I own nothing. References to James Bond and while I'm on the subject there will probably be references to the Hustle series in future chapters. Because they rock. Also appologies if I spelt any of the FMA countries wrong, I tried to double check them.

Which is rather too full of Aunts

There was no warning flash of light on his side of the wall; it just caved in, tons of concrete dispersing into dust. It was so bright in the corridor outside, and suddenly it was so loud as well. Someone was yelling, but for what seemed like a long time it was just noise.

"He's not moving." A voice he didn't recognise snapped.

And something was in the light. It tramped over the array, making Envy wince with every loud jarring step. It stooped, grasping what was left of his coarse dark hair and tugging. The shock of it, the sudden….sensation reminded him to breathe again. They dragged him blinking and gasping into the light.

"Envy!"

Pride, it was Pride.

"He doesn't look much like your description." The woman standing over him observed, letting go of his hair. "Get him up."

"But he doesn't-doesn't always look like……that." Pride whispered.

There were three of them, two women-at least he thought there were two but they were about the same height, southerners with that little kick of Aerugese and they were both wearing the sort of unnecessary amount of black that suggested alchemist amateurs. It could have been double vision of course. But their actual numbers didn't change the fact that his ass was being saved by bloody alchemists who'd decided to take up breaking into military property on a whim. And his retard brother of course. He choked. It was a while before he realised that it would probably normally have come out as laughter.

I've finally lost it.

"Martha this isn't going to hold back a special forces unit forever!"

Brilliant, splendid, five hundred years and a few measly weeks in a dark room and I'm completely cracked! I'm going to die. I always knew it would be Elric's bloody fault-

"Get him up!" The alchemist snapped again.

Envy made a token effort to stand up on his own and gave up half way through the attempt. But Pride grabbed his arm with unnatural speed and hoisted him up.

Wonderful, as long as those special forces units advance at a leisurely pace and have all the shooting skills of the bad guys in a Bond book we'll all be fine.

The alchemists backed slowly down the corridor until they were either side of Pride.

"You remember how to get out of here boy?"

"Yes Aunt Agatha."

"You follow Martha-"

"Yes Aunt Agatha."

"Well get going then! Chop-chop!"

I am going to die.

-

It was the first time in fifty years Envy had been a passenger in a car. The experience didn't endear them to him. Something about being thrown onto the floor of an already moving vehicle and the subsequent, apparently necessary, speeding through small winding back roads wasn't particularly appealing. There seemed to suddenly be an awful lot of narrow twisting roads through villages and suburbs on the way south. The journey probably didn't last days, but it certainly seemed as though it did with the rather worrying sounds of pursuit behind them doing their best to raise Envy's blood pressure. The Flammel array was the only reason Envy wasn't extremely sick over the floor, and probably the only reason he was quiet.

I am NEVER getting in one of these again…..assuming I live that long.

Eventually the chase died away and the car settled to a more leisurely pace through the south-west countryside.

Probably a field, and those bumps must have been cows or something-I swear these things got suspension fifty years ago…..

And then they stopped.

Oh hell.

Pride lifted him up and pulled him out into the open air. There were a few minutes of peace as he was guided from the drive up the steps and into the house. Long enough for him to notice that he could barely see the other houses in the village except as vague dots of light somewhere far to the left. Then he was hustled inside and propped up on the sofa.

I'm spending my final moments in a tartan armchair; this had better be a hallucination…

One of the alchemists, Agatha, Martha, he couldn't tell the difference, had appeared in front of him and deposited a large black bag on the arm of the chair. She shone a light in his eye.

"Well his pupils are responding normally." She observed. "But he looks as though he was given a tranquiliser."

Absolute friggin genius. Where do they get these identical freaks from? Are they mail order, medical-jargon optional?

Agatha put the torch away and pressed a thumb into Envy's wrist. Her lips moved as she counted his pulse. They really were almost identical, the same height, the same build, the same dark hair and lighter skin, that Dublith tweak in the cheekbones, the thin lips. There were alchemic arrays drawn all over their skin in what looked like orange felt pen.

"He has a pulse," She announced without much confidence. "It's erratic but-what do you want boy?"

Pride gulped and offered Agatha a glass of water. She stared at it for a moment then took it thoughtfully. He suddenly realised exactly how long it had been since he'd last had a drink. Agatha's smile when she noticed his eyes following the glass wasn't quite malicious, but it was certainly close. Carefully by degrees she lifted the glass to the homunculus' lips and tilted it just enough to give him a small spluttering sip.

"Well," Martha snapped "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"You, Are the worst driver I have ever met." Envy whispered hoarsely.

A particularly unusual array on Martha's fingertip glowed ominously. "Do you have a good reason why we shouldn't kill you?"

Envy considered this. "My wit and charming personality?" He suggested hopefully.

"He might be delirious." Agatha said quickly.

"He's hallucinating?"

"No, definitely the worst driver-"

"Not exactly, I'm going to sedate him." She rummaged briefly in her bag and produced a hypodermic and a small bottle. "Now try to stay calm, this won't hurt-"

In Envy's experience those words were usually a good indication that it was time to panic. Usually this would have resulted in a small yet significant bloodbath and general destruction of property in the immediately surrounding area, however in his current circumstances Envy found he had to……downscale somewhat. He flailed wildly for a few minutes, scoring a few blows more by luck then design, then everything faded away.

-

They put him in the spare room with an IV as Agatha seemed to think he was dehydrated even though he wasn't showing any serious symptoms. They took it in turns watching him. For the most part that meant shooing Susie away and telling the boy he'd be more use doing chores then moping in a calm, firm voice. He slept soundly for the most part.

He woke up at nine thirty seven; Martha noted the time and stared at her palms for a moment wondering which array to use. The boy sat up slowly rubbing his head. Martha Hurst reached casually for the old standard issue pistol her father had kept since the second Ishbalan war. Martha was not a fantastic shot, but the pistol was in working order, loaded and he was only a few meters away at most. He rubbed at the scratches on his arms and prodded at the needle.

"Whas 'is?"

"An IV." Martha answered shortly.

What's that in Amestrian?

"I wouldn't try that-"

Envy's legs buckled as he tried to get up, but he didn't collapse into a heap on the floor, which had to be a plus. And it was only a few steps, four at most. Eight steps, there and back. He could make eight steps. He gripped the bed frame, pulled himself up and tottered towards the dresser pulling the IV over behind him.

Martha watched slightly incredulously as the boy staggered to the dresser, leaning heavily on it and staring intently into the mirror. Then there was a flash of alchemic light.

Martha dropped the gun.

The boy had changed, he was taller and slimmer, his hair had become longer, dark and coarse. He looked, effeminate, more symmetric, and slightly unearthly. Or perhaps that was just the effect of having seen his appearance change so suddenly and-how- Even his clothes had changed, to some sort of strange black outfit that in Martha's opinion left far too much flesh exposed. And just like that he was tottering off back towards the bed, typical teenager-

"How did you do that?!" Martha demanded getting to her feet unnecessarily dramatically.

"I dunno." Envy groaned falling into a heap on the bed and fighting briefly with the knotted duvet.

"What are you?!"

"Homunculus." Envy muttered giving up on the duvet and putting his hands over his ears.

"A what?!"

"Can I sleep?" He moaned.

Martha bent to pick up the revolver. Envy groaned; it was going to be a very long day.

"Fine," He shifted so that slightly less of his hair was over his face. "You'd better call my retard brother, this is gonna take a while."

-