Chapter Four:

The trip to the hotel where the agents were staying was uneventful and quiet. Everyone was tired and looking forward to getting a good night's sleep. Edward was especially tired, as he hadn't been sleeping well since he'd gotten Al's body back. It wasn't surprising, considering that his current sleeping arrangement consisted of an uncomfortable hospital chair, but he was also still dealing with his persistent nightmares, like the one he'd had the night before.

Ed was no stranger to the nightmares – he'd been having them since that night – but they'd been getting more frequent and more brutal now that he wasn't constantly on the move. What-ifs and what-could-have-beens had been haunting him once he'd gotten a solid twelve hours of sleep after the Promised Day. He'd made the mistake of mentioning them to Al, during an attempt to comfort his brother after Al had had a nightmare of his own. Al had immediately latched onto that admission and begun interrogating Ed about them. How long had he been having them? How often did they occur in a given week? Had he told anyone about them? Maybe he should talk to the Colonel about them.

Ed had shot him down as soon as Al suggested that. No way in hell was Ed ever going to show the Colonel any sort of weakness. He didn't trust the bastard not to find some way to use his nightmares against him. Instead he'd assured his brother that he was fine. After all, he'd always managed to wake himself up before they got too bad, and he would talk to Winry or Granny about them if they did get to the point where he couldn't deal with them. He knew that Al knew that he was lying through his teeth, but Al knew that his brother's stubbornness would only get in the way, so he'd dropped the subject.

It didn't really matter though, since Edward was pretty sure that the Colonel knew something was up. He wouldn't put it past his brother to tell Mustang sometime when he'd been visiting and Edward had stepped out of the room for another coffee or to walk out the aches and cramps in his muscles from spending so much time curled up in his chair. So far, the Colonel hadn't said anything outside of what Ed would have expected of him. Are you okay, Fullmetal? Maybe you should get more sleep instead of reading all night? After all, you're still growing. There had been a few other short jokes thrown in and Edward had snarled back a few choice words, but he knew something was different.

From past precedent, Edward knew that the Colonel only ever asked if he was okay when it was so unbelievably obvious that he wasn't. Like the time he'd come back from a mission with four broken ribs and a deep gash on his left arm that had gotten infected. Or the time when he'd gotten a nasty concussion on top of some minor internal bleeding which had caused him to collapse unconscious in the Colonel's office. So he'd figured that either he really looked like shit (again, thanks to the uncomfortable as hell chair in Al's hospital room) or Al had said something on the sly.

At the moment, however, despite his exhaustion, he was fighting the urge to sleep because there was no way in this dimension or any other that he was going to fall asleep in front of strangers and risk the possibility of a nightmare. His struggle to stay awake must have been more noticeable than he realized, however, since Agent Jareau turned around after a few minutes and mentioned that it wouldn't be long until they got to the hotel.

"Thank you, Agent Jareau," he replied with a half-smile before turning his gaze out the window and taking in the incredible sights of this world, with its huge buildings and bright lights every few feet. There was so much light in fact that he couldn't even begin to imagine how anyone who lived in this city managed to get any sleep at all. And all the signs advertised products or people in a way that just seemed strange. What was the point of having a man wearing nothing but his underwear displayed fifty feet high on the side of a building? Or a picture of six different colored vertical bars with a white apple attached to some sort of scaffolding? With his attention on all the signs and different types of vehicles sharing the road with them, he was oblivious to the slightly concerned look Mustang was giving him.

Although Edward might only have suspicions and no proof, Al had in fact told the Colonel about his brother's sleeping problems. Mustang had been concerned about what Al had told him, but he had told Al point blank that there wasn't anything he could do about it until Edward came to him. When Al had protested, saying that surely Mustang could order Ed to tell him about his nightmares, Mustang had pointed out that he couldn't help Ed until Ed wanted help. Roy wasn't unfamiliar with the gripping terror and weakness that nightmares could cause – he'd experienced that sensation himself plenty of times since Ishval, and again recently when he thought about the Promised Day and his own experience with human transmutation.

"But why can't you do anything?" Al asked. "Brother won't let me help – he's too convinced that he has to protect me, even though I know all about them, since I've lived through everything that he has."

"Of course he is, Alphonse," Roy replied. "He's your big brother – it's his job to protect you because that's what big brothers are for. You're right that I could order him to tell me – nightmares like you're talking about could render him unfit for active duty, but what would forcing him to tell me really accomplish? He's not on active duty right now while he's taking care of you, so it's not a matter of critical importance that could affect the outcome of one of his missions. All it would do is cause more bad blood between the two of us and destroy the fragile friendship we've started to build since the Promised Day. Even worse, if I confront him about it, he'll know that you're the one who told me, and that could cause an issue between the two of you."

Al sighed. "I guess you're right Colonel. I'm just tired of watching Brother suffer and seeing his stubbornness prevent him from asking for help."

Roy smiled sympathetically. "Sometimes being the younger brother means knowing when to be the silent support and sometimes it means knowing when to put your foot down and overrule your brother for his own health and safety. Right now Fullmetal's health and safety aren't in any danger, so…"

Al had conceded the point after that, since they both knew that Ed's legendary stubbornness only lasted so long before he eventually gave in and asked for help. Mustang just hoped that, in the wake of the Promised Day and dealing with Pride that Ed would realize that being stubborn for the sake of preserving his own pride wasn't always worth it. In this case, it would just be a matter of waiting Ed out.

Both alchemists were pulled abruptly from their thoughts when the car stopped. Exiting the vehicle, they lingered beside it while they waited for the second car full of agents to park and discharge its occupants, which it did a moment later. While they were waiting for the agents to get their go-bags out of the rear compartments of the cars, Edward suddenly stiffened.

He took a step away from the others and started scanning the area around them, searching for whatever made his internal warning bells go off. His behavior was not lost on Mustang or the agents. A nervous tension fell over the whole group before Mustang broke the silence, approaching Edward cautiously and reaching out to place his hand on the teen's left shoulder. "Fullmetal? What's wrong?"

"Someone's watching us," he hissed back, his golden eyes still scanning the parking lot and paying particular attention to the areas that were shrouded in shadow and away from the casual view of someone who happened to be walking through the lot. Then, suddenly -

"GET DOWN!" he yelled, instantaneously clapping his hands together and slamming them down onto the ground. Walls rose around the small group, startling the agents, who instinctively pulled their weapons out. Mustang, far more used to the sight of Edward's protective barriers forming in front of his face readied himself to snap, but remained far more relaxed than the BAU team.

Edward's reaction came not a moment too soon, as something crashed into the wall just ahead of them, causing deep, wide cracks to appear directly in front of where Ed was still crouched. Edward clapped again, turning his arm into his signature blade before signaling for absolute quiet. Everyone practically held their breaths while Ed cocked his head, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. He didn't want to revert the wall until he was certain that there was no one waiting beyond it, ready to attack the second it was down and the group was vulnerable. His left hand was splayed wide on the ground to try to pick up any vibrations around them, but since there was a lot of traffic on the nearby street, neither trick proved to be helpful.

Sighing he stood up and clapped his hands twice, once to change his arm back to normal and the second time to revert the wall back into the ground and repair the parking lot. The agents raised their guns and quickly separated to sweep the area for their attacker. JJ and Reid stayed behind with the two alchemists, and neither failed to notice the way that both Ed and Mustang were still on high alert, their eyes tracking the movements of the rest of the BAU team. Once they'd cleared the immediate area and regrouped at the vehicles, Morgan turned to Edward.

"What the hell just happened, and how in the hell did you change your arm into a sword?" he demanded, suspicion and ire clouding his voice.

Edward bristled at the tone of Morgan's voice. He did not like being questioned about decisions that he made when on a battlefield or a potential battlefield. "I just saved all our asses, that's what just happened, and my arm is none of your damn business."

Mustang and Rossi both noticed the tension in Edward's stance, but it was Rossi who interjected first, in an effort to diffuse the situation. "I think what Morgan was trying to ask was how you knew we were in danger."

Edward didn't completely relax, but some of the tension did ebb out of his body. He let out a tired sigh as he replied, "I knew that someone was watching us because I could feel it. I've had issues in the past back home with a group stalking me, so I've kind of developed a sixth sense to being watched from a distance. And I knew we were about to be attacked because I could feel the alchemic energy being released. When we passed through the Gate to get here, I made sure I got some knowledge out of it along the way. I guess that was some of what I picked up."

The agents didn't seem to know how to respond to that statement, and Edward was pleased to notice that even Mustang seemed a little stunned. His commanding officer was staring at him as if he didn't know what to think about what Edward had just admitted to.

"Wait, you picked up more knowledge from the Gate? I didn't get anything."

Edward grinned at the semi-jealous tone in Mustang's voice. "Yeah, well maybe Truth likes me more," he taunted, before his expression sobered and his eyes turned haunted again. "I've been through the Gate more than anyone, and I've learned how to absorb as much knowledge during each pass as I can. Truth owes me that much at least."

Mustang couldn't argue with that reasoning. Not counting this most recent time to get to this dimension, he'd only been through once, and that time he'd been forced to. He'd gained knowledge - like the ability to transmute by clapping that Edward, Alphonse, and their teacher all shared - but he was still far behind the Elrics.

"That still doesn't explain how you knew it was an alchemist that was watching us. How'd you know it simply wasn't someone who was just curious?" Hotch asked.

Edward fidgeted a little in response. "I could sense his alchemy, or rather, his alchemic energy. And yes, before you ask, Mustang, something was different. I think Harding must have gained knowledge from the Gate too. The alchemy he used certainly wasn't his normal alchemy."

Mustang frowned at the sight of Edward fidgeting as well as the slightly hesitant tone in his voice when he spoke. He wasn't used to Edward being anything less than confident when it came to alchemy, and made a note to question his subordinate more closely about it later, when they didn't have an audience and Edward wouldn't have to censor his explanations for the uninitiated.

"What do you mean? He has different alchemy now?" Hotch continued questioning the teen, with a little bit of disbelief and skepticism in his voice.

Edward shrugged. "Yes and no. Most alchemists have one element or type of alchemy that they excel at - a specialty of sorts. For state alchemists, that's even truer than it is for regular alchemists. That specialty is usually indicated by our alchemic titles, which I think I mentioned earlier. I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist because I specialize in working with stone, metal, and ores. Mustang is the Flame Alchemist - his specialty is fire-based alchemy, or anything to do with fire and combustion, including working with gasses and other chemical vapors. Another alchemist that we know and work with from time to time is Major Armstrong - he's known as the Strong Arm Alchemist, since he uses his alchemy to enhance his already impressive physical strength. Harding was the Boiling Alchemist - he specializes in raising the temperature of any liquid and being able to manipulate it."

He paused to take a breath. "There's nothing to stop any alchemist from learning any array they want, but once most alchemists find their niche, they're usually not inclined to explore any further, which is ironic since most alchemists consider themselves seekers of truth and questors for knowledge. In this case, based on what happened to the wall I transmuted - with the cracks and such, that is - that leads me to believe that he's doing something different because he was too far away from us to directly utilize his strongest skill. Somehow, he has more arrays at his disposal and since this world doesn't seem to practice alchemy and there was no recorded evidence of him ever actively practicing other forms of alchemy in the military file Mustang gave me about him, I have to conclude that he picked up something new when he passed through the Gate."

He pointed towards an alleyway across the street and slightly to their left which was dark due to a broken streetlight at its mouth. "If we head over there, I could tell you what array he used."

Hotch nodded and indicated that Ed should lead the way. The traffic had slowed enough that they were able to cross the street in safety, although Morgan and Prentiss did hold up their badges to oncoming traffic until the whole group was safely across. Edward and Mustang were already scouting the alley and it only took them a few seconds to locate the array.

Edward scoffed and quickly scuffed the toe of his boot through the circular array to break it. "Cowardly bastard. He used his array and then ran as soon as he realized his attack didn't hit. He didn't even stay long enough to destroy the array or hide the evidence."

Mustang shook his head. "It's a simple earth array. He probably used it to form a large rock to throw at us." They all looked across the street and saw that from where they were standing they had a perfect view of where they had been standing next to the cars. With the darkness provided by the broken light, it would have been easy to go unnoticed if it hadn't been for Edward.

"And what about your arm, kid? Where'd the sword come from?" Morgan asked again.

Edward hesitated in his response again, before he sighed with genuine reluctance, and Mustang knew why. Even though automail was well-known in Amestris and becoming more and more common each year, there were still some stigmas and prejudice against those who had it. Given that this world didn't seem to have automail at all, the potential for an unfavorable reaction from the agents was high.

But to Edward's credit, once he made up his mind to do something, he didn't hesitate. He pulled his glove off of his right hand and held it up for Morgan to see. The shiny metal gleamed even in the low light of the alley and he saw all of the agents' stunned looks as they took in the sight.

"Is that automail?" Reid asked, making the connection to their earlier conversation a lot faster than Mustang would have expected.

Edward nodded. "I lost my right arm and about three quarters of my left leg in an alchemic accident when I was eleven. The transmutation I was trying to perform rebounded on me and I would have died had Alphonse not been able to get me to Granny and Winry before I bled to death." Mustang noted that the teen didn't go into the details of the accident or how Al was able to get his older brother to help. "After my wounds had been given a few weeks to heal, they gave me automail so that I would be able to walk and use both of my hands again. I couldn't have become a state alchemist otherwise."

"How does it move so well?" Reid asked, scientific curiosity coming to the fore. "We have prosthesis here, but it's nowhere near that advanced. It's almost like a real limb!"

Edward looked down at his hand and flexed the fingers into a fist. "It runs on the electrical impulses in my nerves. There's a port installed in my torso where my shoulder joint would normally be. The port is attached to every nerve in my arm that controls movement, and then the arm itself is plugged into the port. Same for my leg, only the port there is installed in my thigh." He reached down with his left arm and rapped on the metal of his left leg where it met with the remaining flesh. "Essentially, my automail is my real arm and leg, except that they're made of metal and I can't feel anything that I touch with it."

"It's amazing," Reid said, admiringly. "I can't imagine how much better life would be for people here if we had this sort of technology."

Edward shrugged and quickly pulled his glove back on, hiding the metal hand from view once again. "There are probably as many downsides to automail as there are benefits, so it's not as fantastic as it seems. I'm just lucky that I have the best mechanic in Amestris, so I don't have to worry as much about the downsides."

"What sorts of downsides?" Rossi asked, curiously, but kindly.

"I already mentioned that I can't feel anything I touch with it, and if you were to touch my automail, I wouldn't know it unless I saw your hand on my arm. I have to rely on my sight, the rest of my body's muscle memory, and long practice to be able to use it with the fluidity that I do. There are some automailers who don't ever regain the level of control I have, because they aren't willing or able to put in the work during the recovery and therapy period after the surgery."

He rubbed his shoulder in an absentminded gesture. "I also have to be very careful in extreme temperatures. Because the metal is literally attached to my skin, it's much easier for me to get frostbite or burns if I'm not careful. If you have automail, you also are required to have a reliable, trustworthy mechanic, since it requires periodic maintenance to continue functioning in peak condition. Depending on where you get it and who originally installed it, that could mean travelling quite far. Mechanics tend to be very protective of their work and don't like other mechanics to work on their creations. After all, every mechanic has their own style, and if you went to a mechanic who wasn't familiar with their work, they could damage the limb severely. It's also extremely expensive to purchase and maintain – there aren't many people in Amestris who can afford it."

"Are those the only downsides?" Reid wondered. "I mean, they seem bad in their own way, but a lot of that applies to other sorts of medical treatments and advancements too."

"The worst part is probably the surgery and installation itself," Edward admitted. "It's excruciatingly painful and you have to be fully awake and aware for it. Painkillers can't be used, because the port is being attached to each of your nerves, and if painkillers were used, it's possible that something could be attached incorrectly which can cause lingering pain or cause the limb to malfunction. If you break your limb or grow out of it, your mechanic will have to make and attach a new one. Every time the limb is removed and then reattached, the nerves have to reconnect, and that hurts just as much as the initial surgery."

Ed's explanation was given in the same tone he would have used if he was explaining how to make a sandwich. He concentrated his attention on adjusting his glove just so. Mustang noticed that his subordinate made a point of not making eye contact with the six agents, so he missed the expressions of horror and sympathy that crossed their faces as they realized that Edward had gone through extremely painful surgery on two limbs when he was only eleven.

"Another danger is the wrench to your head whenever Miss Rockbell sees her precious automail in pieces after you've broken it yet again, eh Fullmetal?" he added, deciding to try to lighten the mood and distract the agents away from pitying the teen. Edward despised being pitied or viewed as weak above everything else, even short jokes. He reached out and ruffled the golden hair, which earned him a venomous glare as Edward smacked his hand away.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you reckon, old man. And besides, I haven't ruined this set in nearly three months!"

Mustang snorted. "That's a record considering I used to have to send you back to Resembool nearly twice a year for Miss Rockbell to replace or repair your broken limbs."

"It wasn't my fault that you sent me after people who decided they'd rather fight than surrender, even when they were clearly outmatched. Or when Scar was running around trying to pick off state alchemists and always went after my automail first," Edward snarled in response.

"Maybe if you didn't pick those fights, Fullmetal."

"Hey, I barely started any of those fights!"

Morgan cleared his throat. "Okay, well that explains your arm and leg, but it doesn't explain how you made a sword appear out of nowhere."

Edward looked back up at the agents. "My forearm has a pretty heavy steel plate on it to protect the delicate wiring and cables that lead to my hand and fingers, but it can be removed for maintenance. All I did was use alchemy to reshape that plate and extend it out into the rough shape of a sword, and then change it back once we were safe."

"Why a sword?" Prentiss asked curiously.

Edward shrugged. "Why not? My arm literally becomes my weapon if I'm forced into hand-to-hand combat, and the shape I transmute it into also allows it to serve as a makeshift shield if I need one. No one can disarm me short of literally destroying my automail, and that's not the easiest thing to do. Plus, my alchemy teacher was an expert in bladed combat and she taught us everything there was to know about making and fighting with blades."

He yawned hugely and blinked twice. He suddenly looked absolutely exhausted, with his eyelids actually starting to droop and swore under his breath before glancing up at Mustang. "Mustang, do me a favor. Do some alchemy."

Mustang raised his eyebrow at the request. "And why am I doing that?"

"Because I'm fucking tired. Way more tired than I should be after using an array as simple as forming a wall and changing my arm." He snapped back. "I want to know if it's just me or if something about our alchemy is different here."

Shrugging, Mustang took a few steps away from the group and raised his arm. It would be easier just to placate Edward than to argue with him. He snapped his fingers sharply and a stream of fire flew from his fingers before harmlessly dispersing further up. He let his hand drop back to his side and noted that he was feeling significantly more tired than he had been a few seconds ago. He turned back to Edward, who must have been able to read the signs on his face somehow and looked triumphant.

"I knew it. It must be because this dimension doesn't use alchemy here. We're relying more on our internal energy than we would if we were back home. We'll have to be careful and make sure we get lots of food and rest to refuel our supply."

"What does that mean?" Prentiss asked. "You won't be able to use your alchemy to help us find Harding now?"

Edward looked at the agents. "No, we can still use alchemy here, obviously, since Mustang and I both just did and Harding's been using his to kill. We'll just have to be careful about how much we use and how often. There is alchemic energy in this world, but it's only about a quarter of what we'd expect to find in Amestris, if I had to guess."

At the six confused looks he received, he sighed. "Alchemists internalize alchemic energy. That's what allows us to activate our arrays when we want to instead of as soon as an array is drawn. However, we have to draw that energy in from somewhere else. Back home, no one can really agree on what actually powers alchemy. Some think it's the energy released by the movement of the tectonic plates, some believe it's the planet's life force, and some think there's a special layer between the planet's crust and mantle that can only be accessed by those who are born with the ability to use alchemy. Whatever the source, it's obviously weaker here. That's likely due to the fact that no one here uses alchemy, but it could also be the reason that alchemy isn't prevalent. If no one here can sense the energy to begin with, there wouldn't be an entire group of people who learn to use that energy."

"So why does using that energy make you so tired?" JJ asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"That's not unique to this world," Ed assured her. "If we used huge amounts of alchemic energy in a short period of time in Amestris we'd still get tired. Here though, the simplest arrays use twice as much energy as they should. We are still drawing in alchemic energy from the outside, but we're doing so much more slowly than we would at home. As long as we're careful and get plenty of food and rest after using alchemy, we should still be able to help. Besides, I've got a few more new tricks up my sleeve that I wanna test out on Harding." His words were punctuated by another yawn. "But right now, the most pressing issue is sleep. I don't know about you lot, but I'm going to fall over soon."

Concern for the golden haired teen spurred the group back into action and they quickly crossed the street back to their vehicles, where they recovered their luggage before heading into the hotel. Ten minutes later, JJ was handing Mustang and Edward each a room key and the group was making their way to their rooms. All of them were on the same hallway, in the same bank of rooms, so they bid each other goodnight once they reached their assigned rooms and retreated for the rest of the night.

Once inside, with the door securely locked behind them, Edward and Roy looked around at their home away from home. There were two single beds, which they both silently thanked Truth for, a small bathroom, a long dresser, and a table with two chairs in one corner. Edward made a beeline for the nearer of the two beds. He kicked off his boots and collapsed face down into the pillow immediately.

Mustang made a face at the thought of all the grime the teen was leaving on the sheets. "Why don't you go for a shower first, Fullmetal?"

Edward opened one eye and glared ineffectively at his commanding officer. "Why? I can go in the morning."

"Going for a shower might make you sleep more comfortably, since you won't be covered in dirt and your own sweat and odors," Mustang pointed out.

Edward frowned and pushed himself upright wearily. He clapped and placed one hand on his shirt and jackets and the other on his black pants. Blue alchemic light flashed and disappeared, leaving Edward looking a lot cleaner. He shed his red coat and black jacket, dropping them onto the floor with his boots, but leaving his black tank top and pants on as he squirmed under the covers. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow for a second time.

Mustang just shook his head. Just fifteen minutes ago, he had been saying they should only use their alchemy when they had no other choice. He moved to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower. Once he emerged, feeling a lot better, he realized he had nothing clean to change into. Grimacing slightly and trying not to think about what he was doing, he put his boxers, pants, and white singlet back on. He rinsed his dress shirt, socks, and jacket in the shower and hung them over the curtain rod to dry overnight.

Edward was still fast asleep when he came out of the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the further bed, drying his hair as he studied the teen. He'd never seen the kid truly asleep, only unconscious the few times he'd checked on him before work in the past when the blond alchemist had been hospitalized. Now though…it was like the weight that Fullmetal carried on his shoulders just vanished, leaving him looking younger and more peaceful than Mustang had ever seen him. Although, the peaceful image was somewhat ruined by the lines of exhaustion etched into Edward's face.

Mustang draped his towel over one of the chairs and got into bed himself, switching off the light as he did. The last thing he thought before he fell asleep was that he hoped Edward didn't suffer from any nightmares tonight. The kid really needed the sleep.

A/N - So here's the fourth revised chapter! Let me know what you guys think to this one!