So while I should be finishing up my PotC: AWE fic, instead... I'm posting this. Oh well, I couldn't help myself, so sue me. At least I'm writing, right? Anyway, as the summary says, this is set at the end of episode 19 of the Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood anime, so if you haven't gotten that far yet, stop reading unless you want to ruin it for yourself (or unless you read the manga, in which case you are MUCH farther along than I am in the story). And yes, there is an original character in this fic... oh well. This isn't a romance thing, so don't worry, no makeout sessions between the OC and Barry. (Sadly...)

A bit of background on the title: Aside from being Barry's number, Sixty-six is also (according to Wikipedia) a two-person trick-taking card game, the strategy of which involves using your own cards and the other player's bets to predict what is in the other player's hand. So I'm not lazy - I chose a title with meaning. :3

Disclaimer: I do not own Barry (sadly), or Roy, or Ed or Al (also sadly), or any of the rest of the characters/places/plot of Fullmetal Alchemist. I DO own my very own state alchemist pocketwatch, and my OC... that's about it though. *sigh*

Chapter 1: Spontaneous Salvation

"In the shape I'm in, I wonder if someone will fix me," he said to himself, the splintered pieces of his iron body trembling ever so slightly as he attempted, vainly, to move.

There was a scuffling noise; though his face was shattered, Barry could still see through one eye that his body had come back to find him. "Oh, you again," he said by way of greeting, almost cheerfully – then his body picked up the shard with the blood seal. For the first time in a long time, Barry felt something almost like fear, and he panicked. "What are you doing?" he cried as his body tapped a tentative nail against the seal. The answer was clear: his body intended to break the seal, and free itself of the burden of a separate soul. For once, the soul was at the mercy of the body. Barry, the real Barry, the soul, found himself at a disadvantage for the first time. "Stop that!"

Suddenly, somewhere beyond Barry's vision, someone clapped their hands. There was a blue flash, and suddenly the floor beneath Barry and his body bucked, sending the body flying against the far wall, where it collapsed, lying limp against the tile floor. It was unclear whether it was dead or merely knocked out, but at least, for the moment, it was rendered harmless.

Barry – the real Barry – longed to turn his head, to look around at his unexpected savior. "Why… WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? He was MY victim, MINE! I was going to chop him! You cheated me of my—"

"I just saved your life – if that's what you'd like to call it. You're welcome." Footsteps approached, and a woman's hands reached down and began to pick up the scattered pieces of his iron shell. Finally, she stepped into view.

Barry stared – as much as he could with only one working eye, anyway. "You… I've seen you…" He'd glimpsed the silver chain dangling from her pocket, leading no doubt to a silver pocket watch; she was a state alchemist, and though he didn't know her name, he was fairly sure she wasn't supposed to be on his side. Then again, who was? "Why are you helping me? Wouldn't it have been easier to let me die? Not that I'm complaining, but I'm a bit confused, you see – I could have sworn you were on the good guys team."

She raised her eyebrows but did not bother to look at him as she continued to collect parts. "I am. Mostly. That doesn't mean that I was just gonna let your body kill you." She paused, considering her words, and shook her head, a small smile briefly crossing her lips.

Barry blinked. "Whyever not? Wouldn't it have been easier that way?"

"I guess it would have, if I wanted you dead."

"You mean you don't? My, my, my, you state alchemists really are a strange group of people. Between you, the shrimp with anger issues and the pyromaniac, you guys really have a freakshow thing going for you. What's in it for you, sweetheart? Gonna take me back to stay with Falman again? You know I really don't think he'd mind all that much if you just…"

"You talk too much," the woman said, her tone not quite as sharp as she'd meant it to be. "Just be thankful I'm bringing all of your parts, instead of just the seal." Taking off her coat and using it as a makeshift sack, she began stuffing pieces of him inside, taking care to collect every part – but moving, he noted, a tad nervously.

"You're not doing this for the state, are you?" Barry asked slyly, all fear forgotten in his curiosity. "Who are you working for?"

She hesitated. "I work for Roy Mustang," she answered eventually, "but I'm not doing this for him, or for the state."

"Who for, then? The lab people, perhaps?"

She snorted. "No, not for them. I'm not doing this for anyone. I'm just…" She glanced at him. "You know, you'd better be able to keep quiet when we get outside, or I'll never be able to sneak us out of here."

"Oooh, a secret mission, I'm intrigued! So you're doing this for yourself, are you? And just what are you hoping to gain from this little excursion? Hoping to find out more about my blood seal, perhaps? But then, couldn't you just ask Alphonse?"

"I could care less about your blood seal," she replied, but the care with which she slipped it into her jacket seemed to say otherwise. "I'm more interested in the soul it preserves."

"My soul?" Now he truly was fascinated; more than once he'd been kept alive for his talents, or the information he had, or even out of fear – but never because someone was interested in him. "What are you, a shrink or something?"

"Not hardly. State alchemist, remember?" Straightening up, she came to stand over him, looking down at him with an odd expression. He looked her over with his good eye, appreciating for the first time how tall she was – and pretty. She had short, reddish hair parted on the right side, obscuring one of her blue eyes, and a few freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. If he had been in any condition to do so, it would have been his pleasure to chop her up right then and there.

"My name's Kate Steele," she said. "The Reconstructing Alchemist." She reached down and picked up what was left of his head so that, for a moment, they were seeing eye-to-eye. "I might be the only one who could put you back together, so if I were you, I'd listen to me." Before he could answer, she shoved what proved to be the final piece into the makeshift bag. "Now, not another word until I say so, or we'll both be sorry."

And Barry, for once at a loss for words, decided, for the moment, to comply.

It was surprisingly easy to keep to the shadows and out of the way just long enough to make it past the scientists and MPs and eventually get back home to her apartment a few blocks from Central headquarters. Luckily, the others never knew she had been there visiting her brother, Connor, one of the scientists at Lab 3. As of yet, they didn't even know she had returned – she'd come back over a week ago from Rizembool, but sensing that something interesting was happening, had laid low, following both friends and suspects without letting anyone know she was back. She'd spent a month away in the automail-crazy city, learning what she could from the mechanics there. She was no amazing mechanic herself, but she felt it was good for her to learn all she could about her craft, even the parts that seemed to have nothing to do with alchemy. More often than not, even things that seemed irrelevant ended up somehow helping her after all, making her more creative, at the very least.

Her brother was the only person who had recognized her at the Lab, and knew she was back. But she had been on her way out when Barry had broken in – if luck was on her side, Connor believed she had already gotten home when that fiasco began, rather than having stopped outside for a moment to watch the people passing by – and running by, when Roy and company had arrived. She was certain no one knew of her presence, or that she'd scaled the wall and had been poised outside the window, that entire time, her gun trained on Lust – until Roy had done her work for her. She'd waited then, listening rather than interrupting, and keeping an eye out all the while for Barry's body, which she knew from watching them must have been lurking around somewhere. From Al and from her own reading, she had a vague idea of what had happened to Barry's body and soul - and, having heard his voice before in the past when he had been arrested, she remembered exactly who Barry the Chopper was. Even back then, he had fascinated her.

Luckily for his soul, she'd kept her post outside the window even when the others had left, knowing somehow he'd show up again – and she was ready for it when he finally did.

Now, she quickly let herself into her apartment, amazed that Barry had followed her orders so well and kept silent throughout the whole journey. In spite of his devil-may-care attitude, it seemed he really did have some desire, at least, to be fixed.

When the door was locked again behind her, she headed straight for what once might have been a guest bedroom, but was transformed under her presence into a workshop where she kept all her unfinished projects – things she found, and practiced mending in her free time. There were three tables, plus an empty space at the back for larger items; with a sweeping motion, she swept aside numerous half-repaired articles on one of the tables, and dumped the scraps of Barry's body onto the space she'd made.

"Hey, watch it!" he complained loudly, breaking his silence at last as he clattered onto the table.

"What, are you afraid I'll break something?" She lifted up a loose screw pointedly and shot a look at his good eye, which stared up at her from amongst the shards. "I couldn't do much more damage to you if I tried."

"Oh, but you could," he remarked, unable to help himself, and glanced toward his blood seal.

"After all the trouble I went through to get you here in one… well, alive? Come on." And yet, as if drawn to it, she reached out a hand, and touched the seal, lightly, with a single fingertip, taking care not to smudge it.

Barry shuddered a little, unable to decide whether it was out of pain or simply the shock of being touched somewhere he could actually feel it. "Hey, hey, be CAREFUL with that!"

Her eyebrows arched up, as if she had noticed the shudder and found it interesting. "You can feel this, can't you?" She pressed her finger against the seal again, only a little harder than before, and he made a shocked noise halfway between a yelp and a shriek. She moved her hand away, and gave him a thoughtful look. "Huh. And I thought people like you weren't supposed to be able to feel anything at all."

For a moment he was silent, watching her as she turned and headed for the door. Then, "I'm not! I can't!" he protested, and she glanced over her shoulder at him in mild surprise. "I'm invincible! In this body, I am immortal!"

"Invincible, eh?" Again, she looked over his broken parts pointedly. "A lot of good that's done you." Stepping out, she began to close the door. "Good night."

"Wait – where are you going? Aren't you going to fix me?!"

"Not tonight. I've got to get some sleep, so I can walk into headquarters in the morning without having to explain what kept me up all night."

"You're leaving me here – like THIS? A pile of JUNK?"

She shrugged. "Well, yes. For now, anyway. And don't even think about trying to keep me up until I fix you, because then I will break that seal of yours."

"You wouldn't!" he yelped, but the door had already closed behind her with a resolute thud, and he knew that, whether he liked it or not, he was in for a long night, alone on the table with the rest of the scrap metal. He sighed, thinking longingly of his butcher-knife, and wondering if she'd been so kind as to pick that up for him, too.