Title: The Heart of Everything: The Song of the Forge Volume 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Summary: When whispers of a Rebellion sweeps across Amestris and a failed assassination reveals a terrifying plot against the State, Brigadier-General Edward Elric and Colonel Alphonse Elric are dispatched with orders to stop the rebels at all costs. The only problem is that the rebels have traveled twelve years into the past.

Prologue

A young man clad in the blue military uniform leaned against the railing of the roof, staring out pensively over the city, a lit cigarette held lazily in his hand as a gentle wind blew past, sending golden bangs fluttering around his face. At the age of twenty-six, Edward Elric was the youngest of the Generals that served in the military, just as ten years ago, he had been the youngest State Alchemist certified by the state of Amestris. Actually, he still held the record for youngest state alchemist in Amestris. He sighed as he took another drag from his cigarette.

Had it really been fourteen years? It felt like only yesterday that he had been a child arrogant in his surety that he could perform a forbidden art without repercussions, only to lose a leg and an arm for his stupidity, condemning his brother to an existence as a soul bound to a suit of armor, forever in fear of his existence being snuffed out due to damage to the blood seal.

It was different now, their quest to find the Philosopher's Stone had been a success after five long years of searching, and Alphonse had been restored to his body. Of course, due to sheer dumb luck, Edward had renewed his contract for another three years less than a month before he and Alphonse had reached their goals, and as a result, he couldn't leave the military right away. But then a year later, war had broken out, and Edward had sent Alphonse home to recover, because even after a year, Alphonse still wasn't used to having his body back, and as for Edward, he was sent to Drachma with the other Alchemists. Two years later, he'd returned to Central as a Lieutenant Colonel, and Mustang had been promoted to Brigadier General. That was the same year that Alphonse had applied to take the State Alchemy Exams and passed, and after two months, both been sent on a yearlong tour of Amestris with orders to stop the people from rebelling.

Now, three years later, the war was over, the incompetent Hakuro was still Fuhrer, Edward was a Brigadier General, Alphonse was a Colonel while Mustang was now a General, and while the military was busy keeping Central stable, the rest of the country was falling into pieces. Edward dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his heel. The blonde smiled sadly as he shook away the thoughts as he turned away from the railing, his now waist length braid swinging out behind him and froze as he heard the sound of footsteps in the stairway.

Instincts still active from the warzone drove him to press himself against the wall, slipping silently into the shadows, golden eyes narrowing as the door to the rooftop swung open, oft unused hinges squealing in protest. The first flicker of Amestrian colors leeched the tension from Edward's shoulders, but then inconsistencies brought the tensions flooding back.

Everything about the supposed soldier was meant to satisfy a cursory look in the corridors, but under the light of the midmorning sun? Eyes used to picking out Alchemists hidden in the enemy ranks immediately picked out the languid grace with which the presumed soldier walked. Every single member of the military that Edward had ever met never walked; they marched. Always, as if there was a silent drumbeat constantly sounding in their heads and ever since the Drachman War, even Edward found that he had to concentrate to walk normally instead of marching like the seasoned war veteran he was. Then there was the way the man carried himself, nothing like the straight backed posture of soldiers confident in their places and duties, he swayed and slouched like a cat on the prowl. The rank denoted on the shoulder boards was that of a Lieutenant, but not only were they on the wrong shoulders, but one was upside down, and the firearm in the holster was not a military issue sidearm. While it was not unusual for military personnel to carry nonstandard issue weapons, it was an unspoken rule that if it wasn't standard issue, it should not be carried openly.

Edward regulated his breathing, keeping each breath slow, deep, and even as he watched the soldier lean against the railing, eyes fixed on the parade ground below. Whatever he was watching for, Edward had a bad feeling that things were going to change, and rapidly.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when he saw the soldier straighten and reach for his gun. Edward placed his hand on his own sidearm, drawing it as he slipped out of the shadows, coming up behind and slightly to the left of the soldier. The gravel underfoot did not give so much as a crunch as he moved. Drachma had taught him more than he ever needed to know about moving silently through loose debris. Sharp golden eyes were peripherally aware of the soldier hefting his gun and taking aim, shifting as if he were tracking a moving target even as Edward scanned the parade ground, his eyes catching on a figure dressed in Amestris blue striding toward the Fire Compound where the Mess Hall was located. They were too far away for him to recognize the rank, but the Amestrian colors were all the confirmation Edward needed. He closed the distance between the assassin and himself in three swift steps, automail hand shoving at the hand holding the gun.

The firearm discharged, and the shot went wide, and even as the gunman's head turned toward Edward in surprise, Edward was bringing up his own firearm, clicking off the safety as he hefted it. He didn't even think about the target of the gunman's bullet, knowing that the target would have likely already taken cover. And despite being a military base, gunfire was not a common sound, therefore someone was bound to have raised the alarm, and someone else would be on their way to investigate. All Edward needed to worry about was to subdue the soldier and determine the target.

The soldier's free hand moved, and instinctively, Edward pulled the trigger. The force of the bullet pushed the man back against the railing, and Edward moved with the momentum, slamming the hand still holding the gun against the metal, forcing the soldier to release the weapon, and Edward jerked the soldier up, spinning him around and pinning his free arm between the railing and his body while twisting the captive arm up against his back. Edward pressed the muzzle of his firearm against the soldier's back between the shoulder blades, and he felt the man tense.

"Who was your target?" Edward hissed.

He felt more than saw the soldier's pinned arm shift, and without thinking, Edward shifted the gun down and to the right and pulled the trigger, heedless of the blood that splattered onto his previously immaculate uniform. The man jerked and a rough yell of pain cut through the air.

"Answer me," Edward barked, "Who was the target!"

"What do you care?" the man snarled, "All of Amestris knows you hate your commander."

"Mustang?" the name fell from Edward's lips in surprise.

Edward's grip must have slackened with his surprise, because suddenly, the soldier surged back against him, and as he stumbled back, the gun was kicked out of his hand. The blonde Brigadier-General didn't bother going after the gun, rather, as the soldier pulled a second handgun from under his coat, he darted toward the stairwell. He heard the sound of the gun being fired, and he clapped as he dived for cover. Red hot pain blossomed in his side and seared through him as he lost his grip on the alchemical energy. He writhed on the ground in pain, his gloves ripping as his hands scrabbled in the gravel that covered the roof and was only faintly aware that he was screaming, and then the door to the roof was flung open, and someone was calling his name. Edward was distantly aware of the roar of gunfire and a figure in Amestrian blue dropping to their knees beside him, his name on their lips. And all he could think of was that he needed to tell them who the gunman had been targeting…

"Target…" he rasped painfully, "Mustang…"

And then there was only darkness.

~*~

Maes Hughes hurried down the halls of the hospital, green eyes dark. The moment word had gotten to him that Edward had stopped an assassination against Roy but had been nearly killed for it; he'd sent out feelers and started digging. What he'd found was not much of a surprise.

It seemed that Hakuro had stepped on a lot of toes, and the people were uneasy. Edward had barely been able to stop a civil war by going town to town and assuring the people that he had allies in the military who felt the way he did and they were working on the problem. The word of the Fullmetal Alchemist, the People's Alchemist had soothed ruffled feathers, but people were still not pleased, but it had done the job of ensuring that Amestris would not have to fight themselves and Drachma at the same time.

At the moment, however, it had somehow gotten out that Edward was hurt, and it was because he had been trying to stop the assassination of someone high up in the military, and popular opinion was that it was because of some corrupt military official who wanted power.

True, mostly, Maes admitted to himself as he navigated the hospital toward Edward's room, but this time, even Edward's assurances probably wouldn't stop a civil war from breaking out. The common populous was furious that their champion among the State Alchemists had been injured in the name of the State, and Maes made a mental note to kill whomever had let that little tidbit slip out once he found them.

"Maes!"

Maes nodded at Roy and drew him aside, speaking rapidly as quietly as he could. He wasn't there simply because the people were restless, but because a part of the city had gone up in flames and the military police had discovered scattered notes and formulas. The theory behind an array of some sort, and in the two weeks since the failed assassination, different Alchemists had begun analyzing the notes and theories behind the scattered parts of the array were no closer to a breakthrough though there was a lot of speculation about it being a transportation array of some sort. With speculation running rampant, the higher-ups wanted to foist the entire thing onto Edward, who had a reputation for taking apart and breaking down unknown arrays and deciphering what they were for in anywhere from a few hours to a few days when it would have taken other Alchemists months or years.

The only problem was that it had been almost three weeks, and Edward still had not woken yet. It was troubling. Not even he had been unconscious for that long after the bullet Envy had nearly killed him with.

~*~

TBC…