Apotheosis

by Miskcat

Roy Mustang discovers that destroying the huge transmutation circle in the buried city beneath Central will be much more difficult than anticipated, with drastic consequences.

4. Details and Discoveries

Thanks so much to Roaming Fool, for looking through this chapter and suggesting very valuable changes!

This is a bit of an "interim" chapter, but I hope it's enjoyable. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 4 – Details and Discoveries

Scieszka must have glanced at the big brass clock, hanging between the two western windows, ten times in the last three minutes. The warm – even stifling – afternoon sunlight inched with excruciating slowness across the floor, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the pendulum beneath the large white face, swinging in ponderous time with the slow tick-tocks of the timepiece. Judging by its current pace, the last fifteen minutes of the workday would likely take three hours to pass. Meanwhile, she actually had to shade her eyes to hide the pendulum from sight, and keep it from lulling her into a snoring puddle in the middle of the papers on her desk.

A sharp rap at her office door jarred her out of her stupor. When Jean Havoc poked his ruffled blond head around the frame, her eyes widened. "Hi there," he flashed his amiable grin. "Got a few minutes?"

She blinked. "Lieutenant Havoc. Sure. What can I do for you?" The files rustled under her arms as she leaned forward on the desk, watching him push the door open and saunter into the small room. Of all the people in General Mustang's command, none of whom she knew that well to begin with, she knew this man the least. She wasn't sure what to make of his appearance, coming so swiftly on the heels of Winry's lunch with General Mustang yesterday, and Warrant Officer Falman's unexpected visit. Brown eyes large and wary behind her glasses, she carefully clasped her hands together on the papers she'd been organizing.

He turned around a couple of times, one hand massaging the back of his neck as he gazed at the bookcases lining the walls, stuffed with books and files. He whistled appreciatively. "I'm impressed. Are these all yours?"

"Well, I use all these records in my work, if that's what you mean. My own books are mostly at home."

"They say you've got a photographic memory too. So you remember everything you read?"

"Yes...," she nodded, questioning eyes following him as he drifted around the office. A loose floor board squeaked briefly under one of his boots.

"And you understand it all?"

"Yes, but what..."

"You've got to have a pretty sharp mind for that," he mused, running a long, casual finger along the spines of some of the volumes. The faint aroma of leather and dust wafted toward her from the books.

There was a point here somewhere. She was sure of it. "Lieutenant Havoc...?" she ventured. "Is there something you actually...want?"

The man glanced over, sky blue eyes widening. "What? Oh...right. It's just, I'm impressed by your abilities. I'm more of an action guy myself, and maybe I'm a bit envious."

"I could loan you some books now and then...if you wanted?" Was this really why he had come here? To talk about her reading, and his lack of it? This must be, she thought, what it felt like to hunt for sure footing in the middle of a marsh.

Again the surprise. "I might take you up on that sometime. But what I really need right now," he told her, leaning his hands on the desk, gaze narrowing and all hesitation vanishing, "is your help in the Records department."

Finally, she thought. A patch of solid ground in the marsh. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Havoc," she said, "but you've wasted a trip. My work straddles the Library and Investigations, and I don't have much to do with the Records de – "

"I know you don't." After all his meandering, the sudden sharp focus of his eyes disconcerted her. "We don't have time for the usual red tape. We need to sift through a lot of information very quickly, and you're the best person to help."

"All right, then, I'll do what I can." Chair scraping as she pushed it back, she glanced at the clock yet again. "Oh. It's almost quitting time. Shall I call and tell them we'll be there first thing in the morning? I'm not very senior – I wonder if they'll even let me get at the records you need – "

"Oh, they'll let you, don't worry." Havoc's grin was positively feral. "Whatever I need, they're going to give me. This is for Mustang's big project, and we pretty much get whatever we want these days."

That explained things. Winry had told her about General Mustang's plans to destroy that horrible transmutation circle in the cavern under the city. Scieszka nodded briskly. "Good, well, that'll save time, not having to get the usual permissions. We can go over when they open tomorrow, and start looking."

"Today," he contradicted. "I'm afraid it can't wait. I hope you don't have any plans for the evening."

She gaped at him. "I...I suppose I don't have any choice?" she faltered. In her experience, this always happened with Mustang's people. They just walked in and took control, and you didn't usually get to say no.

The same thought seemed to occur to the lieutenant, for he straightened up with a grimace and spread helpless hands in apology. "Look, I'm sorry if I seem to be railroading you, Scieszka, but this is urgent. I'd wait, but the boss plans to run me off my feet tomorrow. I need to find these quarries as soon as possible -- "

"Quarries?" Her eyebrows shot up. "That's what you're looking for? Quarries? As in, stone?"

"Yeah. See, the problem is – "

"Wait. Tell me on the way. Let's catch them before they lock the doors." She leapt to her feet, grabbing her office keys from a drawer.

But as she rounded the desk, Havoc caught her arm and jolted her to a halt, intense eyes fixed on her face. "This has to be hush hush till we get further along," he warned her. "And Scieszka..."

"What?" She tugged her arm free, rubbing it and eyeing him warily, wondering at his varying mood.

"Everything Winry told you yesterday? Absolutely confidential, all right? Nobody hears those details till the general gives the okay. Got it?"

Her jaw dropped. "You – you spied on us? How – ? Falman. He didn't really leave when he left, did he? I wondered why he kept hanging around. Of all the dirty, rotten – you people really – "

He held up his hands, actually backing away a step. The floor board creaked again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! For what it's worth, Mustang didn't order that. We were as curious as you were, so we sent Falman over to do some digging."

Whatever hesitation she'd felt a moment ago had utterly vanished. She glared, "And I thought he was being friendly. You all seem to think you can just do whatever you want, whenever you want. Do you people believe in laws at all?"

He ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair, dishevelling it even more than usual. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "we weren't trying to do anything wrong, or hurt you. We make mistakes sometimes, that's all."

"Well, it does hurt, Lieutenant Havoc – not being able to trust people you think are on your side."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that sometimes the right thing to do isn't always so clear. Even you and Winry did a bit of spying in the past when you thought it was important."

"We were spying on enemies. Winry and I aren't your enemies."

"Okay, you're right, I get it. But if it feels any better...we weren't really spying on you. We were spying on Roy. We thought he was keeping secrets again, and...," for a fleeting moment Scieszka saw a shadow lurking in the lieutenant's eyes, "...when he does that, it means he's trying to spare us, and he usually suffers for it." He blinked the shadow away and asked, "But now that you know what really happened down in that dead city...don't you think it's wise not to tell anyone?"

She wasn't quite ready to give up her irritation, even if she could see his point. "Yes," she agreed. "Winry and I had already decided that. But you never even thought about asking, did you? You just came in and started giving orders." She rubbed her arm again, wondering if there was going to be a bruise.

Havoc regarded her for a moment, before his lips twitched. "Well," came the laconic reply, "I do outrank you, so I can sort of do that."

Her sense of humour always got the better of her. Before she knew it, she giggled despite herself. "Oh, all right. But just remember, lieutenant. Try talking nice to people, before you barge in and order them around. It gets better results."

"Right. I'll remember," he grinned. He sketched a deep, formal bow. "Meanwhile, Miss Scieszka, may I humbly beg your urgent assistance in the Records department? You'd be doing me a great service." Maintaining the stiff pose, he peered at her from under his eyebrows. "Is that better?"

She jangled her keys at him. "I was already on the way before you interrupted. Sir."

He laughed, straightening, and motioned her to precede him out the door into the cooler air of the third floor hallway. Then as she locked the door behind them, and they began the long walk to the stairwell, he described exactly why he needed to find, of all things, the locations of nearby rock quarries.

It seemed that General Mustang's crew had recruited a couple of stone alchemists to repair the hole the invading ships had created when they burst from the underground cavern. However skilled these alchemists might be, though, they couldn't create new rock from thin air. But it would be too hard to drag any rubble above ground for the repairs.

"Some of the boulders down there are huge," Havoc explained. "I mean, really huge, the size of houses. And it's just not practical to bring any rock up here, whatever its size, because the only way to get in and out is a long stairway. So I'll need a large supply of raw stone from somewhere else, fast."

They started down the wide stairwell, footsteps echoing in the warm, dappled space. Light slanted through the high windows in the outer wall as the sun continued its gradual descent outside. Whenever Scieszka tried to look up at the lieutenant, loping down the stairs beside her, the sunlight blazed into her eyes. So she kept her head down, hopping from one marble stair to another, running her hand along the smooth, cool wooden rail, as her mind became more and more engaged and her energy level rose.

She had already drawn some conclusions. "I see why you need more than one quarry. That's going to take a lot of stone. And you're also going to need an awful lot of trucks to bring it here."

"I know," he agreed gloomily. "It's a logistical nightmare, and Mustang's in a hurry. Hawkeye's going to have the same problem when she starts organizing the evacuations."

"Well," Scieszka told him perhaps more smugly than she intended, "I can help with that too. We can go through the records of all the vehicles owned by the military, and requisition them. And I know where to find the records of civilian vehicles. I don't think we'll have any trouble finding enough trucks; it's just a matter of getting hold of and organizing them once we find them."

They arrived at ground level and Havoc opened the door, frowning thoughtfully at her. They started along the flower-lined walk to the records building next door, one side of the huge central plaza visible past a long green lawn to their left, between the buildings. Havoc maintained silence for a long time, until Scieszka glanced curiously at him. He returned the look, and wondered, "If I asked that you be seconded to the general's command until this whole business is over, would you forgive us and agree to it?"

She realized, wide-eyed, that he was actually giving her a choice this time. If she said no, she'd probably still find herself interrupted at a moment's notice and dragged off to help. But the lieutenant appeared to be trying to give her as much choice as he could, under the circumstances.

And really...the whole project already had her mind racing of its own accord, plotting the most efficient way to organize things. And she was already using the word 'we'...

"Will it make a difference," Havoc added, misinterpreting her delay, "if I promise that you'll only have to deal with me and Hawkeye, and won't have much contact with the general?"

"General Mustang?" she asked. "Why wouldn't I want contact with him?"

"Well," he shrugged awkwardly, "Winry's your friend, and I know she still gets uncomfortable because of...things. So I just wondered..."

"I'm fine with the general, Lieutenant Havoc, so that's no problem. And Winry's getting better. We talked it over last night, and she decided to stay around Central for a while, and go to that party General Mustang talked about, for the end of your project. He invited us, you know."

"Did he?" the man raised his eyebrows. "He didn't mention that. Well good, I'm glad you'll be there. More young ladies to dance with," he added, and grinned at her giddy laugh. But his smile vanished as he asked again, anxiously, "So what do you think? Will you join us for the work too?"

"Of course I will, lieutenant. It's just the sort of thing I'm good at."

With that, they arrived at the side door of the Records building. It led them down a dark, narrow corridor opening into the main two-storey lobby overlooked by an iron-railed balcony on three sides. As she walked with Havoc across the cool marble floor, Scieszka reflected that there were obviously marble quarries somewhere in the country. But the alchemists wouldn't need rock that was quite so precious.

Below the central balcony, a wide arched entrance led into an anteroom lined with leather chairs and small tables, with a windowed counter in the far wall where visitors handed their records requests to presiding clerks. Beside the window, a door opened into the inner sanctum of the records department. Locked, Scieszka was sure, from the inside. Already she could sense the wonderful combined aroma of paper, ink, wood, and metal that constituted a centre full of records and storage materials. Probably only another bookish person could love the smell the way she did.

She watched Havoc lean over the counter and produce various credentials from an inside pocket. A slight, brown-haired young man peered carefully at the papers through thick glasses, then cast a sceptical eye at the lieutenant and called over his shoulder, "Mrs. Watt, I think you'll need to deal with this request yourself."

His supervisor immediately strode toward them from a chasm between two massive shelving units. Scieszka had seen the tall, buxom head of Central Records a few times before, at meetings involving the organization of Investigations files. But she hardly expected Mrs. Watt to have noticed her, a lowly Private taking notes while the higher-ups made executive decisions. Indeed, the woman barely glanced at her before taking the papers from her subordinate and scanning them quickly. Light glinted from a couple of stray grey hairs as her head lifted again.

She folded up the papers with a brisk snap, handing them back to Havoc. "This is not standard procedure," she informed him, brown eyes distant and unimpressed, barely acknowledging his existence. "There are proper channels for rush requests, and we expect them to be followed."

He tapped the papers against his chin, remarking, "I guess I don't rank high enough to override the usual form-filling, after all. But don't worry, I'm sure the Flame Alchemist – I mean General Mustang, my boss – will be happy to drop by in the morning and," he smiled that feral smile again, "persuade you."

Mrs. Watt froze like a rabbit in the headlights. Havoc maintained the smile. Scieszka briefly entertained a burst of pity.

The woman cautiously licked her lips. "Roy Mustang. The..."

"The Flame Alchemist, yes," Havoc supplied. "You know. The guy who blew up all the invaders a few weeks ago. And some buildings and streets. And even a few cities, back in the day." He smoothed the bundle of papers, thoughtfully, between two fingers. "Guy sure has a temper, when you think of it..."

"But still," she faltered, composure visibly cracking, "there are procedures..."

He leaned one elbow on the counter, bending forward. "He's trying to save the world, Mrs. Watt. Who knows when the invaders will try to come back? The question is whether history decides you helped him – or helped them."

Uh oh, Scieszka thought. He overplayed that one. Mrs. Watt drew herself up to her full, imposing height, composure regained and her gaze positively emanating frost. "Young man," she said. "Do not insult my intelligence or try to blackmail me. I'm well aware of General Mustang's record and authority. I will bend the rules for this special case. But I will not tolerate disrespect or attempts at manipulation. Is that clear?"

Different deer, different headlights. Finally, "Yes, Ma'am," Havoc agreed meekly. "Sorry. It's just so important, I...got a little enthusiastic. Sorry."

"As long as we understand each other. Well, come in, then. Of course I'll stay and help in whatever way I can."

"That might not be necessary, Mrs. Watt," Scieszka put in. "If you just show me where the master card file is, I think I can find what we need from there." She did understood the woman's reluctance to leave the files in someone else's hands; she felt that way about her own records. Every other record keeper would harbour the same fears: that the user of the materials would refile things in the wrong place, spill something on them, or lose them altogether.

"And you are...?" the woman raised her eyebrows.

"Scieszka's helping me," Havoc supplied. "She knows how to get through information fairly quickly."

"Scieszka?" Mrs. Watt repeated. "From Investigations?" She pulled the door open, allowing them to step in past her. "Oh, I know all about you, young lady. You're the one who did all that marvellous work, investigating Brigadier General Hughes's death on your own. That's all right, then." Her frosty demeanour melted further with every word. "I know you, at least," this, with a withering glance at Havoc, "know what you're doing here."

For a few moments, as Scieszka tried to absorb the idea that she'd acquired some notoriety and a good reputation through her investigations into Maes Hughes's death, it was hard to concentrate as Mrs. Watt showed her the internal workings of the Records department. Finally she took herself firmly in hand, pulling a notepad from a pocket and taking meticulous notes. The Records head took her to the master card file, a polished wooden cabinet of small drawers rising row upon row, filling up half a wall. Encouraged by the awe with which the girl greeted the sight, Mrs. Watt explained how to use it, and then took the proffered notepad to make sure Scieszka hadn't missed anything important.

Finally satisfied on that count, the woman collected her briefcase from her desk, and prepared to leave, her assistant having departed already after closing the counter opening with locking metal shutters. She smiled at Scieszka as she stood, hand on the doorknob. "You have a good grasp of everything now, I think," she remarked. "Remember to lock the door when you go, please. And make sure the lieutenant doesn't lose anything for us, won't you?" With a last, haughty glare at Havoc she pulled the door open, sailing through and shutting it firmly behind her.

Havoc had watched the entire process, arms folded, leaning against a nearby file cabinet. "You're very good. Like I said before," he grinned. "Impressive."

If she was blushing, she'd just die. She turned resolutely to the card file, running her hands over the brass handles on the little drawers, savouring the comfortable smell of paper, polish, and old wood. Plunging into the task at hand, she walked down the rows until she found the drawer labelled "Land Titles."

Within an hour, they had discovered that all quarries in this part of the country were located at a considerable distance from Central City. "I was afraid of that," Havoc muttered, leaning over her shoulder, surveying the papers spread on a table between two rows of filing cabinets.

"Why was that, lieutenant?" she wondered.

"They used alchemy to drag the dead city underground, and I figured it had to change the rock underneath Central. Armstrong couldn't say for sure, but I bet it was artificially constructed. So it would be more uniform, and probably wouldn't have the usual pockets and seams of different stone. So I had a feeling we'd be out of luck." He straightened up. "Shit. This is going to take even longer than I thought."

"Don't despair yet, lieutenant." Scieszka's eyes narrowed. "We'll find the closest quarry and send trucks that way tomorrow. That will buy some time. Then I'll find trucks that are already close to other quarries. They don't all have to travel out from Central, you know. We can requisition vehicles that are out there, and cut the travel time."

"You're right, good thinking. I knew there was a reason I thought of asking for your help."

He favoured her with his most charming smile, but she merely rolled her eyes. "Don't flutter those baby blues at me, lieutenant," she laughed. "I've already agreed to join the team, remember?"

She bent back over the records on the table, encouraged by his chuckle, and continued plotting their transportation strategy. This project, she thought, was probably going to be the most fun she'd ever had.

- - -

Lance took a large chunk of chalk and began drawing a transmutation circle in the middle of the empty street, chalk scraping on stone with a faint hiss. Falman towered over one half of the circle, holding up a lamp to supplement the growing light of dawn, while Fuery watched the proceedings from the other side and Laura bent to follow her boyfriend's movements. The young man had abandoned his military uniform today, matching his girlfriend in black pants, shirt, and jacket. His glittering crystal pendant dangled freely below his chin as he frowned over his work, intent on his drawing.

Havoc, standing back a ways with Reg Cash, shivered a little as they waited for the sun to peek above the nearby houses and start warming the chilly air. So far, only a row of smokeless chimneys on the western side of the street, dark bricks gradually tinting to pinkish brown, hinted that sunlight might be nigh.

It was odd, he thought, how quickly a street became blank and lifeless. The families who lived along in this double row of houses had all been relocated since the invasion, until the authorities could be sure that the ground underneath was solid and secure. And already there was an air of emptiness permeating the street. It even smelled empty. Sterile. The similarity to the streets in the cavern below made Havoc's skin crawl.

Armstrong had chosen this side road, two blocks from the large hole, for a "trial run" in which the stone alchemists would analyze the stability of the ground and do some repairs. They would still concentrate, for the next few days, on sealing the openings Fuery and Falman uncovered, before they moved on to the more challenging job of closing the big gap. But today's demonstration would help the supervisors to assess their abilities and decide how to plan the rest of the work.

And, just as crucially, Cash would begin to get some idea of the stability of the ground under Central, and what the risks would be when he unleashed his explosive forces in the cavern below.

Havoc hoped Armstrong wouldn't decide to begin work on the large hole too soon, but he already felt better about the timing, now that Scieszka was helping with the trucks. He smiled to himself, reflecting that the cool air was probably all that kept him awake, since he'd been in the Records department until almost 3:00 a.m.

He couldn't quite stifle a yawn at the recollection, and promptly heard Roy Mustang's amused drawl, "Are we keeping you up, lieutenant?"

He glanced at his superior, standing with Armstrong and Hawkeye just beyond the edge of the light from Falman's lantern, one casual hand in a pocket. The man seemed to lurk in the shadow, his eye patch and fall of hair blending into the darkness behind him, but the upturn of his lips was clearly visible. Havoc chuckled. "I'm bored. I need some explosions."

"I could fix that," Cash remarked, eyes never leaving the chalk work. "A little firecracker in your pocket...lots of excitement."

Mustang snorted. "I could set his hair on fire with much less work." Havoc noted Laura's alarmed glance over her shoulder, and shared a grin with the general.

The echo of running footsteps in the empty street interrupted them, heralding the rushed arrival of Scieszka, a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand. She waved them under Havoc's nose as she skidded to a stop beside him, light from the lantern sparkling off her glasses. "Good morning, lieutenant," she bubbled. "I hope you're awake. We were awfully late last night."

"'We'?" Mustang's eyebrow shot up. "Why, Lieutenant Havoc. A little fraternization I'm not aware of?"

Havoc grinned again. "Not that I'm aware of either, boss. We were prospecting for rock."

"Which is why I'm here," Scieszka said, briskly pulling a pen from her jacket pocket and thrusting it at Havoc, along with most of the papers. "These are the requisitions for the first trucks. If you sign them now, I'll run to the garage and get them going. Oh, and General Mustang." She shoved a form at him, along with another pen. "You'll need to sign this one yourself."

"Scieszka," Havoc murmured, pressing the forms against his knee so he could scribble his signature legibly, "you are a wonder-worker."

"Thanks, sir. I'll have more wonders ready by the end of the day."

Mustang stepped further into the lamplight, scanning his own form. Again his eyebrow went up. "Havoc? You're multiplying my staff like rabbits lately. Who will you have for us tomorrow? Scieszka, are you sure you want to come on board?"

"I'm already on board, general," she replied. "You just need to make it official."

"And I've hit the jackpot this time." Havoc added a flourish to his final signature. "I don't think I need to recruit anyone else."

"I think you're right." Mustang signed the transfer form, handing it back to Scieszka, and intercepted the other papers as Havoc finished. Flipping through them, the general murmured, "This many trucks? For what, exactly?"

"Like I said, sir. Rock. We're sending trucks to all the quarries in the countryside, to bring it in."

"That's for us, isn't it?" Laura interjected eagerly.

"You got it. To rebuild the big hole," Havoc nodded. "And once the trucks are done bringing in the stone, they'll be ready for the evacuations."

"Good thinking." Mustang smiled at Scieszka, eye glinting. "Maybe I should just hand control of this project to you and Havoc. You're doing a bang up job so far."

"Thank you, sir," the girl laughed. "But I've got my hands full with the trucks. I'll leave the rest to you, I think. Now. I have to get to the garage." She turned on her heel, about to dash off again, and then just as quickly whirled back. "Forgot," she blurted, sketching a belated salute to the general. Then she turned again and ran off, melting into shadow long before the sound of her footsteps faded.

Everyone except Lance watched her go. Havoc murmured, fighting down another yawn, "Whatever gives her all that energy, I want some."

Hawkeye glanced at Mustang, eyes twinkling in the reflected lamplight. "You signed the form immediately. I need to revise my methods, I think." He burst out laughing.

Wiping the back of his chalk hand across his forehead, Lance sat up on his heels. "Done," he said, and all attention returned to him. He grinned up at his audience. "Anyone want a little show?"

Havoc checked over his shoulder; the sky above the eastern houses was quickly brightening from dark to pinkish grey. Even though Mustang waved Fuery, Falman, and the lantern back from the circle, the faces of the four alchemists now displayed vaguely discernible features. Armstrong and the general stepped closer, ready to lend a hand if needed. "Lance, Laura," Mustang instructed, "whenever you two are ready."

Laura dropped to her knees inside the circle, opposite her boyfriend. Their eyes met and locked, seeming to shut out all external awareness. They sat in motionless silence, then leaned forward simultaneously, placing their hands onto the circle at the same instant, fingertips almost touching. They bowed their heads as the power in the circle began to activate.

Streaks of red and silver light sprang from the lines of the array and grew in strength, strobing around the two young people's bodies. The red light pulsed, very slowly at first, then with gradually increasing speed. Lance gulped a gasping breath with each pulse, while Laura's silver light held steady, as though bracing him while he settled into the rhythms of the power. Eventually the red light slowed to match the speed of his heartbeat, and he swallowed hard, his breath calming as well, as if he had overcome a complicated obstacle.

As the crimson light of Lance's power radiated and pulsed, the stone in Laura's brooch flashed in time with it, while his crystal pendant glittered steadily, mirroring the constant flow of her power.

"I see," Mustang murmured. "Lightstone Alchemist...and Heartstone Alchemist." Even a few feet away from the circle, the air seemed to crackle with the power, but he stepped closer and leaned right over the glowing array. Light flared around him, glittering off the buttons of his jacket, striking sparks of diamond and flame from his unruly hair. Stretching his open hand fully into the light above the kneeling couple, he stiffened with a gasp.

Hawkeye lurched toward him. "Wait," Armstrong cautioned, halting her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "General...be careful."

Havoc, too, had been ready to lunge forward, but Mustang had already relaxed, eye closed, frowning. There were no further signs of discomfort, but Havoc didn't blame Hawkeye for the way she watched him. They'd only gotten him back a few weeks ago, and they'd both be damned if they let any harm come to him now.

Laura slowly opened her eyes, watching her lover's face. Lance concentrated, lips parted, inhaling and exhaling in quick, sharp breaths. "The ground beneath us," Laura murmured, "is...intact. Yes. It's solid...the matrix was shaken, but...settled back and maintained its integrity. We're safe in this spot."

Mustang shared a look with Armstrong. "Astonishing," the big man whispered.

"Going deeper...deeper...," Laura continued, eyes still fixed on Lance's tense face. "It's strong...holding. Deeper...let's go deeper...it's – NO!"

Lance gasped, head and shoulders jerking up, his piercing shriek reverberating along the street. Lips pulled back in a rictus of pain, he fought to keep his eyes closed and his concentration focused. But his fingers clawed the ground at his knees, digging grooves into the road surface with the flow of alchemic power.

"Delacoeur!" Mustang's fist clenched above the circle. He leaned further over, and Havoc wondered if he was about to pull the plug on the whole exercise.

"Lance!" Laura cried, eyes wide. "It's so – it's so – broad. So – so – open. We'll fall – we'll fall – Lance, pull up – get us up – "

He balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth. The red pulsing sped up as he fought for better control at some deep inner level, whimpering with staccato breaths. His skin gleamed red with the sweat of exertion, as though sheened with blood. Again, as Havoc watched the tense lines of Mustang's body, he thought the general might just cut this business short.

But at last the young alchemist took control, slowing his breath and the pulsing of the light, jaw clenched with the effort. His hands flattened again on the ground. Briefly he opened his eyes, meeting Laura's gaze and allowing a quick smile. He nodded once, waiting until she grew calmer, then closed his eyes again.

She swallowed, struggling for composure. "Just a bit farther, then," she murmured. "Moving outward...closer...the gap is there, in the distance..." Her gaze and concentration turned inward. Then, "Cracks," she blurted. "A few...but there are more, the farther we go...spreading and branching..."

The red light had finally settled back into a continuous, steady pulse, but now the white light intensified. For an instant, Havoc imagined he felt the ground vibrating under his feet. Laura closed her eyes again, brows drawn together. Mustang, still holding his hand above the circle, drew a sharp breath and jerked as though he'd been struck.

This time Havoc stepped forward, but Armstrong exclaimed, "Lieutenant, stop! He knows what he's doing. Wait." Havoc met Hawkeye's anxious gaze, tempted to disobey the caution.

But he held back a little longer, gnawing at his lip. The white light swelled to brilliance, then faded and frayed into the dawn glow. The red pulsed more and more slowly, until it, too, dwindled completely away. Laura and Lance opened their eyes at the same moment. He managed a weak smile across the circle at her, and she leaned forward, pulling him into her arms. He sagged, laying his head on her shoulder with a long sigh.

Instantly Mustang went to one knee in the circle beside them, a hand resting lightly on each of their backs. "Are you all right?"

Laura blinked up at him. "I think we'll be fine, general. In a minute or two. We haven't gone so far before." She stroked the hair that hung in damp clumps across her fiancé's eyes until he finally lifted his head and sat back on his heels.

"Well," he remarked. "That was an adventure." He smiled blearily, then flashed an impudent grin. "So, general," he said. "Was it good for you?"

Mustang's lips twitched. He flexed the hand that had bathed in the red and white light, and drawled, "Why yes, it was. Very satisfying." He got to his feet, followed by the two young people.

Lance staggered as he stood, and Laura slipped under one of his arms, pulling it around her shoulders. He grinned again, crookedly, pale face gradually regaining its colour.

"Now," the general said. "Tell me what you just did. Am I correct, Lance, that you seek out the inner workings of the stone, while Laura does the actual manipulation of its elements?"

"That's very perceptive, general," Lance agreed. "I found cracks running out from the fracture, and Laura repaired them as far as she could reach."

"And it was when you pushed your perception down too far," Mustang mused, "that you encountered the open cavern and had to pull up."

"General," Lance breathed, "could you really see everything we did? That's amazing."

"Not everything, but I could sense a lot of it, and I guessed the rest."

Laura lifted a knee and brushed a smudge of light dust from her black leggings. "That's excellent guesswork. But you know it could have been dangerous, don't you? The way you stuck your hand into the circle?"

"I know. But I knew I'd have at least two rescuers if there was trouble." Mustang cast an amused glance over his shoulder. Hawkeye's direct gaze didn't so much as flicker, but Havoc rolled his eyes. Did the guy ever miss anything?

"Well, just be careful in future," the girl advised. "Give us some warning, general, so we can take precautions in case there's a backlash."

"Lance," Havoc put in, "was there anything unusual about the actual rock?" He tapped a toe on the cobblestones underfoot. "Is it the normal sort of rock you'd find anywhere else in the country?"

"No," the young man shook his head. "It's not normal at all. As far as I can tell, every single bit of stone under Central City was created by alchemy."

"And that," Mustang reflected, "would be why there are no quarries close to the city. Good deduction, Havoc."

Laura now turned her gaze down the blocked street. The sun had finally emerged above the eastern roofs, casting shadows halfway across the road and sharply illuminating every outline, brick, and crack in the row houses on the western side. "Since we've repaired this area, we should be able to move, oh, a block closer, I'd say. About halfway."

"Very good," the general said. "Then that's where you'll start when you're done working with Fuery and Falman's exit points."

"I'd really rather finish this section today, General Mustang."

"Plenty of time for that later, Lightstone," he replied, turning back toward the others.

"But I want to finish it today – Flame," she retorted. "Maybe we can't rebuild the big gap yet, but I really want to start repairing the ground around it."

He stiffened, and rounded on the young alchemist. "Your first priority is to work with Fuery and Falman, which is every bit as important. Just start with that, and you'll get to the rest of the work when it's time. Is that clear?"

Laura glared at him, an angry flush creeping up her checks, and then shrugged, pursing her lips. "Fine. Whatever you say. For now."

He turned his back and moved to his next task. "And now. Cash, we should head below to meet Breda and your teams. Hawkeye, Havoc, you're with us as well. Carry on, Armstrong." And he stalked away without a backward glance, the sound of his footsteps cracking sharply off the brick walls of the houses.

"My my," Laura grumbled. "He really doesn't like to be contradicted. And you want me to think he's not a tyrant?"

Havoc retorted, "Lady, you really believe in walking on the edge, don't you? You might try looking in the mirror, when you talk about being contradicted. You'd better watch your step if you don't want to get singed."

"She won't be." Lance staunchly tightened his arm around the girl's shoulders. "I won't let anything touch her."

They both looked, Havoc decided as he walked away, absolutely scared to death.

The attention of the rest of Mustang's cadre now turned to the cavern, where a large quietly murmuring group of people awaited them in the square near the transmutation circle. Breda was in charge, assisted by Second Lieutenant Maria Ross and a couple of lieutenants who regularly worked with Cash. Havoc and Ross exchanged a smile. Whatever else was going on, he enjoyed how so many faces from two years ago were reappearing now. Kind of a "full circle" thing.

As his audience fell silent, Mustang began to explain the plan for laying explosives in several successive rings around and within the city. Havoc could tell, from the way people kept glancing over their shoulders at the looming tiers of silent buildings above, that this was the first trip down here for most of them. He empathized with their unease; every time he came down, the atmosphere of the place settled onto him, physically and mentally, like a lead blanket. He could feel it again: that sensation of the buildings leaning over him as though waiting to collapse on top of him the next time he glanced away. Already he'd begun to shift his shoulders, reflexively, trying to shrug off the dead weight of the city and its high roof of shimmering stone. It wore on a person's mind after a while.

But the way the newcomers also avoided standing anywhere near the transmutation circle reminded him of a herd of animals trapped between a cliff and a pool of quicksand. They were professionals, and he was sure they'd manage to suppress their uneasiness and get on with the job. But he understood how they felt, better than they dreamed.

"The problem with starting up there," Mustang said, waving a hand and breaking into Havoc's train of thought, "is that I don't have the accuracy or power to trigger the explosions from this distance. And by the time I worked my way around the circle, the earliest explosions would be out of time with the later ones. And I'd have to do it all again with the next ring. And so on."

Lieutenant Ross wondered, "Wouldn't it be enough to set them all on a timer, sir?"

He replied, "The precision we need is so crucial that, frankly, I don't want to trust the job to a mechanical device that could fail or mis-time. I know you'll all lay the explosives as evenly as possible, but in the end, there needs to be human control in case anything goes wrong."

Cash scanned the rising tiers of the city, turning slowly to view the entire circle. He interrupted himself to question the general. "You talk about limits in accuracy and power. I thought...didn't you alchemists have some devices, a while ago, to augment your powers? I thought you used them in..."

"Ishbal," Mustang finished flatly. "Yes. But those...devices...no longer exist. And I wouldn't use them if they did. I'll make do."

"Then you'll need a series of fuse lines, that you can ignite more centrally. They'll run up the streets and set off the outer explosions at about the same time. Those will trigger lines that are timed to set off the next ring. And so on."

"And then I could deal with separate discrepancies as they arise. That's how I hoped it could work," Mustang nodded.

Cash mused, frowning, "We'll lay everything out as accurately as possible. But some explosions may still go off time, even if the beginning is synchronized. You may not have quite the force you need at the end."

"That," Mustang answered smugly, "is where the Flame Alchemist really comes in. I'll put the final touches on, to correct those errors. That's why I don't want to rely on a timer, at any stage."

Cash's eyes flew to his face. At last he said softly, "I'm not sure you understand all the ramifications of this plan, general."

Mustang smiled and corrected him, "I understand it exactly. You forget, major. I also know something about exploding things, and I'm taking all the factors into account. All of them. I simply need you and your men to set up the rings for me."

"Are you...very sure about this?"

"I am absolutely sure."

Another long silence, as the munitions man searched his superior officer's face for...what? Havoc raised an curious eyebrow at Hawkeye behind the general's back, and was rewarded with the faintest mystified shrug.

Finally Cash nodded, despite his obvious if inexplicable reluctance. "Very well, General Mustang. If you want it done like this...I can set it up for you."

The next few minutes bordered on the chaotic, as Breda, Ross, and two of Cash's own crew organized the surveyors and munitions people into teams. These four would take charge of surveying and eventually laying explosives in different quarters of the city, with Cash overseeing everything.

Mustang and his two lieutenants hung back, watching the sorting process. Havoc noted yet again how the dead air of the cavern seemed to suck all sound into itself, muffling even the calling of names and general hubbub of the organizing.

After a while, to distract himself, he brought up his concerns about the long preservation of the city.

"Good thinking," Mustang said. He called Cash over when the organizing appeared to have passed to his sub-commanders. "A new issue, major," he said. "I didn't take all the factors into account after all. If it's alchemy that has kept the city so well preserved, there might be more difficulty in blowing it all up."

"Meaning it might have changed the composition of the buildings?"

"Yes. Which could change our entire strategy. Have your surveyors get started anyway, but Havoc, please let Armstrong know that I need Lance and Laura down here, first thing tomorrow. I think Lance can settle this question for us."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "You know Laura won't appreciate being delayed – again – in getting on with the project."

"That's why I'm letting Havoc break the news," Mustang replied smugly.

"You're all heart, boss," Havoc grumbled.

The major remained with them a few moments, watching his teams starting up into the empty streets to begin their work. The city briefly resembled an anthill, lines of people marching up almost every major road. He remarked, "Your people – Breda and Ross – they're quite good. They mesh very well with my crew."

"I'm glad it's working out, then," Mustang smiled.

Cash eyed him sidelong, the hint of speculation back in his eyes. "You know, general," he mused. "I don't know whether I should consider you an evil genius, or an inspired madman."

Mustang threw back his head and laughed. He drawled, "Why thank you, Major Cash. Either way, that's the nicest thing anyone's called me in a long time."

Havoc grinned. "Don't feel bad, Cash. The rest of us haven't decided either."

The major chuckled. But still...there was something in those grey eyes whenever he looked at the general. Something that didn't share in the amusement. Havoc couldn't help wishing he knew what it was.

It was this place, he decided with an involuntary shiver, casting yet another uneasy glance over his shoulder. It really creeped him out, every time he came here. It would be such a relief when this was all over.

But finishing the job depended on getting all the little details settled. And to that end, he headed back topside, to find Armstrong, check on Scieszka, and run a few other errands. He knew Hawkeye would begin meeting with city officials today about the evacuations, while Mustang reported the latest progress to the Council. They were all going to be very busy for quite a while.

It was great to have the team working together like this again.

- - -

The next morning felt like a duplicate of the morning before, except for the location: Mustang, Havoc, Hawkeye, and Cash waded through murky shadows along the centre aisle of the old religious sanctuary, as Armstrong, Laura, and Lance waited for them beside the front altar, in the light of a single lamp that burned just above the entrance to the stairway. Outside, the sun had only just begun to peer over the tops of the nearby buildings, and the morning chill hadn't quite vanished. At least Havoc had gotten more sleep last night.

Laura's tart comment was predictable. "There had better be a good reason for this delay, general." Lance stood at her side, biting his lip, head swivelling between his girlfriend and his superior.

"Not your concern, Lightstone." Mustang swept past her toward the stairs below the altar.

"We're not getting any of our work done, you know," she snapped at his back. "Not even the smaller things you've stuck us with."

"You wanted to work on the gap," he tossed over his shoulder, "so today you can examine the underside. And we have work for you in the cavern. Now stop complaining, and follow me. You'll think it's worth it, when you see the view."

The two younger alchemists fell into step behind the general and Hawkeye, followed by the others. The chill of the morning vanished quickly as they descended toward the uncanny warmth of the cavern. At first they walked down the stairs in silence, but it wasn't long until the whispers began: Lance and Laura exclaiming to each other as they passed, one after another, the ancient, broken statuary and wall carvings that adorned the walls of the stairwell.

"Look! Look at that one! Do you remember – we saw it in that book – "

"And look at that one. Doesn't it remind you of...?"

"We'll have to come back, later, when there's time."

"I could swear I've seen that inscription in..."

They were all the same, these alchemists, Havoc thought. Insatiably curious, always collecting knowledge from obscure and arcane sources. As the stairwell curved ahead, he was sure he saw the general smiling as he listened.

At last they emerged at the top of the high path near the roof of the cavern, and the young people saw the buried city for the first time. Lance gasped in wonder and, to her credit, even Laura stopped short with a muffled exclamation. As she viewed the city in all its silent, drunkenly-tilted glory, she swallowed and murmured, "All right, general, I forgive you. This was worth a delay."

"Magnanimous of you," he answered dryly.

"And the city is really empty?" Lance faltered, brows drawn. "How...how did this happen? A whole city. I don't understand. It feels so...so..."

Mustang regarded the young man's distress in silence, lips parted, until he finally looked away, jaw tight. "Long story, Heartstone," he said stiffly. "We don't have time for it."

Havoc realized he'd been holding his breath, and released it slowly. Only the general's inner circle had officially been told what had happened down here, and he agreed with the boss: nobody else really needed to know. Especially these kids.

As the seven of them proceeded down the long path to the bottom, Lance and Laura tore their eyes away from the panorama below, and concentrated on what they could see of the cavern roof. The gap was visible even though the sun hadn't yet reached it, revealed as a jagged patch of lighter grey gouged out of the darker surrounding rock. Yet the lack of light from outside was actually beneficial, allowing the strange silver radiance from the stone to emanate evenly and reveal details that would otherwise have been obscured by daylight.

The trek downward was almost a repeat of the trip down the stairs: Laura and Lance conferring softly, sometimes slowing down or even stopping altogether, pointing and whispering. Finally Mustang brought the group to a halt at the side of the path, and waited as they whispered, not even noticing that everyone had stopped. At length he asked, "What do you conclude so far?"

Lance looked up, and seemed surprised to see everyone waiting. But it was Laura who answered briskly, "I'm not sure if you can tell, General, but there are distinct cracks spreading from that hole, in all directions." She pointed and he drew close, bending to try to follow her sight line. He nodded as she continued, "I don't think the edges are going to hold much longer. I'm not just saying this because I want to get working on it; it really is precarious."

"She's right," Lance agreed. "Can you see those two patches near one of the edges, where the colour of the stone is lighter? That's where there's been a very recent rock fall. Probably in the last two days."

Havoc's breath caught sharply, heart pounding in his throat with heavy, painful thuds. The last two days. The general slowly straightened, staring upwards, every line of his body rigid. Havoc wished he could see his face.

But Laura could, and frowned uncertainly at what she saw. "General Mustang...? What's wrong? I promise we're not making this up..."

"Sorry. Of course. I believe you." The man visibly forced his shoulders to loosen, clearing his throat to relieve the strain in his voice.

Sometimes it seemed that the guy was superhuman, the way he could pull himself back from the brink. Havoc's own heart still raced with horror, and he had to make himself keep his head down. Not look at the gap in the roof. Not look at anyone nearby. Especially...especially...

Mustang continued, though his voice remained taut, "We'll speed up your schedule as much as we can. Havoc, you and Scieszka must get those first shipments here as soon as humanly possible. And when we've got any usable stone at all, Laura and Lance, you'll start work on the weakest points of the gap. Thank you for the warning. Now let's get on with the business at hand."

Armstrong peered a moment at the general's face before motioning for the two young people to follow him down the path. Mustang hesitated and then, as though dragged against his will, turned slowly toward Lieutenant Hawkeye, who waited in silence behind him. His gaze met hers, single eye dark and troubled against his pale skin. Her lips opened, just slightly, but she said nothing.

Havoc found himself holding his breath again, whether in fear or anticipation, he didn't know. He didn't want to know what he was waiting for.

"Dammit, Hawkeye." A harsh whisper, bursting out of its own accord. Mustang clenched his teeth to contain what might have followed, and turned on his heel to stalk after Armstrong and the others. The lieutenant's fists, held tightly at her sides, released with a spasm, and she headed down after him.

"What the hell, Jean...?" Reg Cash, hands on hips, frowning in consternation as he watched the duo's progression downward.

"She..." Havoc swallowed around the raspiness of his throat. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to collect himself. "She explored the city right under the gap a couple of days ago. He told her not to, and she just went ahead anyway. She's...supposed to be protecting him, you see. Not the other way around."

"I...see." The man shook his head, and growled, "So tell me. Are all of you trying to get killed down here?"

"No," Havoc chuckled weakly, pulling himself upright, "just some of us." He met his friend's sharp glance with a rueful grin. "Let's get going, Reg. They'll work it out. They always do."

"If you say so. Meanwhile, I've got to get my teams out from under that hole, until these kids can guarantee there'll be no more rock falls."

At the bottom, having stopped near the edge of the array at a building that appeared to have been a small residence, Mustang was already explaining the latest problem when Havoc and Cash caught up. He appeared, at least externally, to have recovered his equilibrium, sparing them the merest glance as they approached.

"What we need to know," he was saying to Lance, "is whether the molecular structure of the city was altered when it was sucked underground and preserved. And whether normal explosives will be effective against it."

"No problem, general. Easy to find out." Lance pulled out a stick of chalk and sketched a small transmutation circle on the front wall of the house, finishing with a dramatic flourish. He tossed the chalk in the air, winking at Laura, standing on his other side. She caught it matter-of-factly, apparently used to these little gestures. Now he reached out his hands, and for the first time, hesitated. "It already...it feels odd," he whispered.

Mustang put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it does," he murmured. "I've got you, if anything strange happens."

Lance steeled himself and pressed his hands onto the circle. It glowed bright red, again pulsing to match the rate of his own heartbeat. There was no mix of Laura's white light this time, but the pendant hanging over his heart glittered occasionally as his power grew in strength. He bowed his head, closing his eyes, hair falling forward and sweeping his cheekbones.

But in just a few moments he relaxed, let the light fade, and told the general, flicking the hair out of his eyes, "That was easier than I expected. And yes, the buildings were altered, but the binding is very light. Almost...," he searched for words, "...almost a veneer on top. It preserved the stone and brick against normal degradation, though I don't think it worked as well on wood. But if it's jolted by explosives, it's brittle enough that it won't resist. So it shouldn't be a hindrance."

"Delacouer," Mustang said, squeezing the younger man's shoulder, "you've just removed what could have been a fatal obstacle to this whole plan. Good man."

Lance flushed with pleasure. "General – thanks – that means – I mean, I'm glad I could answer your question."

Havoc restrained a chuckle, but shared a knowing glance with Hawkeye. It looked like Roy Mustang was in the process of attracting another disciple. Moths to a Flame, they all were. Laura, looking slowly from one to the other, seemed to be trying to decide whether she was entirely pleased.

"All right, Cash," the general began, turning briskly to the newcomers, "we'll stay on the schedule we've set. Armstrong, we'll meet with Fuery and Falman to adjust – "

"Lance!" Laura burst out. "What are you doing?"

The young alchemist had stepped away from the group. As the others turned to check what was going on, he had already lowered himself to one knee at the edge of the large transmutation circle, reaching out a curious hand.

"Delacouer! Stop!" Mustang shouted, leaping forward, but it was already too late.

Lance's hand touched ground. Light flared into being underneath it, blossoming into white shards, spreading along several lines of the array and stabbing up toward the cavern roof. The glow quickly shaded into darker tones, plummeting through the colours until it deepened to blood red, throbbing quickly into synchronization with his racing heart.

He stared into the light, dark eyes widening in mounting horror, malevolent crimson streaks slashing his face as though someone had taken a knife to him. He gasped in pain with each stab of light. Though his arm shook as it supported his weight, he wouldn't – or couldn't – pull his hand away.

Hawkeye caught Laura from behind as she dashed toward him. "Wait!" the woman commanded, trapping the squirming girl firmly in her arms.

Mustang clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder, yanking him backwards, away from the circle. Hot sparks flew under Lance's fingers as the connection broke. He sat back on his haunches, gasping, and threw his arms over his head, screaming as though his heart had been ripped from his chest.

"Lance!" Laura's scream rose in response. "Let me go – he needs me – let me go!" But Hawkeye's arms were like chains, holding her firm no matter how wildly she struggled.

Mustang fell to his knees beside the young man and threw his arms around him. Lance collapsed against him, hysterical sobs heaving through his body. "It's all right, Lance. You're safe now. It's all right."

"No! It's not – there's no – how can you use that word??" Lance cried raggedly. "It's not safe! It's – it's – "

"Hush," Mustang soothed. "It's over now. I've got you."

Lance raised his deathly pale, tear-streaked face and clutched at the man's uniform with fingers like claws. "General – I felt them – "

"I know."

"They were in torment – they were screaming – and screaming – "

"Oh Lance, I'm sorry."

"Who did this to them – who would do such a thing?" The pitch of the young man's voice rose with his distress. "The people – all the people of the city – they're all in the circle! All their souls, all of them!"

Laura stopped struggling in Hawkeye's arms, her mouth dropping open. The blood drained from her face as she traced the lines of the circle with her eyes, absorbing the import of her fiancé's words.

"How could someone do this?" Lance cried. "Use alchemy this way! To kill people! To kill a whole city! Kill so many...so many..." He stared into the general's face, the words backing up in his throat as he finally realized just what he was saying. And to whom.

"I'm sorry," Mustang whispered. The young man bowed his head and leaned against the man's chest, the hysteria gradually subsiding until he was left weeping softly. Mustang tightened his arms around him and murmured, "I never wanted you to know about this. I didn't want either of you to be touched by this kind of atrocity."

The general lifted his head, and for some reason, turned his gaze to Reg Cash. "Well, Major?" he said softly. "Do you understand now?"

Havoc looked from one to the other, brows drawn in bewilderment. But whatever he was missing, Cash himself seemed to understand too well. The man's face was positively ashen. He stood ramrod stiff, and made no reply except a single jerking nod.

Lance's hands clutched Mustang's uniform again as he exclaimed, "Just tell me what you want, general. Anything! Whatever I have to do to help end this – I'll do it. We both will. It's – it's too horrible."

"You're already doing all we can ask, kid." The man managed a twisted smile. "We're all going to make sure this thing is destroyed, believe me. And we can't do it without you. But first you have to let this go."

"Let it go! How, sir? How can I ever forget this?" Lance gulped down a couple more sobs. His whole body still shook in the circle of the man's arms.

"You never forget," Mustang told him. "But you let the horror flow away, and retain only the resolve to stop things like this from ever happening again. It's hard to learn – I hoped you'd never have to learn it – but you can do it, Lance. I know you can. And you'll have lots of help."

Now he looked over and waved for Laura to come. As Hawkeye released her, she virtually flew to her lover's side, collapsing to her knees, as Mustang pulled away and allowed her to take his place. The two young people clung together at the edge of the circle, while he stood and walked back to the others.

"Well," he remarked, echoing Lance's words from yesterday. "That was an adventure."

"Will he be all right?" Hawkeye asked.

"I think so. Laura will see to it. We won't ask them to do any work today."

"And are you all right, boss?" Havoc put in.

Mustang glanced over in surprise. He met Havoc's eyes for a moment, before smiling wryly. "Yes. I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Let's just keep going. We need to keep going until we're done."