What's that? More Barry the Chopper insanity? That's what you want? You got it! :D

Disclaimer: As per usual, I own nothing.

Chapter 4: A Deal with the Devil

"So the first person you murdered was your wife?"

"Well, you're not one to beat around the bush, are you?" Barry chuckled. "Yes, my wife – she was nagging me about something, can't remember what, and I just… accidentally chopped her up. It just sort of, happened, you know?" Her blank stare said it all: no, she didn't know. "Well, anyway, yes, she was the first one. And once I had tried it, I had to have more – more, more, MORE!"

"So… you're addicted to killing? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Addicted's such a negative word. I prefer obsessed."

"And you don't miss your wife at all? You don't regret a single murder?"

"What's there to regret? I'm Barry the Butcher, Barry the Chopper – I live to kill!"

"But she was your wife. Isn't there some reason you married her in the first place? Didn't you at least love her at first?"

He paused. "You know, I can't remember anymore!"

Kate tilted her head, frowning. "You don't remember? Not even your wedding day – surely you remember that, at least?"

Barry twitched a little, attempting without success to shake his head. "Nope, not a thing!"

She stared at him for a moment. "I don't buy it."

"What?"

Her cobalt eyes stared at him shrewdly. "Either you don't remember anything at all before you killed her, or you remember and just don't want to talk about it. Which is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he said airily, but when she continued to gaze at him coldly, without speaking, he sighed and gave in grudgingly. "I suppose – I do remember, a tad," he said, a sly edge suddenly sharpening his tone. "Although I think it might be easier to remember… if I had a complete face."

Her eyebrows arched up considerably at this, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Did you really just say that? That was possibly the worst attempt at manipulation I have ever witnessed in my entire life. Did you really think that would work?"

"Yes," said Barry, the confidence in his voice shattering hers. "I did."

"But – that's ridiculous," she countered, his conviction giving her an uneasy feeling. "I told you I'd fix you when I felt like it, and not before."

"And I don't have to talk until I feel like it," he replied; if he'd had a full face, he would have smirked. "I'm not asking for anything too ridiculous, my dear… simply a fair trade. I'll talk, answer everything you like – and in return, you will fix me up a little each day, until I'm good as new."

Kate fumbled for an advantage. "You're underestimating me, buddy. You forget that I don't have to fix you – for that matter, I could destroy you anytime I felt like it." She touched the piece with his bloodseal pointedly.

He shivered, but lost none of his bravado. "But you won't, will you?"

She drew back a little, shocked. "What?" Just the night before he had been preaching the beauty of murder, and the idea that every single person wanted to kill, including her. Now he was saying she wouldn't do it – when, according to logic, he was exactly the kind of person she should kill? "I thought we were all killers, even me?"

"Oh, but you misunderstand!" Barry replied. "I'm not saying you don't want to – I'm saying you won't. Not for a lack of desire to, but because you want to get inside my head, and the only way you can do that is if you keep me alive. As long as I have information you want, I get to live. And as long as you refuse to fix me, I won't talk."

His smugness was both infuriating and a little frightening – although, she had to admit, he had been given a lot of time to think. Big mistake, she thought, though how she could have avoided it, she didn't know. "What makes you think I'd agree to this?"

"You're an alchemist, right? What's that ridiculous little phrase you people always toss around? Ah, yes – equivalent exchange." His eyes seemed to gleam in the dark, in spite of being nothing more than empty sockets. "I give you what you want, and you give me what I want. Sounds fair to me!"

She gaped. In some strange, twisted way, he was, she saw, kind of right. And though she hated to admit it, it really was equivalent; her desire to understand him may have been almost as strong as his desire to be whole again. You're sick, she thought, but she wasn't thinking it about him. "I suppose… that you have a point."

"And…?" he prompted eagerly.

"And…" She sighed, passing a hand over her face tiredly, wondering what in hell was wrong with her. Roy is gonna kill me if he ever finds out. "All right, Barry. Dammit, you win. I'll do it."

He laughed triumphantly. "Beautiful! Wonderful! I can't tell you how happy this makes me!" When she did not move, however, his joy began to fade. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Your part of the bargain. You talk first, and then, depending on what the information's worth, I'll decide how much and what part of you to fix. That's my deal – take it or leave it."

Barry growled, his voice full of fury and vexation. "All right! All right! Fine, have it your way!" he exclaimed. "What would you like to know, my little extortionist?"

She sat back, propping her feet up on the table near his face as she leaned back in her chair, glad to have reclaimed at least a little power over the situation. "I believe we were talking about your wife?" Then she caught herself; if she was going to play this game with him, she had to remember the rules – and she had to be very, very careful. "No – wait. That information is too valuable to start out with. I need to make this last." Ignoring his protests, she cocked her head, considering her options. "How about… the execution? You were supposed to have been killed. Why did they do this to you instead?"

"You mean you haven't already heard?" he asked, surprised. "Communication within the military really isn't very good, is it?" She frowned. "I'm surprised the Colonel didn't tell you himself. Or Falman, or Hawkeye."

They all knew? Where was I? She winced; she had been in Rizembool when she obviously should have stayed in Central. "Looks like I missed out on all the fun," she mused, ignoring her initial, stupid hurt feelings in favor of fascination. "So fill me in."

For the second time, Barry relayed everything he had told Colonel Mustang and Falman; the secrets of Lab 5, the use of criminals to forge a philosopher's stone, and how he had served as a guard for the lab as a suit of armor, rather than being executed. When he was done, Kate sat in awe, openmouthed and dumbstruck, her face sheet-white.

"You mean to tell me… the military…" She couldn't even finish the sentence. It was not that she mistrusted Roy or the rest of the gang for not telling her; more than likely, Roy figured the fewer people that knew, the better. After all, hadn't Hughes been killed for knowing too much? Nor did she think for a minute that any of them had been in on this; no, what was really disturbing was what their innocence meant: this had come from higher up. Much higher up.

She'd heard of corrupt governments, but this was a whole other level.

"Now that," Barry said, "must have been worth at least half my body."

She blinked, brought back to the present by his voice, and forced herself to focus on his words. When she had processed what he said, she chuckled.

"What?" he demanded, his tone hinting slightly at desperation. "What are you laughing at? That was valuable information!"

"Not to me," she replied coolly, all traces of her momentary horror nearly completely erased from her features – though her eyes still looked spooked. "This is all about you, remember? All that stuff about the experiments and the military had nothing to do with you, so it doesn't count. All you really told me was that you've been working as a guard dog in Lab 5, having had your soul ripped from your body courtesy of the military. Which is interesting enough," she conceded, "though it's certainly not worth half your body."

As he rattled off indignant protests, she looked over his fragments, knowing she had to choose wisely. If she put him together too quickly, gave him the wrong body parts back too soon, he could easily kill her during the night.

Then she remembered watching Alphonse and Edward spar, training during their breaks. She remembered Ed knocking Al's head off, and laughing when his brother's headless body chided him for making him dig through the bushes to find it again. Smiling to herself, Kate reached for Barry's jaw.

"What's so amusing?"

Instead of answering, she pulled his jaw closer to his face; clapping her hands, she placed them on him, and with a flash of light, reconnected the lower half of his head to the upper half. Still, that wasn't much; as Barry was quick to point out, it wasn't quite equivalent.

So she scooped together some more pieces; putting them together in a pile, she repeated the transmutation process, and when she was done, a fully formed right hand lay on the table between them.

Barry laughed hysterically. "Ah, at last! My hand! Now I can get my knife, and…" He stopped suddenly, looking frustrated. Kate watched with amusement as he stared at his hand, obviously trying to move it. "Hey… hey, what gives?" His eyes met hers, and his expression turned black when he realized what she had already remembered. "You… you devious little…"

"You can't move anything not attached to your bloodseal, can you?" she asked, folding her arms with a look of satisfaction. "I thought so. This will make things considerably easier for me."

"But – but that's not fair!" Barry sputtered. "You… you said—"

"I haven't broken the rules," she said. "I agreed to fix you a little bit at a time, in return for you answering my questions. I never said what parts, in what order, or that I would allow you to move said parts once I'd fixed them."

"But what good is that to ME?!" Barry demanded hysterically. "WHAT GOOD IS A BODY I CAN'T USE?!"

"Well, at least you can move your whole face now," she replied. Stretching, she yawned, and rose from her chair. "And eventually, when I've put all of the rest of your body back together, I won't have anything left to do but attach your head – and then you'll be able to move everything. That way, I keep my promise, but I don't have to worry about being murdered in my bed during the night."

"We'll see about that," Barry retorted, but it was an empty threat and they both knew it.

Kate patted his head patronizingly and headed for the door. "Thanks for an interesting night, Barry," she said over her shoulder. "Good night."

"Wait! Don't you want to know more? Then you can fix more of me!" he called after her, but it was no use. She shut the door behind her with a thud like a period at the end of a sentence; she was done, and he would not see her again till morning. He sighed. "Well," he said to himself, "at least I've got a face, and a hand. And I can still see my beautiful knife…"

Outside the door, Kate stood stock-still, her shoulders squared and her muscles taut. She had held out just long enough to fool Barry, but now that he could not see her, she could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, her heart weighing heavy and miserable in her chest. Connor, she thought despairingly, you couldn't have… could you? Yet there was no reason for Barry to lie, and every reason to believe her brother knew something of what the killer had told her. She tried to step away from the door, but instead crumpled to her knees, covering her face with her hands as she tried to smother the sounds of her anguish. Her own brother… could it be? And yet… how could it not be?

Before being assigned to Lab 3, Connor had worked in another of the military's laboratories, one which Kate had heard all too much about lately; now, she wished she had never heard of it at all. Before his current position, Kate's older brother had been a scientist in none other than… Lab 5.