, and you all wait for the train to slow and then stop so that you can board, so that you can get back to Resembool and Winry can clean up after your mistakes—mistakes that you weren’t even the victim of.

“What do you say to not reporting back to Central about Doctor Marcoh’s location?” Ed shouts over the roar of wheels on the track.

“I met a simple, small-town doctor today,” the Major says, perfectly deadpan. “I don’t see any real reason to report that.”

Ed seems pleased by this response. When he turns to you, you avoid his eyes, forcing on a blaringly fake grin. You nod briefly, revealing nothing of the swirling, raging, chaotic emotions howling inside you, so close to the surface. Scratching hard at your leg, you turn back quickly to face the train.

From the edge of your vision, you’re keenly aware of his lingering gaze, something raw and vulnerable pooling just beneath his amber eyes, something that made him look like a lost little boy.

You know he’s worried about you. No matter how much you deny it, no matter how careful you are to keep your feelings away from the surface, he knows that something is wrong. He’s been with you for far too long to believe you when you say it’s just that your hand hurts.

The harder he pushes, the more you splinter, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“Wait!” A gasping, breathless voice pierces the air. Stock stiff, afraid that you’ll break if you move the wrong way, you glance over your shoulder. Doctor Marcoh is bent over, his hands on his knees, wheezing as he attempts to catch his breath.

The train pulls to a stop with a high-pitched squeal. “Doctor Marcoh?” Edward questions.

The man holds out a folded piece of paper. “This is where my materials are,” he whispers as Ed takes the object. “If you’re certain you won’t regret learning the truth in the end, then start by looking here. Look closely,” he says after a beat, his eyes closed. “Maybe you’ll find the truth hidden within the truth.” Your skin crawls—this talk of hidden truth is striking far too close to home, especially in your current eggshell state.

You’re glad when he turns away. “I’ve said too much already,” he says. He begins walking away. “I hope the day comes when you’re able to restore your bodies!”

※※※

The soothing rocking motion of the train helps to balance you immensely, as does the mug of hot chocolate Ed ordered for you after you boarded. You’re now rational again—and thoroughly ashamed of your display of weakness; in front of the Major, no less.

“Brother,” Al says after a while. “What does the note say?”

Ed unfolds the paper. “‘National Central Library’,” he reads aloud. “‘First Branch.”

“I get it,” Armstrong murmurs. “Like hiding a tree in the forest. Finding one book in that giant library will be difficult indeed.”

Ed smirks and tips his face up. His golden eyes burn with determination. “Finally,” he hisses victoriously. “Another clue about the Stone.”

※※※

Five hours later, finally approaching the Rockbell Automail Shop, you’re well-rested and back to normal. Den barks in greeting as you, the brothers, and the Major approach.

“Winry!” Granny calls to the house. “Winry! Our best customers are here! Winry!”

“Yo!” Ed calls happily, raising his arm in a wave. “Granny!”

“We’re home!” Al pipes in.

“Granny!” you beam. “We missed you!”

“Oh dear,” the old woman sighs. “What have you three done now?”

Ed chuckles reluctantly. “A lot has happened,” he admits. “Can you fix us up?”

The Major drops Al’s crate down gently, and Den hops up, licking Al’s armored face happily. The massive man shakes the tiny woman’s hand. It’s a comical sight.

“This is Major Alex Louis Armstrong,” Ed introduces.

“I’m Pinako Rockbell.” She takes a few steps back and looks you and Ed over critically. “I know I haven't seen you two for a while...but you’ve gone and grown smaller!”

A shadow crosses your face as you immediately start shouting expletives. Ed, on the other hand, looms over Granny, teeth clenched, and speaks with tightly-controlled rage. “You’ve got it all wrong, Granny!” he says with a jaw-clenched smile. “You’re supposed to say, ‘How big you two have grown!’!”

“Why would I say something so clearly untrue?”

“I’M STILL TALLER THAN YOU, YOU MINY HAG!!!”

A wrench comes sailing out of nowhere, knocking Edward on the head. This gives you just enough warning to go limp, dropping to the ground like a stone as another wrench goes flying, aimed at where you were an instant before.

“I thought I told you two to call before coming in for maintenance!” Winry shouts angrily.

You look up at your fair-haired friend, shocked at how much she’s changed. She’s grown at least six inches (damn her), and her hair is much longer. Her arms are more muscled now, and her chest has grown (totally not a weird observation, Echo. Of course not)—as has her confidence in her body, it seems. She wears a strapless black leather bandeau, a pair of loose lavender pants with a matching sweater tied around her waist, and mis-matched socks. Her blonde hair is held back into a ponytail with two loose chunks framing her face, all pulled back under a green bandana.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!” Ed hollers at the girl.

Winry beams at the two of you, letting out an easy laugh. “Welcome back!” she says sweetly, her blue eyes shining.

Ed glares at her from his spot on the ground. “...Yeah,” he grumbles.

※※※

When Winry sees the collection of shattered metal and loose nuts and bolts spread out over the table—all that remains of Ed’s arm—she lets out a shrill scream. She grabs pieces of the shrapnel and holds them in her fists, as if in denial.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ed speaks around his mug of tea. “It’s a little smashed up.”

“A little smashed up? A little?! Ed, do you see what you’ve done to my beautiful creation?! I slaved over this!!!”

Ed smirks. “It’s basically the same; it’s just in smaller pieces!”

Winry’s fist smashes into his face.

As Ed lies twitching on the floor, Winry stands beside Al’s crate, her hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me,” she says dully. “You a little smashed up too, Al? What kind of trouble have you three been getting yourselves into?”

Al blushes, and then grunts as Winry’s foot slams into his face—despite the fact that he can neither blush nor feel pain.

Now both Ed and Al are twitching on the floor. Winry turns her burning eyes on you, and you let out a squeak, cowering behind the Major for protection. “You idiots!” Winry says balefully. “All you ever do is worry me!”

※※※

Granny empties her pipe with a few sharp taps over the ashtray. “Alright,” she says slowly. “I see. In order to get this information you need, you want to go to Central as soon as possible. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Ed sighs. “This is kinda a rush order.”

Granny examined Ed’s feet carefully, both flesh and metal. “Hmm. It’s not just the arm,” she says thoughtfully. “Your leg needs adjusting, too.”

Winry leans over tauntingly. “Guess your growth’s not completely stunted, after all!” she teases.

Ed growls at her. “OH, SHUT UP!” he shouts.

“Leg aside,” Granny continues, “The shape the arm’s in, we’ll have to rebuild that from scratch.”

“Is there any chance you can have it done in a week?”

Granny rises to her feet. “Give us some credit, Ed!” She takes a puff from her pipe, then smirks. “Three days.”

She pulls off Ed’s leg carefully and then shoves on a temporary replacement. “You’ll have to make due with this spare for now,” she says.

Ed stands up and then wobbles, flailing his one arm for balance. “It’s a little difficult to walk on a leg I’m not used to!” he chuckles.

“We’ll be finished before you get used to it.”

“Three days, huh?” Winry says. “Between machining, assembling, connecting, and finishing...that’s three all-nighters.”

Ed’s brow furrows. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

Winry turns and smirks at him over her shoulder. “You want to get back to Central as soon as possible, right? Then I’ll work my butt off for you...but you’d better believe you’re gonna pay a fortune in rush-order fees!”

※※※

Finally, you’re alone. Ed is out, meaning that he’s visiting Trisha’s grave. Al is downstairs with Granny and the Major, and Winry’s busy working on Ed’s arm.

No one will be coming up here to bother you.

You hold your breath as you turn your small black box over and over in your hands. You grab it and hold it tightly, sitting on your bed with your head bowed.

Your fingers toy with the lid, with the small trigger that’ll send the box springing open if pressed. Your breath comes in long, hard pants, trying to fight away your desperate urge.

You know it’s wrong. You know full fucking well that it’s wrong. That it’s bad, it’s stupid, it’s dangerous. It’s violent, and it’s unhealthy.

But you deserve it. It’s all that you deserve.

But it feels so good.

Of course, it hurts like a bitch—it hurts every time. But that’s the point. It’s your way of trying to purge yourself of your sins—letting them bleed out of you. But it’s also your punishment. Every cut that you make hurts. And it’s not the hurt that feels good—not at all. Every line that you create is a marking of apology, an attempt at Equivalent Exchange, carved into your skin like words in a blank notebook.

No, it’s not the pain that you enjoy; it’s the release. The bleeding. It’s letting out all the guilt, the sin, the innate toxicity that’s in your bloodstream. It’s about freeing yourself—however temporary—from all the badness inside you. It’s about being pure clean, even if for just a moment.

You’ll never be pure, you selfish, disgusting monster.

With something between a growl and a sob, you yank your black pants down your legs and jerk upright, allowing the little evil black box to tumble to the ground at your feet. You look at yourself in the mirror, disgusted by what you see. Your fingers trace the textured white lines carved deep into your thighs, into the soft, hidden patches of skin. You look at your battered, patch-work body, feeling tears pool in your eye.

You are disgusting. You’re a monster. Why would anybody care about you?

You can’t help but hate what you’ve done to yourself—what you’ve done to them. You stole Al’s body, you stole Ed’s arm and leg. They’ve tried to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, but it’s a lie. It really and truly is a lie.

You destroyed them.

When Ed had first suggested the idea—really and truly suggested it—he had asked for your opinion. If you had said no, they wouldn’t have gone through with it. It would have all been over right then.

Why didn’t I say no?

You didn’t because you are weak and selfish and disgusting and worthless and you wanted this, didn’t you?

So now you have to live with this. Live with your guilt, your pain, your own self-loathing. You have to live with the constant reminder of what you did to the two people you care about most; with the knowledge that you ruined their lives forever. You have to live with one eye, with one arm.

The other arm is just a reminder of your own failure. The metal arm that mocks you every time you see it. The metal arm that is just a small fraction of your punishment for your own stupidity. The metal arm that Granny had to take the time out of her day just to readjust, adding a few inches to it—time that could have been much better spent elsewhere.

But she had to waste it on you.

And you aren’t worth it.

You are worth nothing.

Your skin crawls—you want what’s in your box. You want it, you want to feel, you want to bleed, you want to open yourself up and let yours sins flow away. You want it, you want it so bad, but you can't, you can't, you shouldn’t—but you need to. You need it.

You need to.

You deserve this.

So you yank open the box and rip your skin apart and cry yourself to sleep.

※※※

A while later, Edward opens the door and walks inside. “I’m back!” he calls.

He’s stopped by a... peculiar sight. There is a sparkling Armstrong, tears streaming down his face, shirtless (as usual). Then there is you in his arms, being crushed against his chest, and looking generally confused.

“Oh, Edward Elric!” the Major cries. “What unyielding love to try to bring your mother back to life! What a tremendous sacrifice to give up your own arm in order to transmute your brother’s disembodied soul! What determination to burn down your own home to make sure there was no retreat! COME EDWARD!” he roars, tucking you under one arm and attempting to catch the boy under his other. “NOW THERE IS HOPE FOR YOU IN THIS COMFORTING EMBRACE!!!”

“No!” Ed shrieks, dashing away from the large sparkly man. “Stay away! Don’t rub your chest on me!!! Waa!”

※※※

“They said it would take three days, right? So give them three days!”

You’re lying outside on the grass with Ed, Al, and Den. Your legs are tightly bandaged—you’ve gone back to your blades more times than you’d like to admit—and every move you make tugs painfully at the half-healed cuts.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Ed sighs grumpily, staring up at the sky. “It’s just, when I think of a clue to the Stone, sitting in Central Library somewhere...!” He flails his legs and single arm. “I get so impatient!” He pouts up to the clouds.

Then, suddenly, Den starts barking just as Winry rushes out of the house gleefully, holding Ed’s new metal arm in her hands. “Here ya go!” she cheers. “It’s all ready!”

So you all head inside. The Rockbells position Ed on the couch, where he waits, cringing, for them to reattach the nerves in both his arm and leg. Hurriedly, you drop onto the couch beside him, grabbing his flesh hand in your own. He blinks over at you—is that a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks?

Then, suddenly and without warning, both women connect his automail simultaneously. Ed’s whole body seizes up, his hand crushing yours in a death grip, to the point where you have to bite your lip hard enough that you taste blood to keep yourself from crying out. You feel your bones grinding together.

You know what he’s feeling. It’s not pain, per se, so much as total sensory overload. It’s like every touch you could possibly imagine, all rushing through your body in one instant.

But after a moment, he relaxes, and loosens his grip on your hand apologetically. He offers you a small, sheepish grin. Running your tongue over your teeth to make sure there’s no blood visible, you smile back through the pain.

Stop being a baby.

“Once we have the Philosopher's Stone,” you remind him, “you can kick that pain right out the door.”

“Our biggest source of income,” Granny says nonchalantly. “I’ll be sad to see you two go.” She accidentally tweaks something in Ed’s leg, and his whole body spasms.

“Stay still!” Winry scolds. “Do you want me to do this right, or not?!” She then proceeds to start fangirling about her automail creation, spinning around the room excitedly, breathing heavily, a massive smile painting her close-eyed face.

“Gear-head,” Ed pipes in.

Winry cracks open one eye and glares at him. “You’re lost without me, alchemy freak.”

“Alright,” Granny interrupts. “We’re done.”

Ed assesses his automail, stretching it out. “Yeah!” he says happily. “It’s good!”

“We increased the percentage of chrome this time,” Winry says, “so it should be less prone to rusting. The trade-off is that it’s not as strong, so don’t try anything crazy!”

But Ed is already rushing out the door, with you hot on his heels. “Al! It’s your turn!”

※※※

You and Ed clunk around with Al’s shattered armor. The Major stands behind you two, watching over your shoulders. “You’re going to fix him right here?”

“Yep!” Ed says easily. “You have to know the trick to it, though. Major, you see that seal on the inside of his back? That’s the medium between Al’s soul and the armor. So I have to be sure not to ruin it.”

He stands, clapping his hands together. In a blast of blue alchemy that sends his hair whipping back, Al is all patched up again, on his feet and back to normal.

Well, “normal”.

“There you go!” Ed says. “Good as new.”

“You two ready to try it out?” you challenge.

“Yeah!”

So the two of them face off against you. You prance around, jumping over kicks, ducking under punches, and leaping into the air for a few strikes of your own. You manage to flip Ed over your shoulder before sliding under Al’s legs, kicking the back of his knee out from under him, rolling out of the way before he can land on you. But then Ed is on you like a wildcat, trying to wrestle you to the ground.

The two of you grapple for a while, laughing. Al stands to the side, cheering. Sometimes for you, sometimes for Ed. It really doesn’t matter. It’s mostly just for fun.

But then, as Ed gets you pinned down for a moment, you arch your back sharply to try to buck him off. You let out a hissing gasp, single eye screwing shut in pain as you feel your scabs rip open, a warm wetness gathering below your bindings.

Immediately, Ed lets off, helping to pull you into a sitting position. “Echo?” he says urgently. “Echo, what’s wrong? What hurts?”

You blink back tears, attempting to smile around your grimace. “It’s nothing,” you lie easily. “I just bent my shoulder wrong, that’s all.”

After a moment of examination, he lets it go with a suspicious nod. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

That was much too close for your liking.

※※※

Early the next morning—before the sun even comes up—the four of you are standing outside the house. Your black box is hidden in a secret pocket of your backpack that serves as a suitcase.

“Thanks again, Granny,” Ed says to the old woman.

“Sure.”

“Hey!” Al asks suddenly. “Where’s Winry?”

“Resting. She stayed up three nights in a row.” Granny pauses. “Want me to wake her?”

“Nah,” Ed says casually, waving off her offer. “It’s okay.” Quieter, he says, “She’d just nag me.”

As you all start walking away, you hear Granny’s voice behind you. “Hold on a second, boys,” she calls to you all.

You turn around with the rest of them, scowling. “Not a boy, Granny!”

She ignores you. “You should come back once in a while; have dinner with us.”

You smirk. “Only if you make stew.”

“Edward. Alphonse. Echo.” Winry’s slurred voice comes from the balcony. She gives a sleepy wave. “Come back soon, ‘kay?”

Ed grins and scratches the back of his head before turning around. “Yeah!” he calls as he walks away, lifting one hand up.

“Whatever you say, Winry.”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

The sound Ed makes when you reach the library would be comical, if the situation weren’t so depressing.

All that remains of the once grand, stone building is some charred bits of rubble. At some point—likely recently, judging from the scent of smoke that lingers faintly in the air—there was a fire in the library—one that managed to consume, it seems, the entirety of the building, leaving it ruin.

“Doctor Marcoh’s research!” he wails. “It’s all gone!”

You wade through the wreckage, searching for anything salvageable, but what few items left that hadn’t gone up in flames crumble as soon as you put your hands on them. 

“There’s nothing here but ashes,” Ed mutters, dragging one finger along the sooty ground. “Everything’s gone.”

There is a beat of silence, and then a woman’s voice rings out. “Major Armstrong!”

All of you turn to see two officers standing at the edge of the destruction, arms lifted in a salute. One is a man and the other is a woman; both wear the blue uniforms of the military.

“Ah!” Armstrong greets, sounding a bit surprised. “Second Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosch; to what do we owe this pleasure?”

The woman—Ross, apparently—stands stiffly straight at attention. “You’ve been ordered to return to the Command Center, sir!” she says.

The man, Brosch, standing equally as stiff, continues. “We will be taking over supervision of Echo Slade, Edward Elric, and Alphonse Elric, effective immediately.”

The Major bows his head and a large sparkle appears next to his face. “Very well,” he consents.

“What is this?!” Ed complains, holding the back of his neck. “Just when I think we’re home free, they saddle us with more bodyguards?! This is getting old!”

※※※

It’s a tight squeeze in the back of the car, what with you, Ed, and Al, as well as both Ross and Brosch, all jammed in the back like a clown car.

“All might not be lost,” Ross informs you and the boys. “There is a woman who’s well-acquainted with the materials from the First Branch. Unfortunately,” she continues, “she wasn’t working there anymore.”

Ed scowls out the window. “That sounds incredibly helpful,” he says sarcastically.

Silence falls over the group. After a few moments, you notice that Brosch is staring right at Al with an odd intensity.

Al realizes it, too. “Something wrong?” he asks the blonde-haired man.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing!” Brosch says hurriedly. Then he hesitates. “But... if you don’t mind me asking... why are you wearing a suit of armor?”

Ed and Al exchange panicked glances, and you sigh at them mentally, rolling your eye.

Next time, could you try to be a little more obvious, please?!

Admittedly, though, you’re having trouble coming up with a feasible excuse. You decide to go with a classic—something easy and simple.

“Why not?” you counter casually, shrugging. “I’ve got my hobbies, Al has his.” You fix your eye on him, letting something not-so-nice bleed through. “Is that a problem?” you ask flatly—a challenge.

Brosch sweat-drops nervously and waves his hands around frantically. “No!” he promises quickly. “No, no, no; of course not!” He chuckles nervously. “I was just curious, yeah? Not a problem at all!”

You keep him pinned beneath your gaze for another moment before you let your eye slide shut. “Good.”

Ed and Al both stare intently out the window, sweating in the intensely awkward silence.

“Say, Al!” Ed blurts, trying to alleviate the tension in the air. “That’s an awfully nice view outside, right?!”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!” the boy agrees immediately. “It’s gorgeous!”

This time, you sigh out loud. You’ve been in a horrible mood all day, waking up angry at the world, at life, at yourself. You want to rip yourself apart, but you can’t seem to find a chance. You want to bleed, you want to punch something, you want to break something, you want to hurt someone.

You groan to yourself, massaging your temples in exasperation. I’m surrounded by idiots!

※※※

Ed pushes open the wooden door to reveal something more like a book-shrine than a house. The room is packed floor to ceiling with books. Shelves line every wall, with at least six more standing upright, leaving little room to walk. It’s dark inside, and messy, with several books strewn carelessly about the small amount of floor space.

Ogling at the massive collection, Ed gapes disbelievingly. “There’s gotta be a million of them!”

As you guys start to squeeze between the shelves, you hear Brosch groaning. “Is there really someone living in here?!” he mutters.

Ross ignores his remarks. “Miss Sheska?” she calls loudly, seeking out the owner of the house. “Are you here? Miss Sheska?”

At the end of the line of people slinking between the towering shelves, you hear a faint, muffled sound and pause. You strain your ears, trying to determine the source.

“_{Is someone there?}”

Your jaw drops as you stare at the small mountain of books on the floor, taking up a good deal of space between two shelves, trying to make out details in the shadowed spot. You blink once. Did I really just hear that? you wonder.

“_{Please, somebody help me!}”

You let out a shrill squeal as a hand shoots up suddenly from the pile, glasses hooked over the pinky. “There’s somebody under there!” you exclaim, pointing a finger at the pile.      

※※※

You sit back on your haunches, panting, watching the high-pitched girl that had been trapped beneath the books. She has short brown hair and big green doe-eyes. She kneels on the floor and then starts bowing repeatedly at you and the others.

“Thank you so much! I’m so sorry! I got myself trapped under a whole mountain of books!!!” she squeals. She pauses to breathe and fixes her glasses. “I thought I was going to suffocate under there!” She bows her head deeply, and then—several octaves lower than before, nearly within hearing range now—she pants, “Thank you so much.”

Ed claps the book in his hands closed, watching the girl warily. “So... you’re Sheska, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you worked at the library?”

She flinches, and then her eyes go all sparkly and a look of joy breaks out over her face, causing confusion to break out over your face.

“Oh, the library!” she beams. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful! I’ve loved books my whole entire life, ever since I first learned to read as a girl! That job—was heaven!!!” A spotlight appears on her as the rest of the room fades to blackness.

This is way more dramatic than I was expecting...

“But I forgot that I was supposed to be working!” the woman continues, “and all I ever did was read! So they fired me! If I don’t get another job, I’ll never be able to move my poor, elderly mother into a better hospital!”

This woman is like a friggin’ soap opera! On legs!!

“But I’m hopeless!” she bawls. “All I’m really good at is reading! I’ll never find another job as long as I live!”

...If she acts like this all the time, I know I sure as hell wouldn’t hire her!

“I’m worthless!” she sobs, tears cascading down her cheeks. “Good for nothing! A totally pathetic numbskull!”

Ed slowly raises his hand, looking as if he’s not sure whether to be nervous or amused. “Excuse me?” he says unsurely, struggling to be heard over the bespeckled woman’s wails. “There was one thing we wanted to ask you...”

Instantly—instantly!—Sheska’s tears vanish. “Yes?” she asks innocently, one finger on her chin.

...What the literal fuck just happened?!

 Ed seems unconcerned by the sudden change. “Do you remember seeing any research written by a man named Tim Marcoh?”

“Let’s see,” the bespeckled woman muses. “Tim Marcoh... where do I know that name?” A victorious smile crosses her face. “Oh, yes, of course—I remember now!”

“Really?!”

“Oh, yes, I’m absolutely positive!” she assures. “There were some handwritten notes stuffed into a bookcase where they didn’t belong.”

Ed looks overjoyed. “The notes really were there after all!”

You scowl. “Keyword: were,” you snap angrily. “They’re gone now, remember? Burned to shit in the fire.”

“Do you want to read them?” Sheska asks flatly. “Is that why you're asking?”

“Yeah,” Ed sighs drearily, beginning to shuffle away. “But it’s useless—they’re nothing but ashes now.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Al mumbles dejectedly.

“I remember everything that was in them,” the woman offers innocently. “Does that help at all?”

Ed and Al freeze before lunging at her disbelievingly. Oh, look at me! I’m Miss Fucking Perfect!

“It’s just how I am!” Sheska boasts. “I can remember the exact contents of any book I’ve ever read! It would take me awhile, but I could write them up for you.”

Ed and Al are practically in tears. “Thank you, bookworm!” Ed wails, shaking the young woman’s hand vigorously. Al is dancing behind the two and giggling madly. “You’re my hero!”

“You're... welcome?”

Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re happy, too. But you’re also very pissed off and are sort of...jealous? of the older woman, so you don’t want to have anything to do with her, no matter how helpful she may be.

※※※

A few days later, Sheska slams a final bundle of papers down on her desk with a loud bang. They sit with the other thirty-some bundles, all stacked in piles of varying sizes.

“Here it is!” she announces proudly, waving her hand at the collection. “Complete copies of all Tim Marcoh’s notes!”

You all take the time to gape at the mass of papers. Over the past few days, you’ve warmed up to the eccentric librarian slightly, though you do still kind of bristle around her.

“Sorry,” the woman continues. “I know five days is a long time to wait, but there was quite a lot to write down!” Ed picks up the first bundle; the title page reads 1000 Recipes for Today’s Menu.

“Unbelievable!” Al declares. “There are some amazing people in this world!” Sheska beams under his praise.

Meanwhile, Ed skims through the stack of papers in his hands. “Are these really Doctor Marcoh’s research notes?” His tone is unreadable.

“They sure are! Come and take a look at them!” She holds up two stacks of paper. “Written by Tim Marcoh: 1000 Easy Recipes!”

“Six cups of rice,” Ross rattles off dully, “One carrot, two onions, salt...” She sweat-drops. “Great, does this mean we came all this way for a cookbook?”

“Miss?” Brosch questions the librarian, pointing dubiously at the bundle in his hands. “What part of this made you think it was an important document?”

Sheska looks like a kicked puppy, placing one hand over her heart. It makes you feel both bad for her and also annoyed at her. “Is it not what you're looking for?” she quavers. “All I did was copy down what I remembered...!”

Brosch facepalms. “So this was all a wild goose chase?”

“Sheska?” Ed’s voice is quiet. “Are you absolutely sure that this is a flawless reproduction of the notes?”

The brunette pauses for just an instant, thinking carefully before answer. “Yes!” she says with conviction. “I’m one hundred-percent certain!”

Ed turns to face her with a grin. “Then thank you very much!” he says firmly. “You’re incredible!” He hoists one of the bundles into his arms. “Alright; let’s get these papers back to the library!”

On his way out the door, Ed pauses. “Oh! I almost forgot Sheska’s fee!” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small black notebook and a pen. He scribbles a number on it and then rips the page out, pressing it into Ross’ hands along with his pocket watch. “Here,” he says smoothly. “This is my registration number, and the pocket watch for ID. “Withdraw that amount from my annual research grants and make sure Sheska gets it!”

“Yes, sir,” Ross replies. “I’ll get on it right away. I assume I can take this note right down to the State Alchemist office?”

“That should work!”

Nobody notices you as you slip something small into Ross’ pocket—a note of your own, along with your pocket watch. Ross will find it when she gets to the office.

Ed turns. “Well Sheska, you’re a lifesaver. Bye!”

Before you leave, you pause at the door to the woman’s house, turning around to face the owner. You examine her face briefly, feeling guilty about your mild dislike. It’s not her fault, after all. She’s a great person, who’s been nothing but helpful, and you’ve been treating her rudely.

Sheska blinks at you, tilting her head slightly to one side. At this point, it’s only the two of you and Ross in the house, although the last woman is too busy gaping and the paper in her hand to notice anything else. “Echo?” Sheska questions innocently. “Is something the matter?”

You capture your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing at the skin there. Heat rises in your cheeks, coloring them pink. Suddenly, you bow deeply to the green-eyed woman, trying to avoid spilling the papers piled in your arms.

Eye trained on the floor, bent low at the waist, you muster up your courage. “Thank you for everything, Miss Sheska,” you murmur, blush deepening. “You’ve been a great help, and... and I’m very grateful to you.”

With that, you turn and rush out the door leaving your words, both spoken and unspoken, still hanging in the air.

Thank you for everything Miss Sheska. You’ve been a great help, and... and I’m very sorry.

※※※

When Echo leaves, Sheska returns to Ross’ side. The dark haired woman tilts the small piece of paper in her hands so that the librarian can see what’s written on it.

When she reads the number, she’s shocked. “Did he miss a decimal point somewhere?!?!” she shrieks, almost afraid of the number of zeroes written on there. “Wow! How does a boy like that have this kind of money to throw around?!”

※※※

You like the library a lot. The room is small, but comfortably so—large enough that there’s plenty of room to pace around, but not so big that you feel like you could get lost in it. There is a bookshelf lining one wall, and a single large window with soft beige curtains rests on the opposite one, letting light come pouring through, illuminating the room enough that wall sconces aren't needed until nightfall. A cheerful picture of rolling hills hangs on yet another wall, their grassy tops pocked with colorful flowers. A glossy mahogany table rests the middle of the floor, with chairs of the same material on each side. The floor is a pristine white tile, with a smooth wooden paneling over the base of the otherwise white walls.

Yes, you like this room a lot—which you find surprising. Why does this room appeal to you? It’s cheerful and clean and smooth, it’s bright and welcoming and open. None of those things are traits you associate with yourself (besides maybe clean—you are a firm believer in personal hygiene, thank you very much!).

No, you dress in all black, with black pants and leather boots, a metal arm hanging always at your side. The black clothes, the eyepatch, the metal glinting at your ears—you had gotten them pierced with Winry when you both were eleven; three small studs glimmer in each earlobe and two small loops on top—all of these things are, generally speaking, intimidating. Despite your small stature, people often pause, even for just an instant, before approaching or interacting. Your flaming hair—such a bright, bright red, unnaturally so—is worn loose and wild, the ends ragged and uneven, with knots and tangles the only things adorning its lengths. Your most common expression is either a smile or a scowl—two opposite sides of the spectrum. Your hands are rough and calloused, fingernails short and jagged from being bitten. You started cursing after Trisha had died, and over the years, these expletives have become as normal a part of your vocabulary as words like it and the.

No, you are not smooth. You are not cheerful, or welcoming, or open. You do not draw people in, you are not appealing, not like this lovely little room in the library.

Your thoughts are cut short by a flare of pain that wells up as your fingernail catches at a particularly painful cut on your leg, ripping scab off sharply. You hiss under your breath and press your palm against the cut, not wanting to get blood all over your pants.

A flicker of movement catches your eye, and you return your attention to Brosch, who stands at the foot of the table, and also to one of the manuscripts that rests in your mismatched grip.

“I don’t understand,” he sighs. “These are cookbooks! What could they possibly have to do with alchemy?”

“Alchemy is a powerful art,” Ed says, not lifting his gaze from the papers in his hands. “It can be incredibly dangerous if misused. In order to prevent that, alchemic research is always encrypted.”

You nod in agreement. “These notes here are designed to look like recipes,” you explain. “That’s what any normal person would see if they looked. The only way to know that they’re not what they seem is to... well, to know! Only the alchemist who originally wrote the encryptions can understand them.”

“If they’re so heavily encrypted,” Brosch asks, “then how are you going to be able to decipher them?”

A lopsided grin tugs at one corner of your mouth. “With effort,” you reply.

“We’ll have to use all our alchemical knowledge,” Ed adds, gazing intently at the papers. “It won't be easy.”

Brosch’s lips pull down uneasily. “Wow,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “That sounds really complicated.”

The other side of your mouth rises to join the first. This man is...you like this man. The way he’s blunt is endearing—because he’s blunt in such a nontraditional way. It’s not rude; it’s just... honest, like he says the first thing that comes to his mind. It’s bluntness is its most innocent form.

Ed’s face changes. “Al, Echo!” he says intensely. “There’s a section in here about green tea!”

“Green tea?” Al repeats, turning to look over his shoulder. “Are you thinking what I am?”

“Uh-huh,” Ed agrees with a hint of a smirk. “It might be a reference to the Green Lion of metallurgic alchemy! Do we have copies available of Flamel’s Codex or Lambsprings Concerning the Philosopher's Stone?”

You nudge the pile of books stacked next to you closer to Ed. “Right here.”

“All right! Take a look at this here...” He points at a section of Marcoh’s notes and you slide from your chair, crossing around the table to sit on one edge of it next to Ed’s chair, peering at the spot he’s pointing to. Al crouches on the blonde-haired boy’s other side, also reading the section of text. “And here, too, you see?”

“Yeah!” Al agrees. He points to another spot lower on the page. “And maybe here too, you see?”

“Great! We’ve got a place to start,” Ed cheers. “Let’s do this!”

※※※

Several hours later, the atmosphere in the room is significantly less excited. Ed is slumped over the table, his cheek pillowed against one of the seemingly-infinite stacks of paper. Al is sitting on the floor, leaning dully against the bookshelf, head tipped up, his glowing red eyes dimmer than normal. You are on your back under the table, arms flung wide, one of your legs bent, the sole of your boot pressed to the floor. Your other foot is propped up above your head, heel resting on a chair. Your eye gazes unseeingly on the bottom of the table above you.

“Ngh,” Ed groans, his voice slurring slightly. “Why does this encryption have to be so damn hard to figure out?”

Letters and numbers float before your eye, swimming and dancing around teasingly. You let said eye fall shut and rub at it with your flesh fingers, as if trying to erase the phantom writing. When you open your eye again, you find that it only half-worked.

“Brother?” Al mumbles. You roll your head to one side to see a book speared on the horn on his head. “Maybe we should ask Doctor Marcoh about this directly...”

“Hell no!” you cry, sitting up sharply and ramming your head on the underside of the table with a sharp crack. You let out a groan and fall back again, wincing at the sharp ache in your forehead. “Ow,” you mutter, rubbing at the spot. At least the letters are gone now. “Anyway, we absolutely will not go talk to Mister Marcoh about this! That would be admitting defeat!”

Al pulls the book off his head. “So this is a contest now?”

A timid voice sounds at the door. “Excuse me...?” You sit up to see the owner of the voice, but fall back down when you end up slamming your head against the table again. “Fuck!” you groan as you go slightly cross-eyed, stars dancing before you briefly. You settle for rolling your head sideways.

The person at the door turns out to be Sheska.

“Thanks to the money you gave me,” she says after Ross and Brosch go to sit outside the door, “I was able to move my mother to a better hospital. I really appreciate it.” She bows to you and Ed.

You grin. The note you’d slipped into Ross’ pocket had your own account number and an amount written that was equal to the one Ed had written.

Ed grins as well. The boys don’t know that you paid her, too. It wasn’t a secret, you just didn’t feel the need to tell them. In fact, nobody knows except for you, Sheska, Ross, and whoever it was that handled the money at the bank. “It’s no problem,” the boy says with a wave.

“Have you guys had any luck deciphering it so far?”

The exhaustion written on all of your faces is obviously answer enough for her.

“Have you found another job yet?” Al asks.

The roles are reversed.

“Anyway,” Sheska says with a smile, “you three made me feel better! It’s good to know that even a pathetic mess like me can help out sometimes!” All that with a smile, and you wonder if maybe you and Sheska aren’t so different after all.

“You’re not a pathetic mess, Sheska,” you blurt, crawling out from under the table to sit cross-legged on the floor.

“I agree!” Al says firmly. “I think the dedication you show to reading is a talent all on its own. And besides that, your memory is incredible! You should have more faith in yourself!”

Sheska’s eyes are soft. “Thank you, Al!” she says warmly, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.

Whatever words she may have said next are cut off by the sound of a hearty voice bursting from the door. “Yo!”

“Mister Hughes?” you ask, surprised.

“Major Armstrong told me you were here,” he says, slamming his palms down on the table next to and above you. You decide to slip into one of the chairs around the table, to lessen your chances of getting stepped on. “What gives, you two?! I told you to give me a shout the next time you guys made it to Central!”

“Oh, uh, I...” Ed scratches the back of his head. “Something urgent came up. We’re sorry.”

Hughes starts talking at high-speed, and you hear Brosch and Ross whispering (loudly). “They talk to Colonel Hughes as if he’s an old friend!”

“Just how high up are these kids?!”

Hughes’ tone changes, and you fix your attention back onto him. “We’ve had a lot of cases to deal with lately,” he says seriously. “And we’re still working on getting the Tucker/Chimera situation handled.” He freezes when he realizes what he said, wincing at the pained expression on your and Ed’s faces. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I guess that brings up some unpleasant memories, huh?” He sighs and slides into a chair. “Anyway, as if things weren’t bad enough for us already, the First Branch had to burn down in the middle of all this.”

“That’s been a problem, huh?”

“A big one. All of our case records were stored in that location! Trying to work without them—that’s a bit of a picnic, let me tell you!”

You can tell by their faces that Ed and Al have the same idea as you. A wicked grin twists your face. “Well then, Mister Hughes, have we got the woman for you!” All of your eyes roll to Sheska, still standing by the table.

She realizes what you're talking about, and jumps on the chance. “Well, I have read the military’s criminal case records, and I do remember them all...”

Maes leans eagerly over the table. “That’s all I needed to hear, lady! You’re hired! My office pays well, so don’t worry!”

“Oh! I—ah! You’re saying you want me?!” Sheska stammers. “I—ah! Thanks so much! I’ll have faith, just like you told me to!” She’s still squealing gleefully as Maes grabs her by the back of the shirt and starts dragging her away. “Oh, thank you; thank you!!!

※※※

“To Hell with it!” Ed roars, sweeping his arm over the table and knocking everything off of it. Papers go flying, books tumbling to the ground. You let out a shout of your own, shoving yourself out of your chair violently, sending it careening backward where it crashes into the wall. You pace over to the bookshelf, gripping it tightly and leaning your forehead against the wooden surface, letting your hair fall forward to hide your face.

You’re dimly aware of Ross’ and Brosch’s entrances, but you can’t bring yourself to look at them. Or at Al, or Ed, for that matter.

“What did you guys do to this place?!” Brosch questions.

“Don’t get angry because you can’t crack it,” Ross chastises, something rather like condescendence in her voice. “Throwing things won’t help.”

The words Al speaks are hollow—just like him. “We did crack it.” You hear the soldiers gasp. “We cracked the code and decrypted the notes.”

“Really?” Brosch cheers. “But that’s a good thing, isn't it?!”

Ed’s fist slams down onto the floor. “There’s nothing ‘good’ about this, damn it!” he roars, and you tighten your grip on the bookshelf, fingernails biting into the soft wood. “This really is the devil’s research,” Ed continues in a softer voice. “It should have been destroyed. Doctor Marcoh was right; it’s evil.”

“W-what’s so evil about it?”

A dark, low chuckle escapes your lips—it is not at all a happy sound. Another bitter laugh rises up and you swing your head around to face the two dumbfounded soldiers, trapping them in your haunted, one-eyed gaze. “Oh, it’s great,” you promise them, teeth grinding behind a smile. “No, really! You’re just gonna love this!” Your hands come up to grip your skull, fingers tangling into your red hair. “Do you know what a Philosopher's Stone is made of? Do you know what has to happen to create one?” You take their silence as an answer. You lean forward slightly, grin widening and tears starting to pool in your eye. Your voice drops to a whisper. “People have to die!”

The two gasp, and you whirl back around, facing the wall again so that they don’t see your tears. “I know!” you shout, flinging your arms out to the sides. “Isn’t it just fucking perfect?!” You slam your left hand into the wall so hard that your automail lets out a sharp creak. You ignore it. “That’s right,” you continue, your voice now a hush. “To make even just one little Stone, you have to make multiple human sacrifices!”

“How could the military authorize research into something so horrible?” moans Brosch.

“I can’t believe it!” Ross agrees. “How awful!”

You don’t bother to come up with a response. You’re too busy staring at your metal fist, still pressed against the clean white wall. There is now a spiderweb of deep cracks and fractures in the plaster surface. Your breath hitches, and you slowly lean forward to press your forehead against the ruined wall, next to the point of impact. Your anger drains, abandoning you, and leaving you just... sad.

Yet another destruction.

“Do us a favor,” Ed says, and his voice sounds older than it should be—older than it has any right to be. “...don’t speak to anyone about this.”

“But sir—!”

“Please!” he begs. (Why does it break your heart to hear him like that?) “Just... pretend you never heard any of it.”

※※※

The creaky ceiling fan spins overhead, achingly slow. The room is dark and there is a fly buzzing about noisily. Ed is sprawled out on the couch, with you hunched over at the foot and Al sitting behind it.

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Al breaks the silence. “Brother,” he calls. “Echo. You two should really get something to eat.”

Just the thought of food makes you want to throw up. “No thanks,” you mutter blandly. “Not hungry.”

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Surprisingly, it’s Ed who speaks next. “Pretty awful, huh?” Ed lifts his automail arm up over his head. “You know guys, it’s like... we try so hard to grasp the truth, but it always slips away. Now that we finally have caught it... turns out the truth is too dangerous to hold.” He covers his eyes with that same cool metal. “I’m starting to think that god has a special way of torturing those who commit the taboo. I wonder if... if it’ll be like this all our lives.”

Creak.

Creak.

“You know Al,” he continues after a moment. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now. I guess I’ve been too afraid to say it.” Your eye rolls up to the ceiling and you pause your incessant scratching at your leg. He’s really going to say it?

Creak.

“What?” Al urges.

Ed takes a breath. “...I—”

He’s cut off by a sudden pounding on the door—one that causes you to leap nearly out of your skin. “Elric brothers!” a voice roars demandingly, causing Ed to bolt into a sitting position. “Echo! I know you’re in there! Open up! This is the Major!”

You all stare at the door. “What do we do?”

“We ignore him, that’s what.”

But that plan is for naught, as the impressively-muscled (and ever-sparkly) man breaks down the door. Behind him stand Ross and Brosch, looking traumatized.

“I know what it said, my young ones!” Armstrong roars, causing all three of you to scream. Tears shoot from the giant man’s eyes, as he goes off on another of his famous, emotionally-driven rants. “How tragic! To think that the Philosopher's Stone is built on such a terrible secret!!!”

Glares are shot toward the two soldiers, who have the nerve to look sheepish.

“We’re sorry.”

“It’s hard to keep quiet when someone like him asks!”

Three sparkles float in the air around Armstrong’s head. “How awful to think that the military could be behind something like this,” he sobs. “The truth is more truthful than we bargained for.”

Ed freezes. “The truth...?”

“What is it, brother?”

“Do you remember what Doctor Marcoh said at the station?”

...Look closely... maybe you’ll find the truth hidden within the truth...

Ed puts a thumb on his chin. “I didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about then, but now...! It’s the same as with alchemical notes. What you can see on the surface is only a portion of the truth!”

You grit your teeth. “So there’s more.” You groan. “Of course there’s more.”

Flicking on the lights, Armstrong drops a map off on the table in your hotel room. “Currently, there are four operational alchemy laboratories that have connections to the government. We can narrow it down even further. Marcoh worked in the Third Laboratory; we should start with that one—it’s the most suspect.” He points it out on the map.

You lean in closer to the map, examining it carefully. “The boys and I have been to all the laboratories in the city,” you muse. “None were doing anything remarkable...huh?” The last comes as you spot something on the map that doesn’t add up. You point it out immediately. “The Fifth Laboratory?” you question. “Why is it crossed out?”

“It was designed to be another laboratory,” Ross explains. “But it’s not currently in use. The building isn't structurally sound, so it’s been classified as ‘off-limits’.”

A dent forms between your brows. You glance at Ed, sitting beside you, from the corner of your eye. He catches your gaze and gives a small nod—you’re thinking the same thing.

“It’s there.”

Brosch leans in. “Huh? But how can you be so sure?”

Your finger glides over, landing on another building. “There’s a prison right next door,” you explain.

“Okay, so?”

You roll your eye impatiently. “What’s the main ingredient for a Philosopher's Stone?”

Brosch leans back. “You said it needed live humans...eugh!”

“There’d be plenty of criminals in the prison,” Ed explains. “Officially, they’d be classified as ‘executed’.”

Ross looks like she’s going to be sick. “They’re using the prisoners to make the Stones.”

“Don’t look at us like that!” you say defensively. “We don’t like talking about this any more than you do!”

“Prisoners from other jurisdictions could be used, too,” Al says. “I wonder if the government is involved.”

Ross groans. “Why do I have the feeling that we’re getting involved in something really dangerous here?”

Al would roll his eyes if he could. “That’s why we told you to pretend you never heard anything!” he gushes.

The Major rolls up the map and starts for the door. “This has the potential to become a political nightmare before long,” he says. “I’ll look into what we’ve talked about tonight. In the meantime, officers, speak of this to no one.”

Ross and Brosch salute. “Sir!”

Armstrong turns to you and the brothers. “And you, children: behave yourselves!” His words are menacing, and as if on queue, the three of you flinch.

Your reaction does not go unnoticed, and the large man starts fuming. He towers over you and the boys, fist shaking in threat. “I know you three!” he rages. His eyes glow red. “You were thinking of sneaking into this building and taking a look around, weren’t you?! Admit it!!!”

You all hold up your hands, feigning innocence. You shake your heads vehemently.

“No!”

“No, we weren’t!”

“Of course not!”

“No way!”

“We promise!”

Your voices jumble together, and finally, the Major lets it go.

※※※

But, later that night, you and the boys creep about the city streets, headed toward the Fifth Laboratory. “Yeah, sure we weren’t,” Ed mutters.

You shush him and lean around a corner to peer at the entrance to the building. A lone lamp overhead pools a yellow glow on the ground, illuminating a bored-looking guard standing before the door. “Hah,” you remark, leaning back behind the wall. “A guard posted at a ‘vacant’ building? Seems a little...fishy, no?”

“This is suspicious,” Al agrees. “How do we get in?”

Ed examines the weathered stone wall at your backs. “We could make our own entrance,” he suggests.

You shake your head. “No. The guard would notice the sound, if not the light. Maybe I could make a smokescreen...?” You purse your lips, and then shake your head again. “No; we can’t do that either. Same reasons.” You growl, racking your brain for an idea.

Your head tips back and a gleam at the top of the wall catches your eye. Barbed wire...? “Hey Al,” you say, poking Ed in the chest and pointing up to show him the wire. “Give Ed and I a lift up, will ya?”

Al laces his gloved fingers together, making a platform for you to place your foot. Once you’re there, he sends you catapulting up to the top of the wall.

You catch the edge of it with one hand and pull yourself up, almost slipping off as you do so. Within a few moments, you and Ed are perched on the top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge.

From this high up, you can see the whole city.

Using metal hands so you don’t cut yourselves, you and Ed unwind the barbed wire, passing it down to Al like a rope.

He tugs on it a few times to make sure its stable before climbing up the wall. As he reaches the top, you fling yourself the other side, landing on the grass below with a soft thud. Pain flares up in your ankles at the impact, and you stumble forward a few steps when you stand.

Glancing around to make sure there’s nobody there, the three of you dart forward silently.

In addition to the guard at the outer wall, the door to the lab itself is all boarded up, done so thoroughly that it would be impossible to uncover it.

Ed crosses his arms over his chest. “They’re not taking any chances, are they?” He cups his chin in one hand, glancing around. “Hey...”

He points out a small air-duct exhaust tunnel high up on the wall, a flimsy metal grate over the opening.

Al hoists the two of you up on his shoulders and Ed works the grate free and drops it to the grass. He places his hand on the boy’s helmet. “Echo and I are going to check this out. You’re going to have to wait here.”

“You two will be fine on your own?”

Ed begins squeezing through the opening, his legs still dangling out. “Whether we’ll be fine on our own isn’t really the issue,” he calls back, his voice sounding tinny from the echo-y tunnel. “You’re too big to get through here.” And then he crawls into the tunnel.

Al pouts (sort of), looking dejected. “It’s not like I asked to get this big!” he mumbles.

You pat his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, buddy,” you soothe, adjusting yourself so that you’ll fit through the tunnel. “You’re not that big. Ed’s views are just a little skewed.” You let your voice drop to a whisper. “You know, ‘cause he’s so little.”

Ed’s voice rings out from air-duct. “I HEARD THAT, YOU BRAT!!!”

You let out a chuckle and worm your way into the duct. “Well,” you call back, “wish us luck!”

※※※

Pretty soon, you catch up to Ed. It’s dark inside the tunnel, and hot. The walls send every sound bouncing back at you from all sides, which is very disconcerting.

“Damn,” Ed hisses. “It’s even tighter in here than I thought.”

A wicked grin twists your face. “That’s what he said.”

Ed lets out a strangled choking sound that sends you bursting into peals of laughter. He splutters for a response. “Oh my—I can’t even—why would you—It’s really not that funny!!”

“Yes—it—is!” you choke out between breaths.

You can hear Ed gritting his teeth as your laughter subsides. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “all I’m saying is that we wouldn’t be able to fit in here if we were regular-sized. It’s lucky we’re pretty small.”

His words only serve to set you off again. “You’re not helping your case here!” you squeal, relishing in the way he stammers awkwardly.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” he protests. “And I’ll inform you that I’m perfectly—!” he stops, and you can just picture his red face in your mind. “Never mind! Since when do you even make jokes like that?! And—” he stops again. “NO!” he yells suddenly, startling you so bad that your laughter ends abruptly. “I JUST CALLED MYSELF A TINY LITTLE PIPSQUEAK!!!”

You begin to wonder if there are any negative effects to copious amounts of laughter.

After a while of crawling (now in silence), you can’t help but notice that damn, Ed’s butt looks really good in leather pants.

The instant the thought crosses your mind, your face first goes totally pale, and then red-hot in blush. You jerk violently, head slamming into the ceiling.

Ed stops in front of you, and you bury your burning face in your hands. “Echo?” he calls back. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” you call back, aiming for a natural tone but receiving one far too pitchy to ever be considered normal. You let out a breathy chuckle. “No, yeah! Of course! I’m totally fine. Never been better!”

What the actual fuck, Echo?! you scold yourself internally. Why? Why would you even look there?! I—no! I don’t care if it was right in front of you; that doesn’t mean that you have to look!!! You give yourself a mental groan. I’m never going to be able to un-think that, either...

Ed seems doubtful. “Are you sure that you’re okay?” he responds. “You’re not suddenly claustrophobic or anything, right?” His voice carries a teasing lilt.

“Who, me?” you stutter, chuckling nervously. “No! No, of course not. Pssh, yeah right! I’m fine. Totally fine. Downright peachy, in fact!”

You are such a fucking dumbass, you inform yourself. You are actually a fucking dumbass. I can’t believe you said that. Not to mention your wonderful ability to “play it cool”. Way to fucking go, Echo! No, really! You should win a fucking prize! “And the ‘Most Awkward Tsundere’ award goes to...Echo Slade!"

※※※

After a time, Ed punches out a grate in the base of the tunnel, and the two of you drop out of the hole it leaves behind. You bend your knees deeply when you land, but your ankles still prickle in protest.

A few florescent lights lining the base of the walls emit a low buzzing sound, like an annoying mosquito.

“There are lights on,” Ed points out. “‘Not currently in use’...who are they trying to fool?”

You smirk. “This is it, alright!” you agree. You tug on his sleeve. “You ready for this?”

He grabs your flesh hand in his, and it takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to turn red. “Baby, I was born ready!” he says, tugging you down the hall at a sprint, hands still clasped between you.

You run after him, now unable to keep the blush off your cheeks. After your lovely...observation in the air-duct, too... The memory makes your cheeks darken considerably.

Ed glances back, a cocky grin on his face, and he catches your blush, causing him to laugh.

Your mouth opens, closes, then opens again as you flounder for something to say. Finally, you settle on, “Don’t call me baby.”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

You and Ed stand at the base of the huge transmutation circle painted on the floor of the Laboratory. A small pillar rises from the center of it, a simpler circle drawn on its face.

Remnants of dried blood still encrust a few of the circle’s points.

“What is all this?” Ed wonders aloud.

You gaze at the circle warily. “Probably how they transmute a Philosopher's Stone,” you reply.

“Yes.” A low voice drawls out of the darkness, the echoing nature of the room making it impossible to tell from where. “That’s right.” A large armored figure slowly steps from the shadows at the far end of the room. “I don’t know who you are, kid, but you sure figured out a lot just by looking at a transmutation circle.”

You peer at the approaching figure blandly. “Yeah,” you reply, “I’ve been told I’m pretty quick. Now, who the fuck are you, pal?”

“The one in charge of guarding this place from curious brats.” His sentence ends there, but the implied like you hangs heavy in the air, grating at your nerves. “For the time being, let’s just say that my name is Number 48.” As he speaks, he continues walking toward you and Ed. As he approaches, you can see that he has a massive sword in one hand, hanging lazily at his side. “And believe me,” he adds warningly; “I am not your ‘pal’. My orders are to dispose of anyone who wanders in here, poking their noses where they don’t belong. Try not to take it personally, punk.”

You sneer at him. “Don’t worry; we won’t.” Together, you and Ed clap your hands. Ed sharpens the top of his automail into a blade, and you turn the ground beneath you first into to dust, and then into a solid black scythe, which you grip tightly in both hands. “Just don’t you take it personally when these two ‘punks’ kick your ass from here to Briggs!”

The man seems unimpressed by your displays. “So you’re alchemists, are you?” he hums. Suddenly, he lunges at the two of you, so fast that he is a blur. In an instant, he’s in front of you, leaning his large helmeted head at your level. “Alright, then—let’s see what you two have got!”

He swings his sword with lighting speed, and you hardly have time to go limp, collapsing to the floor to avoid being sliced in half while simultaneously contorting so you don’t impale yourself on your own weapon.

Back pressed to the ground, automail arm pinned beneath you along with your scythe, the man’s figure looms above you. He raises his sword over his head and brings it down, hard and fast. You raise up one leg and kick the hilt of his sword away as hard as you can. The force of your kick sends the blow to one side, but he moves with the momentum, spinning around and going in for another overhead hit.

This time, you don’t have time to block or dodge, and time slows down. You squeeze your eye shut and wait for the ending blow.

At least I go down fighting.

But then there is a metallic CLANG and the impact never hits. Opening your eye, you see Ed above you, struggling with the force of the attacker’s blade against his metal arm.

Heart racing, you leap to your feet, swinging your scythe toward Number 48’s ribs. The man leaps back, causing Ed to stumble as the pressure he was straining against suddenly vanishes. Grunting, you have to kick the pole of your weapon down to avoid stabbing him, otherwise unable to stop the momentum.

“A prosthetic arm, huh?” the man jeers, darting forward. You can only assume that the question is directed toward Ed. Considering how you make no effort to hide your automail, unlike the blonde, who wears a coat and gloves to conceal his own, it would be a bit redundant to question whether your arm is fake. “No matter. My sword can pierce steel as well as flesh!”

He strikes out hard at the still-off-balance Ed, who just manages to catch the blade against his arm before he is decapitated.

Taking advantage of his distraction, you push up hard off the ground, raising your weapon in the air and slashing it down in a deadly arc. Just before the hit can land, however, Number 48 disappears. Again, you come close to nearly killing Ed yourself.

A few more attacks are exchanged, the roles of offense and defense being constantly shifted, and then Ed lands a solid kick that sends the man stumbling backward.

Ed grins madly. “My, my, what’s this?” He gestures toward the man. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you’re hollow inside!”

His words cause both Number 48 and yourself to falter. “You’re a perceptive one,” the man says carefully, lowering his sword slightly.

“I could tell by the sound,” Ed explains, and you remind yourself to retake a ready stance. “I spar against someone like you all the time.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “So there are people like me on the outside too, are there? That’s... surprising.”

Ed smirks. “Yeah, it makes me sick.”

Shocked, you feel your mouth fall open as you cut your eye sideways. “Ed—!”

But he continues on as if you haven’t spoken. “To think, there's more than one idiot in the world who came up with the brilliant idea of bonding a disembodied soul to a suit of armor.”

“Hmm.” The man lowers his sword further. “Perhaps I should introduce myself again. 48 is the number I was assigned when I was on death row. Back when I still had a living body, I was better known as Slicer. I was a mass murderer, you see.”

A comment bubbles up on your tongue, but you decide to bite it back, not exceptionally eager to renew the fight.

“So you were slated for execution,” Ed muses aloud. “Tell me something, then. This laboratory; are they using condemned prisoners like you to make Philosopher's Stones here?”

“Well, I can’t tell you,” Slicer admits. “It isn’t my area. They simply recognized my... skills, gave me this body, and made me their trusty guard dog.” He spits the last two words like a curse.

“Interesting,” Ed mutters. “I’m sure they gave you a seal, too. To serve as a medium, between soul and armor?”

Slicer pauses before lifting a hand to the cloth covering where his mouth would be. “Yes,” he divulges, tugging the cloth away. “I have a blood seal.” He lifts up his faceplate, revealing the marking on the inside of his helmet. “This is it, right here. If you destroy this, the fight’s yours.”

You narrow your eye at him. “You must be either very considerate or very stupid, showing us your weak spot like that.”

“I like to give myself a little extra challenge during a fight now and then,” the man replies.

You smirk. “As long as you’re in such a giving mood, how about this: why don’t you just... let us go?”

Slicer does not look impressed as he lowers his faceplate again. “Nice try, kid, but what kind of mass murderer lets his prey get away so easily?” He takes up the hilt of his sword in both hands. “Now: let’s fight!”

You and Ed ready your weapons before charging at the man simultaneously. As Ed shoves the hollow man’s sword down, you swing your scythe at the chink in the armored leg where the knee would bend, hoping to slice it off, but he dodges, striking out at you with his blade. You block the attack and Ed goes on the offensive. He lashes out at the man but then checks the blow halfway there, stiffening his arm and ending the strike.

Slicer takes advantage of Ed’s odd non-attack, kicking you so hard in the chest that the air exits your lungs in a whoosh, sending you sailing backward and crashing into a pillar. You hear something crack and a blinding pain flares up in your ribs.

Slicer swings his sword at Ed’s head. Again, the boy makes no move to defend himself, instead ducking backward under the attack. He flips backward with one hand, ducking and spinning to avoid the man’s blows.

Crouched on the ground, clutching your side with one arm, you struggle to breathe, while at the same time trying to avoid moving your torso, which burns with a fierce, blazing pain.

You notice how Ed is favoring his normal arm, and suddenly, Winry’s voice pipes up in your head.

...I increased the percentage of chrome, so it’s less prone to rusting, but it’s not as strong, so don’t try anything crazy!...

Great. So you have some broken ribs and some jammed automail against a nearly-invincible, animated suit of armor with a sword. Those are great odds; you’d totally bet on them any time.

You attempt to rise to your feet, only making it about halfway before your legs give out. Gritting your teeth, you watch Ed leap and spin. Blood spurts up from his flesh shoulder as he fails to dodge an attack.

As his back hits a wall, you struggle to rise again. You attempt to shut your mind off from the pain. Letting the adrenaline coursing through your body be your fuel, you stand up, grabbing your scythe and staggering forward. Using one arm, you thrust the blade toward the joint of the armored shoulder, but without the other hand as a base, your grip is wobbly at best. The attack lands, but without nearly enough force behind it to dismember.

Slicer turns away from Ed, who rolls away from the wall and dashes toward the armor. He jumps, aiming a kick at the helmet, but the man raises an arm to block him, lashing out at you with the other. He hits you hard in the face with the flat of his blade, and you go flying again.

You lift your head weakly to see Ed on the floor. Slicer plants his sword in the ground, resting his hands on top of the hilt. “What cute little monkeys,” he mocks.

Ed lurches forward. “WHO’RE YOU CALLING ‘LITTLE’?!” he demands furiously.

Slicer tips his head back and laughs. “Oh, it’s been too long since I’ve had prey worth hunting,” he declares, drawing his sword back out of the ground. “What a pity it is that you two won’t last much longer... Right about now, my partner should be finishing off the companion you left outside.”

Ed tenses. “This partner of yours,” he says carefully. “Is he strong?”

Slicer examines Ed closely, as if expecting a trick. “Yes,” he says finally. “He is. He isn’t as strong as I am, though.”

Ed starts laughing, and you worry that he hit his head a little too hard. Shoulders shaking, he hauls himself up off the ground. “In that case...” he says lightly, “I've got no need to worry!” He smirks at Slicer. “See, we’ve been sparring partners a long time, and I’ve still never beaten him!”

The man tightens his grip on his sword. “Your brother is that good, is he?” he hums. “Then I’d like to hurry up and defeat you two, so I can go take care of him.”

The grin never leaves Ed’s face as his eyes cut sideways. Suddenly, he shouts, “Go, Alphonse! Do it now!”

Slicer’s head whips to the side. “What—?” He readies his sword for an oncoming attack.

Ed takes full advantage of his distraction, rushing at the armor with a roar. Too late, Slicer registers the trick, turning to slash at the boy even as Ed slices the head right off the rest of the hollow, armored body.

As the helmet flies through the air, Slicer’s disembodied voice rings out from it. “That was dirty!” he cries, indignant.

“There’s no such thing as ‘dirty’ in a fight!” Ed snarls.

The empty armor hits the ground with a clang, the head falling several feet away. Grimacing, Ed claps his hand, transmuting his sword-arm back into regular automail. As he dashes over to your side to help you to your feet, slinging your arm around his shoulders, Slicer calls out to him, sounding almost like he’s pouting. “What’s the matter? You still haven’t destroyed the blood seal I so kindly pointed out. Are you going to or not?”

Ed leads you over to the helmet, letting you lean on him as he picks up the hollow metal head and holds it aloft, examining it balefully. “There’s something I need to ask you about first,” he says.

“The Philosopher's Stone?” Slicer guesses.

“Yes. Tell me everything you know about it.”

“Sorry,” Slicer says, though he is clearly not. “Can’t.”

Ed smirks. “Hey now,” he lilts warningly, “tell me! We did beat you at your own game!”

Slicer’s eyes seem to darken. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he says lowly. “I’m not beaten yet.”

The only warning of the oncoming attack is a soft metal clinking sound behind you and Ed. Whirling around, breath leaving you in a whoosh as your rib screams in protest, you see the helmless body of Slicer’s armor at your back, sword drawn back for a blow. You don’t have time to question how this is possible. You fling yourself onto Ed and send him stumbling back, and Slicer gifts him with a simple gash across his side rather than a blade through his guts.

“Pesky girl,” Slicer growls from the helmet on the ground. “Always getting in the way.” The body draws back a foot that connects with your side hard. Blood dribbles out of the corner of your mouth as you go sliding across the ground, crashing into a pillar.

You feel something in your ribs snap again, on the same side, and you prepare for the blackout-worthy pain, but instead, you feel almost...better, oddly enough. That’s not to say that it still doesn’t hurt like a bitch—because it does—but it’s bearable now. It’s as if his kick reset the bones in place.

“Now,” the head drawls from across the room. “I forgot to mention something about this mass-murderer Slicer.”

The armor raises one arm nonchalantly, and a different voice rings out from inside. “His crimes were really committed by a pair of brothers!”

Ed grips his bleeding side and glowers at the armor. “An independent head and body?” he growls. “That’s a dirty trick!”

“Now, now,” Slicer chastens him. “Weren’t you the one who said that there’s no such thing as dirty in a fight?”

“Are you ready?” the other voice taunts. “Round two is about to begin, short-stuff!”

“Don’t call me short!” Ed snarls, bringing his hands up to clap, but Slicer lunges forward faster than you can blink, swinging his sword with a wild yet deadly precision.

“I don’t think so!” he roars. “I’m not going to give you time to transmute!”

Ed dodges the blow, but you can see him wobble. He’s lost too much blood, you realize, taking in the thick red liquid that runs down his face, his arm, his body, his legs.

All of a sudden, Slicer swings his arms around, catching Ed hard with the flat of his blade, sending him crashing into you where you struggle to rise up from the floor. The impact of his body against yours is jarring, and your head cracks against the floor so hard that you see stars.

Nonetheless, you shove Ed off of you, shielding his body with your own as Slicer darts forward, sword held at the ready. You and him are both reeling, and you know you’re about to die.

You feel Ed wrap his arms around your waist from behind you, and he shouts your name.

Determination flares up in you, and you realize suddenly that, fuck no, you’re not going to die. Because if you die, then who’s going to take care of this idiot behind you?

This will not be a final embrace.

So you summon up all of the strength left in your limbs—strength you didn’t even know you still had—and, grimacing, you raise yourself up on your knees. Blood streams from your nose, dribbling a hot trail over your lips and down your chin, staining your black shirt even darker. You’re pretty sure that your legs will need stitches—every scab has been ripped wide open. More blood streams from a cut on your temple, dripping into your eye and making it hard to see. Struggling, you clap your hands to the ground, raising up a cloud of thick black dust. Concentrating hard, you send it whooshing toward Slicer, directing it straight into his armor and straight into the helmet on the floor, filling the space with the fog and blocking their vision. You consolidate it right at the body’s waist and set it to explode.

The particles shoot apart into every direction, and the force of it rips Slicer’s armor right in half. His torso falls one way and his legs fall the other. His sword clatters uselessly to the ground. You are careful to keep the dust still clustered inside the helmet, gathered closely right at the seal just in case he gets any funny ideas.

Breathing hard, you spin around, struggling to pull Ed’s jacket off of his shoulders and pushing up his shirt so you can see the wound on his side. It is short but deep, and blood pulses from it freely.

You bite your lip as you look up into Ed’s eyes. Their beautiful golden color is now dull and somewhat hazy, but he still manages a weak grin. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he guesses, even as you shake your head vehemently and press his balled-up jacket over the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Both of you jump out of your skin as Slicer’s arms start flailing wildly from the floor. “How could you, you little brat?!” he screams.

“Quit wiggling!” you squeal, edging back while maintaining a steady pressure of Ed’s side. “It’s fucking creepy!”

“Brother!” the body calls out.

Slicer’s head is still sitting where Ed dropped it before. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he groans, “we’ve lost.”

Ed groans and grabs your wrist, attempting to pull you back, but you push down harder. “You’re not gonna tell us that you’re three brothers, are you?” he growls.

“No, no,” the body groans. At the same time, Slicer lets out a sigh. “Come on, then,” he urges. “You’ve won. Now, destroy us.”

You scowl furiously. “No way!”

“Yeah,” Ed agrees. “We’re not murderers.”

Slicer’s tone sharpens. “With bodies like these, are we really even people?”

Ed’s gaze darkens. “We consider you people whether you have physical bodies or not,” he murmurs. “If we didn’t, that would mean that we didn’t consider our own brother a person, either.” He gazes at Slicer’s head, dull gold against glowing red. “I know my brother is a human being. That means that you guys are human, too. And we will not take the life of another person.”

Much to your surprise, Slicer starts laughing. “My brother and I have been lying, stealing, cheating, and killing people together for as long as we can remember!” he muses. “And now that we’re in these pseudo-bodies, we’re being treated like people for the first time! Don’t you see the irony?” His eyes shine. “For that, lovebirds, I’ll give you a parting gift.”

You twitch at his use of the word lovebirds, but remain silent, wanting to hear what he has to say.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he continues. You consider abandoning the smoky-equivalent of a finger pressed against his blood seal, but decide to keep it there, just in case. “I’ll tell you who made the Philosopher's Stone, and who instructed us to guard this place.”

Just as he starts to speak, though, you see long, shadowy fingers shoot from the darkness, toward you, Slicer, and Ed. You panic, pressing down harder against Slicer’s seal just as two of the fingers slip underneath the helmet.

They scoop the helm into the air, dragging it through the open space next to a woman who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She has thick, wavy dark hair that cascades over her bare shoulders. Her thin lips are painted bright red, and her eyes are a cold, hard black. She wears a floor-length, figure-hugging dress that is an odd shade somewhere between black, red, and brown. It is strapless and very low-cut, drawing attention to her extremely generous... assets. She wears a pair of long gloves that match, and she has an odd tattoo on one side of her chest.

She lets out a sultry smirk and appraises the helmet in her hand. “Well,” she drawls huskily, “that was a close one! Number 48, you should know better than to talk about things that don’t concern you!”

Will a jolt, you realize that there is no response from the helmet—primarily because of the smudged blood seal.

Your blood runs cold as you realize that it might have been you who did that.

You may have killed a man today, despite all you ever said. And the worst part is that you don’t even know. It could have been you, but it could also have been this woman.

But it could have been you.

You’re shaking as another figure steps out from behind the woman. They are androgynous, with long, spiky black-green hair that tumbles out from under a black headband at their temple, a triangle etched in red on the fabric. Their muscles are well-defined, their face angular, and their eyes a light shade of purple. They wear a silk shirt that hugs them from their neck to the bottom of their ribs, leaving their arms and stomach bare. A skirt of sorts covers their bottom half, made of the same material, ending at about mid-thigh and revealing a pair of leggings underneath, only about an inch longer. Black wrappings cover their wrists and palms, as well as ankles and the middle of their feet, leaving fingers, toes, and heels free.

They put their hands on their hips. “Well, well, would you look at that!” they say, their voice giving no clues as to their gender. “What’s the Fullmetal Pipsqueak doing here? And is that Chibi-chan I see?”

You’re too dazed to even care that they called you chibi. I might have killed him. I think I killed him. I killed him. Oh god, please, no, I’m sorry! I—!

“Such troublesome children,” the woman murmurs. “How did you find out about this place?”

Slicer’s body seems to realize that something is wrong. “Brother?” he calls. “Brother?! Brother!!!”

The woman sneers, dropping the lifeless helmet to the ground. Her fingers shoot out, extending unnaturally and sharpening into deadly points at the ends. She skewers the blood seal of the armor, still shrieking, lying on the ground. She purses her blood-red lips, pulling back and stabbing again. Then again. And again. “Silence your pathetic blubbering,” she sneers down at the armor. “You were trying to kill some of our most important sacrifices, and I’m afraid that this simply cannot go unpunished. You nearly ruined our whole plan! And what would we have done then?”

Slicer does not respond.

You are shaking as the woman draws back her fingers, looking utterly unfazed by the fact that she just took someone’s life. You’re filled with so many emotions, too many emotions, all rattling around chaotically inside of you, bruising you, berating you. Guilt, rage, fear, dread, sadness, pain... when you combine that with a bleeding, battered, broken body, then it’s all but unbearable.

The two approach you and Ed where you sit crouched against the pillar. You can see that the androgynous one has the same tattoo as the woman, but instead of it being on their chest, it’s on their outer thigh.

You hear Ed’s ragged breathing behind you, and all you want to do is shut down and cry, because right now, it’s all too much. Too much pain and too little time, too much emotion in a too little body, and too much tension in too little space.

But you bite down on the inside of your cheek, so hard that you taste blood. You force your emotions down, down, down, until they shut off completely, leaving you hollow inside—like Al. You struggle to your feet, assuming a defensive position in front of the blonde boy on the ground. You grit your teeth, going on autopilot, because you need to stay strong for Ed. For him, if nothing else.

You eye them both carefully, the muscles in your back twitching with pain. “You’re going to tell me who you people are,” you growl, surprising yourself with how steady your voice is. “And what ‘plan’ are you talking about? Do you really think you're gonna sacrifice us for anything?! ‘Cause I don’t fucking think so!”

The green-haired one leans down until they are only inches from your face. They smell like wind, pain, and something distinctly male, which answers your question about his gender. His nostrils flare, and you feel oddly violated—did he really just smell you?

His eyes are hard with an interested gleam as a smirk slides over his face. He sniffs you again, raising a single eyebrow as if trying to puzzle something out. He searches your one-eyed gaze intrusively; you can’t help but wonder what he sees.

“Well, well!” he remarks in his odd, rasping voice. “Looks like my Chibi’s got some spirit! All set up and raring to go.” His smirk deepens as he leans in even closer—way closer than you’re comfortable with. Still, though, you refuse to recoil. He’s testing you, and you know it. “She’s kind of cute, actually. Lust, can we keep her?”

Your lips pull back in a snarl. “I’m not your anything,” you snap hotly. “And don’t fucking call me Chibi.”

The purple-eyed man leans closer still. His nose brushes yours, and his breath stirs your hair. If you tilted your chin up, you’d be kissing.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he says conspiratorially, his eyes narrowing in a challenge. “You are mine.” He pauses. “Chibi.”

Reflexively, your fist shoots out, and the man (boy? teen?) arches his back sharply, laughing, avoiding the blow. He takes a few steps backward to regain his balance. You remain where you are, standing protectively in front of Ed, fists clenched, gritting your teeth against pain and emotion at the same time. “Fucker!” you spit.

“That looked like it hurt,” the man says slyly, smirking. “Your legs, right? You should be more careful. You smell like blood—you must be pretty cut up down there, huh?”

Your breath freezes in your lungs as you think about all of the scars and scabbed cuts adorning your thighs. He doesn’t mean... how could he possibly know about that?! you panic. You struggle to come up with a response, and Ed steps up next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You leave her alone, you creep!” he demands. “Now, start talking!”

The man chuckles again. “Whoa now!” he purrs. “There’s no need to fight here!” He grins wolfishly. “Someone might get hurt, you know!”

The woman—Lust?—chuckles from where she stands behind the purple-eyed man. Ed’s eyes snap to her and darken with hatred. “This is a fight that you started!” He lifts his hands to clap, but there is a sharp creak and then a loud POP, and his automail arm hangs loosely at his side.

“Goddamn technical difficulties!” you swear under your breath. You raise your own hands, ready to transmute, but before they can connect, you’re being pushed against the stone pillar.

You let out a growl mixed in with a bark of pain, looking up to see Lust pressing her body against yours, keeping you in place. She smirks down at you, cupping your cheek tenderly with one hand. She presses her, ah... assets... more firmly into you, clearly reveling in the way you blush bright red.

You struggle to push her off of you even as her hand creeps slowly up the inside of your jean-clad thigh, but she is much, much stronger than she looks. “Such a troublesome child,” she purrs, pressing her pointed nail sharply against your cheek.

You eye her warily, disliking where her hand is headed. “Get off of me, you bitch!” you snarl.

Her finger digs into your face, drawing blood. It trickles down in a hot, thin line. She leans her face in close to yours, until you can feel her hot breath blowing on you softly. Her tongue snakes out, licking the blood from your cheek, and you cringe back, turning your head the other way.

Suddenly, she pulls back, and has you in the air by your throat. You grasp at her hands, reeling from her proximity and the sudden loss of air. You try to kick out at her, but she’s too far away.

Her eyes are cold and hard as she speaks. “Listen to me well, children,” she says in a low voice. You spot Ed collapsed on the floor, eyes closed, unmoving, and for a moment you panic, heart stopping dead in your chest. But then you see his eyelids flickering, and his lips pull back in a grimace. He’s not dead. “Never forget this,” Lust continues, still strangling you. “Always remember that we allowed you to live.”

She lets you go, and you fall hard to the floor. You gasp for air, head spinning, gagging violently. Your vision blurs, and you try to call out for Ed, but your mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Everything starts to go dark just as you hear Lust speak again. “We can’t have them poking around here again, now can we, Envy?” she says. Envy? you wonder. You blearily realize that that must be the man’s name. “It’s too dangerous! It’ll have to go—blow it up.”

※※※

You’re in someone’s arms. They are cold, and it feels good against your battered body.

You want to open your eye and see who is carrying you, but, hard as you try, it stays shut.

You let out a soft sound and snuggle closer to the person, almost passing out again from the pain. Your nose bumps into their hard chest, and you turn, burying your face in it.

Their chest is cold too.

A calloused hand tucks your hair behind one ear, lingering on the side of your neck. Your consciousness slips away again, but you hear the person carrying you mutter, “You really are something else, Chibi-chan.”

※※※

You come to again as the person’s arms slip out from under you. The ground is hard, and you don’t understand why everything is shaking, but you don’t like it.

Weakly, you cling to the person’s shirt with a whimper. Don’t leave.

A cold hand brushes your cheek as you fade away again.

※※※

...Chibi?

※※※

By the time you realize who it was that was holding you, it's too late.

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

“Looks like you can finally sit up now, huh?” Ross says cheerfully. She beams at you and Ed, but you both just glare at her, highly unamused.

“What happened with the Fifth Laboratory?” Ed asks blandly.

“Well...” Brosch hedges awkwardly. “It, um—”

“Somebody blew up the building,” Ross inserts, embarrassed, “and now there’s nothing left of it but rubble?” She trails of at the end, raising her voice as if in question.

Ed facepalms aggressively, his eyebrow twitching as he comes into contact with the thick white bandage wrapped around his head.

Oh, that’s right. Did I forget to mention that you’re in the hospital?

Your bed is in the same room as Ed’s, thankfully. You two had to stay overnight getting patched up. Between the two of you, you had several deep lacerations, three broken ribs, a slight concussion, a fractured wrist, mild internal bleeding, and some malfunctioning automail.

“Damn it!” Ed yells, kicking his legs in frustration. “You mean they wiped out everything?!” He suddenly lets out a wheeze and doubles over, clutching his side in pain. “That didn’t feel good,” he groans. He twitches again. “This isn’t fair!” he whines.

You tug at your papery hospital gown in discomfort. “Do you know how close we were to finding out the truth?!” you moan. “We’re wasting our time sitting here in the fucking hospital!”

Ross and Brosch exchange meaningful glances. Ross crosses the room to stand by your bed, and you look up at her suspiciously.

“We do apologize in advance for this!” both soldiers say simultaneously, standing stiff at attention. And you don’t even have time to flinch before Ross’ hand cracks across your cheek, leaving a sharp, stinging pain behind. Your head snaps to one side and you blink at the wall, beyond bewildered.

What the fuck?!

You open your mouth to speak, still staring at the wall, but Ross’ angry voice cuts you off. “You acted like selfish children!” she snaps hotly. “You only escaped with your lives because you were lucky.” You stare at her, single eye open wide as she cuts her gaze back and forth between you and Ed. Judging by the red mark on his face, he was given the same punishment.

Ross’ voice softens. “You don’t have to do everything by yourselves, you know; you can lean on other people.” Her shoulders slump slightly. “Like us. Not all adults are the enemy. You can trust us.”

You hang your head in silent shame. Little do they know...

“That’s all!” the two shout suddenly and simultaneously, both standing stiff. “Please forgive our abusive words and conduct! It will not happen again!”

You struggle to find the right words, coming up short. You stare at your mismatched hands, limp in your lap, frustrated with your own silence.

You’re thankful when Ed starts to speak. “No,” he says hesitantly. “You’re right. We should be apologizing.” You nod vigorously in agreement.

Ross still stands firm. “Our punishment?” she asks blandly. “For... slapping you?”

Ed looks up at her. “N-nothing!” he stammers.

You nod again, this time managing to control your tongue. “We had it coming, for sure,” you agree.

Both soldiers half-collapse with relief, and Ed sweat-drops in confusion. “Why are you two so scared of us?”

“State-certified alchemists carry a military rank equivalent to that of a Major,” Ross explains, leaning against the wall for support.

“Don’t worry about it!” Ed assures them. “We didn’t get our State certification so people would kiss up to us!”

“You don’t have to talk to us like we’re fancy military people,” you add. “Just... regular people.”

“Really?!” Ross asks, sounding like she almost can’t believe you’re serious. “Oh!”

Brosch chimes in, speaking mostly, it seems, to Ross. “I guess we were scared of the brats for nothing!”

You glare at the wall. Well then! They adjust quickly!! you fume.

“Well, where’s Al?” Ed questions. “We haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Alphonse got his own lecture earlier,” Brosch explains. He holds up a swollen, pulsing red hand, looking chagrined. “But... his slapping hurt me more than him!”

Ed chuckles a little and then wheezes with pain. “I almost forgot!” he says, suddenly going pale. “I’ve got an even less pleasant lecture in store for me today!”

You laugh at him, though inside, you do pity him. Hell hath no fury like a Rockbell scorned. “Quit fucking up your automail, and you won’t have to keep dealing with this shit!” you tease the boy, who gifts you with a venomous glare in return.

※※※

Winry scares the crap out of you when she barges into the hospital room. “What happened?!” she exclaims, dropping her suitcase onto the floor with a loud clang.

You stare at her in the doorway. “How did you get here so fast?!” you wonder aloud. Then you hold up a hand. “Actually, no, wait. Don’t answer that. I doubt I even want to know.”

Ed lets out a pained, nervous chuckle. “You’re gonna charge me an express service fee now, aren’t you?”

Winry is silent for a long moment. She stares at wrapping over Ed’s stomach, over his head. She eyes your bound human wrist, at the large bandage over your face and on your legs. The blonde girl seems to almost shrink a little. “No,” she says sadly. “I-I won’t charge you for this; I didn’t do a good enough job on your automail last time.” She bows her head, hiding her eyes behind her hair. “...And now you’re badly injured,” she adds in a hushed tone.

Everybody stares at Ed, and he glances around, uncomfortable with the weight of seven eyes on him. “I-it’s not your fault!” he stammers, waving his human hand around in the air. “You can’t blame yourself for this! I broke it because I was being reckless! Your repairs were flawless as ever! This is all my fault!!” He adds a nervous, uncomfortable chuckle at the end.

A strange, unpleasant feeling swirls in your gut. It couldn’t be...?

No. You push the thought away, storing it deep in the recesses of your mind to be disposed of.

Ed is still waving his arm around like a madman. “Besides, if my arm hadn’t broken when it did, we would have kept fighting, and then we’d have gotten hurt even worse! So don’t worry about it, ‘kay?”

Winry slowly casts her eyes up. They began to sparkle, and then she dashes forward, squealing gleefully with her arms over her head. You fall backwards on your cot, confused and startled by her sudden change in mood. “Well then,” the girl says energetically; “let’s go ahead and get right down to business, shall we? I’ll have to charge you the usual rush-order fee, of course.” She suddenly casts her eyes sideways to the unopened bottle of milk on Ed’s nightstand. “You didn’t drink your milk,” she accuses.

Ed casts a dark glance over his shoulder. “Why should I?” he mumbles. “I hate it.”

Winry grips her hair dramatically in her hands. “YOU’RE GOING TO BE SMALL AND STUMPY FOREVER IF YOU KEEP USING THAT STUPID EXCUSE!” she screams dramatically.

“SHUT UP!” Ed screams back vengefully. “I DON’T HAVE TO DRINK IT IF I DON’T WANT TO!”

Suddenly, Armstrong is shirtless and looming over Ed. “You sound like a spoiled little brat, Edward Elric!!!” he roars, flexing his bulging muscles.

“Every growing boy needs his milk,” Ross adds, and Brosch adds his agreement.

Meanwhile, you sit on your bed, wondering if you missed some sort of signal that said “everybody gang up on Ed for not drinking milk”. You notice Al peering in through the slightly-open door. Just as you’re about to call out to him, though, he steps back, letting the door shut loudly behind him.

The sound sends everybody into silence. Winry is pinching Ed’s cheek aggressively. “Was that Al?” he mutters, his voice coming out strange due to the stretching of his face.

※※※

“Okay, you’re all set!” Winry announces, running a rag over Ed’s repaired arm.

The boy sits up and moves the limb around to test it. “Well done!” he praises, rolling his shoulder. “It feels good to have it back! Thanks a lot!”

Winry dimples at him. “Sure, no problem!”

The door bursts open suddenly, and an overly-excited Maes Hughes is there. “Yo, Ed, my boy!!” he yells. “Is it true that you brought a pretty blonde girl into your room to service you?!”

Simultaneously, you and Ed topple off of your assigned cots. Ed scrambles upright, kneeling on the floor and glaring daggers at the older man. “She’s my automail mechanic!!” he hollers. “That’s all! Nothing more!”

“Oh, I see!” Maes says thoughtfully, hand on his chin. “You’ve seduced your mechanic, have you?”

Your face is almost as red as your hair. “Mister Hughes!” you shout. “That’s not what he said at all! Were you even listening?! Winry is just—!”

Your cries seem to be ignored as Maes shakes Winry’s hand. “Maes Hughes,” he introduces himself. “I’m pleased to meet you, young lady!”

“Here too,” Winry says, seeming a bit... hesitant. “I’m Winry Rockbell.”

Ed slithers back onto his bed, but you’re quite content to remain on the floor, back pressed against the metal railing at the foot of your cot. “Nice to see you again, Hughes,” Ed says, “but... don’t you have work to do?”

Maes holds out a hand to stop him. “Nope,” he says cheerfully. “It’s all under control.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “I gave Sheska some overtime.”

You gaze at the man, your eye half-lidded in bemusement. “You’re a real jerk, aren’t you?” you say playfully.

“Yeah,” Maes agrees, “and I think you’ll be happy to know that I just found out that you and the boys shouldn’t need to be kept under guard for too much longer.”

Winry’s eyes widen. “What did you say?” she breathes, looking startled. Her eyes sharpen into a glare and she leans over you threateningly. “Hold on just a second!” she says shrilly. You cower slightly as she places her hands on her hips and deepens her glare. “How much trouble have you gotten yourselves into this time?!”

“Well, ah, so, um... yeah, well, you see...” You stammer, struggling to find an explanation and coming up short. You take a deep, steadying breath and coat your next words in a layer of ice. “It’s none of your business,” you say coldly.

She glares at you for another few moments as if daring you to crack, but you hold strong. She leans back. “Of course not,” she says, sounding offended. You have to try hard not to cringe. It's the only way you can protect her, you remind yourself. “I don’t even know why I bother. It’s not like you guys even talk to me, anyway!” She grabs her toolbox off of the floor. “Fine,” she says dejectedly. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I have to go see if I can find some place to stay tonight.”

“Come on,” Maes says. “No need for that! Why don’t you spend the night at my place?”

“...Really?”

“Yes, of course! My wife and daughter will be delighted to have you!” Winry begins to protest, but Maes cuts her off. “It’s settled!” he cheers. “Come on! Here, let me take that—!” He grabs her bag and then drags a very confused-looking Winry away by the collar of her shirt.

※※※

Ed casts a hateful glare at the milk on his tray. “So...” he snarls. “We meet again, you little bastard! I’m not gonna drink you!”

“Brother...” Al’s voice is hollow—or, well...more so than usual. “You have a living body that needs nourishment. You have to drink it.”

Ed takes a large bite out of his dinner roll. “I don’t have to if I don’t want to!” he protests, sounding like a stubborn child. “I may not look it, but I have grown some! But everyone still calls me a pipsqueak!” He glares at the wall. “I wish I was like you, Al,” he blurts suddenly, causing you to jump.

Al stiffens and the door slowly opens. Winry peeks her head in the crack, but Ed keeps on talking, oblivious. “You’ve got such a big body now!”

“Ed...” you begin, but Alphonse cuts you off.

The armored boy jerks to his feet, the motion so sudden and violent that he sends his stool crashing into the wall behind him. “It’s not like I asked for this body, brother!” he screams, causing everyone present to flinch.

Ed looks ashamed. “S-sorry,” he stammers. “You’re right. It’s my fault that it happened. But I... I’ll make it right!” His voice begins to shake. “I’ll get you your body back, I promise! I—!”

“That’s what you always say!” Alphonse retorts. “But you don’t know that for sure!”

You step in, trying to deescalate the situation before it gets too out of hand. “Look, Al,” you say, attempting a soothing tone, “I promise that we’re going to get you back. I can’t promise when, but believe me, Al, we’ll do it!”

“Believe you?!” Al says the word like it is blasphemous. “How am I supposed to believe anything when I’m stuck in this body?! What should I believe in, my memories? Memories are just scraps of information that can be made up as easily as anything else!”

Ed looks stricken. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Do you remember when you said there was something you were afraid to tell me?” Al demands. “I think...” His voice softens. “I think I might know what it was! Maybe you wanted to say that my soul and my memories are really artificial constructions you and her created!” He pointed to you on the word her, apparently too disgusted with you to even say your name.

His words hit you like a punch in the chest.

No, harder, actually. They hit you much, much harder.

Al stares at a shaking gauntlet. “The two of you... Winry... Granny...” he says shakily. “You’ve been lying to me all along, haven’t you? What do you have to say for yourselves?!”

Ed’s hands slam down on his tray with a deafening crash, and a sudden hush falls over the room. His voice comes out in a whispered, broken hush. “Is that what you really think?” he breathes, his quiet tone barely masking his rage. “Is that what you’ve believed all this time?” He’s shaking, his back bent in a taut arc, fists clenched so tight that the knuckles on his flesh hand are white. “Are you finished? Or is there more that you wanted to say?”

There is a long silence. You bring your legs up to your chest and rest your forehead on one knee, fighting against your own sharp tongue, which is begging to be let loose on the younger boy you see as your brother. You wrap your arms around yourself, dragging your nails down savagely against your thigh. You feel stitching rip open and blood starts to flow sluggishly, kept from sight by the tightly-wrapped bandages hidden under your hospital gown.

Finally, Ed pushes his tray away slightly. “Okay,” he says, still hushed, but in an unreadable tone. He rises to his feet and walks slowly and seemingly-calmly out the door. Just as he turns the corner, Winry breaks the silence.

“Don’t go!” she begins. When the boy gives no response but to keep walking, she leans out the doorway. “Ed—!”

You grab her arm tightly in a cold metal grip, causing her to jump. She hadn’t heard you cross the room, it seems. “Leave it,” you growl lowly.

Shooting a parting, venomous glare at the suit of armor that had fallen silent at the blonde boy’s outburst, you stalk out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

※※※

You find Ed on the roof. His back is to you, arms folded over the railing that lines the edge. His blonde ponytail waves in the wind.

You pad over to him, your bare feet scuffing against the concrete flooring, and stop when you’re a few feet away. “I’m sorry,” you say uselessly.

Silence.

“He doesn’t mean it,” you continue, trying to convince yourself as well as him. “Something must have happened that made him...” You trail off as Ed turns around, lifting his face slowly and letting you see the tears pooling in his eyes. You feel your heart shatter at his fragility in this moment, tears of your own stinging your lonely orb. “Oh, Ed,” you whisper, padding the rest of the way over to him and pulling him into your arms.

He falls gladly into you, wrapping his arms around your neck and pressing his face into your shoulder. You hold him tightly, not speaking. You know he doesn’t want to admit that he needs this right now, that it makes him feel weak to need the support.

So you stay silent, holding him without acknowledging his vulnerability.

You wish he would just acknowledge though, that he doesn’t need to be strong all of the time. Even now, his shoulders don’t shake with sobs. He clings to you, but he doesn’t cry—not really—his breathing irregular as he struggles to calm himself. It’s okay to need help sometimes, Ed...

And the thought almost makes you laugh, because you realize that you sound like the world’s biggest hypocrite in that moment.

After a few moments, he draws back, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand and leaning over the railing again. You join him, admiring the high view over Central.

After a few minutes, you hear Al come up the stairs. He pauses at the doorway, and you feel the muscles in your back tense.

“Hey, I—” he begins, but Ed interrupts him.

“You know what, Al?” he says. “We haven’t had a good fight in a while! I’m starting to get flabby.”

“Huh?”

Ed kicks off his slippers, doing an about-face and then running at Al in a sprint. He lashes out at the armored boy in a roundhouse-kick.

“Hey!”

Ed lashes out again.

“Brother, stop!”

Ed does not stop, and, after a moment, you decide to join him.

The two of you tag-team the armored boy, eventually managing to pull a bed sheet off of one of the nearby clothes lines, throwing it over the boy and sending him toppling over.

Ed stands over the fallen armor in glory. “We beat you!” he gloats. “The first time we’ve ever beat you.”

He joins you and Al on the ground, all of you spread out on your backs, staring up at the clouds.

“It wasn’t a fair fight, you know,” Al comments blandly.

“Don’t give us that shit,” you retort. “A win is a win and you know it!”

“We’ve always fought like this,” Ed remarks. “Ever since all of us were real little.”

“Definitely,” Al agrees. “Like who would get which bunk.”

“Yeah...”

“We fought over candy a lot, too.”

“Do you remember the time we broke Trisha’s favorite lamp when we were fighting for that last cookie?”

“Mom was so mad at us...!”

“And that fight we had during our training!”

“Teacher said we were being too loud, and then she beat us up herself!”

“I’m still sore from that one!”

“Why don’t we call that one a draw?”

You roll over suddenly, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Do you remember when the two of you fought over who would get to marry Winry one day?!”

“Whaaaat?” Ed says. “I don’t remember that one!”

“I won that one!” Al says proudly. “But she shot me down...”

You laugh. “Yeah! She said that if she was gonna marry any one of us, it was gonna be me!”

There is a brief pause, and then Ed speaks. “You’re telling me that all of those memories are lies?”

Al sounds ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“And your determination to be whole again, to get your body back, no matter what...” Ed shifts slightly. “That’s a lie, too?”

“No,” Al says firmly. “It’s not a lie.”

“That’s right,” you say, flexing your metal fist. “We’re in this together, right? The three of us against the world. Don’t forget that, and... we’re gonna keep on going. Nothing is gonna stop us. Not even... us. We’ll make ourselves stronger, faster, smarter, and we’ll keep on pushing until we get our bodies back! Whatever it takes.” You hold out your metal fist, and Ed stacks his own automail on top of yours, while Al comes out beneath.

“Together!”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

“Well,” Ed says hesitantly, holding up a crude drawing of Envy, the man from the Fifth Laboratory. “The last thing I remember was this guy kickin’ me.”

Armstrong and Maes scratch their chins thoughtfully, examining the sketch. “It’s odd that he let you live,” the Major remarks lowly. “And what about the ‘sacrifice’ and these other armored souls?”

“Not to mention the ouroboros tattoos and the transmutation circle,” Maes adds, peering over at a pile of other sketched-out images of the inside of the Fifth Laboratory. “And Doctor Marcoh claims that they were using the Philosopher's Stones in Ishval...”

“Every clue we have to work with seems to lead to its own mystery.”

Maes nods grimly. “Nothing we can do about that, though. Any answers we might have found are under a ton of rubble back in the Lab.” He holds up the drawing of the tattoo that the strange people had both shared. “I’ll run a search and see if I can find priors on anybody with an ouroboros tattoo.”

“Very good,” the Major agrees, taking the paper from the smaller man. “And while you do that, I’ll continue looking into the research team that was working with Doctor Marcoh in Ishval.”

Before their conversation can continue, there is a knock at the door. All of you turn to look at the door. Much to your surprise, it swings open to reveal Führer King Bradley himself. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says cheerfully.

All of you stare at the man in shock. Hastily, Maes and Armstrong raise an arm to salute him. “Führer Bradley!” the Major stammers; “Your Excellency!”

Bradley raises a hand and smiles. “Calm down, gentlemen,” he says calmly. “This is just an informal visit.”

“Yes, sir,” Maes says, bowing slightly at the waist as the Führer walks over to the hospital cot that you and Ed are currently sharing. “But if I may ask the occasion?” he continues.

“These young folks,” the Führer says, staring intently into first your eye, and then into Ed’s. “You two are injured. I thought a nice melon might cheer you up.” Bradley holds up a woven basket with a pink ribbon around the handle, a large, ripe green melon in the cradle.

The Führer hands the basket to Ed, who accepts it hesitantly. You both blink at the melon, slightly confused. “I guess...?” Ed says doubtfully. You elbow him hard in the ribs, and then he stiffens quickly, remembering to whom it is that he is talking. “Thank you, Sir!!” he shouts.

Bradley examines the two of you for a moment before he speaks again. “I understand that you have been checking up on some of the senior staff,” he says. “Is this true, Major Armstrong?”

Behind him, the large man looks perplexed. “Yes, Sir,” he replies haltingly. “But, uh... how did you know I was—?”

Bradley cuts him off. “You should know that nothing gets past me, Major,” he says lowly. He turns his gaze back to you and Ed. “And now you, my Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists.” His lone, blue-green eye scrutinizes you viciously as his voice lowers an octave. “Tell me what you know about the Philosopher's Stone. And I hope for your sake that you don’t know too much.”

He pins you down with his gaze as you and Ed sweat nervously. You are half convinced that you’re seriously about to die, right here, right now. The silence is drawn out for far too long before the Führer begins to chuckle. Then the chuckle deepens into a laugh and everybody in the room just stares silently at the man.

“I’m only kidding!” Führer Bradley laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder. “There’s no reason to be so uptight.”

You gape up at him like a fish. “Hah...?”

“I know that there’s been some suspicious activity within the military lately,” the man says more seriously, removing his hand; “and I believe that it’s necessary for something to be done about it.” He turns to the nightstand and picks up the pile of papers, flipping through them lazily.

“Oh!” Armstrong stammers. “Those are just, ah...”

“A list of the research team assigned to study the Philosopher's Stone,” Bradley finishes the Major’s sentence for him. “Every person listed in this document has been reported missing. They all vanished several days before the Fifth Laboratory collapsed.” His tone is not as grim as one might expect, given what he’s discussing. “It seems the enemy is always one step ahead of us. Even with my vast network of informants, I have no way to determine how far in our ranks they have infiltrated. The most we know about them is that they know a lot about us.”

Maes straightens slightly. “In that case,” he says, “this is proving much more dangerous than we imagined.”

The Führer hums in agreement as he sets the papers back down on the nightstand. “Major Armstrong,” he says, turning to look up at the man. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes...” He turns again to face him. “Elric brothers and Echo Slade; you’ve all proven yourselves to be men and women of a trustworthy character. From this point forward, I’m giving you the direct order to forget this matter and all that it concerns.” The lines in his face look like they’ve been carved from stone. “At this time, suspicion is our strongest line of offense, and our only form of defense is discretion.” He pauses to add emphasis on his next words. “Do not trust anyone. Keep this to yourselves at all costs. However...” A smile splits the man’s face. “When I deem the time is right to confront the enemy, I expect you to be prepared to join me in the effort.”

Immediately, Maes and Armstrong salute. “Sir!”

From outside the door, you can hear a man shouting. “Where is he? Has Führer Bradley been through here?”

Instantly, the Führer offers a salute of his own. “Gotta go!” he says cheerfully, striding over to one of the large windows that line the walls. “Damn bodyguard thinks he’s my shadow,” he mutters. He casts open the window and begins to climb out. He pauses and glances over his shoulder at all of you, probably feeling the weight of all of your eyes on his back. “See, I’ve snuck away to have a few moments of privacy,” he explains, still perched half-in, half-out of the window. “Well, farewell for now!” He lifts a hand in goodbye and then jumps out the window, walking away calmly.

The door opens behind you and Winry’s voice calls out. “Hey Ed—!” She stops at the sight of five people gathered around a window, staring out of it like they’ve seen a ghost. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“No,” Ed says dully. “Not really. Just a tornado passing by.”

You hold up the basket. “Melon?” you offer.

She shakes her head in decline and slowly closes the door behind her, still seeming confused. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything I can do about that,” she says, “but I did buy those train tickets you asked for.” She holds up the tickets.

“Thanks!” Ed says. “Just in time!”

Armstrong leans over him. “You sure are a man on the move,” he accuses. “Your wounds haven’t even healed completely!”

You scoff, biting at a thumbnail. “We’ll be fine. After two days of sitting in this cesspool of sick people and shitty food, I think we’ll probably be better off getting out of here, actually.”

Maes peers at the tickets over Winry’s shoulder. “And where are you heading off to this time?” He squints to read the words written on the small papers. “What’s in Dublith?”

“Well,” Ed says with a smirk, putting a hand on Al’s armored back, “with the way things have gone lately, the three of us decided we should go back and see our old Teacher!” He turns to Al, who began shivering as soon as he said the word Teacher.

“I think I’m too scared, Brother!” Al gushes.

His words are like a bomb that sets the three of you off. You huddle together in the middle of the room, a shaking, sweaty mess. “There’s no way she’s not gonna kill us!”

“Don’t you chicken out on me now! I’m scared too!”

Winry sweat-drops. “What does this woman teach, exactly?”

Armstrong rubs his chin thoughtfully. “It appears you have a rather lengthy journey ahead of you,” he muses.

“How far is Dublith?” Winry questions.

“Well...” Al points at a map on the wall, indicating a place in the northern part of the South Area. “Here it is, all the way down here!”

Winry looks at the map for a moment before her eyes widen and she begins to shriek.

You stare at the girl in shock at her sudden, random outburst. “Winry, what the fuck?!”

She points at a spot on the map slightly north of Dublith. “That!” she squeals. “Right there! Right before Dublith!!” She begins to swoon dramatically. “It’s the holy land of automail engineering!! It’s Rush Valley!!!” Her voice reaches a dangerously high pitch. She stands in front of you and Ed and waves her arms wildly, eyes shining like stars. “We have to go!!” she squeals. “We have to go! We have to go! You have to take me!!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ed says, clearly not impressed. “We don’t have to take you anywhere.”

Winry leans over him menacingly, instantly more serious. “Well somebody has to pay for my travel fare!”

“Well, why does it have to be me?!”

“Come on, Brother,” Al says. “What’s the big deal? It’s on our way!”

“Yeah, Ed,” you agree. “Quit being a jackass. Of course Winry can come.”

The girl screams in joy and spins around on her toe, arms thrown in the air. She dashes to the door, beaming. Before she runs out of the room, she glances over her shoulder. “I’ve got to tell Grandma!” She dashes out, leaving everybody blinking behind her.

After a long moment of silence, Maes puts his hand on Ed’s shoulder. “Looks like Echo has some competition,” he says gravelly, causing you to stiffen.

Ed prickles. “Don’t you start that!” he hisses in warning, and you shake your head vehemently. 

“It's not like that at all!”

Maes laughs. “I'd rather talk about my wife, anyway!” he gushes, causing you to go pale.

※※※

“It’s time for bye-byes!” Maes squeals, bending over to face his daughter. “Daddy’s gotta go to work now!”

“Daddy!” Elicia squeals back, clasping her hands together gleefully. “Come home early today, okay?”

“Hmm. Well, I can try, but Daddy has a bunch of important work that needs to be done!” He leans over and squishes the young girl’s cheeks. “But I promise I’ll do it as fast as possible!”

Gracia smiles down at her husband. “Don’t be late, now!”

Maes straightens up and dusts off his pants. “Well, Miss Rockbell,” he says, “I probably won't see you again before your train leaves, but it’s been fun. Oh, and tell the others I said ‘bye’.”

Winry nods her agreement. “Thanks, Mr. Hughes,” she says honestly. She dips into a bow, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her. “I really appreciate your hospitality.”

Maes smiles. “You just make sure to come visit us any time you’re in Central, okay? Our home is your home, too. Until then, take care of yourself!”

He begins walking away, and Elicia calls out after him. “Bye, Daddy! Work hard! Bye-bye!”

“You be safe out there!” Gracia says.

Maes waves over his shoulder without looking back.

※※※

“So why is it suddenly so important that you guys go see your Teacher?” Winry questions.

“Well, there are a couple of reasons,” Ed says, watching the sun set out of the train window.

“The biggest one being that we’re sick of getting our asses kicked,” you insert, smirking slightly.

“Wait!” Winry says. “Is this some kind of combat Teacher?!” She huffs. “Why don’t you just quit fighting?”

“Well that’d be nice!” Ed snaps, “but it’s not as easy as that, okay?” He takes a breath. “This isn’t only about our fighting. Our core needs a little work, too. Right, Al?”

The armored boy nods. “Exactly,” he agrees. “We feel like seeing our Teacher will make us grow and make us stronger on the inside.”

“Yeah, and we’re gonna need as much strength as we can get,” Ed continues, turning his gaze back out the window.

Winry is quiet for a moment as she glances around at the three of you. Then she grins. “What’s reason two?”

Ed’s eyes remain fixed hard on the setting sun. “To see what she can tell us about the Philosopher's Stone.”

“And to ask her about the truth within the truth,” Al adds. “We haven’t gotten any closer to figuring it out. There’s a chance our Teacher knows something about it.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t kill us before we get a chance to ask her!” you say, vocalizing a legitimate concern. “Al, you should really be more worried about explaining your new look to her. Because...” Your heart lurches into your throat. “Because...”

The three of you go pale. “She’s gonna kill us when she finds out what happened!”

“It would have been nice to at least have had a girlfriend before I died!” Al mourns.

Winry sweat-drops. “...You guys should get a new teacher.”

Mustang’s phone rings loudly, shattering the silence of his late-night attempt at paperwork. He picks up the receiver and holds it to his ear.

The operator’s voice sounds from the other line. “There is a Lieutenant Colonel Hughes on hold for you; he claims it urgent.”

“Of course he does,” Roy sighs. He rolls his eyes before continuing reluctantly. “Put him through.”

There is a click, and Roy begins speaking before his friend can get in a word. “Look, Hughes, I don’t have time for daughter stories!” he says.

Silence.

A few strands of unease begin to flick through the Colonel. “Hey, Hughes,” he prompts.

No response.

“Hughes!” Mustang’s voice is getting louder and his misgivings are growing stronger. “Are you okay? Hughes!”

Click.

Roy stares at the receiver in his hand for a long, long moment before slowly setting it back to rest on its cradle.

※※※

“Oh, man!” Ed moans around a mouth full of food. “This is the best apple pie ever!”

“Isn't it, though?” Winry says. “Mrs. Hughes is an excellent cook!”

You nod fervently. “I’ll say! Did she make you quiche while you were there? Her quiche is heaven-sent.”

“Yeah,” Al chuckles, holding a small black book. “I actually wrote the quiche on a list of things I’m gonna eat when I have a mouth again!”

“Well, she gave me the recipe,” Winry says. “So when you’re back to normal, Al, I'll make it for you.”

“Awesome!!” Al cheers, spreading his arms gleefully. “Thanks!”

Winry beams. “I had such a good time staying with them,” she says contentedly. “They’re both really great people.”

“Yeah, but Hughes is obnoxious,” Ed remarks, pursing his lips. “He doesn’t know when to shut up, and he spoils his daughter rotten.” He opens his mouth to take another bite of pie, but before it can reach his mouth, you snatch it out of his hand, an offended look on your face. “Echo, w-what’re you doing? Gimme back my pie!”

You scoff at him. “How about ‘no’,” you retort, holding the treat hostage. “Why would you say stuff like that about Mister Hughes? He’s a great guy! You think you’re just gonna insult him like that and then eat his wife’s cooking? I think not!” You take a bite of the pie yourself, maintaining direct eye-contact the whole time.

He glares at you darkly as you finish the treat off, crumpling up the napkin and then throwing it at him. He swats it back at you, still glaring.

“I have to agree with Echo on this one,” Al says. “He did come and see you two an awful lot in the hospital!”

“Mhmm,” you respond. “Every damn day! He always made it a point to come and keep us company, even if he had to blow off work to do it.”

Ed scowls. “Alright, alright, fine! He wasn’t such a bad guy,” he grumbles, feigning anger but smiling a little, ruining the whole illusion.

“We should try and find some way to thank him next time we’re there!” Al suggests.

“Yeah, we should,” Ed agrees.

※※※

The day of Maes Hughes’ funeral is insultingly beautiful. It is sunny and warm, with a light breeze that just barely rustles the verdant green leaves of the trees surrounding the graveyard.

All of those attending watch somberly as Hughes’ casket is lowered into the freshly-dug grave. Clinging to her mother’s leg, Elicia Hughes sniffles as she watches the men begin to shovel dirt onto her Daddy’s box. This alarms her.

If they cover Daddy with all that dirt, how is he going to get out again?

So she tugs on her mother’s skirt. “Mommy?” she whimpers. “Why are they putting all that dirt on Daddy?”

Gracia’s voice shakes as she responds. “They’re burying him, dear.”

Elicia doesn’t understand. “But if Daddy gets buried, then he won't be able to do all his work!” she protests.

Gracia’s throat constricts as she kneels down and scoops her daughter into her arms. “Elicia—” She chokes back a sob.

“Daddy said he has a bunch of work he needs to do!” Elicia shouts, waving her arms, demanding to be heard. What she is saying makes sense, doesn’t it? Daddy needs to work! Why would they put him in a box and bury him? Don't the men throwing dirt on his box understand? She keeps talking, hoping that something she says will make them stop, and they will let Daddy out. “No!” she shouts at them. “Stop! Stop it! Stop putting dirt on him!” Tears begin to well up in her eyes as the men just keep shoveling. “Daddy—!” she cries, reaching out for him.

※※※

Later that same day, after everyone had gone home—even Gracia and Elicia, who’d stayed for hours to help clean up—Roy Mustang stands in front of his best friend’s grave.

“Promoted to Brigadier General,” he mutters, watching the shadow he casts over the freshly-turned dirt. “Just for dying in the line of duty.” He takes a breath. “You were supposed to be helping me work my way up the ranks,” he accuses dully. “You’ve got it all backwards.” His next words are no louder than a whisper: “You damned crazy fool.”

“Colonel.” Riza’s familiar voice sounds behind him. He waits for her to say more, but she just walks over to his side quietly.

Roy turns his gaze back to the grave. “Alchemists, as a whole,” he murmurs. “We really are horrible creatures, aren’t we?” He stares at the daisy wreath resting on the stone slab. “There’s a side of me that’s desperately trying to crack the theories of Human Transmutation right now.” He pauses for a moment to check his breathing. “I think I finally understand what drove those kids when they tried to... bring back their mother.”

He feels Riza’s eyes on him, but that’s okay. He knows that she doesn’t judge him. “Are you alright, Colonel?”

Roy puts on his cap. “Yeah; I’m fine,” he lies. “Except, it’s a terrible day for rain.”

Riza blinks in surprise and looks up at the sky. “W-what do you mean?” she murmurs. “It’s not raining.” She turns her eyes back to the Colonel.

Roy tips his head up to the sky and lowers his cap so that it almost covers his eyes. “Yes,” he chokes out, a tear running down his cheek. “It is.”

“Oh.” Riza says quietly, nodding slightly. “So it is.”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

“Rush Valleyyyyyyy!!” Winry shrieks joyfully, gazing wondrously around at everything there is to see. “Automail,” she coos. “Automail! Automail!!” She jumps up and down, ecstatic. “I’m so happy!!” She gasps dramatically, pointing at something in a display case in one of the shop’s windows. “Look! It’s the most recent G.O.D.S. model!!”

“Welcome to the holy land of automail,” Al says. “This place is bustling!”

Ed groans. “Remind me again why we let ourselves get dragged out in this heat to look at a bunch of automail?” he complains. “We should’ve dropped Winry off at the station and kept going straight to Dublith.”

“Hey, kid!” a man’s voice calls from behind you. “Come back for a sec!” You glance over your shoulder to see who was calling, and then, before you know it, there’s a crowd surrounding you. One man is holding your left arm, examining it curiously, while the onlookers murmur to each other. “I’ve never seen an automail model quite like this before!”

“It really is unusual,” another man comments. “Everybody, take a look!”

The crowd swarms around you, bustling you so much that you may as well be in a mosh pit. Quite a few pairs of hands tug on your clothes, which you hastily swat away.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to escape the hungry crowd, dragging yourself free from the clustered mass of gross, sweaty bodies. “Fucking hell,” you grumble irately, fixing your shirt and pushing your hair off of your face. “This is why I keep away from gearheads!”

You’re working on straightening your belt when you hear Ed let out a groan. You look over to see him turning his pockets inside-out. “No, no, no, no, no!” he chants. “It’s gone?!”

“...What did you lose?”

“My pocket watch!” he moans, still desperately searching his pockets. “It’s the only thing that proves I’m a State Alchemist!!”

“Ah,” chimes in a man’s voice to your right. “It sounds like you guys had a run-in with Paninya!”

The four of you pause your panicking. “...Paninya?”

“A pickpocket around here who likes to target tourists,” the man explains.

Ed rushes over to the man and grab onto his shirtfront. “Where is this ‘Paninya’ girl? Do you know how I can find her? She took something very important!!”

The man puts his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm,” he muses to the man next to him; “Where is she again?”

The other man repeats the former’s gesture. “Ah, I know what might jog my memory...” he says suggestively. You’re sure he’s about to ask for money, but then he turns around with a wrench in his hand and squeals something about taking a better look at his automail.

Before the men can get any closer with their greasy hands, Ed shoots them a death glare and bares his teeth with a growl. Paling, they both spin around and point to the direction in front of them. “The automail shop run by an engineer named Dominic!” they squeal.

※※※

The sun blares down on you, causing sweat to bead up on your forehead. Wiping it away with the back of your hand, you continue to trudge through the stony canyon.

“Apparently,” Winry says, “this guy lives deep in the mountains because he can find the highest quality ore way out here.” She wipes her face with the edge of her shirt. “Are you absolutely sure we’re going in the right direction?” she asks dismally. “'Cause those engineers could’ve tricked us...”

“What’re you complaining about?” Ed groans. “This is all your fault for dragging us to this stupid automail town in the first place!”

“My fault?!” Winry shrieks, outraged. “You’re the one who was careless enough to let his watch get stolen!!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who—!”

Al interrupts before a full-blown argument breaks out. “Um, hey guys?” he starts. “Could that be her?” He points to a rickety-looking wooden bridge on the other side of the canyon wall. Squinting, you can make out a dark-skinned girl scurrying across.

She stops near the middle of the bridge, and turns in your direction. A flash of sunlight reflects off something in her hand.

Ed’s watch!

“Hey, you little thief!” Ed screams at her. “That’s my watch!” Clapping his hands, Ed makes himself a series a rocky platforms and starts sprinting after her. Scrambling, you, Al, and Winry rush to follow him.

Panicking slightly, the girl turns and starts running for the other end of the bridge. Once she’s across, she glances back, still running.

Ed claps, raising a huge wall in front of the girl, blocking her path. She crashes into the wall face first, bouncing back to land on her back in the dirt. Looking down, he glares at the girl. “I’d like my watch back.”

The girl—Paninya, presumably—sits up. “That was awesome!” she says, dusting off her baggy camo-print cargo pants. “How’d you do that, mister?”

Glaring, Ed clapped his hands to the ground again. “I’m an alchemist. Are you going to give me my watch back, or do I need to take it from you?”

Sparks crackling, Ed summons several large, earthen hands, trying to snatch the surprisingly agile girl. She laughs, dodging around. “What’s the matter?” she teases. “Can’t catch a little girl?”

She sticks her tongue out at him before jumping over a rocky ledge and running away.

Ed runs to follow her, only to see Al forming a solid metal cage around Paninya.

“Nicely done, Al,” Winry praises, standing next to the armored boy.

“Enough games,” he snaps, walking over to the trapped girl. “Give me back my wa—!” Before Ed can finish his sentence, he is cut off by a sudden slash from Paninya, sending the severed metal bars flying at him.

Looking at the girl, you’re shocked to see the leg of the thief’s pants torn, an automail leg with a blade above the knee shimmering in the hot sun. “Come on,” Paninya smirks, “you can’t be too surprised! You’ve seen the town, haven't you?” She lowers her leg. Then, with a devious glint in her eyes, she lifts the other, facing her knee toward Ed. “Oh, and...!” A short, yellow flash is all the warning you get. Flinging himself to the floor, a cannonball flies over his head, crashing into the rock wall behind him. Black smoke billows around as the girl laughs. “My other leg’s got a one-point-five inch cannon; what do you think of that?” With a wink, she pivots, running away.

You and Ed both start after her. “Get back here, you little—!”

“No way!” she teases. “Why don’t we see if you can catch me?”

Suddenly, Winry has the girl’s wrist in an iron grip. Twisting, she spins the girl to face her, wincing in pain.

“Well now,” Winry smirks, “how do ya like that? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Nice one, Winry,” Ed shouts, running after the two with the you and Al on his heels. “Don’t let her get away!”

She tightens her grip on Paninya’s wrist, causing the pickpocket to flinch. “No way am I letting her go,” she says. Her eyes turn sparkly. “Not yet, anyway!” she sings. “Not until I’ve had a closer look at that automail!”

Suddenly, the front door of a nearby house opens. “Oh, hello there Paninya,” says the woman in the doorway. She shoots a glance at Winry, who is literally jumping up and down with excitement, still holding the girl’s wrist. “Friend of yours?” she asks.

Paninya chuckles. “Not really...!”

※※※

Winry shrieks excitedly, examining Paninya’s automail legs inside the woman's home. Her name is Satera, you'd learned, and she lives here with her husband Ridel and his father. 

“I’ve never seen craftsmanship like this before! It has an advanced suspension, and would you look at this balance!!” Winry rambles. “The design of this piece is truly a work of art! It’s incredible!!!”

As she continues to drool over the girl, Ed grumbles from his seat on the couch. “Can I have my watch back yet?”

“It’s pointless, Ed,” you sigh, seated beside him. “You’re not getting it back until Winry is done being a nutcase.”

Said nutcase looks up at Ridel standing by the doorway. “The work you’ve done is simply fantastic!” she praises, awe-struck. “You’re a wonderful engineer!”

Grinning nervously, he holds his hands out in front of him. “Oh, n-no, don’t look at me, miss,” he stutters. “I wasn’t the one who made them.”

Winry looks surprised. Just then, a deep voice intones from the doorway behind you. “I am,” it says menacingly. Turning, you see the man who spoke to be a burly, aging man with dark skin and grey hair. He casts his eyes down his nose onto you and Ed. 

※※※

In the next room, the man—Dominic—examines Ed’s automail closely. “This arm seems a bit heavy,” he states. Motioning for you to approach, he weighs your arm in his hand with a thoughtful look on his stern face. “This one is the same way.”

“Y-yeah, I guess they are,” Winry says, looking a bit sheepish.

Dominic grunts. “You want to be more careful not to strain your outfit-ee,” he says. “That could be the reason why their growth is stunted.”

“HEY, SHUT UP!!” you both shriek simultaneously. After a beat, Ed gasps deeply. “Wait, are you telling me that if my automail was lighter, I’d grow taller than this?!” he demands.

Dominic rubs his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a possibility,” he agrees.

You fantasize about the idea of being taller, almost drooling at the possibility.

Meanwhile, Winry clenches her fist. “Right,” she says, determined. “That settles it. Mister Dominic!” She turns to face the man, who turns to her with a grunt. “I beg you... make me your apprentice!!”

Dominic is unimpressed. “Not a chance, girl,” he says dully.

Winry looks like she just died a little on the inside. “Maybe you’d like more time to consider the idea?” she offers weakly, not sounding very hopeful.

“No need,” Dominic sighs. “I don’t take on apprentices.”

Ed, seemingly driven by the idea of being taller, chimes in. “I understand,” he pleads, “but maybe you could take some time out of your busy schedule to teach her how to make automail to make us taller?”

“Please?” you beg, clasping your hands together pleadingly. 

“Can it, you little fleas,” the engineer growls before rising from his chair and leaving the room, closing the wooden door heavily behind him.

“Sorry about that,” says Ridel. “My old man can be pretty stubborn.”

Winry seems heartbroken.

※※※

A little while later, Paninya comes up to you in one of the spare bedrooms where you'd be spending the night. “Here,” she says. “You should probably give this back to your boyfriend.” She tosses Ed’s pocket watch to you.

You blush. “He’s not my—!”

She cuts you off. “I think I might have broken it or something though, because I can’t seem to get it to open or anything.”

Testing the lid, you find that it is indeed stuck closed. However, upon closer inspection, you find the trouble. “You didn’t do anything; don’t worry,” you tell Paninya. “It’s sealed with alchemy. I’ll give it back to Ed... thanks.”

She shoots you a grin, winks, and walks away.

Once she's gone, you taker a closer look at the pocket watch. The back of your neck prickles with curiosity. You know that Ed must have sealed it up for a reason, but...

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you glance around to make sure that no one is watching. Cautiously, you clap the watch between your hands and unlock the seal. Pressing the button on top to pop the lid open, you look inside and feel your heart sink. Carved into the lid are the words: Don’t forget 3.oct.11.

Your stomach drops. Burning with guilt, you snap the lid shut and slip the watch into your pocket.

※※※

Rain pours down heavily on the small house. You, Ed, and Al are walking down the hall, returning to your rooms for the night. You pause as you see Satera sitting on a chair, rubbing her round, swollen stomach.

“Excuse me,” Al says, hesitantly, “but are you having a baby?”

“Why, yes I am,” she says softly, smiling.

Al crosses the room to stand near the chair beside her. “Do you think...?” He hesitates. “Would it be alright if I touched your tummy?” he asks.

She laughs kindly. “Go right ahead!” she says.

You watch, fascinated, as Al kneels down and gently places his large metal hand on Satera’s round stomach. He lets out a small sound, seemingly awed. With a smile, she extends her hand out to Ed, guiding his hand to her belly before doing to same for you.

You are amazed to feel a soft thump against the palm of your hand. “What was that?” you ask.

Satera chuckles. “That’s the baby kicking,” she explains.

Ed pulls back slightly, looking up at her face. “It’s like there’s a miracle in your stomach,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” Al agrees. “We were in Mom’s tummy like this once upon a time too.”

Your mind drifts back to your own parents, but before you can really start to think about it, Satera lets out a pained sound, snapping you back to reality.

“Are you okay?” Ed asks, noting the wince on her face.

“Y-yes,” she says, sounding strained. She groans again. “I think... the baby is c-coming!” She flinches for a third time.

You swallow hard and take her hand in yours. “It’ll be okay, Mrs. Satera. Just breathe, okay? You’ll be just fine.” You turn to Ed. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go tell the others!”

※※※

Once Dominic leaves for town to fetch the doctor, everyone crowds together in the young couple's bedroom. Ridel sits on a chair next to the bed, watching his wife as she clutches at her stomach, wincing in pain. “Pop will be right back with a doctor...” he promises. “Just hang on a little longer for me, okay?”

Satera groans. “There’s no hanging on here,” she grunts. “It’ll come whenever it’s ready to.” She lets out a yelp.

Ridel leans forward. “What’s the matter, hon?” he asks worriedly. Satera mumbles something to him. “Huh?” he says, leaning in closer. She mumbles again, and Ridel cups his hand behind his ear, looking embarrassed. “Uh, sorry... one more time...? I couldn’t hear that.”

Satera growls. “I said ‘It’s coming!’!” she yells.

Everybody in the room panics. “What do we do?” Ed exclaims. “The doctor’s not here yet!”

Winry clenches her fists. “We’re just going to have to do it!” she says loudly, sounding firm.

“Have to do what?”

Winry swallows. “Deliver it.”

“So...” Ridel gulps. “So you’ve seen a baby being delivered before?”

“No, I...” Winry says, faltering. “I haven’t. But we don’t have any other options here! I need everyone’s help.” She seems to be gaining confidence. “We are going to do this!”

She ties an apron around her waist and starts firing off commands. “Ed and Al, go and get me some boiling water!”

“Right!”

“Paninya, go find some towels! And hurry!”

“Uh, r-roger!”

“Mr. Ridel, do you have any rubbing alcohol we can use for disinfectant?”

“I think we have some in the store room.”

“Echo, you go grab that. Oh, and some ice chips! We’ll put them by Mrs. Satera’s bedside.”

“Got it!"

※※※

Once all of the supplies have been gathered, Winry runs through a mental checklist outside the bedroom. “Boiling water... disinfectant... towels... what else is there?”

“Winry,” you say, putting a hand on her arm. “You can do this.”

She steels herself. “You’re right. Come on Echo, give me a hand in here.”

You panic. “W-wait, me?" you stammer, shooting the brothers a pleading glance. "Winry, I-I don’t know what I’m—I mean, I really don’t think I—gah!” She grabs your arm and yanks you into the room, slamming the door behind you.

※※※

A few hours later, you stumble out of the bedroom, falling onto your hands and knees; you breathe heavily, sweat trickling down the back of your neck. Ed drops down beside you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Echo! W-what—?”

You rake your hair away from your face and pull yourself up onto your knees. Wrapping your arms around Ed, you press your forehead against his and laugh breathlessly. “We did it, Ed!" you cheer. “We did it!”

He pulls you against him, peering over your shoulder before letting out an awed sound. Behind you, you can hear the baby crying, cradled in Satera’s arms. “It...” Ed seems shocked. “It’s a baby!” He hugs you tighter, laughing with amazement. “It’s a real live baby! Awesome! Awesome, awesome, awesome!”

“Ed...” you say slowly, chuckling. He looks down at you, still grinning from ear to ear. “I, um...kinda can’t feel my legs right now, and I really want to go lay down. Can you carry me to my room? Please?”

※※※

You burrow your face into Ed’s shoulder as he carries you on his back down the stairs. He shifts, and you feel his watch in your pocket as it brushes against your leg. In all the chaos, you had completely forgotten about it. Guilt prickles at your skin, weighing down in your chest as you remember the words carved inside.

You press your face into the crook of his neck and sigh. “I have to tell you something,” you admit softly.

He glances back at you briefly, still walking. “What is it?"

You hesitate. “I got your watch back from Paninya,” you whisper. “And... I opened it. I saw what you wrote.” Ed freezes, standing motionless just past the base of the stairs. "I'm sorry," you breathe helplessly. "I'm so sorry."

After a long, long moment, he shoves your legs off of him. You scramble to stand as Ed whirls around to grab your arms, squeezing hard. You can't help but flush at how close he is to you, your bodies just inches apart.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he tells you, voice grim, quiet. “No one was.”

You struggle to come up with the right words, conflicting emotions tearing through you. Failing, you simply ask, “Why?”

The golden-eyed boy is quiet for a long, heavy moment. “It’s private,” he says finally, voice hardly louder than a whisper. “An admonition to myself.” He grips your arms tighter, looking everywhere but at you. “I hate to admit how weak I am... That I had to give what happened that day substance, and then carry it around with me as a reminder.”

You feel tears pool in your eye, and, despite your efforts to stop them, they come trickling down your cheek. Your fault! nags a voice in your head gleefully. All your fault!

Biting hard on your lip, you drag your bitten, jagged fingernails roughly over the jean-clad surface of your thigh, feeling scabs tear open and blood begin to ooze slightly.

At the sight of your tears, Ed looks at you for the first time since he put you down; his eyes soften. “And now I’ve gone and made you cry,” he sighs, cupping your face with one hand and wiping a tear away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, more tears falling. “It’s just that... I...” You sniff. “Fuck, Ed, you don’t even know the half of it,” you say, letting out something between a laugh and a sob.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions.

“I—not now.” You shake your head, sniffling. “I can’t tell you now. Not yet. But I will later, okay? I... I promise.”

You look up at him through a teary eye. He swipes his thumb over your cheek again, locking eyes with you.

Slowly, he starts to lean in, and the smell of him swirls around you. He smells like... like Ed, like iron and sunshine and home. You breathe in deeply; your head is spinning. He leans in close, closer, closer still; your eye flutters closed as his warm breath stirs the hairs around your face.

Just before your lips can touch, however, the front door slams open, causing you both to leap apart as if you'd been shocked. Legs like jello, you turn to see Dominic, back with the doctor.

※※※

“Hurry up, Al!” says Ed, running after the departing train. “If we miss this train, there’s not another one for three days!”

Al is the first one on board, stepping onto the platform of the caboose. Ed tosses him his suitcase and then jumps on behind him. He leans over the railing and holds out his hand, stretching as far as he can. As the train passes the edge of the platform, you jump, catching his hand in yours as he pulls you up, onto the platform and into his arms.

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

“Well guys, we’re finally here!” Ed says.

You eye the door of Teacher’s house nervously. “This was a bad idea,” you grumble, but it's too late.

There is a series of loud thuds from inside the modest-looking building, growing in volume as they approach. You and the boys gulp loudly.

Slowly, the red door creaks open, and the glint of a bloody blade pierces out from the darkness behind, causing the three of you to cringe back fearfully.

“Hmmm...?” grunts the hulking giant of a man who ducks to step out of the doorway.

“Um, hello Sig,” Ed squeaks, greeting Teacher’s husband.

“L-long time no see!” you stutter.

A giant hand descends onto Ed’s head, mussing up his hair. “Good to see you,” he says, his voice a low, deep rumble in his massive chest. “You’ve grown up a little, huh?”

Ed’s face contorts as Sig continues to ruffle his hair. “He’s squishing me—!” he chokes out under his breath.

Al—a full head or three shorter than the man—clasps his hands to his armored chest. “You probably don’t recognize me,” he says, “but it’s Alphonse.” He bows slightly. “Sorry we’ve been away for so long.”

Sig turns toward the younger Elric and, after a beat, takes his hand off of Ed’s (now messy) head and begins to rub Al’s instead. “Looks like you’ve grown up more than a little!” he rumbles. Al beams beneath the massive hand.

Then Sig turns his attention toward you. “And if it isn’t the lovely Miss Echo!” he greets. “You seem to be doing—” He pauses, taking in your eyepatch and the automail arm. “What happened to you?”

You chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your head. “Well, you know me, Sig!” you stammer, “Always getting into trouble! It was bound to catch up to me sooner or later.”

He grunts, then ducks inside the house. “Izumi,” he calls. “Echo and the Elric shrimps have come for a visit. Do you think you can see them?”

“I’ll be right there,” Teacher’s voice calls from inside. “I’m feeling a little better today.”

“Lying down?” Al muses quietly. “That’s not a good sign.”

“I guess she hasn’t gotten any better since last time,” Ed agrees.

All of a sudden, the door slams open, sending the three of you reeling back in surprise. Without warning, a sandaled foot slams into Ed’s face, sending him tumbling back several feet. You and Al jump away from the door, not wanting the same treatment.

Slowly, deliberately, the dark haired, sandal-clad woman steps down the stairs before the door. Her eyes burn red. “Hello, my stupid pupil!” she snarls. “I hear you’ve become one of the military’s dogs!” Her head whips to the side, her furious, hellfire-fueled glare trained on you. “And you—!” she spits.

You scramble back, tripping over your own two feet. “I... I—T-Teacher, please! It’s n-not like that—!”

Al tries to intervene. “Uh, Teacher...! You see... it’s because...! Um...”

Izumi turns to him, and the demonic fury drains from her face. “Al?” she gasps, breaking into a warm smile. “Look at you! You’ve gotten so big!” She extends a hand to him.

Al exhales with relief. “Teacher!” he says, stepping toward her. “It’s so good to see y—augh!!” He goes to shake her hand, but at the last minute, she shifts, grabbing his wrist and flipping him over her shoulder, sending him barreling into you. You both shriek as you tumble over each other.

Teacher turns away, crossing her arms. “Your skills are rusty,” she scolds.

You sit up slowly, rubbing your aching head. You can feel a bump forming. “You’ve got a lot of energy for someone who’s not feeling well,” you groan.

In an instant, she is inches away from your face. “NOT FEELING WELL?!” she screams. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I’M PERFECTLY—!!” She is cut off as she turns to the side and vomits up a small waterfall of blood, causing you to panic.

Sig’s huge hand claps down gently of Teacher’s shoulder. She stops and turns to look up at him. “You shouldn’t exert yourself,” he rumbles.

She turns around and wraps her arms around him. “How sweet of you to worry, dear!” she croons. “Thank you!"

※※※

“The Philosopher's Stone?” Izumi muses. “No, I don’t know much about it... It holds no interest for me.”

You were all seated around the circular dining room table in Teacher’s home. You blow on your mug of tea before taking a sip, burning your tongue in the process.

“I see,” says Ed glumly. “Okay.”

Sig turns toward Izumi. “There was that one Alchemist...” he reminds her. “I thought that one man from Central knew a good amount about the Stone...”

Your ears perk up, and you exchange a glance with Ed and Al. “So, who was this guy?” you ask, stirring a sugar cube into your mug.

“Let me think...” Izumi places her finger on her chin. “What’s his name...? Ah, Hohenheim!”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Ed’s face twist with hatred.

Izumi notices too, it seems, because she sends him an unimpressed glance. “What is it?” she asks.

Ed seems to swallow back a biting retort. “Then he’s alive,” he growls.

Teacher still doesn’t seem impressed. “Someone you know?” she says, sounding almost patronizing.

You open your mouth to answer, but Al beats you to the punch. “He’s our father,” he says, voice quiet.

The dark-haired woman nearly flinches. “The one who ran out on you when you were little?”

“Yeah, that’s the one!” Ed barks. He grits his teeth, turning his head to the side, glaring a hole in the floor. “It’s all because of that bastard that our mother is dead...” he snarls. “And... if it wasn’t for him...”

Your mind flashes back to a night years ago, back when you were all still young and innocent. The details are foggy, but the memory still remains.

※※※

(Age 5)

Trisha is standing by the door with the boys’ broad-shouldered father; a tall man with a sleek blonde ponytail and a face you can’t quite recall. Trisha turns toward you and the boys. “Oh!” she says, sounding surprised. “You three are up early! What are you doing out of bed?”

You rub sleep out of your eyes with the hand not grabbing the sleeve of Ed’s nightshirt, trailing along behind him as he holds Al’s hand. “Al said he had to go potty,” Ed yawns.

Trisha smiles. “And of course his big brother took care of him,” she praises.

You rub your eyes again. “An' I came to make sure no monsters try any funny bi-ness,” you slur.

“That’s my brave girl,” Trisha laughs, kissing you on the forehead.

Smiling up, you see the blonde man turn his back on her, opening the door and stepping out without a word or a single backward glance.

※※※

The next night at dinner, you remember Ed eyeing the empty seat at the kitchen table. “Hey... why isn’t Dad here?” he asks. 

Trisha stops and stares at the cabinet ahead of her, where she is putting away dishes. “Your dad left,” she says in a funny voice; she sounds kinda sad.

Al smiles, turning around in his chair. “When’s he coming back, Mom?”

After a long pause, she turns around with a chuckle. “I’m gonna getcha!” she smiles, leaning down and tickling the youngest brother. “You silly boy,” she laughs as a single tear falls down her cheek. “He’ll be back before you know it, Al. Now, finish your dinner, kids.”

※※※

(Present day)

Flinching, you startle back to the present. You go to reach out to Ed, who still seems lost in thought, but pause just before you touch him.

Things have been... different, since that night in Rush Valley a few days ago. You’ve been awkward, and he’s been awkward, and you can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Dominic hadn’t busted in and interrupted whatever had been going on between the two of you.

After a long moment of indecision, you settle for kicking his leg under the table. He jumps and nearly spills hot tea all over his lap, catching himself at the last moment.

“Um—” Al teeters out. “Did our dad say anything about the Philosopher's Stone?”

Izumi puts her hand to her chin again. “Something about a life-long dream coming true,” she recalls. “He seemed very happy when he said it.”

All of a sudden, Teacher stood up and whacked Ed over the back of the head. “Now we’re going to eat!” she roars, hands on her hips.

“Okay!” complains Ed, rubbing his head.

※※※

You have to say, you’d never pegged Teacher as a good cook, since Sig had usually done the cooking when you and the boys had lived here; but a good cook she is indeed.

You are part-way through devouring a turkey leg when Sig turns to Al. “You’re not going to eat anything?”

“Oh, no!” he says, waving his hands nervously. “I’m fine! I had a big meal on the train ride here.”

“Hey Al!” says Ed, changing the subject oh-so-subtly. “You should tell her about Rush Valley!” He glances at you sideways from the corner of his eye and you glance away, face heating up. “About the baby being delivered.”

You shudder. “Damn it, Ed, I’m trying to eat over here! Don't remind me of that!” 

“Oh, it was so amazing!” Al says wondrously. “We helped deliver a baby! There was this big storm, and we couldn’t get the mother to a doctor!”

“Well,” says Ed, “it’d be pretty generous to call what we did ‘helping’!”

Al laughs. “Yeah, it was mostly Winry and Echo. And the whole family pitched in, too! The mother was so brave! Everyone’s blessed when a baby is born, huh?”

“Yes, that’s right,” says Teacher, sounding a little sad, her eyes cast downward. “That same miracle brings us all into this world... Always take pride in the lives that were given you.”

※※※

Later that night, you and the boys are in the guest room. Ed is sprawled out on his back on one of the beds, staring out the window at the stars. You sit behind Al on another, helping to polish his armor. A fly is buzzing busily around the room and it seems particularly intent on dive-bombing you repeatedly, causing you to make frequent pauses to try to swat it away.

The younger Elric lets out a small chuckle, watching the tiny creature attack you. “Teacher hasn’t changed, has she?” he remarks.

“Nope,” Ed sighs, “she hasn’t changed one bit in all this time.”

Smiling, you think back on how you met Izumi the first time.

※※※

(Age 9)

A storm is raging. Needle-like raindrops pierce the sky, and you clutch at the sleeve of Ed’s raincoat as the flash-flooding laps up against the edge of the levee. If something doesn’t happen soon, the whole town will have to evacuate.

Suddenly, a man starts shouting. “The levee is breaking!” He waves his arms, struggling to be heard over the scream of the wind. “Head for higher ground!”

Alphonse taps your shoulder. “Guys, look!” He points to a woman walking briskly toward the rock wall, which cracks open as she approaches. She seems unfazed by the cold water that swirls at her hips, and she claps her hands, blue sparks crackling as she slams them into the ground beneath the surge. The sparks spread through the water, and then huge stone walls shoot up from the ground, blocking the flow.

Standing up and turning around, she wipes the dirt off her hands. “Well that ought to hold the water back for a while!” she calls.

“Lady, who are you?” somebody questions.

The woman grins. “Just a housewife who was passing by!” she responds before a fountain of blood surges out of her mouth.

You, Ed, and Al shove your way through the crowd, running up the mysterious woman. “Hey old lady!” Ed yells excitedly. “Could you be our teacher?”

The woman turns with a death glare, wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand before clapping and pressing her hands against the ground, forming a rocky pillar that sends the three of you flying.

You come running back again. “Pretty please, old lady?” the three of you exclaim simultaneously.

She bristles. “I’m a little hard of hearing, you see, so I didn’t quite catch that...!” she growls, cracking her knuckles. “Maybe you’d like to repeat yourselves?”

“Uhh...” You and the boys exchange looks. The three of you clasp your hands together at your chests, turning puppy-eyes on the woman. “We’ll try again,” says Al.

“Please, please, teach us, pretty lady?” you beg, putting on your nicest, sweetest voice.

“No way.” She turns her head.

“Why not?!”

She leans down menacingly. “Because I don’t take on students,” she snaps. “And besides, I'm in the middle of a trip!”

You grab onto her arm. “But please!” you shout, as she lifts her arm and tries to shake you off. “Please teach us! We need you!” You hang on for dear life.

She shakes harder, and you nearly bite your tongue off. “You brat! What about your parents?!”

A man walks over. “Um, ma’am?” he interrupts. “These little ones don’t have any parents.”

The woman seems surprised, flinching back the smallest amount. She looks down, first at you, still clutching her arm tightly against your chest, and then at the boys, on their knees in the mud, begging. Her face softens. “How am I supposed to say no to that?” she says softly.

※※※

The three of you stare at the forest that looms ahead of you, taking up most of the island you’re standing on; you all turn around to blink at Teacher and Sig, sitting in the canoe a few feet away.

“You three are on your own!” she bellows, causing the three of you to gape. “This is your introductory training! If you do well, you’ll move on to the main training phase.” Izumi puts her hands on her hips. “During this first stage, the use of alchemy is totally forbidden!” she commands, causing you all to balk.

Her voice lowers. “‘One is all,’” she quotes, “‘and all is one.’ You have one month to figure out what that means.” She smirks. “You’d better find the answer in the allotted time! If not, you're headed back to Resembool!” She flings a survival knife towards you. It lands point-down in the sand between you and Ed, causing you both to jump. “Bye!” Izumi cheers as Sig starts rowing away.

The two of them grow farther and farther away, and you all seem to realize at the same time that this is really happening.

“What do we do now?!”

※※※

Night has fallen, and the three of you lie on your backs on top of some large palm leaves at the mouth of the forest, just a little ways up from the beach. Your stomach rumbles loudly.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry,” Ed moans.

“I want to sleep in a real bed,” Al complains.

You sit up angrily. “How is a camping trip considered alchemy training?!” you rage. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, and you flop back down, too hungry to be angry anymore. “I’m starving,” you grumble.

※※※

You watch eagerly as the rabbit hops straight into the snare that you and the boys had set, grinning as the animal is yanked up into the air. “Got one!” you cheer.

You lower it down, placing it on the ground with its feet tied together. It struggles, squeaking, and you pet its soft ears.

“How are we supposed to eat it?” Al asks.

A determined look on his face, Ed pulls the knife from his pocket. “We kill it,” he answers grimly.

Al shrinks back. “Kill it...?”

Ed turns to the rabbit, knife shaking in his fist. You step away from it, chest aching as it stares up at you with beady, pleading eyes. After a long, long moment, Ed tries to thrust the knife into your hands instead, but you push him away. “No way!” you yell. “I’m not doing it!”

“Catching them is more my area of expertise, so it’s only fair,” he cajoles.

“That is such a lie!” you shriek. “I set this trap!!”

A small sound distracts you two from your arguing, and when you look down, the rabbit is gone. Up ahead, you see a fox, jaws clamped around the animal’s neck. It gives you a fleeting glance before trotting away.

“Hey, come back here!!!”

The three of you chase it for a bit, but it is much faster than you. Stopping, you see it run ahead, laying the rabbit down before two baby foxes.

“Fox cubs,” says Ed breathlessly. “Look!”

The animals dig into the rabbit, bloody meat in their mouths and you jerk back, gagging. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” you choke out.

※※※

It’s night again, a few days later. Together, you’ve managed to construct a sort of wooden tent, and you’re all huddled inside it, trying to avoid the rain that drips down from the cracks above. You’re cold and hungry and your whole body aches. “This is wonderful,” you bite out sarcastically. “No food, no fire, no nothin'.”

Ed shifts behind you. “Don’t remind me!” he snaps.

Burrowing your face into your knees, you sigh, blinking back tears.

※※※

Another few days, and the sun beats down, roasting you alive. It’s been over a week since you’d last eaten, and you feel horrible; your vision blurs and there’s an incessant ringing in your ears that won’t go away. You force yourself upright weakly, looking around. You see a line of ants marching away, and fall onto your stomach next to them to watch. Ed flops down beside you.

Stomach aching hollowly, you watch as Ed scoops one up and shoves it in his mouth, chewing once before swallowing.

“Um, Ed?”

He rears back, groaning in disgust before popping a few more in his mouth.

You roll over to watch as he flings himself back, legs kicking in frustration. “’s gross!!” he shrieks.

He’s silent for a long few moments, lost in thought. “Guys,” he says quietly, after a time. “I’m still alive; I’m alive because I ate the ants!” He pauses, thinking. “I’m alive, because I consumed life.” Tears pool in his eyes. “I’m still alive,” he whimpers.

※※※

After that, the three of you changed. You built a fire, you hunted, learned to fish. The first night that you all had food, you'd stuffed yourselves so much that you'd gotten sick.

The night before Teacher comes back to pick you all up, you are lying on your backs by the fire, staring up at the stars.

“Hey guys?” Al asks. “Have you figured out what Teacher meant by ‘one is all and all is one’? I’ve been thinking about it this whole time, but I still only have a few vague ideas.”

“Now, I’m not really sure about this,” Ed answers back honestly, “but do you remember when I was weak with hunger and I ate those ants?”

“You ate a lot of them,” you snort.

“I sure did,” Ed chuckles. “And boy did they taste nasty! But then, it got me thinking; if I didn’t eat them, I might have died! And then I would have been eaten by them! I’d have gone into the earth and become grass; and then the rabbits would eat that.”

“I think I get it,” you muse. “All things are connected, and everything, everyone is part of the cycle. Everything is tiny and insignificant compared to all of everything in existence, but if you put a bunch of tiny things together, they become one big thing. ‘One is all, and all is one’.”

※※※

“Today is the day,” Teacher says, hands on her hips. “Let’s here what you’ve learned about ‘one is all, and all is one’.”

“All is the world!” Al announced confidently.

“And one is me!” continues Ed.

You're all pretty shocked when Teacher starts laughing. “Very well,” she sobers up. “Now the real training starts.”

The three of you immediately start celebrating. You high five each other and start cheering exuberantly.

※※※

“'The basis of transmutation is the power of the circle, which denotes the circulation of power. In order to harness and draw upon this power, one must draw the structural matrix over the circle'.”

Izumi rattles on, reading from the book held in one hand, while effortlessly fending off attacks from you and the boys with the other.

Spotting an opening, you jump up and spin around, aiming a kick to Teacher’s face; suddenly, her eyes glint and she tosses the book into the air. Clapping her hands around your leg and using your own momentum against you, she flips you and sends you crashing to the ground in a painful heap.

Standing over you in the front lawn, the woman holds her hand up and continues speaking. “This is also the circulation of power.” With a smirk, the book falls perfectly into her outstretched hand. “It’s best if you experience it for yourself,” she taunts, turning to beckon the brothers challengingly.

Reluctantly, Ed and Al rush her, only to be sent flying.

“Enough of that!” Teacher barks, looking at the three of you, huddled on the ground in pain. “Keep reviewing the morning’s lesson until lunch is ready,” she commands, turning and walking back towards the house.

Alphonse is the first to muster up the will to push himself up, and he sits back on his haunches. “Let’s see,” he muses, drawing a circle in the dirt with his finger. “‘The circle denotes the circulation of power’,” he recites, looking up to Teacher. “‘In order to harness and call upon this power, one must draw a structural matrix over the circle’.” You and Ed manage to push yourselves into a seated position, watching Al as his brow furrows. He presses his palms together, throwing Teacher a confused look. “But Teacher, you just put your palms together to perform transmutations, don’t you?”

Izumi stops with her back facing you, her hand stilling on the front doorknob. After a long beat, she shifts slightly, looking at the three of you over her shoulder.

“You can do it without drawing the structural matrix?” Al continues, seemingly not noticing the way Teacher’s face has darkened.

Teacher turns her gaze back toward the door. “If you think about it a certain way,” she answers back grimly, “I, myself, am the matrix.”

“How do you do it?” Ed asks eagerly, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs. “Tell us, Teacher!”

Izumi seems to wilt a little bit as she pulls open the door the rest of the way. “Perhaps it’s something you learn,” she says with a tone of finality, “when you see the Truth.”

※※※

(Present day)

You jerk awake suddenly, realization hitting you like a brick. Bolting upright into a seated position, you feel Ed and Al’s eyes on you. “Teacher attempted to perform human transmutation,” you murmur.

※※※

Out in the yard, you and the brothers stand just behind Izumi, where she faces the wall of her house.

“So,” she intones, still facing away, “what is it you wanted to ask me?”

“Um...” Ed begins, scratching the back of his head. “Well—”

Abruptly, Teacher claps her hands together, rapidly creating a long spear from the stone wall in front of her. Whirling around, she swings it at Ed, who catches it in his hand and ducks under her following fist. She swings a few more times, and he dodges; she shifts her feet and then sends the point whistling through the air, aimed straight for his throat.

Moving so fast that he’s almost a blur, he claps his hands and then presses against his automail, the metal shifting to form a point. Spinning, he slams the blade into the oncoming spear, slicing the point clean from the handle.

At the same time, your press your hands against the ground at your feet, dust motes rapidly solidifying around Izumi’s ankles, melding into the ground and locking her in place.

Izumi’s eyes burn furiously. “As I suspected, you can transmute without a matrix,” she growls, shooting her gaze between the two of you. She points an accusatory finger at Al. “On top of which, Al is now a suit of armor, and two of your limbs are made of automail, just like Echo's arm!”

“Teacher, how did you know all of that?!” Ed gasps.

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “I could tell from sparring with you!” She pauses, talking a deep breath. When she speaks again, her voice has returned to a normal volume. “You saw it,” she states, leaving no room for denial. “Didn’t you? ” She phrases it like a question, but there is a grim certainty in her voice.

The two of you glance toward each other before looking away again, and then Izumi looms over you both. “YOU. SAW. IT!” she bellows.

“Y-yes!”

She sighs, seeming defeated. “It seems all of us are beyond help.”

The air is thick, and your fingers dance lightly around your eyepatch. “Teacher,” you blurt out, “you saw it too. Please, could you...?”

※※※

You all sit around the table; you stir sugar into your coffee as Teacher talks. “...For a while, it seemed we were barren,” she began, keeping her gaze trained on the ground. “We wanted a child, but couldn’t conceive. When we were finally able to conceive, I ended up falling gravely ill... and our child as well. He was not able to take a living breath in this world. And so, I committed the taboo. As a result, I lost parts of my inner organs.” Her hand moves to rest against her stomach as she continues grimly. “What an idiot I was.” The atmosphere of the room is thick with regret. “Now I realize I should have told you sooner,” she sibilates.

There is a long moment of silence. You gnaw on your thumb nail absently, thoughts darkening.

“It must have been awful,” Teacher says finally, breaking the silence.

You jerk, the movement causing you to tear your nail roughly, blood immediately welling up, beading on the edge of your nail bed before starting to dribble sluggishly down the side of your finger. You jerk your hand under the table before anyone can notice.

Ed begins talking from where he’s seated away from you, but you can hardly even hear him. Blood is roaring in your ears as you stare at the red dripping down your finger, your knuckle, the back of your hand, inching its way down your wrist.

“Nah,” you hear him say distantly, “We did it to ourselves, after all. It hasn’t been that big a deal, actually!” Even through the haze clouding your mind, you can tell that he’s putting on a front.

“Besides,” Al adds, “now I have this long list of things I’m looking forward to eating! Right, Brother?”

“Yeah!” Ed fakes a laugh. “It’s nothing!”

As a droplet falls onto your lap, you force on a smile, tearing your gaze away and wiping your hand on your pants.

“You little idiots,” Izumi sighs, pulling the three of you into a group hug. “It’s okay to hurt.”

You press your face into Teacher’s shoulder and force back tears as the brothers choke out apologies.

You deserve to hurt.

Chapter Text

“To think you saw it, and managed to survive...” Teacher muses, staring out the open window. “I doubt you even know how impressive that is. Regardless, I can’t accept the decision you made.” With a glare, she turns to face you and the boys. “You’re expelled,” she says sharply.

“But Teacher—!”

Ed holds out his hand, halting his brother. “Al,” he warns.

Izumi turns back to the window. “The trains are still running. Get on one.”

Ed seems to steel himself, and then bows to the woman. “Thank you,” he says stoically, “for everything.”

※※※

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

Sig waits with you and the brothers as the train pulls into the station. “Feel free to drop by if you’re ever in town,” he rumbles.

Your shoulders drop. “I don’t really think we’re welcome anymore,” you sigh.

“You idiots!” the mountain of a man shouts, and the three of you flinch back, surprised. “You’re so busy pouting that you can’t see what your expulsion means,” he explains. “You aren’t her students anymore, so now you are finally free to speak to Izumi as equals!” He pauses. “...unless, of course, you are too chicken to try it,” he taunts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ah, damn!” Ed exclaims, clapping a hand to his forehead and turning to you and Al. “Guys! We haven’t done what we came here to do in the first place!” He turns back to Sig. “Thank you. We’re heading back there right now!” he says, before dashing off.

As you and the youngest Elric dash off after him, you hear Sig’s parting words: “Don’t let her kill you!”

※※※

Ed flings open the door. “Teacher—!” He is cut off by his own scream as a knife embeds itself in the wall barely a hair over his head.

“What the hell are you doing coming back here?!” Teacher roars, the flames of hell rising behind her eyes. “And you call me ‘Teacher’! I do not teach scum like you! Get out of my home!!”

You and the brothers fall to you knees before the enraged woman, groveling at her feet.

“Teacher!” you cry out, clasping your hands against your chest. “Please! We need your help! We’re trying to get our bodies back, and we won’t leave without your help!”

Your words do nothing to calm the infuriated woman before you. “Get out now!” she snarls viciously.

“We’re staying!”

For a long, silent moment, Izumi stands with her hands on her hips, glaring at you, Ed, and Al. Finally, she turns her head and closes her eyes. “You idiots,” she sighs.

※※※

“Al, you didn’t see the Truth, did you?” Izumi questions.

“No,” he confesses. “I don’t even really know what that means.”

“You must have lost your memory from the shock,” the woman ponders, her hand on her chin. After a beat, she sits up straighter. “We need to get Al’s memory back,” she declares, focusing in on you and Ed. “His entire body was taken from him.” Her gaze sharpens. “Just think of what he must have seen.”

You straighten up. “Oh yeah,” you murmur. “We only exchanged parts of our bodies for what we saw. But Al paid the toll with his entire physical being. He must have seen more of the Truth than any of us did!”

Al shifts. “So...” he says haltingly, “if I can remember what I saw, then we’ll know how to get our bodies back?”

Izumi’s brow furrows. “But the memory of that thing...”

Al seems to blanch. “Why?” he stammers. “Is it something bad?!”

“No,” Teacher says ominously. “More like... awful.” She waves her arms mysteriously.

“Horrifying!” Ed agrees, wiggling his arms as well.

“It could drive you insane!”

“Or even leave you brain-dead!”

Your eye twitches. “Cut it out!” you snap. “Stop teasing him! You really believe that he thinks it’s going to be a walk in the park? He knows it’s going to be hard. You don’t have to harass him!!”

Al places a hand on your arm, and you fall silent. His other hand clenches into a fist on his lap. “It doesn’t matter!” he says determinedly. “If there’s a chance that it can help us... then I want to do it!”

Izumi’s hand returns to her chin. “...Alright,” she utters after a long beat of silence. “I have an acquaintance that might have a way to retrieve your memory for you.” She pauses, taking a deep breath through her nose, then smiles. “But! Let’s eat dinner first.” She rises to her feet. “C’mon; give me a hand.”

※※※

Al has been gone for well over an hour. He told you and his brother that he was going for a walk, but the two of you were starting to get worried. When another hour passes and there’s still no sign of the boy, you and Ed decide to go looking for him.

“Now where would a seven foot tall suit of armor run off to?” Ed muses.

“Honestly,” you agree, gnawing absently on a hangnail. “You wouldn’t think he’d be that hard to find.”

“I’d be happy to tell you where you can find him,” an unfamiliar voice sibilates. Startled, you turn toward the direction of the voice. In the narrow alley between two buildings stands a short figure with a long, tattered white robe on, hood pulled over its head. It grins at you with a sharp-toothed smile. “But first, you tell me what his secret is...!”

※※※

Ed kicks open the door as you shove the strange little man to the floor. The two of you stand in the doorway, taking in the sight before you.

Al is sitting on the floor opposite the doorway, his back against the wall, hands and ankles chained together. Before him stands a man with spiked-up black hair and a leather vest. He’s flanked by a large, muscled man and a smaller man with a katana strapped to his waist.

“It never really crossed my mind that you could get kidnapped,” Ed says as the two of you stride into the room.

“Brother! Echo!” Al exclaims. “This guy’s a homunculus!”

“A homunculus?” you repeat. As in, an artificial human made from alchemy?

“Hey!” complains the man. “Way to ruin it!”

Al ignores him. ”We might be able to get some leads from him on how to get our original bodies back!”

Slowly, the man begins to smirk. “The name’s Greed,” he snickers as he slowly raises his left hand to display the familiar tattoo emblazoned onto the back of it. It was the same symbol you’d seen on the man and woman who’d attacked you in the Fifth Lab.

“An ouroboros tattoo,” you growl.

“Aren’t you observant!” he mocks. “I was hoping that I’d only have to deal with the little armored giant.”

“Why don’t you just ask your partners whatever you wanted to know?” you ask, an edge to your voice.

“‘Partners’?”

“Yeah, the rest of the whatever little ouroboros gang you’ve got going on. The ones from the Fifth Lab? They had a couple of armor bonded souls with them as well.”

“You don’t say!” the man says loftily, putting his hands on his hips. “Well it’s kind of a long story, but we don't talk much anymore,” he drawls. “I’ve got a little... proposal for you. You guys are pretty desperate to get your bodies back, right? Because I can teach you how to fabricate your own homunculus in no time at all.” He smirks. “In return, all I ask is you teach me how to transmute a soul. Classic equivalent exchange!” Greed chuckles, turning to face Al. “But I really don’t understand why you would want your other body back!” He shrugs. “Seems like you’ve got one that’s perfect already!”

“No I don’t!” Al snarls as your hands ball into fists at your sides.

Greed snickers. “You’re joking, right? You don't need to eat. You don't need to sleep. You don't even need to use the toilet!” he marvels. “Sounds great to me!”

“That’s enough,” Ed growls slowly, gritting his teeth. “Shut your damn mouth!!!” he roars. “Sounds great to you!? It seems perfect!? You don't know anything about the hell he's gone through stuck with that body!” He takes a step forward, his foot sending up a cloud of dust. “And you want to know how to transmute a soul!? You kidnapped my brother and you want to trade secrets with me!? I'm gonna crush you creeps! I'll smash you!” he bellows. “End you! And I won't give you slime anything! In other words there won’t be an exchange with you scum!”

Looking utterly unimpressed by Ed’s unadulterated display of fury, Greed lets out a slow, sarcastic clap. Beside him, the man with the sword grips the hilt of it in his hand. “I guess we’re doing this by force again,” he mutters.

“Go ahead,” you fume through clenched teeth. “See what happens.”

Greed scoffs. “Don’t kill them, alright?” he lilts.

“Yeah, yeah,” says the man dismissively. In a smooth, swift motion, he draws his sword and swings it at Ed’s legs. The boy jumps, spinning in the air.

“You're a lot slower than a prisoner I know!” he barks, kicking the man hard in the temple, sending him crashing to the ground.

With a flash of alchemy, you and the eldest brother are armed and ready.

The homunculus steps forward. “Roa,” he says to the large man behind him. “Get the armored kid out of here. Guess we’ll dismantle him.”

“Right,” confirms the man—Roa. He hefts Al over his shoulder, where the boy struggles against the chains binding him.

You growl and run toward them, swinging your scythe. With a jarring clang, you’re brought to a halt as your blade connects with Greed’s hand. With a jolt, you realize that it appears to be made of some sort of solid, impenetrable metal.

Ed jumps in behind you and the two of you exchange blows with the man, who dodges with apparent ease. After a moment, you spot an opening in Greed’s defense, and you arc the blade of your scythe straight at his head.

He blocks the blow with his hands, both of which are now encased in that strange metal. “Nope, sorry,” he teases. “That dusty thing of yours is cute and all, but it can’t even scratch my Ultimate Shield!”

Ed sends spikes of the stone ground hurtling toward Greed, who breaks off the tip of one in his hand. Shifting, the boy shatters them into small, sharp chunks that fly at the man faster than he can dodge. As he’s distracted, you leap onto the man’s shoulders and wrap your legs around his neck. You shift, using your momentum to your advantage and fling yourself sideways, sending him hurtling to the ground.

“Too bad your ‘ultimate shield’ couldn’t protect you from that!” you taunt.

Greed lashes out at you with his metallic claws, striking you across the collarbone. You stagger back, gripping the bleeding wound.

“You okay?” Ed calls.

You grunt, gritting your teeth. “I’m fine.”

“Ow, that hurt,” the homunculus notes offhandedly. “That move would’ve hospitalized most people.”

“But you’re not like most people, huh?” Ed jeers.

“Well, my body is,” he confesses, gripping the back of his neck as red sparks crackle around him. “All that sets me apart is my Ultimate Shield and advanced healing powers. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “But you're never gonna beat me. So I suggest making a deal.” He pauses, and seems to notice the way Ed had shifted himself protectively in front of you.

“Oh, so you’re one of those guys,” Greed quips. “You don’t care somebody beats the crap out of you but if someone lies a finger on family member, you’ll completely freak out.” He rolls his eyes. “What a waste. You lose your temper like this and you’re gonna lose my information and your brother.”

“Our brother is fine,” you snarl. “He’s just waiting for us to kick your fucking ass. You already told us you’re not immortal, remember? And your Ultimate Shield is pretty pointless if it only covers your hands.”

Greed barks out a laugh as he slips out of his vest, exposing the sleeveless shirt underneath. “Sorry to let you down, but I’ve been holding back!” With a shock, you realize that the shielding covering his hands is quickly spreading up his arms, then across the rest of his body, encasing him completely. “This obscures my handsome face, so I try not to wear it that much,” he taunts. “I wasn’t kidding, kid. Try all you like but you’re not gonna beat me!”

※※※

You wonder if this is what dying feels like. You certainly hope not, because fuck is it painful.

Greed showed no mercy. You and Ed had gotten your asses handed to you.

Blood drips into your eye, but you’re already so covered in it that trying to wipe it away just smears more across your face. Every inch of you screams with pain. Your eyepatch hangs off of one ear, dangling somewhere near your shoulder. It seems some of your nerves had been dislodged from your automail, as you’re assaulted over and over by the torturous overstimulation of disconnecting and reconnecting. You’re having a hard time breathing, and every time you do manage a successful inhale, it’s accompanied by an wet, sickening gurgle in your lungs.

Your vision blurs in and out of focus, and you struggle to make out Ed slumped over on the other side of the room, a large streak of blood trailing across wall behind him. The blade on his automail had been ripped clean off, exposing the inner wirings and mechanisms of his arm.

Greed steps up in front of you, nudging your ribs with his boot, and your back arches in a silent scream at the fire it sends through your whole body.

“Give up yet?” Greed mocks, nudging you again.

You ignore the tears streaking down your face as you slowly, slowly force yourself to your feet, falling over once, twice, before you're finally able to get your legs to support you.

Swaying, dizzy, you can hear the man say something to you, but the adrenaline roaring in your ears drowns the words out.

With an impressed yet condescending smile on his face, Greed claps a hand on your shoulder. “You really don’t know how to stay down, do you?” he marvels. He tugs what’s left of your eyepatch off your head and throws it to the ground. You watch the black fabric flutter to the ground and your knees buckle. With a scoff, Greed turns away, slowly making his way over to Ed.

You stare at the ruined cloth on the ground beside your face, and something shifts in your mind. Mental gears whirring, you consider Greed’s words from before.

He’d said that his body was human, which meant a third of it was carbon. The hardness of carbon is dependent on how the atoms are arranged... so his shield was made of carbon, and could be altered.

You’re not the best at that kind of alchemy—the kind that Ed and Al use—but this is your only option.

You try to stand, and fail. You cough and a hot splatter of blood hits the floor, leaving a metallic taste in your mouth.

Failure is not an option.

You drag yourself to your feet and stagger all the way over to the other side of the room, where Greed stands above your best friend, gloating. You half-throw yourself at the man, and he stumbles, not expecting you at all. You press your hands to his midsection and you push your alchemy into him, and you feel the armor beneath your hands soften.

...Now what?

Fuck, you didn’t think this far ahead. You were so focused on lowering his defenses that you had neglected to think of what to do if you succeeded.

Greed looks at you, then down at his stomach, and then back at you again. After a moment, he starts to laugh. “Jeez kid, I think your brain is scrambled. What were you hoping to—?!”

You see something move out of the corner of your eye, and when you blink, you see the detached blade from Ed’s arm piercing through Greed’s stomach.

As the man staggers several steps back, your eye focuses enough to see Ed upright—slumped heavily against the wall, yes, but upright nonetheless. He has a shard of his broken blade clenched in his fist, and he winces before dropping it to the floor.

Your legs choose that moment to collapse again, and your body slams into his. You fall to the ground together.

You hear Greed laughing somewhere to your right, but you can’t seem to get your head to turn where you want it to. “It seems,” he guffaws loudly, “that I underestimated the two of you! But how long will you be able to keep it up in your condition?”

You hear his pounding footsteps approaching, and you lock eyes with Ed. You reach out weakly, and he grips your good hand with his. After a moment, you feel a tear drip down your cheek and your eyelid falls shut.

Is this really it?

I’m sorry, Ed.

I’m so sorry.

“E-Ed,” you rasp, blood gurgling in your throat. “I lov—”

Your words are drowned out by a sudden explosion behind you. Dust and debris swirl in the air and you hear a familiar voice call out: “Sorry to barge in like this!”

Teacher?!

“You think it’s funny to—?!” She cuts herself off suddenly. You hear her growl and then start running. The familiar sound of alchemy fills the air as she roars, and then the sound of a body hitting a wall with enough force to break the stone. (You’d become very familiar with the sound over the course of the last half hour, experiencing it yourself too many times.)

You hear Greed laugh as you cough more blood onto the ground.

“Well now...!” he laughs. “Just what the hell are you!?”

“You ask what I am?” Izumi replies. A beat of silence, then: “A HOUSEWIFE!!!”

Chapter Text

“I still have too long a life ahead to get rid of these feelings, right? I want to try doing over the things I’ve left undone. I thought I was running after something carried over from my dreams, yet I’m stumbling into people on this narrow, winding road. It’s not like I want to go back to the way things were back then; I’m just searching for the sky I’ve been losing. Here’s hoping you’ll understand. Stop making that sad face as though you were a victim. Sins don’t end in tears; you have to carry the pain forever. Who am I waiting for in this maze of emotions with no way out in sight? I want to purge myself more simply, as if writing in a blank notebook. What is it I want to escape from? ...Is it reality? It makes me want to scream that we’re alive for things to come true. Can you hear me? I can’t put up with playing it safe. ...I’ve got nowhere to go home to! I’m always grateful for kindness; that’s why I want to grow stronger (I’m on the way). I even welcome this pain for the things I miss.”
—Yui, Again

※※※

Greed lunges at the man before him, throwing everything he has into the punch. His opponent, Führer King Bradley, dodges to the side, and the homunculus’ shielded fist glances off the side of his head, severing the strap of his eyepatch. In one swift motion, the older man sends the blades of both of his swords through the other's throat.

“I understand why you'd think you have an advantage over a man like me," he begins, almost amicably, "since I possess neither your impenetrable Ultimate Shield, nor an Ultimate Spear that can pierce any substance." His tone changes sharply, dropping to a growl, low and dangerous. “But I'll tell you a secret." He leans in close to the homunculus, faces inches apart. "Do you know how I managed to distinguish myself amongst the storms of bullets on the battlefield time after time; to rise to my current position?”

As he digs the blades in deeper, blood gushes from Greed’s mouth, dribbling down his chin in a hot stream. “Y-You're—!” he gags, choking on the blood filling his throat and lungs.

Slowly, the Führer tilts his head up, revealing the ouroboros tattoo emblazoned on his newly uncovered eye, the red mark in place of where his pupil should be.

“I may not have the protection of your Ultimate Shield...” he growls, digging his blades even further into Greed’s throat. “...but I clearly see your weakness with my Ultimate Eye.” He yanks his blades free from the man, who collapses to the floor, a puddle of blood quickly pooling around him. “Now then, Greed; how many times am I going to have to kill you before you stay dead?”

Greed looks up at the man looming over him. He is shrouded in shadows, his left eye burning red. Hot, metallic blood spills out from behind his clenched teeth, and for the first time in his long, long life, he learns what fear feels like.

※※※

The sterile scent of antiseptic hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the muted sounds of bustling nurses and the distant beeping of machines. You're sitting on the edge of Ed’s hospital bed, the stark white sheets contrasting sharply with the deepening bruises that mark his skin. Your bed is in a different room, but fortunately you aren't bedridden anymore, so you choose to spend most of your time in here with him. The rest of the time, he's in your room with you.

You've been in this hospital for too long, and you're getting antsy.

“Stop fidgeting,” he grumbles, attempting to swat your hand away as you absently trace the edge of the bandage wrapped around his arm.

“I can’t help it,” you shoot back, unable to suppress a smirk. “You’re the one who looks like he got hit by a train.”

He huffs in response, turning his head to glare at the window. “You don't look much better," he retorts. “Besides, we'll be out of here soon enough. It’s not like we're going to stay cooped up in this place forever.”

A hint of a smile breaks through his stubborn facade. “But for now, I guess I’m stuck with you.” You chuckle lightly, the sound feeling strangely warm in the cold, clinical environment.

“At least you’re not alone in here,” you remark. “Here, I brought you something.” Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a crumpled piece of paper, carefully smoothing it out on your lap. “It’s a drawing,” you explain, offering it to him.

Ed takes the paper, curiosity flickering in his eyes. The drawing depicts you, him, and Al standing against a backdrop of swirling clouds, each of you depicted with exaggerated features; Ed’s infamous scowl is prominent, and Al has anime-style blush over his metal cheeks. You drew yourself showing off your “muscles” like a cool tough guy. You’d even drawn a little sun shining above, wearing a cool pair of sunglasses, of course.

He blinks at the drawing, a chuckle escaping his lips as he studies it. “You’ve really got a way with art, don’t you?”

“It’s not exactly a masterpiece,” you admit wryly, “but I thought it might cheer you up a little.”

He snorts. “We look ridiculous,” he says, tracing his finger over the little hair-antenna you'd drawn on him.

“That's the point,” you grin. “It’s either laugh at this or cry about everything else.”

Ed smirks, though there’s a glint of something softer in his eyes. “You really think making stupid drawings is going to fix everything?”

“Not everything,” you admit, “but it helps. We can’t always be running around trying to fix the world, y’know. Sometimes we just need to take a breather.”

You take a moment to think about what you just said, and then you shake your head with a sigh. “A breather,” you huff. “Who am I kidding? We’re lucky to be breathing at all.”

Ed looks over at you, his expression softening a bit. “You know, things might actually get better. We’re still standing, after all. That’s something, isn't it?”

You raise an eyebrow, a skeptical smile on your lips. “Yeah, for now. But standing doesn’t mean much if we don’t know where we’re headed."

Ed shrugs, a small grin forming. “We’ll figure it out. It’s what we do, right? We’ve been through worse, and we’re still here.”

“That’s debatable,” you reply, though there’s less bite in your tone. "It’s more like we survive, not really live."

“Maybe surviving is enough for now,” he counters, looking a little more determined. “We’ll live when we can. But for now, at least we’re still moving forward.”

You pause, then sigh, leaning back against the bed frame.

"Maybe. I guess I just don’t like not having a plan.”

Ed chuckles lightly. “We never have a plan, Echo. But that’s what we’re good at—figuring things out as we go.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eye, but the tension in your shoulder eases. “Maybe I do. Or maybe I'm just stuck with you.”

Ed smirks, resting his head back on the pillow. “Same thing.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background. You glance over at him, and for a moment, it feels like despite everything, you're both in the same place—unsure, but still moving.

※※※

Finally, after a few weeks in the hospital, you and Ed are deemed healthy enough to be discharged.

The night after your release, you meet up with Major Armstrong outside Izumi’s house to debrief on the events that had transpired on the day of Al’s kidnapping.

Ed works on shining Al’s new chest-plate as he speaks; the old one had been destroyed while extracting the dead body of one of Greed’s henchmen from inside the boy’s hollow chest.

You can't even begin to imagine how traumatizing that must have been for him. From what he'd told you, he'd been trying to protect the girl—a human chimera named Martel—by hiding her inside of his own body while Bradley killed her companions. She'd fought back, taking control of Al's body from the inside, using the boy's own hands to attack the Führer. Despite Al's cries for mercy, Bradley had stabbed snake girl right through Al's armor.

You don't even want to think about what it must have been like for him, having a dead girl sitting inside of his body. Somehow, though, the boy you see as your own brother is acting relatively normally. You suppose it's actually not that surprising—after all, between the three of you, you have enough trauma to last a lifetime.

“There’s something I forgot to mention,” Al informs Major Armstrong. “Greed had an ouroboros tattoo.”

The Major pauses. “I’m... not sure I follow.”

“Think back,” Ed replies. “The Fifth Laboratory? The Philosopher’s Stone? Remember the guys we told you and Colonel Hughes about?”

Armstrong stiffens suddenly. “Colonel Hughes...! I—!” He cuts himself off abruptly.

Noticing the sudden shift in tone, you lean forward from where you sit, perched on the small set of stairs leading to the back door of the house. “Sir...?” you prompt, wary of the normally boisterous man’s hesitation.

The large man circles around from his place behind Ed, coming to kneel down before him. He gives you both a stern, solemn look as he speaks his next words. “Listen, you two,” he says, enunciating carefully. “Do not!  Do anything rash.”

As he looks intensely between you and Ed, something in his gaze sends goosebumps over your skin. You nod once, slowly, in response.

The man seems satisfied by this, and he slowly pushes himself back upright and begins walking away. “Well then,” he says, not looking back as he leaves. “Good night.”

Just as the Major disappears from sight, Al speaks up. “Hey guys?” he starts, hesitating. “...They’re back. All the memories of when my body was taken away? ...I remember.”

“Really?” you exclaim. “Al, that’s... that's great! What did you see?”

The boy pauses, thinking. “Well,” he says finally, waving his arms around the same way that Ed and Izumi had. “It was definitely weird!” he chuckles. “But unfortunately, I didn’t find out anything about how to get our bodies back,” he finishes somberly, 

“It’s not your fault, Al,” you reassure softly, biting back your own disappointment.

You should have known better than to get your hopes up.

The boy looks down at his hands. “So, I guess we haven’t made any progress.”

Ed stands up and stretches, nudging the bucket of metal polish with his foot. “No,” he says thoughtfully. “That’s not entirely true. Do you two remember what the Führer told us back in Central?” he muses. “About the unrest amongst the ranks of the Military?”

Thinking back, you recall the conversation. “Yeah,” you nod, nibbling on the edge of your thumb absently. “He said it all had something to do with the Philosopher’s Stone and those ouroboros people. He mentioned wanting to gather information on them, right?”

“Well, Greed obviously had something to do with them,” Ed says, and the image of the man displaying the mark emblazoned on his hand flashes through your mind.

“But if that’s the case,” you wonder aloud, “then why did the Führer slaughter everyone? If he really was trying to get more info, then why didn’t he capture them and force them to talk?”

“Good point,” Al agrees. “And it also seems a little weird that the Führer himself would lead an attack against such a small group...”

“It sure does.” Ed puts his hands on his hips, brows knit together in thought. “No matter how you look at it, none of this adds up.” He looks back over his shoulder at you and Al, his gaze unreadable. “We’ve been warned..." Suddenly, his gaze hardens, determined. "But we need to get closer.”

As you exchange determined glances, a renewed sense of purpose fills the air. You may not have all the answers yet, but together, you'll face whatever comes next.

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.”
—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

Rush Valley is just as busy and bustling as the last time you were there. You and the boys make your way through the crowd, approaching a shop called Atelier Garfiel, where you see a familiar head of blonde hair.

“Hello there, Winry,” Ed calls out, and the girl turns, surprised. She’s holding a big box of various machine parts, and they clang together noisily as she shifts the weight to rest on her hip. “You look like you’re in a very generous mood today!” Ed continues.

“Hi guys!” Winry smiles. “What are you guys doing, showing up like this?”

With a sheepish grin, Ed holds up his right arm, displaying the damage that had been done to the automail, and Winry’s smile goes sour.

Calmly, she reaches into the box at her hip and pulls out a large, heavy-looking wrench, and then whacks the boy at your side square on the head.

After a few moments, she leads you all inside the shop and has Ed lie down on a wooden table. “Even Paninya is holding down an honest job now,” she scolds as she works on his arm, “and you three still can’t stay out of trouble?!”

“Is she really?” you ask, surprised, and Winry pauses her work, glancing at you and Al over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she says, a hint of fondness in her voice. “She’s given up her former life as a pickpocket, and now she earns her money by fixing roofs and doing other odd-jobs around town.” She smiles to herself for a moment before her expression twists back into one of irritation, turning back to Ed and his arm. “And what about the three of you, huh?” she snaps. “Made any progress yet?”

Al straightens up. “Yeah, we have!” he says excitedly. “It’s slow going, though.”

Ed hoists himself into a sitting position on the table, his back to Winry. “We’re still moving ahead, little by little,” he says proudly. “...I guess.” He tacks the second part on as an afterthought, mostly to himself, you imagine.

Winry takes a deep breath through her nose and lowers her chin in a nod. “Good,” she says firmly. “I’m glad to hear it.”

After a few minutes, Winry sits up. “Alright,” she sighs. “I’ve done everything I can for now.”

Ed sits up, swinging his legs off the table and hopping to the ground. He stretches his arms above his head and lets out a satisfied little noise. “Thanks Winry!”

“I’m missing some parts, so you’ll have to make due with a patch job,” she warns. “I’ll go get what we need, but until then, you’ve got some time to kill.”

※※※

The three of you stroll through the streets of Rush Valley, Ed sipping on a cup of juice he’d bought from one of the stands.

You let out a sigh. “Killing time sucks,” you mutter. “There’s nothing to do here! This whole town is full of nothing but automail shops.”

You glance next to you at the brothers, and notice that Al is no longer there. After a moment, you realize that he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, looking into a narrow alleyway between two buildings.

“Guys...?” he says.

You and Ed walk over. “What now?” Ed sighs, just as bored as you. “Did you find a stray cat or something?”

“Uh...” Al responds. “Well, no.” He turns to reveal an unconscious man that he’s holding up by the back of the shirt.

※※※

After the man has eaten over thirteen full plates of food, he straightens up, planting his palms on the table and letting out a satisfied whoosh of air. “Whoo! I feel so much better! You guys are life-savers—thanks a lot!” He picks at his teeth with a toothpick, grinning widely at you and the brothers. “Your treat, right?”

You give the black-haired man a deadpan stare. “We never said that we were paying.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Let’s not quibble over something so small!” he says, and you and Ed bristle simultaneously. The man pulls a handkerchief out of his sleeve and wipes a tear from his eye. “How lucky I am, to have found such hospitality, so far from home!”

“Far from home?” Al repeats. “So you mean you’re not from here?”

“That’s right! I’m from Xing!”

“Xing...” Ed muses. “That’s... the country to the east of the desert?”

“Yeah,” the man confirms. “And crossing that desert was rough, let me tell you!”

“Why in the world would you take that route?” questions Al.

“Well,” responds the man. “I wanted to visit the ruins of Xerxes; that route goes by them!”

You ponder this. “Why would you want to visit the ruins? I heard that there’s next to nothing there.”

“Well, I wanted to see for myself!” the man says cheerfully. “Anyway, I was headed here to do some alkahestry research!”

“Alkahestry...?”

“Yes! I hear it’s what people in this country call ‘alchemy’!” he quips. “In Xing, it’s called alkahestry. It’s mainly used in the medical professions.”

“Hm,” Ed muses. “Different countries, different customs, I guess. Here, alchemy is used as mainly military, and it’s not hard to see why. Even now, we still have skirmishes at the borders of Aerugo to the south, and Creta to the west,” he explains. “North of us is the huge country Drachma. We have a tentative non-aggression pact with them, and Briggs Mountain stands between us, making invasion difficult, but our relationship is still dicey at best.”

“Sounds like you guys have got your hands full, alright,” agrees the man.

“Things began to move to the more militaristic when the current Führer, King Bradley, first came into power,” continues Ed.

“I have to say,” you chime in, “I’m curious about alkahestry. Alchemy that’s meant specifically to heal? That sounds interesting, to be sure.” Both brothers voice their agreement.

The man looks blasé. “By any chance, are the three of you alchemists?”

“Yeah, we are, actually!” Ed confirms. “I’m Edward Elric, and this is Echo Slade; we’re State Alchemists. This is my younger brother, Alphonse.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Al says cheerfully.

The man stands up from his chair and holds out his hand to shake. “My name’s Ling Yao; it’s a pleasure.”

“So, Ling!” Ed says with a grin. “What else can you tell us about alkahestry? We’d sure love to learn more!”

“Nothing!” he says cheerfully. “Sorry, but I'm not actually an alkahestrist!”

You and the brothers are dumbfounded. “If you don’t practice alkahestry,” Ed snaps, eye twitching, “why come all the way here to research it?!”

“Ah, see, I’m looking for something!” Ling replies, resting his chin in his hand. “It’s possible you three have heard of it before.” He pauses, cracking open his eyes as he utters his next words. “The Philosopher's Stone.” His words cause the three of you to stiffen, and he continues in a low, velvety voice. “I’m very eager to find it. Do you know anything about it?”

Ed glances at you from the corner of his eyes, as if asking what to do, but you’re just as uncertain as he is. After a beat, he turns on his heel and starts walking away dismissively. “Sorry,” he calls over his shoulder. “Can’t help you.”

A smirk grows across Ling’s face as you and Al rise to your feet to follow the blonde boy. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?” he purrs.

Then, out of nowhere, there is a dagger to your throat. Choking on a gasp, you lurch backward, surveying the scene. There are two other people here now, both wearing masks. One holds up a sword to Al’s chest plate, and the other has a knife in each hand, one pointed at you and the other to Ed’s back.

“So, do you have something to tell me?” Ling lilts after you, sounding entirely too pleased.

You want to be mad, but can’t seem to muster the strength. You’re so tired of your family being put in danger. You just want them to be happy and safe; you want just one normal day—just one minute that you didn’t have to spend worrying about whether or not the brothers are safe.

“Why the interest in the Philosopher's Stone?” you ask coolly.

You can hear the grin in the man’s voice as he says his next words. “I want to achieve immortality.”

The man hoists himself to his feet. “Out with it—what do you know?”

“Immortality?” Ed repeats. “Please. What a bunch of nonsense.”

“Not to me, it isn't.”

“In any case, I don’t think I care too much for your way of asking questions,” Ed says. In one swift motion, he shoves the blade away from himself with one arm, the other arm swinging back to punch its wielder in the face. “Kinda rude, don’t you think?” Before his blow can land, the masked figure leaps into the air, and you shove him out of the way just before they come flipping back down, kicking at the spot where the boy was just standing.

“Brother!” Al shouts, shoving the other masked person’s sword away from himself.

“You’re gonna fight us too?” the man growls, swinging his sword.

Al grabs the blade and yanks the sword away from the man. “Hold on!” he shouts.

Suddenly, the man throws himself forward, flipping in the air and landing a solid kick to Al’s chest plate, knocking the boy onto his back, sprawled onto the ground next to where you and Ed had landed.

“Jeez, is that guy an acrobat?” Ed growls.

“It must be a Xingese fighting style,” you mutter, blowing a loose strand of hair from your eye. “These guys probably won’t go down easy.”

“Even so,” Ed says as the three of you push yourselves up from the dirt. “They’re still not as strong as Teacher!”

※※※

What commences is an all-out brawl that stretches halfway across the city. Al and one of the masked fighters had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving you and Ed to fight the other.

Ed transmutes a fighting staff from a long stretch of metal piping along a wall, and you produce a dusky black sword with a long, thin blade.

Ed slams his staff toward your opponent’s head, but they dodge swiftly and easily. Grasping a long string hanging off one edge of their mask, they loop it around the end of his weapon and pull hard, snapping the metal clean in half.

Turning quickly on their foot, they jab a fist into Ed’s face, dodge a jab from your blade, and swivel to kick you hard on the wrist, the weapon dropping from your grip and disintegrating as your concentration fractures.

Frustrated, you lash out in a punch, but they lope their arm under yours, locking your elbow in place and hyper-extending it. From behind, Ed aims a kick at their head, and they duck under, unlocking your arm and flipping backward away from you, landing gracefully on their feet.

Grimacing, you grip your aching elbow with your other hand. “Damn, you’re persistent,” Ed barks out beside you. “Picking a fight like this just because we won’t give you information?! What are you guys after? You and your boss with the freaky closed eyes!”

Quick as a flash, the masked fighter darts forward and tries to poke Ed’s eyes out. Since you’re apparently now fighting dirty, you throw yourself onto their back, wrapping your arms and legs around their body tightly and bite down on their shoulder, hard. Seeming surprised, they slam an elbow into your nose, and you land hard on your back on the metal roof.

Shoving yourself back up, you throw yourself back into the fray.

“What’s the matter?” Ed taunts between blows. “You’re starting to slow down a little! If this is the best his flunkies can manage, that bastard Ling must be pretty pathetic too!”

Through the holes in the mask, you can see the person’s eyes narrowing before they fling themself at Ed, who dodges under their arm and slams an elbow into their gut. Swinging yourself down, you sweep your foot under their legs, knocking the person to the ground.

“Now then!” Ed snarls, pressing a hand flat against your opponent’s mask. “It’s time for me to get a look at your face!”

In a blast of alchemy, the mask shatters under his hand, revealing the face of...

...a pretty young woman?

In the moment of your surprise, the woman reaches behind her and hurls a dagger into your automail, which stiffens and sparks painfully. Then she pulls out a grenade, pulling the pin with her teeth, dropping it at her feet before dashing away.

There is an ear shattering BANG, and then the next thing you know, you’re being yanked away by your arm and dragged underneath some metal piping with Ed. The steel bars mostly shield you from the blast of rubble that follows, but a stray chunk of concrete smashes into your unresponsive automail, which you’re unable to bend to tuck under with you. With the shriek of metal on metal, it snaps off at the elbow and slams into your head.

In the few moments of silence that follow, you blink the dust and stars from your eyes, crawling out from under the pipe work to see that Ed had strung the woman up using alchemy on a steel beam that had been exposed in the explosion.

“Hey Lady!” you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. “You should be more careful where you use that thing! It would have killed anybody else!”

Looking around, you grab your severed automail and move to stand by Ed’s side, glaring up at the woman.

“Brother! Echo!”

You both turn to see Al walking up to the two of you. An old man—the other fighter, it seems—is tucked under one of his arms, and Paninya is by his side.

“Oh, hey Al!” Ed greets.

Suddenly, Ling pops up near Paninya. “Okay!” he calls out happily. “Good work, guys!”

Your face sours. This asshole is the reason for all this mess. “What the fuck are you smiling about, dirtbag?!” you shout.

The man seems unperturbed. “You guys have some pretty impressive skills!” he cheers. “I know! Come work for me and we can take over this country! Whadya say?”

Anger boiling up in you, you stalk up to the man and shove your face in his. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit!” you yell. “What’s your fucking problem?!”

“Look!” shouts a man’s voice. “There they are!” All of you turn to see that a large crowd had formed nearby, and they were very unhappy.

“Look at the mess you’ve made!” shouts another man. “You’ve practically destroyed our whole town!”

“You’re covering the damages!”

“And your restaurant bill, too!”

Ed seems taken aback. “Hey, wait!” he hollers, waving his hands. “Just hold on a second!”

“Yeah!” you shout. “This loser and his little entourage will be the one paying for everything!”

You turn and point at Ling, who begins to wiggle and wave his hands around. “So sorry!” he say cheerfully, plastering on a fake accent. “I-a no understand much-a language of this-a country! Okay, bye-bye now!” He says this last part as he scurries away quickly.

“Hey, you get the fuck back here!” you scream at his retreating back.

You hear a small noise from Al and turn to see that the woman whom Ed had bound was no longer strung up on the rebar, and the man Al had tied up was also missing. “They ran away!” he exclaims.

“How am I supposed to fix this place up when I've gotta get Echo back to Winry for a repair?” Ed muses, mostly to himself.

“I could always take myself back to Winry, you know,” you insert, secretly pleased that the thought of not going with you hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“It’s okay, you two,” Al says, straightening up and bringing his hands together. “I’ll take care of it.”

Noticing his stance, you’re surprised. “Al, you can do alchemy without a transmutation circle now? Since when?!”

“Yeah!” the boy agrees. “I think it’s because of the memories I recovered.”

You can see the cogs turning in Ed’s head, and could only guess that he just realized that the only thing that he could do better than his brother—his taller, talented, taller, charismatic, taller brother—was now gone. The boy visibly deflates, his dignity lost.

“Don’t worry,” Al continues, seemingly unaware of Ed’s bruised ego. “You can leave this all to me!”

※※※

When you and Ed get back to the shop, you’re greeted by a nasty surprise.

“Hello! We meet again!”

Ling is sitting at a table next to Garfiel, drinking a cup of tea. He looks pleased to see you.

Before you can react, Ed steps forward and clocks the man over the head, causing him to splash the hot tea all over the front of his shirt. “What’s your sorry butt doing here?!” he demands.

Ling laughs as he attempts to mop the tea from him clothes. “Now, now,” he chirps. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Is that how you treat your friends?” you snap. “By siccing your dogs on them? Those two didn’t exactly go easy on us!”

Ling laughs again. “Let it go! I promise I’ll give them a talking to later.” He waves his hand thankfully as Garfiel pours him a new cup of tea. “The girl’s name is Lan Fan,” he informs you. “The old man is called Fu. Their family has served mine for generations. They’re quite good at what they do.”

“Oh,” Ed replies blandly. “So you shake down strangers for food and yet you can somehow afford two personal attendants?”

“Well, I am the emperor’s son, after all,” Ling shrugs.

“Emperor’s son?” you repeat slowly. “That makes you... the prince?!”

You picture the man before you in a fancy suit atop a white horse, rose petals showering down around him. You snort at the thought, and before you can stop it, you and Ed collapse in laughter.

“...Not the reaction I anticipated,” Ling mutters.

“Didn’t see that one coming!” you giggle.

“Yeah,” Ed chuckles. “The guy who collapsed on the road and then mooched food off of us is the son of an emperor!”

You blink, and when you open your eyes, there is a dagger embedded in the wall a hair’s breadth from your face, and the sight cuts off your laughter abruptly.

You see the woman from before—Lan Fan—peeking out from the edge of a window outside. She shoots you a deathly glare. “You will not speak badly about Master Ling,” she commands.

“Great to see you,” Ed deadpans sarcastically.

“No, you’re probably right,” Ling chuckles. “It’s not actually that big a deal! The emperor has a lot of sons,” he explains. “It’s like this: my country—Xing—is broken up between fifty different clans, with an emperor at the top, reigning over all of them. The daughter of each clan’s chief becomes one of the emperor’s wives, and bears his children. The current emperor has nineteen daughters, and twenty-four sons. I come in at number twelve in that lineup.”

You count on your fingers quickly, “Forty-three kids?!” you gasp. “That’s insane.”

“The issue of succession must be tricky,” Ed says.

“Indeed it is! That’s the problem we’re facing right now. The emperor’s health has begun to deteriorate recently. Each clan is doing everything they can to curry favor, and I’m no exception.”

“You wanna up your chances by discovering the secret to immortality,” Ed concludes.

“Exactly!” Ling laughs. "Okay; the Philosopher's Stone—what information can you offer?”

“Not happening!” you sneer.

“The Stone isn’t a tool for some political game,” Ed continues.

“Welllll,” Ling replies in a sing-song voice, rising from his chair. He throws his arms around you and Ed, pulling you both into a tight hug. “Then I’ll have to stay with you until you tell me!”

As you and Ed beat the man away from you, you hear Winry’s voice from behind you. “I’m back!” she calls. “Did you see that? There was some kind of fight on Main Street, so it took awhile to—”

Walking into the room, she sees Ling clinging to Ed’s leg, who has his hand on the man’s face, shoving him away while you hold up your detached metal arm to strike.

Instantly, her eyes zero in on the bent metal where your arm is supposed to attach, and the light leaves her eyes.

Al walks in behind her, oblivious to the hell that’s about to break loose, seemingly done repairing the city. “Hey, I—!” he starts.

“What happened to your arm?!” Winry shrieks before the boy can get out another word, rushing over and clobbering you over the head.

※※※

After a lot of yelling and scrambling away from Winry’s projectiles, she sits you and Ed down in the back room to work on repairs. She finishes fixing Ed’s arm first, using the pieces she’d been missing earlier before moving on to you.

“Believe it or not, the damage isn’t too bad,” she informs you. “The hinges at the elbow are shattered and I’ll have to weld the metal back together, but I have everything I need, and it should only take an hour or two.”

“Thanks so much, Winry. I’m really sorry about all this,” you say apologetically, and she hums in acknowledgment.

After a few moments of tinkering, she speaks up again. “So where are you three headed to break your automail this time?”

“You just assume we’ll break it?” Ed sasses, rubbing a sore spot on his head.

Ignoring him, Al answers, “We were thinking of doing some digging in Central.”

She humphs. “Just try to stay safe!”

From behind you, you hear a familiar voice out the window. “We’re going to Central?” chirps Ling. “Oh, how exciting!” Turning, you see the man hanging upside down in the window, leaning over from the roof of the shop.

“I told you—!” yells Ed, “You’re not coming with us!!"

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.”
—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

You sit on the floor with Alphonse and help him polish his armor. You scrape a small patch of rust off his back, and you can’t help but to notice all of the many scrapes, dents, and scratches that adorn him.

A deafening silence fills the air, and the weight of it presses heavily on your chest. You finish with Al’s back, and for a few moments, you linger behind him, picking at the skin around your nails.

Eventually, the silence becomes too much for you. You turn to look over your shoulder at Ed, who is lying on his side on one of the beds, back to you and Al, staring at the wall in front of him.

“So... what now?” you ask. “What’s the plan?”

For a long, long moment, he stays silent. Finally, he shifts, bringing his arm up in front of him and staring into the metal of his palm. “What are we gonna do?” he repeats, a heavy sadness resounding in his voice.

You can’t blame him, of course. After all, you’ve just found out that Maes Hughes is dead.

You’d gone back to his house to pay the man and his family a visit, as per his request. Imagine your surprise when Gracia answered the door, tear tracks staining her face as she informed you that her husband had been murdered not even a week earlier.

Elicia’s face flashes through your mind, and your heart aches. The carefree, happy-go-lucky little girl that you had met that spring was gone. In her place was a lost, broken child without a father.

As silence consumes the room once again, you think back to how you lost your own parents, and you wonder when you forgot what they looked like.

You push yourself to your feet and walk slowly across the room, turning to look out the window. You cross your arms and grip your elbows tightly. “I never told you what happened to my parents,” you say slowly.

You feel the boys’ eyes on your back as you swallow. They’d asked a few times over the many years that you’d known them, but you’d always brushed them off.

It’s not a memory that you like to dwell on.

You gather your thoughts and almost chicken out, a shudder rolling down your back. You close your eye and force the words out.

“It was storming that night,” you begin, almost mechanically. “It was late, and I was upstairs in my parents’ bed. I had a nightmare, so they told me that I could sleep with them that night. Mom and Dad were downstairs in the living room, and I guess the rain and the thunder were too loud for them to hear who was coming.”

Your heart pounds loudly as the memories wash over you. “All of a sudden, my mom rushed into the room and locked the door behind her. She dragged me out of bed, shoved me into the closet, and told me not to move or make a sound until the sun came up. She told me she loved me, then kissed me on the forehead and closed the closet door.

“I was confused and scared, so I squeezed myself into a half-empty box of clothes in the back corner and then pulled the flaps closed above me. Downstairs, I heard my dad shouting, and then I heard some loud thumps, and the sound of stuff breaking.

“A group of men had broken into the house. I don’t know who they were or why they were there, and I don’t think I ever want to. They broke down the door to the bedroom, and I heard them laughing and shouting to each other as my mom screamed and begged. They knocked over a bunch of furniture and smashed all the windows.

“I heard the closet door open, and was too scared to move. I didn’t know what was happening and I wanted to cry, but Mom had told me not to make a sound, so I just curled up in the box and covered my ears, but it did nothing to block out the sound. They...” Your voice falters, and for a moment you’re struck with an intense urge to run away. You don’t want to finish this story. “They—” you try again, and again, your voice cuts out.

“Echo,” murmurs Al quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, and grip your arms even tighter. Abruptly, you realize that you’re shaking. “No,” you croak. “You guys deserve to know the truth.”

You clear your throat and take another deep breath before continuing. “They took turns,” you rasp, “raping my mom. I was too young to understand at the time, but the sound of her screaming still gives me nightmares sometimes.

“Eventually, everything was quiet. I waited for hours and hours. I heard the birds start to sing, and I waited some more. Eventually, I peeked out from the box and saw that the sun was staring to rise.

“My mom was face-down on the bed. Her clothes had been torn, and there was so much blood on the sheets. I tried to shake her awake, but she wouldn’t move, so I ran downstairs to find my dad. He was in the living room, in front of the fireplace, and his brains were all over the carpet.

“I was terrified, and alone. I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of—I ran. I ran all day long, and I didn’t stop, not even when the storm kicked back up. I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore, and in the distance, I saw a house. I walked until I got closer, but I was so tired and thirsty that I didn’t make it all the way to the front door. I collapsed in the garden outside and cried until I passed out.”

You wipe away a tear before you turn around, sitting on the windowsill and staring hard into your lap. “And then you guys found me,” you conclude, voice thick.

“Echo...” From the corner of your eye, you see Ed stand up and start walking toward you, but he stops when you flinch back.

“Their names were Helena and Adrian Slade,” you murmur. “What happened to them was horrible and fucked up and completely meaningless, and I wasn’t okay for a long time after that. But eventually, thanks to you guys and thanks to Trisha... eventually, I got better.”

You sniffle, and this time, you don’t stop Ed as he comes over and wraps his arms around you tightly. You close your eye and press your face into his shoulder. After a moment, you feel Al on your other side, and for a few moments, the three of you stand in silence and hug it out.

After the two of them pull back, you sniff again. “If I can recover from that,” you explain, “then I know that Elicia and Gracia will be okay too. Mister Hughes was a great man who deserved to grow old with his family, and I know they’re going to miss him—hell, I miss him, and I didn’t even know him that well. But I also know that eventually, everything is going to be okay.”

※※※

You’re woken up from your nap by the sound of the door slamming open. Flinching, you fall out of bed in a tangle of sheets.

“Brother, Echo!” Al shouts from the doorway, a newspaper clenched in his fist.

“Holy fuck Al—don’t scare me like that!” you yelp as you free yourself from the web of blankets.

“The newspaper,” pants the boy as he slaps it down on the coffee table. “Read the front page!”

Concerned about the boy’s worried tone, you cross to the center of the room as you and Ed peer down at the newspaper.

As you read the headline, your blood turns to ice.

Second Lieutenant Maria Ross Convicted of Brigadier General Hughes’ Murder.

※※※

You’re on your way to Central Command to get some answers from Colonel Mustang and the others when suddenly, you cross paths with Lieutenant Ross herself. By her side is Ling Yao and, even more surprisingly, Barry the Chopper, who has a butcher’s knife  in each fist.

“Lieutenant Ross!” you and the brothers shout simultaneously.

“What are you guys doing here?!” she questions.

Suddenly, Al and Barry point at each other. “Ah! You’re that guy!!” they yell at the same time. “And Ling too?!” Al continues.

The man rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, guys!” he greets nervously. “What are you up to?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” you shout.

“Quit chattering!” Barry roars, raising one of his knives above his head and then swiping it down at Alphonse. “We don’t have time for this!” The boy flips backward, away from the attack. “Alright sweetheart,” he continues. “You take that back alley and run straight to the warehouse district,” he commands Ross, referring to the alleyway behind him. “The darkness ought to hide you.”

Ross begins running. “Wait, hold on!” Ed demands. “Tell us about Hughes!”

She pauses. “Get going!” roars Barry. “If the MPs show up, they’ll shoot you!”

For a moment, the woman hesitates, looking conflicted. Then, after a beat, she takes off running again.

“Miss Ross!” you shout.

“Stay back!” the armored criminal warns.

“No, wait!” Ed yells after her. “Lieutenant Ross!!”

You and the brothers circle off against Barry for a few moments, and then suddenly, there is a huge explosion in the distance.

“What was that?!” exclaims Ed.

Barry turns to look back over his shoulder. “Looks like they got her!”

You and the Ed take off toward the explosion, slipping past Barry as Al faces off against him.

When you get to the mouth of the alley you stop short. Roy Mustang stands before you, his back turned. On the ground behind him lies a charred, smoking body, burned beyond recognition—Ross.

Mustang turns to glance at you over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Hey there, you two,” he says slowly.

You tear your eye away from the corpse on the ground to look up at Roy Mustang, a horrible sense of betrayal washing over you. You know that Hughes was his best friend, but the thought that he could do something like this—murder someone who hadn’t even stood trial yet in cold blood—is hard to swallow.

Ed balls his hands into tight fists at his sides. “What happened here?” he growls lowly. “What happened here, Colonel?! Tell me!”

“Why was Mister Hughes murdered?” you demand, rage boiling in your chest. “Why would Miss Ross—? How could you do this?! She hadn’t even stood trial!” You stalk forward until you’re standing right in front of the man and jab a finger into his chest. You have to tilt your head back to look him in the eyes. “How could you just... kill someone like this?!”

The man’s dark eyes narrow down at you, and suddenly, he shoves you roughly away from himself. You trip over the burnt body behind you and you scrape your elbow as you fall. Face twisting, you glower up at the man. “I trusted you!” you snarl at him.

Ed steps forward and helps pull you to your feet before glaring daggers at the man before you. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll make you regret it,” he hisses.

The Flame Alchemist looks down his nose. “You threaten your superior officer?” he sneers. “You forget yourself, Elric!”

You watch as Ed’s face twists into a snarl, and he goes to lunge at Mustang, but you plant yourself in front of him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you use yourself to block his view of the man.

“Ed, please don’t,” you plead. “It’s okay—I’m okay! He’s not worth it.”

The blonde boy glares at you. “It’s not okay!” he yells. “I’m going to tear him apart!”

He tries to side-step you, but you dart back in front of him. “Stop, please,” you beg. “If you touch him, they’ll throw you in jail. Please, Ed, I can’t lose you too.”

You see the boy falter, and Mustang starts walking away. Once you’re sure that Ed won’t do anything to get himself arrested, you glare at the man over your shoulder. “Just tell us why!” you demand.

He stops, but doesn’t turn around. “Maria Ross was a fugitive,” he says calmly. “Our orders were shoot to kill—so I did.”

“Is that all you have to say?!”

“On Hughes’ death—“ he interrupts, turning to face you once more. “—I’m sorry for hiding it. But you do not question orders—or ask for explanations. Just follow them. That’s what it means to be a soldier.”

※※※

You’re back at the hotel room the next evening when you hear a knock at the door.

Ed goes to answer, but suddenly, the door is blown open, sending the boy flying backward. Armstrong looms in the doorway.

“Major!” shouts Ed. “What the hell did you do that for?!”

“You listen to me, Edward Elric,” he booms before scooping the boy up by the back of his shirt with one hand, grabbing the boy’s automail with the other. “Oh, this is no good—no good at all! Your automail seems to be broken!”

“Uh, okay?”

Armstrong sets the boy down. “Yes, this is a serious situation indeed. We’ll have to repair it at once.” He turns to face you. “And you as well, Miss Slade! There’s no time to waste! Allow me to escort you to Resembool at once for repairs!”

You sweat-drop. “Mister Armstrong, what’s up? Our automail is fine.”

Al sits up. “What’s that, Major? Are we going back home?”

Armstrong looms over Al. “You, Alphonse, would stand out too much. You will stay here in Central!”

“...Okay?”

The large man then slings you and Ed over each shoulder and begins marching away. “Now then!” he booms. “We must start making arrangements for transportation right away! Come along, young ones!”

As you get further down the hallway, Ed begins to squirm. “Cut it out, Major!” he whines. “Put me down!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the man says solemnly. “These are my orders... from him.”

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.”
—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

“Resembool!” the conductor shouts. “Resembool station!”

You, Ed, and Armstrong all disembark the train. Armstrong leads the way, pausing as he exits the station to look around. The sun is warm on your skin, and you nibble at a nail as you eye the man suspiciously. “Are you going to tell us what we’re really doing here at any point, or...?”

The man stares straight ahead as the three of you walk down the path leading away from the station. “I haven’t been fully informed on the details,” he tells you. “My only orders were to retrieve the two of you and rendezvous here.”

“Rendezvous?” Ed repeats. “With who?”

“With whom,” you correct reflexively, looking around for the mystery accomplice. Ahead, you see a man sitting on the short stone wall that lines the path. He is dressed in a pair of brown slacks with a matching vest over a white dress shirt, a black jacket slung over his shoulder.

When he sees you approaching, he stands and salutes. “I’m glad you made it alright, Armstrong, sir!” he greets. Then he cuts his eyes to you and Ed and smirks. “What’s up, you two?”

“Lieutenant Breda?!”

※※※

The sun blazes down, and sweat makes your hair stick to your face and neck. Somehow, there’s sand in your boots, despite the fact that you’re riding on horseback.

The desert stretches out as far as the eye can see in all directions, the only landmarks being various stones and the occasional broken pillar. You feel your brain baking in your skull, and you can’t even remember how long you’ve been traveling—it almost feels like the sand and the heat are the only things you’ve ever known.

You’d been given a long, light-weight hooded robe to help shield you from the sun, but you’d rather deal with a sunburn than wear any article of clothing that isn’t strictly necessary in this heat. You’d stripped it off after just a few minutes, balling it up and stuffing it into a pack on the back of your horse.

“Colonel never said we’d be crossing the border,” complains Ed. “Tight-lipped bastard.”

“Mr. Han, how much further do we have left?” asks Breda.

You’d met up with the man at the edge of the desert. You don’t know much about him, but you’ve surmised that his job is to help smuggle people across the border. He leads the line of horses, and seems unaffected by the heat.

“We’ve almost made it,” he replies, lifting a hand to point at something in the distance. “Look, you can see the ruins ahead.”

Squinting against the sun, you can see what he’s referring to—the ruins are ahead at the horizon, and the heat distorts the air, making the image appear to wiggle.

Eventually, you make it there, and despite the oppressive heat, you can’t help but marvel and sight of the huge ruined city. At the center is a small pool of water, and you whoop excitedly as you rip off your boots and launch yourself in with no hesitation, Ed quickly following in suit. Steam sizzles in the air as your blazing hot automail meets the surprisingly cool water. Your skin had been burning at the area where the metal meets your skin, and you’re relieved at the cooling sensation. Behind you, the horses bend their long necks and begin to drink, snickering contentedly.

After a few minutes, you’ve cooled down enough to drag yourself reluctantly out of the water. Your clothes are soaked, but it feels too nice to care. You stretch your arms over your head, grunting in satisfaction as your back cracks. Beside you, Ed takes off his shirt, wringing it out. You feel your face heat up as you take in his toned chest and abs. After a moment, he glances at you and his cheeks turn pink as he cuts his eyes the other way. Quickly, you jerk your head the other way, your blush deepening—you hadn’t realized that you’d been staring.

“So,” you say hurriedly to Armstrong and the others, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, “this is Xerxes, huh? It looks just like the fable described it!”

Fu—the old man that had been with Ling before—turns to you, a weird look on his face. “Did you say ‘fable’?” he questions.

“Yeah, the one about the Eastern Sage,” you explain, wringing out your long hair. “It’s the story about the origin of alchemy in Amestris. It claims the entire kingdom of Xerxes was destroyed in a single night, and the only survivor wandered into Amestris not long after. He was the one who went on to spread the science of alchemy.”

“How interesting!” Fu replies. “We have a similar legend in Xing about a drifter from the West. It’s said that his teachings were combined with our ancient techniques to form the alkahestry we practice today.”

“Alkahestry is primarily used for medical needs, isn’t it?” inquires Ed, his shirt slung over one shoulder, and you make a conscious effort not to look in his direction.

“Yes,” the old man replies. “He guided this process, and we greatly revere him. We knew him as the Western Sage.”

“So the ‘West’ in his name is supposed to refer to here?” asks Breda as the five of you begin walking through the ruins. You are both relieved and disappointed as Ed puts his shirt back on.

“It is believed so, yes,” Fu confirms.

“But if Xerxes was such an advanced society, how were they wiped out in a single night?” you ask. “The fable doesn’t mention anything about it.”

“It could very well just be a legend,” replies the man.

You notice that Ed has stopped behind you, and you pause. He’s staring intently at a broken wall, and you double back, curious at what he seems so focused on.

Engraved on the wall is a complex transmutation circle. The top of it is missing and it’s been badly eroded over the years, but you realize that you are probably looking at one of the oldest transmutation circles known to man. Oddly, though, it seems familiar—you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen it before.

Just as you’re about to walk forward for a closer look, Fu’s voice rings out ahead. “What are the two of you gawking at? Come on!”

You linger for a moment longer, etching the image into your mind before running forward to rejoin the others, the blonde boy hot on your heels.

※※※

After a while, you make your way up a set of cracked stone stairs leading up to a destroyed castle.

“We’re going in pretty deep now, aren’t we?” remarks Ed to you quietly, and you hum in agreement.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rings out through the air. “Edward! Echo!”

You freeze in place as your brain matches the voice to the owner. Beside you, Ed stiffens. Simultaneously, the two of you look up in the direction of the voice, and you see a silhouette standing on a wall above.

A cloud passes over the sun, and there you see Ross, alive and well, and a huge grin breaks out over your face.

“That damn Colonel!” Ed grins.

Armstrong immediately bursts out of his shirt and into tears, sprinting forward and attempting to scoop the woman into his arms, seeming just as surprised to see her as you are.

“There really wasn’t anywhere in Amestris we could safely hide a dead woman,” explains Breda with a smile. “Especially one that’s still alive, you know?”

“So the Colonel knew that Lieutenant Ross was innocent all along?” asks Ed, and Breda nods with a smirk.

※※※

“After Madam Ross was prematurely freed, the young lord made a deal with Barry the Chopper,” explains Fu. The six of you are sitting on a few large chunks of rubble that you’d dragged into a circle in the shade of the castle. “The orders I’ve been given are to personally escort this woman to the East to take refuge.”

“So we all agreed to rendezvous here,” continues Breda, “in one big effort to aide the Lieutenant’s escape.”

Armstrong crosses his large arms over his even larger chest. “I see...” he rumbles.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Ed smirks. “I can’t believe the Colonel was able to pull one over on us like this!”

“He knew it would be easier to convince you two if you actually saw Lieutenant Ross,” Breda responds.

Ed chuckles, chagrined. “Okay, I’ll admit it—he actually knew what he was doing this time!”

“He mentioned something else—” continues the brown-haired man. “He said he didn’t want to take the chance on a couple of hot-tempered kids ruining the operation... so he sent you out here.”

“Hot-tempered?!” you and Ed shout simultaneously.

“You said ‘the operation’,” points out Armstrong. “Is there a phase beyond liberating Lieutenant Ross?”

“Indeed,” Breda confirms. “He’s got a plan to reel in the puppeteer—the one who’s behind the conspiracy.”

“No one calls me a—!” Ed cuts himself off abruptly. “Wait, what’d you say?”

“You remember Barry from the Fifth Lab, right? He went on one hell of a rampage,” smirks the man. “They’re bound to send someone to reclaim him.”

“I had nothing to do with any of this,” Ross mopes. “Zilch. And yet here I am, stuck in the middle of it, and framed by homunculi.”

Armstrong pulls out a sketch pad and rips a few pages out of it. He places them on the ground in the middle of the circle. On the pages are drawings of Lust, Envy, and Greed, as well as the ouroboros tattoo that they all share.

“We’ve collected a fair amount of intelligence,” Breda informs your group. “And once we properly piece it together, we’ll have the General’s killer.”

“I promise you this, Lieutenant,” Armstrong rumbles. “We will absolve you of this crime.”

“Mister Hughes...” you mutter, shaking your head. “It’s just hard to believe that he's really...”

Armstrong casts his gaze on you and Ed. “And what will the two of you do now?” he asks.

You don’t have an answer.

You and Ed lock eyes, and for a long moment, everything is quiet. Then, he drops his gaze to the floor. “We committed a taboo,” he murmurs. “But we still have people that help us. Some people get angry at us, and some people support us silently. Each one of them has tried to help us get our bodies back... so we have no choice.” He grips his automail shoulder tightly, a determined look on his face. “We can’t turn back. Which means all we can do is move forward, right? And we’ll protect everyone we can along the way.” His eyes harden. “I refuse to let another person become a victim—not while I’m alive.”

“It’s not going to be easy—” you continue, staring at your mismatched palms. “—and we know that. It’s hard enough just trying to take care of ourselves. But really... what other choice do we have?”

For a long moment, everybody is silent. Then, Armstrong turns to Ross. “And you, Lieutenant?” he asks. “Where do you intend to seek asylum?”

“Well,” she replies, “I think that I’m going to give Xing a shot.”

※※※

You wait until the sun starts to set before you get ready to head back home.

“Well, Lieutenant?” Armstrong asks as you prepare to part ways. “Any parting wishes? Should I tell your parents?”

Ross strokes her horse’s nose. “No, sir,” she replies. “As much as I want them to know I’m okay, I'm scared it would be too much of a risk. I just don’t want to put them in that kind of danger.”

“Very well,” Armstrong says.

“Major Armstrong? Lieutenant Breda?” she continues. “Please deliver a message to the Colonel. I need him to know how grateful I am. If there’s any way I can help him, tell him to send for me!” She raises her arm in a salute. “I owe him a great debt, and I’m willing to put my life on the line to repay it!”

The two men return her salute.

You cast your gaze to the ground for a moment, and then rush forward before you can stop yourself. You wrap your arms around the woman, pulling back to smile up at her. “Thank you for everything, Miss Ross,” you say. “I’d say ‘good luck’, but I know you’re not going to need it.”

She places a hand on your head affectionately and smiles back at you as you pull back.

“I still owe you,” Ed chimes in as he approaches, reaching out for a handshake. “For slapping me, that is.”

She laughs. “You can get me next time,” she replies merrily.

You rest your head on Ed’s shoulder and sigh contentedly as you watch her and the others ride into the sunset. He wraps an arm around you and squeezes.

※※※

On the way back, you and Ed stop again at the wall with the transmutation circle.

You squint at the pattern. “We’ve seen this somewhere before, haven’t we?” you ask Ed.

“Not exactly,” he replies. “But we saw one a lot like it at the Fifth Lab.”

You gasp—he’s right. Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you side-step quickly just as a dark-skinned man swings a club down at the spot you were just standing.

Quick as a flash, Ed grabs the man’s wrist and flips him over his shoulder, locking him into an arm-bar. “What do you want?” he asks gruffly. “We don’t have any money, so—!”

“Wait a minute...” you cut him off, peering down at the man’s face, pressed against the ground. He glares up at you with red eyes, and realization strikes. “You’re an Ishvalan!”

Suddenly, a whole group of Ishvalans emerge around you, slipping out from behind pillars and climbing over ruins. They come to circle around you, and you grit your teeth.

“Excuse me, you two,” one man speaks up. He has a burn scar over half of his face. “I’m afraid that we’re going to have to take you hostage until the military returns our holy land to us.”

You take up a defensive stance over Ed, who’s still crouched over the man on the ground. “They’re not going to return anything,” you promise him. “Not over a couple of kids, that’s for sure.”

The scarred man looks down at you. “It was the death of a single child that triggered the entire Ishvalan civil war,” he says, “so you really shouldn’t doubt your significance in the eyes of history.”

“That’s enough of your shameful behavior,” another voice chimes in. You turn to see an old woman approaching, leaning on a cane, a young Ishvalan boy by her side.

“Madam Shan!”

“Look at you fools,” she chastises. “Are you all trying to dishonor the name of Ishvala?”

“Look, he won’t try to attack you again,” the boy says to Ed, a note of pleading in his voice. “Can you please just let him go now?”

Ed glances around, looking up to you for confirmation. You eye the crowd around you warily, and then nod. He releases his hold on the man, and then rises to stand by your side. “You stood up for us,” you say to the old woman cautiously. “Why? I thought that you guys hated Amestrians.”

She glares at you. “Despite the atrocities your country has committed, I know that not all Amestrians are bad.”

You notice a large scar across the boy’s chest, and realize that the old woman wears an eyepatch not dissimilar to your own. “We were both injured during the civil war,” he explains. “But then we were saved by these two Amestrian doctors.” He looks down. “To be honest... I do hate you. But the two of them saved me, and you deserve the same treatment.”

“Wait a minute...” Ed says. “You’re not talking about the Rockbells, are you?”

The two Ishvalans look shocked. They glance at each other, and then back at the two of you. “Are you saying that you’re a friend of Doctor Rockbell?” the boy asks.

“Uh—yeah!” Ed confirms.

The two smile. “They saved the lives of countless Ishvalans,” the boy explains. “All throughout the course of the entire war!”

“No kidding!” replies Ed. “They were like an aunt and uncle to us!”

“They refused to abandon their post,” the old woman—Shan—continues. “It didn’t matter how much the fighting escalated.”

“How...” you say somberly. “How did they die?”

The two look down sadly. “They were killed,” Shan informs you sadly. “They were both murdered in cold blood. And it was by the hands of an Ishvalan they’d saved!”

You and Ed jerk back, shocked. “But that’s so...!”

“I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding strained. “But there was nothing we could do to stop him.”

“Who did it?” you beg.

The old woman grimaces. “His face was wrapped in bandages,” she explains. “But he was an Ishvalan monk, and his right arm was tattooed.”

Your fists ball up at your sides. “Scar,” you hiss under your breath, and Ed clenches his teeth.

The boy looks between the two of you, a mix of sadness and understanding in his eyes. “It’s his own grief that drives him,” he says quietly. “We can’t fault him for seeking vengeance.”

You glance at Ed, feeling the tension between justice and compassion. “But he’s still a murderer,” you argue, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Yes,” the old woman agrees, her voice heavy with resignation. “But our people have suffered too much. We can’t add more bloodshed to the cycle.”

Silence hangs in the air, thick with the weight of shared pain. The scars of the past run deep, etched not just on their bodies but in their hearts, binding you together in a way that feels both heavy and fragile.

You take a breath, steeling yourself for the uncertain road ahead. With Ed at your side, you stand firm and ready to face whatever comes next. As the Ishvalans begin to disperse, their red eyes linger on you heavily. 

You and Ed step forward together, the path ahead uncertain, yet filled with purpose.

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.”
—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

The fat man’s hands clench around Riza’s neck. She claws at them with one hand, wincing in pain, the other hand pulling the trigger of her empty gun. Blood drips onto the floor, the red liquid leaking from the many bullet wounds riddling the man holding her; his only reaction is to grin wider.

“Are you all done now?” he asks her as her legs kick out at him. Her vision begins to narrow as she chokes for breath, dropping her gun to the ground. “Then it’s time to eat you!”

She watches with abject horror as the man opens his mouth impossibly wide. Saliva drips off of his huge teeth and his tongue lolls out, revealing a red tattoo—a dragon swallowing its own tail, wrapped around a triangle—on its center.

Suddenly, she hears angry barking as her dog, Black Hayate, comes running up behind the man. He jumps into the air, digging his teeth into the man’s neck, whipping his head around until blood spurts out.

The man flails wildly, trying to dislodge the dog, and he drops Riza in the process. The woman goes flying into the stone wall behind her, and she cries out in pain upon impact.

“Stop it!” the man cries as she struggles to her feet. “That tickles!”

“Catch!” yells Sergeant Fuery as he sprints forward. He throws a handgun to her, which she successfully snatches from the air. Quickly righting it in her grip, she and the young man take aim and fire at her assailant. The force of the bullets push him back, toward the window behind him. Black Hayate growls fiercely at the man, crouched on the ground in front of him, hackles raised.

When she runs out of bullets, she watches as red sparks flash across the man’s skin, healing the bullet wounds cleanly, not even leaving a scar.

“Bullets gone?” the man wonders as he lumbers forward again. “Goodie goodie! I get to have dinner and dessert!”

Suddenly, there is a huge plume of flame that erupts over her shoulder, blasting the man through the huge glass window of the tall tower behind him, sending him falling several stories down to the ground below.

She doesn’t have to turn to know who caused the blast. “I barely made it,” growls Mustang behind her.

Black Hayate wags his tail happily as she and Fuery lower their guns. Annoyance bubbles up in her own chest, and Riza turns sharply on her heel. “Colonel!” she snaps, glaring at her superior officer. “Why the hell did you leave your post?!” she yells. “No matter what happened, you could still have kept your involvement a secret! That was the whole idea, right?! But you just come waltzing in here, plain as day! Are you a complete idiot?!”

“Yeah, fine, fine; that’s it!” he snarks back, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m an idiot. Happy?”

“Who the heck was that fat guy?” Fuery wonders aloud, and Riza turns to see him peering out the window. Suddenly, he shifts, his attention captured by something else on the ground. “Colonel!” he shouts, “the target’s on the move!”

“Strike the camp!” Roy orders. “Don’t leave a single trace!”

“And you stay right by the Sergeant’s side, Hayate!”

With that, the two begin heading down the stairs.

After a few moments, Riza speaks up. “Colonel,” she says coolly, “thanks for saving us back there.”

“Let’s just stay focused on the mission for now,” he replies.

She tilts her head in a slight nod. “Sir,” she agrees.

※※※

The car screeches to a halt beside a masked Jean Havoc. “Get in,” Mustang barks from behind the steering wheel.

“Sir!” acknowledges Havoc as he rushes forward, opening the back door.

But suddenly, before he can enter, Alphonse Elric comes sprinting down the alley. “Are you going after Hughes’ murderer?” he asks urgently.

Roy and Riza exchange a long, heavy look before the former of the two turns back to face the armored boy. “You in?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and he and Havoc pile into the back seat of the car.

The Colonel presses the gas, and they speed down the alley, slowing as they approach Barry the Chopper, who’s chasing after his old body—afore mentioned target—with reckless abandon.

“Don’t let him get away!” Roy barks.

“He ain’t going nowhere!” promises the armored killer. He begins to laugh wildly. “My soul won’t be able to rest!” he cries giddily. “Not until I eviscerate that meat bag!”

Hawkeye reloads her gun in the passenger seat, turning to face the dark-haired driver. “So, do you think we can expect another appearance from that blubber beast back there?”

“I doubt it,” he responds. “I scorched him off that ledge.”

“Yeah, and I shot him in the head, but he didn’t really seem to mind.”

Behind her, she hears Alphonse gasp. “He didn’t have an ouroboros tattoo, did he?” he questions, leaning forward urgently.

“A tattoo?” she repeats. “Actually, yeah,” she confirms, surprised. “On his tongue.”

“In that case,” says the boy somberly, “you were probably dealing with a homunculus.”

Riza sees her own surprise reflected in the Colonel sitting beside her. “Hold on a damn second!” he growls. “What’re you saying, Al? That’s not possible!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the boy agrees, “until I got kidnapped by a homunculus. He called himself ‘Greed’, and one thing he told me was that nothing is impossible. I know for a fact that they have amazing healing powers—I watched Greed get the top half of his head knocked off, but he was perfectly fine a minute later!” Riza’s head spins as she processes this information. “They’re real, all right,” the boy continues, “but I can understand if you don’t believe me.”

“After what I just saw,” Riza says as she focuses her glare ahead of her, “I have to believe you.”

Roy tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Hold on!” he barks. “I rendered fat boy to a bubbling puddle back there! Are you telling me that he’s still alive?”

“Probably,” Al confirms.

“Tch! Wonderful!” Mustang snaps. “It’s just a never-ending parade of freaks lately, huh?”

※※※

After a while, Roy pulls the car to a halt in front of the large building that Barry had stopped in front of. As Riza and the others pile out of the car, they all peer around the corner of the fence that encircles the building.

“It looks like my body ran in there,” Barry says. “It seems to think it can hide from me!”

“The Third Laboratory, huh?” Roy mutters. “So this ties them directly to the military.” He turns to face the rest of the group. “That’s all we need for now. We’re pulling back,” he commands.

“Well, you have fun with that!” Barry cheers gleefully as he sprints forward into the lab.

“Wait—get back here!”

Riza crosses her arms and sighs in frustration. “That psycho stormed the building,” Havoc announces, as if they hadn’t all just seen it happen.

“Yeah, it’s our lucky day,” Roy replies flatly.

※※※

“All personnel must evacuate immediately!” Roy orders, gun drawn. Riza and the others are close behind him.

“Um, Colonel?” one man speaks up, sidling up beside the Colonel with a salute.

“Stay back,” warns Mustang. “The man who broke in is a deranged murderer! My men will handle his capture. Order your guards to seal off the exits!”

“Yes, sir!”

Havoc leads the group down the stairs where Barry and his body ran. Riza is close behind him, her gun held at the ready, Roy right behind her.

When they reach the bottom, Roy watches Riza tense up, looking around, ready to fire. After a moment of silence, she relaxes slightly. He looks around, and sees that a dark hallway stretches to his left and right. There is no trace of Barry or the target.

“How are we supposed to find them?” Havoc questions.

Roy turns his attention to Riza. “We’re going to have to split up,” he says.

She hesitates for a moment, and, as usual, Roy wonders what’s going on inside her head.

Then, after a moment, she inclines her head. “Yes, sir.”

※※※

After a few minutes of walking through the dark, dusty halls underground, Roy and Havoc step into a dimly lit room.

“It doesn’t look like anybody’s used this lab in a while,” Roy remarks, looking around. The barred door had been ripped off its hinges, and the whole lab is in a state of disrepair; a thick layer of dust covers every exposed surface.

“I guess not,” Havoc agrees. “What is this stuff?”

Roy turns his gaze on an abandoned box, lying open on the table beside him. Inside is a jumble of medical equipment mixed with bloody torture paraphernalia. “I have no idea,” he rumbles, “but whatever they did here was painful for someone.”

Suddenly, a woman’s voice echoes out from the darkness ahead. “Well now,” it remarks, sounding amused. “I am just shocked!”

Stiffening, Roy points his pistol in the direction of the voice. From the corner of his eye, he sees Havoc cock his shotgun.

“It’s bad enough you stood me up on our date,” the woman continues, steeping forward from the darkness, her heels clacking loudly against the cold stone floor. “And now you point a gun at me?” The woman’s long, dark hair curls around her shoulders. Thin, red lips glow against her pale skin, and her black, strapless, skin-tight dress is held up by her rather impressive boobs, a red tattoo emblazoning the skin between them. “You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” she comments, focusing her gaze on Havoc, whose eyes go wide when he sees her.

“Solaris?” the blonde gasps, lowering his gun in surprise. “What’s going on?”

“Havoc!” Mustang says urgently. “Your girl’s got the tattoo!”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “First time I’ve seen it, sir!”

The woman chuckles, crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them up as she shrugs casually. “Quit staring,” she teases. “It’s not very polite.”

“Well,” Mustang says flatly as he forces his eyes up to her face. “I can see how she tricked you so easily—you’ve always been a sucker for big boobs.”

The other man lowers his gun completely, clenching his fist in front of him and sniffling dramatically. “I can’t help it!” he cries out. “I love them!”

Mustang sighs at his companion’s dramatics. “Did you tell this woman anything?” he urges.

“No, I—I never said a single thing about work, sir!”

Roy trains his gun on the homunculus woman, glaring at her fiercely. “Tell me,” he orders coldly as the self-satisfied smirk slips off her face. “Do you know who Maes Hughes is?”

“Oh, yes,” she confirms, and Roy’s finger tightens against the trigger. “He was quite the intelligent man, wouldn’t you agree? I only wish I’d had the opportunity to pick his brain!”

Rage bubbles up in Roy’s chest as his vision goes red. With a growl, he pulls the trigger, and satisfaction wells up as he sees the woman’s eyes bug out when the bullet embeds itself in her leg. “On your knees!” he snarls. “I want to know everything!”

“Sorry to say,” the woman remarks coldly as red sparks shoot out from the wound, closing it neatly in their wake, “but unless you’re going to take me to bed, it’s going to take more than you’re capable of to get me on my—!”

Before she can finish, Roy lets off two more rounds, one to her chest and the other to her head. The woman staggers back, but stays upright as red sparks break out once again.

She laughs low in her throat. “How merciless!” she remarks. “Did you pick that up in Ishval? Hmm?” Grinning, her tongue flicks out from between her thin lips to swipe at the blood dribbling down her face.

Havoc’s face twists as realization strikes. “You’re a homunculus!” he gasps, and internally, Mustang rolls his eyes at his subordinate’s belated realization.

“Indeed! How very astute of you, Jean!” the woman confirms. Suddenly, she brings one of her hands out in front of her, and her fingernails lengthen, growing impossibly, sharpening at the tips until they come to resemble curved blades. “But I doubt you’ve seen this one!”

Before Mustang can react, the woman plunges her knife-like hands deep into her chest. The sound of tearing flesh squelches sickeningly through the air as she peels back the skin above the center of her chest. Inside, just under the surface, lies a smooth red stone, connected to her body by what appears to be tendons and veins.

“Take a good look, boys,” she lilts in a sultry tone. “It’s a Philosopher's Stone.” Mustang cringes back from the sight as red sparks slowly begin to knit the gaping hole in her chest closed. “I was born with this Stone at my core,” the woman explains. “It’s not just a legend—it’s my heart.”

Grinding his teeth, Roy lifts his gun again, aiming at the “heart” glistening in her chest. “You’re a monster!” he snarls.

She seems unaffected by his gruff tone. “That was uncalled for,” she replies blandly. “I do have feelings. Apart from a few things, I was made nearly identical to you.” Her red eyes flash as she continues, “I am human.”

For a beat, there is silence, and Roy’s heart thumps loudly in his ears. “I have a funny feeling the only reason you’re telling us this is because you don’t plan on letting us live,” he growls.

A smile splits her face. “Yup!” she confirms, lifting her blade-like hand into the air slowly. “It’s such a shame,” she laughs as she slashes down suddenly, slicing through Mustang’s cheek despite the distance between them.

Grunting at the sudden burst of pain, his gun falls from his grip, clattering loudly against the dusty metal floor. He reaches into his pocket and quickly slides his ignition glove over his hand, lifting his fingers to snap.

Before he can, however, the woman cries out. “Too slow!” she sings, slicing through a metal pipe above his head. Water pours from the dissected pipe, instantly soaking him and Havoc, thus rendering his fire alchemy impossible.

The remains of the pipe smash onto the floor before them as the woman’s teasing voice fills the air again. “Oh no!” she mocks. “Did I get your ignition glove all wet? Silly me!”

Knowing what a losing battle looks like when he sees one, Mustang has only one option left; he and Havoc turn and begin to run away, sprinting as fast as their legs will carry them. He can hear the woman slashing objects behind him; he can feel the air shift as her claws miss his back by a hair, close enough to push the collar of his uniform against the back of his neck.

As he and Havoc reach the doorway, they both slip in the filthy water now covering the floor. They crouch on either side of the door and shoot each other a panicked glance.

“What are we gonna do?!” Havoc hisses as he raises his shotgun to his chest, cocking it. “She’ll shred us with her fucking fingers!”

Roy grins back at the blonde man beside him. “No,” he replies. “She made a big mistake. She flooded the room with water,” he explains. “A simple transmutation and we’ve got hydrogen gas!”

Havoc flips open his lighter as Mustang slams his hand down into the murky water, blue alchemy crackling from his gloved hand. He waits until the alchemy spreads inside the room before signaling to Havoc. Gritting his teeth, the other man flicks his lighter to life before tossing it over his shoulder into the room like a grenade, and the two men brace themselves against the wall as an explosion rips through the room.

When the smoke clears, Roy pokes his head around the corner cautiously, and the woman is nowhere to be found. He signals to Havoc, and the two trudge back into the room.

The blonde picks up his ruined lighter off the ground. “Crap,” he sighs. “This was a gift from one of my ex-girlfriends.” He flicks it a few times, but it doesn’t light. “Damn,” he groans. “Hey, Colonel! Mind giving me a light here?”

Roy watches as the man pulls a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, placing it between his teeth. The two stare at each other for a moment, and then Havoc turns around. “Oh right,” he mumbles, pulling it from his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. “You’re all wet.”

Mustang bristles. “Yeah, well those things will kill you! You know that?!” he yells.

After looking around the rest of the room for a few moments, Roy is confident that the homunculus woman is really gone, and not just hiding somewhere nearby. “She’s dust,” he comments to his companion. “I definitely cremated her.”

“How do you know for sure, sir?”

Roy’s brow furrows as he speaks his next words. “The stench. I’m pretty familiar with that stink by now.”

“You mean from that time you spent in Ishval?”

“For all we know, she could still regenerate,” the man replies, deftly changing the subject. “So stay alert.”

“Yes sir.”

The moment the words leave the blonde’s lips, Mustang hears the man let out a choked scream. Whipping around, he sees a set of long, curved blades emerge from a pile of rubble behind Havoc, skewering him through the chest.

“Havoc!!”

As the man collapses to the ground, Roy grits his teeth as he watches the woman emerge from the wreckage. She’s horribly disfigured—her skin is badly burnt and melted away, the exposed Philosopher's Stone glowing from the center of her chest. There are several parts of her where the flesh is gone completely, and Roy can see the muscle and bone that lies beneath. Rapidly, though, red sparks break out over the damaged areas, and the wounds begin to close.

The man rushes to kneel beside his fallen companion, who is lying face down on the ground, a small puddle of blood quickly pooling beneath him. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Havoc! Hang in there!” he urges.

“Don’t kid yourself,” the woman sneers as she steps forward to face him, a smile still present on her lips. “He’s a dead man.” Grinning down at the man, she licks the blood from one of her knife-like fingernails.

Growling, Roy snatches Havoc’s fallen gun from the ground beside him, taking aim at the abomination before him. “No he’s not!” he snarls, squeezing the trigger.

The woman falls backwards as the force of the blast rips her arm straight off her body. Roy rushes forward even as she continues to mock him.

“Give up!” she snaps. “There’s nothing you can do that can kill me!”

Roy slams the sole of his boot down onto her remaining shoulder, drawing his hand back. “Then you won’t mind if I borrow this!” he yells, grasping the exposed Stone from her chest and pulling it back, hard.

He yanks the Stone from its place on her chest, feeling the fibers it’s attached to snap as she screams in agony.

He watches that cocky, self-assured look finally drop from her face, morphing into one of shock and horror. Her red eyes stare up at the ceiling as her body crumbles to ash and floats lazily to the ground.

“I need it to save Havoc,” he mutters to himself, gripping the Stone tightly in his hand as he turns to kneel beside his friend. “I don’t know that much about medicinal alchemy, but this should amplify my abilities.”

Before he can begin, however, he feels the Stone pulse in his hand. Turning, he’s horrified to see the woman’s body rapidly reforming around the stone, materializing in his hand.

“It seems like you should buy a girl dinner first,” the woman rasps, her tendons sprouting around him, her body encapsulation his hand. Her red eyes glow in the darkness, trapping him in their gaze, “—before you stick your hand in her chest!”

Crying out, he tries to draw his hand back, but her body has already formed too much around it. Before he can react, she draws back a still-growing hand, piercing his side with two long finger-blades.

As he chokes in pain, she grabs his wrist with her other hand, and yanks his hand out of her body. She laughs, watching him struggle to get away, pressing her nail-blades deeper into his body. “I told you,” she taunts; “The Philosopher's Stone is my core.” In one swift motion, she withdraws her hand, and Mustang collapses to the ground at her feet.

He presses a hand to his punctured side, trying to stem the flow of blood, but even through his ignition glove, he can feel it pouring out of him, hot and thick.

The woman still has an iron grip on his other wrist, and she retracts her blades back into herself, returning her fingers to normal. “I really hate to do this,” she says casually, pulling his glove from his hand. “You were a prime sacrifice and all, but you forced me to kill you.”

The pain in his side is all but unbearable as he rolls onto his back. He glares hatefully at the woman towering above him. “Fuck you!” he hisses as she easily shreds his ignition glove, dropping the tattered remains on the ground beside him.

“Save your breath,” she sneers. “I want you to watch poor Jean bleed to death—then you can die.”

She shoots Roy one last smug grin before turning to walk out the door.

His head begins to spin a little from the loss of blood. He knows that if he doesn’t do something soon, he and Havoc are going to die here.

“Jean, hey!” he grunts, straining himself. “Answer me! Havoc!”

Havoc does not respond, still lying face-down in a puddle of his own blood. Roy grits his teeth. “You can't die! Not yet! Not before I do!”

※※※

Riza and Al step out of the long, dark hallway. They emerge into a well-lit room, the walls and tiled floor a stark white, standing in sharp contrast to the abandoned halls that they’d been wandering. Before them stands Barry the Chopper, standing over his original body, which is crumpled dead on the floor in a puddle of blood.

“Sorry,” Barry says calmly, “but you got here too late.” He appraises the mangle corpse, his expression unreadable. “Look at this mess. My body is damn near completely decayed.” The stench of rotting meat wafts through the air, tickling the back of Riza’s throat. The reek of death is something that she’s familiar with, but it’s something that she could never get used to. Swallowing a gag, she clamps a hand firmly over her mouth and nose.

When Barry speaks again, his tone is grim—sad, even. “I guess a body just can’t hold up with someone else’s soul shoved inside it.”

Riza hears Al let out a tiny gasp. “If a soul is incompatible with another person’s body... wouldn’t it be the same for a soul bonded to a suit of armor?” His armor clinks softly as he raises his hands, staring down at his gauntleted hands. “If that’s right, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to stay in this form long enough to get our bodies back!”

She can hear panic slowly creeping into his voice, but she doesn’t know what to say to soothe him. Comforting others has never been her strong suit.

Suddenly, she hears a faint rustling sound behind her. She turns sharply on her heel, raising her gun to aim at the woman who is now standing under the large doorway of the room.

She hears Barry let out a mirthful chuckle. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, Lust.”

“Number 66,” the woman—Lust—drawls bitterly. “Care to explain why you’re helping the Colonel?”

“I thought it’d be fun to switch things up! Besides...” He raises his blade eagerly. “...I’ve wanted to chop you up since I met you!”

Lust looks unimpressed. “You’re such a handful, 66.” She shifts her gaze to focus on the boy at Riza’s side. “And I’m sad to see you here, armor boy. You just had to tag along... Talk about a setback,” she sighs, her thin red lips curling into a pout. “It’s bad enough to lose one,” she continues, her crimson eyes cold and hollow, “but now you’re forcing me to kill a second candidate!” Riza’s hands tighten around her gun, her finger coming to rest on the trigger.

“Candidate?” Al echoes. “A second one?”

“Yeah,” Lust smirks, teasing. “You and mister gallantry.”

“That’s enough of the casual chit-chat!” Barry cries, dashing forward before anybody can respond. “All I want to hear from you is screaming!” With a flourish, he leaps into the air, diving head-first toward the woman, his huge cleaver hissing through the air.

Unfazed, Lust lifts one hand, almost lazily.

Riza blinks, and when she opens her eyes, Barry falls out of the air unceremoniously, his body sliced to ribbons, the hollow chunks of metal clattering deafeningly to the tile floor.

His helmet flies backward, coming to land in front of the blonde lieutenant and the boy by her side. Riza watches the soft glow of his eyes flicker out, like a candle in the wind. And then, just like that—in a fraction of a second, an insignificant moment in time, forgotten by the world in these abandoned tunnels underground... Barry the Chopper is gone.

Riza feels an emotion that she’s unable to identify bubble up in her throat, and a ghost of a shiver runs down her spine.

“I do hate overconfident men.” The homunculus woman smirks, lifting her hand to rest a long, deadly, knife-like finger against her cheek, her voice cold and unaffected. “Now then... where were we?” Her crimson eyes narrow with a sadistic sort of pleasure, cocking her head slightly and locking gazes with Riza. “I think I was about to send the Lieutenant to join her superior,” she purrs.

The blonde blinks; once, twice, three times.

Slowly, realization begins to crash over her, like a bucket of ice water, like a punch to the gut, like a knife to the chest.

For a moment, she feels like she’s floating, detached from her body, the clack of the monster’s heels echoing through the silence as she begins to walk closer.

“Wait a minute,” she shudders, her voice unsteady, a million conflicting, undecipherable emotions tearing through her rapid-fire. “So when you said you’d already had to kill someone—” Her hands begin to shake uncontrollably, panic rapidly creeping to the forefront of her mind, her voice rising, throat tightening, “—no, it can’t be! You didn’t!!” Her lips curl back over her teeth, horror running down her spine. Her brain short-circuits, her heart slamming painfully against her ribcage, adrenaline coursing through her veins, her vision going red, and a scream rips from her throat, “YOU BITCH!!!!”

The sound of the shot rips through the air as she squeezes the trigger as hard as she can, the bullet ripping through the demon’s face before her.

A raw, primal screams tears through her chest, and she fires again. And again. And again, and again, and again, emptying her gun into the abomination before her. When she’s out of bullets, she mindlessly flings her weapon to the side.

She pulls out another.

She fires.

She runs out of bullets.

She drops it to the ground.

She pulls out another gun.

She fires.

She runs out of bullets.

She sobs uncontrollably, finger uselessly squeezing the trigger over and over and over.

She sees the woman’s eyes roll back in her head as red, crackling energy courses over her body, and Riza can’t feel her limbs, can’t tell if she’s breathing, her vision swimming dizzyingly.

After a few moments, she hears Lust speak. “Are you done?” she asks, her bored voice sounding muffled and far away, and Riza feels like her head is underwater.

She casts her eyes on her gun, empty and useless, and all at once, every ounce of strength left in her body flees her; her hands come to fall at her sides, the weapon sliding from her limp fingers. Her knees collide with the floor as her legs crumple beneath her.

She buries her face in her hands and sobs.

“Such a sad and weak creature,” she hears Lust sneer above her. “Another typical human.” She spits the word like a curse.

“Stand up, Lieutenant,” she hears Al say; she had forgotten the boy was even there. Glancing up through tear-filled eyes, she sees his back in front of her, and dimly realizes that he’s shielding her. “You need to get out of here.”

“Do you want me to kill you first?” The homunculus’ voice echoes in Riza’s ears, bouncing around in her skull as she mourns the loss of her superior officer—of her friend, her hero, her life-long companion.

Riza can’t muster the strength to even attempt to stand, not that she knows what she’d do even if she could.

She has nowhere to go, and no one to go back to.

She begins to dissociate, her mind detached from her body.

Almost like a dream, she’s vaguely aware of the two fighting before her, and struggles to regain some semblance of consciousness.

She hates her own weakness—she’s disgusted by it. She’d always forced herself to be strong, to never stop, to never surrender, to fight until her last breath...

...But the only thing she had to fight for is gone, so why bother?

Eventually, she’s able to choke out a few warbling words from her impossibly tight throat. “Listen Alphonse,” she croaks weakly, not wanting anybody else to die today, not when he still has a chance to live. Echo and Edward’s faces drift through her subconscious; Hawkeye just lost everything; the most important person in the world to her is gone, and she doesn’t want them to suffer like she is. “Leave me and save yourself,” she demands weakly.

“No!” The boy’s voice is strong and certain, and she can’t bring herself to look up at him.

“Run!” she begs, watching her tears splash on the floor before her.

“I won’t!”

“Go!”

“I won’t leave you!” he cries. “I’m sick of watching people die! And I can’t just sit back and take it anymore! I won’t let anyone else get killed! Not when I can protect them!!” His voice is thick with emotion, but there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

Suddenly, impossibly, a familiar voice rings out in the moment of silence that follows his words, and Riza’s heart leaps into her throat.

“Well spoken!” it chimes, and the blonde’s head jerks up, her chest soaring with hope. “I couldn’t agree more!”

She lifts her tear-stained face, desperately hoping that she’s not imagining things, that he’s really here, but before she can see anything at all, Al’s massive, armored back fills her vision. He claps his hands together in front of her, a huge stone wall heaving up from the floor. Before she can blink, the boy spins around and crouches, pulling Riza protectively against his broad metal chest-plate. In that exact moment, a typhoon of white-hot fire explodes from behind the stone barrier. The force of it is so powerful, so massive that it shakes the floor, flowing around the stone barrier like a river around a boulder, and Riza can hear the homunculus let out a blood-curdling scream of pain.

“Looks like I can get you on your knees after all,” the voice snarls viciously, and another explosion of flames rockets through the air.

“You should have bled to death by now!” Lust screeches, and Riza can’t hear the response over the roar of the flames as the next explosion tears through the room.

“You told me I couldn’t kill you, but I’d like to try and prove you wrong!”

Lust screams in agony, her voice rising steadily in pitch as the fire erupts again—“...So let’s see...!”—and again—“...how many times it’s going to take!”—and again and again and again, and the woman’s howls reach a peak.

Finally, there is a silence that seems to last a lifetime.

Then, finally, the woman speaks once more, her words a broken whisper. “You killed me,” she rasps. “I hate losing, but... there are worse ways to die than at the hands of a man like you.” She lets out an agonized hiss, but Riza can hear the smirk in her voice. “I love how cold and focused your eyes are.” Her voice is a fading whisper that echoes through the silence that weighs heavily in the air: “I look forward... to the day when those eyes will be wide with agony...” Her final words send goose bumps over Riza’s skin—“It’s coming... I promise you that.”

For a beat, there is nothing but perfect silence.

Then, already past her breaking point, Riza tears herself free from Alphonse’s arms, flinging herself to her feet and darting around the stone wall. She takes in the sight before her, heart beating out of her chest, her knees weak.

The smoke begins to clear, and silhouetted beneath the massive archway stands Colonel Roy Mustang. His shirt is torn in half, his face scratched, his hand clutching a blackened, blistering burn spread across the left side of his torso, and he’s the most beautiful thing that Riza has ever seen.

She takes a wobbly step toward him. His eyes flick to her face and she can see relief spread across his features; then, an instant later, his face crumples in pain, his lighter falling from his hand as he collapses to the floor, his face ghostly white and sweaty.

“Colonel!” she cries, dashing toward her dark-haired companion as fast as her legs will carry her. She kneels at his side, her hands hovering in the air above him, elation and terror battling for dominance in her chest.

He casts his dark eyes to the side, trapping her gaze in his, and a small, painful smile pulls at his lips. “Are you okay?” he rasps weakly.

“Forget about me,” she cries, shaking her head furiously as Al comes to crouch beside two. “We need to get you some help!”

Roy’s gaze lingers on Riza for a few moments more before he turns his eyes to the boy at her side. “Thanks, Alphonse,” he grunts, his pained but sincere grin still firmly in place. “Thank you for looking after my subordinate.”

“Yeah, sure,” the armored boy agrees hurriedly. “But we need to call you a doctor!”

Roy’s face twists again as he clutches harder at his blistered, ruined side, and he groans. “Y-yeah...” he agrees, “...call a doctor for Havoc... please.”

Riza’s chest hitches as she lets out something between a sob and a laugh. “You idiot...” she sniffles. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

※※※

You reach your arms over your head, wobbling on legs that have long-since gone numb from the long train ride. You let out a yawn and do a quick stretch, leaning down to touch your toes before standing upright again.

You and Ed stand outside Resembool station, finally on your way back after almost a full week of traveling. After the blistering heat of the desert and the sight of nothing but sand in all directions, you’re more than grateful for the grass beneath your feet and the smell of rain on the horizon.

You and Ed walk side-by-side in comfortable silence on the long dirt road up to Granny’s house, hands occasionally brushing up against one another. Summer is nearly over, and the air is warm, a soft breeze blowing through the valley. The late-afternoon sun reflects off of the boy’s golden hair, pulled back in a ponytail, and a faint, fond smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you peek at him from the corner of your eye.

He glances over and catches you staring. He quirks an eyebrow—and maybe it’s your imagination, but you think you see a subtle blush spread across his cheeks. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “But you do have something on your shirt.” You point a finger at a spot on his chest. Then, when he glances down to check, you reach up and flick his nose with snicker.

He rears his head back, glowering at you with mock-outrage on his face when you snort out a laugh. “Wow,” he drawls sarcastically. “Nice one; very mature.”

“I know, I know,” you chuckle. “I try.”

Suddenly, the boy jerks to an abrupt halt, stiffening, his eyes going hard. “Jeez, Ed, relax, would you? It was just a joke...” You trail off as you follow his gaze.

You’re standing beside the Resembool cemetery, but that’s not the reason for his reaction. Instead, what he’s staring at is the tall, unfamiliar man who’s standing inside, facing one of the graves—and not just any grave, but he’s standing at Trisha’s grave.

His back is to you. He wears a brown coat over his broad shoulders, his blonde ponytail blowing softly in the wind. You don’t recognize him, but Ed apparently does, if the tension radiating off of him in waves is anything to go by.

“Ed? What’s wrong?’ you ask him quietly, standing at a hesitant alert yourself. The boy at your side is stiff as a board, and anything that can make him that nervous that quickly is something that you should be worried about too. “Do you... know him?”

“I...” the boy trails off before he even begins, his eyes locked intently on the man at the grave, his brows slowly furrowing. An odd look begins to grow in his eyes, which does nothing to ease your nerves. “I don’t...”

You place a hand on his shoulder. “Ed?” you ask again, more firmly this time, your own nerves starting to build. “Who is that man?”

As if on queue, the man turns, glancing over his shoulder at the two of you. He looks vaguely familiar, but you don’t know who he is or how you know him. His face is filled with an expression that you’re unable to read, but it makes you uneasy.

You shift, taking a small step forward and placing yourself slightly in front of Ed, as if to shield him.

 The boy comes to with a start, and he takes a staggering step back, his brows fully furrowed into a glare. Finally, he answers you, but his response is the last thing you expected him to say:

“That’s...” he hesitates. “That’s Hohenheim!”

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.”
—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

You and Ed stand side-by-side in front of the blonde man. This is Ed and Al’s father, and despite the fact that you lived with them for most of your life, Hohenheim is pretty much a stranger to you. You were four when Trisha took you in, and five when the man abandoned his family; even when he was still around, though, he spent the majority of his time holed up in his study, and Trisha always told you and the boys to leave him alone while he was in there.

The only real memories you have of the man aren’t even actually of him, but of the impact he'd had on the family when he decided to pack his bags one night and leave, not even taking the time to say goodbye. You have vivid memories of the brothers asking Trisha questions about him—where was he? Why did he leave? When was he coming back? If he loved them then why did he leave without saying goodbye?—and of Trisha crying to herself late at night when she thought you were all asleep.

You hate this man for abandoning the people that you love—the people that he was supposed to love. You’re not related to the brothers by blood, and you’d still rather die than be apart from them. You usually try your best to see things from the other person’s perspective, but the thought of putting yourself in Hohenheim’s shoes makes you sick to your stomach.

Staring at the man’s back, you’re flooded with the memories of all the pain and suffering he’s caused your family, and you want to punch him in the face as hard as you can with your automail arm.

But Ed told you that the two of you owe it to Mom to at least find out why he left, so here you are. You’re willing to bite your tongue to make him happy, and he’s right—you don’t know if Trisha ever knew why he left... but for his sake, you hope he has a damn good reason.

There is a long beat of silence as you and Ed glare daggers at the man’s back. Then, finally, he turns to face the two of you. His golden eyes—so close to those you’re familiar with, but too cold and too distant—linger on Ed, flicking over to you briefly before returning to his son.

Bitterly, you wonder if he even remembers who you are.

“Edward,” he greets, his voice low and soft, “Echo; you two appear to have grown some.” He pauses, as if waiting for a reply. Then, seeing nothing but resentment reflected back at him, he half-turns away, speaking more to the air next to the two of you rather than at you directly. “I spoke with Pinako,” he informs you, and your stomach twists. “...You tried human transmutation.”

His words are not a question, and his tone is simultaneously judgmental and uncaring.

A fierce retort bubbles up in your throat, and you and Ed exchange a glance. He shakes his head at you almost imperceptibly, asking you to bite your tongue, and for him, you comply—quite literally biting down on your tongue to keep yourself in check. The fury that you can see reflected back at you in the boy’s face only serves as fuel to your own rage, and if Ed were not here, Hohenheim would be lucky if all you gave him was a piece of your mind.

“What makes you think you can show up like this?” the boy spits, baring his teeth. “It’s been ten years—there’s nothing left for you here anymore!”

The man casts his gaze across the graveyard. “I noticed,” he replies, his tone cold, his face like stone. His eyes land on the hill in the distance where the house that you had all grown up in used to stand. He shifts his face back toward the two of you, tilting his chin in the air and looking at you both down his nose. “Tell me, children: what possessed you to burn down my home?”

Ed looks away. “After what happened, we vowed to never turn back,” he snaps. “We did it as a symbol of our resolve.”

“No you didn’t,” Hohenheim retorts the moment the words leave Ed’s lips; your fury spikes.

This man doesn’t know anything about you, or what you’ve all been through. How dare he be so quick to shoot you down? In fact, maybe if he’d actually been around when Trisha died, you wouldn’t have even attempted to bring your mother—the only member of your family left besides each other—back to life, and ruining your lives in the process!

You bite down on your tongue harder, and you taste blood.

“You were hiding the memory.” At this point, Hohenheim seems to decide that the two of you are actually worthy of his gaze, looking down his nose at you again. “You didn’t want to be reminded of what you’d done,” he states. As he speaks, he walks forward, coming to tower over his son as his uncaring eyes cast their judgment on the boy. “—and thought you could destroy the memory by destroying the evidence. It’s just like a child who hides the sheets after he wets the bed.” The light of the sun reflects off of his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “You ran away,” he declares coldly, “and you know it.”

He looms a full head taller than the boy at your side, who cringes back from the older man, his shoulders hunching up toward his ears. You watch his face start to crumple; you’ve known Ed long enough to know that he’s struggling to hold back tears, desperately trying to put on a brave face, and every cell in your body screams at you that this man is a threat.

Swallowing a mouthful of blood, you finally step in—literally inserting yourself in front of the boy, standing between him and the man who doesn’t even deserve to be called a father.

Hands balling into fists at your sides, shaking with barely contained fury, you have to tilt your head back to meet the man’s eyes, and you do so with pleasure. You lock your gaze onto his and your spine stiffens, and you growl at him through clenched teeth.

“Look at Mister-fucking-Tough-Guy over here! You think you get to come back here after ten. Fucking. Years,” you hiss, lips curling back over your teeth, “and threaten your own son? You think you get to come back and cast your fucking judgment over the child that you abandoned, standing over the grave of your dead wife?! I don’t know if you’re oblivious or if you just don’t give a shit, but guess what, asshole? Maybe if you didn’t walk out on your family all those years ago—in the middle of the night like a coward—we wouldn’t have had to sacrifice everything we had and more! Maybe then you would still have your precious home to go back to, since apparently that’s all you care about!”

The blonde man has no reaction to your words, his expression stony and unchanging, not a hint of remorse or regret anywhere to be seen, and his complete lack of empathy is the final straw.

You tighten your fist, drawing back your automail arm. Before you can strike, however, Ed grabs your other hand tightly in his own, and he tugs you back sharply. “Echo, stop. He’s not worth it.” He stares up at the man with hatred in his eyes. “Let’s just go.”

For an instant, you consider yanking your hand out of his and striking the older man anyway, but the boy tugs you sharply again, and finally, you back down.

You turn your back on the man, allowing Ed to pull you away. After a few steps, though, you pause. You turn back to face Hohenheim one last time, and you curl your lip at him. “I hope you die slowly,” you growl. “Cold, alone, and forgotten, and I hope you rot for weeks before anybody finds your body.” You suck sharply on your tongue, gathering up a bit more blood in your mouth and then spit it onto his shoes before you allow Ed to drag you away.

※※※

You don’t even make it halfway to Granny’s house before you break down. You’ve never been so angry in your entire life, and you’ve literally almost died at least three times.

Rapidly, the lingering anger that bubbles like poison in your veins transforms. This happens every time you get too mad, and you hate it.

Your throat tightens, and your feet stop moving. Sniffling angrily, you press your hand firmly over your mouth and choke back a sob. You squeeze your eye shut tightly, trying to force back your tears as your chest quivers.

You hear Ed pause in front of you, your hand still held tightly in his own, and you’re unable to hold back a tearful whimper. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking, eye still shut tightly, unable to face the boy before you. “Ed,” you cry, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

You hear him sniffle, and before you can open your eye, he takes a step forward, pulling you into his arms. You press your face into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you tightly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest. You can hear his own shuddering, uneven breaths; can feel his heart hammer against his chest as he sniffs again, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry!”

His breath hitches and he holds you a little tighter. “I know,” he whispers back; “It’s okay; I’ve got you.”

The two of you stand together like that in the middle of the dirt road for a long, long while, safe and secure in each other’s embrace.

※※※

You are on your hands and knees in the basement of your childhood home. Alchemy begins to crackle through the chalk circle on the ground, blue and black lighting up the pitch black of the room. Hundreds of tiny black arms shoot from the ground on the edges of the circle, and in the darkness behind you, you can hear a million indecipherable voices whispering. The sound fills your head, bouncing around in your skull; it sends a horrible shudder down your spine.

Red sparks begin to crack through the circle, and there’s blood all over the floor, completely soaking your hands and staining the knees of your pants. Your thighs are soaked in blood, and it dribbles from the cuts on your legs like a leaky faucet. You look around wildly for Ed or Al, but you can’t find them.

You’re all alone in the darkness, and the metallic tang of your own blood fills your nostrils, and you can taste it on the back of your tongue.

Suddenly, a figure begins to rise from the center of the circle. It’s a suit of armor, cut in half at the waist. The helmet clatters to the ground, rolling to a stop in between your hands, still glued to the circle on the ground. You see a ruined seal painted in blood on the inside of the helmet, and suddenly Slicer’s voice rings out from the silence.

“Why did you kill me?!” he screams, and you can hear his brother wailing from the center of the circle, the armored legs flailing through air at unnatural angles. “Why did you kill me?!”

Frantically, you shake your head, blood pouring down your face, your neck, streaming from the hole where your right eye should be. “I didn’t!” you scream, thrashing, fighting uselessly to stand. “It wasn’t me!”

“WHY DID YOU KILL ME, ECHO?! WHY DID YOU KILL ME?!”

You screw your eye shut and scream into the darkness, and then for a moment, everything goes quiet.

Chest quivering with the broken sobs that rip through your body, you open your eye to find yourself standing upright in complete darkness. Reaching out a hand, you press your palm into a wall about a foot in front of you. Feeling around blindly, you find yourself in a tiny room. Your hand grasps the doorknob and you jiggle it desperately, but it’s locked. You hear a woman screaming, men laughing, and glass breaking. Terror floods your chest, and you stagger backwards. The back of your knees hit something and your legs give out. You curl yourself into a ball in the box in the closet and clamp both hands tightly over your mouth.

You feel a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you back to your feet. You open your eye and see Ed standing in front of you. He smiles at you, his beautiful golden eyes reflecting the dim light of your bedroom. “Oh, Echo,” he sighs, shaking his head a little. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out? That you could keep your dirty little secret forever?”

You try to recoil, but his hands squeeze your arms tightly. “W-what are you talking about?” you stutter. His grip tightens even more, and you try to step back, wincing. “Ed, that hurts! Let go!”

“And why should I?” his voice is cold and mocking, and you’ve never heard him speak like that before—not to you, anyway. “What are you going to do if I don’t? Are you going to take that little blade and cut up your legs some more?” He lets out a biting laugh.

Your heart sinks into your stomach, and you look down at yourself. Your legs are bare, covered in bleeding cuts and scabs and scars, and you struggle to free yourself from his arms. “Stop it!” You beg. “Ed, let me GO!”

His lip curls in disgust. “Filthy freak. It’s all your fault, you know. You’re the reason that Al lost his body. You’re the reason why I’m stuck with this stupid automail. Everything is all your fault! I hate you!”

He shoves you away and turns his back to you as you fall onto your butt. Sobbing, you reach out to him, fingers stretching to grab his hand, terrified to be left alone.

Then, suddenly, the ground gives out beneath you and you’re plummeting through an endless void of pure, blinding white. You fall and fall and fall, and you scream and cry but you’re alone and there’s nothing there and no one to grab onto. You see the ground rushing up below you, and you know that you won’t survive the landing.

You fall faster and faster, and a mocking laughter rings through your head. Just as you’re about to hit the ground—

You jerk upright, hand flying up to your mouth. You bite down on the flesh of your palm to muffle the strangled scream that tears its way from your throat. You are covered in sweat, your cheek wet with tears. Heart pounding impossibly fast in your chest, you glance at the clock on your beside table, which reads 2:17 in the morning.

You feel like you’re suffocating; suddenly, your bedroom is claustrophobic, the walls closing in around you, the ceiling an impossible weight crashing down on your shoulders—you need to get out.

Your breathing is harsh and unsteady as you leap out of your bed. You stagger your way to the door, the inky black darkness surrounding you clings to your skin like tar. Hastily, you throw on a sweater and creep quietly out into the hallway. Your bare feet avoid the creaky floorboards with a mindless ease that stems from years of experience. Silently, you make your way down the stairs and out the front door, closing it lightly behind you.

As soon as you feel the cool, crisp night air hit your face, you can feel yourself relax slightly. You reach up to brush your hair back from your face, and realize that you left your eyepatch on your night-table upstairs. After a brief hesitation, you shrug, stepping off the patio. There’s no point in going up to get it, you suppose; it’s not like you’re going to be seeing anybody—not way out here in the country, and certainly not this late at night.

You walk slowly through the grass that lines the dirt road away from Granny’s house. The blades tickle your feet, curling around your toes. Beneath, the soil is cool and firm. You wonder absently if you should be worried about ticks, but then realize that it’s likely too cold for them to be much of an issue.

You walk aimlessly for a long while. Your head tips back as you do so, and you marvel at the stars above. They are everywhere, filling the whole sky like tiny holes in the fabric of the universe.

They make you feel small.

After a while, you let out a deep sigh, curling your legs beneath you. You lie on your back in the cool grass, staring up at the vastness of the cosmos.

You’re so heavy.

The weight of your sins is a constant pressure that presses down on your bones, and as you gaze into the endless expanses above, you wonder if your chest will cave in.

You feel wetness on your face, and you don’t bother to wipe it away. Your breathing is even, your heartbeat steady even as the tears creep down your cheek, into your hair.

You’re so tired.

You think about your mission, about your journey with the brothers. It feels like you’ve been searching for a solution for a lifetime, like you’ve been running in circles for millennia.

You wonder if all of this is pointless.

You wonder if you’re ever going to be able to keep your promise; if you’ll ever be able to right your wrongs.

You’ve been wondering it more and more often lately.

The invisible weight presses down harder on your chest, and you wonder if you’re going to feel like this for the rest of your life.

...You wonder if you even want to be alive.

You reach out your hand to the cold, uncaring stars above, but you don’t know what you’re reaching for.

You don’t know what you want anymore.

You don’t know why you’re doing this anymore.

You think that if it weren’t for the boys back at home, you’d probably be dead by now; you owe them your life.

You press your palms over your eye and your empty socket, blocking out the sight of the stars above you.

You wonder if you’ll ever join them.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the cold air, and the soft breeze steals the words from your lips.

You feel a pressure on your stomach, and pull your hands away from your face. Blinking back tears, you’re surprised to see a grey-black cat by your side, standing with its front two paws on you. It blinks at you slowly, and with a jolt, you realize that its eyes are purple.

It’s unusual to see a stray cat all the way out here, but not entirely unheard of. You’ve seen maybe three or four over the years you’d lived here, but this is the first to actually approach you.

“Hello handsome,” you whisper, slowly reaching your flesh hand to its face, letting it sniff you. After a moment, it butts its head against your hand, and you let out a small, sad smile. You run your fingers through its soft fur, stroking its ears gently. “Good boy,” you murmur, watching as his eyes squint shut a bit, seeming to enjoy the petting. He climbs up fully onto you, tucking his legs beneath him loaf-style, and he lies on your belly, tail gently flicking through the air behind him.

His gentle weight presses against you, and he is warm. You continue to pet him, and a low purr begins to rumble in his chest.

Your breath hitches. “I wish I was like you,” you whisper to him, and he cracks open one eye to look at you. “You’ve got everything figured out, huh? I envy you.” His tail twitches, and you scratch under his chin. “God, I’m so fucking tired,” you breathe, letting your head fall back into the dirt. “I'm so tired of failing, of always letting everybody down.” Your breath hitches, and you don’t really notice when the cat stops purring. “I hate myself,” you confess. “It’s so fucking hard to get out of bed every day. I need to help them, but no matter what we do, nothing ever works. We’re no closer to a solution than we were when we started.” You close your eye, not wanting to look at the cold, unforgiving stars.

You don’t want them to see you cry.

“I need to be strong,” you choke out, “but it’s so fucking hard. I’d die for them, and they know that—that’s easy. What’s hard is living for them.” You blink back tears and look at the cat, who is sitting upright on your stomach. His purple eyes are fixed on you with a strange intensity, and you scratch behind his ear one more time. “God,” you sigh again, “I wish I was like you.”

The cat’s eyes narrow, and suddenly, he jumps from your lap. He stalks away from you, tail flicking proudly behind him, stopping just once to glance back at you before he disappears into the darkness.

After a few moments, you sniffle, wiping away your tears on the sleeve of your sweater. You force yourself to your feet, the chill in the air beginning to seep into your heavy, ancient bones. You look up at the cold, unforgiving stars above once more, and then you start back toward the house.

※※※

You crack open the front door, slipping inside silently. Down the hall, you notice that the dining room light is on, and you hear Granny and Hohenheim’s voices drifting softly down the corridor. Cursing under your breath, you press your back against the wall and creep through the shadows, not wanting to be seen on your way back upstairs.

As you get closer, their voices become clearer. You do your best to block out Hohenheim’s voice—you want nothing to do with the man, and Granny should have never let him inside—but his words catch you off guard, and you almost stumble over yourself as they sink into your brain. “...the life-form those kids transmuted,” he is saying slowly over the sound of Granny tapping the ashes from her pipe, “...are you positive that it was Trisha?”

Eye narrowing, wondering what kind of sick game he’s playing at, you creep closer, keeping your back to the wall. As you pause right outside the doorway, you notice Ed lurking on the other side of the doorway, eavesdropping as well, and you shake your hair in front of your face, hiding your empty eye-socket from view. His eyes lock onto your own as the two of you take in the conversation in the room behind you.

“Well, I wouldn’t...” Granny replies, her voice reluctant. “It didn’t even look human to me; so I wouldn’t think of it as—”

“No,” Hohenheim interrupts, his voice cold. “That’s not what I’m asking. Did you notice the eye color? Or the hair color?”

“What are you trying to get at?” Granny demands, and a horrible, gnawing dread begins to gather in the pit of your stomach. “Are you telling me that that wasn’t even Trisha?! For all that those kids sacrificed, you’re saying that thing they created wasn’t even their mother?”

You reach your hand up to press tightly over your mouth as you bite back the urge to vomit, and you can see your own horror reflected back Ed’s golden eyes.

※※※

The rain comes down as it never has before. The drops fall in curtains, in walls. The wind blows ferociously, howling like caged animal. The trees groan, bending, submissive below its mighty force. The flashes of lighting are brief but bright—they light up the stormy-grey sky to a near-blinding degree. The thunder crashes with deafening force, shaking the ground where the little white farmhouse used to stand.

You choke back bile, soaked to the skin as you thrust the metal tip of your shovel into the muddy earth for what feels like the millionth time. You can’t keep a good grip on the handle, and your feet slide wildly in the mud—it’s a struggle just to remain upright. Your thoughts are borderline incoherent, pouring every ounce of strength in your body into the back-breaking work. Every muscle in your back is knotted, and the pain licks  like fire through your body. The electric charge in the air pulses through your limbs, and the stump of your left shoulder throbs in near-agonizing pain.

Behind you, you can hear Ed choke out a gag of pain. You’d turn around to check on him, but the rain is coming down hard enough that you can’t even see him clearly through the drops.

You don’t know how long you’ve been digging; it feels like a lifetime. Granny had buried the body you’d created all those years ago, and she hadn’t marked the spot.

So the two of you dug wildly, with no guidance, not even sure what you’re looking for.

It’s been four years—will there even be anything left?

The storm rages on, and you dig fruitlessly.

The hours pass; more than once, your knees give out beneath you, and you fall into the icy mud.

You don’t want to get back up.

But you do—you always do, you have to.

You can’t tell if the wetness on your face is tears or rain.

It’s probably both.

Eventually, the storm begins to slow. Slow, but not stop, as fat, heavy drops still pelt you mercilessly.

You keep digging.

Your mind is blank.

You choke back vomit as you push your tiny body past its limits.

Eventually, the rain stops, and you keep digging.

Finally, after a hundred lifetimes, you hear Ed let out a wordless exclamation, and you whirl around so quickly that you fall again into the mud. Pinched between his fingers is a muddy, filthy lock of hair, and the look on his face is somewhere between victorious and distraught.

The two of you fall on your knees beside the bucket of clean rainwater as he dunks the lock of hair beneath the surface, scrubbing the muck from it with an ardent desperation.

Slowly, almost mechanically, he lifts the hair from the bucket, and stares at the limp strands clenched in his fist.

He casts his haunted gaze up to your face. “Echo?” he whispers, his tone unreadable. “Mom’s hair was a light chestnut color... right?”

You nod brokenly as you stare into the jet-black hair in his palm.

You

can’t

handle

this

right

now.

Something in your brain clicks into place, and you switch into autopilot.

The shaking in your limbs stops abruptly. The fingers of icy cold that had been clinging to your bones disappear. The jolting pain coursing through your body vanishes in an instant.

There are no thoughts running through your mind as you squeeze Ed’s shoulder firmly with your automail hand.

You don’t remember pulling the bones from the hole Ed had dug, and you don’t remember lining them up on the muddy ground for the two of you to examine. You don’t remember measuring the bones, don’t remember the way it felt as you realized with a definite finality that this really isn’t Trisha—that it never had been.

You block out the realization that you had ruined your life, ruined the boy’s lives—for nothing.

You block out the sight of Ed collapsing to his knees in the mud in front of you, of him rearing his head back in a hysterical mockery of a laugh.

And then he begins to speak, and you’re jolted—kicking and screaming, you try desperately to claw your way back to apathy, because being numb is so much better than being forced to live with the reality of what you’d done—back into your own body, thrust back into your own poisonous mind.

“Then that’s it,” he whispers, and he lifts his stricken face to the sky above, the rain rolling in rivulets down his cheeks. “It really is impossible to bring the dead back to life. The undeniable truth.” He brings his hands up over his eyes, his fingers clawing at his hair, tugging his blonde bangs savagely. A twisted grin splits his face. “It was impossible all along!!” he screams out, and you fall to your own knees beside him.

His hands reach out to you, seemingly on their own, and you reach out too, just as blindly. You hug him tightly, and he squeezes back, his grip so intense that you can barely breathe.

For what feels like a lifetime, the two of you shiver in the freezing rain, trying not to be crushed by the weight of your failure.

Then, all too soon—please come back I’m not strong enough to do this on my own—he pulls back, squeezing your arms almost painfully tightly. His golden gaze meets your own hazy, empty, shattered green one, and when he speaks, his voice is impossibly strong. “Do you know what this means?” he asks you, and numbly, you shake your head. A ghost of a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes harden with determination. “This means that it’s possible to get Al’s body back.”

※※※

You shiver in Granny’s living room, curled up in a blanket in front of the fire, watching Ed’s back as he picks up the phone, dialing Teacher’s number.

You are struck by how strong the boy is—stronger than you, for sure. You’re still reeling from this soul-shattering discovery, the weight of this failure crushing your lungs, unable to move on from the realization that all of your struggles, all of this agony that you put yourselves through every day was all for nothing—and you marvel at your best friend, who has already dusted himself off and is ready to move on.

You wish that you could be strong like him, but you are weak and useless, and you despise yourself for it. You curl your knees into your chest and hug them tightly.

You press your face into your knees and bite back tears.

You're so tired.

※※※

“What the hell?!”

“I’m sorry, Brother.”

To call your little brother “beat up” would be a bit of an understatement—one of his arms is completely detached, and he’s missing the entire lower half of his face-plate.

“Holy shit, Al—are you okay? What happened to you?!”

With a sigh, he explains to you and Ed what had happened in the Third Laboratory.

When he’s done, Ed lets out a sigh of his own, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “The homunculus and Barry the Chopper. And just to throw a cherry on top, you find out your body might reject your soul!” he recaps. After a moment, he sighs again, and crosses the room to grab Al’s detached arm from where it rests on the coffee table of your hotel room.

“I’m going to have to extend what little you have left of your armor,” he explains, and you hold the limb in place for him as he transmutes it back onto Al’s body. Then, thinning out the metal on his helmet, he uses the extra material to repair the younger boy’s face-plate.

You take a seat on the couch as Al runs a quick test to make sure everything is working properly. After confirming that everything is as it should be, Ed comes to rest beside you.

“Al, I’ve gotta tell you something,” he sighs, and you drop your gaze to the floor, not wanting to see the boy’s reaction to the news he’s about to hear. “We dug up the body we buried in Resembool.”

“What?!” he cries out. “Why would you do that?!”

“Because, Al,” Ed continues, “We found out that the thing we buried wasn’t really our mother.”

After a few beats of tense silence, you flick your eye over to the armored boy as he drops himself onto the couch across from you, clutching his head in both hands in disbelief. “But, wait a minute, then that means—!”

“I’m sorry, Al,” you murmur, letting your gaze drop to the floor again. “That thing we made... I don’t know what it was, but it definitely wasn’t Trisha—it was something completely different.”

“But if it wasn’t, then what happened to me?”

“That’s just it,” Ed replies. “This has actually convinced me that we can return you to normal!”

“You said that before, too,” you recall. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. That night, we were able to pull you out, Al. We actually did it! I know it was only your soul, but that’s just it! If we were able to pull that much of you out, then I’ve got a hunch that your body is still in there, and I can pull it out, too!”

“You think my body is still in the portal,” Al repeats, the smallest shred of hope beginning to tinge his voice. “Existing separately from my soul?” Suddenly, he gasps. “Like Barry’s body!”

“Right!” Ed agrees. He draws forward on the couch, clenching his fist in front of him in determination. “Try to think back!” he urges. “Can you remember what happened when the Truth unraveled you?”

Al’s eye lights dim, and you can almost see him recede into the depths of his memories. “I reached out,” he begins slowly, “and it was me—it was my hand I grabbed!”

A wicked grin splits Ed’s face. “I knew it!” he cheers. “It looks like we’re not done with the Truth yet, Al! We’re going to get in there and pull your body out!”

“I...” Al says, not sounding nearly as excited as he should be, considering the fact that this is the closest he’s come to actual progress toward getting his body back. “After the portal, I remember looking at the two of you from inside that thing—that thing we thought was Mom.”

A chill runs down your spine as a mental image of the thing you’d created flashes through your mind despite your attempts to hold it back. You can remember in vivid detail the unnatural curve of its spine, the horrible angle every limb stuck out at, the bones that stuck protruded from its cracked, black, borderline-melted flesh that half-stuck to the basement floor. “You... you were inside that thing?” you repeat, horrified. “That thing... was you?”

“I guess so,” confirms the boy. “But my soul didn’t bind; it must have rejected me right away. So that means—that means we didn’t harm anyone else’s soul after all!”

“But if what we transmuted was you, then...?” Before you can even finish formulating that thought, you’re interrupted by a sharp knock, and all three of you turn your attention toward the door.

“Mr. Elric? You have a telephone call from Izumi Curtis.”

The three of you rush downstairs to the hotel lobby, and Ed picks up the phone, holding it up to his ear. “Hello?” he greets, and you sidle up beside him, leaning in close so that you can hear Teacher’s words. He tilts the phone slightly away from himself so that you can both listen.

“I did some research,” the woman states, her tone unreadable. “Sig and I looked up our family lines, and—well, the child that I transmuted... it couldn’t... it wasn’t...” This is the first time you’ve ever heard Teacher speak with anything other than an incredible confidence, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t unnerve you. “...It didn’t have a single physical trait that could have come from either one of us.” After a brief pause, she seems to regain her composure. “You’re on to something, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Ed replies, tilting the phone a little closer to himself so that he can speak into the mouth piece. “I’ve come to the conclusion that death is permanent.”

“So not even transmutation can change that fact. All this time...” Her voice is solemn, quiet. “I thought I must have missed something, but it was impossible to do in the first place.” There is a short pause and then—“Hey!”

Her tone is sharp and authoritarian, and reflexively, both of you straighten up, standing at attention. “Yes, ma’am!” you reply simultaneously, years of training with her guiding your response.

There is a silence on her end that seems to stretch out, and you feel a bead of sweat run down your neck. Then finally, she speaks again, and her voice is soft with an expression you’ve never heard from her before. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and then there is a click as the line goes silent.

Ed draws the phone away from his ear and holds it in front of him, and the two of you glance at each other, both startled and confused by her parting words. After a beat, he slowly returns it to its cradle.

“So what did Teacher have to say?” urges Al, having been left out of the conversation.

“She...” you reply slowly. “She said ‘thank you’.”

A silence falls over the three of you, and you slowly start to make your way back up toward your hotel room. As you begin to walk up the stairs, you hear Al’s footsteps stop behind you. Pausing you glance back over your shoulder and see him standing motionless at the bottom, his red eye lights trained on the floor between his feet. “Al?”

“This entire time, I’ve been blaming myself for what happened,” he begins, and his voice is thick with emotion, his hand balled into a trembling fist at his side. “I thought it was me. I thought I was the one who killed Mom a second time.”

“And so did I, Al,” you hear Ed agree quietly behind you, his words tight and clipped.

Pressing your lips tightly together, you can feel the cuts on your thighs burning. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nod your own agreement.

Al’s gloved hands fly up, and he buries his face between them. “Thanks, guys,” his voice cracks. “I wasn’t the one who killed Mom after all!”

You feel a lump lodge itself into your throat, and you wish that this discovery could ease the guilt you’ve been carrying in you for the past four years, but it doesn’t, not really.

Maybe I didn’t kill Mom, you think to yourself bitterly, but this doesn’t solve anything.

Look at how they’re suffering, chimes the tiny voice in the back of your mind. You could have stopped this! You could have saved them, but you wanted to be selfish! You wanted to be greedy! Look at how they suffer for your sins!

You feel tears begin to prick your eye, and bite down savagely on the inside of your cheek. You don’t deserve to cry.

“But still,” Ed replies behind you, his voice even and steady; you want to turn to face him, but don’t trust yourself to move. “None of this changes the fact that I’m the one who put you in that body. And I don’t care what it takes—I’m going to make you normal again.”

“Brother!” Al’s voice is sharp, and you can only half hear him as your throat begins to tighten and your hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. “I was right there with you, and I knew that there would be risks! So stop trying to shoulder all of this on your own!”

Look at what you’ve done to them! the voice crows, delighted. Look at how they blame themselves for your own stupid mistakes! Look at how they suffer for the decisions you’ve made! Your throat tightens further, and you struggle to breathe as the voice gets louder and louder in your head.

“I can’t watch you suffer like this,” Al continues, hands balling into tight, shaking fists at his sides. “Not on your own.”

Look at what you’ve done to him! To Ed! You’ve ruined them! You’ve stolen their future! Their bodies! You bow your head and let your hair fall around you like a curtain to cover your face; you bite down harder on your cheek, and the familiar taste of blood fills your mouth. How much more will you take from them? When will you stop? How much more do you expect them to suffer for you?

“I can’t just stand back and watch other people get hurt over what I’ve done—like what happened to Mister Hughes! I thought it was my fault when I found out he was dead.” Your ears are ringing and the trembling in your hands rises up your arms, up your shoulders and down to your legs, and you quiver like a leaf in the wind. You can hear Al’s voice in the background but can’t make out the words as the voice rises to a crescendo, screaming inside your head.

How much more are you going to take from them? You’re like a leech—you take and you take and you take—you’re going to bleed them dry!

You’re going to kill them!

You’re going to kill them!

You’re going to kill them!

“I can’t take it anymore!” Al cries out, and you let out a ragged gasp, choking back a sob as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “Because—! I can’t—I can’t take all the nights by myself! It’s too lonely!” he cries, voice breaking.

Look at what you’ve done to your own little brother! it screams at you, and it’s deafening, bouncing around in your skull. YOU’RE GOING TO TAKE EVERYTHING THEY HAVE TO OFFER, YOU FUCKING PARASITE! YOU DON’T DESERVE TO LIVE AFTER WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THEM!

Your knees give out and you collapse on the stairs, choking out a horrible, sobbing gasp before your throat closes completely.

You hear both of them cry out your name as you grip the banister in one hand, your grip so tight that you feel the wood splinter beneath your wretched metal hand. You feel Ed’s hand on your shoulder and you blink, and when you open your eye, you’re standing.

You can’t breathe.

Your body is numb.

The voice in your head is screaming, and all you can hear is the deafening ringing in your ears.

Your eye rolls back in your skull.

You don’t deserve to live!!!

You can feel Ed’s hands on your cheeks, and, as your vision starts to blur, you can see his golden eyes, filled with tears and terror and he calls out your name again.

“I have to go,” you choke out.

You duck from under his hands, dart around Al who tries to block your way, and then sprint across the lobby and out the door.

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.” 

—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

You sit, curled up in the hayloft of the old, abandoned barn. Tears are drying on your cheek as you run your fingers over the dry hay beneath you.

The barn is about an hour’s walk from the Rockbell’s house, but you’d run here, so it hadn’t taken you that long. This is always where you’d gone when you needed to be by yourself when you were growing up; your own personal hiding spot.

You sit, bathed in the moonlight from the smashed-out window, taking the time to gather your thoughts. Who knows how long you’ve been here—hours, maybe? You glance at the sky, using the moon’s position to guess the time. 

It’s late, and you’re so tired. Your eye is swollen, face puffy from crying.

You’re going to have to think of something to say to the boys in the morning. You try to start thinking up a good excuse, but your head is muddled, temples throbbing with a headache. Your legs ache, fresh blood beginning to dry on the old hay beneath you.

You’ll deal with it in the morning, you decide, and curl in on yourself. You tuck your flesh arm beneath your head like a pillow, rolling onto your side. Letting your exhausted eye slide shut, you fall into a fitful sleep.

※※※

You’re curled up on your side in the old, abandoned barn near the Rockbell’s house. You blink awake, bleary, and look around, not sure what woke you. The moon shafts in from the window, stars dotting the sky outside. The night is silent; the crickets that would sound a summer symphony are all hibernating underground as the cold fingers of winter begin to creep in.

Everything seems normal, you think to yourself, and are about to fall back asleep when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye. Sitting up, you cast your gaze into the shadows, squinting to try to see better in the blackness. 

There, standing in the far corner of the hayloft, is a figure. You can’t make out any details, but they are short, and slim.

“Hello?” you call out, shaking your hair from your face and making sure that your eyepatch is in place. “Who’s there?”

“What, you don’t recognize me?” calls back the response in a jarringly familiar, female voice. “You really should, you know. It’s like looking into a mirror, after all!”

You only have a moment to puzzle over the words before the figure steps forward into the light, and your heart leaps into your throat. “W-what?” you stammer. “But… but you’re—!”

“That’s right!” she laughs, pushing her long, wild red hair back from her face. Her automail glints in the moonlight, her single green eye staring down at you with a mocking bemusement. “It’s you!” she crows.

You scoot backwards, your fingers scrabbling through the dry old hay, which is slowly decomposing into dust after the many years it’s been here. “No, you can’t be,” you argue, despite the evidence being right in front of your face. “You can’t be me, I’m me!”

But it is you, it must be. She has your face, your voice, your hair. She has your clothes, your arm, and even your same mocking smile.

You shake your head. “I don’t understand,” you say. “Is this a dream?” You glance around, taking stock; everything feels so real. Could you really be dreaming right now?

The girl tilts her head. “A dream,” she confirms, “or something like it, anyway. Does it really matter? What matters is that I want to get to know you better!” She smiles a predatory smile, and it looks out of place across your features. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, you know,” she tells you, her voice casual. She leans lazily against a support beam, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve been a bit of a fly on the wall, you see... watching you fight, watching you argue, watching you with those boys you love so much.”

Her voice drops a little. “Here’s the thing about those boys, though: they don’t need you.” Her words are cold and cruel, your own inner monologue turned outside you. “You’re nothing but dead weight to them! Think about how strong they are. Ed with his alchemy, his determination; Al with his wisdom and charisma… And you?” She snorts, tilting her head as if weighing you with disdain. “What are you? Just a girl with a missing arm and a fragile mind. You can’t even protect yourself, much less them. You’re the weakest link in the chain, and a chain always breaks at the weakest link.”

“No,” you rasp, shaking your head. “That’s not true. Ed and Al love me! They care about me—we’re family!”

She taps one finger against her chin thoughtfully, ignoring you completely, as if you hadn’t spoken. “I watch you when you think you’re alone, too,” she confesses, lowering her voice a little. “When you think no one is there, and you do… hmm… such interesting things…” She hums, lowering her one-eyed gaze to your thighs significantly. 

You feel your cuts burning beneath her gaze, and your face heats. You shake your head defiantly. “No,” you deny, fighting the urge to cover your legs with your hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She smiles. “Oh,” she purrs. “But you do. You like to hurt yourself—” she pronounces the words clearly, snipping the ends off with her teeth. “—on purpose! And I want to know why.”

You shake your head again, harder this time. “No!” you say again. “No, I don’t! You’re crazy! Get away from me!”

Suddenly, she’s behind you, gripping your shoulders too tightly in her mismatched hands. She whispers in your ear, her breath stirring your hair. “I think you might just be the most interesting human I’ve ever met,” she croons. “You have so much to be grateful for, and yet you’re so miserable that you would even make yourself bleed, just to know you’re alive!” She laughs. “It’s fascinating to me, honestly!”

You turn sharply, lashing out with your fist, but she’s gone before you can make contact. Your gaze darts around wildly, but your doppelganger is gone, nowhere to be seen. Instead, a mouse scurries out from the darkness before you, darting over your feet before it scuttles back into the shadows, where you lose sight of it.

“You humans have such complex emotions.” Your own voice emanates back at you from the darkness all around. “You live such meager, colorful lives, full of feelings—feelings like love, like hatred, like joy. It’s disgusting.” The voice is spiteful, and yet she sounds almost envious. You step back, pressing your back against the wall. Your eye scans the room; you can’t see the girl, but you can hear her, her voice bouncing off the walls. “But you’re different from them,” she continues, sounding thoughtful. “Bleaker, blacker, less colorful. Some light shines through, sure, but you’re dark inside. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I want to know more.”

Your heart is lodged in your throat. “I don’t even know who you are,” you croak out in a whisper.

The voice laughs. “I already told you,” she chastises. “I’m you.”

You squeeze your eye shut against the darkness, gripping your hair in both hands. “Stop it,” you beg. “Stop it! I don’t want this!”

A fly buzzes past your ear. “Oh Echo,” she sighs, and her voice sounds close by. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?”

“You’re not real!” you shout out, desperation growing inside you. “You’re just a bad dream! Leave me alone! I want to wake up now!”

“You can’t wake up right now,” your voice calls back at you cryptically. “But you can fall asleep again. I guess I’ll leave you be for now, since it seems you don’t have anything helpful to say. But don’t worry, I’ll be back again,” she promises, her voice bouncing around the darkness, sounding like it’s surrounding you. “I would tell you to leave the window open for me, but the truth is that I don’t need that to get to you.”

You shudder, and her laugh bounces around the room again. “Sweet dreams, Echo dear. Don’t stay up too late, your ‘friends’ will be looking for you in the morning!”

You stare ahead for a long time, waiting in tense silence, but whatever that was seems to be gone. Slowly, you manage to calm your racing heartbeat, your breath steadying out. Still, you wait, taking stock of the night until you’re sure that whatever that was, it wasn’t coming back.

Slowly, sleep begins to drag its claws at you again, and the more you think about what just happened, the less sense it makes. After all, there’s only one of you! You must’ve been dreaming after all.

As sleep overtakes you, you push the memory to the back of your mind. You’ve got a lot to deal with in the morning, and you need to get back to sleep.

※※※

You wake slowly to the sound of metal footsteps shuffling through the hay below. The sun streams in through the cracks in the barn walls, casting golden light over the dusty old beams. Your body aches, stiff from sleeping in the hayloft, and as you shift, the dried blood on your thighs tugs painfully at your skin, causing you to wince in pain.

“Echo?” Alphonse’s voice, soft and worried, calls up from below. You freeze for a moment, not sure whether or not you can get away with not responding, but you know it’s too late—he’s already here. You hear his armor creak as he moves closer. “Are you up there?”

You sit up slowly, brushing hay from your hair, and crawl over to the edge of the hayloft, where you peek down at him from above. His helmet is tilted up toward the loft, the morning light gleaming off his metal body. You can’t see his expression, but he lets out a small, relieved little breath when he sees you. 

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, voice hoarse from sleep. “I’m here.”

Al sighs softly. “I thought I might find you here,” he says. “Ed is looking for you over by the graveyard. We were worried when you didn’t come back last night.” He climbs the ladder carefully, the old wood creaking beneath him. He comes to rest in the hay beside you, his eyelights flicking over you. “Are you okay?”

You avert your gaze, scratching the back of your head sheepishly. “I’m okay,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “I just got a little overwhelmed last night, and I needed some time to myself.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I’ve known you almost my whole life—you can rely on me and Ed.”

You shake your head, grimacing. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s really not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he argues, surprising you with the force behind his words. He puts his hand on your shoulder, the touch surprisingly comforting for being cold metal. “Your feelings are important, and you shouldn’t be afraid to share them with us. You’re our family; you don’t have to do things alone.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you have to fight the tears that well up in your eye. You want to tell him the truth—that sometimes, you feel like your lungs are full of water and your head is beneath the surface, that sometimes everything is so overwhelming that up is down and left is right, that you’ve felt broken for so long that you don’t even remember what it is to be whole anymore—but then you think about unloading your burden onto your little brother, and the thought makes you sick to your stomach. 

So you force another smile, a better one this time, and shake your head again. “Really, Al, I’m okay. I just had a bad night.” You glance away, looking at the dust dancing in the beams of light cast through the slats of the barn. “It’s something that happens sometimes.”

Al doesn’t push you, but he doesn’t seem convinced either. His hand stays on your shoulder, warm in its own way. “Okay,” he says softly, though there’s a note of sadness in his voice. “But just remember, we’re here for you. Always.”

For a moment, the silence stretches between you, comfortable in its own way. You know he means it, that he and Ed would do anything for you, but there’s a part of you that still can’t bring yourself to unload your burdens on them. Not yet. Not when you can’t even carry the weight on your own.

“Thanks, Al,” you say quietly, finally turning to meet his gaze. “I really appreciate it.”

He nods, his grip on your shoulder squeezing slightly before he lets go and stands up. “I’ll go let Ed know you’re okay,” he says, turning toward the ladder. “Come back when you’re ready. We’ll be at the house with breakfast.”

You watch him climb down, the sound of his footsteps fading as he leaves the barn. Once he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You know they love you and that they only want to help, but you know full well the weight you have to carry, and you can’t imagine putting that onto anybody that you care about.

You lie back down in the hay, closing your eye against the sunlight. You’ll go back soon—back to the boys, back to pretending. For now, though, you need just a little bit longer.

※※※

“So I was thinking about what you were saying last night,” Al says, as you and Ed look up at him from the couch. “What if I’ve started to rot?”

You both blink at him, shocked. “What?”

“I doubt my body is getting any nutrients,” he frets. “Or any sleep, either! So even if we get it back from over there, who knows what state it will be in!”

You glance at Ed, not having ever considered that before. “Do you think that could be true?” you worry.

He puts his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “Now, this is just a hypothesis,” he says, “but I was thinking about the transmutation and trying to retrace our process. You remember how we mixed our blood for a blueprint of Mom’s soul?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, right after that, we passed through the portal, where we were all deconstructed. Now, it’s a slim chance, but I think our spirits might’ve gotten mixed up in the process.”

Al tilts his head. “What are you saying?”

“I’m trying to explain,” Ed responds, looking at his brother, “that our bodies might be connected somehow, even though I’m here and your body is over there. That might even explain why I’m so sh—!” he cuts himself off, freezing for several moments. 

Just as you’re about to get concerned, he wilts a little. “Sh… Short…!” he whimpers, deflating like a balloon, and you turn to Al, shocked.

“He actually admitted it!” you say in disbelief.

“He’s starting to accept reality!” Al agrees.

“Anyway, what about me?” you ask, leaning forward. “We didn’t use my blood during the transmutation, but I still passed through the portal with you. Do you think my soul is mixed up in there too?”

Ed shakes his head. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “It’s just a theory, anyway.”

“What would that even mean?” you question. “You think that you’re absorbing nutrients to share with Al in the other dimension?”

“I do,” he agrees.

“Well,” you consider, “you do sleep a lot. Maybe you’re resting for him, too?”

Al seems hopeful. “I sure hope you’re right,” he says.

※※※

“Are you here to visit the Colonel?” Sergeant Fuery asks, as he walks you down the hospital hallway. The three of you had bumped into him in the elevator.

“Yes,” you confirm. “We heard that he and Mister Havoc are sharing a room, and we’re here to pay our respects.”

“I definitely owe it to the Colonel,” Al agrees. “He saved me right at the last second!”

Ed looks up at the young Sergeant. “Are you also dropping by for a visit?”

Fuery smiles and holds up some papers. “And bringing a little present!”

※※※

Inside the hospital room, Mustang sits up on his hospital bed, examining the map that Fuery had brought him. Havoc lies in the bed beside him, hooked up to an IV drip, and Hawkeye stands guard by the door.

“I counted the number of steps it took to get to the basement of the Third Laboratory,” the woman explains, “and I was able to calculate the approximate location of that room we were in. It’s not exact, since the hallway curved, but I was able to deduce a radius with the lab at the center.” She points to the area on the map that she’d circled.

Ed’s eyes widen as he takes in what he’s looking at. “That’s Central Command,” he breathes. “But this is even more alarming!”

“It’s the presidential estate,” Al continues, “right above where we found the homunculi!”

“Which means,” sighs Mustang, hanging his head, “that there’s a very real possibility that the Führer is connected to them.”

“But that doesn't make sense,” Al argues. “Why did he kill Greed and his group if he’s supposed to be connected to them?”

“Why did he kill them outright in the first place?” you put forth, hand on your hip. “Why wouldn’t he interrogate them first?”

“It’s strange alright,” Mustang agrees, his brow furrowed. “Damned inscrutable.” He looks up from the map, casting his gaze around at you and Ed. “One thing’s for sure: the enemy has infiltrated high up in Command, so extreme caution is necessary at all times. So you two, watch yourselves.” His warning resounds grimly in the air, and the two of you nod solemnly.

※※※

You, Ed, and Al walk along the path outside the hospital that leads out toward the street. Ed has his hands stuffed into his pockets, and you squint against the sun, which is just beginning to set in front of you.

“Do you really think the Führer is working with the homunculi?” you ask, scraping the toes of your boots against the ground. 

Ed shrugs. “Who can say? The Colonel sure seems to think so.”

“I already knew the government was corrupt,” you sigh, “but I never imagined that it ran so deep. I guess it could make sense. He’s at the head of the government; who would be able to question him?” You tilt your head, a memory coming back to you. “Say, do you remember what that McDougal guy said, back when we fought him in Central this summer?”

A vein pulses in Ed’s forehead at the mention. “You mean when he said that we were runts?” he growls, and you shake your head at him. 

“No,” you say, warming up to the thought more the more you think about it. “When he was on his way to freeze over Central Command, he asked if we really knew who we were selling our souls for. He said something about wanting to ‘save this country’—and Führer Bradley killed him too!” 

“I remember that!” Al agrees. “I thought it was weird at the time, but I didn’t think much of it! Do you think he knew something that we don’t?”

Ed shakes his head. “He must’ve,” he says, and then sighs. “We’ll have to be extra careful from now on. You never know who’s watching.”

※※※

You and Ed stroll out of the gates surrounding the Third Laboratory, turning the corner to meet up where Al is waiting. “How did it go?” he asks. 

“Easy,” Ed shrugs, pulling the map that Hawkeye had drawn from his pocket. “We told them we were State Alchemists and they let us right in, no questions asked.”

“Did you find the basement?”

“No,” you frown, glancing at the map again over Ed’s shoulder. “There was no basement. We did see that the wall was messed up right around where the doorway was supposed to be, which means somebody probably used some quick alchemy to seal it up.”

“It was stupid of us to think they wouldn’t try to cover up the evidence,” replies Ed, shoving the map and his hands back into his pockets.

“I guess so,” Al agrees, and the three of you begin walking away from the Lab. “Where else are we going to find a homunculus if we can’t get down there?”

“I’m not sure,” Ed muses, and the glow from the street lamps above lights up his golden hair like a crown. “Do you remember how they told Echo and I that we were their sacrifices, and they needed us alive?”

Al nods. “They told me the same thing. Lust told me that when she found out that I opened the portal.”

“So that’s one part of the puzzle,” Ed states. “They’re looking for alchemists that managed to open the portal and make it back out alive. But the real question is: why do they want to sacrifice us?” He clenches a gloved fist in front of his face. “So, we’ll have to beat an answer out of them!”

You’re about to ask what, exactly, he means by that, when a voice rings out from the darkness in front of you.

“Hey guys, wait!” it calls, and a familiar face comes running toward you. 

“Mister Brosch? Is that you?” you ask as the man catches up, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He has a piece of paper rolled up in one hand.

“You should go back to your hotel room, right now!” he says roughly, panting for breath, and hands you the paper. “I can escort you, if you want me to.”

Confused at his urgency, you unroll the paper, reading its contents aloud. “Attention all military personnel: It has been verified that Scar has returned to Central. Three casualties have been reported so far, all confirmed as State Alchemists. According to eye-witness reports, he is described as an Ishvalan, with an X-shaped scar on his forehead. Other identifiable markings include a tattoo on his right arm.” You look up at Ed and Al, your eye widening. “A tattoo on his right arm!” you repeat. “It’s him!”

※※※

“So you’re saying Scar killed Winry’s parents?” Al says, sitting on the couch of your hotel room.

“We don’t know for certain,” you say, crossing your legs on the coffee table in front of you, looking over at Ed, who leans against the arm of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I sure don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“Poor Winry,” says Al sadly, turning away to look down at his hands. “We’re going to have to tell her the next time we see her, but… I can’t stand to make her cry!”

Ed grimaces. “No, me neither.” 

You sigh. “I’ll be the one to tell her, then,” you say, playing with a few loose strands of hair. “We’ll have to make a stop in Rush Valley to see her soon, and I’ll break the news…” You shift uncomfortably at the thought, but you know it has to be done eventually. She deserves to know the truth.

Ed turns to look at the two of you over his shoulder, and then he pushes himself up off the armrest. “It’s the last thing I want to do,” he says, his voice determined, “but we have to confront Scar.”

“You want to do what?” you demand, rising to your feet. “Why?”

He gives you a confident, boyish grin. “Because,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We’re going to lure out the homunculi.”

You glare at him flatly. “Are you crazy?” you demand.

“Think about it,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward. “They need us alive for their sacrifice, don’t they? So I doubt they’ll be willing to just stand by while Scar kills us.”

“I don’t know,” Al says. “It seems like a pretty big gamble to me.”

“Getting into fights is one thing,” you agree. “Going looking for one is another. Maybe you forgot, but the last time we saw Scar, he almost killed us! And then we got the shit beat out of us by Greed!”

“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any other ideas!” the blonde boy argues, putting his hands on his hips, but he’s starting to sweat. “Besides… we’ve gotten stronger these past, uh, few months. And…!”

Al crosses his arms over his chest and leans up from the couch, looming over Ed menacingly, causing the boy to sweat even harder. “Oh yeah?” he interrupts, as if daring him to continue. “And what are you going to do if a homunculus does show up? How are you going to catch one? They’re super strong and pretty much can’t die!”

Before the boy can respond, there is a rustling sound against the far wall. You all turn to face the window, where Ling Yao is now perched, half-in, half-out of the room. He waves at you cheerfully, his masked bodyguard, Lan Fan, at his side. “‘Can’t die’?” he repeats excitedly. “Was that a hyperbole?!”

“Or are they actually immortal?” Lan Fan continues, her voice low and serious.

You sweat-drop in exasperation. “We really need to start remembering to lock the window,” you mutter.

※※※

“Count us in!” Ling says eagerly after Ed has explained his (questionable) plan. “We’d love to help you guys!”

“Why do you say that?” you ask, still overall suspicious of the man.

You and the boys sit on one couch, facing across from the two Xingese visitors on the other. “I can’t say I care about the military stuff,” Ling admits, tilting his head to one side. “But it sounds like these homunculi are just what we’ve been looking for!” You continue to eye him warily, and he shifts beneath your gaze. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “You look kinda… skeptical.”

“Don’t get us wrong,” Ed says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “We’re grateful for the help you’ve already given us, but this is—!”

“You’ve got better odds with more help!” Ling interrupts, and Ed draws back a little. “I’m serious about this,” the dark haired prince says, and he does actually seem to be rather solemn for once. “This could be what rescues my clan.”

You and Ed both look at Ling for a long moment, and then exchange looks with each other. After a beat, Ed grins a little. “Alright,” he relents, and you let out a sigh. You’re still not sure if this is a good idea, but Ed is right; you can’t think of any other way to get near a homunculus any time soon.

“Just remember,” you remind him. “We’re going into this as a team, and we’re counting on you to back us up.”

Ling smiles, a teasing expression on his face. “I promise not to run off with the enemy!” he swears. “I owe you that much.”

Ed tilts his head. “What for?”

With a broad smile, Ling reaches into his shirt, pulling out a rolled up piece of paper. He presents it to Ed with a flourish.

Ed unrolls the paper, reads what’s on it, and then blanches. “Is this—is this a bill for room service?!” he demands, and you turn your burning gaze on the Xingese boy.

“You absolute freeloader!” you shout, and then launch him and his bodyguard straight out the window in a blast of misty smoke that hits them like an ocean wave.

※※※

Black smoke billows from the crumpled hood of the car, which has crashed into a food stand on the side of the road. The owner of the car has his hat in his hands, and he bows remorsefully to the stand owner. “I’m sorry,” he grovels, ducking his head, deeply aware of the crowd gathering around to stare at the scene. “I’m really sorry, sir!”

The owner of the stand, an older, balding man, grumbles angrily. “Bah,” he spits, waving his hand toward the smashed remains of his stall. “Sorry isn’t going to fix my stand!” 

Suddenly, you and Ed crest a nearby hill, with you casting sparkles down onto the pair below. “It looks like you could use some help!” he states dramatically, striking a pose as he extends a helping hand toward the pair. “It’s a good thing the two of us stumbled by, isn’t that right, Echo?”

“That’s right!” you reply boastfully, just as dramatic. You place your hand on your hip, cocking it out to the side. “Echo Slade and Edward Elric, State Alchemists, here to save the day!”

With a flourish, Ed claps his hands. A bright flash of blue light envelops the broken stall, and when it fades, it is fully repaired.

Standing near the edge of the watching crowd, you begin to applaud! “Wow!” you call out. “Amazing!” Several members of the crowd begin to follow your lead, clapping and murmuring their admiration.

The owner of the car steps forward by Ed’s side, still clutching his hat in his sweaty hands. “Thank you very much, sir! But you have to let me pay you for this!”

“Pay me?” Ed repeats loudly, and then begins to laugh, waving his hands at the man in denial. “That’s not necessary, but thank you!”

Suddenly, an old woman approaches from a house nearby, holding a piece of broken pottery in her hands. “Can you help me?” she requests pitifully. “It’s a family heirloom. Can you put it back together?”

You smile magnanimously, and wave your hand at Ed. “He can repair anything you bring him! Everybody, go get your junk and gather ‘round! And while you’re waiting in line, you can watch my… puppet show!”

As some people begin to gather broken items in need of repair, others turn their attention toward you. You notice quite a few young children in the crowd, their mothers pointing out your street-performer self to get their attention. 

With a clap of your hands, you set up a black, smoky puppet stage, and you set yourself in the window to narrate. “Once upon a time, there was a prince!” you state, and raise your hand toward the crowd, palm up. There, in the center of your hand, gathers together a little shadowy puppet man, a tiny shadow crown resting upon his head. You lower your hand to the stage and the little puppet man steps off your hand, seeming to look around at the crowd. 

“He was the prince of a magical land!” you continue, and summon up a billowing castle for the prince to approach. “Ruling by his side was his little brother and their good friend, a kind and generous princess!” With a wave, a little shadow puppet of another prince and a little princess, each with their own little crown.

You watch the children in the crowd light up in delight at your antics, and their mothers smile at you fondly as you weave a tale of trials and of delight, of monsters and, most importantly, of a happily-ever-after.

As you and Ed continue your boisterous performances, Al gathers excitement in the crowd, and more and more people begin to draw together to watch. Eventually, a massive mob has drawn around you, and you hear your names echoing throughout the crowd as they murmur in awe.

※※※

You continue your performances all across town, until finally, you both need a break. You’ve stopped at a local cafe, where the shopkeeper offered you each a free drink as thanks for repairing his juicer.

You sip at your juice, confident that enough people were talking about you to gather attention. Even now, just sitting at the table outside the cafe, people are still staring at you and whispering your names and titles. “Well,” you state, satisfied, “I’m pretty sure everybody in Central knows about the Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists now, right guys?”

Al rubs a piece of confetti off his shoulder. “Well, you two did go a little over the top,” he says.

Before you can respond, a black car rolls to a stop on the street in front of you, and rolls their window down. “Since when did the two of you decide to become street performers?” Mustang asks you, glancing sidelong at you both out of the corner of his eye.

“Mister Mustang!” you say, rising to your feet in surprise. “Are you okay? Aren’t you still supposed to be in the hospital?”

He shrugs. “Probably.”

Ed rises to lean against the side of the car, and you and Al follow to stand beside him. “I heard about Havoc,” he says to the man. “That he lost the use of his legs and he’s withdrawing from service. I’m sure Doctor Marcoh—”

Mustang raises his hand. “Hold on,” he interrupts. He lowers his voice. “People are watching us. Get in.”

※※※

Once it became apparent that there was no way to fit four humans and a large suit of armor comfortably in the tiny car, Mustang decided to keep the car ride brief, instead taking your conversation to a more private location that is also close by—an old back alley with no doors or windows around.

“Doctor Marcoh has gone missing?” Ed repeats the news that Mustang has just given you in disbelief.

“It looks like it,” the dark haired man agrees, leaning his back against the car. “But there’s something else we need to talk about. I’m sure you’ve heard that Scar’s back. So why are the two of you showboating? Do you want him to find you?”

Ed smirks confidently up at the man. “Yeah,” he confirms; “That’s exactly what we want. We need to fight him and you can’t talk us out of it!”

Mustang scowls angrily. “Have you lost your minds?” he demands. “Smokebomb, you really agreed to this? Did you forget the way he tore you guys apart in East City?!”

You scowl back at him. “It’s not like it’s a fantastic idea, but it’s the only option we have. Besides, if I recall correctly, you weren’t much use that day either! Miss Hawkeye had to step in and save you, too!”

He bristles in response. “That wasn’t my fault,” he retorts hotly; “It was raining that day!”

Ed opens his mouth to join in the argument, but suddenly Hawkeye raises her gun, and everybody freezes, looking to where she’s pointing.

There, at the mouth of the alley, stands a hooded man who could only be Scar. His body is taut with attention, his hand already flexing at his side.

“I guess he got your invite,” remarks Mustang dryly.

“Are you okay?” Ed responds with a grin. “You’d think it’s raining with how much your forehead is dripping!” 

Hawkeye tightens her grip on her pistol, but Ed steps in front of her, putting his arm out. “Hold it!” he cries. “Don’t shoot yet, Lieutenant!”

“What?” the woman demands, incredulous. “You can’t be serious!”

He smiles as Scar begins to rush forward. “I’m trying out the Colonel’s sport,” he declares, cracking his knuckles. “I think I might be able to catch a few fish!”

Scar presses his palms to the ground and it begins to shift beneath his hands. The concrete cracks and shifts in a line headed right for the bunch of you, forming into sharp spikes speeding your way.

As you and Ed rush forward to face him, Al steps toward Mustang and Hawkeye. He uses his alchemy to shield the three of them behind a huge, thick stone wall. He’ll join you shortly, you’re sure, but he’s probably explaining the plan to the two of them first, and giving them cover to get away from here.

That leaves you and Ed alone together as bait for the first few minutes. You know that Ling Yao and Lan Fan are watching from somewhere close by—probably some random person’s rooftop, if you had to guess—but they’d been instructed not to help out in the fight with Scar. Instead, they are to focus on the homunculus, if and when it arrives.

You start the fight by clapping your hands to the ground, coating the whole alley in a thick, misty fog. You, Ed, and Al have practiced for years fighting inside your smokescreens, and you’ve all learned to use your other senses to find both your opponents and each other. For you, it’s even easier—your alchemy doesn’t work like Ed and Al’s, where you deconstruct and then fully reconstruct material; instead, you stop just short of the reconstruction process, not being able to do that part without extreme difficulty. Instead, you have to actively concentrate on the exact location of each molecule you control, and because of that, you can use your smokescreens like a sort of sensory echolocation.

Ed rushes forward, and you can hear him clashing with Scar through the mist. Gritting your teeth in concentration and pressing down harder on the ground, you concentrate on pulling up more material to aid in the fight. You gather a long, smoky dagger in each fist and then launch yourself into fray, using another part of your concentration to first create one shadow clone of yourself, and then two, and then four, until there are five of you attacking along side Ed.

You don’t have to beat him, you remind yourself as you narrowly avoid a blow. You just have to stick it out long enough for a homunculus to show up!

Al throws himself into the fight, and you take a moment to wipe the sweat from your eye. It seems the smokescreen does little to hinder Scar’s ability to fight, and many of his blows do land on you, although you are able to block most of them with shadows solidified in front of you.

The fight drags on and on. You’re beginning to get tired, and you can’t tell how Ed and Al are faring. All you can tell is that they’re on their feet and fighting, but who knows how badly hurt they are?

If you’re going to have any chance of making it out of this fight, you’re going to need that homunculus to show up soon!

“Enough!” roars Scar, and you can feel him slam his hand into the ground. There is a blast of wind, and all of your smoky illusions are blown away in the gale.

※※※

Ling Yao wasn’t sure what he was expecting a homunculus to look like, but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t a fat, squishy, almost shapeless blob of a humanoid.

It had been leaping over the rooftops towards the battle below when Lan Fan had interrupted it with a firm kick to the face. Now, the creature struggles to its feet in the wrecked-out building it’d crashed through, dust billowing around it.

Ling stands on the rooftop and rests his sword on one shoulder. “Hi!” he calls out, waving at the monster. “That’s a rather unusual body you’ve got there!” 

He knows that this creature can only be a homunculus, and he smiles at it. “Just how many people are inside you?” he asks rhetorically.

The creature looks between Ling Yao and his companion—his shadow, he liked to think of her as; always by his side wherever he turns—with a sad, confused look on his face. “Who… are you?” it mumbles quietly.

“Don't even think about running,” Lan Fan growls, lowering her voice to a menacing rumble. “I sense your presence, and I can follow it.” She raises her sword in a ready stance.

A wide smile breaks out across the monster’s face. “Follow?” He repeats, sounding excited. “Me?” His lips begin to peel back over his teeth as his mouth opens impossibly wide, revealing a dragon tattoo in red on his tongue. “Then I’ll just eat you now!” he declares, beginning to lunge forward.

“So, you’re able to detect his presence, are you?” Another voice rings out from the distance, causing the creature to stop, and Ling turns to face it. Down below, there is an older man with dark, graying hair and an eyepatch over one eye, wearing the blue uniform of the military. He draws two thin swords from his back, walking slowly in their direction. “Well, that’s quite the nuisance; let’s take care of it!” 

He looks like a regular old man, but there’s something about him that screams wrong, especially as he looks up at Lan Fan with such cold fury on his face.

Suddenly, there is an explosion of dust and the man is gone. Ling can sense the man’s presence more than he can see him, and he can tell that he’s launched himself toward Lan Fan.

He shouts out her name in a warning, but it seems she’s not able to respond fast enough, as he hears her scream in pain. He watches as her mask, shattered, falls from her face.

“No!” he cries out, reaching a hand toward her, but he’s too slow. “Lan Fan!”

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.” 

—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

Lan Fan cries out in pain, her mask shattering off her face in the force of the man’s attack. She is knocked back, and Ling watches in horror as she sails head first onto the pavement below. She skids when she hits the rooftop, and she leaves a bloody trail in her path. He calls out her name as her attacker looks down at the broken sword in his hand, scoffing in annoyance.

On a rooftop behind the the man in the military uniform, the fat one leans forward eagerly. “Can I eat her now?!” he asks.

The dark haired man sighs. “Just make it quick,” he obliges, and the fat homunculus licks his lips excitedly before leaping forward toward the girl.

Ling is surprised by how quickly the fat beast is able to launch himself through the air, but he knows he is faster. In a flash—before the monster even reaches his bodyguard—he has already struck, his short, curved sword flashing in a deadly arc. There is a splash of blood, and then the top of the creature’s skull along with his upraised hands both slide neatly from the rest of his body. 

He lands neatly on the roof near his fallen companion’s crumpled body, the fat homunculus crashing down loudly nearby. “Lan Fan!” he shouts at her, watching as she twists in pain on the ground. “Please, stay with me!”

She attempts to lift herself up off the ground, but she collapses back down again with an agonized whimper. Gritting his teeth, Ling crouches before her. He slings her over his shoulder as gently as he can, holding his sword in his other hand as the man in blue appears before them, raising his remaining thin sword at them menacingly.

“If you thought you could escape from me that easily,” the man warns, “I’m afraid that you’ll find that you’re sorely mistaken!” Upon his last word, he launches himself at the Xingese teen, who is able to leap away just in time. He hears Lan Fan moan in pain at the sharp movement, and he clenches his jaw.

He and the older man exchange fast, rapid sword strikes, a dance of blows and blocks. Sparks fly from their blades. “Hmph,” the one-eyed man remarks, taking a moment to examine his foe. “I see you’re no stranger to combat!”

Ling does not respond—he can’t, because he’s too busy trying to keep both himself and Lan Fan away from the man’s sword. The attacks are relentless, a cascade of steel. Every time he dodges a blow, he dodges toward the left, fighting in circles around the man, trying to keep himself within his one-eyed enemy’s blind spot.

“Gluttony!” the man shouts out suddenly, and the fat homunculus launches himself toward the teen before he can respond, slamming both fists together into Ling’s stomach like he is swinging a baseball bat.

Ling can feel bile spew from his mouth with the force of the blow as he and Lan Fan go flying through the air, landing with an explosion of dust and debris straight through the window of the building behind him. 

The impact had knocked the wind out of him. Ling fights for breath as he readjusts the girl on his shoulder, struggling to stand. Broken glass rains down from his clothes, and he can feel blood trickling down his back and shoulders.

Before he even gets the chance to fully brace himself, his attackers are there again. “Excellent,” the man in blue says, as Gluttony smiles at him mindlessly from his perch outside the window. “We should have some privacy in here. If you don’t mind, I have some questions.” Ling eyes him warily. “First: I’d like to know who you people are,” the man says, his voice deep and gravelly; “and how you found out what’s inside of Gluttony.”

Ling glances around the room, looking for a way he can get Lan Fan out of here, but the man scoffs at him. “Looking for an escape?” he questions. “Even now? You really don’t give up, do you?” He narrows his one eye at the young royal. “You might stand a fair chance of getting away if you’d just abandon the injured girl,” he offers, “seeing as she’s just extra baggage at this point.”

Ling tightens his grip on his companion, and takes a chance to study his opponent more carefully. He’d already known that he was wearing a military uniform, but upon closer inspection, the man is highly decorated. Four golden stars gleam on the panels at his shoulders.

“Extra baggage?” the prince repeats, incredulous. “You know, I can see all those stars on your uniform. You’re the ruler here—Führer King Bradly, if I’m not mistaken!” He grits his teeth, glaring in disgust. “A ruler’s duty is to his people!” he spits at the man, quoting the line that he’d been spoon-fed since birth. “Without them, he is no king at all! ‘King’ Bradley, you’re no true king; not now or ever!”

“Naïve boy,” Bradley scowls at him. “Don’t you understand that there are no ‘true kings’ in this world?”

Ling feels the girl slung over his shoulder reach into his back pocket, pulling out a flashbang. She pulls the pin with her teeth and tosses it over her shoulder, where it falls with a light ting at the Führer’s feet before exploding in a burst of light and sound.

“Thanks, Lan Fan,” Ling calls out, taking the opportunity to start dashing down the hallway. 

But before his ears are even done ringing, he hears the man shout after him. “Nice try,” he sneers, and something about his tone makes Ling turn and glance over his shoulder. The man’s head is down, but he slowly turns to look up at the teen. “But your flashbomb didn’t succeed in blinding this eye!” Ling stares in horror at the man who had removed his eyepatch, revealing a fully white left eye staring up at him, a red dragon tattoo emblazoned on its surface.

A homunculus!

※※※

You and the boys are fighting out in the open now that Scar had blown your smokescreen away. Ed transmutes a series of stone spikes and spears along the ground in the man’s direction, trying to push him back to give the two of you some distance.

You both knew that one touch was all it would take for the man to end your lives, so you’d agreed on trying to avoid close range combat as much as possible. 

As your attacker dashes his way through the rough terrain that Ed had summoned, you press your hands to the wall nearby. You transmute the material into a series of small, round, tightly compacted balls of solid smoke, which you begin to launch in the man’s direction one by one.

Once they get close enough, you rig the makeshift shadow grenades to explode, and the force of the molecules rapidly separating creates a series of loud booms that shake the ground.

As the smoke begins to clear, Scar lunges from the shadows, his tattooed arm outstretched toward the two of you. Grabbing Ed’s sleeve, you turn around and run, dragging him behind you, but there’s not very far to go; the end of the alley looms up in front of you, and you curse at the dead end. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the man getting closer, and you turn back to the wall desperately.

Gritting your teeth, you grab onto an exposed metal pipe and begin climbing. “Hurry up!” you shout to Ed down below. 

The blonde boy jumps onto the pipe behind you and the two of you start to climb. Just before you’re about to pull yourself over the edge of the wall, though, Scar reaches the base of the pipe and slashes at it with his hand, letting out a burst of alchemy. As he shatters the base of the pipe, your combined weight toward the top causes the rod to tip backward, and you reach out uselessly with one hand as the air rushes around you.

Scar waits down below, flexing his fingers in preparation for your demise. Before you can hit the ground, however, you hear a burst of alchemy and your fall is cut short. Blinking, you see Al nearby, who has transmuted a huge stone hand emerging from the ground, palm-up, to catch you and the boy at your side.

“Come on, you guys,” he says urgently as Scar turns to face him. “We need to get out of here!”

Ed claps his hands and transmutes one of the hand’s fingers into a bridge, and the two of you dash over Scar’s head to meet up with Al. Together, the three of you make a mad dash for the mouth of the alley, where you break out onto the edge of the larger lane it leads to.

Panting for breath, you look up at the rooftops above, but Ling still hasn’t fired the signal flare. You wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and you hear Scar’s pounding footsteps behind you. We need more time!

It seems Al has the same thought, because he stops, turning to face the man behind him with his hand out in a halt. “Scar!” he demands of the man, who pauses to listen to what the boy has to say. “You say that you believe alchemists have defied God; isn't that hypocritical? You use alchemy just like we do!”

The man turns his red eyed gaze onto the armored boy. “I explained it when we met in East City,” he growls. “It’s balance. Where there are creators, there must be a destroyer.”

“That’s a lie!” you spit at him, and he turns to face you. Nina’s chimeric face flashes behind your eye, and you cringe at the memory, glaring at her killer before you. “You killed Nina Tucker—an innocent girl! You’re using the name of your god to justify murder!”

“An innocent girl?” repeats the man, and the hair on the back of your neck prickles. “That thing was no girl. Alchemy created that tragic creature, and that’s the ‘science’ that you would spend your lives following?” He scowls. “That chimera was made because a man thought he could Create, when Creation is the province of God alone!”

“Maybe you’re right,” spits Ed, wiping blood from where it trickles into his eye. “But why did you have to kill her? You stole what little life she had left!”

Scar’s eyes darken, and his glare deepens. “Foolish as you are,” he growls, “you must still have known that that chimera could never return to her human state.” His words cause the three of you to balk. “It would have lived out its life as a laboratory specimen; treated as a test subject, but never again as a human being.”

His words are bleak, and they trigger a visceral reaction in you. Clenching your fists, thoughts run unbidden through your mind. He’s right. 

You can’t stop the words flowing through you. He’s right; we did know. We knew that she’d be shipped off somewhere, to live in a lab! We just didn’t want to think about it! We knew that, and we did nothing!

But what could we have done? pipes up another corner of your mind, trying to come to terms with the awful thought. Taken her with us? Dragged her along with us across the country, getting in and out of fights? We had to leave her—we had no other choice!

It doesn’t matter! the first part argues back. We’re supposed to be the good guys, the heroes—she called you ‘Big Sis’! It was your job to make sure she was safe and you failed!

“It’s true: State Alchemists have made some serious mistakes,” admits Ed, his lips pulling back in a grimace, pulling you from your reverie. “But that doesn’t make what you’re doing right, and we can’t let you continue!”

“You think you’re so self-righteous,” you continue, sneering. “And you say you serve God. Do you remember two doctors in Ishval who went by the name of Rockbell?” The man draws back at the name, and you push forward, the words flowing out of you angrily. “The government gave the order to end the Ishvalan uprising and exterminate all of its citizens, but that didn’t stop them! They stayed there in an active warzone, leaving their young daughter behind all alone at home, to help save Ishvalan lives!” Your fist clenches in front of you as rage burns behind your eye. “You’re going to tell me you don’t remember them? They saved your life too, and you killed them! How could you?” You slash your arm through the air. “Doctors!” you emphasize. “Only there to aid the enemy! How can you justify that?! How does that serve your god?”

Your words seem to trigger some sort of internal struggle inside the man, and you can see his gaze flickering as thoughts appear to barrage him. You decide to push further. “We’re friends with their daughter,” you tell him, and he looks at you, seeming stricken. “We lived together after we lost our mother; we grew up together. Her name is Winry. She’s an automail mechanic, and she’s one of my closest friends.” You tell the man these facts, anything you can think of that might soften his heart; every second he hesitates is another second to catch your breath and wait for a signal.

He clenches his jaw, his fists tightening by his side, his knuckles going white. “Those doctors—” he growls through clenched teeth, “—were an accident. I never meant to—!”

Your eye flashes. “How?” you demand, heart throbbing in your chest as you think about your friend, about the tears that would fill her face when you’re forced to tell her that you’ve found her parents’ killer. “How could murder have possibly been an accident?!”

His eyes are shadowed, head lowering slightly, memories seeming to flit behind his vision. His hands tighten further, beginning to tremble slightly by his side.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes harden, and his face goes cold. In an instant, before you can react, he’s lunging at you, arm outstretched, and you only have time to breathe in sharply before—

—before Ed is in front of you, shoving you behind him roughly as he blocks you from the man’s blow, shielding you with his own body, and the scent of him fills your nostrils at the proximity.

Scar stops, frozen on the spot. He takes the two of you in—Ed, his back to your chest, arm outstretched to shield you from attack, eyes staring up at the man defiantly; your hands had come up to grip the fabric of his shoulders tightly in both fists, fear for your friend filling your face, concerned only for his well being and not your own.

The man looks like he’s seen a ghost, his arm still outstretched, and he takes a step back. 

Al takes advantage of his distraction and wings a blow toward him, and the Ishvalan seems to snap back into himself, dodging with a jump backwards. Your brother presses the advantage, clapping his gauntlets to the ground and destabilizing the ground beneath the man’s feet, throwing him into the air.

He leaps with the momentum, flipping backward to land in the distance, where he takes off running, and the three of you give chase.

※※※

Lan Fan’s vision is blurry. Her head pounds, swimming, hearing muffled as if her ears have been stuffed with cotton. Every step her Master takes jostles her, and the pain is a constant stab. 

She knows that the dark haired homunculus is after them, his chase relentless. He must be tracking my blood trail, she thinks to herself, watching her arms dangle before her over the prince’s back. She’s unable to feel her left arm at all, which flops limply, swinging unnaturally as he runs. Sweat beads down her face as she grits her teeth through the pain, trying to focus her vision. 

“What happened to me?” she mumbles, her head foggy. “My arm!” She grips her numb shoulder in her hand, watching her arm sway limply below her. “I’m useless to you now!”

He pants loudly, still running. “What are you talking about?”

“You cannot burden yourself with me!” she insists, trying to twist to see him better. “If you do, they will only get you, too! ‘A king is no king without his people, but a people without their king is lost as well!’ You can’t do that to them!” She tries her best to reason with him. “My lord, think of our clan! Live for their sake!”

She can feel him shake his head. “I won’t leave you!” he insists, gripping her tighter to his shoulder.

She knits her brow together. If he won’t leave her, then she has to do the best she can to keep him safe, despite her uselessness now. “Sometimes,” she murmurs to herself, “someone has to get left behind.” Sweating nervously, she pulls her cloth mask up to her mouth, clamping down on it with her teeth. “For the greater good!” she mumbles, the fabric muffling her words. In a flash, she pulls out a kunai from her sleeve, looping it over her finger in a flash of steel, and stabs the blade into herself.

※※※

You give chase to Scar throughout the city, exchanging blows and bouts of destructive alchemy, leaving destruction in your wake. You fight your way out of the walls of the city, ending up in a rail yard just outside Central.

Suddenly, a voice rings out through the air. “Oh, I finally found you! Goodie!” An enormously fat man crashes to the ground behind Scar in a blast of dirt and dust, and he licks his lips, his mouth opening far too wide.

Scar turns to look at the man, sweating nervously. “You again!” he shouts.

You point your hand out. “Look at his tongue!” you cry out. “That guy’s a homunculus!”

Moving faster than should be possible for a man of his size, he leaps off the ground on all fours, launching himself toward the Ishvalan before you; his jaw unhinges, his fat tongue flapping through the air like a dog’s.

Scar anticipates his attack and places his hands on the homunculus, redirecting his momentum and slamming him to the floor. There is a blast of alchemy as he transmutes the creatures insides, and it coughs up a mouthful of blood, the red stuff seeping out of every hole on his face. The fat man groans in pain for a moment before he turns to face Scar, smiling up at him before slamming into him with a headbutt. 

Scar goes crashing to a nearby shipping container, denting its surface with the force of his impact. The homunculus follows after him, throwing his body against the man and crushing him further.

He bounces back from the force, doing a little spin with the momentum, and takes a moment to righten his stance, about to ram the man with his body again, a smile still plastered across his fat face.

Before he can, though, you and the boys launch yourselves into the fray, using a blast of your combined alchemy to send the homunculus sailing backward.

Suddenly, Ling Yao bursts his way out of a nearby sewer grate, shirtless, his sword clenched between his teeth, manhole cover going flying. He sails high into the air before landing on the monster’s shoulders, where he shoves something deep down the man’s throat with one hand. He pulls his sword from his mouth, riding the flailing man like a bull, and turns to shout at group of you over his shoulder. “Go!” he hollers; “Move it!”

He leaps off the man’s shoulders, landing gracefully beside you and the boys. The fat man makes a funny face, and then explodes in a flash of red pulp and viscera. 

“Get me some strong cable!” Ling shouts at the bunch of you as you watch the homunculus’ blood begin to climb up his body, reforming his shape even as you watch.

Ed is on it, running over to a nearby train track and transmuting the rail into long, thick metal coils, which he passes to Ling.

The Xingese teen grabs the cordage and begins to wind it tightly around the homunculus’ still-reforming body, wrapping the bindings tightly around him. “Your own healing ability is working against you,” he gasps, pulling the cables as tight as he can. “Your flesh won’t stop expanding; it’ll keep you tied up nice and tight! You’re mine, homunculus!”

Already, the creature is nearly whole again, although his body is compressed and contorted beneath the bindings; he lets out muffled whimpers and cries, his eyes bulging out of his head.

Suddenly, you hear the rev of an engine and a shot rings out through the air; Scar cries out in pain. Riza Hawkeye comes fishtailing around a nearby parked train in a blue convertible, her blonde hair flying around her face as she points her gun at Scar, who is now bleeding from a bullet wound on the side of his knee.

She drifts the car to a halt right in front of your group, and she points to the backseat of her car. “Put him in,” she commands, as you and the boys blink up at her in surprise. “We’re getting out of here!”

Ling hoists the bound, writhing ball of flesh into the woman’s backseat, stumbling under its weight, before leaping in on top. You hardly have a moment to think as she steps on the gas, tires revving in place for a moment. 

“Wait,” Ed cries out, “Lieut—!” but she cuts him off with a finger to her lips before speeding away.

“Hold on!” you call after her. “What’s going on?!” 

Ed stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “Just wait,” he tells you quietly as you hear a large number of footsteps rapidly approaching behind you. “The MPs are watching; just pretend we don’t know her!”

Behind you, the soldiers march forward. “After them!” one shouts. 

“They’re getting away!” says another.

Ed continues quietly. “The Colonel might be a creep and a jerk, but at least we can trust him. We have something else to do right now,” he finishes, and you all turn your attention to Scar, who is supporting himself on a nearby freight train.

The three of you stand together, ready to start the fight anew, when suddenly Al goes crashing to the side from an unseen blow, a cloud of dust rising around him. When it settles, you see him lying on his back on the concrete, a tiny girl in pink robes standing on his chest.

She looks up at you and Ed, her eyes burning, and then she jumps into the air, doing a flip before landing between the two of you. With a quick flash of her hands, she jabs them into you and Ed rapidly; your muscles give out beneath you involuntarily as she targets your pressure points.

As you and Ed collapse into a limp puddle by Al’s side, the tiny girl flips backward through the air, coming to land at Scar’s side in a battle-ready stance.

“Are these two giving you trouble, Servant?” she asks the Ishvalan as you twitch on the ground, her voice high and sweet like candy. She points her finger at you and the boys, furrowing her brow at you angrily. “This is the servant of the man who saved my life; you better leave him alone!” 

A group of soldiers, armed with guns, run to surround you and your opponents, aiming their weapons at the ready. “Where’d that kid come from?” you hear one of them ask, and another calls out, “Get away from him, girl! It’s dangerous!”

The tiny girl, hardly even coming up to Scar’s waist, stands in front of him and holds her arm out protectively. “They’ve got us outnumbered,” she warns him, and flexes her wrists, short kunai appearing from her sleeves to rest between each finger. With a flick, she launches them into the surface of a few nearby train cars, where they stick in a circular pattern. With her toe, she scrawls another quick circle into the dirt at her feet, etching a star into it before stabbing a kunai into each point in one quick motion. She kneels and presses one hand to the hasty transmutation circle and blue light rises from the marking, illuminating her young face from below.

A star forms in the circles of knives on the train cars, and they explode with a deafening boom, smoke filling the air, burning your eye and filling your lungs. You cough, pulling your shirt up to block your mouth and nose, and squeeze your stinging eye shut against the debris. 

You hear Ed hacking behind you. “What kind of alchemy was that?” he chokes out.

“She did it from that far away?” continues Al, the only one unphased by the smoke and dust that fills the air.

Smokescreens are your specialty, but you have no control over this one, only being able to manipulate dust particles once you’ve transmuted them yourself.

You hear two pairs of receding footsteps, and when the smoke finally clears, Scar and the girl are gone.

※※※

“Look what I found, you guys!”

The palm-sized panda looks up at Al with fear on its face as he hold it gently between his empty gauntlets. 

You and Ed peer at the tiny creature in confusion, squeezed in the backseat of the car next to Al, your bodies pressed tightly together.

You look up at the boy’s armored face and sigh. “Al, we’ve talked about this,” you remind him gently. “We can’t adopt any pets, remember? We’re always on the move, we don’t have the attention or the space for one.”

He looks at you with puppy dog eyes. “But I couldn’t just leave her all alone in that mess back there!”

Ed explodes. “First stray cats and now a tiny panda?” he demands. “Just how many animals can you stuff into that armor of yours, huh? Get rid of it!”

※※※

But he doesn’t get rid of it. In fact, the boy pitches such a fit that eventually the two of you give in, allowing him to keep the panda, but only temporarily. A tiny band around the creature’s ankle reads “Xiao Mei: if lost, please return to Mei Chang”, but there is no other contact information. The two of you agree to let him hold onto the creature only until you’re able to locate her owner, at which point he is to return her.

For now, though, he’s dragged you both with him to the pet store to buy supplies. He pushes a shopping cart ahead of him through the aisles, the object comically small compared to his large body. Already in the cart is a number of items, ranging from a tiny pet bed to a kitty climbing tree. He stand in front of the toy section, eyeing the colorful assortment before him with an appraising eye.

“Looks like they’re fresh out of panda toys,” you say with a dry smile, gesturing towards the shelves. “Guess she’ll have to make do with cat toys instead!”

He looks at the shelves doubtfully. “Are you sure she’ll like these?” he worries aloud. “Maybe we should’ve gone to the exotic pet shop in the Southern Sector…”

Ed scowls. “C’mon, Al, don’t spoil the little thing,” he warns. “Or else it’ll start misbehaving!”

You pick up a feather on a string, attached to a stick. You flick it through the air a few times, testing it out, and the little creature’s eyes follow it as it floats through the air.

You point it out with your other hand and laugh. “Look, I think she likes this one!”

You hand the toy to Al, where he dangles it in front of Xiao May, and she bats at it with her tiny paws, bearing her teeth in what she probably thinks is a ferocious snarl.

Turning back to Ed, you nudge him in the ribs. “Cheer up,” you urge him, picking up another toy off the shelf. “This is kinda fun. We’ve never had a pet before!”

He rolls his eyes at you, denying your offer of the toy as you try to hand it to him to examine. “What’s the point in buying all this stuff if we’re just going to get rid of the thing soon anyway?” he grumbles. “What if we find the owner tomorrow, and all of it goes to waste?”

You chuck the toy into your cart and turn back to the shelf. “It’s not like we don’t have the money to spare,” you point out to him, and he tilts his head in acknowledgment. “And what if we don’t find her for a month? Is Xiao Mei supposed to starve until then?”

He purses his lips, putting one hand on his hip. “I guess you do have a point,” he pouts. “Besides, I guess she is kinda cute…”

Al puts a few more toys in the cart with a smile on his face. “That’s the spirit, Ed!” he cheers, and begins walking to the treat section. “C’mon, you guys!” he urges, placing Xiao Mei on his shoulder so that he can use both hands to steer the cart. “Let’s go see if they have any bamboo flavored treats!”

※※※

Lan Fan’s screams of agony are muffled by the cloth-wrapped leather strip clamped between her teeth, and the sound makes your hair stand on end. The doctor operates on her severed shoulder, and she writhes on the table, thrashing against her bonds. Hawkeye stands by the bedside, holding the girl’s hand and helping wipe the blood from the operating site so he can see what he’s doing.

“You let her walk around the sewers with her arm cut off?” he scolds Ling, pouring alcohol over the wound, and tears stream from the girls eyes. “Don’t blame me if she gets lockjaw!” 

He continues to work at the wound, grimacing. “The only patients I’ve had lately have been corpses,” he warns, “so this might be a little rough.”

Ling crouches nearby, and Ed looks down at him, rubbing his bandaged head awkwardly, his flesh arm bound in a hasty splint. “Ling, I’m s—”

“No, don’t apologize,” the dark haired teen cuts him off, his shoulders tense as he listens to his companion’s screams. “I’m the one who suggested it, remember? We both had something to gain from it, so it made sense.” He brings one knee up to his chest, curling in on himself. “When I went searching for immortality, I knew I must be ready to make certain sacrifices. But I…” He clenches his fist, his voice shaking. “I wasn’t ready for this.” He shakes his head, his face dark. “Lan Fan was, though. She made the decision I was too weak to make.”

※※※

After a little while, Lan Fan blinks awake with a groan. She squints at the bright light above before her eyes come to focus on you and the boys, sitting at her bedside. The others are gathered nearby, except for Ling, who’d gone off somewhere to be by himself, saying he’d needed time to think.

You lean forward and gently mop the sweat off the girl’s brow with a rag. “Good morning,” you greet her, smiling gently. “How are you feeling?”

She gives you a weak, watery smile, grimacing her teeth through her words. “I’ve been worse,” she croaks. “But I’m useless without my arm.” She cuts her gaze meaningfully between you and the blonde boy at your side. “I’m going to need a replacement,” she tells you, and you feel your shoulder prickling where skin meets automail.

Ed clenches his metal fist before himself, glancing down at the limb with a small grin. “We can introduce you to a great engineer!” he promises her, and you smile along with him.

※※※

You, Ed, and Al follow Mustang out into the hallway once Lan Fan falls back into a fitful sleep. He’s standing by Ling’s side, staring at the tightly bound ball of flesh that is Gluttony. His lantern light illuminates the dark room, and the homunculus whimpers and moans as he twitches against his binds.

The doctor pokes his head around the corner, taking in your prisoner. “Hmm, what do we have here?” he remarks curiously, and Mustang hold the light up higher, fully illuminating the creature.

“That’s Gluttony,” Ling says coolly, crossing his arms. “He’s a homunculus.”

The doctor makes a choked noise, and Mustang lets out a grim nod. “He and his friends appear to have connections among some of the senior military staff,” he continues.

“Just some, you say?” Ling says incredulously, turning to face the Colonel. “It goes far deeper than that!” You and Mustang turn to face him, surprised. “Your Führer King Bradly? I believe it’s possible that he’s a homunculus, too.”

His words are like a live wire dropped in your midst, shocking each of you. “I saw his eye,” continues Ling, pointing at his own to make a point. “The one under the patch had an ouroboros tattoo! He and Gluttony came after us, and they were working together!”

You shake your head, not wanting to believe it. “I can’t believe it,” you mutter, and you hear the boys echoing your sentiments by your side. “The Führer himself, a homunculus?”

Ling’s face is dark, his gaze cast to the floor. “Although,” he says slowly, as if still thinking it out; “He doesn't have the same sort of inhuman presence that you get from Gluttony. At his core, he still feels like a regular person.”

“Another thing,” points out Al, causing you and Ed to look up at him in surprise. “If the Führer is a homunculus, how can he possibly have a son? It said in that book that the homunculi have no reproductive abilities!” 

The doctor places his hand on his chin, looking concerned. “The Führer’s son, Selim, is adopted. There’s no direct blood relation between him and his father.”

You take a moment to consider all of the different possibilities this revelation reveals, head spinning with questions. Then, Mustang clenches his fist in determination, face sliding into a dark smirk. “Whether he’s monster or human,” he says firmly, casting his gaze around the group of you; “Either way, these new developments will make it easier to remove him from the seat of power!” He casts his gaze onto the gyrating, whimpering ball of flesh in the center of the room. “First, we get information out of this one,” he continues, “and I’ll take his Stone; it might prove useful in treating my injured ally.” 

You jerk your chin up, ready to argue that you and the boys have been looking for way longer, but Ling beats you to the punch. He steps forward and grabs the man angrily by his lapels. “Hey you!” he growls at your superior officer, anger scrawled across his foreign features. “Lan Fan lost her arm to get him! We’re taking him back to Xing!”

“No way!” you and Ed cry out simultaneously, and begin arguing at the same time, your voices blending and mixing over each other.

“That Stone is ours!”

“Do you even know how long we’ve—?”

“—and after everything we’ve been through—!”

“—you already know that we—!” 

Ling and Mustang begin arguing over you, the former still shaking the latter by his shoulders.

Behind you, you can hear the doctor sigh, delivering some parting words that you can’t make out over all the arguing. Ed has wedged his way between the Colonel and Ling, trying to push them apart.

You are the first to notice the bundle of flesh on the floor begin to pulsate violently. “Uhhh, guys?” you say cautiously, pulling at shirt sleeves around you without taking your eye off the homunculus, who is straining heavily against the thick metal cordage that is binding him.

As you hear the arguing cease around you, everybody turns to face Gluttony, who is releasing strained grunting noises as his body begins to inflate like a balloon. His flesh bulges, straining against his bindings, the skin going both taut white and flushed red. “Mustang was the one who killed Lust!” he murmurs to himself angrily, gritting his teeth against the metal. “Mustang must pay for what he did to her!”

“ROY MUSTANG!!!” he screams in fury, breaking free from his binds and hoisting himself into an upright position as his body continues to contort and grow. You watch in horror as a line slowly slides its way up the creature’s belly, and the sight reminds you of the Eye of Truth you’d summoned at the gate all those years ago.

You take a step back and bump into Al’s hard, metal chest behind you; his hand comes up to grip your shoulder. Then, before your all of your horrified eyes, the slit slides opens into a mouth, its opening vertical, brimming with huge, curved fangs. That very same Eye blinks open from the yawning blackness inside the maw.

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.” 

—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

Envy smirks in satisfaction to himself, wiping meat juice from his hands with a rag as he exits Doctor Marcoh’s cell. He finds toying with humans to be so satisfying, and Marcoh is just as weak and spineless as all the rest. To think, he’d really doom the entire country just to save his beloved townsfolk back at home—not even realizing that they would be swept up in the slaughter as well, promises for their safety be damned!

He chuckles to himself as he thinks about it, stalking down the halls of the tunnels that Sloth had dug deep below Central. He’s fed the prisoner and done all of his other necessary tasks for the day, and now he has time for his new favorite hobby!

He’s been watching the human girl for months now. Considering she was merely a human, he found her oddly fascinating, though he couldn’t quite place his finger on why. She was much like the rest of the humans he hated so much—she was weak, just like the others, letting her emotions control her in the way he found so disgusting, and yet… she was different somehow.

She was nothing like him, but when he looked at her, it’s like he was seeing a piece of himself, and it drives him wild. He can’t understand what he’s recognizing in a pathetic human like her, but he feels the familiarity all the same.

It’s disgusting, absolutely revolting to even imagine her comparing to him, and he needs to prove to himself that she’s no different than any other humans, her quirks be damned.

And yet…

And yet he’d seen thousands of hateful humans—had killed hundreds of them himself—but he’d never seen anybody hate like her. She didn’t hate outward, though, it was herself that she hated, and Envy found that wildly interesting. 

It puzzled him. Humans were supposed to be simple creatures, focused primarily on self-preservation, but she actively destroys herself, injuring herself in a way that he’d never seen before.

Well, from a human, anyway.

She’s like a new toy that he can’t get enough of—he wants to test its limits, see how far he can bend it before it breaks.

Yes, she was so much like those other disgusting humans—worse than many of them, in some ways—and yet the things that she said when she thought she was alone, the things that she did…

It makes him think about…

He shakes the thought from his head and stretches his arms behind his back. He readies himself to change forms, but a voice interrupts him. 

Envy, it whispers at him, the young, sibilating voice echoing from the shadows around him, surrounding him on every side. You really shouldn’t play with your food. Didn’t Father teach you better than that?

“Tch,” Envy scoffs, placing a hand on his hip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pride. Just off to have a little fun; maybe you should try it some time!”

The older homunculus ignores his jab, his childlike voice bouncing in the shadows of the hallway. You’re supposed to be watching the three from a distance, it scolds him, not playing with the girl like she’s your own personal toy. I’ve heard that you’ve been making yourself known to her. Care to explain yourself?

Envy rolls his eyes, bristling. “Get off my back, would ya?” he groans, rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation. “I’m always in disguise when I see the puny thing; it’s not like she knows that it’s me. Besides, like I said, it’s just a little harmless fun! I like to press her buttons a little, that’s all.”

Pride lets out an unamused hum. If you’d rather “press buttons” than do your job right, then maybe I should tell Father to have you replaced…?

Envy can feel the hairs prickle on the back of his neck as the threat lands home, but he forces a cool look onto his face, shining his fingernails on his shirt absently. “Tch,” he scoffs again, fighting the urge to make a rude gesture where the shadows can see him. “You’re such a killjoy.”

Maybe so, the boy agrees, but it’s my job to keep you fools in line, and I can’t exactly do that if you’re busy traipsing around with our sacrificial candidates!

Envy groans, tossing his head back in frustration. Father only trusts you so much because you’re the oldest, he thinks to himself angrily, sneering at the boy internally. What do you have that I don’t? I’ve been nothing but loyal my whole existence! I’ve killed thousands for him, I’ve tortured hundreds, I even started a war! It should be me by Father’s side, not you!

“Alright, alright already!” he scowls, waving his hands in a shooing motion towards the crawling shadows. “I get the point—keep my distance, I’ve got it. Do I have your permission to leave now, your royal highness?” His words are bitter, sarcastic, and Pride does not respond. The shadows begin to recede, though, as he loosens his shadowy grip over the area.

He stalks off down the corridor again, repeating Pride’s words to himself in a pitchy, mocking voice. “You’re traipsing around with the enemy, ” he sneers, imitating the boy’s young voice. “Such bullshit. I just need to know that she’s nothing special before we sacrifice her, that’s all.”

※※※

The mouth on Gluttony’s stomach opens up, splitting the creature open from mouth to groin, and a sonic boom rings through the air, blasting your hair back in a gust of wind. 

In front of the monster, where the wall had just been, there was now nothing, a massive scar marring the ground where a huge chunk of dirt now simply ceased to be.

“Colonel!” you hear Hawkeye shout from outside, and her running footsteps begin to approach. “What’s going on?” 

“Hawkeye, stop!” Mustang commands, and another BOOM shakes the ground.

Another BOOM rips over your eardrums, and this time, your hair isn't the only thing that’s blown back, as the ceiling collapses on you and the others nearby.

Al rises to his feet, pushing the planks off of your group, who are bruised and toppled over from the blast.

Xiao Mei had fallen from the gap in Al’s armor, and is currently clinging to Mustang’s face with all of her might. “Lieutenant!” he shouts, his voice muffled by the tiny panda’s body before he reaches up to drag the creature away from his head, tossing it over his shoulder back at the boy. “Don’t provoke him!” he continues. “I’m the one he wants!”

You see Hawkeye standing square in the middle of the blast radius, pointing her pistol at the monster looming in the shadows of the doorway. Her shotgun lies abandoned on the ground behind her, seemingly cut in half in an earlier blast.

With a roar of fury, the monstrous beast turns toward the dark haired Colonel. “MUSTANG! ” he roars in fury, and lets off another blast from his maw.

Your group scrambles to avoid the blast, and you scramble out from beneath the rubble.

Crouched on the ground nearby, panting for breath with the boys at your side, you peer up at the creature, gazing in horror at its monstrous form. His tongue waggles in the hole at the front of his body which nearly bisects him in half. Long, curved fangs line the mouth on all sides; many look long enough to seem more like exposed ribs, all of which glisten with saliva.

Can alchemy can really create a monster so horrible? you wonder to yourself grimly, though you already know the answer.

Mustang yanks off his dress gloves with his teeth, sliding his emblazoned pair onto his hands. “Let’s go,” he growls. “We have to bring him down!”

“But we worked so hard to capture one of the homunculi!” protests Al, Xiao Mei riding on his shoulder.

“Survival is our first priority,” explains the Colonel, sliding his fingers into place inside the silk gloves. “Besides, he knows our names and faces now. It would be foolish to let him leave here alive!” With his last words, he snaps his fingers, jettisoning a blast of fire toward the monster still lurking in the ruined building.

You can hear the beast wailing for a moment, and then the path of the flames seems to shift, beginning to swirl into the creature’s stomach like water spiraling down a drain. In a matter of seconds, Mustang’s fire is completely gone, swallowed up by the homunculus, who lets out a smoky belch.

“He… swallowed it…” Mustang grunts slowly, and then turns around and starts booking it toward the treeline. With a shout, you and the boys start running after him.

“Hey, that worked well!” yells Ed sarcastically to the Colonel, who pumps his arms through the air as he sprints. 

“If you can do better,” the man yells back, “then be my guest!”

“Or we could just leave you behind, Colonel!” Al offers, leading the mad dash through the woods. “You’re the one he really wants!”

Mustang grits his teeth, considering the boy’s words. “Alright,” he agrees gruffly; “Split up!”

You all spread out in different directions, and you stumble your way through the brush. The soles of your boots thud heavily on the earth beneath you, and your heart pounds in your ears, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

You can hear Mustang shouting, more BOOMs and shots being fired in the distance, and you slow down a little to catch your breath. You hear the crack of a twig snapping behind you and you whirl around, just barely catching the sight of a black shadow as it slinks away out of the corner of your eye.

※※※

Eventually, you are all able to circle back around to the car, where Doctor Knox sits behind the wheel. Mustang and Hawkeye had set up some kind of decoy in the woods, and it seems like Gluttony fell for it.

Mustang leans heavily against Hawkeye’s side, blood seeping through his shirt from the wound he’d gotten from Lust just recently. You help the boys push him bodily into the front seat of the car. “Get in, you cripple,” you tease him, and he slumps over in his seat with a grimace. “Make sure Lan Fan stays safe.”

Mustang turns, trying to climb back out of the car. “You expect me to run away and leave this to you kids?”

You plant one finger against his forehead, firmly pushing him back into his seat. “Get back in the car!” you demand firmly, and Ed and Al pipe up behind you. 

“If you stay, you’d just get in our way!”

“Yeah, leave!”

Hawkeye turns her firm brown gaze on the Colonel. “They’re right”, she tells him. “You won’t be of any use here; sorry.”

At her words in particular, he looks destitute, his head falling forward in defeat.

Ed rolls his eyes at the man. “Right now, you need to go do your job, ” he says, further trying to convince the stubborn Colonel to leave. “The head of the military is a homunculus—don’t you think you should do something about that?”

Hawkeye furrows her brow, climbing into the back seat next to a heavily-bandaged Lan Fan, who is pale and sweaty; she shifts the girl so she’s lying with her head in the blonde woman’s lap. “The head of the military?” she repeats in disbelief. “You aren’t talking about Führer Bradley, are you?!”

“We can talk about it later!” the Doctor cuts in, jerking his chin toward you, the boys, and Ling. “For now, get in!”

The four of you exchange a glance, and it’s clear you’re all on the same page. 

Ed stuffs his hands in his pockets. “The car looks full,” he says casually, smiling, and it’s not even a lie. “You guys go ahead.”

The adults in the car look back at you and the others, aghast. 

“You dumbasses!” Doctor Knox shouts, and Hawkeye shakes her head from the backseat.

“You can’t really believe we’ll let a couple of children fight this battle for us!” she says.

“With the senior staff involved in this, you’re gonna need all help you can get,” Ling points out, smiling confidently. 

“And that would include getting whatever information we can out of this ‘Gluttony’ guy, wouldn’t you say?” continues Ed, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the woods behind you.

“Besides, I think we’ve already shown off enough that we’re pretty capable,” you say, hands on your hips. “It doesn’t matter that we’re children—we’re just as tough as any adult!” The others at your side all nod their agreement.

“This was our mission to begin with,” points out Ed. “And we’re going to see it through to the end!”

“We really appreciate all of your help up until now, though!” Your words are sincere. “But we can handle it from here.”

Hawkeye pulls out her pistol and reloads it, then presents it out the window for you to take. “Echo,” she says solemnly, her brown gaze boring into yours. “I know you want to protect your boys, so I want you to take this. You do know how to use it, don’t you?”

You hesitate. “I do, but…”

“That’s a weapon,” Al says gravely, Xiao Mei looking on from his shoulder. “For killing people!”

“Yes,” agrees Hawkeye, her gaze still locked on yours. “But it’s also a weapon for protecting your lives.”

You glance at Ed over your shoulder, but he looks just as torn as you feel. You look at Al, who is staring down at his feet. Then you look back at Hawkeye, and you feel your own gaze harden.

She’s right—I do want to protect them. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

You reach out and take the gun, which is heavy in your hand; Hawkeye lets out a single, slow, approving nod.

You’re a lot a like, you realize, you and Hawkeye; you both have somebody in your lives that matter more to you than yourself.

You open your mouth to speak, but another huge blast in the woods behind you captures everybody’s attention.

You tuck the gun into your waistband at the small of your back. Then you, the boys, and Ling all exchange another determined glance, and dash off together.

You can feel your elders’ gazes on your back as you go, and you can only hope that they’re wishing you luck. 

※※※

You, Ling, and the boys sit crouched in the bough of a tree, watching the monster thrash and rage in the clearing nearby. “Mustang,” it pants wetly, its massive mouth dripping in drool, eyes burning red in the darkness. “Where are you, Mustang? You killed Lust! You will PAY!!” Gluttony throws himself into another bout of rage at the last word, stomping his feet and flailing his limbs around in fury.

“I know we said we’d stay and all,” Ed balks, “but that’s seriously freaky!”

You shudder. “Too many teeth,” you agree.

“He seems to be a bit angry,” Ling points out helpfully, and Al places Xiao Mei safely behind his face plate.

“How are we supposed to catch him?” the armored boy asks.

Before you can formulate a suggestion, you hear a rustling in the brush behind you and you whirl around; Ling is faster than all of you, his sword already pointed ahead of him determinedly.

There, on a rocky hill just ahead stands a large, lean black dog.

“A dog?” you wonder aloud, surprised, and take a moment to examine the creature’s ominous red eyes, which reflect the light of the moon at you like twin mirrors.

Then. much to your horror, the dog’s mouth opens and a human voice pours from its thin black lips. “Gluttony!” it yells, struggling to be heard over the crashing of the homunculus behind you. “Stop it, now!”

In the clearing, the monster comes to a halt.

Ed sweats nervously at your side, taking a small step back. “A talking dog?!” he exclaims.

The creature looks down at your group, seeming to stare straight into your eye. “Ruh-roh!” it smirks, the expression on its canine face disturbingly human as he quotes some old-timey cartoon dog at you. “Hey you two—long time, no see!"

You don’t have time to puzzle over the words—obviously, you’ve never seen a talking dog before, much less one that quotes classic children’s comic characters at you. The dog lights up in a blast of red, crackling light, and its body begins to contort.

The sparks travel up the dog’s limbs, leaving human hands and feet in their wake. They travel upwards, and when the transformation is complete, Envy the homunculus smirks down at you and the others. “How are you, Chibi-chan? And Fullmetal Pipsqueak, greetings to you too!”

You and Ed both fly into a rage at the nicknames, and Ed actually throws himself at the teen homunculus, screaming in protest as he launches himself into a flying kick. “Don’t call me that! ” he rages, but the other boy simply dodges backward, throwing his hands out in the air before him.

“Hey, calm down!” he shouts, waving his hands, trying to placate Ed’s rage. “I’m just here to get Gluttony back—nothing more than that! I don’t want to fight you, Pipsqueak—!”

“That’s four now!” screams Ed, launching another attack at the green-haired homunculus, who dodges again, leaping backward through the air. 

“What’s that now?”

“That’s four times! You called me ‘Pipsqueak’ twice now, and twice back at the Laboratory!” He clenches his fist in front of himself, and you sigh, stalking over to the boy and grabbing him by the shirt sleeve, dragging him back over to rejoin your little group, since apparently Envy has no interest in fighting you.

Envy rolls his eyes at the blonde boy beside you. “Impressive,” he deadpans; “You’ve got a short memory, there.” Then he leaps backward, and Gluttony runs the short distance to meet him by his side. He turns to face the fat homunculus. “You’re becoming bothersome!” he scolds, and Gluttony whimpers beneath his sharp gaze.

“Mustang was here!” pants Gluttony, the fangs lining his mouth twisting and rotating with each word. “Must avenge Lust! Swallow, swallow, swallow him up!”

Envy places his hands on his hips, his lean muscles flexing beneath his skin in the moonlight. “You don’t get the Colonel,” he tells the angry beast haughtily, quirking one eyebrow up. “Or the Elric brothers, or the girl either!”

Gluttony begins to blubber a response, but Ling steps around from behind Al, his sword resting casually on his shoulder. “I’ve sensed this multiplicity before,” he says aloud, casting his narrow gaze toward Envy with a small smile. “How many people are inside you, homunculus?”

The green haired boy’s face darkens for a moment, and then he scowls, lifting his arm to lean against Gluttony; the toothy monster comes to kneel beside him as an armrest, still crying about Mustang. “I know you,” he leers at the Xingese teen. “You’re the kid who crossed swords with Wrath, aren’t you?”

Ling lowers his sword in a ready stance, the curved blade pointing upwards in a deadly arc to where the other boy’s heart should be. “What do you mean, kid?” he demands passionately, placing a hand on his chest. “I happen to be the twelfth son of the Emperor of Xing! My name is—!”

Envy interrupts his speech by placing his hand on Gluttony’s bald head. “Eat him!” he commands, and the blubbering beast perks up.

As Ling begins to sprint away, Gluttony chases after him, launching himself through the air like some sort of horrible frog. You eye them warily, not sure whether or not to follow and help.

Meanwhile, Ed elbows you in the side, catching your attention. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“It looks like you were right,” you agree with him, rubbing your chin thoughtfully. “They really can’t do anything to us sacrificial candidates!”

Ed smirks. “You know what that means!” He claps his hands to the ground, transmuting a huge stone wall between Ling and Gluttony; the latter of the two slams face-first into it, his blubbery body bouncing back.

You, Ed, and Al exchange a look, and then you nod in agreement, splitting up on either side of the wall. Ed and Al dash toward Gluttony, and you join Ling to try your luck with Envy.

You and the young prince face off against the lean, androgynous-looking teen, who smirks at you, his hands on his hips. “So, I get to fight with my chibi-chan? How exciting! And you, boy, let’s see how good you are!”

Scowling, you clap your hands to the ground. “I already told you not to call me that!” you growl. Transmuting the earth below your palms, you send out a thin, compressed needle of shadow toward Envy’s head like casting a fishing rod. When he ducks backward out of the way, you rig the line to explode, and the force sends the teen staggering back. 

Ling dashes forward with his sword, but Envy jumps back with a laugh. As the two exchange blows, you send more needling blasts at the homunculus, and you’re able to control the explosions so that you don’t hit your ally.

Envy begins to laugh. “This is exciting!” he cheers, dodging each blow the two of you aim at him. “Hey kid, you really know how to use that thing!”

Ling glowers, coming in for another strike. “Thanks for the complement,” he grunts, and lands his blade in the other teen’s side. “Really!”

“Ha!” Envy exclaims, delighted. “You fell for it!” You blink, and when you open your eye, his arm has transformed into a cobra, wrapping around the Xingese boy’s arm and neck, hissing at the air.

“It’s good, isn't it?” he gloats, watching the teen struggle in his grip. “And you humans can’t do anything like it! So, what’ll it be? Strangled to death? Bitten to death?”

Transmuting more material into your hand, you arrange the atoms into an ax and rush forward, grunting, “How about ‘none of the above’!” You swing the shadowy blade forward, severing the snake-arm from the green haired boy’s body.

The severed snake writhes on the ground for a few moments, struggling weakly before it evaporates in a whirl of dust. Ling lunges forward with his now-freed arm, and Envy isn't able to dodge in time as the dark haired boy slashes his sword across the other’s eyes.

Envy cries out, falling back in pain, pressing the back of his only remaining forearm over his sliced eyeballs. “That was a dirty trick,” he spits, and red sparks envelop him as he begins to heal slowly. “Blinding me—that’s not playing fair!”

Ling scowls, and you fall into place beside him, facing off against the homunculus. “People have been trying to assassinate me since I was a kid! Under the circumstances, you can’t blame a guy for learning to fight dirty!”

“Besides,” you call to him, clapping your hands and pressing them to the ground, where you surround his head and face with a thick layer of swirling smoke. “I can show you blinding!”

Ling begins to step forward toward the homunculus, still on his knees in the dirt, his arm slowly regenerating. Interestingly, you can tell by your misty cloud that the green haired boy does not need to breathe, as you don’t feel the particles stirring with his breath like they normally would be.

“So, have you had enough yet?” Ling challenges, tapping his sword on the top of the homunculus’ head. “Are you going to come with us quietly now? All we want is a little information! Or should we go again?”

Envy grits his teeth, snarling at the Xingese prince. “You scum!” he roars. “A mere human like you could never condescend to me!”

“It seems like you underrate humans!” you cry out, gripping your knives tighter in your hands, ready to spring into action.

Suddenly, Al comes crashing through the wall that separates your two battles in a cloud of dust and rubble. “Al!” you cry out, stepping toward him before pausing, not wanting to turn your back on Envy. Your concentration on his shadowy veil, however, is broken. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” the armored boy calls back, rising to his feet and dusting himself off before throwing himself back through the hole in the wall.

You see movement out of the corner of your eye and you jerk your attention back to the fight at hand. Envy lunges at Ling, quick as a flash, but the boy is even faster, slicing the other teen’s leg clean off at the thigh.

The homunculus falls onto his back in the dirt, and you notice that the groove his body leaves behind is oddly deep, as if his thin body was extremely heavy. Shaking off the thought, you raise your knives and step forward as Ling looms over him, raising his sword to strike down. 

Suddenly, there is a bright flash of red, and the teen’s androgynous features melt into the spitting image of Lan Fan exactly as she was when you’d last seen her, her missing arm bandaged and her big gray eyes looking up at him weak and pleadingly.

Ling falters, and you can see his grip on the sword loosen as he looks down at the wounded girl beneath him.

You rush forward, swinging your knives at the imposter in a glint of shadowy smoke. Laughing, there is another flash of red lightning and then Lan Fan’s features melt away; her jaw widens, limbs shortening, hair turning blonde. The arm that had been cut off finishes forming into a set of automail, and you stare at the image of Edward Elric in front of you.

He looks at you with his wide, golden eyes full of betrayal and fear, and you do not hesitate to slam both knives into his side, ramming them in to the hilt.

The boy hadn’t even made an attempt to block the blow; he was clearly extremely confident that you wouldn’t have the strength to strike out at your friend. 

It was easy for you, though. You would recognize Ed anywhere. You could tell him by scent, by touch, by the way that he breathed and the way that he blinked. You could tell him by the way the air tasted sweeter in your mouth when he was near, by this intangible aura of Ed that this imposter most definitely did not have.

The imposter lies on its back in the dirt and you let go of your knives, leaving them stuck in his side as his features slide back into his own again. He gapes at you like a fish. “You… you actually stabbed me!”

You scowl at him. “Of course I did! Did you really think some shitty little getup like that would trick me?”

He looks like he wants to say more, but he sees Ling by your side readjusting his grip on his sword, beginning to regain his composure. He scowls, gritting his teeth instead. “Gluttony!” he shouts out, and you whip your head toward the hole in the wall. “Do it now!”

Ed and Al burst through the hole, sprinting toward you as fast as they can as Gluttony squeezes his fleshy body through the gap. The older brother leads the charge, and he reaches you first.

You hear Alphonse cry out for you and his brother as Gluttony’s stomach curls inward in preparation for another blast. You feel Envy’s cold hand clamp down on your shoulder, and then Gluttony fires off the blast, and in an instant, you and everyone around you cease to exist in this world.

※※※

Alphonse can feel Xiao Mei squirming around inside his helmet as he tries to process what has just happened. He takes in the deep scar in the earth before him, takes in the lower half of Envy’s body crouched nearby, cut in half cleanly at the waist; he takes in his own missing hand, previously outstretched toward Echo and his brother, both of whom are now just gone.

He watches the severed set of homunculus legs dissolve into a pile of dust, blowing away on the wind, and then he really begins to panic.

“Swallowed… them?” asks Gluttony quietly, seeming confused, and Al rounds on him. He grips the creature by two of its rib-like tusks, slamming him to the ground and shaking him violently.

“Brother! Echo!” he cries out, yelling into the creature’s stomach, but the eye in the center is closed. “Give them back!” He shakes the creature again, and it blinks up at him in wary confusion. “You! Spit them out! Spit them out now!”

The anger has fully faded from the homunculus’ face, and he now just looks confused. “But… I swallowed them!” is all he can seem to say, and the gaping maw on his stomach begins to seal closed with a spark of red crackles.

Al watches in horror as the creature’s stomach fully closes, leaving the homunculus looking the same as when he’d fought with it earlier.

He shakes his head slowly. “No,” he breathes. “Impossible; it can’t be! Brother… Echo…” 

Al slams his hollow fist onto the dirt below him and screams up at the stars above.

※※※

You wake up surrounded by a warm, wet, thick liquid. Your body aches as if you’d just landed here from a great height, and you loll your head, trying to gather yourself.

Your hair is soaked in the viscous stuff and heavy when you lift it, and the excess dribbles slowly from the ends. The smell hits your nostrils, and you know what it is before you even lift your hand to look at the red staining your automail, pooling in the hollows and grooves of the machinery.

You sit up in the blood on the ground, which comes up to your hips while seated. The pool of the stuff stretches as far in every direction as your eye can see, the sky a black, starless abyss above. Strewn about in the darkness are chunks of rubble and other various objects that you can’t identify at a glance.

You grimace at the feeling of the wet liquid beginning to congeal in your hair, and you do your best to wring the it from your just-as-red locks. “What is this place?” you mumble to yourself, rising to your feet. Your entire posterior half is soaked in blood, quickly going cool against your skin, and again, you try your best to clean yourself off.

You look around again, trying to see if you can spot Ed or Al, but you don’t see any signs of life. You call out to them, and your own voice reverberates back at you from the darkness.

You see a small something peeking out from behind a nearby chunk of building, and you trudge your way through the muck at your feet, the red liquid dribbling into your boots and sloshing around your socks. You grimace, rounding the corner to see a skeleton lying half-submerged in the pool of blood.

You stumble back, the thick liquid tripping you up and sending you flat on your rear with a red, metallic splash. “W-what the hell?” you murmur, panic rising in your chest. “Ed? Al?” you call out again, but you already know that nobody is nearby to hear you.

“Where the hell am I?!”

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.” 

—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

Your boots are full of blood. The red liquid soaks into your socks, squelching around your toes. 

You trudge through the sea of it drearily, your leg muscles burning from exhaustion as you slough your way through the viscous stuff, which provides resistance against your persistent gate.

The darkness around is absolute, save for a few pieces of burning debris that litter the landscape. You navigate by using a transmuted smokescreen as a set of sensory feelers, allowing you to map out your surrounding area and avoid obstacles.

You’ve already been walking for hours, continuing straight in the same random direction you’d chosen, hoping to bump into one of your friends.

You don’t know where you are. The last thing you remembered was you, the boys, and Ling fighting against the homunculi, and then…

…and then your memory gets frustratingly fuzzy, and the next thing you knew, you were waking up in an ocean of blood, completely and totally alone.

Fear for the boys is a lead weight in your stomach. Somehow, you’d been separated from them, and you can’t stop all of the worst-case-scenarios from running through your mind.

Dried blood crackles in your long hair as you rake it away from your face, and you cringe at the sensation. You’re used to blood, of course, but this is too much, even for you.

You walk through the muck for an unknowable amount of time. Your pocket-watch has stopped completely, and there is no sun to track in the sky above you, no stars to tell the time.

You continue forward for hours, maybe even days. With a struggle, you are able to transmute small amounts of the blood at your feet into drinkable water, but reconstructive alchemy is difficult for you, and the transmutation fails during many of your attempts.

You’d succeeded in securing water, but food is another story entirely.

Your stomach growls loudly, hunger gnawing its way through your guts, leaving you feeling hollow. Slugging your automail around all the time consumes a large number of calories, and you’ve always eaten heartily, squaring away three meals a day for as long as you can remember. 

Thus, your tiny body is not used to being denied, especially as you continue to push forward, ignoring the ache in your feet and legs. 

You can’t stop until you find Ed and Al and manage to escape this horrible place. If you keep heading straight, you’re sure to either find the boys or reach some kind of wall that you can follow to an exit.

And so you push yourself for even longer, walking and walking until your knees literally knock together with the force of your legs shaking. In the nearby distance, you spot a large piece of rubble with a flaming top, and you stagger over to collapse in the light source.

 You press your back to the crumbled piece of wall, sliding down to sit in the pool of blood.

Sweat drips down your features as you lower your head to rest in your hands, palms over your eye and empty socket.

This is hopeless, you think to yourself bitterly. It's been at least two days by now, and you haven’t even seen a trace of them—nothing but burning rubble and corpses! You’re going to be alone in here until you die of starvation!

You can feel bitter tears begin to well up beneath your palm, and you press down harder to keep them inside. You’re never going to see Ed or Al again! This was a stupid idea in the first place, and you knew that! You knew that, and you let them do it anyway! Now, you’re going to pay for it!

※※※

You hear a splashing sound in the distance and you jerk your head up, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. You rub sleep hastily from your eye and chin, not sure when you’d fallen unconscious.

The sound catches your attention again, and you peer in its direction, but you can’t make out its source in the darkness. Pressing your hands to the ground, you transmute yourself a smokescreen, sending it out to identify the cause of the sound.

The dusty molecules part around a familiar shape, and your heart leaps into your throat. “Ed!” you cry out, leaping to your feet, and you sprint into the darkness, blood splashing around your boots.

You slam bodily into the boy in the darkness, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his hair.

Instantly, you freeze.

The boy places his arms around your waist but you jerk back, shoving him back roughly by the shoulders. “You’re not Ed,” you say to the boy coldly, and then retreat backward into the light where you can see.

Red sparks illuminate the darkness as you press your back to the rubble once more, and then Envy’s puzzled face steps forward into the light. “I don’t understand!” he shouts, vexed, waving his arms around. “I’m Envy the Jealous, the master of trickery! I know the disguise was perfect this time—I double checked! So, how? How can you possibly tell so quickly?”

You cross your arms over your chest, propping one leg up on the wall casually. You take a moment to consider his question seriously, and then shrug. “It’s easy,” you tell him honestly. “I know Ed better than I know myself.”

The homunculus leans against a broken pillar nearby, crossing his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks you, and stares with an intensity that makes you squirm in discomfort. It’s as if he’s searching deep into your soul to find answers to the questions he has.

You avert your gaze, shrugging your shoulders. “I guess,” you say slowly, “when you spend as much time with a person as I do with Ed and Al, you get to know them pretty well. Are you telling me you’ve never had a friend?”

You throw the question out to him, hoping to distract him from his intrusive staring, and it seems to work, as he blinks in surprise. “A friend?” he repeats in disbelief. “Me?” He scoffs, turning his head to the side. “How ridiculous—of course not!” His words come out hot, angry. “Friendship is just a pathetic concept that humans came up with so they’d feel less alone in the world!”

You’re pretty sure Envy doesn’t want to fight with you, and you’re in no state to trade blows yourself. You slide your back down the rubble again, landing in a seated position in the blood below, your knees pulled up to your chest. You rest your elbows on them, forearms dangling loosely before you.

“Well, we are alone in the world,” you agree. “Except when we’re with the people that make us forget that. You homunculi are made of human souls, aren’t you? You’re going to tell me that you can’t feel their emotions? Everybody is lonely.”

The boy looks at you in disbelief. “Did you hit your head or something?” he asks you, and for a split second he looks actually concerned. 

…Yeah, you tend to get a little bit philosophical when you’re tired; it’s something that the boys had drawn your attention to a number of times in the past.

His words bring you back to the matter at hand. “Speaking of friends,” you demand, turning the questioning around on him; “Where are Ed and Al? And where are we?”

“I don’t know where your precious boys are,” he sneers, his face shifting back into a more familiar expression. “And the short answer is: we’re inside Gluttony’s stomach, and there’s no way out of here, either!”

“What do you mean, ‘there’s no way out’?”

“I mean,” drawls Envy, his brow furrowing together in frustration, “that you and those boys of yours royally screwed up! I can’t believe you guys got me swallowed with you!”

You furrow your brow back at him. “Stop saying it like that,” you order him hotly, and he blinks again.

“What?”

“‘Those boys’,” you intone, mocking his rasping, sarcastic tone. “It’s not like that! They’re my best friends, that’s all!”

“‘They’re my best friends’,” he mocks back, his voice a perfect replica of yours, causing you to jump in surprise. “‘That’s all'!”

You narrow your one eyed gaze at him suspiciously. “Did you—?” you ask, hesitatingly. “Did you come see me the other night?”

His face twists into a wicked grin. “What a naughty question!”

Your cheeks burn, and you swat one arm through the air. “Not like that!” you bluster at him, and he lets out a laugh. “No, I mean the other night in the barn! I thought it was a dream, but it was you, wasn’t it?”

His head tilts to the side in innocent confusion, but a huge, sly grin ruins his ruse. “I’m afraid that I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chibi-chan!”

Your face sours at the nickname, but you persist. “No,” you continue, leaning forward to look at him better, pinning him beneath your green gaze. “It was definitely you—it had to have been! You disguised yourself as me and came to torment me. Why did you do that?”

He tilts his head, still feigning ignorance. “You recognize me as the Fullmetal Pipsqueak in an instant,” he points out, his voice teasing, “but not as yourself? How curious! I guess you weren't kidding before, when you said you know him better than yourself!”

“Why?” you press, demanding an answer from him.

He scoffs. “Besides,” he continues, ignoring you completely; “I would hardly call it ‘tormenting’. All I did was tell you what’s already inside your head.”

You glare at him. “And what would you know about what’s inside my head?”

He tilts his head again, and this time, his smile makes your skin crawl. “Oh, Chibi-chan,” he purrs; “I know more than you think. I already told you—I’ve been watching you for a while!”

You recall his words about being a “fly on the wall” and you grit your teeth at the realization, thinking of all the times you’d been seeing the annoying creatures recently—and here you thought Ed had been leaving the windows open!

“Are you just watching me?” you press him; “Or are you watching the other sacrificial candidates as well?”

“Just you and those bo—uhh, I mean, the brothers,” he informs you, and you’re surprised that he actually abided by your request. 

“And just what are you planning on doing with us, anyway? What exactly do you think that you’re going to be ‘sacrificing’ us for?”

He rolls his eye. “As if I’d tell you! That information is highly classified; it’s on a need-to-know basis only, and you, Chibi-chan, don’t need to know!”

You sigh and let the question drop for now—apparently you’re going to be here for a while, so you’ll push him more later.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. Eventually, you glance back up at him. “Earlier, you called yourself ‘Envy the Jealous’.”

The boy smirks at you. “That is my name, yes,” he confirms. “Are you just trying it on for size? Seeing how it feels rolling off your tongue?”

“No,” you scoff. “That’s weird. I was just wondering which one it was.”

He blinks at you owlishly, the smirk wiped off his face. “Which one?” he parrots back.

“Yeah. Are you envious or jealous?”

He furrows his brow, looking at you like you’re an idiot. “They’re the same thing,” he tells you, and you shake your head.

“A lot of people think that,” you inform him, “but it’s not true. If you’re jealous of someone, it means that you want what they have. If you’re jealous of a person’s house, or of a woman’s dress, then you want to take it from them and keep it all to yourself. But if you’re envious of someone, you want what they have, too. You want a nice house like theirs, or you want to go buy the same dress that she has.”

You look up at the boy, who is staring down at you, puzzled. “So?” you prompt; “Which one is it?”

Envy seems at a loss for words, and so you shake your head, plowing forth through the silence. “What does it even mean to be the embodiment of envy, anyway? Does that make you the embodiment of desire? How does that make you any different from being the sin of greed? Greed is desire,” you point out, words pouring from your lips. “Or even lust, for that matter, since that word can just be a synonym for ‘want’. You can have a gluttonous hunger for what belongs to others. You can take pride in all of your possessions, or in the fact that you’ve successfully taken something from someone…” 

You shrug, shaking your head thoughtfully. “The whole thing seems awfully broken to me,” you tell him. “If you can feel pride based on envy, who’s to say you can’t feel other things, too? Have you ever really tried?”

Envy eyes you warily. He splashes over to you and you blink up at him in surprise as he stands above you, placing his hands on his hips and leaning down to examine your skull. “Chibi-chan,” he says cautiously; “Are you sure that you didn’t hit your head?”

※※※

You drag your feet mindlessly through the blood, the teen homunculus tagging along behind you. He’d been reluctant to move on, at first, but you aren't going to stop until you find your family.

The two of you press onward in silence for an unknown amount of time, Envy holding a torch in one hand to stave off the darkness. Up ahead, you use a faint shadowy smokescreen to get an idea of any obstacles, keeping your senses out for the familiar shape of the Elric brothers.

You hope that they’re together, and that they’re not too busy being worried about you.

Your stomach aches with hunger. It feels like you haven’t eaten in days, and for all you know, you haven’t—you have no way of telling time down here. Still walking, you pat your flesh hand over your rumbling tummy, rubbing soothing circles over it as it cries out to you in whale-song.

“Chibi-chan,” Envy calls out to you suddenly, breaking your hungry reverie; “What’s so special about that Fullmetal Pipsqueak, anyway?”

His words cause you to blush. “W-what’re you talking about?” you stammer out, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t think he’s special.”

The teen rolls his eyes at you. “You’re clearly in love with him,” he tells you, and you faceplant into the blood in front of you.

You push yourself upright and wipe the stuff from your face. “I am not!” you exclaim loudly—too loudly. “No, I’m not; that’s ridiculous!” He gives you a doubtful expression, and you shake your head harder. “He’s just my best friend—that’s the end of the story! We’ve been together our whole lives, so of course we’re really close! You sound ridiculous!”

Envy creeps up closer to take a look at your face, and then he bursts out laughing. “Look at you!” he hollers through his guffaws. “You’re red as a tomato!”

“A-am not!”

“Are too! And you’re totally in looove with Edward Elric!”

You turn and attempt to clobber him over the head, but he dodges back, still laughing. 

“Are you going to get married and change your name to Mrs. Elric?” he taunts you, and you stomp your foot, sending up a spurt of blood.

“You shut up! What do you even know about love, anyway?! Nothing, that’s what!”

Suddenly, his face gets more serious. He slides closer, glancing up at you from beneath his lashes, which get longer in a flash of red sparks. “You’re right,” he says to you, and his voice is low and quiet. “I don’t know much about love… Maybe you can teach me?”

You squint at him, and then you pinch your arm to make sure that this isn't some kind of weird dream. “What are you even talking about?” you demand. 

His eyelashes flutter at you as he smolders. “Chibi-chan, let’s go on a date!” He clasps his hands together at his chest and kicks up one leg behind him like an anime school girl, leaning in to you with his lips puckered up. 

Shouting in frustration, you shove him roughly by the shoulders, and he topples over backward into the blood.

He laughs, rolling onto his back to face you. “C’mon,” he cajoles, putting his hands up in the air in an offering gesture. “I’ll let you in on a little homunculus trade secret!” He glances around theatrically as if to make sure nobody is listening, and then smirks up at you, lolling out his tongue, which is abnormally long. “Our saliva contains healing properties,” he whispers to you conspiratorially, glancing at your thighs with a wicked grin. “First I’ll take you out to dinner, and then we can go and clean those pretty little legs right up!”

You imagine the lean, muscled teen before you with his head close to your bare thighs, and your cheeks burn hotter. A mix of embarrassment, disgust, and some other small, strange thing that you can’t identify swirl together in your gut. 

You kick him sharply in the ribs, and he lets out a little oof!  

“You’re disgusting!” you snap at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively and turning your body away. “You think I want your filthy tongue anywhere near me?”

He sits up up the ground, putting his tongue away and shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never gotten any complaints!” he tells you, and you kick him again, in the head this time.

It seems as if he’s taking the blows on purpose as your foot connects to his skull with a hollow thwack. “You’re a creep!” you squeal at him. “You stay away from me!”

※※※

You walk, and you walk, and you walk. 

You walk in silence with the homunculus trudging along behind you, until finally, you need to rest. You find a large, flat piece of… something, sticking up from out of the blood. You slough your way over to it, collapsing onto your back on the dry surface with a whoosh of air.

Your leg muscles twitch from over-exertion. Your temples throb with a headache. You’re desperately thirsty, but all of your recent attempts to transmute water keep blowing up in your face, and you’d gotten too frustrated to keep trying. 

Time is beginning to slip away from you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been down here, not sure how many days it’s been now since you’ve eaten, or since you’ve seen the brothers. 

“Ed’s probably tried eating his boot by now,” you mutter, your inner thoughts slipping out through your lips. “Lucky idiot.”

You’d try it yourself, but unlike his natural brown pair, your boots have been dyed black, making them potentially dangerous to try to consume. 

“You don’t have to talk to yourself,” says Envy, dropping down into a cross legged position next to you. He places his hands on his knees and looks at you appraisingly, placing the torch on the ground between the two of you. “All the company you could ever wish for is right here.”

You roll your skull to the side to look at him. The torchlight flickers, illuminating his face from below, the shadows shifting over his features, distorting them with each drift of the flame. He smirks at you. “I can be anybody you want me to be!” he offers. With a flash of red, the boy sitting before you is Ed. You blink, and it’s Al. Another flash, and then finally, he stops on Hawkeye.

You roll your eye at him. “I just want to talk to Envy,” you tell the blonde woman before you, and she smiles at you, the look unnaturally wide on her normally stoic face.

“An excellent choice!” she tells you, and then there is another flash of red and the teen is sitting before you again. “Okay then, Chibi-chan; let’s talk!”

“Okay.” You try to think of a conversation topic, but all you can focus on is your stomach wailing in distress. “I’m hungry,” you inform the boy, not sure what else to say.

He barks out a little laugh. “Hi, Hungry,” he teases you. “I’m Envy!”

“Wow,” you deadpan at him. “That was so funny that I forgot to laugh.”

He shines his fingernails on his top, looking smug. “I’ve been told I’m something of a comedian,” he boasts, and you roll your eye.

“Well, that joke was horrible,” you tell him. “But I’m very generous. I’ll give you another chance—tell a better one this time.”

He scoffs, looking mildly offended. “I’m not much of a stand-up artist,” he informs you. “I’m more witty. How about a funny story, instead?”

You roll your head back forward to face to endless void above. “I’m all ears,” you tell him.

You can hear the excited smile in his  voice as he begins the tale. “Once upon a time,” he says in a dramatic tone, “there was a rich man with a cart full of treasure. He’d been pulling the cart through the woods when suddenly, the wheel broke and the cart wouldn’t move! The man fretted about what to do, pulling the hair from his head in distress.

“Suddenly, along came a passing hunter and his dog! The rich man begged the hunter to keep a close eye on his cart so that he could go fetch a new wheel, and the hunter agreed.

“So the rich man went off, and the hunter stayed and kept watch. He watched and he watched, but soon, night began to fall. The hunter didn't want to abandon his duty, but he was worried for his elderly mother, at home all alone.

“And so, the hunter commanded his dog to remain and watch the cart, and then went home to check on his mother.

“When the rich man returned, clutching a new wheel to his chest, he saw the dog standing watchfully over the cart. Looking around, he sought to reward the hunter, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, the man gave the dog a silver coin to carry home in his mouth to his master as thanks.

“Happy with himself, the dog ran all the way home and presented the coin to his master; but instead of being pleased, the hunter flew into a rage. ‘I told you to watch the cart!’ he shouted. ‘And what did you do? You stole from it!’

“And so, in punishment, the hunter retrieved his gun and shot the dog dead, right there in front of his house!”

At the end of the grisly story, Envy lets out a harsh, grating burst of laughter. “That one’s just hilarious, isn’t it?” he cheers.

A sour expression pulls at your lips. You push yourself up on your hands, leaning back against them with your palms flat to the ground as you examine the homunculus in front of you.

He is looking at you with an eager, almost hungry expression, as if he’s ravenous to see how you respond, a wide smile stretched across his thin lips.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. Then, you pin the boy with your gaze. “Why are you fucking with me?” you ask him, honestly curious to know.

His smile falters. “What?”

You tilt your head at him, searching his purple gaze with your own green one, trying to puzzle him out. “Why are you fucking with me?” you repeat, and the eager expression on his face falls completely. “You’ve been doing it the whole time we’ve been in here. I want to know why!”

The homunculus’ mouth opens to speak, but no sound comes out. After a moment, he closes his lips again.

You shake your head in frustration, still eyeing him sidelong. “Nothing snide to say now,” you jab at him, crossing your arms. “I don’t know what it is that you want from me,” you confess, “but whatever it is, you’re trying too hard.”

He looks offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands.

“It means that you feel fake. If you really believe that we’re never getting out of here, then why are you still pretending? Who are you trying to impress? Me?” You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t think that story was very funny, and I don’t think that you do, either!”

The boy looks completely and utterly shocked. He stares at you, agape, for several moments. Then, he seems to scramble to regain his composure. He crosses his arms back at you, sneering. “You humans always do seem to think so highly of yourselves,” he hisses. “Me? Want to impress you? Do you even understand how stupid you sound right now? I hate humans! I think that you’re pathetic! Disgusting! Weak!”

You stare at him, and revelation breaks out over you. “Envy the Jealous,” you say, thinking aloud; “I get it now!” A small, bitter smile begins to break out over your lips, and you let out a soft laugh. “You are envious! …Or jealous, I guess; only you can know that difference. But the point is, you envy us humans!” He opens his mouth to protest, but you begin to laugh harder. “It’s too funny, really! You’re nothing but a classic case of sour grapes! You want to be human so badly but you can’t; so you decide to hate them instead!”

Envy grits his teeth and then suddenly you’re being dragged upright, his face inches from yours. He uses his height to his advantage, towering over you. He grips your shoulders like a vice, keeping you locked in place. 

“You think you’re so smart,” he spits at you. “But you have no idea what you’re talking about! You humans live short, painful, pitiful lives! Why would I be envious of something like that?”

The grip on your flesh shoulder aches and you can feel your automail creak beneath his hand, but you stare back up at him defiantly. “Because we humans are so much more than that, at you know it!” 

You know that he’s been given orders not to hurt you, so you feel confident in arguing back at him. You know that despite the ache in your shoulder, he is, in fact, holding back.

“We can feel hope, and inspiration, and compassion! We can face every day with a new perspective, we can take pleasure in life’s tiny moments! And you want to be a part of all that!”

He turns his head to the side and spits, as if just hearing the words leaves a foul taste in his mouth. “Lies!” he shouts. “Disgusting lies! Do you think those things make you special? You talk about hope? Compassion? All weaknesses to be exploited!”

You stare up at him, where his eyes are hot and angry. You think about how long you’ve been here. You think about how hungry you are. You think about Ed and Al, still wandering around, lost in here, looking for you.

What if I never find them?

What if we really are stuck in here forever?

What if I die in here, all alone except this psycho?

With a sigh, you feel the fight flow out of you, soaking out from your feet and blending into the blood below you. “It’s okay,” you tell him quietly, surprising yourself with your words. “I want to have that stuff too.”

You can feel his grip on you loosen in surprise. After a moment, he lets his hands drop completely, taking a step back to look at you.

You stare down at your palms, unwilling to meet his gaze, which you can feel on you like a lead weight. “You already said that you’ve been watching for a while,” you tell him softly. “And you dressed up as me and you said all that other stuff, too, so I guess you already know about some of it…” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. “I… haven’t been having the best time of it, recently,” you admit. “Actually, my whole life has kinda been shit. First my parents died, and then Trisha died, and then we lost our bodies! We had to join the military, and now people keep getting hurt and dying, and—and I can’t even find my friends down here and we’re going to be stuck in here forever!” 

All of a sudden, it’s too much. You can feel his stare glued to you as tears well up in your eye, quickly spilling over your cheek. “And now I’m stuck in here with you instead of them and you keep fucking with me!!”

You raise your fist to wipe away your tears, sniffling loudly as you stamp your foot at him. “Stop staring at me!” you shout at him, heat flushing your cheeks. “I’m only crying because I’m pissed off! And I’m hungry, and I’m tired, and my feet hurt, and it’s all your fault!”

You can feel him staring at you, and you yell in frustration, stamping your foot again. The blood splashes onto the corner of his cheek and seems to snap the boy back to reality.

He steps up to you awkwardly and begins to mechanically pat your shoulder—too roughly, it’s not soothing at all—appearing to simply be mimicking something that he’d seen others do. “There, there,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

He is so visibly uncomfortable that you blubber out a laugh, and he looks a little relieved. “Gosh, you humans are so dramatic!” he sneers, rolling his eyes. “Go take a nap or something! I’ll look for your little boyfriend and then I’ll come back, alright?”

You sniffle. “Do you promise not to fight with him if you find him?” you ask, swiping at your cheek again. You’d rather go looking yourself, but he’s right—you’re exhausted, and you could use a nap to refresh your strength.

Envy makes a face. “No,” he tells you honestly, and you scoff at him. “But I’ll tell you what—I won’t fight with him unless he fights with me first. Deal?”

“Deal.”

※※※

You’re better rested but even hungrier after your nap. Envy is there when you wake up, and you only take a few moments to stretch before the two of you set off again. 

You’re still working your way through the bloody wasteland hours later when you see a flickering light up ahead.

At first, you take no notice, but then you can feel your ears twitch. Pausing your sloshing footsteps, you strain your hearing and catch a hint of sound. 

“Hello?” you call out, stepping forward in the direction of the noise. “Edward, Alphonse, are you there?”

“Echo? Echo, is that you?!”

You clap your hands to the ground and send out your feelers before you take off running in the direction of the voice.

“Ed!” you cry out. “Ed, I can hear you! I’m coming!”

“Hey, Echo! We’re over here! This way!”

You hurtle through the darkness and you hear Envy cursing as he stumbles behind you; you see his torchlight go out—he must’ve dropped it in the sea of blood below.

You can “see” just fine in the darkness thanks to your smokescreen, and you dodge nearby obstacles as you beeline toward the light.

As you get closer, you can see the boy. Your shadows reach him before you do, and he takes off running in their direction; you can feel the exact aerodynamic shape of him as he slices through your particles, and you let them fall into the blood below as the two of you slam into each other.

You wrap your arms around the golden boy, the two of you tangled together in the perfect darkness. You bury your nose into his neck and his scent tickles your nostrils—iron, sunshine, and that other, unique scent that you’ve only ever smelled on him. A tear prickles your eye, so relieved that you’ve finally found him.

Ling draws in closer, clutching a torch. As the light hits the two of you, Ed pulls back. He holds you at arms’ length, gripping your shoulder tightly in one hand, the other splinted by his side. “Are you okay?” he demands, his eyes raking over your face and body, inspecting you for any damage; you’re examining him the same way.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and begin searching over his shoulder. “Where’s Al?”

He reaches for the strap around his chest, pulling it around and revealing the boy’s gauntlet from where it was tied behind his back. “He’s not here,” he tells you, presenting you with the glove to inspect. “When I woke up, I found this nearby!”

“So that means that just his hand got swallowed by Gluttony,” you sigh, relieved that your brother is not trapped in here with you.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees; “He should be much safer out there.”

You finger your stopped pocket-watch nervously, thinking about just how long you’d been down here. “He must be so worried about us,” you fret, and Ed nods in worried agreement.

Suddenly, Envy reveals himself from the shadows behind you, stepping into the edge of the ring of light from Ling’s torch.

Ed shoves you behind himself, extending his arm protectively. “You!” he growls, and prepares to clap his hands, but you tug on the back of his jacket sharply. 

“Ed, wait; it’s okay,” you tell the boy, and the homunculus smirks in satisfaction. “He… He’s with me.”

※※※

Envy sits on the edge of a small piece of rubble as Ling and Ed question him. You’re still hanging close to the golden boy, desperately relieved to have finally found him after looking for so long.

“There is no way out,” Envy says, telling them the same thing he told you. “You see, I said before that we were in Gluttony’s stomach, but that’s not exactly the truth. You two alchemists should actually recognize this place—you’ve both been here before!”

You think back to Gluttony’s gaping mouth with the eyeball in the center, and then back to the times that you’d seen that eyeball before. “Are you telling me we’re inside the Portal of Truth?!” you demand. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?!”

Envy sticks his nose up in the air. “I wanted to wait until all of you lousy humans were together,” he snaps haughty, “so that I didn’t have to explain myself twice!”

Ed turns to you inquisitively. “But the Portal wasn’t black or filled with a sea of blood when I saw it. It wasn’t like that for you, was it?” 

You shake your head at the boy. “No, it was like… a perfectly white void.”

The green haired teen hums in vague surprise. “Hm, so that’s what the real one looks like,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“‘The real one’?”

Envy crosses his legs. “Gluttony is a failed experiment by our Father when he tried to create his own Portal of Truth,” he divulges, and you think back again to the gaping maw with a shudder. “Despite how powerful our Father is, he still couldn't create one. We’re trapped inside a defective Portal of Truth. So this place? It exists somewhere in between reality and Truth.”

“In between? ” you repeat, shocked at the full scale of the reality of the situation at hand.

“I’m telling you: there is no way out.” His voice is firm, unhesitating. “The only option we’ve got is to sit here until our strength runs out, and that’s it. All we can do is wait here to die.”

※※※

It takes a few moments for Envy’s words  to fully sink in, and when they do, you grab Ed’s hand in your own, squeezing it in an unconscious need for support. You can see Envy’s eyes flick down toward the movement, and his face sours.

But you hardly notice as your thoughts begin to spiral at the grim diagnosis. “No,” you murmur out loud, shaking your head softly, the dried blood crackling in your hair. “No, we can’t die in here! Al is waiting for us outside! We—we promised him that we’d get him his body back!”

Ed lets out a curse. “I wanna know who your Father is!” he demands, pointing roughly at the homunculus with the hand that’s not entwined with your own. “Who would try to create their own Portal? It’s Führer Bradley, isn't it?!”

Envy scoffs. “What, are you serious?” he questions, looking like he finds the idea absolutely ridiculous. “Ha! Nice try, but King Bradley’s nothing more than a homunculus!”

You’d all already assumed as much of the man after Ling’s description of the tattoo in his eye, but the cold confirmation still takes you by surprise. The Xingese boy mutters out a quick told you so.

Ed lets go of your hand, stepping forward angrily and clenching both fists at his sides. “The Fifth Laboratory… Human lives sacrificed to make Philosopher’s Stones… Homunculi…” He shakes his head angrily. “And if the Führer is on your side, then I’m guessing that you’re the ones behind Ishval!”

“Oh, Ishval!” repeats Envy, leaning forward with an excited look on his face. “I couldn't have asked for a more enjoyable job than that! You remember the incident that started the war, right?”

You begin to feel a pit growing in the center of your stomach.

“I had always heard it was because a military officer accidentally shot an Ishvalan child,” Ed spits, and Envy snaps his fingers with a grin.

“Yup!” he confirms proudly. “And the one who proudly pulled the trigger is none other than yours truly!”

You take a staggering step backward. Your head spins. The person that you’d been walking with for days, talking with, the person that you’d made fun of, had cried in front of…

...had shot an innocent child in the face?

He had kick-started an entire war? No—a genocide?

Why?

He wears a giddy expression on his face. “You have no idea how good that felt! I ravaged their entire country with a single bullet!” He lets out a laugh. “I mean, talk about invigorating!”

“Do you want to know the best part?” he boasts, continuing. “The officer I pretended to be? He was actually a moderate who had always publicly opposed the military’s occupation in Ishval! And listen to this—the poor guy couldn't come up with a good excuse, and they court-martialled him! You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how easily manipulated humans are!”

Ed begins to stalk toward the homunculus. You want to follow him, but your feet don’t seem to want to listen, staying planted firmly beneath you. 

He really is a psycho! All of those people—dead, because of him! Why?! Because his stupid Father commanded him?!

He—he was flirting with me! Teasing me about Ed! I—I don’t understand! What does he want from me?

“So you’re responsible,” hisses Ed, continuing toward the homunculus, leaving you staring at your stuck feet, powerless to stop him. “You were the one who shot and killed that poor, innocent child! You destroyed my home town—you drove out the Ishvalans! You’re the one who turned Scar into a murderer! And you’re the reason Winry’s parents were killed! You’re the one to blame!”

With his last words, he slams his fist into Envy’s face.

But the teen (who is apparently much older than he looks) does not budge.

He eyes the boy sidelong, and then glances over at you. “Okay then,” he growls, rising to his feet in a flash of red sparks; “If that’s how you want it!”

“Ed!” you yell, and finally, your traitorous feet obey; you dash forward toward the boy, tugging on his sleeve. “Get back!”

Ling steps forward and the three of you face off against the lean homunculus, who rises slowly to his feet on the rubble he was sitting on. 

“Since none of us are getting out of here anyway, I guess you’re not sacrificial candidates anymore,” he growls, and the hair stands up on the back of your neck. Something in the air shifts, and begins to feel heavier. “I’m gonna show you kids something real neat before we die! It’s a kindness for you, really! This way you won’t have to suffer—much!”

In between the flashes of red sparks, you can see his body begin to change. His skull begins to contort and grow, his limbs lengthening, skin turning green and multiple faces blossoming from his thick neck.

He begins to grow, and grow, and grow. You recall the deep gouges his slim body had left in the dirt when you were fighting him days before, and a shudder runs down your back, understanding now that he’d been much heavier than he looked.

When the transformation is complete, the colossal beast rears back, tossing his head through the air. You stare in utter horror at the beast before you, his true size sending you staggering back.

With a feral grin on his green, horse-like face, he slams forward to put all eight limbs on the ground, and the sea of blood lurches violently beneath the motion. The oncoming wave hits you in the face, sending you tumbling over backwards in the muck, swirling away from your two allies.

The red liquid gets up your nose and into your mouth. Rising to your feet, you spit violently onto the ground, trying to rid your mouth of the bitter, metallic taste. You are soaked head-to-toe in blood, your clothes dripping in the stuff.

You blow air sharply out your nose to clear the gunk remaining in your nostrils, and then glance around for your friends. You see them both crouching nearby, one to either side of you.

“What the hell?” shouts Ling, and you divert your attention back to the lurking, hulking monster, who licks his lips in your collective direction. “How is that a homunculus?! They’re supposed to be artificial humans, right?”

You can’t stop staring at the mass of faces that the monster wears around his neck like a scarf. It’s a truly horrifying amalgamation, each individual one moaning, crying, laughing, screaming, begging; begging to be set free, begging to live, begging to die. Each face writhes and contorts in a variety of different emotions. They twist and turn; some of them have arms as well as faces, and they flail their limbs, reaching out in all directions, some of them ripping and tearing at the skin of their own faces.

You stand, rooted to the spot, still reeling as the boys launch themselves into combat against the mighty beast. 

All of these faces… These are all the human souls that make up his Philosopher’s Stone! All of these people… This is what his soul is made of!

It’s chaos!

You’re so focused on trying to comprehend the madness that you don’t even realize when Envy turns his attention on you.

Is this what they want to sacrifice us for? you think to yourself, feeling your legs shaking beneath you. Do they want to take our souls and turn us into some kind of super-powered Philosopher’s Stone?

…Are they going to make me into something like that?

…Are they going to make Ed and Al into something like that?!

By the time you realize that the white flash growing rapidly in your vision is the glint from Envy’s teeth, it’s too late. He snaps you up into his jaws and, with an audible gulp, you’re swallowed whole.

Chapter Text

“Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world.” 

—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

※※※

You are in a lush, green field, and the sun is warm on your skin. You sit cross-legged on the ground, fingers idly tugging at the blades of grass beneath you.

Two blonde boys are play fighting nearby. You recognize them, of course—it’s Ed and Alphonse. Their golden hair shines in the sun, the younger boy’s cut shorter against his head than his brother’s braided locks.

You smile at them faintly, glancing down at the grass between your fingers. When you look up again, Al is leaning down over you, a flower crown held proudly between his hands. “Echo!” he cheers gleefully, his golden eyes glowing with excitement. “Ed and I made this for you!”

You accept the flower crown, placing it delicately atop your head. 

It’s lovely, of course, but you can’t help but feel that something seems… off.

But the blonde boy beams down at you, at you smile back up at him, feeling your worries ease.

Ed leans over his brother’s shoulder, looking down at you with a soft smile. “It was pretty tough trying to work around all the leaves,” he tells you sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck; “But we thought all the green would bring out your eyes!”

My eyes? you think to yourself, reaching up toward your right socket. No, that’s not right, I only have…

But your eyelid reflexively flutters closed as your fingers approach, and they come into contact with smooth skin. 

It’s only then that you realize that part of the strange feeling is that everything seems to actually look strange. You can’t quite place your finger on how, but everything seems to be clearer than normal, like everything has an extra depth and dimension that you’re normally unable to see. 

But why wouldn’t you normally be able to see like this?

You trace your fingers over your eyelid gently and then blink the lid open, squinting against the sun. You can feel your pupils constricting in the light, and you’re struck again by that same strange feeling.

But if not your eye, then what were you expecting to find on your face?

Shaking your head, you try to clear the thought away. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, and adjust your hair beneath the crown. 

“And were you right?” you prompt the boy, referring to his previous statement; you strike a bit of a pose, blinking up at him dramatically. “Don’t they just sparkle like emeralds?”

“Wow, Echo! You look like a princess!” declares Al, and bows to you, bending low at the waist.

You can feel a little grin fall over your face, your worries rapidly flitting away from you. “A princess, huh?” you repeat, and rise to your feet, facing the boys and standing akimbo. “Then I guess that makes you two my loyal subjects!”

Ed bows to you as well, taking your hand in his own and kissing the back of your fingertips gently, and you giggle down at him. “Thank you, my knight! Now, what is the first order of royal business this morning?”

Al begins to cheer, pumping his fists in the air. “Picnic!” he chants, doing a little dance in place. “Pic-nic, pic-nic, pic-nic!”

His antics cause you to laugh again. “Yes, my royal jester!” you declare, waving your hand in a boisterous gesture. “A picnic it shall be!”

※※※

You wake standing upright in a writhing mass of red. The fibers move beneath you like worms, and you blink, trying to make out their shape in the dim lighting. 

They are soft and squirming beneath your feet, and you have to constantly shift to readjust your balance so you don’t fall. 

Suddenly, a faint, rasping voice calls out from the darkness. “Hello?” it calls. “Is someone there?” The voice breaks on the words, sounding like it hasn’t been used in a long time.

Squinting against the darkness, you begin to take slow, hesitant steps forward, toward the voice. The ground squelches and squishes beneath your boots—it feels like you’re walking on some sort of giant squirming sponge. The scent of bile and wet meat fills your nostrils, and you can practically feel your nose hairs singe at the odor.

Up ahead, you begin to make out a faint shape. As you creep closer and closer, you’re able to make it out more clearly.

It’s a person, standing spread eagle, each of their limbs tied with chains to the red, writhing walls. You try to take a closer look at their face, but it seems to shift and change beneath your gaze, never looking the same for more than an millisecond at a time.

The sight of it makes your head begin to swirl, and you rub your eye with the back of your hand, glancing down instead toward their bare feet; they still shudder through changes like thumbing through a flip-book at double speed, but at least they make you a little less nauseous.

“Who are you?” you ask the person. “Where are we?”

“It’s been such a long time…” they tell you, and you can’t make out any details about them from their voice; “...since anybody has listened to me.”

You can’t tell if the voice is male or female, young or old; indeed, it seems to somehow be both all of which and none of which all at the same time.

“Well, I’m here, listening to you now,” you tell the person, and lick your dry lips. “Can you tell me where we are?”

They sigh, sounding long weary. “We’re in the dark place that he puts the things he doesn’t want to see,” the figure tells you cryptically. “Things he doesn't want to think about, doesn't want to feel.”

“Things who doesn’t want to feel?” you question. You try to remember what you were doing before, but your mind comes up blank. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s so nice to finally be heard,” they tell you, and you risk another glance up to their face, which continues to shift under your gaze. You can feel your temples begin to throb more and more the longer you look, so you avert your gaze again, this time focusing on their bound wrists. 

“Why are you chained up in here?” you ask them, watching the hands flicker, nails fluctuating in length, appearing nearly blurred with the speed.

“Because,” the figure sighs. “I tell him things that he doesn’t want to hear.”

You feel a lump beginning to form in your throat. “Like what?” you respond, still not knowing the he in question.

“I tell him to stop,” they tell you, and your head spins as you try to keep up. “I tell him how he’s feeling. I tell him how others must feel.”

“But he doesn't listen?”

“No,” they sigh sadly. “He hasn’t for a long, long time.”

You take a step closer, examining the chains. They are made of thick, sturdy metal. You get the feeling that, even with your alchemy, you would have no hope of ever breaking them on your own.

“And why doesn’t he listen?” you question the figure, reaching out a curious finger to touch the cool metal.

“Because it’s easier to lie to yourself than it is to feel pain,” they tell you solemnly, and you feel a little jolt run through you at the words. “And the pain is easier to bear when it’s on the outside.”

You feel your guts churning inside of you. “W-what do you mean?” you stammer, taking a small step back.

“He’s done it too, you know,” the voice tells you cryptically. “But it’s a lot harder for him. He heals so fast that he has to be creative.” Your mind spins, struggling to keep track of the conversation. “He’s tried stabbing. He’s tried burning. He’s shot himself in the face and he’s ripped his own limbs off. He’s been trampled by bulls, tried decapitation, and even used poison. But he always heals—physically, anyway.”

“I don’t understand!” You shake your head, beginning to feel frustrated. “Why are you telling me all of this? I don’t want to know!”

“Because,” the voice tells you, its voice insistent. “You’re the only one who can help us!” They pull against the chains and the rattling of metal rings out briefly through the air; the wet walls seem to swallow the sound. “You have to make him listen to me! It’s the only way either one of us can be free!”

You shake your head, stepping back. “I don’t even know you,” you argue, not willing to take on unneeded responsibility. “And you still haven’t told me who you’re talking about!”

You hear the voice sigh. “Isn't it obvious?” it asks you. “I’m talking about—!”

※※※

“Echo!”

Ed is crouched over you, shaking your shoulders as you blink awake at him. You’re lying on your back on a dry, hard surface, and the boy’s worried face is all you can see above you. His ponytail hangs over one shoulder as he peers worriedly down at you. The white bandage on his head is stained with blood that isn't his.

“Echo!” he says again, searching your face with his golden gaze. “Are you okay?”

You groan, pressing one hand to your own aching head. “What happened? Where are we?”

Ed lets out a relieved sigh, sitting back on his haunches. “We’re still inside Gluttony, unfortunately. Envy swallowed you,” he says, glaring in accusation at the boy, who has returned to his human shape. “But I was able to get you out.”

You sit up, and you feel his mismatched hands reach out to help. He guides you into a seated position, and you rub at your temples, eyeball throbbing in your skull. “How’d you do that?” you ask him, gritting your teeth through the pain.

The blonde boy flushes slightly, scratching the back of his head. “Well, I, uh…”

“He jumped in after you!” Ling pipes up from behind Ed, peering down at the boy dubiously. “That crazy fool actually fought to hop inside that monster’s mouth to go after you!”

You feel you own cheeks begin to warm as you pin Ed beneath your glare. “Why would you do something so stupid?!” you demand of him. “You could’ve been killed!”

“So could you!” he argues back, waving his hands in frustration. “What, was I just supposed to let you get eaten in here?!”

You scoff at him. “You couldn’t have tried cutting me out of his belly?” you persist. “Or making him throw up?!”

A vein pulses in his forehead. “We were kind of in the middle of a fight, you know!” he points out to you. “I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of time to go over my options!”

Envy lets out a long, loud groan. “Ughhhh! Can you two lovebirds stop bickering already and tell us how you plan to get out of here?”

Faces red, you and Ed both turn to shout up at Envy at the same time. “We’re not lovebirds!” you both yell, and then glance at each other; you both blush harder before glancing away again.

Envy lets out a gagging sound, and Ed rolls his eyes. 

“Alright!” he says hurriedly, scratching the back of his neck as he turns away from you. “Here’s the plan…!”

※※※

Ling holds the torch closer as you and Ed examine the seven broken slabs that Envy had gathered. There are still chunks missing, but the homunculus had said that this was all he was able to find.

You let out a low whistle, running your flesh fingertips delicately over the ancient stone tablet closest to you. “Do you really think these came from Xerxes?” you ask the blonde at your side, taking in the intricate carvings and the painted colors, still vibrant even after all of these years.

“I do,” confirms Ed. “They’re pieces of a large mural from what remains of their temple. Do you remember the transmutation circle we saw in the Fifth Laboratory?” You nod in confirmation, and he continues. “When I saw one of these fragments up close, I thought it was the same one that they used there—one to make Philosopher’s Stones... but now that I look at it, it’s actually different!”

He places a hand on his chin, deep in thought, and you begin to nod in understanding, peering closer at the slabs. “The sun represents the Soul,” you point out for Ling’s benefit. “The moon represents the Mind, and the stone itself represents the Body.” You shake your head. “Ed, I think you’re right—this might really work!”

The Xingese boy shakes his head behind you. “Slow down, you two!” he warns. “Try to keep it simple, okay?”

You make a face, but Ed is able to dumb it down for the boy. “Basically,” he explains, “this is a summoning circle…” He turns to look over his shoulder, pinning the other boy beneath his hard gaze. “...for human transmutation.”

Ling leans forward in surprise, the torchlight flickering over his features. “I do know that one!” he admits, and you’re not surprised by the fact, given that he’s searching for immortality. “...At least, I think I do! Is it used to bring back dead people?”

You shake your head. “That’s what most people think; we used to think that too, but it’s not quite right.”

“Alchemy is based on the rule of Equivalent Exchange,” explains Ed, breaking it down for the boy. “You can’t transmute a life form from a soul that no longer exists in this world—you can trust us on that one.” His last words are a grim bite.

You pick up where he left off. “When we tried to bring back our mother, we accidentally transmuted Al instead,” you explain. “But we were going about it all wrong, so it didn’t work the way it was supposed to. You can’t transmute the dead, but you can transmute the living! We just have to know what we’re really trying to do before we start! We didn’t before, but now we do!” 

The more you explain it, the more confident you become. This really might work! We might really get out of here!

“We can use this transmutation circle to deconstruct ourselves,” continues Ed, mirroring your growing excitement; “Then we can put ourselves back together! That’s human transmutation, and it’ll open the Portal.” He turns toward Envy, who crosses his arms at the boy, acting like he isn't listening carefully. “You said that Gluttony is a defective Portal of Truth…” he ponders. “...I bet that if we pass through the real Portal, then we’ll wind up in our own reality!”

You nod enthusiastically, locking gazes with the blonde boy and clenching your fist in front of you in determination. “We’ll do it together,” you tell him firmly, already knowing that he was going to attempt to suggest doing it alone. “We’ll open up the real Portal,” you repeat, turning your attention back to Envy and Ling, “and you two will jump through it.”

Envy sneers at you. “What happens if it goes wrong?” he presses. 

Ed’s words snap you out of your thoughts. “Then it’ll rebound,” he explains, voice grim. “A failed transmutation ricochets onto the person who performed it.” He turns to you, face determined, and you already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth—you begin shaking your head in advance. “Echo,” he says, forging on stubbornly despite your protests. “You know that’s why I can’t let you do this with me. There’s always the chance it might not work, and I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“Can’t let me do this with you?” you repeat, eyeing the boy incredulously as you cross your arms over your chest. “Good luck trying to stop me! I’m not letting you do this alone, Ed, so don’t even bother to argue with me! What would I say to Al if I came back without you?”

He can’t seem to come up with a good argument for that one, and, after a moment, he concedes. 

He turns his attention toward the green-haired homunculus. “Hey, Envy! I’ve got something else I wanted to ask you!” The boy lets out an answering grunt, and Ed begins dragging his toe through the dust on the ground beneath you, drawing a quick sketch of a transmutation circle in the clean paths. “The completed mural from Xerxes,” he explains, gesturing to his drawing. “It would’ve looked more or less like this!” He points to a part on top. “This was the first thing that caught my eye!” he explains. “The symbol for ‘God’ is written upside-down; and beneath it is the two-headed dragon—the alchemic symbol for a complete lifeform!”

“What that means,” you explain, catching the lost look on Ling’s face as Ed scrutinizes the circle, “is that you can read this kind of like a sentence. It basically translates to, ‘I will Strike down God and become a Perfect Being.’”

Ling lets out a little snort. “That’s certainly an arrogant concept!”

You point at a nearby slab which is painted in bright colors, a vibrant red circle clearly visible, nestled perfectly among the shattered piece of rubble so as to still remain. “This was the first piece that caught my eye,” you tell Ed, and walk over to examine it further. “The image of the Lion swallowing the Sun… it represents the Philosopher’s Stone!”

Ed lets out a grim nod. “Yeah,” he agrees, “and that’s what I wanted to ask Envy about.” He calls out to the boy over his shoulder, not turning around to look at him. “Philosopher’s Stones are made of human souls, right?”

“Yeah,” Envy agrees nodding unabashedly; “That’s right.”

“How could a nation as advanced as Xerxes possibly fall—let alone in a single night?” he pushes, finally turning to pin the homunculus beneath his gaze. “What happened to its citizens? These stone fragments of the mural—you put them here to hide the evidence!”

You gasp as his words wash over you, realizing the awful truth. “You killed them!” you murmur, struggling beneath the thought of the sheer scale of the destruction. “You transmuted all of Xerxes and made its people into a Philosopher’s Stone!”

Ed clenches his fists. “Who was it?!” he demands, glaring at Envy. “I want to know who used this to transmute himself! Who slaughtered the population of a whole country? Who created all of you? Who’s trying to make themselves powerful enough to surpass God?!” He points a brash finger at the homunculus, who tilts his chin up arrogantly in response to the boy’s demands.

“It was that shitty Father of yours, wasn’t it?” you demand, glaring at the green-haired teen with your arms crossed over your chest.

Ed takes a step forward, placing his hand on your shoulder to quell your outburst. You glance over at him, but he keeps his furious gaze locked on the homunculus, pinning him in place with the weight of his eyes. “He’s been using you homunculi to try to recreate the destruction of Xerxes here in Amestris, hasn’t he?!” he demands, and again, the growing scale of your problems sends you reeling.

You wait, hoping that Envy will laugh, will call Ed a fool for suggesting something like that, but he says nothing. Instead, he leans forward, crossing his arms at the boy and sneering. “Get us out of here,” he bargains, “and I’ll gladly tell you everything!” 

He glares down his nose at you and Ed, his chin lifted in the air. “You’ve spent enough time beating around the bush; I’m getting sick of waiting for you to ask! You need to pay a toll, right? To open the portal?” He raises one hand in the air and, in a flash of red sparks, transmutes the arm into a bird’s leg, the predator’s talons razor sharp.

With a giddy exclamation and a wide smile, the boy slices the talons across his chest, revealing the Philosopher’s Stone nestled in his skin.

The red glow pulses before you but all you can do is stare in horror as Envy seems to revel in the pain.

He’s done it too, you know, echoes the voice from your dream in your head, and you shake your head minutely at the grim realization. But it’s a lot harder for him. He heals so fast that he has to be creative.

“This should work!” the boy says, a giddy smile on his face.

※※※

You and Ed wipe the blood from your hands onto your clothes. You stare down at the familiar transmutation circle that the two of you had scrawled on the ground, carefully ensuring that every line was as straight as possible, each circle as perfect as you could make them.

You turn to Ling, who is standing with Envy outside the circle. You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. “Y’know, Ling…” you say haltingly, not sure how to continue. “There’s… a chance that this might not work out for us. If anything bad happens, you need to warn people about these homunculi! Can you do that for us?”

Smirking, the boy stands with his hands on his hips, turning his face arrogantly to the side. “I don’t care that much about Amestris,” he informs you smugly. “It’s not my country!”

You can feel a vein bulge in your forehead before your brain even processes the words. When you finally do, it only begins to pulse harder. “Are you serious?!” you demand of him, and he snickers out a laugh, tilting his head to the side at the two of you. “You guys still have too long a life left together to die in a place like this,” he tells you, and you feel your cheeks warming at his words. “Besides, you have people that are counting on you to come home! So just make it back alive, and you can tell them yourselves.”

Envy steps inside the circle. “Let’s get on with it!” he complains.

You and Ed exchange a look, and then you give each other a firm nod. 

We can do this!

Together, the two of you clap your hands and then slam them into the ground at the center of the circle. Blue and black alchemy lights up the area, shining brightly as a red hue slowly begins to engulf the world around you. Shadows that are not yours to control begin to swirl around the edges of the circle. The shadows soon give way to reaching, grasping black hands that you’d hoped to never see again.

As a huge, unfortunately-familiar eye gapes open in the center of the circle, you hear Ed begin to shout. “Ling!” he calls urgently over his shoulder, not daring to turn away from the chaos before him; “Jump in it, now!”

You hear the boy’s hesitating footsteps for only a moment. “You maniacs better know what you’re doing!” he hollers. “I’m trusting you!” 

Then he steps forward into the circle. You can feel the weight of the air shift as the particles that make up his body join in the mash of your transmutation. You marvel at how much easier it it to control everything now than it was when you were younger. You wonder if it’s because you’re much stronger as an alchemist, or if it’s because you actually understand the goal of the transmutation this time. 

Somehow, you can feel the weight of a few souls being burned away inside of Envy’s Philosopher Stone, their energy expended to spare you and the boy by your side from paying the toll. Closing your eye for a moment, you thank them for their sacrifice.

Envy dissolves next, and his mass is much larger, but no more difficult to control.

After the homunculus is gone, only you and Ed remain. You can feel yourself begin to break into dust, and you reach out a hand to Ed.

Smiling at you, he takes your hand in his, closing his eyes as you both fade into atoms.

※※※

Your consciousness rockets through the Portal, the familiar waves of all-encompassing knowledge swirling through the edges of your mind.

This time around, you don’t fight the flow as your cells rocket through space and time. You can feel your atoms swirling like the mist you control, and you begin to pull yourself back into your human form.

As you reach the epicenter of the swirling knowledge, where it comes together in a vortex, you shoot through the void, ending up in the all-encompassing white area that still haunts your nightmares.

As you hurtle through the snow-white backdrop, you can see Truth’s white, outlined form loom up in front of you. A wide grin splits its face, your own green eye staring back at you with a wicked mirth. 

what’s this?

you’re not even trying to get your eye back right now, are you?

But you don’t have time to stay and chat, and you wouldn’t want to even if you did. You continue on your trajectory, your body launching straight through Truth’s illusory form, which dissolves into nothing around you.

※※※

With a thump, your body lands on a hard surface, although there is nothing below you but empty white space.

The breath is knocked out of you with a low whoosh, and you wheeze as you fight to regain your air. 

Sitting up with a groan, you take in the great stone door that looms before you—yet another sight that you hadn’t been eager to see again.

You hear a shifting sound beside you, and when you turn, you’re surprised to see Ed sitting beside you.

You reach out and grip his shoulder in your hand, not quite believing that he’s really here with you in this place until you feel him beneath your palm; warm, solid, and alive. “Ed!” you laugh, delighted. “You’re here! That means that it worked!”

He jumps under your touch, having not registered your presence yet. Once he does, he smiles at you, gripping your hand on his shoulder in his own.

Then, he turns to look over his shoulder and his mouth drops open, gaping like he’d just seen a ghost.

So you turn to see what has him so shocked, and you can feel your own jaw drop as well.

Because there, sitting with his back facing you, attention affixed to a second stone portal door, is a naked blonde boy. His hair is longer and even more ragged than yours, and his body is gaunt, though not skeletal. 

You recognize who it is before he even turns his face around, his features familiar to you despite the added age and the sunken cheeks.

“Alphonse!” you choke out, and Ed takes off running toward his brother. After a heartbeat of stunned shock, you follow behind him, your footsteps falling silently on the solid nothingness beneath you.

But the shadowy hands reach out from the open door behind you and wrap around you and Ed before you can even make it half way.

You thrash against the hands that tug you toward the door behind you, away from your brother’s human body, as he slowly rises to his feet and turns to face the two of you.

“Al!” Ed cries, fighting just as hard beside you. “Come on! Please, hurry up!”

You reach out with a desperate hand, managing to wrestle your automail arm free from your binds to extend to the boy. “Take my hand!” you holler at him. “We’ll get you out of here!”

The gaunt boy gives you both a soft, sad smile; he lowers his gaze and begins to shake his head. “I can’t,” he tells you sadly, and you can feel your heart shatter at the words. “I can only leave with my own soul. I’m sorry—I can’t go with you.”

No! 

No, we’re so close!! 

We might never get this close again!!

You fight as hard as you can but the hands are relentless. Soon you’re pulled through the door, and it slams shut behind you.

For just an instant, you and Ed are turned into molecules again, losing your physical shapes and blending your cells together. For just a single instant, your minds merge into one, and it gives you both the final burst of strength you need to push yourselves forward, slamming the door open again with your combined mass and then regaining your own shapes.

“Alphonse!” screams Ed, pinning his brother beneath his determined gaze, which burns like molten fire. “Listen to us! I promise—we’re coming back for you!!”

“We’ll show you!” you yell, fighting with every ounce of strength you have against the vice-like hands pulling you back. “We’re going to bring you back with us, no matter what!!”

“Just wait for us!”

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

Al follows Gluttony down the secret tunnels that run below Central. His metal footsteps bounce around the metal tube, the sound reverberating unnervingly. 

He’d been reluctant to follow the homunculus, of course, but the fat creature had said something about a “Father” who was supposed to be really smart and had promised to show Al the way, so here he was.

Xiao Mei clings to his helmet, the pint-sized panda quaking nervously in the damp dimness. Gluttony spreads his arms, speaking animatedly in short, staggered sentences. “Father can make anything!” he boasts proudly. “He made all of us, he did! He made me, and he made Lust, and he made Envy, too!”

Al remains silent, becoming more and more nervous the closer that he gets to the man known as “Father”. He can feel a strange sort of heaviness in the air, and it makes him uneasy.

He imagines how powerful the man must be, to have created these homunculi, and he doesn’t like the thought.

…But if anybody knows how to get Echo and his brother out of the blubbery boy before him, it’s probably going to be the man that made him.

And so he presses on in the dank, musty tunnel, imagining his non-existent stomach churning.

※※※

Gluttony swings open the huge double-doors at the end of the long series of tunnels, and light swathes into the darkness inside. Al can only make out some of the shapes in the darkness; he sees a mass of pipes and wires spreading out across the floor like a virus, leading toward a massive throne in the center of the room. Along the far wall is a set of stairs, which leads to another level high above.

The metal walls and stark white marble floor let out an energy so cold that Al can practically feel himself shivering, even without a body. The rest of the room is largely undecorated, save for the pipes and wires everywhere. They run upward from the floor; some of them crawl up along the walls, others rise straight from floor to ceiling in odd, seemingly random locations.

Something about the room feels wrong , Al thinks to himself absently. It seems to warp and twist at the edges of his vision, a faint pulsing running through the air that he can feel in his bonded soul; the whole room seems to be a product of some sort of twisted alchemy.

As Gluttony walks confidently toward the empty throne in the darkness, Al follows behind him slowly, his sense of unease growing more and more with each step he takes. He glances around the room, trying to memorize this place so that he can tell Ed and Echo about it when he figures out how to get them back.

Suddenly, Gluttony raises both pudgy hands above his head, waving them through the air eagerly. “Hello, Father!” he shouts, and Al can hear hear footsteps on the stairs above him. “I brought you a human sacrifice!”

He can feel himself begin to panic. “W-what?” he stammers, and imagines sweat rolling down his forehead. “Your Father? Where?! This is all happening too fast, I—!”

He hears Xiao Mei let out a squeak of terror and then she ducks into the space inside his helmet. Gulping, he glances up the staircase, and sees a shadowed figure standing with his hand on the railing, glaring down at him. “And who is this?” the man demands, and Al feels his eye-lights widen in shock at the familiar voice.

He takes a menacing step down the stairs and the light falls over his face; Al imagines his jaw dropping, though his faceplate does not move.

Because there, bathed in the pale white light from above—the man that Gluttony had called Father—is Hohenheim!

※※※

Al stares up at the familiar man in horror, but he doesn’t have long to process what’s happening. 

All of a sudden, Gluttony begins to make a funny sound, and then his body swells up like a balloon. He lets out a pained groan and his skin begins to split open, his body seeming to tear apart from the inside.

Al takes a staggering step back and blood spurts from the creature’s wounds, spattering the ground and the boy’s armor alike. Gluttony begins to writhe, letting out a series of horrible, choking noises. He collapses to the ground and begins rolling, his body twisting, his stomach splitting open; the Eye of Truth appears again in its center. 

As the creature vomits up a pool of blood with a wet retch, a pair of huge, monstrous green arms burst from its stomach. They grip the sides of the stomach that surround them, seeming to pry the walls away from each other to make room for what’s inside to come out.

There is a swirl of gray smoke and a spurt of blood, and then four slimy bodies come sliding from the creature’s gut, each coated in a thick layer of blood.

It’s so thick, in fact, that Al can’t even make out who they are at first. But then he hears a pair of pained groans, and he can feel his jointed knees get weak.

Because he’d recognize those voices anywhere—his family is back!

※※※

Blood drips from your clothes and your hair, creating a slick puddle that grows along the marble floor beneath you.

Groaning, you attempt to extricate yourself from the pile of bodies that you’re in, letting out a grunt as an elbow slams into your side. Your hands slip along the bloody floor and you fall back into the tangle of limbs, nearly knocking the wind out of yourself.

But you don’t have to struggle for long. You hear a wonderfully familiar voice shout your name, and then you and Ed are being neatly but firmly extracted from the pile.

Your armored brother crushes the two of you tightly against his chest, and you can feel your face squishing against the cold metal as he holds you both close.

Everything is happening so fast, and you’re barely able to keep up. The lingering Truth still flashes behind your eye, which throbs and pulses in pain with every beat of your heart. 

You blink up at the armored boy above you, and then manage to wrench your head to the side to see Ed, who has the same haunted look behind his gaze. 

But as his eyes meet yours and Al loosens his grip, you can see the flames of determination being stoked brighter. “...If we’re here… and Al’s back in his armor…!” he murmurs, hardley seeming to believe it; “...then that means it worked! Echo, we did it!”

You can feel a smile begin to break out over your face as the scent of something other than blood fills your nostrils for the first time in what feels like forever. You note that it smells strongly of metal and rust, but you’re too focused on the relief of being back in the real world to pay it much mind.

As Al lowers you and Ed back to the ground, he collapses to his knees before the two of you. “I’m sorry!” he begs your forgiveness, lowering his head to the ground. “I’m so sorry, you guys! I tried to save you but I—I thought you guys were dead!”

Ed places his palm on the boy’s lowered head, and you reach out and grip his shoulder. “We’re sorry that we worried you,” he tells the boy solemnly, and you nod, biting your lip. 

“We were worried about you, too, you know,” you tell him. “We never stopped thinking about you the whole time we were in there!” Al lifts his face up to you and Ed, you can imagine tears running down the helmet.

“You guys are covered in blood!” he frets, his hands floating around the two of you anxiously. “Are you okay?!”

You sigh and scratch the back of your neck. “It’s not ours,” you tell him, gesturing to your shirt vaguely. “It’s… a long story.”

Ed takes a step back and looks around. “Where, exactly, did we wind up?” he questions, and you take in the odd room around you. The whole thing seems like a giant machine, cogs grinding along the walls and pistons pumping as the whole room ticks quietly like a clock, outlined by the faint hum of machinery.

“Well, this is surprising!” remarks a familiar voice from the shadows behind you, and you whirl around. A man’s tall figure walks through the shadows to approach you and the boys. 

You recognize him as he steps into the light a few feet away. He has his hand on his bearded chin, his loose blonde hair swinging around his shoulders. “People, emerging from Gluttony’s stomach!”

You can feel Ed stiffen at your side as he takes the sight in. “What the—?! Hohenheim?!”

The man stares down at you, his body and hair bleached nearly white in the pale light that radiates from above. He’s the same man you’d seen briefly only weeks ago, but something about him seems so… different from the man you’d seen that day; as if this was someone else entirely who simply shared the same face.

He stares down at you and the boys with a cold, appraising expression, his face perfectly devoid of emotion. “Steel appendages,” he murmurs to himself, taking the three of you in. “A missing eye, and an armored body!” He tilts his head in a vague curiosity.

Then in an instant—despite the distance that once separated you—he is there, leaning over you and Ed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. You stagger back at his sudden proximity, reeling at his speed. “Are you Echo and the Elric brothers?” he asks you, genuinely not seeming to recognize you.

Ed takes a step back with you, extending his hand to hold the man at bay. “So… you’re really not—?” He cuts himself off, seeming thoroughly rattled by the stranger who shares his father’s features.

Not that you can blame him—you’re confused too.

“Hmm?” the man intones thoughtfully, leaning back and turning his gaze away. “Have you mistaken me for someone else?” He tilts his head to the side again. “Wait, hold on. Ho…hen… ” He repeats the man’s name slowly, as if needing to feel the way that it rolls off his tongue. Then he whirls to you again, pointing his finger toward Ed. His hand is nearly the size of the boy’s whole face. “By any chance—that name you just said, do you mean Van Hohenheim?” he demands. “How are the three of you acquainted with him?” 

Behind you, you can hear Al lower his head slightly. “Well,” he admits to the man; “He’s our father!”

He turns his attention on you, suddenly lunging forward to grip your face in both hands. His skin is like ice as he tilts your head from side to side, seeming to admire your features as he takes you in from all angles. “He’s your father?” he demands, squishing your cheeks together in his grip. “This is indeed surprising! I had no idea he had children!” He begins to laugh, splitting his gaze between you and Ed. “And they look so different from each other, too! How incredible!”

You swat his hands off of you, stepping back out of his grip as Ed glowers up at the man. “Not me!” you huff, wiping off your cheek with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of his cold, lingering touch. “Them!”

The man’s mouth falls open into a small ‘o’ , and he turns his attention back toward Ed and Al. “But if you are indeed his progeny,” he presses, “then why is your family name Elric?”

Ed takes a small step in front of you, clearing having disliked seeing the man’s hands on you. “Elric is our mother’s last name!” he spits, shooting you a glance to ask if you’re okay.

You give him a little nod as the man opens his mouth to speak again. “So…” he drawls, still stroking his beard. “Where has he been spending his time?”

Ed slashes his arm through the air. “Who cares?” he demands, thrusting his own metal finger toward the man in defiance. “Just forget him—who the hell are you? And why do you look exactly like him?!”

The man turns to stare into the middle distance again, stroking his beard and acting as if Ed hadn’t spoken a word. “I know he can’t be dead…” he muses to himself as Ed begins to throw a fit at being ignored. “But to think that he has children…”

The blonde boy is waving his arms in the air angrily as Al leans forward to be heard over his yelling. “You guys,” he tells you urgently. “This guy is the one who—!”

But his words are cut off as a sharp exclamation of pain shoots from Ed’s lips, having accidentally banged his wounded arm into his brother’s metal armor. He clutches the splinted limb to his chest and your own hands hover nearby, anxious to help, although there’s nothing that you can do.

The cry of pain seems to distract the blonde man and he turns back to your group, his hand leaving his chin for the first time as he appraises you all. “It appears that the two of you are injured,” he observes, taking in the various wounds you’d acquired from your recent fights. He turns to Al. “And you’re missing your left hand, aren’t you?”

He steps forward toward the armored boy, whose gauntlet-less arm is extended forward. He places his palm against the hollow metal, and a red light flashes through the air. There is a crackling sound, and when he pulls back his hand, a perfectly new gauntlet is left in its place, attached seamlessly as he transmutes the metal out of thin air.

“There,” he says to Al, who gapes at his new limb in disbelief; “How is that for you?”

He turns his attention next on Ed, grabbing his splinted arm in a seemingly gentle grip. “Your arm is broken,” he observes and there is another flash of bright light.

Ed yanks his arm back defensively, but a strange look crosses his face. He glances down at his human arm and then yanks off the splint, wiggling his fingers in disbelief. 

Next, the man turns to you, laying his huge palm on the top of your head; the gesture reminds you of Teacher’s husband, Sig—a huge man who liked to mess up your hair beneath his meaty hand. He turns to you with an intrigued look on his face, and you feel your stomach sink as you wonder what damage he’s sensing in you. 

“How interesting,” is all that he says, and you shut your eye against the bright flash of light above you.

There is an intensely itchy, ticklish sensation as you can feel the wounds on your body begin to knit closed. Your body tingles as the unearthly healing alchemy runs through you, and you can’t help but notice that it seems to quite intentionally avoid only the damage you had done to yourself.

He releases his hand from your head and your eye flies open. You stumble backward, colliding with Al, who places his steadying hands on your shoulders.

The boys begin patting themselves down, marveling at the fact that he’d managed to revitalize them so efficiently. But you narrow your eye at the blonde man in suspicion, wondering just who this guy was supposed to be.

You recall the flash of red light and Envy’s comment about being supposedly having the ability to heal humans (although he might’ve been simply messing with you; you can’t exactly tell when it comes to him). You wonder if this blonde man is the Father that he’d spoken about.

As if confirming your words, he looks down at you and the boys, the light above harshly illuminating his face. “I consider the three of you to be vital resources,” he informs you, and the boys glance up at him warily. “You must all remain alive and healthy.”

Ed leans in closer to you and Al. “This isn’t right, you guys!” he says urgently in a curt whisper. “He performed a transmutation without any movement at all!”

Al leans in too. “And he didn’t even thin out my armor!”

You grit your teeth, cutting your attention between the boys by your side and the blonde man staring down at you. “There’s no equivalent exchange!” you hiss.

Off to the side, Ling tightens his grip on his sword, having been left out of the little healing party. “You aren’t human!” he snarls, pointing his blade toward the man. “What are you?! What the hell is this that I can sense inside you?!”

The man doesn’t turn to move, but his eyes dart to the side, where he pins the dark-haired teen beneath his gaze. The cold weight of it is not directed toward you, but you can still feel yourself shiver beneath it. “I would ask who you are,” he tells the boy in a freezing tone, “but I honestly don’t care!”

Sweat rolls down the teen’s face as he’s pinned beneath the full force of the man’s freezing stare. Finally, the man turns, walking toward Envy and Gluttony where they wait in the distance behind the man. “You can go ahead and eat him,” he informs the fat homunculus, waving his hand dismissively over his shoulder.

As Gluttony begins to cheer, Ed lets out a harsh cry. “No, hold on!” he shouts, dashing over to stand near the boy. You and Al follow close behind him, joining forces to stand protectively nearby. “Don’t!” he yells, spreading his hands in a reasoning gesture at the man’s back. “This guy is our friend! You want to keep us happy, right? So don’t kill him—please!”

But the blonde man does not even pause his retreating footsteps. “But I have no need for him!” he calls over his shoulder, his voice ringing out in the empty air around as Gluttony slowly begins to approach. “Your friendship doesn’t make him any less useless to me!”

Al takes advantage of the moment of silence. “You guys,” he hisses to you and Ed urgently. “The homunculi keep calling this guy their Father! I think he’s the one who created them!”

Ed seems taken aback, but you only nod grimly, your earlier suspicions confirmed. “Envy mentioned something like that, too,” you grit out.

Al lowers his defensive stance just slightly, not even seeming to realize that he’s done it. “He did heal our wounds, though,” he points out.

Before you can respond, Ling comes staggering out from behind you, clutching his ribs in pain. “He didn’t heal mine, though!” he snaps, raising his blade again. “I don’t like him! I can tell that he looks down on humans and calls us fools!”

The man known as “Father” turns, pinning Ling beneath his stare again, but there is no malice behind his eyes; only cold, hard fact. “When you see an insect on the ground,” he says to the boy; “...do you stop to consider it a fool?” He shakes his head. “No,” he says coldly. “The life of an insect is so far below you that you wouldn’t even consider judging it. That would be an accurate summation of my feelings toward you humans!”

The image of the ruined stone tablet from Xerxes flashes behind your eye, the words “I will strike down God and become a Perfect Being” ringing through your memory. 

You grit your teeth up at the man. Scar had a lot of pretty things to say about alchemists playing God, you recall; but this man truly did seem to believe himself to be on the same level as the deity that you’d met.

Ed claps his hands, transmuting the stone ground into a series of sharp spikes, which he sends rolling toward the man.

He only blinks impassively back at the four of you, not having to move to transmute a stone wall before him to block the blow. “Look,” spits Ed, clenching his fist in front of him angrily. “You might have healed our wounds, but that does not make us friends! It’s pretty apparent that you’re the root of all this evil! We’re taking you down—I don’t care how many cronies you’ve got!”

Envy sneers from nearby. “Just who’re you calling a ‘crony’, Pipsqueak?”

Ed bristles. “Pipsqueak?!” he demands, then claps his hands onto a nearby exposed wire. The thick band courses through the air, coiling around Father’s body like a snake, but he blasts the blow away, freeing himself with nothing but a thought.

Envy leaps forward with a kick and you transmute a hasty fighting staff to block the blow aimed for the blonde at your side. You can hear Ed directing another blow toward Father as you redistribute your transmuted material, shortening the staff in your hand and crafting a flail in its place. You swing the weapon in circles at your side, gaining momentum as you and Envy eye each other up and down.

You can hear Ling yelling as he strikes out a blow, and Al is shouting in confusion.

You cast a peek at Father over Envy’s shoulder; the man sighs and steps forward.

“This is a waste of time!” he declares, and then a blast of red energy shoots off of him like a wave.

It passes over you with the same sensation as reconnecting your automail—a complete and total onslaught of your nerve endings. A gust of wind blows your hair back away from your face.

When the light fades from the room, you feel like part of you is missing. Clapping your hands together, you’re horrified to feel absolutely nothing rising inside of you, where you’d normally feel your alchemy swirling at your call.

Shaking your head in disbelief and staring down at your hands, you try again, and again—but still, your power is still and silent inside of you, as if trapped behind a locked door.

Glancing over at Ed and Al by your side, you find them equally as helpless as you.

But suddenly, you become aware of the press of metal at the small of your back, and realization begins to wash over you.

Because you’re not helpless, you realize—not exactly. 

You feel Ed and Al’s eyes heavy on you as you draw the gun that Hawkeye had given you from your waistband, pointing it with shaking hands at Father. 

The metal is warm from your body heat and unfamiliar in your grip as you take aim between the blonde man’s brows. You take a deep breath, taking a moment to reflect back on your weapons training. You don’t allow yourself to hesitate, thinking only of keeping your companions safe as you pull the trigger. 

But the single bullet goes flying in some random direction as you’re suddenly yanked backward by Envy. He’s grabbing you roughly in both hands, a second pair of huge, green limbs sprouting from his back and pinning Ed and Al to the floor. He wrenches the gun from your grip with hands that are like iron, twisting your arms behind your back roughly with one hand and grabbing your chin with the other, forcing your gaze ahead at Ling, who is tackled eagerly to the ground by Gluttony.

The homunculus sits on the slim teen’s back, and he wheezes below his weight. First, he pulls the sword from the sprawled boy’s hands, chomping down on the solid metal as if it’s nothing more than soft cheese, polishing off the blade in just a few quick bites.

You flail against Envy’s grip, but it’s like a vice, keeping you trapped in place. You flail your head back, trying to ram him in the teeth with your skull but he leans away with an amused laugh. “You rat bastard!” you snarl at him from between clenched teeth. “What’s going on here?! You promised to tell us everything if we got you out of there!”

Envy laughs again, the sound low in his throat. “Hmm? I would never go and say something as foolish as that—how ridiculous!”

You toss your head again, eyeing the gun lying on the ground nearby. “You’re a filthy liar!” you hiss, spitting hair out of your mouth. 

Father turns to you, a small dent between his brows. “Please, child,” he urges you, raising one hand in front of him in a hush ing gesture. “There’s no need for all this shouting. You see… your friend may prove to be rather useful to me after all!”

He turns toward Ling, still pinned on his stomach beneath Gluttony, who is eyeing him eagerly and licking his lips. “After all,” he continues, his eyes cold and expressionless as he brings one finger up to his own forehead; “I could always use a new pawn in the rotation!”

He taps his forehead and the finely-wrinkled skin splits open open at his touch, a small version of the Eye of Truth sliding open vertically on its surface. Something like blood begins to well up in the eye, pooling in its lower corner in a heavy bead.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the familiar red liquid. “Is that—?”

“...A Philosopher’s Stone!” Al’s voice is steady against the freezing air in the room, despite Envy’s massive arm pinning him down.

Behind you, the green-haired homunculus looks up at Father. “You’re really going to do that?” he questions in disbelief as the man gathers the liquid drop onto the tip of his index finger.

“Do what?” snaps Ed below you, and can hear the smile in the other teen’s voice as he responds:

“Why, he’s going to make another homunculus, of course!”

His words are so jarring that you go still in his cold grip, and he begins to explain. “The Stone is added to the bloodstream. If it is able to merge, then a human-based homunculus is created!” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he says his next words: “...But it’s more common for the Stone to overpower the subject and kill them, instead!”

You watch in horror as Father steps up to Ling slowly, the red droplet poised on the tip of his finger. You begin fighting against Envy’s grip again as Gluttony peels a bandage off of the Xingese boy’s cheek, exposing a fresh cut to the air above.

“No!” shouts Ed, and you can hear his automail scraping against the ground as he flails his pinned limbs. “I’m not gonna let you do this to him!”

You twist your wrists in the vice grip behind you, not even the unnatural strength of your automail enough to overpower it. Rotating your hands together, you clap them a few times, desperately hoping to feel your alchemical control welling inside you; but still, there is nothing. Only an empty coldness heeds your call.

As you watch Ling writhe against Gluttony’s weight, you can see Lan Fan’s sweaty, injured face flash behind your eye. “Please, stop!” you beg the bearded man. “You can’t do this! He has people waiting for him to come home!”

Grunting with effort, Ling manages to wrench his head around to face the two of you. “No—it’s okay!” he groans, and you’re shocked to see a determined grin on his face. “This is exactly what I want, so you guys just stay out of it!”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Are you crazy?!” you demand.

You can only assume that he has, indeed, gone completely and totally crazy, since he even goes so far as to shoot you a wink. “I came to your land to find a Philosopher’s Stone,” he grunts; “And now this guy wants to give me one! I’m not gonna turn this down!”

“Well!” You can’t see Father’s face from where he stands above Ling, but you can hear the vague surprise in his voice from his words. “This is surprising! But we’ll see if your body is as willing as your mind!”

And with that, he drops the bead from his finger, where it plummets onto the wound on Ling’s cheek below.

You cry out in despair as you watch the droplet wriggle like a living being, worming its way into the cut and disappearing into the boy’s body, which begins to jerk violently. Red sparks shoot from his skin and you watch his eyes roll back into his head.

Thrashing as hard as you can against Envy’s cold hands at your wrists, at your face, you don’t even realize that there are tears streaming down your cheek.

Gluttony rises up off of the boy’s back at Father’s instruction, but Ling makes no attempt to rise to his feet, his body twisting and contorting in pain. His limbs jut out at odd angles, his fingers bending backward, back arching. 

You hear Ed calling out for him, and the Xingese boy’s response comes back as a contorted hiss. “I told you to stay out of it!” he wheezes, and all you can see of his eyes is the white and red as his pupils roll back into his skull. “Don’t you dare interfere!”

Envy’s hand is firm on your chin, keeping your gaze locked forward, preventing you from looking away, but he can’t stop you from squeezing your eye shut. You do so eagerly, unable to bear the sight of the boy suffering for another second. 

But you have no way of shutting off your hearing, and his agonized screams paint a perfect picture in your brain. “Stay back!” Ling rasps in a wet gurgle. “I promise I know what I’m doing! You’re dealing with the future leader of Xing, Ling Yao—!”

His words are cut off by a wet choking sound and you know that he’s vomiting up blood.

His screams begin to crescendo, and you can hear the sparking intensify. But you keep your eye glued shut, hot tears still streaming down your cheek.

You don’t open it again until all the noise finally comes to an end, silence filling the room at long last, save for the faint ticking of the walls.

You find Ling upright on his knees, his back bent in a painful arc, ponytail brushing the floor. His shirt falls open around his bare chest, the buttons popped in the chaos.

You watch as he begins to lean forward, coming to a kneeling position and rubbing the back of his neck with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“...Ling?” asks Ed hesitantly, and the boy’s head shoots in his direction.

He opens his mouth, and a voice that is not his comes spilling out from his lips. “What?” he asks, and you recognize that voice—the man had nearly killed you, after all! 

“Ah, you mean the guy I took this body from?” replies Greed, a smile splitting Ling’s face as he begins to unwind the bandages on his hand, revealing the tattoo emblazoned on the back. “Sorry, but your friend has just checked out, and left me this body!”

※※※

Greed scratches the back of his neck as he peers down at Ed and Al, still pinned beneath Envy’s extra set of arms.

“So, are you the same Greed from before?” Ed pushes, eyeing the new homunculus warily.

“Huh?” he responds, tilting his head to the side. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

You gulp at him. “You… you don’t remember us?”

“From Dublith?” continues Al, and Greed points a finger at him.

“Ah, you must’ve met some different Greed!” he says, like that explains anything, and Father turns to him from where he had stepped to the side. 

“He was my Avarice before you,” he explains to the homunculus, who nods in understanding. 

“Ah, I gotcha!” he responds casually, scratching the back of his neck again. “That makes sense.” He turns to Ed. “But if you wanna hear it from me: No, I’m not the Greed you knew.”

You can hear the hurt in Ed’s voice as he whimpers his next words. “But, Ling…”

The creature inhabiting your friend turns to the side with a sly smirk. “Well, he was an interesting kid!” he admits, tilting his head to the side. “He gave up his body without any fight at all!”

“You’re lying!” spits Ed, gritting his teeth. “Ling would never give up and surrender himself so easily! Answer me, Ling—are you in there?! Ling? Ling!”

But Greed only begins to laugh, a dark chuckle falling from Ling’s foreign lips.

Suddenly, before he can respond, the door swings open against the far wall, illuminating the dark area in light.

Everyone in the room glances to see who it is, and Envy loosens his grip on your chin just enough that you are able to turn your head to see as well.

Much to your surprise, standing in the doorway are Scar and the little girl in pink from before.

Her eyes seem to zero in on Xiao Mei clinging to Al’s faceplate, and then her attention shifts to Father. Suddenly, she begins to cower, clutching Scar’s jacket as she ducks behind him. “That feeling…!” she calls out to the Ishvalan man, her voice quaking in fear. “...It’s coming from that man! He’s a human… but also not!”

Scar grits his teeth, stepping forward. “No,” he agrees; “He’s certainly not!”

Suddenly, Xiao Mei dashes across the room in a streak of black-and-white lightning, leaping onto the little girl’s chest in a hug. 

She holds the tiny creature close to her heart in delight, squealing, “Xiao Mei! Oh, thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been so worried about you!”

You realize that this must be the “Mei Chang” that the tiny panda’s bracelet had mentioned, and that she’s the creature’s true owner.

You’re sure that Al is going to be very sad that he has to give her up, but you’re happy that she found her way back to her rightful owner.

But now is not the time for all of that, of course, as Greed begins clapping his hands dramatically at the show. “Aw,” he drawls sarcastically; “Now that is a touching reunion, right there!”

Scar steps forward, the light silhouetting him from behind. “They’ve also got Fullmetal and Smokebomb,” he grits out, and Mei stops preening over the tiny panda. 

She steps forward, peering around the room eagerly. “Where is he?” she asks him, tugging on his coat. “Where is Mister Edward?”

Scar points at the blonde by your side, and you eye the little girl, wondering why she’s so curious about your friend. 

But she doesn't seem to notice him, her eyes passing right over him as she scans the room again. “...He’s not really here, is he?” she presses, glancing back at Scar.

But Scar only doubles down, pointing more clearly at Ed. “I told you,” grunts Scar. “He’s right there! That little guy is the Fullmetal Alchemist!”

Even pinned beneath Envy’s weight and in dire straits, the blonde boy still prickles at the insult to his height, letting off a few grumbles as you watch Mei Chang lock her gaze onto the blonde boy.

You’re not sure what she was expecting, but she doesn’t appear to like what she sees. “How dare you toy with the feelings of a maiden, you human mudworm?!” she bellows, heartbroken, tears bursting from her eyes, causing you, Ed, and Al to all stare at her in shock.

“Who even are you?!” you burst out.

“What did you call me, mudworm girl?!” hollers Ed, and Al turns to him, aghast. 

“Brother!” he scolds, and you can hear Father and Gluttony discussing something nearby. “Don’t you know that’s not how you talk to a little girl?!”

The three of you begin to argue, but Envy is quick to cut you off. “Go ahead and eat him!” he tells Gluttony, jerking his chin toward Scar. “He doesn’t have his alchemy to stop you right now!”

“Okay!” agrees Gluttony, delighted, and he launches himself at Scar, flying through the air faster than should be possible.

But the Ishvalan flexes his hand, and when Gluttony crashes down in front of him, he plants his palm to the homunculus’ chest. There is a flash of blue sparks, and Gluttony lets out a pained moan.      

Meanwhile, Mei points at Ed in despair, wailing, “You’ll pay for this! You deceived an innocent girl!” Tears pool in her eyes and you decide that you really don’t like her attitude. She grits her teeth and pulls a series of kunai from her sleeves. “You can and will pay!” she shouts, and launches the knives into a rock close to where Envy has the three of you pinned. “You’ll suffer for what you’ve done! All of you!!”

As she sketches a quick transmutation circle in the dirt at her feet, you recall her little trick at the trainyard and struggle to get away, but Envy is still holding you firm.

That is, until the girl completes her transmutation and a huge stone fist comes slamming into Envy’s side, knocking him off of you and the boys and sending the three of you flying.

You manage to land on your feet beside the boys, your ankles prickling on impact. The three of you exchange a glance, and you smile at each other, still happy to be back together again. “It’s about time!” groans Ed, and the three of you clap your hands down on the ground together.

…But still, no sensation of power rises up in your chest.

You stare down at your mismatched hands on the ground, bewildered. Glancing up, you see the boys at your side in the same boat.

And so the three of you begin booking it, you taking the chance to scoop up your fallen gun on the way by, tucking it back into your waistband as you run.

“Our alchemy is still not working!” points out Al, and you don’t have the breath to be sarcastic about the helpfulness of the observation. 

“But why is theirs?!” spits Ed, and the three of you crouch behind a boulder nearby. You can hear sparking sounds as Envy reassumes his monstrous form, his hulking head staring down at the two intruders.

“I don’t understand!” you huff, leaning against Al’s chestplate as you struggle to catch your breath. “How are they able to transmute when we can’t?!”

“I don’t know,” Ed huffs back, just as breathless. “I have no idea.” He furrows his brows, staring forward determinedly. “But I think this is our chance to turn things around!”

Suddenly, before you can stop him, he dashes out from behind the rock, running toward the two alchemists. “Scar!” he shouts, and you reach your hand out to grab him, but he’s already out of reach. So instead you follow after him, Al plowing ahead behind you, and the two of you stand by his side as he points ahead at the Ishvalan.

“You wanna know who started the war in Ishval?!” he hollers. “The truth about who shot that child and started the uprising!”

He points his finger toward Envy, who tosses his greasy black hair from his horse-like face with disdain. “He’s standing right there!” Ed tells him, and Scar’s eyes go wide. “It was Envy, disguised as a soldier!”

“It’s true!” you yell, waving your arms. “He told us about it himself! Bragged about it! These guys right here orchestrated the entire war!” You gesture to him and Father, and you watch Scar’s red gaze shift to dart between the two.

He lets out a low rumble in his throat, somewhere between a hum and a growl. He locks his gaze onto Father, who stares back at him apathetically. “I’d like to hear more details about this…!” he growls, raising his arm slowly. “...in between your screaming!”

Gluttony rears up behind him, leaping forward with a crazed yell. Mei lets out a shout of distress but Scar doesn’t even need to turn around; he simply extends his hand backward and plants his palm on the creature’s forehead. With a bright blue blast, the creature is sent sailing backwards.

The girl begins to back away from the Ishvalan she’d entered with, seeming disturbed by the dark look on his face. “Now tell me,” he spits, his voice a guttural growl; “For what purpose did you choose to slaughter my people?!” He glares at Father, but the man does not respond. “Depending on your answer, I’ll send you to join God!”

Then, he shakes his head. “No!” he shouts suddenly, blue sparks flying from his hand as he steps toward Father. “You don’t deserve to stand alongside God with my fallen brothers and sisters! Your only solace from my wrath will be damnation!”

He raises his hand and strikes the ground, sending the entire floor bucking with the shattering force of the blow; you and most of the others in the room go flying with the force of the roiling tiles beneath you.

You and Ed go flying one way and Al and Scar go another.

You push yourself up from the shattered marble beneath you, coughing in the dusty haze that fills the air, clogging your nose and filling your lungs. Suddenly, Ed is pulling you upright by the arm, and the two of you are staring at Greed, who pauses in his run forward to peer at the two of you curiously.

“Ling,” hisses Ed, gritting his teeth and taking a small step forward. “I know you’re still in there!”

But Greed only smiles up at him, the expression too malicious on the Xingese boys typically goofy face. “Nope!” he sings. “Only Greed!”

※※※

Just like before, the two of you are battling against Greed, except that it’s nothing like before and everything about it is different.

Ed’s bare metal foot connects with Greed/Ling’s chest—you were right about him eating his boot, it seems—but the teen does not budge, only laughing at the blonde boy as he staggers back.

“That was a solid kick!” he praises. “This should be more fun than I expected!”

This time around, you’re weak from hunger and covered in half-dried blood, and you have no alchemy to speak of to defend yourself with. 

You’re not as strong as the boys are, physically—you never have been. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you train, you can never hope to fully measure up to a man when it comes to physical combat—much to your chagrin. A weapon or a smokescreen help to even the terrain, but there’s only so much you can do in hand-to-hand combat.

But you’re small, and you’re fast, and you’re a hard target to hit, so you duck and weave in circles around the boy, mimicking the defensive way you’d seen Lan Fan move when you’d fought her in Central.

As you dart in and out, striking out blows, Ed draws in to make a tighter circle around the boy, his rotation moving opposite to yours, making it impossible for him to keep track of both of you at once. 

You each take advantage of his distraction as he lashes out at the other, darting in to strike a blow before ducking back out before he can strike back.

“You give Ling his body back, now!” you huff, dodging a blow and gritting your teeth as Ed lashes out at Greed’s back. “I know he’s still in there! He’s the biggest freeloader I’ve ever met—I know he’s clinging to that body somewhere!”

But he’s fast, and the maneuver only works for so long.

Soon, the three of you break apart into a flurry of blows and dodges, and you catch a punch straight to the mouth.

You feel your teeth clack together and blood dribbles from your lips down your chin, its metallic tang filling your mouth and nose. Running your tongue over your teeth, you’re relieved to find them all in place.

With an angry roar, Ed swoops in from behind, sweeping the teen’s legs out from under him. 

Greed falls onto his back with a woosh of air from his lips, and you plant your foot on his chest as Ed stares angrily down at him; you wipe blood from your mouth with the back of your hand, spitting a mouthful of the stuff out onto the floor nearby.

“Give up already, you idiot!” Ed yells, lashing out at the boy you have pinned on the ground, whose comes up and blocks the blow. “And what about your country?” He wrenches his fist back. “Have you forgotten all about Lan Fan?!” he snarls, and strikes again, and this time, the homunculus falters.

Ed’s fist connects with his face, and blood trickles out from the corner of his mouth as he stares sideways at him with a hateful look in his red eyes.

You take in a tiny breath—are we starting to get through to him?—but then he grabs Ed’s arm and shifts their weight so that he has the boy in an arm-lock, his Ultimate Shield snaking up his arms and shoulders.

You shout angrily, taking in the situation. There’s not much you can do, and you’re not the strongest fighter, but you’re pretty sure that you see an opportunity and you’re going to take it.

Leaning forward, you grab the dark-haired teen by the ponytail and yank his head back, pulling it to the side to tilt his head.

Before he can react, you lean forward and sink your teeth as hard as you can into his ear. Your pearly whites sink through flesh and crunch through cartilage, and hot blood fills your mouth.

The homunculus howls in pain and releases his grip on the boy, and you yank your head back, tearing the ear clean from his head.

You spit the ear onto the ground at your side and wipe blood from your mouth, and suddenly Greed is in front of you. He has Ed in one fist by the ponytail, and he backhands you hard across the face with the other.

“Fucking bitch!” he snaps at you, grabbing you roughly by the back of the neck and shoving you to your knees on the ground. “That hurt!”

You grit your teeth up at him and open your mouth to respond, but your jaws clang together as Greed chucks Ed into you, sending the two of you sprawled on top of each other on the ground. 

He then sits down on Ed’s back, fully crushing the two of you beneath his body weight as he rubs at his regrowing ear, glaring down at you. “Damn bitch bit my ear off!” he spits, and then turns to call over his shoulder. “Pops! I caught them for you!”

Father walks over, his hands folded inside his pristine white robes. “Upstairs, now,” he commands, staring down at Greed. “I want them taken directly to Wrath.”

Suddenly, Envy’s giant eight-limbed form ambles through the doorway, clutching Al, Scar, and Mei Chang in his grip. “Man,” he grumbles, presenting his bundle at Father’s feet; “You guys sure made a mess in here!” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, the many faces on his neck swaying with the motion. “If you had simply behaved yourselves, then we would have let you go a long time ago!”

Greed shoves you and Ed to your feet, grabbing both of your automail arms together in one large hand like they’re two toothpicks. The two of you stumble against each other as he shoves you toward the staircase. “Up,” he sneers at you. “Now!”

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

Envy leads you and the boys down the long, winding halls, his bare feet padding quietly along the metal floor.

As you reach the end of the corridor, he presses a button, and an elevator door slides open. As he steps inside, you and the boys hesitate, crossing your arms and shooting a suspicious glare at the teen homunculus. “Where are you taking us?” you demand, but he only glares back at you. He crosses his own arms, mimicking your body language without seeming to realize he’s doing it.

“Just shut up and get in,” is all he grumbles, and then he leans against the cold metal wall inside, propping one foot up against it casually.

You and the brothers exchange a wary glance, but it doesn’t seem that you have much of a choice. You are the first one to step into the elevator, pressing yourself into the far corner away from Envy, who only rolls his eyes.

※※※

The trip up is long, and you spend it in silence. Envy transforms his appearance with a flash of red; by the time the elevator door opens with a ding, he has taken on the form of an innocuous soldier in uniform, his face perfectly average and forgettable.

As you all exit the elevator, you take in the opulent hallway, something about the interior seeming familiar. “Is this—?” begins Ed, and you all rush over to the window nearby, peering out at the grounds below.

“We’re inside Central Command!” you breathe. “We were directly underneath!”

“Hey!” snaps Envy the soldier, and the three of you turn toward him, where he is scowling down at you. “You’re caked in blood and filth. You need to bathe!”

※※※

The shower in Central Command, it turns out, only gets to about lukewarm. 

You stand beneath the weak spray, letting the blood-soaked water drip down from your hair. It runs down your back and over your feet before swirling down the drain.

You’re so grateful for the opportunity to finally get clean that you don’t even mind the tepid water. You drag the bar of soap through your wet, heavy hair, working up a red lather as you scrub the dried blood and filth out from your locks.

Your mind swirls with all that’s happened recently. You can still hardly believe that Führer Bradley is a homunculus. Given the elevator straight to Father’s lair right here in Central Command, the whole military could be in on this conspiracy, for all you know!

As you scrub at your wrists and arms, you reflect back on your fight with Gluttony, on the time you’d spent in the creature’s stomach.

You recall the many days you’d spent with only Envy by your side for company, the many hours that you’d spent talking.

You’d honestly begun to feel a sort of connection to the boy after so much time together, finding that his crass personality could be charming, and his sarcastic comments were often quite funny. You had begun to feel an odd sort of kinship, as though there was potential for a more genuine connection, given the time. There was a familiarity between the two of you, as if you could see pieces of yourself reflected back at you from within him—although you couldn’t for the life of you say what you were recognizing.

But then he’d revealed the truth about the Ishvalan war, and had showed you his monstrous true form, and now you’re not sure just how you feel.

You think about the vision that you’d had of the chained figure, and you wonder if it really was the homunculus that they were referring to. You shudder as you recall their words about the damage that he’d supposedly done to himself.

Why would a creature that claimed to feel nothing but jealousy do something like that? Surely it wasn’t just jealousy over the simple pain, otherwise he wouldn’t go to such lengths.

No, it had to be something more, something deeper.

Involuntarily, your thoughts begin to turn inward, toward yourself, and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind of the unwelcome introspection.

You decide to think about other things. Your thoughts run in circles, connecting odd ends with each other, tied together only by loose strings. 

You think about Ling Yao, now turned into Greed. You think about the little girl in pink that you’d seen at Scar’s side. You think about the way that Father had healed all the wounds on your body except for the cuts on your legs. You think about Envy’s comment about homunculus saliva, and you can feel your cheeks begin to warm at the memory.

Scowling, you begin to scrub at your legs, wiping away caked-on blood, avoiding your wounds and shaking your head to clear it. You turn your thoughts instead to what’s ahead of you. 

Father had mentioned taking you to see someone named “Wrath”, but you don’t know who that is. You have a guess, of course—given where you are—but you’ll wait until you see who it is to confirm it.

Before you can delve too deeply into your thoughts, you hear a pounding on the bathroom door. “Hurry it up in there!” hollers Envy through the door, and you shoot a hateful glare over your shoulder in its direction.

“You’re going to have to wait!” you shout back petulantly. “I’m covered in enough blood to feed a small army of vampires!”

He bangs on the door again, the metal rattling against the doorframe. “We don’t have all day!” he shouts. “We’re already running late for a meeting!”

“Too fucking bad!” you sneer back. “What are you going to do, come in here and drag me out? I’m naked, you know!”

Only silence meets your bold dare, and you raise your chin in the air in haughty victory. Then, you plop down onto your butt on the shower floor, taking the washcloth to your feet and beginning to scrub dried blood from beneath your toenails.

※※※

You and the boys follow the disguised Envy down the halls of Central Command. Your clothes had been shredded and soaked in blood and filth, so you and Ed had been given some spares that were scrounged up. With the two of you being so much smaller than the average soldier, none of them fit you particularly well—they didn’t even make military uniforms in your size or Ed’s, so neither of you had ever been issued a set. The collar of the long-sleeve shirt hangs awkwardly off your metal shoulder, the sleeves dragging over your hands. The pants are baggy and loose, and Envy had needed to dig up a belt for you to cinch them to your small waist.

As the pseudo-soldier leads the way, Ed and Al lean in close to you. “Don’t look now,” whispers Ed, keeping his voice low enough that Envy can’t hear him, “but do you remember that little girl from before?” When you give a small nod, peeking at him warily, he shoots a subtle glare at his brother. “Al here decided to take her with us inside his armor!”

You keep your head locked forward but you shoot your eye toward your brother in disbelieving exasperation. “Why?” you hiss quietly.

“She was injured!” Al whispers defensively, and you imagine sweat dripping down his face. “What was I supposed to do?! Just leave her there?”

Suddenly, Envy stops before a set of wooden double doors and turns to you with a glare. “Hey!” he shouts.

Panicking, you and the boys leap apart and stand stiffly at attention.

The homunculus eyes you warily but doesn’t make a comment. “Wrath will take over babysitting you now,” he explains, and pulls open the doors, stepping through and jerking his chin over his shoulder for you guys to follow. “Right this way!”

Gritting your teeth, you and the boys exchange an affirming glance before stepping through the doorway.

Inside, you see the Führer and Colonel Mustang seated together at a round table. You glance around for Lieutenant Hawkeye, knowing that wherever the Colonel goes, she goes; but shockingly, she is nowhere to be seen. 

The door falls shut behind you with a snick, and you stare at the Führer King in grim confirmation.

It’s just as I’d suspected.

You’d already guessed that the Führer himself was the “Wrath” that Father had spoken of. You’d already known the man was a homunculus, and seeing him seated here with the Colonel—stiff as a board at the table—fully puts it into place for you.

Ed fixes his gaze on Mustang as the three of you approach the table, but you continue to eye the Führer warily. “Colonel?” Ed prompts. “What’s going on?”

Mustang crosses his arms over his chest, his own gaze focused on the homunculus as well. “Where do I begin?” he huffs with a sigh. “Fuery’s been shipped south, Falman’s been sent up north, Breda’s been assigned to the west… and Hawkeye is now a personal assistant to the Führer.”

You gasp, horrified that they’d gone so far as to separate the Lieutenant from her superior officer.

If they’ll split even the two of them up… are they going to try to take me away from Ed? Or take Al from us?

You feel your brow furrow unconsciously. No, you think to yourself firmly, leaving no room for doubt. No, I won’t let them do that. You feel the weight of the gun that Hawkeye had lent you at the small of your back. I’m not going to let anybody get in between us—no matter what.

Führer Bradley nods toward the three empty chairs around the table next to Mustang. “Go ahead and take a seat,” he offers smoothly.

You glare at him as you and the boys slide into the seats. You sit on the edge of the hard wood, ready to leap up at any threat. Your hair drips uncomfortably down the back of your baggy shirt, still wet from the shower. Your bare toes wiggle in your boots, which were the only thing you’d been allowed to keep besides your eyepatch (after a good scrubbing of the outside. You can deal with the inside later, on your own time). Envy hadn’t been able to find any socks for you, and the boys’ alchemy still wasn’t working, so they couldn't transmute you a pair, either. 

As the man pours you and Ed each a cup of tea, you weigh out your odds.

The guards have left us completely alone, you consider thoughtfully. There’s four of us, and only one of him. And he’s only got the one sword.

…So that means that he’s very confident he can take on all of us at once, you realize grimly, lips pulling back in a grimace.

You eye the Führer warily as he takes a long sip from his mug. Inside Al’s armor, you hear a small cough, and you stiffen in horror.

Quickly, you begin hacking, pounding at your chest as you let out a round of wracking coughs to disguise the noise. Doubling over at the waist for dramatic effect, Ed begins slapping you on the back.

After a few moments, you sit upright, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Sorry,” you croak, putting a frog in your throat. “Spit went down the wrong pipe!”

It’s a watery excuse, but before the Führer can press, Ed leans forward, resting his steel arm on the table. “Führer Bradley,” he says curtly; “So what was that, in the hospital that day when you came to visit us? You really had us going, didn’t you?”

The Führer only casts the boy a cool look, folding his hands calmly in front of him. “I don’t recall lying,” he points out. “I instructed the two of you to suspect everyone, and not to mettle any further.” He looks up, casting his lone gaze between you and the boys. “All you need to know is that you’re important to us, and that there’s no need for you to dig any deeper. Accept the importance of your role and keep your heads down! If you do that, then no harm will come to you.”

You scoff. “Well lucky us!” you snap sarcastically. “And what about everybody else? What about all those people who aren’t lucky enough to be considered sacrifices?”

Bradley leans back in his chair. “You don’t need to know anything that I haven’t already told you,” he says calmly. “Is that clear, my Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists?”

Ed scoffs, a sarcastic smile playing over his face. “Fullmetal,” he repeats with a bitter chuckle. “You chose that as my title!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his watch, still spattered in blood from your time in Gluttony’s stomach. He stares down at it as he speaks his next words. “We only joined the military because we thought it might help us get our bodies back, but now…!” He shakes his head. “Now, I know what the State Alchemist program really is! You’re using it as a way to recruit your sacrifices!” He clenches his fist around the watch tightly, gritting his teeth. “Well, I’m not gonna let you use me to accomplish your sick goals!”

He tosses his watch across the table, where it skids to a halt near the Führer’s elbow. “I resign my post as a State Alchemist!” the boy says hotly, glaring at the dark-haired homunculus.

Bradley stares down at the watch on the table. “The symbol of a dog, fittingly crusted with blood,” he observes, and you feel your blood boiling.

You reach into your pocket, retrieving your own watch. “You’re not going to win!” you promise him, preparing to throw it at him. “I promise you this—we’re going to stop you, no matter what! We’ll tell the other State Alchemists about you, and they’ll—!”

But the Führer cuts you off, and his words wash over you like ice water. “...What was that young blonde girl’s name again?” he asks pointedly, tapping his forehead. “Ah, yes! It’s Winry Rockbell!” 

You hate the way her name falls from the man’s lips—he speaks it like it’s a rare and precious candy that he’s savoring the taste of.

The boys at your side are just as rattled as you are. “That’s right!” he continues, tapping one finger on the table in front of him. “She’s your automail engineer! And you grew up with her in Resembool, if I’m not mistaken? She must be like a sister to you guys, isn't she?” His black-eyed gaze is sharp and pointed, shifting between you and Ed in clear warning. “I’ve heard that she’s made quite a name for herself with her customers in Rush Valley! Such a sweet and trusting girl…!”

Ed jerks to his feet, slamming his palm down on the table, causing the tea cups to rattle. “Winry has nothing to do with this!” he spits, shaking his head in fury. “You leave her out of this!”

Wrath taps his finger meaningfully on the pocket-watch on the table, acting as though it’s simply a casual gesture. “Well,” he drawls; “That depends on you!”

He slides the watch back over to Ed across the table, and you grip your own watch tightly in your fist, shaking in anger. He glances between the two of you. “If you still want to quit,” he offers nonchalantly, “then I’ll just have to cut her down!”

You clench your fist so tightly with rage that you can feel your fingernails bite into your palm, but you and Ed slide your watches back into your pockets as the boy returns to his seat. 

Mustang sits passively in his chair nearby with his arms crossed, watching the scene go down.

For a moment, you’re angry that he’s not doing anything to help you, but then you remember his own helpless situation and you feel shame bloom in your chest. Besides, what is he supposed to say, anyway?

“Uh, Sir?” Al’s words are halting as he looks up at the Führer. “You don’t have to worry about us!” he assures, waving one hand through the air. “But I have to ask… If we’re going to continue to serve under your rule, will you please allow us to keep searching for a way to get our bodies back? Please, Sir?” His words are pleading as he looks up at the homunculus.

The man raises his teacup to his lips, extending his pinky politely, as you would expect from royalty. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he responds. 

“I don’t see why not,” he acquiesces, lowering his head in a tiny nod. “As long as you don’t interfere with our plans.” He turns his attention to Mustang. “And what do you have in mind, Colonel?” he questions, pinning the man beneath his gaze. “You wouldn’t do something so petty as to quit the military, would you?”

Mustang places his hand on his chin. “Good question,” he declares, and you can see the healing wound on the back where he’d carved a transmutation circle into his own flesh to save Hawkeye and Al. “I’m on a pretty short leash here, but I still find that preferable to giving up!” He straightens up, fixing his own stare back at the Führer. “And I still have my ambitions; your plans don’t change that… so I’ll hang on to this!” he announces, brandishing his own pristine pocket-watch. “And I’ll retain my current rank, too!”

Wrath seems minutely amused by Mustang’s bold demand, almost daring the homunculus to attempt to demote him. “That’s fine with me!” he concedes, nodding his head fractionally. “In that case, we have nothing more to discuss!”

As the four of you rise from your chairs, relief begins to flood over you. Is that really it? you think to yourself, that small bit of worry always nagging at you. Was it that easy? Are we free to go now?

As you turn toward the door, Mustang says something that makes you all pause. “Führer,” he says curtly. “I have to ask you something.” 

Bradley lowers his head slightly in a nod of permission. “Go ahead,” he agrees.

Mustang does not turn as he delivers his question. 

“Are you the one who murdered General Hughes?”

You stare at him and Bradley, shocked at his forwardness, but the Führer only lowers his head dismissively. “No,” he responds flatly, and begins to straighten some papers on his desk. “It was not me.”

“Then who did?” the man presses, glancing over his shoulder; but Wrath only glances up at him, pinning him beneath his cold gaze.

“Colonel,” he warns sharply. “I agreed to one question!”

Mustang stares at the man over his shoulder for several moments. Finally, he turns back toward the door. “We’ll be leaving now,” he says stiffly, and begins walking toward the door.

You and the boys follow after him, but you hear the Führer call out. “Ah—! Just one moment, Alphonse—!”

You blink, and when you open your eye, Wrath has his sword pinned through the leather patch at the side of Al’s armor that allows for movement of the waist.

You and the boys jerk in horror as you all stare down at the sword piercing through your brother’s body.

He’ll be perfectly fine after the blow, of course—it’s the injured girl inside that you have to worry about!

But after a moment, no blood seeps from the “wound”, and when he pulls out the sword, the blade is perfectly clean.

You let out a tiny, relieved breath, trying not to make the motion too noticeable.

“I-is that all?” stammers Al, his hands floating awkwardly through the air as the homunculus sheathes his blade again.

“That’s all,” he agrees. “You are now dismissed.”

※※※

You, the boys, and Mustang step out into the hallway, the door closing shut behind you with a click.

You and the brothers glance around to make sure that nobody is nearby, and then the three of you explode into a nervous, sweaty wreck. 

“Is she okay?!” you blurt out, and Al shakes his head at you.

“I don’t know—I think so!” he frets. “She went down into my leg! Gosh, that was way too close!”

After taking a few moments to make sure that the little girl is okay, you and the boys round on the Colonel. “Mister Mustang,” you say sweetly, fixing your nicest gaze on the man. “Be a doll and help us out, would you? Do you have any spare change?”

The man shoots you a dubious look, but he digs his hand through the pocket of his military uniform. “You guys want my money, now?” he scoffs, and then places a small handful of coins into your outstretched palm.

You, Ed, and Al peer down at your hand, and you separate out a small button, a paperclip, and a stray bullet, handing them back to the Colonel. “Jeez, is that all you’ve got?” sneers Ed, looking down at the small amount.

Mustang bristles. “It’s apparently more than you’ve got!” he snaps hotly.

But you don’t have time to stick around. “Thank you!” you shout over your shoulder. “We appreciate it!”

He begins to call after you, but you’re too busy running off to your next misadventure. “Sorry, Colonel!” Al calls, waving over his shoulder at the flustered man. “We’ll explain everything later!”

※※※

You slide the coins Mustang had given you into the payphone, the three of you all jammed into the small box like sardines in a can. Al is too big to fully fit inside, and only his front half is able to squeeze in. 

You dial the phone number of Atelier Garfiel, and you hold the phone away from your ear so that the boys can hear.

The line clicks as someone picks up. “Hello?” you press.

“Hello?” comes Winry’s small voice over the phone, and the three of you melt slightly with relief. “Echo? Is that you?” She sounds bemused. “Well, this is a surprise! You never call me! You and Ed didn’t break your automail again, did you?”

“No!” you respond. “We’re fine! We were just wondering if, uh…”

“Well, is everything alright?” injects Ed, leaning in closer to the receiver so it can pick up his voice. “Have you noticed anything weird lately? Like… any suspicious people following you?”

Winry sounds surprised on the phone. “Ed, you’re here too?” she questions, and there is a moment of silence on the other line. “Well, you guys…” she begins, and the three of you tense nervously.

“...You’re kind of freaking me out, here!” she continues, and you collapse again with relief.

Winry sounds amused on the phone. “It’s just that you usually only call me when you need something,” she tells you, and you can imagine her twirling the phone cable around her finger absently. “And now you just want to check in because you’re worried about me? It’s just a little weird, is all!”

You feel guilt blossom in your chest. “Don’t say it like that!” you whine, wilting slightly at her words. “You make it sound like we’re terrible friends! You know that we care about you, don’t you?”

She lets out a laugh on the other end. “Of course I do,” she tells you softly, fondness in her voice. “I’m just playing with you!” 

Then, there is a muffled sound and you hear another voice, and when she picks up the phone again, she sounds chagrined. “I have to get back to work now, guys,” she tells you. “Unless you have anything else to tell me?”

“No, that’s all!” you tell her. “Stay safe, okay? Call us if anything weird happens!”

“Bye, Winry!” calls Al over your shoulder as you hang up the phone.

With a sigh of relief, the three of you pile out of the phone booth. 

“I guess she’s still safe for now,” Ed muses, and you open your mouth to respond when an annoyingly familiar voice interrupts you.

“You know, it’s that kind of desperate worry that they’re going to manipulate you with,” Greed interjects, and you turn over your shoulder to see him rubbing his head in exasperation.

You and the boys jump out of your skin. “Ling!”

The boy smirks down at you, and you notice that he’s wearing different clothes than usual—all black like your own attire, with a suit jacket hanging open on top. “Nope!” he gloats, placing his hands on his hips and leering down at you and Ed. “It’s still Greed!”

You eye him warily, your hands coming up automatically in a defensive position over your body. “What are you doing here?” you ask, and he reaches into his back pocket.

He pulls out a long scrap of white fabric and presents it to you and Ed. “Your pal asked me to bring this to you,” he informs you, and you peer at the scrap suspiciously.

“Do you mean Ling?” you question as Ed accepts the fabric, peering at it with a knitted brow. “You can hear him in there?”

The homunculus waves his hand dismissively. “Sometimes,” he admits. “I’ll tell ya, the kid talks too much.”

You glance over Ed’s shoulder at the cloth he has between both hands. There is red lettering scrawled on it in a language that you can’t read. It looks like it was written in blood; he’d probably written the note inside of Gluttony’s stomach.

“What does it say?” asks Ed, peering up at dark-haired teen. “It’s in some other language!”

Greed puts his hands on his hips, turning his face away. Despite his claims to be fully himself, the gesture reminds you strikingly of Ling.

“Yeah,” he agrees dismissively; “It is. But he just wants you to deliver it to some girl.”

“Do you mean Lan Fan?” you ask, and then bristle up at the boy. “This is some kind of trick, isn’t it?! You’re going to try to follow us back to her, and—!”

But the homunculus only scoffs, genuinely seeming as though he finds your idea ridiculous. “I’ve got more class than that, alright?” he sneers. “And besides—as a rule of thumb, I don’t fight women!”

He sees you gearing up to make a sharp retort, and he extends one finger in your direction. “...Unless they fight me first!” he adds, waggling his finger at you disapprovingly, and you press your lips together, shooting him a rude gesture.

“Another rule of mine is to never tell a lie,” he informs the three of you coyly, and then turns on his heel, shooting you a wave as he begins walking away. “Give it to her or don’t,” he tells you casually. “It’s your call!”

The three of you huddle together, watching the homunculus in your friend’s body depart. After a moment, Ed shouts after him. “Wait, Ling!” he yells, but the dark-haired teen does not turn back.

He only extends an arm up and calls over his shoulder, “It’s Greed, kid!”

※※※

You and Al huddle around Doctor Knox’s living room as he tucks Mei Chang beneath a blanket. A pillow is propped up below her head and Xiao Mei fusses with a wet rag draped over her forehead. She shivers on the couch where the doctor has set her up to rest. 

“It’s just a mild concussion,” he explains, stepping back and peering down at the girl. “She’ll be fine after a few days of rest.”

Al puts his hand on his armored chest. “I’m so relieved,” he breathes out, and the doctor rounds on him.

“Well I’m sure as hell not!” he hollers, and the two of you shimmy uncomfortably as he jabs his finger at you. “You guys seem to think that this is a hospital! You’ve filled my house with patients—where am I supposed to sleep, now, huh?!”

“We’re sorry—we’re sorry!”

But he only blusters on. “I’m not running a halfway house for injured young girls—!”

But then Lan Fan comes staggering into the room, Ling’s jacket slung over her shoulders as she grips the area where the other arm is missing. She leans heavily against the doorway, and you and Al rush over to her.

“Lan Fan!” you gasp as she collapses into Al’s armored grip, swaying vaguely on her feet as he steadies her. “What are you doing out of bed?! You need to rest!”

But she looks up at you and Al, her cloudy gaze pleading. “The young lord…” she groans; “Isn’t he with you?”

You and Al exchange an awkward glance, not sure how to break the news, or if now is the right time.

“He—he’s not,” Al confesses. “But he’s still alive! We have a message from him, right, Echo?” he urges.

“T-That’s right!” you stammer, reaching into your pocket and retrieving the strip of fabric. You press it into her waiting hand. “He asked us to deliver it to you, after, uh…” You falter, hesitating, then decide to change the subject. “Hey, why don’t you tell us what it says!” you plow forth, gesturing to the strip. “We couldn’t read it—it’s in another language!”

The distraction gets her attention, but she’s silent for several moments as she takes in the bloody words. 

You wait with baited breath, sweat beading up on your brow as the seconds tick on in silence. After a moment, she pulls out of Al’s grasp, slowly turning to walk a few paces behind her. Then, she comes to rest on her knees, clutching the strip of fabric tightly to her chest.

“L-Lan Fan?” urges Al hesitantly. “What does it say?”

“It says…” she begins, and you can hear the watery smile in her voice as she raises the cloth to her cheek. “It says he found a Philosopher's Stone!” she rejoices, sniffling. “The young lord has saved our clan!” She sounds like she can hardly believe it. “And now, we must return to our country! We must spread the good news!”

She turns to pin you and Al beneath her hopeful gaze. “Where is he?” she asks you eagerly. “Can you take me to him? Is he out with your friend?”

She’s talking about Ed, of course, who had gone for a walk; to clear his mind, he’d said, before slipping away and leaving you and Al with the two injured girls.

You and Al exchange an uncomfortable glance, and the Xingese girl seems to pick up on it this time.

Her face drops, her cheeks going paler as she scoots forward on her knees to grip your pant leg. “What’s wrong?” she demands, turning her dark gaze up at you with fear in her eyes. “Why are the two of you being so quiet? Why are you looking at him like that?” She tugs lightly on your jeans, and you have to avert your gaze from her haunted face. “Has something happened to the young lord?!”

She cuts her gaze back and forth between you and the armored boy at your side, desperate for answers that you’re not strong enough to give her right now. “Please, talk to me!” she begs, tugging at your clothes again as tears begin to stream down her cheeks. “Where is the Prince?!”

※※※

Lan Fan lies on her back on the bed, staring hollowly up at the ceiling above her, you and Al seated off to the side.

“I see,” she rasps, haunted by the news that the two of you had been forced to deliver. “He accepted the Stone, and let the beast take control.”

“I’m sorry,” whispers Al. “I wish we could have stopped him.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lan Fan replies, letting her eyes slide closed. “I’m only upset with myself for being unable to protect him.”

Then her eyes slide open again, her head turning to face you and the boys with a determined expression on her face. “But the Prince…” she says slowly, mulling over the thought; “He’s not gone! He’s just trapped inside of this ‘Greed’ creature, right?!”

She struggles upright, the blankets falling away from her bandaged shoulder. You lean forward in your chair, ready to help her if need be.

But her gaze is focused firmly on her lap as she grips the bandaged area where her left arm had been. “I need your help,” she grits out between her teeth, sweat rolling down her brow. “I need a new arm—as soon as possible!”

Al leans closer to the injured girl, his hands flitting about her worriedly. “Are you sure?” he questions anxiously. “You haven’t healed yet!”

But the girl only glares over at the boy, seated on the floor beside the bed. “I need an automail engineer now,” she insists, casting her fierce gaze between the two of you. “Please help me!”

You and Al both watch the girl for a few moments, and then shoot each other a look.

“Okay,” you promise her, rising up from the chair and pushing her gently back down by the uninjured shoulder. “We’ll call Winry, but you need to get your strength back first!” Al helps you to pull the blanket up around the girl. “You rest for now,” you instruct her as you and the boy rise to your feet. “We’ll ask the doctor to make you some food.”

But as you turn to the doorway, you’re surprised to see the other injured girl standing in the doorway, her panda on her shoulder as she glares at Lan Fan.

“I don’t think you should be up yet!” frets Al, and you eye the girl warily, knowing that she’s much tougher than she seems and not liking the look on her face.

“Your name is Mei Chang, right?” you ask her, and you hear Lan Fan rustling on the bed behind you.

“Mei?” she gasps, and there is a flurry of movement as the tiny girl flings a dagger at the wounded teen on the bed. Lan Fan blocks the blow by grabbing a nearby book and holding it up in front of herself, and the two girls exchange glares.

“What the—?! What’s going on?” you demand, shooting your shocked gaze between the two girls.

“Hmph!” sneers the smaller girl in the doorway, a slightly impressed smile playing over her foreign features. “You’re a watchdog for the Yao clan!”

“I know you too,” replies Lan Fan, cautiously lowering the skewered book. “You’re the Chang heiress!”

“Very good!” praises Mei, taking a few steps into the room. “I’m the seventeenth daughter—Princess Mei Chang!”

Lan Fan lowers her gaze, peering at the girl from beneath her lashes. “I also know why you’re in this country,” she divulges, glaring at her with a sly grin. “...To obtain immortality!”

Mei only glares back, her own sarcastic smile playing across her lips. “Too bad you won’t live to see me get it!” she gloats.

But Lan Fan kicks the covers off, leaping to her feet with the knife held tightly in her only fist. You let out an alarmed yell, not wanting her to make such sudden movements, but it seems that this is the least of your problems as she begins to square up with the tiny girl. 

“You won’t be leaving this room, Princess,” snaps Lan Fan, assuming a fighting stance as Mei flourishes more knives between her fingers.

“Hey, now wait just a minute!” you demand, as you and Al insert yourselves between the two girls. “The two of you are both injured, you shouldn’t be fighting like—!”

But both girls turn to snap at you and the armored boy, their voices blending together. “Stop trying to interfere in the affairs of our country!” they holler, and you and Al stagger backward into each other, each tripping over the other’s feet until you land in a sprawled pile together on your backs.

The two girls reassume their stances, ready to fight when Doctor Knox bursts into the room, banging both girls on top of the head with the bowls of food in his hands. “What’s going on in here?!” he demands.

They both collapse to the ground, clutching their fresh goose-eggs as the doctor lays the bowls on a nearby table, placing his hands on his hips and glaring down at them as you and Al begin to sit up. “You’re supposed to be resting in bed!” he scolds, wagging his finger disapprovingly at them both.

Mei rubs her forehead, pouting up at the man dubiously. “Stop trying to interfere in—!”

But Doctor Knox is having exactly none of that, as he leans over the girl and shouts down into her face, spit flying. “I don’t care about the affairs of your country, dumbass!!” he bellows, knocking you and Al backward again with the force of his words.

Then, both girls being appropriately cowed, he takes a step back, wiping his glasses with a rag. “Geez,” he mutters, “It doesn’t matter where you’re from; you’re both my patients!”

※※※

You sit on the front porch of Doctor Knox’s house, feet swinging beneath you, lost in thought.

If our alchemy wasn’t working, then why could Scar and Mei still transmute? you ponder, thinking over the fight in Father’s throne room. Your alchemy is back now, but the feeling of empty nothingness inside of you haunts your memory. 

It made your skin crawl, the way that you’d been rendered completely and totally helpless. You’d been powerless, your hands behind your back, forced to watch as your friend was transformed into a monster right before your eye.

Is the alchemy they practice in other countries different from our alchemy here?

You’d never read much about alkahestry, and a fire lights in your chest as you recall your own bitter helplessness, not wanting to ever feel like that again.

I need to learn, you decide firmly, staring down at your palms in front of you. I need to keep them safe. I can’t be powerless like that again. I can’t be.

You pull Hawkeye’s gun from your waistband, staring down at the metal, warm from your skin. Maybe I’ll ask her if I can hold on to this, you ponder, liking the way that you’d had it as a last resort in the fight. 

You’d realized something about yourself when you’d pulled the trigger at Father, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

Because the reality is that there is genuinely nothing that you wouldn’t do to keep the brothers safe. There is no line you would not cross, no bridge you would not burn, no life you would not take if it meant that they were alive and well.

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

“Why do you want it?” Hawkeye asks you, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “Aren’t you and the boys against this kind of thing?”

You’re seated around the dining room table in her apartment, and she stares at you appraisingly, her large brown eyes searching.

You glance away, scratching the back of your head. “We met the man who made the homunculi,” you explain to her slowly, shifting in your seat. “We came out of Gluttony’s stomach and we were just… right in front of the guy. We knew that we had to stop him, but…” You swallow, uncomfortable with the fresh memory. “...But he was so strong, and then he did something to take our alchemy away!” you whisper, and the woman’s face tightens slightly with surprise.

“It was… horrible,” you shudder, hair rising on the back of your neck at the memory. “I put my hands together and there was just… nothing inside of me. It was terrifying! I was completely and totally powerless—I couldn’t do anything to help! I was…!” You cut yourself off, face screwing up as your hidden truth bubbles up a little too close to your lips. Taking a deep breath, you shove it back down, beating your feelings back with a stick.

“...I was weak,” you say finally, your voice hushed, staring down at your metal fingers as you toy with the mug in front of you. 

Weak! whispers the little voice in your head. You’re weak, powerless;  helpless, hopeless! You’re useless! Needless!

“Weak,” you whisper again, glancing at the gun on the table between you. “And then I remembered that I had this, and it was—it was something I could do, something I could control; something I could use! And so I pulled it out, and I aimed at him right between the eyes, and…! And I…!”

…You’re a killer!

“You pulled the trigger.”

A murderer!

A monster!

You shudder again. “Yes,” you agree, clenching your flesh fist in your lap. “Yes, I did. I didn’t even hesitate—I was ready to kill him.” 

Hawkeye opens her mouth to respond, but you’re on a roll now, the words flowing out of you like smoke. “But I—I had to!” you stammer, trying to explain, trying to justify. “He—he was going to kill Ling, and then…! And then he wanted to turn him into a homunculus! And he said that he wasn’t going to hurt the rest of us, but how could I know for sure if he was telling the truth? His homunculi have beaten us senseless before! And besides, he plans to ‘sacrifice’ us in the future anyway, and we don’t even know for what…!”

“Echo.” Hawkeye’s voice is calm and collected, and her tone makes you glance up at her from beneath your lashes, only now realizing that your hands have begun to shake. “You’re safe now,” she reminds you, and you feel your cheeks burn as you struggle to regain your composure. “What happened when you pulled the trigger? Did you hit him?”

You glance back down at your lap, pressing both palms beneath your thighs to quell their shaking. “No,” you admit softly, gnawing on your lip. “I only got off one round before they pinned me down, and it went wide when they pushed me. I didn’t even graze him.”

You sigh. “Honestly, I doubt the bullet would’ve even done much damage at all, even if it had hit him…” you admit reluctantly. “But still, it was so nice to have this as a backup when everything else went wrong—it made me feel less… less useless, like there was still something I could do to help, even if it was small!”

You lean forward, pinning the Lieutenant beneath your burning green gaze. “So please, Miss Hawkeye!” you ask again, placing your hands hesitantly on the edge of table; “Please, would you consider letting me keep it? So that I can keep my family safe?”

She stares at you for a long, long moment, the two of you sitting in silence. Finally, she lets out a long sigh, rising to her feet at the other end of the table.

“No,” she tells you firmly, leaning forward and grabbing the gun off the table; you feel your stomach sink. “I can’t let you keep this.”

Well, you think to yourself, disappointed; at least I tried.

But then Hawkeye crosses the room, rustling through her purse nearby and retrieving a small object. She walks back to the table and presses it into your hands. “...But this one, you can keep,” she tells you, and you turn the object over in your hands.

It is a tiny black pistol, small enough to fit comfortably in your hand, the trigger just barely big enough for one finger. It’s unlike any gun you’ve ever seen before, and you can only guess that it is some sort of special military issue.

It’s the smallest gun you’ve ever seen, and it seems to be perfect for you.

You wrap your fingers around it, holding it carefully as you test its light weight. “Are you sure?” you breathe, glancing up at the woman who is smiling down at you faintly. “I can really have this?”

“You’re a brave girl, Echo,” she tells you solemnly, and you feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. “I know how hard it is to feel responsible for the safety of the boys that you love, and it’s a heavy weight to carry.” 

She stares at you intently. “But what’s even heavier is the weight that this weapon comes with,” she tells you, her voice stern and warning. “This is a tool of death, and you must never avert your eyes from that death. If you decide to take a life, you have to be ready to remember the people that you’ve killed, because they will never forget the one who killed them.”

You shudder at her harsh words, responsibility splashing over your head like a wave. 

“It only holds three bullets,” she warns, “so you have to make your shots count. It’s small, but make no mistake—if you aim right, this gun can be just as deadly as any other. Are you sure you understand what that means?”

You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off.

“I want to tell you a story,” she explains to you, sitting back down across from you at the table. “And then you can decide if you’re really ready to own that gun or not.” She appraises you coolly as she runs her finger around the rim of her teacup. “What do you know about the Ishvalan War?”

※※※

Your new gun is nestled inside your left boot, pressing against your leg as you, Ed, and Al walk through the park, the stars shining above.

“That’s terrible,” whispers Al, shaking his metal head sadly. “It’s tough to even hear about Ishval—I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her!”

You grimace, staring down at your metal hand. “I can,” you tell them grimly. “She didn’t spare me any details—there’s a lot more that I left out.”

Ed settles down on a wooden bench nearby, and you and Al follow after him. “They say an alchemist is one who searches for the truth,” he says quietly; “But we had no idea what really happened in Ishval.”

Al turns his faceplate up to the moon above, the pale light reflecting off the metal. “Do you think the Colonel is concerned about what happens after he gets what he wants?” he asks quietly.

You run the toe of your boot through the dirt beneath the bench. “Mustang is a good man,” you point out. “He’s cocky, and kind of a jerk, but he’s a good guy; he’ll make a great Führer. You heard about his plans to completely reform the government—I’m sure that he’s gonna go gray worrying about it.”

Ed smiles softly, glancing down at his lap. “I know I would if I were him,” he says softly, and then glances up at his brother. “Hey guys?” he asks, still hushed, the night sky a soft blanket pressed over the three of you like the forts you’d made as children. “What are you gonna do when we get our bodies back? I mean, afterwords, ya know?”

You turn to look up at the armored boy as he takes in the question, wanting to know his answer before thinking about your own. “Well, let’s see…” he answers slowly, glancing down at his gauntlets in thought. “...I really want to try some of Winry’s apple pie!” he gushes after a moment, and you can imagine his cheeks going rosy at the thought.

You smile. Winry had taken up baking when you guys were younger. You’d tried your own hand at it more than once—cooking, as well—but your own skills were hopeless; you could burn water.

Al turns to the two of you. “What about you guys?” he asks, turning the question back around. 

“Hmm…” muses Ed thoughtfully, and you ponder the question yourself.

What were you going to do when your journey was finally over? You’ve been fighting to achieve your goal for so long that you’d never really taken the time to consider the aftermath. 

You glance down at your mismatched hands, the automail gleaming in the moonlight above; you imagine a flesh hand in its place, and then think about the boys—whole, hale, and hearty—at your side.

You dimple up at the armored boy at your side, a soft smile lighting your face. “I want to run my hands through your hair,” you tell him honestly. “And mess it up, like I used to when we were little. And then… I want to have a big group hug, and cry tears of joy together!”

Alphonse leans his large body closer to you affectionately, and then the two of you turn your attention toward Ed, who shuffles his feet beneath him.

“What about you, Ed?” you urge softly. “What are you going to do?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Gosh,” he sighs, leaning back and spreading his arms over the back of the bench. “I feel like I haven’t even had time to think about it!” You nod in understanding as he seems to ponder the question. “I guess the first thing I should do is make some courtesy calls,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at the boring answer. “What?” he says defensively, leering at you. “You don’t think it’s important to let Winry and Teacher know that we’re alright?”

You shrug your own shoulders back at the boy. “I guess,” you concede. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see us in one piece again!”

“Yeah,” agrees Al with a smile in his voice. “When they see us, I’m sure they’ll be smiling. And it’ll be nice, won’t it?” he points out, and a soft smile flits over your own face at the thought. 

“It will be nice,” you agree, staring up at the stars above, thinking of your loved ones, including the ones beside you. “To see them smile at us.”

Al rises to his feet, turning to face you and Ed. “I know things are tough right now,” he says, his voice strong and excited. “But I’m starting to cheer up!”

You and Ed rise up after him, and the three of you begin walking again, side-by-side. “Well,” Ed says, placing his hand on his hip with a proud grin. “I found a trace of hope for us!”

“Oh?” you question, nudging him with your own hip as you meander down the park path. “Do tell!”

“Well, you know how our alchemy wouldn’t work while we were under Central Command?” he asks, and you both nod. “Well, guess what?”

“What?”

Ed smirks. “It wasn’t working above ground, either!” 

Your place your hand on your hip. “But what about Scar?” you point out. “And that little girl? Their alchemy was working!”

Ed nods firmly. “They’re the only ones who could use it,” he explains. 

“I was actually thinking about that earlier!” you tell them eagerly. “I think that they must be using a different form of alchemy! Ling mentioned alkahestry—maybe it’s even more different from the alchemy that we practice here in Amestris than we thought it was!”

Ed smirks determinedly. “Yeah!” he agrees. “This means we haven’t hit a dead end yet!”

※※※

“What do you mean, ‘she’s gone’?!” Ed demands, hunched over the phone in the hotel lobby. “The little obnoxious girl left?!”

“Yeah,” comes Doctor Knox’s voice over the phone, held up between you and Ed. “She left this morning!”

You grab Ed’s hands over the phone, dragging the mouth piece closer to you to speak into it. “Do you know where she went?” you ask urgently. “We really need to talk to her—it’s important!”

“No,” the man replies, his voice low and gravelly over the line. “She didn’t tell me.”

Frustrated, Ed pulls the phone back. He exchanges a hasty goodbye with the man and then slams the phone down angrily. Then, he begins stalking toward the front door, you and Al following behind him. “We can still find her!” he grits out stubbornly, and you reach out to grab his shoulder. 

“Do you have any idea just how big Central is?” you ask him, aghast. “And we don’t have any idea where to even start! How do you possibly expect us to find her?!”

He turns to face you with a grin, holding one finger up in protest. “Ah!” he says, tutting; “But we do have somewhere to start!”

※※※

It’s the next afternoon, and you’re on a bench in the center of town. 

You sigh wearily, folding up the drawing you had of Xiao Mei and sliding it into your pocket. You and the boys had wandered around all of Central with pictures of the tiny panda (drawn in varying levels of skill) trying to see if anybody had seen her, but so far your search has been fruitless.

Ed slumps over on the bench beside you as Al stands nearby, scanning the nearby area. “Ughhh,” he groans. “It seems like this search is getting us nowhere.”

You lean against the boy, just as frustrated. “The two of them could have already left Central, for all we know!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, your head lolling back to rest on his shoulder. “They could be long gone by now!”

Ed opens his mouth to respond, but a black car rolls up in front of the three of you, its breaks squealing softly as it pulls to a halt before you. Mustang sits behind the wheel in civilian attire, a tie strung neatly around his neck. “Smokebomb; Fullmetal!” he calls out, and you and Ed rise to your feet in surprise.

“Mustang?”

The dark-haired man jerks his chin toward the backseat. “Get in!” he orders.

※※※

It’s always a party trying to fit Alphonse into a car, especially when other people are along for the ride. In this case, he is taking up the entire backseat by himself, leaving you and Ed squeezed together in the passenger seat. Your shoulders brush together as Mustang examines the drawing that Al had handed him, cutting his attention between the paper and the road.

“You don’t say,” he mutters vaguely, and you pull the paper from his hand so that he doesn’t get into an accident. “Xingese alkahestry… Sounds promising! I’ll ask around and let you know what I find.” 

“Thank you…” Ed sighs, leaning against the window and staring sullenly out of it as you pass him the drawing. “…but I don’t really want to be any deeper in debt to you than we already are!”

“Speaking of!” Mustang says, and bumps you with his elbow, reaching out to you with his palm up. “You kids owe me some money! How about you cough it up!”

Ed bristles roughly at the man. “Keep your eyes on the road!” he snaps hotly, the hair-antenna on his head tweaking in anger.

Mustang swerves to get back into his lane from where he’d been drifting into oncoming traffic.

“Fuck, you’re such a bad driver!” you mutter under your breath, making a sarcastic holy symbol of protection over your chest where the man can see from the corner of his eye. “Remind me not to get in the car with you again unless someone else is driving!”

Mustang just leers at you and Ed. “My money!” he demands, wiggling his fingers. 

Ed sighs, digging into his pocket. “Jeez,” he huffs, and you fish for your own pocket change; “You remembered that? How much do we even owe you… 500 Cens?”

Mustang puffs angrily. “It was 520 Cens!” he corrects. “Don’t con me!”

Ed pulls a couple of coins from his pocket; your own pockets turn out two 10-Cen coins and a clump of lint. You place all three into Ed’s hand, and you glance down at the 80 Cens (and lint ball) that you have between the two of you. “We’re not conning you,” he huffs, rattling the coins in his hand and brushing the lint onto the floor of the car at his feet; “We’re just not penny-pinchers like you are!”

Al whines from the backseat. “We’re sorry, Colonel,” he says sincerely.

You and Ed exchange a glance, and then give each other a small nod; he closes his fist around the coins. “We don’t have enough right now, so we’ll pay you back later,” you tell him, eyeing him sidelong as you recall what Hawkeye had told you about the man. “...As soon as you become Führer!” you promise, and he cuts his own dark gaze sideways at you.

He narrows his eyes at you, but you point back to the road in front of you. “Eyes up!” you tell him.

He scowls. “Who told you?”

You roll your eye at him. “Who do you think told me?” you scoff. “Your wife, of course!”

Mustang scoffs right back at you. “Not funny, Smokebomb,” he growls. “Treat the Lieutenant with the respect she deserves!”

“She knows damn well that I respect her plenty,” you jab, and then begin elbowing him in the side playfully. “And I never said I was talking about Miss Hawkeye—does she even know that you’re calling her your wife?”

※※※

You walk into your hotel room and before you can even flip the light on, a voice rings out from the darkness.

“It took you long enough!” it rasps, and you jump out of your skin. “I was getting tired of waiting!”

Al flicks the switch on the wall and you see Ling’s bodyguard, Fu—the same man that had traveled with you and Ed across the desert to the ruins of Xerxes.

You glance toward the window, which is wide open, the curtains blowing in the wind. 

We keep forgetting to lock the damn thing! is all you can seem think, as the man glares at you with his arms crossed.

※※※

Fu stares down his nose at Lan Fan, smoke practically billowing from his nose. “You lost your arm,” he says, and his voice is anything but soothing or compassionate. 

No, his tone is accusing, harsh, spitting his words at the girl who cringes before him on the couch, clutching her empty coat sleeve. “You couldn’t protect the Prince—and look at you now!”

You already want to step in, but perhaps this harshness is part of their culture; you simply don’t know enough about the Xingese people to say if the man is following his people’s customs or if he’s simply being cruel.

But you can’t stop yourself from interfering after Fu strikes the girl sharply across the face, her head jerking to the side and the smack reverberating through the room.

“Hey!” you shout, stepping forward in front of the girl. “Don’t you hit her like that!” 

But Doctor Knox is already there, grabbing the older man’s arm as he draws back to strike again.

But the man’s attention is unwavering as he snarls down at the young woman beneath him, grappling weakly against the doctor. “How dare you call yourself a member of the Chosen clan?” he snarls as Doctor Knox begins barking complaints into his ear.

He fights for a few moments, and then he stops flailing, staring down at the girl in front of him in broken dismay. “It’s gone,” he whispers raggedly, voice shaking slightly. “Your arm… it’s really gone!”

Lan Fan stares down at her lap miserably. “Please forgive me, Grandfather,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry!”

You sit on the couch beside her, rubbing small circles on her back as she fights to maintain her composure.

Fu steps forward, grasping her empty shirt sleeve tightly in his fist. “You fool,” he breathes, tears flooding his eyes, and he falls to his knees before her, pressing the sleeve to his crumpling face. “You damn fool!”

※※※

“We promised Lan Fan that we would introduce her to our automail engineer,” you explain to the old man, standing by the girl’s side. “Her name is Winry—she does great work!”

You gesture to your own arm, but Fu crosses his own over his chest, shaking his head at you resolutely. “We decline,” he says flatly, and you stare at him, shocked. 

“...What?”

“We appreciate such a kind gesture!” he reassures you; “But you’ve already helped us enough. We can find an engineer on our own, if we must!”

Al steps forward behind you. “But… we have to do something!” he urges, and you nod your head.

“It’s really no problem at all!” you reassure him. “She works at a shop in Rush Valley—she’d be happy to help you. She’d probably even get you guys a good deal!”

But the man only shakes his head again, his gaze resolute. “The enemy has now clearly seen Lan Fan’s face,” he explains, and you glance at the girl’s pretty, delicate features, albeit slightly pale and clammy from the stress of her wound. “We refuse to risk the life of your engineer friend!”

Your mouth falls open slightly, but you don’t have a response for that one.

“...Alright then,” says Ed quietly after a moment, glancing down at his shoes. “...Thank you.”

Doctor Knox looks taken aback as the old man walks up to him. “You are the only reason my granddaughter is still alive,” he tells the man, pressing his palms together and bowing at the waist. “You have my gratitude.”

The doctor doesn't seem to know how to respond. After a moment, he takes a puff of his cigarette and yaps out, “What? Do I look like the type of doctor who needs gratitude?”

But you see his eyes soften slightly as they fall on Lan Fan, who rises from the couch and bends slightly at the waist, clutching the jacket closed over her empty shoulder. “Thanks, Doctor,” she says sincerely, casting her gaze down humbly. “Thanks for saving me.”

“E-Eh…!” the doctor stammers, and then waves his arm, through the air. “J-Just clean up in here when you’re done!” he blusters, turning to stride out of the room. “I’m not such a pushover that I’m gonna let you sleep in my bed an extra night! Now, get outta here!”

※※※

Greed sits on the ledge on the roof of Central command, taking in the clouds rolling by above. Behind him, he hears footsteps.

“So,” a deep voice calls out, and he casts a glance over his shoulder to see a dark-haired older man walking toward him. “...how are you liking the new body, Greed? Decent enough?”

Greed smirks, letting out a little chuckle. “You must be Wrath!” he calls out. “Yeah, this body is great! Listen to this—it’s royalty! This guy was a prince of Xing!” 

He smirks at the memory of the funky little human he’d “bargained” with. “The funny thing is—he let me take control!” he remarks slyly, chuckling again. “Seemed to think that I could make him the Emperor or something. What an ambitious little brat!”

Wrath turns contemplatively behind him. “I spoke to him once about politics,” he remarks coolly. “His naïve theories on leadership were… amusing. He said ‘a king’s duty is to his people’.” He spits the words like they’re bitter in his mouth. “...As if the people actually mattered when ruling a country! What a fool!” he scoffs. “Just look at where his allegiance to the people has gotten him now! Typical human…” 

Without his permission, Greed’s mouth opens up, and the human’s voice comes pouring from his throat as it grabs the reigns for a moment. “You shut the hell up!” Ling snaps, glaring viciously at the Führer. “Don’t underestimate humans!”

As Wrath blinks up at him in surprise, Greed wrestles back control, giving a little laugh to the man. “I know!” he remarks, jerking his thumb at his own chest. “He’s patient! Just waiting for any chance he can get; I’ve gotta stay on my toes!”

“Hmm,” the Führer says coolly, his expression unreadable. “He must be beginning to reconsider his ambitions,” he remarks, turning on his heel and beginning to stride away. “...now that he’s taken a monster like you into his flesh!”

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

Ed holds up the drawing next to the tiny creature in the woman’s arms, and you glance back and forth between the image and the animal.

“It does kind of look like her,” Al points out, but you squint your eye at the tiny black-and-white animal, which peers up at you with a dumb expression on its face.

“I don’t know, guys…” you say dubiously, referring to the drawing of Xiao Mei again, noting the differences. “I’m pretty sure that this thing is a dog!”

The little creature lets out a wet sneeze. As it begins to emit a series of odd, warbling noises, you and the boys exchange a shocked glance.

The woman holding the stuffy creature pats its head affectionately as it wriggles in her hands. “She’s such a darling girl, isn’t she?” she croons, scratching the little animal under the chin.

You shoot her a wan smile and then the three of you turn your backs to her in a group huddle.

“That definitely isn’t her!” huffs Ed, shaking the drawing in his hand.

“Yeah, I can see that!” Al agrees.

The blonde boy gnashes his teeth in frustration, crumpling the edge of the paper in his fist as he tightens his grip. “We can’t afford to waste our time here entertaining some old lady and her stupid dog!” he hisses, and you jab him with your elbow.

“Keep your voice down!” you shush him, glancing at the woman over your shoulder. “She’ll hear you!”

The three of you stare down at the crumpled drawing in the boy’s fist and sigh. “Xiao Mei…” you muse out loud. “Where are the two of you?”

※※※

After a couple of days of asking around, it’s clear that the girl is nowhere to be found. 

So instead of a first-hand interview, you decide to hedge your bets at the Central Library, searching for any books about alkahestry.

You and the boys split up when you get inside, each tackling a different section.

You run your fingers over the bookshelves, mouthing the names of the titles subconsciously.

“Synthesis and Separation: The Art of Fusion and Fission in Alchemy”; “The Book of Mirrors: Self-Reflection in Alchemical Practice”; “Breath of the Earth: Harnessing Air in Alchemical Formulas”.

You spot many books that you’ve poured over countless times before, and even more that are on your to-read list. Finally, your finger stops over a book that sounds promising. 

“‘Beyond the Borders: Alchemical Knowledge of Xing and Xerxes’,” you read aloud, pulling the textbook from the shelf with a triumphant noise. Flicking your thumb through the pages, you read through the glossary with eager eyes. “This seems like a great place to start!”

※※※

You’ve always been good at studying, but even you can only handle so many hours of work in a row. As you rub your twitching eyelid wearily, you clap the book in your lap closed. You’re surrounded by a pile of other books, each about various kinds of alchemy, but only a very small portion include anything about alkahestry. 

If Mister Mustang really does become the new ruler of this country, I’ll have to make sure to tell him to invest more research into foreign culture! Forget alkahestry—there’s barely anything on Xing at all; just a measly handful of books!

You need a break. Cracking your knuckles, you rise to your feet with a stretch. You feel the muscles in your back twinge, having been hunched over for so long, and you rub the ache with a grimace.

You run your flesh fingers absently over the shelves as you begin to meander your way through the rows, looking to check up on your boys. 

You find Ed first, sliding an armful of books back onto the shelf. “Hey, Ed!” you greet, and he glances at you over his shoulder as you approach. “How’s it going? Any luck?”

The boy blows a raspberry, sulking. “No luck,” he responds sullenly. “There’s practically nothing here about alkahestry at all!” You reach toward his pile and begin helping him return the books to the shelves. “At this rate,” he says, sounding exasperated, “we might have to go to Xing!”

“I don’t want to go to the desert again!” you whine, recalling your travels to the ruins of Xerxes. “We just went a few months ago! It was too hot on my automail—I kept burning my face every time I reached up to push back my hair!”

He scoffs. “Why didn’t you ask me for a spare hair-tie?” he asks you, pulling up his left sleeve to reveal a few black bands around his wrist. “You know that I always keep extra on me in case mine breaks.”

You stare at the bands with a blank expression on your face, heat slowly creeping up your cheeks. “I… I guess I didn’t think about that,” you mutter, turning your attention to the few remaining books in your grip. “That would have been very helpful, actually.”

He smirks at you, turning to say something else, but a shadow suddenly falls over the two of you. Glancing up warily above you, you are surprised to see Major Armstrong looming over the top of the bookshelves, staring down at you and the golden boy beside you.

Staggering back, you and Ed bump into each other, sending the books you’re holding flying as you fall to the ground in a heap. “What the—?!” Ed stammers as the two of you untangle your limbs and peer up at him from the floor.

“Ah-ha!” he says, low in his throat, and then reaches up with two meaty hands to grab the two bookshelves in front of him. With a faint shove, he pushes the two heavy wooden units apart from each other as if he’s pushing open a door, squeezing his way through the gap and shutting it behind him again.

You stare up at the man in disbelief. “‘Ah-ha’?!” you repeat, flabbergasted. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why didn’t you just go around?!”

But he ignores you completely, stepping forward to tower over you and Ed. “There you are!” he proclaims. “I’ve found you at last!”

Ed glares up at the man. “Major!” he snaps. “What the hell are you doing here?”

But the huge man presses a finger to his lips, glancing around to make sure nobody is listening. “Hush!” he reprimands, glancing back down at the two of you. “This is a library, you know! You have to be quiet!”

Before you can rise to your feet, the Major is kneeling on the ground before you, leaning in close with a low voice for only the two of you to hear. “I understand that you’re after a certain Xingese girl who possesses a strange black-and-white cat!” he whispers, and you perk up.

“It’s not a cat, but yeah, we are!” you agree, your own voice hushed low. “But… how did you know that?”

“Colonel Mustang told me,” he informs you, leaning back slightly, glancing around again. “The word is that the girl is headed north,” he murmurs. “According to an eye-witness, she departed by train from East City very recently!”

Ed shoots an excited glance at you, clenching his fist in determination. “North!” he repeats determinedly. “Now that’s some information we can act on!”

“Thank you, Mister Armstrong!” you say cheerfully, and then you and the boy begin gathering the fallen books spread over the ground. “And thank Mister Mustang for us, too!”

But the man reaches a big, meaty hand out to grab your shoulder. “Hold on a second,” he urges, and you glance at him curiously as he digs into the pocket of his jacket. “I want you to take this,” he says seriously, handing you a white envelope sealed with a wax stamp; it bears a crest that you don’t recognize. 

Surprised, you reach out and grab the envelope. “What is it?” you ask curiously, turning it over in your hands.

Armstrong’s face is grim and serious. “A letter of introduction,” he informs you gravelly; “...but it might not be much use. Give it to her as soon as you see her, first thing! Do you understand?”

“Who?” questions Ed, peeking at the sealed letter curiously over your shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

The Major shudders, his eyes going glassy as he seems to recall something troubling. “Even further north than Northern Command,” he intones gravelly, “you will find an officer nicknamed ‘The Northern Wall of Briggs’; she defends our border.” He gulps, sweating. “Major General Armstrong!”

“‘Armstrong’?” you repeat, blinking at the man. “What is she, your cousin or something?”

“No.” He shudders again, even though the room is quite warm. “Even worse—she’s my sister!”

※※※

You’re helping Al gather up the books that he’d had collected on the table before him when a little boy runs up to the two of you. He has short black hair and big dark eyes, and he stares up at you and the armored boy with an awed expression on his face.

“Wow, I recognize you guys!” he cheers, clutching his notebook tighter to his chest in glee. “Your hair—it’s so red! You’re the Smokebomb Alchemist, aren’t you?! Miss Echo Slade? And—and you’re wearing a full suit of armor—you must be Alphonse Elric!”

You glance at Al, and then back down to the boy, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, that’s us,” you agree, smiling awkwardly, and the boy begins cheering loudly, giggling in excitement.

“That’s so cool!” he yells, waving his arms.

You imagine sweat running down Al’s face-plate as he presses a finger over his lips, leaning closer to the boy. “Thanks,” he tells him in a hushed voice; “But maybe you should try to be a bit quieter!”

Looking abashed, the boy claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry!” he says in a much quieter voice, leaning forward to peer at the pile of books you’re gathering up. “So, what are you guys studying?” he asks eagerly in an exaggerated whisper. “Something cool?”

Al smiles down at the boy. “It’s called alkahestry,” he explains as the boy looks on with wide, curious eyes. 

“What’s alkahestry?”

“It’s alchemy from the country Xing,” Al tells him, and the boy peers more closely at the books on the table.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “So it’s from Xing!” He glances up at you and your little brother over his shoulder inquisitively. “But you guys are already good enough at alchemy to be licensed here in Amestris,” he points out. “Our country is a major alchemical power, isn’t it? We have all sorts of really talented alchemists!” He tilts his head curiously. “So why would you look into the kind of alchemy they practice in a foreign country?”

“Uh…” stammers Al. “Well, we…!”

You sigh internally. He’s always been terrible at lying…

So you step forward, placing your hands on your hips in a faux-heroic pose. “We heard that alkahestry has a ton of healing applications,” you boast dramatically, puffing out your chest. “We want to help heal the sick and the hurt, so we’re studying hard!”

He points to your eyepatch. “Hurt like you?” he asks, gazing up at your curiously. “What happened to your eye?”

Your smile becomes slightly strained. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice a little softer than before. “Hurt like me.”

The boy leans forward. “So, what happened?” he presses, his dark eyes locked onto the black scrap in rapt curiosity. “Was there some kind of accident?”

Your mouth goes dry as you try to come up with a dodgy response that is also kid friendly. You always have a few excuses in the chamber, ready to fire, but none of them are appropriate for the boy, as they’re all sarcastic or rude in nature.

But you’re spared from having to answer when Ed comes running toward you guys, back from his bathroom break. “Are you guys almost ready?” he yells. “I’m trying to get out of here!”

Alphonse waves his hands in distress as the blonde skids to a stop before you. “Lower your voice, Brother! We’re in a library!” he admonishes, and the young boy looks up at Ed with dazzled eyes.

The blonde blinks down at him. “What’s with the kid?” he asks, glancing at the two of you.

“He called you ‘brother’!” he gushes, leaning forward to ogle over the boy. “Does that mean that you’re Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?!”

Ed looks proud, placing one hand on his hip with a cocky grin. “Yeah, that’s me!” he brags.

The boy claps his hands to his cheeks in amazement, beaming. “That’s so cool!” he cheers. “You really are a tiny alchemist, just like everyone says!”

Ed stiffens, smoke billowing from his ears as an angry red flush begins to creep up his neck. “What was that, you brat?” he grits out through clenched teeth, raising his fist in a vague threat toward the boy. “Say it again and I’ll send you flying!” he warns, leaning down closer to hiss in the boy’s face. “Do you hear me? Your little body will go flying right into space!”

But the boy only seems even more enthused, clapping his hands together softly. “Wow!” he exclaims, giggling in delight; “So that’s true too—you hate being called small, just like everyone says!”

A fire lights up in Ed’s eyes, and you blink; when you open your eyes, there are two men in suits flanking your friend, their pistols aimed squarely at his head.

Your breath catches in your throat, heart jolting painfully against your ribcage. “Ed!” you gasp, taking a step forward, and one of them turns, pointing their gun at you instead; you stop in your tracks.

“Step away from Master Selim,” the other orders Ed harshly, and you all blink as the words wash over you.

But the boy is waving his arms, yelling, “Wait! Don’t shoot them!!” and they lower their guns.

You gape down at the boy. “‘Selim’?” you repeat, incredulous. “Are you Selim Bradley?”

“Selim Bradley?” Al steps forward, and you can imagine sweat dripping down his face. “As in, the Führer’s son?!”

He beams up at you proudly, a wide smile plastered across his young face. “Yup!” he confirms with a little chuckle; “That’s me!”

※※※

And so, that’s how you wind up in the living room of the Führer’s home, seated across from his wife and son on the couch.

You shuffle your feet nervously on the zebra-print rug, taking in the decor around you. It’s rather… generic, you suppose, looking much like you would expect any other living room to look like—much like your own living room back at home in Resembool; the only difference is in the immaculate quality of the furniture, and the richness of the hue of the upholstery beneath you.

Ed pretends to scratch his nose, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he whispers up at the two of you. “How did this happen?!” he gushes, cutting his gaze over to you wearily. “We were supposed to be heading north!”

But you can only shrug in helpless response as Mrs. Bradley leans forward on her seat across from yours. “Excuse me,” she presses, crossing her ankles delicately; the three of you jump and look back at her, where she’s smiling at you. “I’m so sorry,” she tells you; “It’s just that my son has been in awe of you for such a long time, you two!” she explains, glancing between you and Ed.

The hair on your arm stands up on end as a wave of surprise washes over you. Us, in particular? you think to yourself, nervousness beginning to pool in your gut. 

But Ed and Al don’t seem to be too worried. Ed leans forward, peering at the boy. “Us?” he asks, jerking his thumb between you and himself. “Really?”

“Are you interested in alchemy, Selim?” asks Al politely, watching the boy kick his legs where they dangle over the edge of the seat.

“Yes!” the boy cheers, waving his arms in excitement. “My dream is to learn how to practice it!” he explains. “After that, I want to become a State Alchemist, just like you guys!”

You can practically see Ed’s head swelling in size as the compliment goes straight to it. He begins to laugh awkwardly, placing a hand to his forehead and beaming under the complement. “Just like me, huh?” he chuckles, but the wary feeling only grows deeper in your gut.

And then the boy smiles up at you, and says something particularly chilling. “When that happens…” he says eagerly, staring up at you and Ed as he glances between the two of you. “...then I’ll be able to help my father out!”

You exchange a quick glance with the boys. “Right; the Führer,” you muse, trying to sound casual as your heart beats faster in your chest. “Hey Selim… would you say that you and your father are pretty close? Do you guys get along well?”

The boys beams up at you, excited. “Yeah, of course!” he agrees.

“Well, what’s he like?” you push, trying to figure out what he knows. “We’ve only ever see him in short bursts on rare occasions, so we don’t know really him that well.”

Selim brings one hand in front of his chest excitedly. “He’s an amazing man!” he cheers, a huge smile across his young face. “His job is more demanding than anybody else’s in the whole wide world! He spends all day, every day, thinking about the people of this country!”

You feel the knot of suspicion begin to loosen slightly at his gleeful tone, the expression of pride and admiration on his face as he brags about his father.

You chuckle nervously. “I bet he does,” you say, adding a dark undertone to the words that only the boys would pick up on.

“Say,” injects Al, his hands on his knees as he tries not to take up too much room on the couch he shares with the two of you; “The Führer’s duties must keep him very busy all the time!”

Mrs. Bradley lets out a hefty sigh, and then musters up a smile. “Well, that’s true,” she agrees reluctantly, smoothing down the edge of her skirt. “It’s something he always insists upon!” She lets out a chuckle. “He’s always working himself ragged. At his age, I honestly wish he’d take it a little easier!” Her smile turns wistful. “It’s nothing new—he’s always been devoted to his work. That’s what he’s good at!” 

She chuckles again, shaking her head. “Now, where women are concerned, I’m afraid he’s a bit of an oaf!” she jokes, and Selim blinks up at her in surprise. “The first time we met, he actually made me so mad that I slapped him!” she confesses, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting that from the polite woman you see before you.

She waves her hand dismissively through the air. “It worked out in the end,” she explains. “He asked me out after that, and our first date was amazing!”

There’s no way this woman has any idea about her husband, you realize, listening to way that she speaks about him. She’s genuinely in love with the man; she’s not in on it!

The woman places her fingers on her chin, embarrassed. “Oh, listen to me ramble!” she gushes, flushing slightly. “I sound just like some school girl!”

You smile up at the woman, and the door against the wall swings open. The thud of footsteps fills the room, and you glance up to see who it is, expecting to see a maidservant carrying a tray of tea-sandwiches that she’d requested for you, but that’s not who you find.

Instead, Führer Bradley comes thumping into the room, his arms crossed rigorously behind his back. He stares down menacingly at you and the boys, not seeming particularly thrilled to find you in his house, and you gulp. Oh great! you fret anxiously. Now he probably thinks we’re trying to look into him behind his back!

Selim rushes toward his father, throwing himself at the man and wrapping his arms around his long legs in a hug. “Dad’s home!” he cheers as Mrs. Bradley greets her husband warmly. “Hello, Daddy!”

You stare at the boy. I guess he really doesn't know anything, you ponder, surprised. That’s strange; my gut is usually right!

But Führer Bradley lets out a low, rumbling laugh as he rubs Selim’s head, the boy grinning eagerly beneath his touch. “Well, hello there, my little one!” he greets fondly.

“What are you doing back home?” questions his wife, and he glances up at her with a smile. 

“I had some free time for a change,” he explains, “so I decided to check in on my family!” He glances up at you and the boys, but he’s carefully masking any malice that might seep into his gaze in front of his family. “I also heard,” he informs you casually, “that the Fullmetal and Smokebomb Alchemists were paying us a visit!”

Ed smiles wanly and waves up at the man. “Hello, Sir!” he greets weakly, and you feel your palm begin to sweat nervously.

“Long time, no see!” Al chimes in, rubbing his knees anxiously.

But the Führer begins to laugh, pinning the three of you beneath his sharp black gaze. “Long time?” he chuckles, patting his son’s head. “I just saw you at Central Command!”

※※※

The Führer settles back in his chair, sipping at his mug of tea as your own sits in front of you, cold and untouched. “So, Selim,” he recaps, glancing at the boy leaning against the arm of his mother’s chair; “...you ran into these three at the library?”

The boy smiles cheerfully. “Yep!”

There is a long moment of silence as the Führer takes a slow sip from his mug. You feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, tickling your skin, but you try to ignore it. 

Bradley glances up at the three of you, feeling the silence. “Are you wondering why he doesn’t look like us?”

Ed holds up one hand in a gesture of sincerity and denial. “N-No, Sir!” he stammers, and the uniformed man lowers his teacup onto the saucer on the table. “It didn’t even cross my mind!”

“Well, it’s because we aren’t related by blood,” the man explains anyway, crossing his legs with an old-man sigh—one that you’re certain is just for show.

Mrs. Bradley leans forward, adjusting her pearl necklace as she smiles down at her son. “We were unable to conceive any children of our own,” she tells you; “So we adopted Selim, and he’s our son now!”

“I’m proud of my boy!” Bradley explains, smiling fondly at Selim, who beams beneath his father’s large hand. “He’s grown into a fine and devoted son!”

The young boy chuckles. “Would you cut it out already, Dad?” he whines, but it’s clear that he doesn’t mean it, and that he’s pleased with the praise. “You’re embarrassing me!”

The Führer laughs. “But it’s the truth!”

You notice Ed staring bullets out of the corner of your eye, and you nudge him subtly with your elbow as the Führer begins to ruffle his son’s hair. The blonde glances at you, and you mouth at him, Be cool!

But it seems the man has already noticed the look on your friend’s face. He pins the boy beneath his one-eyed gaze. “What’s wrong, Elric?” he questions casually, causing the boy to jump slightly in his seat. 

Not wanting to answer every suspicious question yourself, you dig your elbow into the boy again, and he grits his teeth. “It’s just that, uh…” he gulps, glancing between the family of three before him nervously. “We’ve never seen you in such a casual setting,” he blabs, and you face-palm mentally. 

I guess that’s what I get for leaving it up to him!

But Al jumps on the opportunity, trying to make the excuse sound more believable. “Yeah!” he agrees, gesturing vaguely. “We usually only see him at the Command Center, so this is kind of weird!”

Ed chuckles nervously. “It’s a side of you we’re not used to seeing, that’s all!” 

“I see,” the man intones, staring warningly at your group. “But as you can see, even a man like me has a family waiting for me at home!” He strokes his son’s hair as his gaze continues to bore into you like a bullet. “I’m sure, of course, that it’s very different from yours back at home!”

There is something about his tone, some undercurrent that makes your blood run cold as you think about your family—birth, past, and present.

Their faces flash through your mind. Mom and Dad. Trisha. Granny, and Winry… 

Ed and Al.

In your mind, both boys are whole, healthy, and smiling, illuminated in radiant light that shines on their hair like liquid gold.

Gritting your teeth, you watch the Führer rise to his feet and begin walking toward the door. “Aw!” pouts Selim, reaching up to touch the top of his head where he’s missing his father’s hand. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he makes his way across the room. “You know I have duties to get back to, Selim!”

The boy dashes around his mother’s chair, standing in the middle of the room to watch his father go, a disappointed expression written across his face. He sighs sadly.

“Please,” he calls to the three of you over his shoulder, pausing before the door; “Make yourselves at home! You’re welcome any time—my State Alchemists!”

You can only interpret the words to be a jab about the conversation that you’d had the other day, when he’d threatened you into retaining your titles.

Tilting your head forward so that your hair covers the side of your face, obscuring your expression from the woman and child across from you, you glare bullets at the man, grimacing in anger.

※※※

You wave to the Führer’s family as you step out into the golden light of the setting sun. “Thank you for having us!” you say politely, smiling at the family.

The boys shout their own farewells over their shoulder as the three of you begin walking away. Once you’re out of earshot, Al speaks up. 

“It’s sad,” he remarks, shooting a glance at the pair over his shoulder. “Neither the Selim nor his wife have any idea what the Führer really is!”

You stare back at the family for a few moments, deep in thought, and then Ed takes off running. “Let’s go!” he urges, turning to wave the two of you on over his shoulder.

“Right!” You and Al begin to dart after him.

Ed pumps his arms as his feet slap the ground. “We’ll catch that little brat,” he huffs, “and find out everything that she knows about alkahestry!”

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

It’s been a long time since you’ve dressed so warmly. The last time you were this bundled up, you were still just a child, carefully wrapped up by Trisha’s loving hands, sent to play outside with the boys around your home in Resembool.

As you bury your nose in your scarf and dash after Ed through the train station, you reflect back on the memory with a fond smile.

The three of you burst out into the wintry air, your hair whipping around your face, and you stop in your tracks, taking in the scenic view before you.

The pristine white snow covers every visible surface of the small town before you, coating rooftops and lining bushes, reflecting the lights around with a wonderful gleam.

“Look, you guys!” you breathe, dropping your suitcase beside you in wonder. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen snow!” Delighted, you reach out a mitten-clad hand, letting a snowflake fall into your palm before bringing it up to your face to examine.

The three of you begin to carefully descend the slippery stairs to the town below, arms held out to the sides as you balance. To your right, Ed loses his footing, crying out in surprise as he skids on his butt down the snowy steps.

A bark of laughter rips its way from your lips in a visible cloud, swirling in the air around your head as you watch the boy rise to his feet, grumbling in frustration; he turns to gaze at his rear end, cursing under his breath as he swipes snow off of his jacket, his cheeks reddening further as your pealing laughter hits his ears.

And then, as you reach the last few steps, your own feet slip out from under you, and you land with a thud on the ground at the base of the stairs, blinking up at the blonde boy. Your own mocking laughter is turned against you as he rears back in delight, pointing a mocking finger at you as he cackles.

“Aw, shaddup!” you grunt playfully, flinging a handful of snow in his direction as you rise to your feet.

“You guys should be more careful!” calls Al as he makes his way down unscathed, his hands floating around the two of you. “Are you okay?”

You swipe snow off your own butt as you smile up at the boy. “Yeah, we’re okay!” you confirm as Ed brushes snow from his hair with a glare in your direction. 

“Urgh, speak for yourself!” he groans, rubbing at his back with a grimace. “I need to sit down for a minute!”

And so the three of you locate a nearby bench, and Ed throws himself down onto it with a huff of air.

“Jeez, you two,” remarks Al, rubbing the back of his neck as he peers at you and the blonde; “You guys are so uncoordinated!”

You blow a raspberry at the boy. “I prefer the term ‘selectively graceful’, thank you very much!” you tease.

Ed rubs at his back, glaring up at his brother. “Yeah, you shut up!” he agrees. “It was just a little slip, that’s all!”

Al chuckles lightly. “All this snow is pretty amazing, huh?” he remarks, sounding awed.

“Yeah, it is!” Ed agrees, his voice hushed as he peers out at the view. “We don’t get much snow like this back home, that’s for sure!”

You turn to the boys with a fond smile on your face. “Do you remember the last time it snowed back at home?” you push, memories dancing behind your eye. “That really heavy snowstorm we had when we were kids, and we got together with all of the other kids in town and played until our lips turned blue?”

You remember the sight of the little white farmhouse that you’d grown up in blanketed in a perfect, flawless layer of white, the sparkling stuff coating the ground as far as your eyes could see in every direction.

You can imagine a wide smile breaking out over Al’s face as he begins to wave his hands excitedly. “I do remember!” he cheers. “We had a snowball fight!”

Ed chuckles, his cheeks turning pink with the cold. “And we built a snowman using alchemy!” he recalls. “But we were the only kids who knew how to use it, so everyone else thought that we were so cool!”

You drag your toe through the snow beneath you as a smile plays over your face. “We never would’ve imagined, back then, that we’d be coming this far north some day,” you muse, rubbing your mittened hands together. “Our world used to be so much smaller. It’s kind of weird to think about, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Al agrees with a hum. “But we’re here now!”

Ed grabs his suitcase, rising to his feet with a grunt. “So,” he huffs, glancing back at the two of you. “Now what do we do? We’ve still got some time before our train to Briggs takes off!”

“Let’s take a walk,” you suggest, rising to your own feet and burrowing your mittened hand into your pockets. “Keep ourselves warm, see what we can see.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Al agrees. “We haven’t been to North City in a long time!”

Ed smirks and takes off running. “Come on, you guys!” he calls over his shoulder, kicking up snow behind him as he dashes away. “Let’s go check this place out!”

“Brother, slow down!” chastises Al, jumping to his feet. “You’re going to fall again!”

You turn to grab your suitcase from off the bench behind you, but Al moves quicker than you can react, showing off his gentlemanly side as he grabs  the handle before you can reach for it. “Let me get that for you!” he offers, scooping the bag up to rest at his side.

You dimple up at boy, thankful for the sweet gesture, and then the two of you dash off after the blonde whirlwind ahead.

(A/N: Click here for a deleted scene—it's canon.)

※※※

You shiver viciously, burrowing deeper into your fur-lined black coat as the horse-drawn cart rattles along on the snowy path. You rub your mitten-clad hands together, trying to generate some frictional warmth for your numb fingertips. Your teeth chatter as you sniffle miserably, the cold air causing your nose to run.

Ed elbows you in the ribs. “What, are you cold or something?” he asks, pulling his hood down lower over his head. He glances behind him at the path ahead. “We’re not even at the mountains yet—it’s only going to get worse from here!”

You glare at the boy beside you as your body trembles. “Y-You’re n-not cold?” you stutter, trying not to bite your tongue. “W-We’re too damn small for weather like t-this!”

A vein pulses in his forehead. “Speak for yourself!” he snaps hotly. “I’m not too small for anything!” 

But after a moment, his face softens, his golden eyes seeming like liquid sunlight as he gazes down at you. “C’mere,” he says suddenly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight against him. 

You feel your cheeks redden from more than just the cold as you stare up at him. “W-W-What’re you d-doing?” you stammer, thankful for the warmth in the tips of your ears as you feel blood rushing up in them to color them pink.

He glances away from you, his own cheeks dusty pink despite his claims to not feel the cold. “We can’t have you freezing to death before we even get there,” he teases, and Al nods thoughtfully. 

“It is smart of you to stay close to conserve body heat,” he remarks, glancing down at his own gauntlets, dejected. “Sorry I can’t help much with that,” he says sadly.

You frown, turning to say something, but the cart jolts to a halt. The three of you glance up at the driver, who is looking at you over his shoulder. “Alright, kids,” he huffs, his breath visible in the frigid air. “This is where I let you off!”

You glance around at the barren wasteland around you, the mountains visible in the distance. “Here?” you demand, leaning into Ed’s warmth as you stare up at the man, appalled. “This is the middle of nowhere!”

His lips quirk up in a faint smile. “Not exactly,” he informs you, and then points off to his right, off of the main path that you’re on. Squinting down the way, you can see that there is indeed a winding trail there, albeit covered in a thick layer of snow. “If you follow this mountain road, it’ll lead you straight to Fort Briggs!” he explains as the three of you hop off the back of the cart. 

You squint against the blinding snow, raising one arm to shield your eye as you press yourself again against Ed’s side.

“Okay, thanks!” says the boy, waving at the man over his shoulder with the arm not wrapped around you. He opens his mouth to say something to you and Al, but the man speaks again.

“You there, in the armor,” he calls out, and Al turns to look at him, cocking his head to the side. “Is that automail?”

The fingers of your left hand twitch at the question as Al shakes his head. “No…?”

“Oh, okay,” the man responds, glancing away. “I guess you’ll be alright, then.”

You step forward. “Why do you ask?” you probe, gripping your arm subconsciously, and the man glances at you. 

“Briggs mountain is a cold place,” he says, lowly. “Makes your gears freeze up. You should probably take those earrings out, too, girl; otherwise, your ears might well fall off!”

Your face goes pale as your mittens fly up to your pierced ears. You begin to fumble at the cold metal, but your fingers are blocked by all the fabric and you sigh in frustration, tilting your head toward Ed and presenting your ears in his direction.

He is wearing gloves—much more dexterous than your mittens—and he makes quick enough work removing the lower few rings for you, although you do have to instruct him on how to remove the pair at your helix.

Mumbling a thank you, you slip the earrings into your coat pocket, and when you glance back at the road, the man is already making his way back.

He shouts something over his shoulder, but the icy wind snatches his words away, and you can’t make out what he says at all. You try to shout after him, but it seems that he can’t hear you, as he does not respond.

Eyeing the long road ahead of you, you sigh, your breath curling in the air. “At least the hike should warm me up a little,” you mutter, trying to stay optimistic.

※※※

You shudder violently against the cold, the snowy wind whipping in your face as you tuck your freezing nose into your scarf. 

So much for that idea! you think to yourself bitterly, your toes numb in your boots.

Visibility is about an arm’s-length in front of you as the wind blows furiously, fresh snow falling from above mixing with snow picked up off the ground to create a blinding mist.

“Fuck,” you mutter, frustrated; “I know they said that the weather here can get nasty fast, but this is crazy!”

You are at the front of a conga-line you’d formed with the boys, Ed gripping the back of your jacket and Al gripping his, making sure that nobody gets separated from each other as you use an alchemical smoke-screen to map out the area ahead. You have to concentrate hard on keeping the molecules gathered together in the harsh wind, while also being able to move enough to shift around a tree or boulder, or feel a cliff edge coming up.

For the fourth time in an hour, your feet slip on a hidden patch of ice, sending you face-planting into the snow before you, dragging Ed down after you as you fall, only Al able to retain his footing.

“Jeez, Echo!” complains Ed, rubbing his aching forehead behind you as the two of you rise to your feet. “Are you trying to knock my teeth out or something?”

You cast a glare furiously over your shoulder. “Yes, Ed,” you bite out, shouting to be heard over the howling wind. “I’m having such a nice time slamming my face into the snow, just because I want to bother you!” Behind you, the boy rolls his eyes, and you leer at him as you turn to face forward again, concentrating on maintaining your smokescreen. 

“What do we do now, you guys?” asks Al, the only one who is unaffected by the blistering cold and roaring wind. “Echo, you’re not going to be able to keep this up forever!”

You grit your teeth, wiping your runny nose with a rag in your pocket. “I’ve still got a good bit left in me,” you tell him, squinting against the snow in your eye. “I’m not getting tired just yet!”

“We’ll be fine!” Ed cuts in, his teeth chattering in the cold. “Teacher got thrown out here for a whole month when she was in alchemy training, and she survived!”

You hear Al scoff. “No way!” he argues with the tone of a man who’d been disillusioned. “She couldn’t have lived in this for an entire month!”

“Sure she could!” argues Ed, shuffling his feet through the thick snow behind you. “She even killed a bear!”

You snort. “I agree with Al—I think it’s bullshit!” you huff. “The bears around here are like, 15 feet tall! Teacher might be tough, but an angry Briggs Bear is definitely tougher!”

Suddenly, you feel the molecules of your smokescreen shift behind you. 

Whirling around and sending the boy clinging to your jacket lurching forward, you see a huge figure rear up behind Al.

The three of you let out a combined shout of fear and you hear the boys begin to transmute as you send your smokescreen blaring across the creature’s head, scratching up the skin of their face as the sandpaper of your alchemy blasts past.

The wind shifts directions and you see that your attacker is not, in fact, a Briggs Bear, but instead a man, raising a huge automail arm in the air unlike any you’ve ever seen. You can’t make out all the details as he swings the arm down toward you and the boy, causing the three of you to leap back in alarm.

You hear Al let out a surprised exclamation, and when you turn, he is trapped inside a steel net, flailing as he tries to escape.

“Alphonse!” shouts Ed, turning to glance at his brother as you grit your teeth at your attacker.

“Hey, just wait a second!” you holler, waving your arm at the man. “Are you wearing a military uniform?!”

The man ignores your question completely, although you’re certain that you see the royal blue of the military beneath his flapping black jacket. He directs his next words at Ed, eyeing the sword he’d transmuted onto his metal arm. “Well, it looks like some pretty mediocre stuff, but you’ve got automail too, eh?”

Ed scoffs. “Mediocre?” he repeats, glaring at the man’s scissor/chainsaw combo of a monstrosity he calls automail. “Just because mine’s not tacky like yours?”

The man sneers, holding the arm in front of him so that the two of you can inspect it. “Fools!” he snaps, the metal gleaming in the light reflected off the snow below. “Obviously, you don’t know a good weapon when you see one! This right here is combat automail, model number M19-13-A— Crocodile!” He points the chunk of metal and you and the boys threateningly. “Now surrender peacefully, you miserable Drachman spies, or I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do!”

You draw up short. “Spies?” you repeat, aghast. “Is that what this is about?! We’re not spies, for fuck’s sake—!”

But the man is already launching forward, throwing himself at you as you leap backward, dodging the blow.

“Hey, don’t you hear what she’s saying, moron?!” shouts Ed, having dove to the other side to avoid the hit. He bares his teeth at the man angrily. “We’re State Alchemists, stupid!”

The man halts, his automail revving menacingly, its roar ringing out through the snow. “Say that again?” he growls, cutting his eyes sideways at you.

Scowling, you stomp your foot at him, fishing out your pocket-watch from inside of your jacket, letting the light reflect off the metal casing as you flash it at the man. “We’re the Smokebomb and Fullmetal Alchemists!” you shout. “And that’s our brother, Alphonse!”

Suddenly, a woman’s angry voice rings out nearby. “Buccaneer!”

Turning, you see the snow begin to clear, and a huge metal wall looms into view. “What the hell?” you mutter as Ed and Al rejoin you by your side. “Is that Fort Briggs?”

Ed sweat drops. “You mean we’ve been right here this whole time?”

Glancing up, you see a beautiful woman standing atop the wall, glaring down at your group. Her blonde hair blows loose in the wind, her piercing blue eyes staring down at you, her full lips twisted into a frown.

She is both the most stunning woman you’ve ever seen, and the most terrifying.

“Buccaneer!” she snaps again, darting her sharp gaze over toward the man at your side. “Who are they?”

Hastily, the man falls into a salute. “I—I’m sorry, General Armstrong!” he stammers, standing at attention; “I didn’t see you there! I apologize for the disturbance!”

You stare up at the woman, realizing that this must be the sister that Major Armstrong was so afraid of. Staring up at her cold, beautiful gaze, her black jacket snapping in the wind over her military uniform, you can’t help but echo his sentiment as a shiver runs down your spine.

Gulping, you reach into your jacket and retrieve the letter that the Major had given you. You wave it through the air like a white flag of surrender, making sure that the woman can see. “My name is Echo Slade; I’m the Smokebomb Alchemist!” you call up to her warily, licking your lips, which are chapped from the cold. “These are my friends, Alphonse Elric and his brother Edward—the Fullmetal Alchemist! You’re Major General Olivier Armstrong, right? We have something for you; Mister Armstrong in Central told us to give it to you right away!”

But the woman does not look impressed. She points her finger at you, and the people flanking her sides step forward and raise their guns, taking aim at you and the brothers. “Search them!” she snaps as you stare up at the barrels of the guns in shock.

“W-What?” you stammer, taking a step back. “But—But we’re with the military! I just told you that!”

Several white-clad soldiers in wintry military gear step forward out of the gusting winds, gathering around to pat you and the boys down. “I heard you,” the woman agrees with a harsh nod. “But how do I verify that? Anybody can claim to be somebody famous!”

You glare up at the woman as a soldier begins skimming his hands over your arms and torso. “Maybe try reading the damn letter?” you mutter sarcastically, but not loud enough that the woman can hear you.

Your breath catches in your throat as the masked stranger’s hands skim down your leg, patting over your boot where your new gun rests, knowing that the boys wouldn’t be happy to see you carrying such a thing, but the soldier doesn't seem to notice the tiny weapon that you have stashed inside.

After inspection, they pluck the letter from your hand, running to deliver the letter to Olivier’s side. “General!” he salutes as he passes her the note.

“Just read that!” urges Ed as she glances the envelope over in her hands, turning in back and forth to examine both sides. “It should explain everything!”

She peers at the back of the envelope, taking in the wax seal. Then, she scoffs. “It’s from Alex alright!” she agrees, and then neatly rips the sealed letter to shreds, letting the scraps of paper drift from her fingers to dance in the wintry air.

You stare, aghast. “That’s it?!” you demand hotly, brows quirking with frustration. “You’re not even going to read it?!”

The woman scowls. “A letter of introduction means nothing to me!” she tells you loftily, tiling her nose in the air. “I don’t put much stock in other people’s opinions about a person; I much prefer to judge the people I meet with my own eyes!”

Those eyes glare down at you, flames burning brightly within. As the wind carries the scraps of paper away, it begins to clear the air of snow, as well, and you see the true scope of the Great Northern Wall of Briggs.

Aptly named, you realize, taking in the sheer size of the metal wall that towers before you.

“It’s amazing!” breathes Al in wonder, and Ed can only seem to let out a small nod in agreement, his eyes wide as he takes in the wall.

“It’s huge!” he agrees.

The woman glares down at the three of you hotly. “You may enter, young alchemists,” she tells you over her shoulder as she turns and begins walking away. “But be warned—I won’t coddle you because you’re children! This is the mountain fortress; only the strong survive here!”

Gritting your teeth against the cold, you incline your head with determination. 

We are the strongest! you think to yourself bitterly. We have to be!

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

“Exposure?” you repeat, blinking up at the doctor as she places a warm compress on your shoulder.

The woman clicks her tongue, stepping back and eyeing you and Ed warily. “That’s right,” she agrees. “You two got lucky—you both were close to frostbite! You need to be careful walking around in a snowstorm, or else the flesh that’s touching your automail will freeze!” she scolds. “And you need to oil it, too, or it will stiffen!”

Ed grips his shoulder, glancing up at the doctor. “So, does that Buccaneer guy have a different kind of automail or something?” he questions, recalling the giant of a man that you’d squared off with outside the wall.

As if he’d been summoned by Ed’s mention of him, the man bursts into the room, his footsteps echoing heavily in the silence. “The General sent me to check up on these three,” he rumbles. “Are you talking about me in here, Doc?”

“Great timing!” the woman cheers, gesturing to a chair nearby. “Take a seat and let me show these kids your automail!”

After a bit of grumbling and protesting, the large man settles down, and the doctor makes a show of pointing out different aspects of the mechanical beast of an arm. “Up here, your automail needs to be flexible,” she explains, grabbing a wrench and absently tightening a loose bolt. “It also needs to be resistant to the cold. After some trial and error, we were able to find an alloy that works.” She taps the arm thoughtfully, rattling off components. “A combination of duralumin, carbon-fiber, nickel, copper, and so on!”

The big man scoffs, snatching his arm back as he glares down at the doctor, her spiky blonde hair sticking out in all directions. “Hey Doc, you’re just going to go and tell them all of our secrets?” he demands, pressing a few buttons on his arm that cause the metal claw to collapse in on itself, folding up to compress neatly inside of the thick forearm, revealing a regular metal hand in its place.

You gape at the man, amazed that his automail was able to change forms like that without the use of alchemy. You’ve heard of weaponized automail before, of course—you remember Paninya’s cannonball-slinging knees with a shudder—but you’ve never seen a model that was able to change in such a way on its own.

The woman blinks up at the muscled man, pushing up her glasses with one finger. “Why shouldn’t I?” she counters. “They’re State Alchemists, after all—they have a right to know, don’t they?”

The man blusters as Ed brandishes his pocket-watch with a smirk, letting the light reflect of its metal surface. “T-They were serious?” he demands, incredulous. “The girl said that before, but I was sure she was lying!” He peers back and forth between you and Ed, still seeming taken aback as he realizes that the two of you outrank him, having the equivalent rank of a Major, thanks to your title.

The woman crosses the room and pours two cups of coffee. “If you’re going to be in the North for long,” she urges you, “then you should probably switch to a different kind of automail. Do you have a mechanic?”

You begin shrugging your layers back on. “Yeah, we do, but she’s in Rush Valley!”

The woman turns to face you, surprised. “And she let you come up North without explaining this to you?” she asks, dubiously raising an eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” Ed shrugs, stuffing his feet into his boots. “We didn’t tell her we were planning on coming up here!”

The doctor walks over and passes you and Ed each a mug. You cradle the hot beverage to your chest, relishing in the warmth as it spreads through your fingers, the steam curling around your chin.

“I recommend you send for her,” the woman advises, watching as the boy sips at the mug. “...Assuming you’d like to stay alive!”

You and Ed exchange a glance, not eager to drag your friend all the way up here in the freezing cold… but what has to be done, has to be done. “Fine,” he sighs, stuffing his other hand into his pocket with a scowl. “We’ll give her a call!”

The doctor leans forward with an eager grin. “Great!” she cheers, reaching her palm out to the two of you. “That’ll be 200 Cens for the coffee!”

You snort, the hot liquid shooting up into your nose as you choke. “W-What?” you rasp, hacking around beverage.

Ed sighs and flips two coins into the doctor’s waiting hand. “It’s not even that good!” he grumbles under his breath, glaring down at the mug in his hand.

The woman chuckles, sliding the coins into her pocket. “This is the North,” she says with a sly smile. “Get used to it!”

“So,” Captain Buccaneer says, stepping forward and crossing his arms over his burly chest. “You two come up here with mediocre automail, completely ignorant about the North, and then try to bypass the Command Center?” he summarizes, and Ed begins to bluster defensively. 

“Oh, come on!” he snaps, leaning forward hotly to glare up at the man. “We hiked all the way up here, two State Alchemists with an official letter of introduction, and this is how we’re treated? What’s wrong with you people?! Do you have no sense of propriety?! That damn General tried to tear my arms off!”

Just then, the door to the infirmary slides open, and there, standing in the doorway and glaring down at the boy, is the General. “Hello there, you little runts,” she greets, her voice just as cold as the storm outside, and the two of you wilt beneath insult. “If you have a problem, now is the time to speak up!” she urges, her hands on her hips, plump lips pulled into a frown.

You stare up at the woman with a weak, watery grin, your hands raised in surrender. “N-No!” you stammer hastily, tripping over your words as you kick Ed in the shin behind you. “No problem; no problem at all! T-Thank you for your hospitality!”

The woman crosses the room and sits in the Doctor’s chair at the desk in the corner, crossing her legs casually as her assistant takes up a position nearby. He is a dark-skinned man with a pair of tinted goggles concealing his eyes. His hair and sideburns are white, although he doesn’t appear to be particularly old.

But you don’t have much time to think about him as the Major General pins you and the boys beneath her icy blue gaze. “Well now,” she says lowly, reaching for a framed photo on the desk and examining it casually. “I hear that you’re quite close to my brother, Alex.”

She glances up at you from over the photo. “Is he doing alright?” she asks curtly, as though it’s strictly business.

You and the boys blink, awkward beneath the intensity of her eyes. “Y-Yeah!” you stammer, scratching the back of your head. “Big and strong as always… practicing the art forms that have been ‘passed down the Armstrong line for generations’, as he says!” You smile hesitantly, letting out a forced chuckle. 

“He’s doing great!” you reiterate, confused when you see a fierce scowl break out over her face.

She lets out a low growl. “No matter!” she says finally, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword, propped up on the ground before her. “Tell me why you would bypass the Command Center to meet me!” she orders, glaring up first at you, then at Ed, and finally, Al. “I want to know it all—including why your armor is empty!”

You and the boys exchange a shocked glance, unsure of how she could possibly know just by looking at the boy.

“Actually,” Ed inserts, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he averts his gaze; “That’s not something we really like to talk about…”

The doctor shrugs at you, placing her hands on her hips as Buccaneer crosses his meaty arms over his chest. “There’s no reason to worry,” she posits. “Everybody around here has plenty they want to hide. Everybody up North has something that he or she doesn’t like to talk about.”

Ed looks up at General Armstrong dubiously. “But if this information reaches certain ears, we could be court-martialed!” he argues, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you shuffle your feet.

The woman glares at the three of you. “Even I have secrets like that!” she snaps, tapping her fingers on hilt. “Now, spill it!”

You lean forward, mouth twisting reluctantly. “I don’t know Ed,” you muse quietly, your voice skewed low so that only the boys can hear. “I don’t want to, but I think we have to tell her the truth!”

He cuts his eyes sideways to you. “But Winry is still a hostage!” he says, as if you need to be reminded.

Al leans in close as well. “Maybe you can do it without mentioning the Führer or the homunculi?” he offers quietly.

“Just tell her about us!” you urge. “Just that we’re trying to get our bodies back, nothing else!”

The woman slams her fist on the desk beside her. “What are you whispering about?!” she snarls, her eyes burning as she glares at your group. “Start talking, now!”

※※※

The woman looks at the sketch you’d done of Xiao Mei, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I see,” she muses, peering at the three of you over the paper. “So that’s why you’re looking for this girl with the little panda!”

She places the paper down on the desk beside her. “I understand,” she says coolly, lowering her gaze, and you and the boys lean forward eagerly. 

“So you—?”

“I’m not finished!” she barks, her voice a low boom that sends you reeling backwards. “What I understand is this: you three are a bunch of reckless wretches who cause trouble with every last thing you do!” She scoffs. “I don’t want people like you in my fort! Honestly, how could the people at Central let these three run around loose?!” She glares viciously at the three of you. “Get out of here, right now!” she snarls.

You and the boys blink up at her, aghast.

After a moment, she shifts, crossing her arms over her chest as she lowers her gaze. “...Or at least, that’s what I want to say,” she remarks; “But I’m interested in alkahestry!”

She glares up at you, pinning you beneath her icy gaze again. “You three!” she snaps, glancing between each of you in turn. “You’re acquainted with this girl from Xing? You’ve met her before?” You let out a curt nod, and the woman places her hand on her chin, her eyes appraising. “She has a skill our country doesn’t, right?” she muses. “You can never know too much, especially here in the North, right next to Drachma!” A small smirk crosses her beautiful features. “If we use it right, alkahestry could make an excellent weapon!”

Al steps forward. “Wait a second!” he cries out, raising his hand toward the General in dismay. “Alkahestry is specialized for medical purposes!” he pushes, his red eye-lights trapping the woman beneath his gaze. “You can’t just—!”

But she doesn't look impressed. “Be quiet!” she snaps, cutting her arm through the air dismissively. “You’re nothing but lapdogs, living safely within your city walls! But we are the ones who protect you! We few, who are brave enough to defend the country’s border!” She nods her chin to the others in the room, the soldiers that serve the Northern Wall of Briggs—both the place and the woman alike. “My job is far more perilous than yours! I will make use of any knowledge I can get my hands on!” She rises to her feet, clenching her fist around the hilt of her sword as she glares down at the three of you. “Leave the task of finding this alkahestry girl to me! You three will stay here, inside the fort!”

She crosses the room in a few quick paces, calling out to the dark-skinned man over her shoulder. “And Major Miles!” she intones, and the man steps forward. 

“Yes, Ma’am?”

She turns to cast a glare at your group over her shoulder as she slides the door open, a malicious smile on her face as she barks, “Put them to work!”

“Huh?” blurts out Ed, glancing up at her in disbelief.

She pins the protesting boy beneath her gaze. “A man who does not work, does not deserve to eat!” she recites, the words seeming to be a mantra of sorts, and you wilt beneath the weight of the words.

“You have a point,” you and the boys mumble together, none of you wanting to be freeloaders.

※※※

The dark skinned man—Major Miles, the General had called him—leads you and the boys down the stark metal corridors, the walls and ceiling lined with pipes carrying hot water and gasses throughout the compound. 

The man walks with his arms stiffly folded behind his back, his white hair tied in a small knot at the top of his head.

“So…” Ed drawls, trying to break the awkward silence as he blinks up at the man. “What kind of work will you have us be doing?”

But there is a beat of silence, and then another, and the man continues walking forward without a response.

The boy tries again. “That doctor said people around here have a lot of things to hide, too.” He peers up at the man, but he can’t seem to catch his gaze through the dark goggles. “So, what are you hiding, Major?”

More silence.

After a moment, you scowl with frustration. “We already know you can talk!” you snap hotly, stalking along after the man, waving your hand in front of him, seeking a response. “We heard you say something to Miss Armstrong!”

The man draws to a stop, turning to glare at you over his shoulder. “You will refer to the Major General by her title,” he growls, and you roll your eye subtly, well-accustomed to hearing that one.

You quite intentionally don’t use military titles (unless strictly necessary), using the lack as more of a jab against the whole corrupt military system rather than as a personal offense, but you’re used to people protesting against your insubordination. For the most part, the Führer himself is the only one whose title you will consistently use.

Whatever. You’ll wear the Major down eventually, just like you have with everybody else.

You’re not sure about the General, though; at least, not to her face. She’s a scary lady, after all—you don’t particularly want her to be mad at you!

Ed grumbles, stepping up beside you. “It’s not fair for you to ask all of the questions and not be willing to answer any!” he protests, and the man turns his attention on the boy.

“You really want to know my secrets?” he asks, his voice low in his throat, and he reaches up and removes his goggles.

He turns to face you, and you’re shocked to see red eyes staring down at you from his dark face.

An Ishvalan? All the way up here?!

An Ishvalan is always an incredibly rare sight to see, let alone as a soldier; their people were hunted very nearly to extinction during the war.

“I—I don’t understand!” stammers Ed, taking a surprised step back. “We were told that all the Ishvalan soldiers were purged before the War of Extermination!”

The man stares down at the three of you, his gaze piercing, just as red as your hair. “It’s true that Ishvalan blood runs in my veins,” he admits. “But my father and my grandmother were not from that region. They were… a different race,” he explains evasively, and then taps his temple. “My eyes are Ishavalan, though, as is my coloring; my grandfather’s blood runs strong.”

He fully turns to face you, glaring down at you and the boys beside you. “Amestrians,” he snaps, deep in his throat. “It was your people who destroyed the land of my grandfather!”

You take a moment to absorb his words. For an instant, you feel yourself begin to wilt, but then reason and anger begin to flare up in your chest. You step forward, scowling. “Maybe our people did,” you snap, “but we had nothing to do with that! We were just kids when the war started—you can’t possibly blame us!”

Ed glares up at the man beside you. “Ishvalans— your people—destroyed our countryside!” he agrees. “And one of you is responsible for murdering our friend’s parents!”

Al gapes at the two of you, shocked at your outburst. “You guys!” he gasps, and you imagine him sweating nervously. “Be careful! You shouldn’t speak to him like that!”

But you and the boy continue to glare up at the man, neither of you willing to back down. 

The destruction of your countryside was no more the fault of the man in front of you than the war was your own, of course, but that’s exactly the point that Ed is trying to make.

Finally, after a few moments of tense glares, the man begins to laugh, waving his hand through the air in amusement. “I’m sorry,” he chuckles, glancing down at Ed, who sweats faintly by your side; “But that’s the first time I’ve heard anybody give me that answer!”

You glance up at the man balefully. “What, were you testing us or something?” you probe, and the man chuckles again wryly.

“I know, it was rude,” he concedes, raising his hands defensively before his face tightens. “Ever since the war,” he explains, “Amestrians have always viewed me with a sense of guilt and pity. To be honest, I’m getting tired of it! But you two… you’re different, aren’t you?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, looking back and forth between the two of you, and his next words are quiet, seeming to be him thinking aloud. “Different… and yet the same,” he muses, and you feel your stomach flip at the words.

…What’s that supposed to mean? you wonder to yourself.

A blush warms your cheeks as you exchange a hasty glance with the boy at your side, his own cheeks red as you quickly glance away from each other.

“Well, Major,” Ed rushes out, turning his attention back to the dark-skinned man; “An Ishvalan tried to kidnap us, nearly killed us, and then, briefly, fought alongside us. After all that, my feelings are kind of complicated!”

“Besides,” you posit, rolling your eye, “I don’t think race is all that important. People are just people. Man or woman; young or old; Ishvalan, Amestrian, Xingese, or anything else—none of it matters. Everybody is equal.”

The man smirks, sliding his goggles back into place, seeming pleased by your words. Stepping back and raising a hand, he gestures for your group to continue, his footsteps a little less harsh this time.

After a few moments, he turns a corner, pressing a button on the wall nearby to call up the elevator. “Major Miles?” asks Ed, stepping forward behind the man. “Were you on active duty during the War of Extermination?”

The man’s mouth twists bleakly. “Yes,” he agrees; “I was. I’ve been under General Armstrong’s command since then. The war began right after I was posted here,” he explains, and you stare at his back as he speaks. “Many of my relatives, including my grandfather, were killed in the East. But I fell just outside of the military’s purge requirements, so I was stationed here.”

“How could you possibly stay enlisted after what they did to your people?” you ask him, tilting your head curiously; “To your family?”

The man smiles back at you, the expression both sad and amused. “You don’t understand how the world works now, do you?” he questions, and you bite your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing awkwardly down at your feet. “I know there’s still a bunch of stuff that I don’t know about yet; I still have a lot to learn. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The Major smirks as the elevator door slides open before him. “A State Alchemist with a lot to learn, you say?” he repeats, amusement toying over his lips. “How interesting!”

You pile into the elevator and he presses a button; the doors slide closed with a mechanical whirr. 

After a few moments of silence, he peers down at you. “I did resent the military’s actions,” he confesses, his back pressed against the metal wall. “I also had doubts about why General Armstrong would keep me as her staff officer. The presence of someone with Ishvalan blood could cause discord among the soldiers stationed here… It would have been easier for her to get rid of me.” 

You can’t read the expression in his eyes, being obscured by his tinted goggles. “Eventually, I just came right out and asked her!” he explains. “She told me many things that day, culminating in, ‘We don’t have the luxury of discrimination up here in the North’! She told me that all I needed to do was obey her at all times and she would accept me without question. She said my mixed blood made me strong, and that I was a valuable soldier to have on hand.”

A faint smile plays over his lips as he recalls the memory. “Her words made sense,” he explains, his voice open. “I knew that she was speaking without deception. I even went so far as to ask her, what if the Ishvalan blood within me cannot find it to forgive the military for what they’ve done to my people… Do you want to know what she said to that?”

You imagine the General’s voice speaking the words he recites. “‘Bring it!’” he quotes. “‘On behalf of the military, I will accept your challenge at any time!’ …That was it.”

You and the boys balk at each other as you imagine the fierceness that must’ve been in her tone. “What a scary lady!”

The man leads you through another set of doors, and you emerge out into a blast of wintry air, walking on a path that overlooks the edge of the wall, an icy fence blocking the way down. You shiver as the wind tickles the back of your neck, readjusting your scarf so that your hair sits beneath it, fanning over your back and shoulders like a blanket.

“Do you know what the law is here?” Miles presses, his breath billowing in the air around him as he leads onward.

“Survival of the fittest?” you guess, recalling everything you’ve heard about Briggs so far.

The man lets out a curt nod, his arms still folded neatly behind his back. “That’s right,” he agrees. “Without power, you die, and if you have it, you might just survive! That’s always been the law, 365 days a year.”

“It’s a simple life, really,” he continues as you stuff your hands in your pockets, curling your shoulders, cursing the day you decided to come to this frigid wasteland. “Race, ethnicity, and gender make no difference here.”

Suddenly, you’re being shoved roughly to the side. You bounce against the metal wall, and you turn to glance up at Ed, who is standing beside you with his arms extended. 

You open your mouth to snap at him, ready to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, when suddenly a huge icicle comes crashing down where you were just standing, shattering in an icy explosion as you feel the blood drain from your face.

“...Good save!” you mutter to Ed, feeling your heart slam against your ribcage. “Thanks!”

The boy rubs the back of his neck, grinning up at you. “No problem!”

The man turns to appraise the shattered ice on the ground. “Survival of the fittest in action,” he remarks, glancing back at the three of you. “You’re strongest as a team and you keep each other safe, so you survive, together!” His face tightens as the smirk drops from his face. “But you need to be strong enough to survive on your own, as well!” he warns, his tone grim. “You won’t always have each other around—you need to be able to protect yourselves, as well as each other!”

You take the time to chew on his words, but you don’t have time to ponder for long. Major Miles gestures up at the icicles hanging on the overhang above your head.

“These icicles all need to be scraped off,” he explains, and you stare up at the ice-covered ceiling, feeling your heart drop as he assigns you the task. “That’ll be your job for the day!”

You try not to whimper miserably as you imagine standing out here for hours, straining on your tip-toes in the freezing cold, struggling to scrape ice off the ceiling. 

This is going to be hell! you think to yourself pathetically, glancing back up at the man as he speaks again. Hell, but cold!

“When you’re done, one of my men will show you to your quarters,” he explains, gesturing to a few ice picks with elongated handles on leaning against the wall nearby. “Now, get to work!”

※※※

Alphonse has no difficulty knocking the icicles off the ceiling. He holds the ice pick easily in his hand, reaching above his head to tap along the base of the icy stalactites, sending them crashing to the ground at his feet to shatter into powdery dust.

You and Ed, on the other hand, are not so fortunate.

Standing on your tip-toes, your arms stretched taut above your heads, neither one of you has a hope of reaching even the tip of an icicle, hanging far out of reach overhead.

Rather than leaving your brother to do all the work while the two of you sit there and freeze, you decide to put your heads together and get creative.

That’s how you wind up perched precariously atop Ed’s shoulders as the boy wobbles beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as you reach up over your head with the pick, finally able to reach the icicles above.

“It’s working!” you call excitedly to the boy playing mule beneath you, knocking a chunk of ice to the ground at his feet. “I can reach!”

“That’s great,” he grumbles, stepping forward to line you up with the next icicle. “Make it quick, though—you’re heavy!”

You gape down at the boy in faux-offense, your hair billowing around your face in the wind. “Ed!” you exclaim, pressing a hand dramatically to your chest in horror. “Are you trying to call me fat?”

He snorts. “Hey, you said it, not me!”

“Hey! ” you shout back, and kick him in the ribs with your foot.

The boy lets out a huff of a laugh, the sound of amusement visible in the frigid air, curling around his ears before wafting away, dissipating in the mist.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rings out nearby. “Smokebomb?” it calls, disbelieving, causing you to glance around curiously. “Smokebomb, Fullmetal; is that you?!”

Much to your surprise, a gray-haired older man comes hurrying over to you, breaking through the fog, his own ice pick clutched in his fist.

“Mister Falman?!” You gape, shocked to see the member of Mustang’s unit all the way out here. “Mustang said they sent you to Northern Command!”

Ed slides you off of his shoulders and you gather yourself to your feet, the three of you staring up at the man in surprise. He smiles down at the three of you, scratching the top of his head, his breath coming out in little puffs of mist around his mouth and nose. “Yeah, I was there for a while,” he agrees. “Then they got sick of me and stuck me up here!”

Al steps forward, pointing to the new, gleaming star on the shoulder of his military jacket. “They promoted you!” he says excitedly, and the man beams, thumbing his nose proudly.

“Yeah, they did!” he agrees, trying not to act too proud of himself.

You smile up at the man, propping your ice pick against your shoulder, rubbing your hands together to try to warm them. “Congratulations!” you cheer. “That’s great news!”

Ed tilts his head beside you. “But if you got promoted,” he points out, gesturing to the pick the man is holding; “...then why do they have you knocking down icicles?”

“Yeah!” you snort; “I thought this was grunt work they had us doing! If they’ve got you doing something like this, then does that mean…?”

You and the boys gape up at the man simultaneously. “They took you off the career path?!” you all exclaim together.

For a moment, the man before you stands proud, his shoulders firm and straight as he stares ahead stoically. 

Then, you hear him sniffle loudly, and he bursts abruptly into tears, the salty liquid freezing in the air before in even gets the chance to hit the ground.

※※※

After a few hours of work, you’d managed to clear the ceiling, and you and the boys are now on a guided tour around the compound, led by Mister Falman.

Right now, you’re on an elevated walkway above a huge, open room, filled with tanks, snowmobiles, mech suits, and other weapons and transportation equipment. Soldiers and mechanics swarm below, scurrying around from place to place, seeming so small beneath you and you stand on the platform above.

“Behold,” Falman says, waving his hand at the scene below; “The Development Sector!”

You marvel at the mass of munitions below your feet, peering over the edge of the railing. “Wow!” you remark, the clang of metal and the faint voices of the workers below drifting up to your ears. “What’s all of this for?”

“It was General Armstrong’s idea!” he informs you proudly, waving his hand. “This department researches the country’s latest technology and develops them into weapons!”

Ed glances up at the man. “Does that include combat automail?” he asks curiously.

Falman smiles. “Yeah, it does!” he agrees, and then begins walking again down the pathway. “Come on,” he calls over his shoulder, waving for the three of you to follow him. “Follow me; I have something else to show you!”

He leads you to the end of the walkway, and you break out into a massive room. It is so expansive—the metal plain and barren everywhere your eye can see—that your footsteps echo loudly around you, the sound bouncing around and around. The huge space below is mostly empty, save for a series of enormous metal pipes that run across wall and floor.

“This is the lowest level of Fort Briggs,” Falman explains, leading the three of you along.

You hum to yourself contentedly, taking in the warm air as you rub your hands together, trying to bring your numb fingertips back to life. “Finally, some warmth!” you sigh happily. “A few minutes down here and maybe I’ll actually be able to feel my toes again!”

The older soldier’s lips quirk into a grin as he watches you revel, rubbing his own hands together to warm them. “All the Fort’s most important functions—its lifelines—come from here,” he explains. “Even if the Fort is under attack, this area will remain safe!”

You open your mouth to speak, but suddenly you’re being slammed into from behind. You stagger forward as a workman shoves his way between you and Ed, grumbling over his shoulder at you and the boy for standing in his way.

“Not a great place to stand!” he calls sarcastically behind him, not sparing a glance back at you. Your eyebrows quirk in frustration at the man’s rudeness, and you shoot a foul gesture toward his back.

“Over here!” urges another employee standing nearby, gesturing toward the huge metal pipe before him.

The man leans in close to the pipe, pressing his ear to the metal and listening intently. 

“It’s coming!” he declares, and your head tilts to the side curiously as he drops down onto his knees, pressing his ear to the metal floor beneath him this time. “From underground!” he adds, glancing up at his fellow worker.

You glance up at Falman. “What’s he talking about?” you ask curiously, but the soldier doesn’t get a chance to answer you as more employees come running over to the man with his ear against the ground.

“It sounds like… like someone’s digging through the rock!” he shouts, and the ground beneath your feet begins to shake.

You cry out in alarm, throwing your arms out to the side for balance as the metal begins to buck and sway beneath your feet.

“Maybe it’s spies from Drachma!” calls out a worker nearby. “They could be digging a tunnel under the floor!”

The man who’d bumped into you rises to his feet from the ground, sweat rolling down his forehead. “Whatever it is,” he says, panting nervously as the groan of shaking metal rings through the air; “...it’s close!”

A horrible grinding noise begins to ring through the air, getting louder and louder as the floor begins to shake more and more violently beneath you.

With a shout, you lose your balance, your feet knocked out from under you, sending you sailing to the floor. Before you can hit the hard stone beneath you, though, you feel a hand shoot out and grab your elbow, arresting your momentum. 

Glancing up thankfully up at Al, you rearrange your feet beneath you, regaining your balance as the grinding sound comes to a crescendo.

You can’t help but wince, cringing away from the sound and pressing your palms over your ears to try to muffle the shrieking groan. Your heart pounds in your chest, slamming painfully against your ribcage.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the ground near the employees burst open. An explosion of smoke, dust, and dirt fills the air, creating a cloud that curls and drifts lazily. The employees abandon ship, making a mad dash away from the scene of the action and coming to stand with you and the others against the far wall.

“What the hell is going on?!” you shout to the boys, watching in horror as a hulking beast of a man begins to claw his way up from the mighty crack in the earth. “What is that thing?!”

Ed staggers closer, gripping the shoulder of your jacket—you, him, and Al each supporting each other, a solid unit against the oncoming enemy.

It appears to be a man, for all intents and purposes—aside from the fact that he’s at least 15 feet tall and made of hulking muscle. His broad shoulders are impossibly wide, their width nearly equal to his height. His arms—bursting and bulging with muscles that ripple beneath the skin—are too long, swaying before him menacingly, his knuckles nearly grazing the floor. Greasy black hair hangs down over his head, and his wrists are bound with a pair of massive shackles, their chains shattered and hanging, rattling loudly in the air as they scrape over the stone.

You can hear the beast breathing, the air puffing in and out of his mighty lungs, sounding like a raging bull. His breath is hot, bursts of clouds visible even in the warm air of the room. He takes a few slow steps toward your group, his mighty footsteps quaking the ground beneath him with every footfall.

You don’t need to see the tattoo emblazoned on the back of his shoulder to know what he is—such a horrible beast could only be a homunculus!

※※※

Sweat trickles down the back of your neck as you stare up at the lumbering creature. 

Dammit! you think to yourself, hissing beneath your breath as you watch the creature take another hulking step forward. This is bad! Why is there a homunculus all the way up here?! Did they know that we came here to try to find a way to stop them?

Just how many of these freaks are there, anyway?! You grit your teeth, exasperated. They just keep coming up out of the woodwork!

Your fingers twitch as you stare up at the beast, ready to transmute at a moment’s notice. 

It stares back at you, unmoving for several moments. As every second creeps by, you feel your heart beat harder and harder, the anticipation a horrible weight dragging at your shoulders.

What is he waiting for?! you think to yourself desperately, your breath coming in ragged gasps, adrenaline coursing through your limbs and causing your hands to shake.

Then, slowly, a deep, rhythmic rumbling begins to fill the air.

You stare up in disbelief at the creature before you, slumped over and snoring as he falls asleep on his feet in the middle of Fort Briggs.

“W-What the hell?” stammers Ed loudly; “Is he sleeping?!”

With a snort, the creature pulls himself upright, blinking awake. He glances around himself slowly. “...What’s this?” he rumbles, his voice a low rumble, and it seems to you that this creature is more brawn than brain.

You glare up at the beast. “What are you doing here?” you demand. “Did that Father of yours send you to find us?!”

Al steps forward, his hands presented in an appeasing gesture. “But, you see—!” he stammers, tripping over his words; “We’re just trying to look for a way to get our bodies back! That’s all!”

The beast tilts his head, staring dumbly down at your brother. Slowly—very slowly—he reaches one meaty arm up, lifting it to scratch at the back of his head. “Why should I care… about you?” he says, his voice a rumbling drawl. 

You blink up at the beast, not expecting to hear that answer.

“Go dig a hole… So annoying!” he complains cryptically, turning and beginning to slowly lumber away, each step causing the ground to shake.

You and the boys glance at each other, you and Ed both sweating nervously as you try to put the pieces together.

Your brows knit together, your eye narrowing, thoughts whirring through your mind. “He’s… not here for us?”

Al leans in closer to whisper to you and his brother. “No,” he agrees, hushed; “I don’t think he’s heard about us from Father or Führer Bradley!”

Suddenly, a shot rings out through the air, and a bullet lodges itself in the ground between you and Ed. You let out a shout, staggering back, glaring daggers back up where it came from to find Captain Buccaneer sneering down at the three of you from an overlook, his gun drawn and smoking.

“Ah-ha!” he sneers, his long, thin mustache dancing through the air as he shouts down at you. “So you really are Drachman spies!”

You and the boys stamp your feet at the man, shouting up to him in unison: “No we’re not!”

But the man keeps his pistol fixed in your direction. “I saw you talking to the intruder like you knew who he was!” he accuses, and you scowl in exasperation as the monster stomps along behind you.

“No we weren’t!” snarls Ed, waving his hands through the air.

But the man above doesn’t seem convinced. “Your lies won’t fool me!” he warns.

Smoke practically billowing from your ears, you step forward, opening your mouth to shout up at the man again when suddenly, Al is grabbing you by the shoulder and dragging you to the side.

You stagger as a huge metal pipe crashes to the ground where the three of you were just standing.

Whirling, you turn to face the homunculus who’d thrown it. He is swinging his beefy head around, mindlessly attempting to take in his surroundings. “What… is this place?” he rumbles, beginning to slowly pace forward again. “This place… big!”

He lets out a huge sigh, making his way across the room with slow, lumbering steps as soldiers crowd forward along the overpass, pointing their weapons at the beast. 

“Can I… stop digging now?” he asks no one in particular, his gate slow and unerring as the rain of bullets begin to ricochet off his skin.

You gape, staring up at the beast. “They’re bouncing right off!” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief. “What the hell?!”

The chains attached to the beast’s wrists clatter with an ungodly sound as he lumbers his way mindlessly toward a mechanical platform on the floor, accidentally brushing the lever with a massive, meaty hand. 

The soldiers above begin to panic as the platform slowly raises, the gears creaking and groaning under the creature’s exceptional weight. The homunculus glances around, seeming surprised as he begins to rise through the air.

Ed grabs your hand, tugging and beginning to run for the overpass. “Come on!” he urges, calling to you and Al as he takes off. “Let’s see if we can help!”

The three of you start to sprint, looking for a way up to the overpass where the soldiers are clamoring above. Sirens are blaring, the noise nearly deafening as your feet pound against the ground beneath you, red lights pulsing in alarm. All around you is chaos, soldiers and mechanics scrambling frantically in all directions. 

One mechanic slams into you as he runs past, sending you staggering back, nearly tripping over yourself; Ed’s hand, clasped firmly in your own, is the only thing that keeps you upright.

You hear General Armstrong’s voice ringing out among the chaos, confidently shouting orders as you and the boys fight to make your way across the massive room, looking for a staircase or another rising platform—anything that can get you closer.

Gunfire rings out and a mighty blast shakes the ground with some sort of larger artillery—a tank firing, from the sound of it.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you fight your way through the chaos, trying to beat back fear to the darkest recesses of your mind, having no time for weakness at the moment.

Finally, you’re able to find a way up to the platform above, and just in time, too; soldiers are fleeing in all directions as huge chunk of metal hurtles through the air toward them, and Ed claps his hands to the ground fast enough to transmute a stone wall to block the oncoming blow.

You sigh in relief as the metal scrap falls to the ground with a loud clank, patting Ed on the shoulder as he crouches before you. “Good save!” you praise.

The three of you sprint your way over to Olivier Armstrong, who glares down at the three of you expectantly. “It’s no use!” you shout up at her as you approach, seeing that she’s perched atop a tank she’d rolled into the room. “No matter how much you hurt him, he can’t die!”

The woman glares down at you, clenching the hilt of her sword in her grip. “He can’t?” she challenges, pinning the three of you beneath her gaze.

Captain Buccaneer steps forward at the base of the tank, his own glare paling in comparison to the imposing woman above’s. “Just what are you saying?” he snarls. “How does a kid like you know something like that, huh?”

You catch your lower lip between your teeth as you turn to glance at the boys. 

I guess the jig is up, you think to yourself ruefully, glancing back up at the dark-haired Captain. “It’s because…” you say slowly, still reluctant to share the truth, terrified for Winry’s sake if Father or the Führer find out you’ve told anyone. “Because…!”

General Armstrong slams the bottom of her sheathed sword into the ground, glaring down at you fiercely. “Drop the act!” she demands, her hand on her hip as her blue eyes bore into you like a knife. “You will answer all of my questions, clearly and completely!”

You’re unable to look away as she pins you beneath her icy gaze, sweat dripping down the back of your neck as you stare up at her, trapped beneath the force of her eyes.

“First off—!” she demands; “How do you know that thing? Are you a Drachman spy?”

You stomp your foot, sick of having to repeat yourself again and again. “How many times do we have to tell you?” you snarl, gritting your teeth up at the woman. “ We’re not spies! ”

She does not linger on the question. Instead, she points the tip of her weapon at the lumbering beast nearby. “Is that thing a spy?”

You spare a quick glance at the lumbering homunculus, still glancing around, confused. “I highly fucking doubt it!” you scoff.

Her attention is still fixed on you. “Does that thing know you?”

You hesitate, staring up at the woman, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “No,” you say finally. “Apparently not.”

She glares down as she asks the penultimate question: “What is that thing?!”

You stare up at the woman, unable to look away as she keeps you pinned on the spot with the sheer force of her will. Your lips pull back over your teeth in a grimace as you hesitate. “I… I can't tell you that!” you bite out finally, setting your jaw as you glare determinedly at the vicious woman before you.

But she doesn't press, not right now—having other, more important questions to ask.

“Who does that thing work for?” she demands, and a growl bubbles up in your throat.

You lean forward, your eyebrows twitching in frustration as you shout up at the woman. “I can’t tell you that either!” you snap.

You feel your hands shaking as the woman pierces you with a fierce glare. “ Why can’t you tell me?” she persists vehemently, and you grit your teeth up at her.

It’s almost impossible, but finally, you manage to wrench your eye away from her gaze. You glance back at Ed and Al, sweat coating your back, a pleading expression written across your face.

What do I do? you ask them silently, needing their help. What do I say?

But Al’s expression is unreadable, and Ed doesn’t have any answers for you. 

You turn back to face the woman, gritting your teeth. “There’s a hostage involved,” you bite out, your voice low and hushed so only she and the boys can hear you. “Someone we care about. That’s all I can tell you!”

There is a long moment of silence. Her glare is grating as it drags you down like a lead weight, sinking your feet heavily into the floor.

Finally, she speaks again. “This is my last question,” she promises, her blonde hair tumbling around her face as she shifts her gaze between the three of you. 

“Are you on our side?” she asks finally, eyes burning. “Or are you in league with that thing?”

Finally, an easy question! You let out a small breath, relieved to finally be able to answer something less stressful. “We’re not with him,” you promise her, gesturing around at her soldiers around her. “We didn’t call him here, and we don’t want anybody here to get hurt!”

The General examines your face closely, looking for any sign of dishonesty, but you’re not lying and you have nothing to hide from her. You stare back at her, your gaze open and honest, and finally, she frees you from her glare.

She turns her attention back to the beast, lumbering around, leaving destruction in his wake. “Then tell me what that thing is made of!” she demands.

You take a moment to consider to question. “He should be made of all the same stuff as a human,” you tell her slowly, recalling the way the bullets had bounced off his skin; “...just structured differently.”

General Armstrong considers your words. Then, she turns to the dark-haired Captain at the base of the tank. “Buccaneer, bring me some tank fuel, now!” she demands. “We’re going to douse him!”

Ed steps forward by your side. “We already told you, General—it won’t work!” he insists. “Set him on fire if you want, but he still won’t die!”

The General turns her attention on the blonde, but her glare is less fierce. “I understand,” she says calmly, and you blink up at her. “I learned from our last attack that we can’t kill it. The best that we can hope for is to stop or delay it, so we’re going to have to hit it with something even stronger than fire!”

She turns, affixing her burning gaze on the lumbering beast, and a smirk breaks out over her face. “Now, you get to see the Briggs way, kids!” she explains, and there’s a dark, hidden glee beneath the ice in her voice.

You stare up at the woman, and a shiver runs down your back.

She really is scary!

Chapter Text

“Can’t focus; my body is still puzzled about what to do. I’m trembling; I can’t stop even if I try to control myself. Although neither sun nor moon are on my side, I’ve got no choice but to try… Those were the words I muttered to myself. The odds aren’t on my side, but running away would be weakness. Even if I can’t see the future, I’ll just have to win it over with courage. I need to keep distance from the targets as I hold myself back. All that’s needed for victory is pride to win! Will we celebrate with the wine of victory? Or will we end up kissing their feet in defeat? There are two outcomes to everything… I want to control destiny! I need to seize this golden opportunity with my hands! I’ll finish it up with my best poker face, and drag them into a world of illusions. I’ll find my way out of this endless pressure game, and leap over the borderline of honor. How many? What will I need to sacrifice to make it happen? What’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of?”

—Sukima Switch, Golden Time Lover

※※※

As it turns out, “the Briggs way” is to chuck your enemies outside in the snow to freeze to death.

At least, that’s what you’ve gathered so far, standing at the edge of the balcony outside, the wind roaring across your cheeks, staring down at the frozen silhouette of the giant who’d attacked the compound.

It’d been tough to get the creature outside—the full force of three tanks had barely been enough to move him once he dug his feet into the ground—but finally, you’d succeeded, dousing the beast in a special chemical mixture that reacted with the cold air outside. Then, Armstrong launched him off the edge of the balcony with a well-placed cannonball to the stomach, sending him plummeting to the ground below.

He’d only been able to resist the cold for a few moments, the chemical mixture working quickly. It increased the effects of the cold on anything it touched, working quickly to turn the huge beast into a frozen statue in the tundra below. He’d thrashed against the chill, his movements becoming slower and slower, smaller and smaller, until finally, he’d fallen perfectly still, toppling over into a stiff heap of meaty muscle.

You lean out over the edge of the bent railing, squinting your eye against the blinding snow. After making sure the beast is good and truly frozen, you turn over your shoulder with a triumphant grin. 

“Nice job, guys!” you cheer, smiling up at the boys, as well as Captain Buccaneer and General Armstrong. “We did it!”

But the woman does not look happy. You blink, and the next thing you know, you’re being slung over Buccaneer’s shoulder, the huge man dragging Ed and Al along behind him down the hallway.

You push yourself up, staring up at the woman in disbelief. “Wait, what?!” you shout, trying to squeeze your way out of his arms. You thrash in the man’s vice grip, beating your fists across his back, fighting to free yourself. “You put me down! What’s going on?! You—!”

 “Buccaneer,” the woman calls out, not bothering to look back over her shoulder as she strides away, her heels clicking on the tile; “Lock them up!”

Lock us up…? you think to yourself, stunned. 

…For what?!

※※※

Cold.

It’s so cold.

You shiver, curling up your toes and rolling over, sleep not yet fully relinquishing its hold on you. Your eye is still shut tight as you begin to ball yourself up to conserve some heat.

You nestle your face further into the blanket, and a familiar smell hits your nostrils.

Hmm, you think to yourself sleepily, a small smile crossing your face. That’s nice. Smells like Ed.

Your mind drifts, and you’re about to fall back asleep when a warm body presses up close, a heavy leg tossed over you.

For a moment, you’re happy for the warmth, letting it seep slowly into your skin.

Then suddenly, a more coherent thought crosses your mind through the haze of sleep.

Wait a minute… Warm…?

Your eye shoots open, and you nearly leap out of your skin.

You’re curled up in a cot with Ed, his body pressed up against you, one leg tangled up in yours. His face is turned toward you, just inches away, his warm breath gently stirring the little hairs around your face.

His jaw is slack, eyes shut, sleeping peacefully at your side. You’re curled up together beneath a thin blanket, his jacket layered on top of you both for an extra layer of insulation.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you stare at your best friend, closer than you’ve been to him in a long time. 

You watch his eyebrow twitch, the usual lines of tension that wear at his face smoothed out in sleep.

You stare, greedily. You can’t help it. Your eye roves over his face of its own accord, drinking in his features.

You take in the curves and edges of him, the little imperfections that marr his skin. You take in the sight of soft white scars etched across his features, each one a lingering reminder of a battle hard-fought and hard-won. 

His face is soft in sleep, features more relaxed than you’re used to seeing. You drink him in—the angle of his jaw, the arched bridge of his nose, the soft corners of his mouth.

You trace your eye over the curve of his upper lip, skimming along the peak of his cupid’s bow, dipping into the slight valley at its center.

You feel your heart squeeze.

Beautiful, you think to yourself, the word soft and round in your mind, its edges fluffed like a feather.

He’s beautiful.

You’ve always known it, of course—ever since you were little. It was just one of those little facts of life. The sky is blue, the sun rises in the east, Ed is beautiful.

He’s been your golden boy from the moment you’d first laid eyes on him, all those years ago. You’d seen the way the sun reflected off his hair, off his eyes in the light of his living room, and you felt your world change.

You and the beautiful golden boy, side by side from that day on—inseparable.

You’d had such bad nightmares when you first joined the Elric household that you would wake up at night screaming, crying hysterically and rousing the whole house. It happened every night for weeks, and the whole family was suffering from the lack of sleep.

Finally, one night you’d been a particular mess, inconsolable beneath Trisha’s soothing grip. Ed had padded into the room, holding his little brother by the hand behind him, and the two of them had crawled into bed beside you.

You’ll never forget the look on his face, his eyes shining in the moonlight coming in through your window as he looked at you, very seriously. “It’s okay, Echo,” he told you, his high-pitched, childish voice uncharacteristically strong and certain; “Me an’ Al know how to keep the nightmares away. You can sleep safe now; we’ll protect you!”

And the three of you had slept together for the first time that night, pressed up together on your small bed, the mattress damp from your tears.

And it worked! You woke up the next morning, having slept soundly for the first time in a long time. 

You don’t know how they did it—it’s always been a mystery to you. But somehow, whenever you spent the night by their side, your dreams were peaceful.

So it’s not the first time you’d woken up like this, but it has been a long time. You’d stopped sharing a bed as the three of you had gotten older, but more often than not you still do choose to room together, despite the looks the hotel staff sometimes give you when you book one room with two beds—many assume the worst of you, watching you bunk up with two boys and making their own judgements, not realizing that the only two people in the room who needed to sleep each got a bed to themself; Al usually spends his nights in a chair by the window, reading by moonlight.

But it seems that last night, you and Ed had curled up together, falling asleep in the same bed, just like good old times. You can’t quite remember exactly what happened, sleep clouding your brain in a hazy fog, but waking up with him like this feels as natural as breathing, as right as rain.

Of course, your body seems to whisper, the words etched into your DNA. Of course, beside him. Of course, together.

You drink him in—he feels like home.

He shifts, a small section of golden hair falling over his face, hanging softly over the bridge of his nose.

Again, you can feel your heart squeeze inside you. A warm, buzzing sensation fills your lungs, blossoming in your chest and sending warm rays down your arms, filling you up to the tips of your fingers.

You reach up without thinking, raising a hand to brush the stray lock back.

But you don’t make it that far.

As you shift your hands out from beneath the blanket, you stare down at your wrists, shackled before you; your brow furrows.

You sit bolt upright, startling the boy by your side. “What the hell?” you slur, sleep still dragging its fingers along your mind and tongue.

Ed stirs, and you see his hands are bound as well. You glare down at the bindings, seething in anger for a moment as you try to put the pieces together. 

You blink blearily, glancing around you. You’re in a tiny jail cell, barely big enough to fit two cots in. The armored Alphonse takes up an entire cot by himself, his large mass filling a significant portion of the limited space in the room, sitting with his legs in the narrow aisle between the two beds.

Which explains why you’d been forced to curl up with his brother—not even the floor being a viable place to rest for the night.

It’s fine, you tell yourself, trying to stave off a blush before it can begin to form. It’s totally normally for friends to sleep together. It’s fine!

You glance down at Al’s armored wrists, and it’s just as you suspected—they’re shackled, just like you and Ed.

He looks down at you unhappily. “Good morning,” he greets, shutting the book he has in his hands.

Slowly, the memory of the previous night fills your head. Scraping icicles off the ceiling, your tour of the compound, the fight with that giant beast and then…

You scowl, trying to free your hands from the shackles at your wrists. “Why did that damn General have to throw us in here, again?” you grunt, straining against your binds uncomfortably. “Didn’t we help her with that monster last night?!”

Al shrugs, his armor clinking in the quiet of the small room. “She said something about keeping an eye on us.” He shudders softly, looking nervous. “She’s probably going to come down here and interrogate us some more later.” 

You open your mouth to say more, but you’re cut off as something warm lands in your lap. Glancing down, you see Ed’s sleeping head curled up, cheek pressed up against your legs. He sighs contentedly, burrowing in closer, fully asleep.

Your face is flushed and hot, looking at the sleeping boy nestled in your lap. Your cheeks only redden further as you glance up at his brother, sitting across from you less than a foot away. His face is incapable of movement, but he seems to raise his eyebrow at you. His voice is sweet as candy, a smile lilting his words as he teases: “So, how’d you sleep?”

You glance down at the boy in your lap again, your cheeks reddening further. Quickly, you glance away, reaching out to swat your brother playfully on the leg. You’re certain you must look like a tomato, your face nearly as red as your hair.

“You shut up!” you hiss, but there’s no malice in your voice.

You scoff, trying to play it cool like you’re not red as a lobster right now. “I probably would’ve slept better if I had my own bed,” you say, staring at the cot he’s occupying pointedly. “But your big old butt had to go and take up the whole second bed!”

He pouts. “Now, Echo,” he scolds playfully, wagging his finger at you. “That’s not very nice! Is that really how you’d speak to your own brother?”

You snort, reaching out with bound hands to tug on the long ribbon coming off his helmet. “You’re darn right it is,” you affirm, giving the silk a few playful yanks, rattling his helmet.

He giggles and bats your hands away softly.

He glances down, and is quiet for a few moments. You wait, watching, recognizing what he looks like when he’s gathering his thoughts, ready to listen when he speaks.

He twists his fingers softly. “Last night was a lot, huh?” he says softly, flicking his eye lights up at you.

Your mouth pulls into a line, remembering the sight of the giant. The fear you’d felt, the heat coming off its body, the deafening sound of tanks firing in the echoing metal interior of the compound…

You bite your lip, tearing off a dry patch of skin with your teeth; a tiny bead of blood pools up, and you swipe it away with your tongue, hiding the red dot from sight.

You glance down at the golden boy with his head in your lap, the light above shining off his hair with a gentle glow. You sigh softly, resting one hand unconsciously on his shoulder as you glance back up at your brother.

“Yeah,” you agree. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes with a soft smile, reminding him: “We did win, though, so there’s always that to be thankful for…!” You glance around at your tiny cell, and bite back a scowl; “...Even if we are stuck in here!”

Al smiles, seeming to perk up, pleased with your optimistic words. “Yeah!” he agrees, balling his fists up in front of him; “That’s the spirit!”

You smile up at your brother, happy that, if nothing else, at least you’re all together. 

Then, you reach down to your lap, shoving the blonde boy to the side, pushing his head off your legs. “Time to wake up now!” you croon, shaking his shoulder as he begins to groan. “Wakey wakey! You’re drooling all over my lap!”

He sits up a little, wiping his chin on his shoulder absently. “Huh?” he slurs, blinking up at you sleepily. “No ‘m not! Y’re droolin’!”

You snort out a laugh, sitting up in the bed and swinging your legs over the edge. You pat his knee soothingly. “Don’t worry, Sunshine,” you assure him, winking at Al conspiratorially; “I won’t tell anyone!”

He begins to protest further, sitting up slowly and rubbing sleep from his eyes. After a moment, he turns, glaring down at the shackles on his wrists. “This sucks,” he grumbles, tugging at the binds. “How long are they going to keep us locked up in here for, anyway?” He glances around, looking for a window, but there’s only artificial light illuminating the room, no sign of the sun to be seen. “What time is it? It feels like we’ve been holed up here all night!”

You pull out your pocket watch, checking the time. You huff. “It’s morning, all right,” you agree, snapping the lid shut with a scowl. You shuffle your feet, glancing around. The tiny cell is bare save for the two cots pressed against either wall, your breath visible in the chilly air. 

You twist your lips to the side, cutting your gaze between the boys. “...What do we do now?” you grumble, pulling your jacket tighter around your body.

Al holds up the book he’d placed to the side. “A guard gave me this last night,” he offers, showing the two of you the cover. “I can read to you guys if you want.”

Ed lets out a yawn, kicking his legs off the edge of the edge of the bed and sitting up.

You sigh, pulling your knees up against your chest, feeling very aware of the presence of the blonde boy’s body beside you, leaned up against the wall of the cell. 

You’re reluctant to touch him. Your skin feels awkward and too-small; you’re conscious of every molecule of space that separates the two of you.

It’s ridiculous, of course; you’ve touched him millions upon millions of times over the years—hell, you’d just spent the night in each others’ arms!

You feel a blush begin to creep up your cheeks again, and you fight to beat it back. It’s not like that! you think to yourself hotly, palms curling into fists on your knees. There was nowhere else to sleep with Al in here with us—that’s all! It—it doesn't mean anything!

You begin to sweat, lost in your head as Al begins to read aloud. We’re best friends, you reassure yourself; I slept with him like this all the time when we were kids—there’s nothing weird about it now!

But there is something weird now, although you can’t place your finger on what. It’s like there’s a static charge between your bodies, raising the hair on your arm and the back of your neck whenever he’s near.

You can’t bring yourself to look up at his face, so you peek at his body from the corner of your eye, watching his hands shift on his lap. Your heart is pounding in your chest, palm sweating as you watch him toy with his fingers, listening to his brother read.

God, why do you feel like this? You’re sweating bullets, cheeks burning, thoughts racing through your mind.

What is this feeling?

It flops around inside you, slapping wetly against your ribcage like a frog jumping around inside your chest. Your heart squeezes, skipping beats, blood singing in your ears.

You’ve never felt anything like it before, and you don’t have a name for the emotion.

It feels almost like—like fear? No, that’s not quite right. No; maybe it’s more like… excitement? Nervousness? Giddiness? Glee?

Your emotions writhe, swirling through your chest and mind, clogging your ears to the sound of your brother’s voice.

It’s a heady sensation, nearly overwhelming you. Your head begins to swim, and you gnaw on your lip, still struggling to label the foreign feeling.

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps come approaching down the hallway, pulling you from your reverie. Your cheeks are still red, face flushed nervously as you take in the man standing in front of your jail cell, a friendly expression on his face.

“Hey!” he greets, two cups of steaming coffee in his grip. “Did you three sleep well?”

Ed leers at the man, waving his hands around the tiny cell. “I wouldn’t exactly say that,” he grumbles, “seeing that we’re packed in here like sardines!”

The man laughs, offering you each a mug of coffee through the bars. The liquid is hot, steam curling in thick billows off the top.

The thought of cradling the warm mug close to your chest to warm your chilly core is so appealing that your fingers twitch, but you hesitate. Ed reaches out to accept, but you stay his hand.

You eye the man dubiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to charge us for this?” you ask him warily, turning out your pockets with a show. “Because we don’t have any change right now.”

Ed whines, fishing in his own pockets. “Aw, damn it, Echo!” he grumbles, huffing when he turns up empty. “I hate it when you’re right!” He clicks his tongue, disappointed. “Damn,” he curses again, grumbling lowly as he eyes the mug enviously. “I really wanted it, too; even if it does taste like dirt!”

The man eyes the two of you for a few moments, an amused smile playing over his features. “I heard you three helped defend the fort from that monster,” he says, and leans forward through the bars, pressing both mugs into the boy's hands. “Just this once, you can have them on me!”

Ed smiles. “Hey, thanks!” he says gratefully, turning and handing you the second mug.

“Yeah, thanks!” you repeat, wrapping your fingers around the warm ceramic.

You let out a small moan as the heat seeps into your skin, and you unbutton the top two buttons of your jacket, pressing the warm mug against your chest, your sweater below protecting your skin. Your toes curl in pleasure as you soak in the heat, feeling it spread out to your arm and legs.

Al leans forward, watching the man stuff one hand into his pocket. “So, did you find anything else out?” he prompts, closing the book in his hand over his thumb to keep the page.

The man lets out a noncommittal hum. “We sent out a party to investigate the hole,” he tells the three of you; “They should be back any time now. Also, Major Miles is at the hospital.”

You blink up at him, remembering the Ishvalan man. “The hospital?” you echo, adjusting your grip as your fingers become too warm. “Is he hurt?”

The man scoffs. “Hardly!” he chuckles, an unlit cigarette bobbing from his lips. “He’s there visiting a soldier that was wounded fighting Scar.”

You and Ed exchange a quick glance. “Scar is up North now?” you question, turning your attention back to the man.

But he’s glancing to the side, smiling as multiple sets of footsteps approach your cell. “Here they come!” he says, sounding like he’s been expecting them.

A small group of soldiers come to stand by his side, each smiling down at you and the boys in the cell. 

“Thanks for your help yesterday!” one tells you, waving in greeting.

“Yeah!” agrees another, pushing up his glasses; “You saved our buddies’ lives!”

Ed smiles, glancing around at the bunch as they bump up against each other amicably. “I’m impressed!” he admits, nodding his head at the group with a grin. “You guys stick together, and you really seem to care!”

“Yeah!” you agree, nodding thoughtfully; “It’s something I’ve only ever seen from the Mustang Unit!”

The soldiers smile at you. “Here at Briggs, we have to look out for each other!” one of them points out, thumping his friend on the back with a chuckle. The other man staggers forward, raising his eyebrows and turning to slug the first man gently on the shoulder.

Another one of them steps forward. “You guys saved our pals,” he tells you proudly, “so that makes you our pal, too!”

You smile charmingly, holding up your bound hands innocently toward the bars. “Since we’re pals,” you croon sweetly, jiggling your wrists in the air. “You wouldn’t want to let us stay in prison!” you cajole, flashing your most winning smile. “Wanna let your pals out of here?”

En masse, they all stand with their hands behind their back, a solemn expression crossing their faces. “No!” they disagree in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it; “The General has ordered otherwise—sorry!”

You wilt, sighing. “Eh, it was worth a shot.” You shrug, waving off the expression on Ed’s face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! You want to get out of here too, don’t you?”

He holds up his hands in an innocent gesture, raising his eyebrows and turning away. “Don’t mind me!” he says, his voice pitched up in surrender. “Not every idea has to be a bright one, after— ow!” He chuckles, leaning back, away from your next oncoming blow. “Hey, no hitting!”