[Captain's Log, Stardate 1312.2]

"Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life, and new civilizations. To boldly go–"

"What the fuck are you doing, Mustang?"

A loud clattering and the sound of a chair spinning.

"Elric! I've told you to knock a hundred–"

"Are you talking to yourself? Holy shit, are you recording yourself? You're monologuing!" A delighted cackle. "Narrating your adventures!"

"Look, you insubordinate brat–"

"Uh huh. Man, I knew you liked the sound of your own voice, but this is a whole new–hah! Too slow!" Another delighted laugh. "Gotta be faster than that if you wanna catch me, you old geezer–!"

Static.

–

"Captain?"

Roy jumped at the soft voice behind him, whirling in surprise. The observation deck had been empty; he had made sure of that, had wanted to be alone with nothing but the stars. And the crew, well, none of them approached him when he went looking to be alone anymore, not since…

When he saw the person standing there, however, his expression softened.

"Comman–" He choked on the word, it sticking in his throat as his traitorous mouth refused to transfer the meaning from one person to another. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried again, with more familiarity this time.

"Riza," he murmured, inclining his head. He didn't smile–didn't remember how–but he apparently looked not-haggard enough for her to feel comfortable approaching. Still, if what he saw in the mirror these days was any indication, it was still a courageous action on her part.

"Roy." There was a note of relief in her voice as she picked up on the permission to address him as a friend, not a subordinate. Roy could have told her to stop being formal, that she was his peer in everything but name, the position of First Officer only temporary until her own ship was repaired, but Riza Hawkeye stood by regulations unless she deemed it necessary.

He supposed it did give things an order that provided stability when they were falling apart. When he was falling apart. But it also served as a reminder that she had taken this temporary demotion for him, to keep him from going off the deep end.

Because he was a damned mess.

And with that came the niggling, nagging thoughts usually held at bay by the medication until they became too much, overwhelmed him with a wave of uncertainty and incompetence, that he didn't deserve his crew, his friends, anyone. And hadn't he proven that, after everything that had–

"Roy?"

He jerked his head up, only realizing just now that she had been saying something. "What was that?"

From the press of his lips together, she knew him too well, knew exactly that he had gotten lost inside his own head for a moment.

"You need to talk about this."

And there it was, Riza's knack of saying the thing he most needed but least wanted to hear.

"It's in the report," he snapped, more harshly than she deserves, he knew, but the thought of bringing this up now–bringing it up ever–sent his throat closing up with horror.

To Riza's credit, she didn't deliver the tongue-lashing he so rightly deserved. Instead, she crossed her arms and gave him her most disappointed look–which was worse.

"I've read the official reports. An unknown armada of ships that attacks us and suddenly disappears? I was there, Roy. I almost lost my ship. My crew. My wife. And I have the right to know what really happened, not the censored version it's obvious you submitted to Starfleet Command."

"If it's so obvious, why haven't they contacted me about it?" Roy retorted, glaring.

"Because I know you. I can see that something is tearing you up."

Roy couldn't look at her any longer, but when he turned his head, she followed, staying in his line of sight. He averted his eyes, the thought of the truth–of anyone else knowing, misunderstanding–

"What does this have to do with Elric?"

Roy froze. Everything froze. His heart. His lungs. His thoughts. Time itself seemed to stop at the mention of his name.

"Roy, anyone could see that this is about him."

He struggled to breathe, struggled to become coherent enough to deny it, struggled to say anything–

"He's dead."

He didn't recognize his voice, not at first, not as it rang out with the truth he had denied himself for weeks. Even now, he tried to pretend it wasn't true, that he'd turn and Ed would walk through the doors to nag him about completing his paperwork and getting back to the bridge.

But Riza was the only one there. She was his first officer now, and even when she returned to her captaincy, Roy would never again have Ed by his side on the bridge, laugh at his wry comments or argue in faux-irritation even though he knew he shouldn't let Ed bait him–

"I know, Roy. And I'm sorry."

"He's dead," he repeated, the words spilling out of him involuntarily now, his teeth gritted and face white as horror rose in him, "and it's my fault, for not seeing the signs or doing something about it before–"

He broke off, a gloved hand covering his mouth in horror, eyes wide, shoulders shaking. He had said it, finally admitted the truth he had been running from, and there was no going back.

"Roy." Riza's voice was steady, almost comforting. "Please, tell me what happened. As your friend."

Roy hated it. He wanted her to scream, to hit him, to call him a disgrace to the chair and tell him that he should be dead instead of Ed. He wanted to do all of that to himself.

But Riza would never. She was too good of a friend. She likely even thought that he was being too hard on himself. He would have to prove her wrong.

Roy took a deep breath, sinking onto the couch. Riza sat next to him.

"There was–a couple of weeks ago, we recovered a recording capsule from a ship. It was decades old, the last one to explore this sector. Most of it was corrupted, but what we could find was a warning. Telling all ships to stay out of the sector, that he should have 'handed it over,' but that it was too late now."

Riza simply raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Roy sighed. "That's how I felt. I advised everyone to be cautious, but… ordered us ahead."

"You did your job. Starfleet wanted the area charted."

Roy just shook his head. "I shouldn't have. It was stupid to. And when there was the accident–"

"The one that disabled the ship."

"That's the one. But it… did something else, too." He closed his eyes, sending a fleeting request for forgiveness from his dead first officer.

For just a moment, he could hear Ed's voice as clearly as if he were standing behind Roy. Just tell the damn lady, Mustang, and stop shuffling around with your thumbs up your ass.

"Ed–First Officer Elric was knocked unconscious. Doctor Marcoh took him to sickbay, where he apparently made a full recovery." Roy hesitated, but at the look in Riza's eye, sighed.

"He… wasn't the same, when he did. At first I thought he was still ill, but something had changed. It wasn't Edward." Roy ran his fingers back through his hair. "He was distant. Serious. Nonconfrontational." It was the last that had clued Roy in to the fact that something was very, very wrong. Their entire friendship, one of the deepest Roy had ever known, was built on confrontation.

"Not two days later, I caught him back in the sickbay. But he had broken into the stores of medicine and was…" Roy covered his face. "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me."

"He had transformed them. I'm not even sure what substances they were. I was going to ask–ask Doctor Elric–Alphonse, to run tests on them, but–" He shook his head. "They're gone now. Regardless, he tried to hide them. Got angry when I confronted him. Defiant. And not how he usually was. You've met him. He's prickly, but he's a good person. He's my friend." Roy exhaled. "This was… savage. Like he was possessed. He fought me. In four years, he's never once fought me."

He paused again, warring between truth and Ed's honor, though he knew what the choice would inevitably be.

"I had him… escorted to confinement by security. I thought he was ill. But…" Roy swallowed. "He walked out. He walked out of the brig, Riza. Scar was there. Someone else I might doubt, but he clapped his hands together, placed it against the glass, and it–I don't even know. I'll show you the hole, later. And then he came after me."

Riza's mouth tightened. "What do you mean?"

"With a phaser. It wasn't one of ours. I… still have it. Rockbell says it's more advanced than anything we've ever seen. Maybe he… created it, I don't know. But he told me I was going to turn around the ship and head to the other end of the galaxy, immediately."

Roy had to break off for a moment, covering his face again. The image of Ed's normally vibrant face, cold and merciless, still haunted the backs of his eyelids.

Though not as much as what came next.

"That's when they attacked."

"And you called us."

"And we called you, yes. Edward fled the moment they did. We had no warning, no… anything. Just the ship rocking, and suddenly…" He shook his head. "Not even faces on the viewscreen. It was a… a garbled transmission, like it had been translated too many times over, and all we could understand is that if we didn't hand over the criminal, they would kill us."

That shook Riza's composure. "They contacted you? They sent out a communication? Criminal? But I thought they–"

"Attacked without warning? Without a reason? They might as well have. Any communications back to them went ignored. We pleaded for clarification, ordered them to cease… nothing. You know the rest of it."

"Yes. They crippled my ship." Roy almost smiled with how peeved Riza sounded. "Two more months in repairs. Can you believe that?"

Roy let out the tiniest of humorless chuckles. "They eased up on us, once our warp core alignment went. They thought we were dead in the water. And we were. Until…"

"Until Commander Elric saved you," Riza finished quietly.

Roy jerked his head up, face and voice both pleading. "He did! He was–he was himself, at the end. Ms. Rockbell told me, that he was… determined, to set things right." He closed his eyes. "And I spoke with him, before…"

"And you didn't want his service record to end with dishonor."

Roy shook his head mutely, a crushing weight of despair settling over his shoulders.

"I couldn't do that to Alphonse. To Ms. Rockbell. To… to Ed."

Riza kept her voice low and steady, calming and compassionate. "And the attack stopped, when he… when the Commander passed?"

"Yes," Roy finished tiredly. "Whatever was in his head, it died with him."

Riza reached out, placing a hand on Roy's shoulder, and within moments, he had turned his face towards her, leaning forward and pressing his face into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

–

Roy's dreams gave him no peace. It was the same, over and over.

When Roy had heard about the misalignment of the warp core, something had seized up in his chest. They were dead in the water. A sitting duck for the attack from these unknown hostiles.

But when his chief engineer called him down to the core, panic infusing her voice, Roy knew it was about to get much, much worse.

Still, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Edward Elric slumped on the ground, leaning against a glass door behind which he was trapped with the warp core and god knew how much irrevocably lethal radiation.

"I tried to stop him," Rockbell sobbed, hands pressed to her mouth. "But he knocked me out–he said that he had to be the one to fix it–that he wasn't going to get me killed, too–"

Roy staggered over, the danger to his ship and crew alleviated, for now, with her shields and warp capabilities restored. But at what cost?

He sank to his knees on the other side of the glass, placing his hands against it. The heat against the skin on his normally-gloved fingers was an odd sensation, but he barely registered it. He couldn't focus on anything but the limp form pressing against the glass in front of him.

"Always… figured I'd outlive you, you old geezer," Ed grumbled hoarsely, his eyes, golden and bloodshot, lifting to meet Roy's. "Don't you fuckin' dare hold it against me."

"No." Roy swallowed, trying to balance the urgency in his voice with confidence. "We'll get you out of there. We'll figure out some way to heal you–we have some of the most advanced–"

"Spare me, Roy." Ed huffed out something that might have been supposed to be laughter. "This is the least I can fucking do, after…" He blinked slowly, taking what seemed like ages to open his eyes again. "I'm sorry. For–for earlier–I don't know what happened–it was in my head–"

"I know you would never." Roy pressed his hands against harder against the glass, willing the decontamination process to end, praying that it would open before– "It wasn't you, was it?"

Ed shook his head, though it resembled more of a lolling, his braid flopping pathetically back and forth. "It was… I don't fucking know what that thing did to me. But I fought it. I fought it, Roy, and I won." A desperate edge crept into Ed's voice. "I used–used whatever this is, that it gave me, to fix it. She's safe. The Enterprise–your Enterprise is safe, Roy."

"And I thank you for that." Roy hated the way his voice shook; Ed needed to know that if he hung on, Roy would get him help. "Now–now keep talking to me, all right? It's almost finished. We'll get you out of here."

Ed scoffed, and god, Roy wanted to–he wanted to kiss it away, and it was a hell of a time to have that realization, when the person was dying in front of you, separated from your touch by an unforgiving glass wall.

"Tell Winry'n Al… tell 'em… not to blame 'emselves, got it?" Ed was slurring now, his eyes going hazy and unfocused. "'Specially Win…"

"You'll tell her yourself," he snapped, voice harsher than was fair, but he needed it to be, so he didn't–

Ed inhaled, straightening, and lifted his head suddenly, a clarity in his eyes that bewildered Roy. It hadn't happened like this. It hadn't–

"I love you."

The whispered words, no less sincere for their tone, rang out between them. Roy could only stare at Ed, at the lips from which those words had just come, wondering if he had hallucinated–no, he was dreaming, Ed hadn't–

And then the muscles in Ed's face slackened, his eyes growing unfocused. His body slumped back against the glass and did not move again.

He knew what would come next, the decontamination completing, the door opening, sending Edward Elric's body falling into his lap, Winry Rockbell's sob of despair and Alphonse Elric's anguished scream of, "Brother, no!"

But Roy woke with Ed's last three words ringing through his head.

–

He sat up with a gasp, a cold sweat across his back and chest, shaking slightly, before burying his face in his hands.

How pathetic was he, to fabricate an encounter based on an obsession that had reared its head during Ed's last moments? Ed had never said, that, never even indicated that his interest was anything more than platonic. His last words had been about Al and Winry. So how fucked up was he, that–

Oh, shove it, Mustang.

Roy jerked his head up, glancing around wildly. He was still half-dreaming. He had to be. But Ed's voice had rang out impossibly clearly, as if he were standing right next to him.

Or Roy was simply continuing down the path of insanity.

Or you're actually fucking hearing me. Fuck, Mustang, you're a hard man to get ahold of. Do you always ignore your dreams this much?

"I'm going mad," Roy whispered into the darkness.

I told you to fucking shove it, Roy. Look, I'm–I'm stuck. Get me out of here, and I'll–I wanna say it for real, okay?

In that moment, it suddenly didn't seem to matter to Roy that he was obviously hallucinating Edward Elric in his bedroom. He sat up straight. "How? You're stuck–where? In my head? How did this happen?"

Yeah, seems that way. I'm not… exactly sure, but we can figure it out later.

His voice was getting fainter. "Ed? You're–you're breaking up–"

Fuck. That was perfectly clear. Yeah, seems it usually works when you're asleep, or almost. Look, talk to–talk to Vato. Talk to Al. They'll explain about–

"Ed? Ed!"

But he could hear nothing besides the low, steady hum of the Enterprise. With a groan, he flopped back onto the pillows, staring up at the stars through the window above his bed.

–

"You look like you haven't been getting any rest, Captain."

Alphonse Elric's voice is gently teasing, far less abrasive than his older brother's is–was–but still with the same sense of humor.

"No," Roy muttered. "I think I'm…"

He hesitated, glancing between Al and Vato. The tall Vulcan cut a contrasting figure to the younger Elric, though both were wearing science blues. And even with his short hair, Al looked… eerily like Ed.

Roy had to turn away.

"I recognize that this will likely sound crazy, but I… it's important. And I trust both of you to exercise discretion regarding this inquiry.

"Of course, Captain."

"Yeah, no problem."

Roy took a deep breath. "Have either of you ever heard of…" Damn everything, he was actually going to say it. "A person, or whatever consists of that person specifically–the soul, if you will–existing…" He winced. "In someone else's body, after their own dies?"

He turned his gaze back to the two men–or, well, the man and the Vulcan, expecting them to be staring at him like he'd gone mad. Which he probably had.

Instead, Al simply looked thoughtful. Vato was unreadable, as always.

"You mean the Katra."

It took Roy a moment to process the words that had come from Al's mouth. That there was actually something to be said on the matter.

"The… Katra?"

Vato's eyebrows furrowed in what almost seemed like concern–for a Vulcan, anyway. "It is considered to be a myth, by most Vulcans. But it does sound like what you have described."

"But–but it's a possibility, that it exists, right?" Roy hates himself for the hope building in his chest. He's a fool, and he knows it, but he can't bring himself to stop. "And is there a way–if this "katra" does exist, to bring the person back?"

"There are… supposed ways," Vato begins slowly, uncertainly–

"Is this about my brother?"

The words lay like a flaming arrow shot between Roy and Al, an accusation smoldering in the silence. Roy weighed his words, thought through and discarded several answers, before settling on the simplest.

"Yes."

Al inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide. Despite his earlier words, Roy had no doubt he didn't believe it.

He couldn't blame him.

"But that–that's not possible."

"I have to agree, captain." Vato's voice was careful, less of Al's desperate hope and more of a sane man trying to calm a delusional one. "If the katra were real, which, again, most consider it not to be, Commander Elric was not a Vulcan–"

"Commander Elric developed powers, quite possibly of a psychic nature, shortly before his death," Roy broke in breathlessly, his heart beating faster. "I was with him, when he died, and if… if he could perform such a transfer–"

"I did do scans on him, after the accident." Al looked just as hopeful as Roy felt, and just as terrified at that fact. "His brain, it showed changes in the areas that are usually associated with… that sort of thing…"

His eyes met Roy's, and Roy understood. This shot was longer than long–a shot in the deepest, darkest depths of space.

But they had to try.

"I've been hearing him."

Both Al and Vato stared at Roy, even the Vulcan looking inappropriately stunned.

"When I sleep. Right before, or right after I wake up. Sometimes in my dreams." Roy took a deep breath. "He told me he was–trapped, inside of me. Told me to ask you both. Given that you've studied Vulcan biology extensively." He nodded at Al. "And Vato, well."

Vato sighed then, expression fading into one of very, very faint resignation.

"Vato," Roy said quietly. "Where should we start?"

"I know nothing of the… ritual. If you do wish to go forward with this…" Roy could practically hear him thinking madness. "…Endeavor, you will need to ask a Vulcan priest, to see if there is any similarity between the two situations."

Roy's heart beat even faster, his gaze flicking between Vato and Al. Al's eyes, as golden as his brother's, gleamed with a suppressed hope that Roy understood only too well.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode towards the exit to sickbay, pulling out his communicator.

"Maes. Set a course towards Vulcan immediately."

The response took a moment, but– "Uh, Roy? You sure about that? We're supposed to–"

"That is an order, Mister Hughes," Roy barked, feeling more alive than he had in weeks. "Do it immediately. Mustang out."