Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullemtal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or any related characters.

IMPORTANT: This story is the third and final installment of my Sold series. If you have not read Sold and/or Bartered, please read them first so this makes sense.

Sold can be found here: s/10150248/1/Sold

Bartered here: s/10251836/1/Bartered

Please review, I love your feedback~

It was dark.

Of course, it was night, yes, but it was also dark also in Edward's mind. The phrase "shut down" seemed appropriate. He didn't know if his eyes were closed or if they were open and unseeing, but he could feel the tears burning them. He could hear, as if from a distance, Alphonse trying to soothe him, but more pressing was the gasping, rhythmic flow of air to his lungs, the too-close sound of his heart beating as though the world hadn't just ended.

Roy was gone. The phrase seemed to echo inside him.

Gone, gone, gone…

Edward felt like he was falling into himself, like nothing else was real. He could still picture Roy's face as he was sucked into the homunculus, the sick, ripping sensation he himself had felt as the man disappeared.

Ed found himself thinking of the whorehouse. This trapped, hopeless feeling was one that had been introduced to him in that hellhole. He never thought he would feel it again, not since Roy rescued him…

It was as though a light snapped on, a harsh light, making everything contrast spectacularly. Roy had rescued him from the whorehouse and had been there for him every day since. Now it was Edward's turn to do the same for Roy.

He opened his eyes, becoming aware of his brother shaking him. Al's face was screwed up, and as Ed tuned into his voice, he noticed the not-so-subtle tones of panic.

When he tried to brush Alphonse away, Edward noticed the shrieking pain in his arm. He looked down, saw the blood, remembered the sword. But that didn't matter now.

"Al…Alphonse, let me up."

Alphonse let go of him, but Ed couldn't seem to find his legs. He bent down again and heaved Edward to his feet.

A little wobbly, but nothing he couldn't manage. Ed began to walk, speeding up as he gained confidence in his movements. His little fainting spell, or whatever it was, was over, he had to get moving!

"Brother, wait up!" Al called behind him. Edward heard the sound of footsteps echoing his own as his brother caught up. "Where are you going?"

"The firing range." His answer pulled Ed up short, because honestly, he hadn't known himself where he was headed. But as soon as he said the words he knew he was right. Edward couldn't use his alchemy any more, and his fighting was rusty. He needed a weapon, and a gun seemed like a good choice.

Alphonse was beside him now. "Brother, you need a hospital."

Edward snorted, wiping away a few traces of wetness on his cheeks. This determination was invigorating, perhaps not logical, but it was sustaining him and giving him hope. He could still get to Roy.

"What I need is to get Roy back. This," he slapped his arm, wincing and then trying to brush it off, "is nothing but a distraction."

Alphonse continued to argue, but Edward drowned him out. Each footstep was a step closer to revenge, he didn't want nurses crowding around him, he wanted to do something. Whatever he could.

The firing range was empty. That wasn't a surprise—after all, it was the middle of the night. In any case, Ed preferred it that way. Fewer people worrying at him, fewer distractions, and more concentration he could direct at learning how to shoot a gun.

Of course, he knew the basics. Load it up, point, and squeeze the trigger. But Edward hadn't ever had to use a gun; he didn't know how his aim would be, how fast he would be able to fire shots off, or…anything practical, really.

He headed over to the weapons and…they were locked up.

Ed spun around to face Alphonse. "Please," he requested simply.

He saw Al calculating, glancing from Edward to the guns and back. Slowly, he clapped, placing his hands on the lock.

Edward sighed in relief, picking one at random. "Thank you."

Alphonse tried to dissuade him once more. "Brother, I really think you should reconsider, you can do this after you get your arm treated—"

Ed wasn't listening. He fished around for some bullets, loaded them, and stepped before a well-abused target. He cocked his gun, while Al was in the middle of his little rant, and squeezed…

Pain ripped through his injured arm in the aftershock. Edward couldn't help but cry out, drop to his knees to cradle the wound. Alphonse knelt down as well, his voice approaching desperation once more.

Ed huffed, shook himself, and stood up, forcing Al to do the same. He picked up the gun from the ground, having dropped it, and looked at the target.

Well, he didn't see any new holes, but that didn't mean he hadn't hit it. It was possible that he had, but that his addition was invisible amongst the already present rips and tears and divots.

Edward bit his lip, looking around, but every target lined up was already full of holes.

"Alphonse."

"What?" his brother responded, exasperated.

"I need you to make me a target."

His request was met with shocked silence. Then: "Brother, you can't do that again! You've got a hole in your arm! You can't shoot right now!"

Ed exploded. "Al, I need this!" he shouted. His brother was quiet, and the night closed in around them as Edward continued, softer. "I have to get him back, Al. I have to do this. Please, I need your help."

Alphonse gave him a long look, before clapping and placing his hands on the ground. Just in front of the old target, a wall of rock rose up.

Edward glanced at his brother gratefully before taking aim again. He was prepared, and so while the recoil of his second try hurt, it wasn't a surprise. Ed still cried out, but he didn't collapse, which was progress.

There was just one problem. The distinct absence of any mark on the rock.

How the hell had he missed that?

Edward adjusted his stance, fired once more. Nothing. Again. The fourth try yielded pitiful results as well; though he had hit the rock that time, the hole was in the upper right corner.

Ed went kept shooting until the gun clicked, empty. The rock wall had a few holes in it, but none anywhere near the center, where Edward had been aiming.

Frustrated tears rose to his eyes, and Ed let out a tiny scream as he chucked the gun on the ground. Al watched this tiny tantrum with caution in his eyes.

"This is fucking ridiculous!" Edward half-shouted, sounding hysterical. "I can pick up alchemy like it's the easiest thing in the world, become the youngest State Alchemist ever, but I can't shoot a fucking gun!?"

He leaned against the wall, fighting for breath. "I can be an prodigy at alchemy, but when that's gone, what do I have left!?"

For the umpteenth time that night, Edward let himself fall to the ground. Ever loyal, his brother kneeled down with him. "Brother," Alphonse whispered.

"I just want to get him back!" Ed sobbed. "He rescued me, but now I can't do anything for him!"

Hesitantly, Al wrapped his arms around Edward, who clung to the only comfort he had now. This was the first hug the brothers had shared since Alphonse had lost his body, and it wasn't the happy event it should have been.

Enveloped by his younger brother, Ed let himself go to the desolation consuming him.

"Goddammit," he whispered.