DA: Well, I started this late... hehehehe. Let's hope I made the deadline. Right now I think I will. But it all depends on how quickly I can write. So let's just get right to it shall we?

Disclaimer: Don't own...And I think Ed's thankful for that.

Warning, more gore and swearing. Basically, my fic in a nutshell. Gore and swearing. Maybe I should rename...Onto the chapter!

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 3

Mustang stumbled back into camp later than normal, exhaustion lines etched onto his face. Blood was spattered all over his royal blue uniform, and he stank of burnt flesh, some of it caked along the creases of his skin and clothing. His lips were sticky with evaporated lipids, vaporized by the heat of his flames. Hawkeye walked with him, her own face drawn with fatigue. Their's had been a rough battle, but at a certain point the enemy had seemed to relax as if an objective had been cleared. That put the Colonel into turmoil trying to figure out the reason. What objective?

The guard saluted as he passed and Mustang paused, his dark eyes thoughtful. "How did Fullmetal look when he returned today?" he inquired. Surely the boy was back by now. The younger soldier faltered, his eyes going wide at the unexpected question.

"Sir, um... Major Elric...hasn't reported in yet today..." the man responded, Mustang's blood turning to ice in his veins. "In fact, none of the soldiers assigned to that section have returned..." The dark-haired man sighed, pushing his crippling fear to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to panic.

"Right. Remind me. Which section was that again?" To this, the man had an immediate answer.

"Section A17."

"With all due respect, sir," Hawkeye interjected as Roy opened his mouth to speak, picking up on her superior's thought process. "It's too dangerous to launch a search party this late in the evening. It would be far more effective to do so in the morning." Flicking his gaze to his lieutenant, he noticed the harsh glare smoldering in her chestnut eyes, a contrast from her impassive expression.

"Right... You will alert me if any of my men arrive." The guard snapped into a salute as Mustang turned and walked away, a sharp scowl slashing across his suddenly pale face. As he bid Riza goodnight, the dread he'd been cultivating since late the previous night thrashed and turned his stomach, nausea creeping up his throat.

FMAFMA

Roy tossed and turned violently on his cot, blankets tangling around his limbs. Sweat beaded against his brow, dripping down his face and soaking the strands of black hair that happened to brush against the damp skin. Tears gathered in his eyelashes, expressions of alternating pain and panic crossing across his features.

The battlefield was drenched in thick blood, the air stained with a red haze. Mustang, a smudged white cloak draped over his pristine Amestrian uniform, stood in a hole in the fighting. Clean gloves ensnared his hands, the red stitching betraying the power they held.

Dark eyes scanned the immediate area, fingers poised in a presnap. Scorch marks littered the ground at his feet, most smoldering with fading flames. He nearly smiled at the rest of the land, uneven with alchemically created structures. Fullmetal was doing a good job, creating mass destruction as ordered. If he listened carefully, the boy's trademark battle cries could be heard, grunting with effort and swearing his head off. Perhaps he should find the younger alchemist and offer some assistance, for surely, the repeated use of such powerful alchemy was wearing him down.

And so, he sprinted off, following the sound of Ed's enraged cries. In the corner of his eyes, a gun flashed and without thought, he snapped, an explosion rocking the ground. Soldiers stumbled at the resulting shockwave, bullets ripping through their momentarily vulnerable bodies. And that's when he heard the scream, filled with utmost agony and fear. Roy's eyes widened, heart jumping into his throat. That was Ed, no doubt about it. He ran, ignoring his body's aching protests and the enemy footmen that attempted to put a stop to his forward march.

Something clacked nearby, sounding suspiciously like a gun cocking. He turned and snapped, the air heating up before he even realized what he was seeing.

An eye bore into his own, the other completely shrouded in thick scarlet liquid as it gushed in a continuous river down the young, terrified face. Perhaps the hidden eye wasn't even there anymore. "Please Colonel... Help me..." The whispered words reached his ears as the alchemy-produced bomb hit the area. Mustang couldn't feel his heart throbbing in his chest as dust and smoke rose, billowing high into the sky. His lungs refused to work until it began to clear and revealed a wall, albeit crumbling, that had taken the brunt of his attack.

"Ed!" he yelled, running around to help the teen and halted once rounding the corner. A hand reached out to him, dripping with blood. He couldn't move, frozen at the image in front of him. The sounds of battle echoed around, bouncing off the hastily erected wall. No... No! Small puddles were forming beneath the trembling appendage, tiny scarlet pools in the dirt.

"Why...Why didn't you help me...?" The hoarse words were mumbled, the boy's mouth barely opening.

"Fullmetal," he whispered through numb lips, swallowing. The beginnings of panic were starting to well within him, his heart racing. The color leeched from his face, his hands shaking. But, with the practiced ease of a war veteran, he shoved his panic aside and rushed forward, falling to his knees next to the injured alchemist. He scooped his hands around Ed's shoulders and lifted his head into his lap. "Ed, Edward! Can you hear me?" His voice was tight and urgent, traces of fear fluttering into his words. The familiar odor of burnt flesh reached his nose, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that had now soaked through his gloves and pants. He stared at the ruined gloves with wide eyes, his panic returning in a burst with the popping of gunfire nearby. Shit, he couldn't get a spark going with them like this. He couldn't protect him.

Once again fighting his emotions back, Mustang raked his gaze over the small, still form sprawled out on his lap. Golden hair was dyed red, matted with the blood that trickled idly from the back of Ed's skull. One arm was completely missing, metal fragments sticking out from a mangled automail port on his shoulder. Liquid rust lined each crevice, rolling down onto his already drenched chest. The other arm was mostly unharmed, curled around his abdomen protectively. The torso itself was torn up, ripped from several blades tearing through the soft, vulnerable flesh. Burns trailed up the boy's side, already formed blisters dripping clear pus onto the dark red ground. The wall, for all its effectiveness, must not have been as protective as Roy had initially thought. A pole was embedded in the blond's stomach, pining him to the earth below. Tearing along the edges of the wound showed that he'd already tried to get free. The Colonel had begun taking deep breaths, staving off his nausea at the sight. A small hole bit through the black shirt on Ed's right breast, blood flowering out from the bullet's entrance point.

It was with a heavy heart that he finished his check. There was so much blood. How could one person produce this much? And those burns... That was his fault. Most of these injuries were probably his fault. Guilt, sickening guilt, churned his already turning stomach. If only he'd fucking looked before he fired, then this wouldn't have happened. Ed whimpered quietly, dragging him from his daze, and Mustang finished his inspection.

A mechanical leg was practically blown apart, dangling uselessly from thin wires still attached to yet another port. What looked like one of the toes was jammed into the calf of the flesh leg, blood spilling out in surprising amounts around the edges of the false appendage. Stark white bone stuck through the thigh, the edge pointed. A hunk of flesh was impaled on the tip, torn directly from the border of the surrounding wound. It was still stained in scarlet, slipping in individual streams down the bone.

Mustang blinked back tears that he hadn't realize had formed, calculating which wound needed most attention. Light breaths cracked unhealthily near his ear as he leaned over and pressed down on the chest injury, almost reveling at the pained moan. Noise meant life. "C'mon Ed," he whispered urgently, fear leeching further into his voice. "You're gonna pull through this. It's going to be ok." His hands shook as his words did, adrenaline and fear snaking through his veins.

A hand encircled his wrist, its grip weak. "Colonel...I-it's ok..." Ed rasped. Roy glanced up at the boy's face, locking eyes with that sole glimmering golden orb. A tear dribbled down his face, falling onto the hand overlapping his own. He knew... He knew he wasn't going to make it. A faint smile ghosted over the blond's lips. "D-don't...blame yourself..." He coughed, coppery blood painting his lips. Roy was nauseated at the sight.

"Why don't you blame me?" he asked, voice quiet and saturated with self-loathing. "This is all my fault..." Ed's hand tightened around his own.

"Because you never blamed me..." The form took a shuddering, crackling breath and went limp on his lap, once golden eyes losing their luster and fading to a dull copper.

"No!" Mustang cried, grasping onto that bloodstained hand, now lifeless in his own. "Ed, don't do this!" He shook the body, almost desperate to get some sign of life. "ED!"

Mustang shot upright, a scream building in his throat. Instead he let his face fall into his hands, blessedly clean hands, a horrified sob lurching from his mouth. No... He'd never let that dream become a reality, not unless he died first.

No blood was smeared over his palms; he'd already checked. He needed to calm down. It was just a damn dream. He heard, but didn't react to, the soft footsteps thumping in the dirt outside his door. "Sir!" Hawkeye called from behind the door, her voice only slightly strained with worry. Roy was sitting up in bed, face in his hands, cold sweat dripping between his lax fingers. The sudden adrenaline rush caused him to tremble involuntarily. He looked up at her words, swallowing harshly to keep his simple dinner in his body. "Permission to enter?" Clearing his throat experimentally, he winced at the burning sensation. He must have torn his throat raw while sleeping.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant," he said, grimacing at the rough, grating sound of his voice. The door opened, revealing a bedraggled Riza, her uniform rumpled as if it had been hastily thrown on. Her blond hair was clipped back as normal, but not with its usual care. "What is it Riza?"

"They've returned." He didn't need any more clarification than that, hauling himself out of bed. Unlike her, he didn't even bother with his uniform, instead breezing past the blond and directly out into the open air. The sun was barely peaking over the horizon, sending most objects and people into sharp relief, their shadows extending far beyond themselves. Only a few soldiers were up and around, moving along the border of the Amestrian army camp. The sky was an interesting dark pink as it melded with the promising dark blue of midday. But none of these details distracted the Colonel from his destination. "They were all taken to the infirmary, sir." That caused him to pause, eyes widening.

"All of them?" No way that could happen, no way in hell. Havoc and Ed might be accident prone, but Breda and Falman usually avoided injury like the plague. If they were all injured… He shuddered at the thought. She just nodded, her face recovering some of its composure from the desperation and fear that had coated it earlier. He could tell though that she was just as worried about the implications as he was, though it wasn't immediately obvious in her countenance. Her hands trembled lightly as she walked, her back ramrod straight as though forced.

The door to the infirmary tent was an actual door, something that unique about its structure. Roy didn't bother knocking as he entered, pushing open the door with more force than was probably necessary. Patients jumped at the thud, startled awake out of their slumber. The three beds near the back of the tent were occupied by familiar soldiers, each with a nurse or doctor by their sides. Only two were awake, the other passed out as a doctor treated a bleeding wound on the man's thigh. The blond man had a white bandage wrapped around his forehead; the other just seemed dazed. A fourth man that should have been in this group was missing.

Roy walked up to the bed with the most awake patient, his pale face a huge contrast with the burning dark eyes. The man looked up, looking terrified at the soldier now looming over him. "Havoc," Mustang greeted, voice low and menacing. "Where's Fullmetal?" The blond's eyes widened, and it was only then that he noticed that his subordinate's pupils were dilated to an unhealthy level.

"Hello, Colonel..." Havoc slurred, smiling sheepishly. "Please don't barbecue me..." Mustang rubbed his fingers together, wishing for the rough texture of his gloves eating away at his skin. His dark eyes hardened, glaring harshly at the injured party.

"If you don't give me your report right now, Havoc, you will find out how it feels to have your skin burn. I'm not going to ask you again. Where's Fullmetal?" The words were spoken softly, but the sincerity could not be mistaken as something else. Havoc swallowed, paling further.

"He...uh...got taken by Cretan soldiers..." Mustang, who was in midsnap in threat, froze, lungs locking where they were. Ed... In the hands of the enemy... The form took a shuddering, crackling breath and went limp on the ground, eyes loosing their luster and fading to a dull copper. "No!" he cried, grasping onto that bloodstained hand, now lifeless in the sand. "Ed! Don't do this!" A hand touched his shoulder, drawing a startled jump from his form.

"Colonel, are you alright?" Riza asked. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, willing the abject terror from his face. When he knew that control was in his reach, he nodded.

"I'm fine, lieutenant," he responded, voice quavering slightly. Fuck. He should have known something was gonna happen. He had known! That fucking dream, it told him everything. But did he listen? Of course not. Glancing quickly at his lieutenant, heavy guilt surged through him. "Havoc, tell me exactly what happened during the battle. Do not leave out a single detail."

Mustang was scowling as Havoc finished, looking like he couldn't decide whether he was furious or worried. "You were the only one conscious for the entire thing?" he asked slowly, breathing deeply. Havoc swallowed, sensing the budding fury in his superior.

"Yes, sir. Even Ed lost awareness before I did," he responded, bringing a hand up to rub at the stiff bandage on the back of his head.

"Would you be able to tell us which direction they went if you returned to the area?" At his, the blond let out a relieved sigh. He could no longer feel his demise approaching and, with a quick check of Mustang's fingers, he noticed that they weren't tense and poised to snap.

"Yes, sir. No problem." The Colonel nodded, his dark eyes still stormy with turmoil. The remnants of some vision flickered in his gaze.

"Alright then 2nd Lieutenant, we will depart immediately-"

"Sir, you're not in uniform," Hawkeye shot in helpfully, her hands secured behind her back.

"-We will depart in a half-hour," he amended, after a quick glance down at his thin sleep wear. "Be ready." Havoc saluted, moving to get up. The doctor, who had been silent until now, forced him down and turned to face Mustang, frowning at the man in a way that most men couldn't do when faced with this specific Colonel. Suddenly, the urge to snap his fingers once again overcame the Flame Alchemist.

"With all due respect, sir," the doctor said, the trembling voice the only sign of his fear. "This man has a moderate to severe concussion. I recommend he stay here for observation." Mustang's thumb and middle finger pressed together, he sighed in annoyance, returning the glare full force.

"Your recommendation has been noted and will be denied. This is a matter of utmost importance so stand down, doctor." His tone of voice threatened the destruction of the medical man's career. The usually timid man looked as if he was seriously considering standing his ground against the higher ranking officer, but it took him only moments to back down and murmur a weary "yes, sir." Mustang nodded haughtily, his face still sporting that scowl.

FMAFMA

Roy squinted against the bright sunlight, a gloved hand coming up to shade his eyes. "Is this the place, Havoc?" he yelled to his subordinate, glancing back towards the man. At the 2nd lieutenant's appearance, he nearly winced in sympathy. Havoc's pallor was grey with pain and nausea, sweat dripping down his brow. Staggering as if drunk, he dizzily scanned the area. The concussion and the bright light of day didn't mix.

The blond crouched down, fingering a scorch mark etched onto the dirt. "Oh yea," Havoc said, grinning up at Mustang in a way that made the Colonel nervous. "This is the place." Hawkeye knelt down next to the soldier, examining the blackened dirt. Her chestnut eyes appeared troubled, her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Isn't this…flame alchemy?" she questioned in a whisper, capturing Roy's attention instantly. He completed his own investigation of the marks, removing a glove to run his bared fingers along the ground, feeling the fine texture caused by the heat of the flames. Shit, she was right.

"Why did you find it unnecessary to inform us of an enemy alchemist, Havoc?" he reprimanded, narrowing his eyes at the injured man. The subordinate's smile only widened, cheeks reddening from the laugh he was desperately holding back.

"Enemy Alchemist? God no, this was Ed. Burned himself pretty good doing it." Mustang's eyebrow twitched at the news, his expression evening out as irritation burst through him in a frightening amount. When he got his hands on that runt, he was going to strangle him. How dare he copy his trademark move! It had taken him years to perfect the alchemy and Ed just used it after watching him a few times. The kid was unbelievable. Served him right to get burned. Somewhere deep down, though, some pride burned within him.

But that disappeared quickly, worry replacing it. There was still a job to be done. "Enough Havoc, let's keep looking." Hauling himself up, Havoc looked around, expression grave. Wordlessly he continued on, hesitating on a few spots, each marked with bloodstains. Mustang and Hawkeye followed closely, their own eyes flicking around for any surprises that might wait them. The man stopped, staring at a slight indent in the ground, in the shape of a human body.

"Here's where I was," he murmured, circling the spot. Then he pointed to a small path that had been cleared in the debris of the machine. "And that's where Ed went."

"Are you sure?" Mustang asked, walking up next to his subordinate. Havoc nodded, green eyes serious.

"Positive." That was enough for the alchemist. He moved forward, leading the way through the debris. Splattered drops of blood periodically appeared throughout the trail and Roy knew exactly where they had come from. Scarlet puddles pooled beneath the still form, draining color away from those blank eyes. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reached out with violently shaking hands to lower the boy's eyelids. Snapping back to reality, he shook himself, forcing himself to focus. This was all his fault, wasn't it? And so, he was going to fix it.

Unconsciously, he moved faster, eyes watching the trail of blood that marked the path. He could almost imagine Ed, haphazardly slung over some soldier's shoulder, swaying limply as his captor moved, scarlet dripping from the fingers of his flesh hand. So caught up in that image, he tripped, nearly falling flat on his face. "Wha...?" he mumbled, glancing around. The ground was uneven, heaving and rolling as if it were as fluid as an ocean. Gunpowder speckled the dirt, bullets lodged in the stone of an out of place wall.

"It seems Ed woke up..." Havoc commented dryly, him and Riza coming to a stop behind the Flame Alchemist. Roy nodded, dark eyes already completing another, more thorough scan of the area. Behind a wall, the barest flash of a familiar red peeked out, billowing in the gentle breeze that brushed over the area. Heart freezing in his chest, he sprinted towards it, another picture flashing through his head; one of bloodstained appendages and strained breathing.

To his relief, it was just fabric, though it didn't come as much of a reassurance. Coppery liquid gathered around where the coat lay, soaking into the cloth. More was smeared against the rock, drying streaks flaking from the surface. Silver glinted in the sunlight, shining directly into Roy's eyes. A pocket watch, marked with the State Alchemist symbol, lay beaten next to the bloody mess. It was cracked open and stained as well, no longer shimmering with purity. The Colonel picked it up, denying the tremble to his hands, and it fell open in his grasp, revealing the words of guilt engraved on the inside surface. Don't Forget .11. This was Fullmetal's alright.

"Sir?" Riza asked, walking up to him. Her face was slightly blanched, chestnut eyes as calculating as ever. He snapped the watch shut, wincing internally at the creaking snap as it locked. Resisting the urge to check his own watch, he stood, turning to face his lieutenant.

"The trail ends here, doesn't it?" he asked, words soft. She nodded, lips twitching down into a barely perceptible scowl.

"Yes, sir. I checked the area personally. The markings that lead us here did not spread past this area. I'm sorry, sir." Mustang swallowed, unable to speak. Fury burned in his dark eyes, but at what or who, he was uncertain. It wasn't at Hawkeye, and it certainly wasn't at Ed (well maybe a little seeing as the runt did steal his technique. He would be getting back at him later for that.). And, of course, a little of it was reserved for they boy's kidnappers. Sighing, he faced the direction that would lead them back to base.

"Let's go." Havoc's face was pale as he saluted, be it from the concussion or the shock. Hawkeye said nothing, her hand resting almost lovingly on her gun. Guilt surged through him as he looked at her, and that's when he figured out who he was mad at. Himself. Completely silent, he led them out, fingers curled tightly around the trinket that remained in his grasp. Behind him, the jacket continued to flutter in the wind, a flag flapping a final goodbye.

DA: Well, I didn't quite make the deadline but at least it's still Friday (and it's only a half hour.)! XD hehehehe Anyways, I am complete amazed still by the response this fic has gotten. I'm so grateful to every single one of you who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it unfolds.

To answer a reviewer's(the name escapes me right now and I apologize. I'm not currently on my reviews page. I don't mean to offend.) question, I don't have my battles based on anything. They just kinda come to me and I write it as it appears in my head. Cool huh?

Anyway, as always, tell me what you think! See you all next Friday!

May your hearts stay strong,

DarkAngel555