~Chapter 2~

Date: 4/9/2018

Special thanks to: wrongnotes, Jirachi at Sundown, Ranowa Hikura, Gaaralover69, darkraistlyn, alightintheshadows

Guest: Ahhh, you don't have to be nervous... heh... heh...

Following the party, the next four weeks passed in relative peace. Nothing terribly eventful happened; he went off on a mission that lasted only about a week, returned to do paperwork, then did a whoooole lot of research. He thought he spotted Mustang in the library there several times, but he also wasn't paying much attention so he definitely could have been wrong. And even if it had been Mustang, Ed wouldn't have wanted to waste much time with him anyway, so it hardly mattered. Who cared? Mustang was a smart man—certainly not a genius like Edward and Alphonse both were, but still, a smart man. There were probably some days that he wanted to spend surrounded by books just like Ed and Al did. Who wouldn't want to, on the occasion?

That wasn't the only thing weird, though.

As time went, Ed found himself more and more often dropping something off in his office only to find him not working at all. In fact he found him on his little couch, enjoying himself a little nap.

Ed made to wake him on more than one occasion, but to his surprise, he was stopped by a soft-faced First Lieutenant Hawkeye, who would cup his shoulder, steer him around, and urge him to get back to work. And she didn't even have a word for the sleeping colonel.

There were also more and more pill bottles, but that was something Ed had discovered after sneakily digging in his desk looking for a pen. Most of them were names he couldn't pronounce or didn't recognize, although he did spy the occasional sleep aid or pain killer.

There was even a point where Ed had come into Mustang's office only to interrupt some sort of meeting with a stuffy looking lawyer or businessman. Mustang and the man had shared a look, then the man picked up the paper he had been scribbling on and stuffed it into his case. Mustang said, "right. We'll continue this later on," they shook hands, and the man darted around Ed like a bat out of hell. Ed had no idea what had been going on, but for some reason it felt slightly… illegal. Ed tried to pester Mustang about it for the rest of the evening, but Mustang was tight lipped and refused a single word, eventually making Ed promise to drop it. Ed didn't like it, but he agreed.

As per the bet that Ed had drunkenly challenged (the note was right and Ed was never drinking again), Ed made it over to Mustang's house to wash his stupid car. And even this occurrence was very very… weird. Mustang greeted him with a sardonic, snarky little grin, then steered him right out to the car. But instead of telling him how he wanted it washed, he said, "get in."

And then Mustang climbed into the passenger's side.

Ed had stared disbelievingly for an almost embarrassingly long time, looking between his boss in the passenger's side and the empty driver's side. Mustang asked what he was waiting for, and Ed said a little incredulously, "I don't—know how to drive."

"I'm aware," Mustang said with a shrug. He waited again, so Ed, almost nervously, climbed in on the empty side.

"Buckle in," Mustang commanded, buckling himself in as well. "Driving is all about knowing who and what is around you at all—"

"What are you doing?" Ed interrupted, more than a little mindboggled. He had never driven before… and Mustang was acting like he wanted to show him.

"...I had planned to teach you how to drive. You are, after all, fifteen already, approaching sixteen. This is important stuff and I think you should know."

"I'm not supposed to be behind the wheel of a car until I'm sixteen."

"Alone," Mustang corrected. "With a responsible adult, you're fine."

"...You just want another chauffeur, don't you?" Ed accused with a tiny scowl. Part of him was excited to learn how to drive, but all of him wanted to know why Mustang wanted to teach him.

"...Maybe. Well?"

Ed pursed his lips, looking down to the wheel in front of him and glancing all around outside. "I've never driven before."

"I'm actually aware," Mustang said, pitching his brows. "I'm here to teach you. And besides—with the weather and the long holiday weekend, most everyone nearby is on vacation, and we're not far from an abandoned parkway. If you can safely drive me to the parkway, then I'll teach you. If you can't—well, we'll cross that hurdle if we come to it."

Ed eyed him nervously, glancing all around. Mustang was right; the weather was beautiful and was expected to be all week, and with a three day long weekend, and many dangers out on vacation, a trip down the block shouldn't be too bad. "...Okay. Whatever, I guess."

"Perfect. Get comfortable then, so you can see all around you. I can grab a couple phone books if you need them—"

Mustang narrowly avoided a metal hand slamming down onto his thigh.

"Adjust all your mirrors." Ed did. "And here we go."

Miraculously, Ed did get them safely to the parkway and even safely back. It took a little longer than Ed expected and he was pretty sure that he gave Mustang a few more hard jolts than he was expecting (and he thought he saw Mustang pull out a handkerchief and cough a bloody cough into it afterward? But he only saw a little bit of red, and for all he knew that had been there the entire time.), but they made it there, messed around in the parkway, and back without breaking any bones or causing any wrecks.

And immediately after that, Ed went to cleaning his car. And that's the way his weekends went. Mustang let him drive around for a little bit, he cleaned his car, and then Mustang either made him a quick lunch ("as thanks for a job well done") or took him out to supper. And surprisingly… they talked. They chatted. Sure, Ed still thought he was annoying, a bit of an asshole, and a lot of a prick, but… well, he found out that Roy Mustang was more human than he expected.

He saw him cough. A lot. He took a lot of naps at home, too. Ed wanted to accuse him of being lazy, but something felt off about it all, so he didn't.

The Sunday after the last Saturday that Ed had to wash his car, Ed got a late night call. He answered the phone, prepared to chew out whomever had the gall to interrupt his sleep-but-actually-research time, when a somewhat weak and brittle voice came through.

"Fullmetal—it's Mustang."

Ed groaned aloud—whomever had called him didn't matter, it was nearly eleven o'clock at night and this wasn't fair—and demanded, "what do you want now? I'm done washing your car! And I made sure to do a really good job on it yesterday so you wouldn't bitch! I waxed it and everything!"

"I know I know, she's sparkling, you said. But you left something here yesterday and I need you to come pick it up."

"Pick it—hell no! It's almost eleven o'clock at night! I'll see you at the office tomorrow anyway, just bring it in."

"You need to come pick it up."

"Why?!" Ed demanded, forcing back a yawn. "It's late and that's halfway across town! Bring it in tomorrow."

"...Please, Ed. Come pick it up. And bring Alphonse with you."

Al, who either had super sonic hearing, was listening in, or perhaps Mustang was just speaking too loud, looked up from his book at his name.

...And that was all it took. Mustang rarely if ever said please. He made demands and gave orders. That Mustang had said please at all said that Mustang needed them there.

But why? Was Mustang in trouble? Had someone… broken into his home and he was holed up in his closet and he needed backup ASAP?

But, no. That was ridiculous. Mustang was military and a State Alchemist himself, he could take care of himself. And, he would never call Ed first. Hell, Ed would probably be at the bottom of his list.

So maybe he was being held hostage and whomever had him wanted Ed and Al? And if they didn't come, Mustang would die?

Even that notion sounded ridiculous, but Ed could think of no other explanation.

So, Mustang needed him.

...Which pretty much tossed any notion of 'choice' out the window.

"...Brother…?" Al wondered quietly when Ed sighed dramatically. Ed mouthed 'In a minute' at him, then turned back to the phone.

"Sure, okay, whatever. We'll be there in like half an hour, that alright?"

"Perfect. Alphonse too?"

"I said we, didn't I? Gah—yeah, Al too. Whatever. See you soon."

"...See you soon."

Mustang hung up. Ed flopped onto his bed overdramatically with a loud and decidedly unnecessary groan.

"What was that about, brother?"

"I don't know," Ed said earnestly, because not a single part of him understood what was going on, "put your books away, Al—we're going to Mustang's."

"The colonel's?" Al demanded, glancing to the clock. "It's—eleven o'clock at night! You see him tomorrow!"

"I know, I know… but he said 'please'."

Al stared at him, dumbfounded, but received no further answer from Ed. He sighed and shook his head, but packed up his books and set them on the shelf. "He wanted both of us? I could just go. You should sleep."

"He wanted both of us."

Al made an affronted little noise and glanced back to the clock to make sure he was reading it right. When E slipped into his boots and coat, though, he followed Ed out and into the night without another word.

Ed didn't mention the trepidation knotting at his belly the closer they got to Mustang's home.

Something definitely wasn't right.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Mustang at all, who answered the door in Mustang's own home. In the doorway stood First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Her hair was disheveled, her face was pale, her eyes red and face sad. Still, she smiled a weak and wobbly little smile at them and welcomed them warmly.

"Oooh, Hawkeye," said Ed, unable to fight off the joke. "And what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you two, and of Lieutenant Havoc," Hawkeye said back snarkily. Her response gobsmacked Ed with both the words and attitude. She wasn't normally so sardonic. And, Havoc was here too? It was a regular party.

"Mustang said Ed left something here, yesterday?" Alphonse asked politely.

"Ahh—right. He mentioned something like that, but he didn't tell me what it was. Come in."

"Thank you," said Al, and Ed quickly mumbled the same under his breath. They followed her in without another word.

The house was well lit for being so late at night. There was a fire in the fireplace and all the lamps around the living room were lit. Mustang was seated in his armchair, running over some notes that Ed couldn't see. He looked up when Hawkeye introduced them, then quickly closed the notes and set them aside.

So. Mustang looked safe and unafraid. Hawkeye and Havoc were here. There was most likely no danger in this place at all. Why, exactly, did Mustang absolutely need both Edward and Alphonse there right now?

"What," Ed snapped, "do you need right the fuck now?"

"Language, Edward," Hawkeye admonished softly.

"Why exactly couldn't you bring it to the office tomorrow?"

"Good evening to you, too," Mustang greeted with a weak little smile. "Thank you for coming. Take a seat, would you?"

"Whyyyyy?" Ed whined. He slumped onto the couch with a loud complaint. "I could be sleeping!"

"You weren't," Mustang said knowingly. "Sit tight. I'll be right back with your leftover."

"Food?! Ugh." Ed rolled his neck and leaned his head against the back of the couch. Alphonse took a seat beside him, looking around the living room. He'd never been in Mustang's house before.

"Uh, colonel?"

"Yes, Al?"

"Where's Havoc?"

Mustang paused, halfway to rising from his chair. "...Havoc?"

"Yeah. Lieutenant Hawkeye said that Havoc was here."

"Oh. Right." Mustang shook his head and heaved himself up from his chair with a wet groan. "Yeah, Havoc's just getting things prepared." Mustang walked around the coffee table and around the back of the couch.

"Things? What things?"
"Don't worry about it," Mustang said. As he passed Ed by, he ruffled his hair gently, laughing when Ed just batted his hand away and spat, "don't touch my hair."

"I'll be right back. Sit tight."

Ed harrumphed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever."

To the side, Hawkeye made a soft noise and took a step away from Roy's chair. "There is something I need to take care of as well. I'll be in the study if you need me at all, boys. Roy shouldn't be long."

"Sure," Ed scoffed. "But come on, Hawkeye. I see it in your eyes. Be real. Why did Mustang drag us here? I don't remember leaving anything behind yesterday. What does this asshole want?"

Hawkeye paused and looked down to Ed. A sad little smile crossed over her face, and Ed quickly ducked his head to avoid a hand he feared may be coming for his bangs. "...See you two later, boys," Hawkeye hummed. She left the room as well, her steps moving a little faster as she neared the hallway until a door down the hall slammed shut.

Ed and Al both flinched, watching her go. Wasn't that… odd. She was normally so stoic, but if Ed had to guess from her actions and very little expression, he would have guessed that she was… grieving. But grieving what?

"...Brother."

"I know."

"Something is off, brother. Can't you feel it?"

"I know," Ed said again, his stomach knotting nervously. Something was more than just off. Something was genuinely wrong. Why had they invited them in and then just left them? Why would Mustang have invited him over to pick up his 'left over', and not have it with him? Or not at least know where it was? Why was it taking him so damn long?!

Ed took a huge breath before he could continue, shaking his head fiercely. No, it was okay. This was Mustang. He could trust Mustang. And if he couldn't trust Mustang, he could sure as hell trust Hawkeye. Nothing was going on. They were just picking up some leftovers. At… at eleven o'clock at night. Nothing weird. Nothing suspicious about that. Not at. All.

His heart started pounding hard, anxiety thrumming at his breast. His paranoia was acting up spectacularly. He felt nervous sweat prickle at his brow and the back of his neck, his hands shook with nerves, everything, everything, was wrong, was off, was—

"Brother, something is wrong," Al interrupted his racing nerves, looking all around. "I can't pick out exactly what it is, but something is wrong. There's some kind of gross… gross energy. Can you feel it?"

"Yeah," Ed agreed softly. "Yeah, I feel it. Something is wrong."

"Alphonse!" Hawkeye's voice echoed from the study. "Can you help me with something real quick?"

Al hesitated, looking over at Ed nervously like he knew this was a ruse, but a deep need to help someone who needed it battled for dominance with his caution.

Then, after a second of indecision, Ed said, "whatever, it's Hawkeye. Go see what she needs."

"Okay," Al chirped. He hopped off the chair and stepped toward the hall Riza had gone down, opening up a door and slipping inside quietly.

Leaving Ed all alone.

Despite the warmth of the fire and the light of the lamps, it was remarkably creepy in this house. It was silent, Mustang was taking too long, and Al was right. There was something in the energy here that was dark, foreboding, and mysterious. Ed didn't like it.

There was a clack down the hall and what sounded like a door shutting. Ed looked around all over his shoulder, twisting himself all over the place to see. Finally, after what must have been nearly forever, Mustang appeared in the living room. His hands were tucked behind his back, concealing whatever mysterious thing had been left behind. Otherwise he looked normal. How… weird.

"What is it?" ed demanded. "What stupid thing did I leave, huh? I wanna go home and sleep."

"You wouldn't be, anyway," Mustang said, a weird emotion in his voice. He came up behind Ed quietly.

Ed tried to twist his head around to keep an eye on his superior. Something was off about what he was doing and saying and just—wrong. "C'mon, what did I leave?"

Mustang lifted a hand and brushed it on his hair as if he was ruffling it again, even though Ed had specifically said not to touch it again. "Don't touch my—"

The hand on his head moved to his forehead and forced his head back against his abdomen. Ed gasped hard, not expecting the sudden assault, and in that moment Mustang brought his other hand around and covered his mouth and nose with a sweet smelling rag. He didn't know what was going on, but his every instinct screamed at him to not breathe not breathe and FIGHT! He tried swinging his elbows up to jam them in his attacking superior officer's stomach, but the couch blocked his path and made twisting around awkward. He couldn't bite because he didn't want to risk breathing in whatever was on the rag, and the hand on his forehead kept him from moving his head around and escaping. He lashed out with his legs to cause a commotion or grab someone's attention, but all he did was kick over the coffee table, which apparently no one cared about.

"Shhh, shhhh," Mustang said above him, somehow attempting to soothe him even though he was in the middle of drugging him. "Shh, I know you're afraid, but it'll be alright."

Alright? ALRIGHT?! How was it going to be alright?! Mustang was trying to kidnap him! Ed wanted to yell, to scream and shriek and just demand answers, but he couldn't know what was going to happen after Mustang drugged him and he was honestly too scared to just let it happen.

"Ed," said Mustang, and there was still that bizarre emotion that Ed had rarely heard from him in his voice. It sounded almost affectionate, but how, how dare he be affectionate now of all times?! How dare he?!

Oh god what's he going to do to me?

"Ed, you're going to have to breathe at some point, you might as well just let it happen."

What's he going to do SOMEONE HELP ME!

There was a crash in the other room, and all Ed could think was that Al knew something was up and was coming to help him. Relief coursed through him for a split second, until Al's echoing voice demanded, "wait, stop, what are you—doing to me Hawkeye STOP!"

ALPHONSE!

Against all judgment and every instinct, all of Ed's survival instincts went towards Al's safety. He fought harder and made, made to yell and scream and—

He opened his mouth and breathed in the sickly sweet scent and sealed his doom.

The drug took a minute of Ed's fighting to start taking effect, but he could feel his movement become sluggish and slow. He reached a hand up and dug his nails into Mustang's arm, attempting to tear him off and maybe reverse the effects, but it was too late.

"Good, good boy," Mustang hummed above him, the hand on his forehead starting to stroke his bangs as if attempting to soothe him. His other hand jammed the rag further between Ed's lips, forcing his mouth open and ensuring that he continued to breathe in the damning drug. "Good…"

"Mno," Ed gasped around the rag, trying to pull Mustang's hand away, more afraid for his life than he had genuinely felt in a long time. "Blease—mno…"

"Hush, Ed," Mustang soothed as the drug really started to set in. His hand dropped from Mustang's arm and blackness crept in around his sight. Mustang leaned his chin onto Ed's head and, though Ed was hardly able to feel it as his entire body went numb, Mustang pressed his lips against Ed's temple, kissing him briefly. "It's going to be alright, I promise."

Ed wanted to demand how the hell he was supposed to trust that, but his mouth was occupied with a rag and his mind with confusion. His legs and arms stopped moving completely as the darkness made a steady attempt at coating everything he saw. He finally gave up and closed his eyes, letting the drug's effects take over.

The very last thing that crossed his mind was 'my superior officer is going to kill me,' and the last thing that he heard was Havoc's voice saying, "I wish you'd told them what was going on. They've got to be so scared", and Mustang responding, "did you think they would let me do this if they knew what was happening? They wouldn't understand. No, this was the only way. Can you carry him? We don't have much time."

When consciousness returned, all Ed could feel was the cold ground beneath him. That, and the sick and twisted feeling, even stronger than before, that something was wrong. He fought the wave of nausea that was settling in, fought off an aching and pounding headache, and opened his eyes.

Dark.

It was all dark around him except a few small spots of light that looked like candles. He was laying on cement. His entire body was sore, which was generally a telltale sign that he had been knocked out. But what had happened? Where was he?

Right—right… Mustang had kidnapped him. He had drugged him and was planning to do something to him. Had he done it? What did he plan to do with him? Torture him? That could explain the soreness. But—no, he wasn't in pain-pain, just sore-pain. He ached, but nothing terribly hurt. Not in a way to explain what he'd done to him.

Ed sat up further and rubbed his left hand over his face. His eyes hurt. His best explanation right now was that he was locked away in Mustang's basement while Havoc and Hawkeye and him laughed it up at their foolishness. They had spent four years gaining his trust—what, all in an elaborate attempt to kidnap him? It sounded ridiculous, but it was the only thing anymore that made sense.

He didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted to get out, find Alphonse, and go back to—

ALPHONSE!

Alphonse had been attacked as well! He heard him tell Hawkeye to stop whatever she was doing! Was Al down here with him?! If he was, escaping would be easy! Al could just break down the door and they would be gone! Mustang couldn't stop them!

Ed twisted all around, feeling with relief that he wasn't restrained. He smacked both palms to the floor, feeling a chalky substance beneath them, and opened his mouth to call his brother's name.

Except…

Both his palms were stinging.

He looked down to his hands, seeing pale pink on both backs. But that couldn't be possible…

He leaned back to take his weight from his hands and lifted them up to his face. The pale light of the room let him see that both hands were identical, although one was significantly weaker than the other.

There was no automail.

He quickly lifted his right hand and gave his inner arm a pinch. A dream! Maybe this was all a dream! He'd wake up and go to the office and everything would be normal! Mustang never even called him over to his house in the first place!

"Ow!"

Okay. No. No dream. That had hurt but he was still here, trapped in this basement with two flesh arms and no sense.

He threw himself to his backsides and rolled up his left pantleg. If his right arm was here in the flesh, what about his left leg…?

But, no. He knocked his knuckles on his leg and it echoed softly. Still automail. So did that mean—

You pulled your brother's soul back with one arm.

Ed whipped his head around. If his arm was back, did that mean—was Al gone?! "Alphonse!"

His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and through the minimal light, he saw someone laying there beside him. They had long hair and looked frail, laying on their back. Their chest was moving up and down just barely; they hardly even looked alive.

What the hell did Mustang do?

He crawled over to this person who seemed barely alive. When he touched their shoulder, their skin was chilled. The body flinched hard and moaned but otherwise didn't awaken. Ed brushed their hair from their face, looking at it to see who else his apparently insane commanding officer had kidnapped. He didn't recognize them but only a little bit, the shape of the nose and the jaw, and the hair color was unmistakably golden; maybe Mustang secretly had something against blonds…?

Then, on the side of the body's neck, right at the junction between neck and jaw, there was a pocked little scar that Ed remembered from his time spent with Alphonse on Yock Island.

But that would mean… with his arm back… and that scar… Al…

"ALPHONSE?!"

The body moaned again and started moving their (his?) head. Then he blinked open bleary eyes and looked all around before finally settling on Ed. He squinted at Ed, trying to see through the darkness, then very quietly he asked, "b-brother…?"

That was Alphonse's voice! Unmistakably! Oh, it—it made no sense but somehow, somehow he was here, he was here in the flesh! They had done it! They were almost completely whole! All that was left was Ed's metal leg, but he didn't care, he didn't care about his leg because ALPHONSE WAS THERE!

"Al!"

Ed leaned down and scooped the shaking naked body to his chest, hugging him close as elation erased every other emotion from his mind. Who cared what was going on! Al was back in the flesh and it made no sense but everything was going to be okay now!

"I-it's you, you're you! Look at you!" Ed gasped, squeezing him tight. He gasped a little sob and buried his face in Al's long, definitely greasy and brittle hair. He couldn't believe this was happening. This had to be—some sort of dream, of trick, of lie, some sort of something!

But he'd already ruled out the dream, and he wasnt entirely sure how it could be a trick ot a lie (although that could be the headache talking). So that meant it had to be real. It had to be! Al was alive and in the flesh, and they were going home tomorrow!

"Brother?" Al said breathily, lifting a fragile hand to touch Ed's face and gasping at the touch. He took an extra moment to feel Ed's face, then mumbled, "brother, you're squeezing too hard…"

"Sorry," Ed gasped, loosening his hold but only barely. "Sorry, Al. How do you feel?"

"...Sore. But… but good. Really, really good. Brother, is this…?"

"Yeah," Ed said, "this is real. You're really, really here!"

Al whined a wordless breath and looked around him, squinting at the world through new—or perhaps very old—eyes. "Where… are we?"

"Mustang's basement I think. I don't know what he wants with us, but—but it doesn't matter. We'll get out and head home tomorrow."

"Yeah…"

A light suddenly flickered on above them and Ed flinched hard. He didn't know what to expect, so he held Al closer, glaring up to the offender.

A door creaked open at the top of the stairs Ed was seeing, and two pairs of feet were quickly brought into view. Havoc and Hawkeye looked down at them from the stairs, their eyes wide as if not expecting to see them.

"You're awake!"

Both adults rushed down the stairs, nearing them quickly. Hawkeye reached out to touch Al's face, but Ed held him closer and glared. They had better have a goddamn good explanation. "What's going on! What does Mustang want with us! I never left something here at all! He just wanted to—to—to kidnap us! What's he gonna do? Kill us? Sell us?"

Havoc moved to defend Mustang's name, but Hawkeye held out her hand. She crouched before the boys, both of whom were eyeing her fearfully, and said, "Roy Mustang is dead."

"Wh—I—wha…?" Well then—what—were Havoc and Hawkeye here to rescue them? But no, that would make no sense. Hawkeye had attacked Alphonse.

"He died about ten minutes ago," Hawkeye continued. "He wanted us to make sure you two got to a hospital. At the very least, Alphonse is going to need it. Ed—if you could please let Havoc take Al?"

Ed's arms loosened for a second, but mistrust shone bright in his eyes, and before Havoc could even get close, Ed was clinging again. "No. No! You two were in on it! He… M-Mustang knocked me out! What's going on?! And what do you mean, he's dead?"

"...We were," Havoc agreed, his hands in his pockets. "He wasn't going to be able to do everything on his own, after all."

"THAT DOESNT ANSWER MY QUESTION! I'm knocked out, shoved into Mustang's fucking basement, and I wake up with Alphonse back and my arm returned, I DESERVE AN EXPLANATION!"

"Calm down, chief, or you'll wear yourself out," Havoc said. "Take a look around, it might make a little more sense."

"Take a look—" Still, Ed did, looking all around the room.

The basement looked like a dusty old cellar. Not much went on here, that much was clear. There was an old water heater, and a laundry station, but not much else. But here on the floor…

Yep, they were definitely sitting in chalk. In an array.

It was… an array that Ed recognized.

It was insanely complex and huge, spanning an entire corner of the basement. Ancient Xerxian was written all around the circle. It looked like a circle for human transmutation! But—was Mustang going to make them…? They had woken up inside it, though… had someone somehow performed it on them…? That could explain Al's return to the flesh and the return of Ed's arm… but who…?

There was a set of clothes discarded at the side of the circle, much too big for either of them there… but who…?

Roy Mustang is dead.

Had… had… but that didn't make sense! Mustang was hardly friendly with them! Why would he…? Had he intended to bring them back, somehow? Why?! This was… this was ridiculous at best, but absolutely insane at the worst and… and…!

"Where's Mustang? I wanna talk—to that asshole!"

"He's dead, Ed," Havoc hummed.

"Bullshit he is!" Why would Mustang kidnap them just in time to get his stupid ass killed? No, none of this was making sense, none of it!

"Ed—"

"No! He can't be! He pulled off all this—this bullshit, and…"

Havoc leaned forward and carefully pried Al out of Ed's slacking grip. He pulled his coat off and wrapped it around Al's naked, shaking body. "We need to get you to the hospital. Your arm needs to be looked at, nevermind that Al's gonna have a lot of recovering to do."

Hawkeye came around him now that Al was in Havoc's arms. She put her arm around him and heaved him to his feet. Ed got a good look all around again, his eyes falling back to the deflated clothing just outside of the circle, clothing that looked about the colonel's size. None of this was making any sense. He was scared and nervous and so so confused, but…

What had Mustang done? Had he really, somehow, performed human transmutation? Successfully? But… but how?

"Hawkeye?" Ed asked when Hawkeye started walking him out of the circle, following Havoc who was already halfway up the stairs with Al. "What…? What happened? I woke up in a human transmutation circle with Al at my back and… I don't understand. What happened to Mustang?"

Hawkeye sighed hard and looked up to the doorway at the top of the stairs. She blinked hard a few times, and when Ed glanced over to her, he noticed that her eyes glowed red and were still moist with tears. "I told you, Ed," she said once she managed to collect herself. "Roy Mustang died ten minutes ago. He died, so that you and Alphonse could have your original bodies back. Don't ask anymore questions until later, okay? We're all still… reeling."

He died, so that you and Alphonse could have your original bodies back.

Ed's mouth dropped open as he was lead up the stairs, looking back down to the transmutation circle and the last place Mustang was seen alive. Mustang had given up his life, so that Ed and Al could continue with theirs. But… everything that had happened earlier…?

Did you think they would let me do this if they knew what was happening? They wouldn't understand.

This all had been an elaborate ruse. But not a ruse to kidnap them, like he had at first foolishly thought. It was a ruse… to get their bodies back. To save them from their own mistake.

And… he didn't understand.

"But… why…?"

"No more questions, Ed," Hawkeye said. A crack in her voice broke her words, but after a moment, she continued, "please. Not now."

:D

Update on Monday!