How could I do this to you...how could you do this to him..?

How could I do this to...how could you do this to...

How could I do this...how could you do this...

How could I...how could you...

How?

He was called in for questioning. The prison guards stepped aside so the large man could face the killer; so they could all pass judgement on the now handcuffed teen.

So they could find out the truth.

The large man, Alex Louis Armstrong, was shocked to say the least when he'd heard the news.

The first question was always the same for him:

"Why?"

The first response was always the same from Edward:

"Why what?"

"Why did you kill Colonel Roy mustang, the Flame Alchemist?"

The second question, the second response...it was all routine by now.

"..."

Yes, there never was a second response to Armstrong's second question. Edward never did like to answer to adults. As usual, Armstrong would interrogate him with a glare that would never match Roy's no matter how hard he tried, and then step out of the room, only to hear the teen's insane mumbling to himself. And, every visit resulted in the addition of two more guards to his cell. The thinking was that if he wouldn't confess during Armstrong's interrogation, then he was probably not to be trusted.

"How could he kill him...how could I...how could he kill him and I...killed him."

According to the guards, Edward would continue murmuring his incoherent nonsense for the entirety of the day once nobody was around to listen.

Oh Edward...How could you? Where did the Hero of the People go?

Riza sat in her dorm room with a headache as usual. It never had ceased since the day he was killed. His goal and her dreams were shattered. So there she sat in her dorm, trying to put the pieces back together.

"How could this happen; what would drive a kid like that to kill a strong soldier like you?"

Riza was affected the most by the situation: so much so that she quit her job in the military and became a clerk at a small drug store. It was a shitty job, she'd admitted to herself. But she couldn't bear to continue her efforts without supporting a certain someone. Not just anyone, but Roy Mustang.

Sighing, she heard a knock on her door, knowing very well that she would be forced out of her dorm now, off to her new life.

"I'm coming," she said, taking one last look at her old life: The way the bed was so askew, the wall with one busted hole in it, and the clutter that was now naturally becoming a part of the floor. Her dorm used to be perfect, not a scratch on the wall or hardwood floors. Not a speck of dust to be seen. The damage she saw now was from the frustration that bubbled up inside her after hearing of Roy's demise. But, more importantly, of the killer.

It had twisted her.

She'd thrown everything to waste- all of her hard work, all of her prized possessions and her orderly personality- all of it had been thrown to the floor along with everything else within her chaotic path.

She picked up her suitcase with the few things inside that she still wanted...the few things that didn't remind her of her dead commanding officer:

A new toothbrush, for her old one reminded her of how, in the morning, she'd wake extra early to eat breakfast so she'd have more time to get to the office. No matter how early she'd get up, she still found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror, brushing her teeth as hurriedly as she could; she'd never arrive even a second late.

A pair of wrinkled, casual outfits. The more messy they were, the better, for neat was the enemy; in the office, it'd always been neat when she entered.

She recalled the first time she'd set foot in the office, and even then it had been neat. It was that very first day that she became a neat freak, wanting to make everything in her sight perfect.

(It was what her commanding officer had wanted.)

A hairbrush, her keys, some kitchen supplies, and a full wallet. Nothing of any meaning; nothing to remind her of just how much hurt she felt.

So off she went, never to look back.

Havoc, Breda and Fury were the only three in the office. They were the only three left of the team: the Colonel was dead, Edward was in prison, Riza resigned, Falman and Armstrong had been reassigned to different squads already. It was solitary and desolate around the office.

There were no bets, no arguments, and no missions, frankly.

They were utterly, and admittedly bored.

So like the rest of the team, they lingered. Waiting.

The questioning was beginning, and three guards dragged Edward to the stand.

The Jury rose to see the small teen beyond the massive desk. The court room was filled with military men, as the civilians weren't allowed to enter the court room. The military understood that they would want to hear from their Hero of the People who was now being accused of murder, but they suspected there'd be an uproar directed at the court for accusing the precious alchemist of something so obscene.

"All rise," spoke the Judge with all the authority that she could muster. The whole room stood, but Edward sat unaffected, still.

"All. Rise." She commanded again, to no avail. The words seemed to go right through the lifeless form, but it was nevertheless disrespectful.

The courtroom erupted in whispers: angry whispers.

"How insolent!"

"Does he not realize the position he's in?!"

"How could he!"

The Judge stood and faced Edward, silencing the whole room. "Excuse me, respected Alchemist, but this is my courtroom, and in here you will listen to what I say and ask. Do you understand me, Mister Elric?"

Ed hunched in his seat, turning his head toward her, staring at her with glazed eyes. The Judge tried once more to get him to stand, but reluctantly sighed and sat back in her bench.

After a long, accusing case of arguing between Edward's lawyer and the court, it was obvious that Edward had no obligation to speak... and when he did, it was something dementedly unclear: like a four-year-old child trying to make out a word he couldn't pronounce. The whole Jury had lost hope to get some real evidence, beside the fact that Fullmetal was spotted at the crime scene with blood on his hands. The representative of that statement hadn't even show up to court for the case. So the investigation was dragging on to the point where the lawyer opposing Edward decided to try a new tactic, given that Edward's mind seemed so tangled and defeated and easy to take advantage of.

"Edward Elric," began the opposing lawyer, "answer this one question: Who killed Colonel Roy Mustang?"

Edward's head dropped, and much to the shock of Armstrong, the routine was changed.

"I-I did, sir, I did...I killed R-roy Mustang...I killed the Colonel."