Intersecting Points

by VIKAN

When Mustang drags Ed into a mission that ultimately lands them in a world consumed by war and people who can bend the elements to their will, they're desperate to leave - but is it possible to do without interfering with a battle of destiny and fate?

6. Escape the Misunderstanding

Chapter 6: Escape the Misunderstanding

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Intersecting Points

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Part II – 1

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Escape the Misunderstanding

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/ "You need to experience to create greatness." /

It was all Fullmetal's fault. That brat.

It was supposed to be a simple mission – one that would have been done within at least an hour so he would be able to get back to the office to attend a mandatory meeting that required his presence. However, that would not be the case, since – as unsurprising as it was – Fullmetal had obviously, in some strange way, botched it up.

It wasn't entirely Fullmetal's fault, Mustang had to admit, since no one could have anticipated Artfield's bold move of activating the strange transmutation circle. It was completely unexpected and hazardous, which was why Mustang's wasn't that amazed that Edward would run directly into it. It was common knowledge how rash that boy was. He held a strong reputation for his recklessness, and Mustang was sure Ed held that title with pride. But his actions were beyond brash this time; because Ed was a prodigy in alchemy, and it was universal knowledge amongst all those who knew what the word alchemy meant that interfering with an activated circle would result in nothing but disaster.

He should have known better. But he didn't. So of course, the Colonel had to take responsibility for his subordinate's insubordination.

Mustang had lunged himself at Ed, prepared to grab him by the back of the collar, shake him furiously while yelling, 'Are you out of your mind!?', arrest Artfield and be on his way back to his office. That's how missions usually played out when he brought Fullmetal along with him.

But it had happened so quickly – Mustang wasn't even aware that he had stepped onto the circle as well, and that just how Ed's body was grotesquely picked apart by small, daunting black hands, his was too. He wasn't even conscious of the situation until he heard a horrifying, shrill scream from his Lieutenant.

"COLONEL – !"

And then a sea of white blinded his vision and he was so sure that his brain was melting because he wasn't even able to process one coherent thought.

He thought it was death – he was positive this was the afterlife.

But it was too bright. Too white.

He was an alchemist and heatedly did not believe in anything religious.

But he did have his moments where he was skeptic of his skepticism.

Mustang knew that 'white' and 'bright' fit the characteristics of Heaven.

Which is why he immediately knew that this wasn't the afterlife - he wasn't dead.

Because a person like him, who massacred hundreds of people with his blood-soaked flames would not be granted into Heaven.

What's happening?

He remembered hearing soft murmuring.

It was disoriented and befuddled and far away.

He couldn't make out a single word.

He thought it was Edward and his mind had cleared at that thought – immediately the concern set his mind on track.

He couldn't remember if he had called out his name.

He couldn't hear anything.

But after a moment, he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Oh? Oh? I've been given a second lamb to eat up. What to do with you?"

That voice was so unsettling; it sank a boulder in his stomach.

The voice couldn't even be identified as human.

The tone was merciless and Mustang wanted to do nothing more than leave.

Leave, leave, leave. Just get out of here and leave.

Get me out of here!

"You fool. You're in my domain. Alchemists have no say here – your voice can never be acknowledged. I am the authority here, I am absolute here, I am God here."

The ripples from the echoes of its voice nauseated him, causing his mind to swirl.

He couldn't concentrate anymore and he knew he lost the struggle to keep his consciousness aware.

Laughter – cackling, hideous, inhumane laughter – swallowed up his hearing.

Where was he – what the hell is this?

"You're so amusing, I'm itching to pick you apart. But the fee was paid, and you were spared – what luck you have. Let's see if you're lucky enough to make it back, Mr. Al-che-mist."

Then he blinked, and the white was gone, replaced by a colossal of blue, and his body crashed to the ground, taking his breath away. The strange, blank place he was in only a few moments ago was no more, only a fleeting memory that Mustang had trouble distinguishing from a dream.

Now he lay on his back, staring at the sky, wondering just what the hell happened. His back ached with pain, and he hoped he didn't permanently damage it in any way. The back of his head throbbed along with his heartbeat.

He groaned softly as he tried to get up, his head disoriented from the run of the events with addition to the pain of his fall. Mustang paused during this process.

Wait.

Why was he outside when he was inside Artfield's apartment only a few minutes ago? How was that possible?

He quickly turned his around, "Lieutenant?"

No response.

Nobody was around him but rubble and stone. He tried again, "Lieutenant? Hawkeye?" Nobody responded and Mustang's brow creased. The Lieutenant was always supposed to be by his side. She was with him in that dim room in Artfield's apartment – he was sure of it.

He cradled his head in his hands, trying to stop it from spinning. What the hell was happening? He pulled his hand away when it became moist – blood. Shit. How hard did he hit his head on that fall?

"Hey! There's another one!"

Mustang looked to where the voices were coming. Two men dressed in red with strange helmets ran to him, their fists extended. Roy wanted to say something to them, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, the only thing that would come out would be vomit.

"Scum," Mustang heard one of them sneer. One of them kicked him on his side with their solid boot, making stars explode in his eyes. Whatever they were saying after that was blocked out by the screeching white pain.

"Pathetic – can't even –"

"– Up – I said get up."

Strong hands gripped his arms and hauled him from the ground and onto his unbalanced legs. Instinct told him not be taken that easily, and he struggled under their grips, but to no avail. They laughed at his struggle, he could hear, but it was a mutated kind of laugh. He was sure his mind was playing tricks on him. He definitely landed too hard and gave himself a small concussion.

Wait.

Landed?

Why was he falling in the first place?

"Look at him, struggling," One of the men laughed. "If you're so afraid of being taken in, you shouldn't have fought with the Fire Nation in the first place!"

The other one laughed along with him, and Mustang could feel the man shake with every annoying, wheezing laugh. "This is what happens when you underestimate us!"

"As if you lot could take us out with a measly eclipse. Please."

"You Water Tribe peasants sure bit off more than you could chew! Ha!"

Each syllable that bounced out of their fat mouths strung an ache in Roy's head. He didn't know what the hell they were talking about – he just wanted them to shut up. He swallowed and tried to talk. "Not . . . water."

"What'dya say?"

Mustang growled at the patronizing tone. Didn't these bastards know who they were talking to? "Flame Alchemist … not water."

"What the hell is he blabbering about?" One asked the other, as if the other one would know the answer.

"Colonel .. Mustang," Roy tried to clarify, but the words jumbled in his mouth, coming out in a mess. He hoped he said enough and these two brutes would understand what he was trying to say. If they knew who they were manhandling so roughly and disrespectfully, surely they would listen to what he had to say.

"You heard that?"

"Mhm, yeah."

Mustang smirked. Excellent. Now they could take him to the hospital so he could stop feeling so shitty and find out exactly what happened.

"A Colonel, huh? I didn't know you guys gave ranks for that pitiful excuse of an army of yours."

"Still, that's a pretty high rank," the other murmured.

"You know what that means?" The other said, and Mustang could just hear the smirk in his voice.

"First class tickets to the Boiling Rock, coming right up!"

---

Mustang had blacked out, which was very fortunate for him. If he got some rest, maybe then his mind would work more effectively and he would be able to think clearly.

When he awoke, black spots roamed his vision for only a moment. They vanished and he saw gray.

He was sitting on something cold and his head was leaning against something even colder. He sucked in a breath and sat up straight, looking around. It was like a large, steel room with very few windows, something he'd never seen before.

He wasn't alone, too. People sat across from him, hands cuffed and faces sunken. Mustang blinked and looked at his lap where his hands rested – hand-cuffed.

Oh.

That would explain those two stiff looking men that stood beside the only door in the room – cart? It felt like it was moving. They wore the same helmets as the people who took him in, as well as the same dark, red garments. They must be guards and he must be … a prisoner?

But that's impossible. Roy Mustang had never committed a crime in his life. Whatever he was being imprisoned for, he was absolutely sure he was innocent. Why was he being imprisoned?

He perked his head to look out the window and his eyes widened. He was up – in the air. He turned from the window and blinked rapidly. He looked out the window again and – yup, he wasn't hallucinating. He was really up in the air – moving.

Calm down, he chided himself. Think – focus. First thing's first: Find out where you are.

Mustang, once again, looked out the window to view his surroundings and tried to block his new emerging fear of heights. It looked like he was on top of a lake – or ocean? It was hard to tell, the windows were covered in thick fog that moistened the glass.

But it did rule out one scenario – he was obviously not taken prisoner in Drachma like he initially thought. Drachma was a horrid wasteland of snow and frost, and this was anything but.

He tried the easier way of finding an answer. "Excuse me," he asked, nudging the man next to him with his elbow. The large, bald man stared down at him with bear eyes and Roy began reconsidering his approach. "Ah … where are we going?"

A grunt. "Boiling Rock, obviously."

"And where exactly is that?"

A more annoyed grunt, and this time the man looked away. "Fire Nation."

"And where is that?"

"Where do you think?" The man hissed. "Quit bothering me."

Roy blinked and frowned. His question wasn't entirely answered – he still didn't have an idea on where he was. Fire Nation didn't ring a bell in his mind, and it definitely wasn't a city or town in Amestris. Perhaps he was in a different country … but how did he manage that?

He hung is head in exasperation. The confusion of not knowing what was going on hurt his head more than the headache. He inhaled deeply and tried to retrace his footsteps. That should help him sort everything out.

The last reliable thing he recalled was cornering Artfield in his apartment. That took place in Amestris, obviously. Then Artfield began spitting insanity and activated a large transmutation circle, which Fullmetal ran into and Mustang afterward.

So the only logical explanation was that the transmutation circle was the cause of all this. It made sense, in a way that Mustang was still trying to figure out. Fullmetal did say the circle had elements of human transmutation, and Artfield was sputtering nonsense about leaving, if his memory served him correctly.

So then it most definitely was the transmutation circle's fault.

Mustang decided to go with that explanation.

But then it brought up another question – where the hell was Fullmetal? Roy couldn't help but groan out loud and bang the back of his head against the steel wall he was leaning on.

Edward was swallowed up by the circle just like he was, so why wasn't he here?

"You okay, buddy?" The man across from him asked with an amused smile. "You look a little lost there."

"Having trouble remembering things is all." Mustang muttered bitterly. What a wonderful understatement that was.

"I thought as much." Mustang shot him a dirty look and the man laughed, clarifying. "You've been sleeping the whole ride, I figured you must have hit your head or something."

"You could say that."

A pause. "So you don't remember anything, huh? That sucks."

Mustang could tell that this man was trying to start up a conversation, and the Colonel decided to entertain him, but only for his benefit. This premise could come into use. "I wouldn't say anything – just that I don't really remember how I ended up here … wherever here is."

"I feel bad for you, then. To wake up, out of all places, here. I heard the Boiling Rock is one hell of a prison"

"Prison?" Mustang asked.

The man lifted his chained hands with a grin that rarely sported a hand-cuffed man's face. "We're prisoners – off to prison."

"Prison? But I didn't do anything..."

"You sure about that? Maybe you don't remember since you hit your head and all, but the Boiling Rock is Fire Nation's highest security prison meant for only the most dangerous criminals. You have to be really bad to get in." He made it sound like it was a priveledge to be sent off here, and Mustang suddenly grew doubtful of this man.

"What'd you do?" He tried to make the question casual, but it came out much blunter than he intended. The man didn't seem to mind.

"Can't you tell? I'm from the Water Tribe." His grin shone with pride when he gestured to his blue garments but it slid off his face at Mustang's unimpressed, blank face. "I was the leader of the invasion force during the eclipse." The Colonel simply raised a brow as a response. "Wow, you really don't remember, huh?"

The moving room came to an abrupt stop. "On your feet!" One of the soldiers commanded loudly and all the prisoners stood up as they were let out.

"Hey, listen, try to find me if they let us out for food or something. My name's Hakoda." The man whispered as they walked.

Mustang nodded and replied in a lower whisper. "Roy Mustang."

"What did you say? Rusting?"

Roy scowled. "Mustang."

"Muscling?"

"Quiet over there!" The guard shouted, obviously talking to them.

"Just call me Roy!" Mustang hissed sharply.

"Got it, Roy." Hakoda grinned.

"Walk." The guard said gruffly, shoving Mustang to the other side, away from Hakoda. His scowl never left his face, even when the warden was talking. "...Muscling." He muttered bitterly.

---

His cell was that of any ordinary cell – dank, small, and foul.

It was warmer than he expected, but that was mostly due to the prison being located on top of a steaming volcano. He learned about his new home when he was introduced to the warden of the facility – automatic detest of the warden ensued when the man began talking. There was something about that slimy person that Mustang just couldn't stand.

Another thing he couldn't stand was the fact that he was forced to give up everything he had on him the moment he stepped out of the gondola. They had him stripped of his military attire and replaced it with red rags for clothes – it was humiliating.

However, what further infuriated Mustang was the fact that inside his uniform's pockets were his gloves. They made him give up his only weapon. As much as he hated to admit it, he was useless without his gloves.

It was at that moment – when his feet were touching the moist floor of his cell, when the commotion of the rowdy prisoners was loud in his ears, when the door to his cell creaked to an obnoxious close – that he made the decision to escape.

Roy Mustang did not belong behind bars.

He sat on his stiff excuse for a bed, propped his elbows atop his knees and folded his fingers underneath his chin, devising his plan. It would be a lengthy plan that would take some time, but he knew he could formulate it successfully. It was actually performing it that would prove itself pestering.

There would be three parts to this plan, Mustang decided. Gather information, retrieve his belongings, and escape, which must all be played out in that order and must be absolutely inconspicuous. He then decided that the longest amount of time he would spend in this place would be three days. Anything longer would be unacceptable.

With that settled, Mustang stood up, stretched, walked to the bars of his cells and wrapped his hands around them, examining his surroundings with calculating, sharp eyes.

The plan starts now.

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Step One: Gather Information

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All the guards, Mustang observed, were dressed alike, so it was difficult to distinguish rank between them. Some wore a metal mask over their eyes while others just wore the helmet with their faces bare. Mustang found that increasingly unusual.

While at the military academy, he was instructed to read on other countries' military, including their uniforms. The Drachman army wore black, sometimes accompanied by a black fur hat. Soldier's of Creta wore bulky green uniforms while Aerugo have their soldiers' dressed in bright red, but nothing like these people.

There were four guards standing stiffly for every hall of cells. The one standing across from his cell was a young woman.

Mustang smirked, raised his eyes, straightened his shoulders and pushed his hair back. Havoc always did say it was this look that helped him steal his girlfriends.

He called the woman over, and polity and as sweetly as possible, asked for a cup of water. The woman shifted her eyes and told him to wait until lunch break. He pouted and said something along the lines of but this heat between us is making me ever so parch.

She laughed at his face and asked him if he really thought that would work on her. He replied with no but it was worth hearing your angelic laugh.

Then she blushed and Mustang knew he won.

He talked with her for a few more minutes, her telling him about her life as a guard and him just listening to every word. After a few hours, he asked her to fetch him a map if she had one. She made some comment about how he shouldn't need a map since he would never see the outside world. He replied back with a sappy comment like that's fine as long as I can spend my time here seeing you.

Her blush painted her face and she left and got him a map.

Mustang looked at the map – Southern Air Temple, Fire Nation Capital, Ba Sing Se – and was taken back at the unfamiliar countries and at the map itself. He asked the guard if this was the whole map and she replied smartly with of course it is.

He stared at the map. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed as his eyes glued on the foreign illustrations on the wide paper.

He asked her to show him where he was; the prison. She pointed at the red – Fire Nation. Then she moved her finger to the tiny red islands. "Right here," she said. "In the middle of the ocean."

"I suppose this is the part where you emphasize how inescapable this prison is?"

"Exactly."

A bell sounded and his cell was opened. It was time for lunch. He followed the crowd of prisoners down the stairs and through the halls until they reached the large cafeteria. It was similar to the mess hall at Eastern Command except the atmosphere was much darker.

As he waited on line for his food, his thoughts ran wild. The bizarre image of the map clouded his mind. Even though the guard repeatedly told him that yes this is the actual map – are you seriously asking me that, he still couldn't grasp it.

It was like –

– like a completely different world.

But was that … even possible?

He sat down at the nearest table with his tray and stared at the food without touching. He folded his fingers on top of each other. His brow furrowed.

He pieced together the bits of facts he had.

A transmutation circle brought him here, he was one hundred percent sure of that.

It transported him – moved him from the apartment, from East City to here, yes, that's true, too.

But where? Where did it send him? That was the question that wouldn't leave him.

(He did have an answer, but it was far too outrageous to be plausible.)

Mustang picked at his food with a frown. Could it really be that he was in –

"Roy!" A strong arm wrapped itself around his shoulder, and Mustang spun around quickly, thinking to was Hughes – he always did that to him. However, it wasn't Maes, rather, it the prisoner he met on the gondola earlier.

"Hakoda," Mustang murmured when the man sat beside him with his tray in hand. "I see you've spared my first name from any humiliating mispronunciations."

"How long do you plan to hold that against me?"

"Long."

Hakoda chuckled fondly. He picked apart a small load of bread, examining each piece with a thoughtful frown. "So, you remember anything yet?"

Mustang blinked, confused. Then he remembered the amnesia-story he was playing with. "Nothing that could help me," he answered simply.

"Don't worry, it'll come to you."

"Hm." Mustang took a bite of his bread. Stale. He put it down and tried the mashed potatoes. Watery. He sighed. He definitely needed to get out of here.

He watched Hakoda eat without complaint. Hakoda … what an unusual name. "Ever heard of Amestris?" Mustang asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Amestris, the country."

"In the Fire Nation?"

"No, just Amestris. It's its own nation."

"Can't say I have. I know all the countries and nations in this world so I can assure you that Amestris isn't one of them." He swallowed. "I travel a lot."

Mustang's frown deepened. That didn't confirm anything, he told himself. This guy might be just an idiot, and that guard might have just drawn that map to toy with him.

"What's wrong?" Hakoda asked, noticing Mustang's displeased expression.

He didn't answer. Mustang got up and moved to throw out his food. He wasn't hungry anymore. Frustration replaced it.

He noticed a loud commotion to his right and turned. A small crowd was gathering around a prisoner and a guard. Mustang made his way in to see more of it. The prisoner was shouting at the guard about something Mustang didn't catch. His face was red with anger, Roy noticed, and the man grabbed a tray and flung it at the guard's face.

Mustang snorted. The guard fell back and clenched his fist. Then he waved his arm and a line of fire burst from his hand and struck the prisoner.

Mustang's heart leaped.

He pushed himself through the crowd aggressively and stared at the guard. No gloves. He wasn't wearing any gloves. His worries of perhaps the guard stealing his gloves diminished. However, a new worry grew when he noticed no transmutation circle visible anywhere. Worry grew into horror when he remembered it was flames – nobody should be able to use flame alchemy except he and Master Hawkeye!

But there was no visible circle – how in the world was he using alchemy without a circle – without clapping – without any evidence of an actual transmutation taking place!

"Ooh, this guy's definitely getting the cooler." Mustang turned around to see Hakoda next to him. He must have followed him.

"How is he doing that?" Mustang asked.

"Hm? Doing what?"

"That! The flame alchemy! How is he doing that without a circle?" His voice was urgent and demanding.

Hakoda shifted uneasily at the tone, "Alchemy? What are you saying? That's just firebending."

"Firebending?"

Hakoda chuckled and slapped his hand on his forehead like he just forgot something, "Oh right, your memory is all haywire."

"Tell me what it is," he said. "Tell me everything."

---

Mustang lay on his concrete-like bed and stared at the ceiling. His body was exhausted and his brain was beyond that point.

Organizing all the new information in his head that he gained from Hakoda was sending him splitting headaches.

He just wanted to sleep.

At least he finally understood why he was being held in containment, even if the matter wasn't all that comforting.

Apparently, the soldiers who had taken him in had mistaken him for a Water Tribe soldier due to the color of his clothes. Also, his timing when he arrived here wasn't helpful either, since he came the moment the Eclipse invasion had ended and Fire Nation soldiers were scouting the area for war-prisoners, which they assumed he was.

War – this place he was in was at war.

Mustang had hoped that it would be years until he would have to experience another war.

Fire Nation – Water Tribe – Earth Kingdom.

When Hakoda was explaining how that one guard was able to shoot fire – it was called bending, not alchemy, and each person can either bend one of the four elements, he learned – he began trailing off and began talking about the war between the Fire Nation and every other nation.

But it wasn't war; it was cruel imperialism, it was genocide, it was mad.

A whole race of people have been eliminated by the nation he was a prisoner of, and Hakoda's people were slowly meeting the same fate. The condition of this world was definitely much worse than his own.

Yes, world.

As much as his rationality told him it was illogical and preposterous, he was slowly reeling in on the possibility that he might just be in a whole different world. The facts were fitting in perfectly and the image that the puzzle was forming was that of a new world.

Artfield babbled about "leaving this world" – Mustang was pulled into an unknown circle – the people in this place never heard of alchemy – they had a strange ability that Mustang had never seen before – the map was completely different and foreign and he had never heard of any of the places.

– It all made sense.

Roy closed his eyes. He had two hours left before the bell sounded to let him out again. Some rest should ease his mind, if only for a moment. He readjusted himself on the stiff bed and drifted off. Unconsciousness swept him off his feet and Mustang dreamt of white.

---

He woke up with a start, eyes wide and body upright, cold sweat drenching his body and labored breathing taking him over. The bell was ringing with the rhythm of his panting and his heart raced on like a freight train. He put a hand to his face as he controlled himself.

White – that white room.

It plagued his dreams like a hungry vulture.

How could he forget about that horrifying white room?

How could he forget about Fullmetal?

That white room – there was another presence there, a voice. A sickening voice.

"But the fee was payed, and you were spared – what luck you have. Let's see if you're lucky enough to make it back, Mr. Al-che-mist."

Fee, Fee.

Could it mean something similar to when the Elric brothers lost their bodies? Edward did once mention that he paid for Al's soul with his arm. It could be just a figure of speech. However, the boys did each lose something for the end result – even if it wasn't really what they wanted in the end … But what fee was paid for this transmutation?

Mustang had all his limbs last time he checked. All organs intact. Body was still present. So what was taken? What was the fee?

A lump evolved in his stomach when he theorized that perhaps something was taken not from him but rather from Edward.

The voice said something about Mustang being a "second lamb to eat up". So who was the first? Was it Fullmetal – or was it Artfield?

Merciless thoughts led him to hope that the answer was the latter. Edward had enough taken from him. This was just too excessive. If it was that – if Artfield was the one taken rather than Ed – then Edward should be here with him. But he wasn't.

When Mustang landed in this world, no other person was around him. Not a single soul was present until those soldiers that took him came. So where was he? Where was Fullmetal?

"Time for dinner," his guard told him tonelessly.

Mustang rose and left his cell without a word. His eyes were conflicting. He was drowning in thought.

He just wanted to sleep.

He made it to the cafeteria easily this time, without needing to follow the other inmates. He'd memorized the way. He looked around him at the other halls to see where it led. It was like an ant colony. They were ants compared to the Fire Nation people, apparently.

Hakoda found him again when he sat down at the table with his tray of odd food. Mustang was silent as Hakoda talked. The man talked about the battles he fought, the places he traveled and the people he'd met – and lost.

An admiration grew the more Hakoda talked. Maybe because he was a fellow soldier and shared the same horrors as Mustang only in a different parallel, or maybe because he was an honest man – either way, Mustang respected him.

He listened to Hakoda as the topic grew personal; how he lost his wife to the Fire Nation and how his children have involved themselves in the war. When he talked about his two kids, his face lit with fatherly pride. He talked about how his children were traveling with the Avatar (who Mustang learned was as invaluable asset in this war) and how they were feverishly fighting to end the war.

Mustang wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the fact that children were the ones involved in fighting in such a brutal war, but complaining would only make him into a hypocrite.

"Do you have kids?" Hakoda asked casually.

"No. Don't have time."

Hakoda frowned sympathetically. "You're missing out. Children are such a joy to have. They're the light of my life."

Mustang snorted. "I can't even handle one that's not my own, can you imagine what sort of hell I'll be in if I did have one?" He shook his head. "My life is hectic enough."

"I feel bad for you." Hakoda sighed remorsefully. "I don't think I've ever been happier when I'm with my two kids."

"No time," Mustang murmured, taking a sip from his water. "I don't have time for trivial things."

"Trivial?" Hakoda's expression became offended. "What can be so important that raising a family would be seen as trivial compared to it?"

"I'm a busy man, Hakoda, and my work consumes almost all of my time. I have a goal that must be reached and setbacks can't be afforded." He said lowly. If anything, this situation he was in right now was a major setback.

"Job?"

"Military," Mustang said, but he swallowed his tongue at his slip.

"You're in the military? So you fought with us – wait, are you from the Water Tribe? I've never seen you before, though." Hakoda frowned.

"I'm … not from here," he said.

"What do you mean? You're form the Earth Kingdom, then? You can't be from the Air Temple though ... maybe Fire Nation...?" He asked tentatively, cautiously.

"It's a little more complicated than that" Mustang coughed.

Hakoda must have noticed his sudden resignation and grew confused. He pursued further when Mustang broke eye contact. "Wait ... if you know your job, then does that mean you regained your memories?"

Mustang turned to look at him and cringed. Finally, he answered, "...yes."

"That's great!" Hakoda beamed. "So now you remembered why you're in prison? Actually ... that's not really great, I guess."

"Listen, Hakoda," Mustang began, setting his cup down softly. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to be alone right now. I need to think in silence for a few moments."

Hakoda looked hurt by that, probably thinking that he did something to offend Mustang, but ultimately stood up and left Roy alone just like he'd asked. Mustang stayed where he sat with his chin resting atop his intertwined hands.

He watched the people pass by like an old man observing ducks by a pond. He watched as the Fire Nation guards mistreated the prisoners and watched the prisoners send furious expressions at the guards. He observed how the fire left the guards' hands and legs when they punched and kicked.

He watched when one brave earthbender attacked a guard and ultimately failed. He watched as Hakoda stood on the other side of the cafeteria, casually glancing at Mustang with concerned eyes.

The guards opened the doors that led to outside and the prisoners were sent out for fresh air. Mustang followed. Suffocating heat splashed his face the moment he stepped out.

The gloomy expressions of the prisoners didn't change, even with this small portion of freedom.

Mustang found Hakoda in the crowd and pulled him aside saying, "I don't belong here."

"Well, we all don't belong here," Hakoda replied. "But the Fire Nation doesn't care. They'll imprison anyone who isn't one of their own."

"No, you don't understand," Mustang hissed. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A prisoner accidently bumped shoulders with him, but Mustang ignored him. He stared into Hakoda's eyes intently.

"I'm breaking out." He finally said.

Hakoda cocked his head. "You mean like acne?"

"No, you idiot! Out of prison."

"Oh," Hakoda hummed. "Wait – what!?

Roy shook his head in exasperation and explained, "I can't stay here much longer. I have more important things to do – and I know you do, too."

"What you're saying – it's not possible." Hakoda said. "You do know this prison is inescapable, right?"

"Not after I escape."

Hakoda sighed, running a hand through his hair. "How do you plan to do that? Do you have a plan?"

"We're leaving tomorrow evening. Find me during breakfast and we'll talk about it."

"Leaving as in ...?"

"Prison."

"Ah." He paused. He scratched his head uncertainty. "Do you really think we can escape?"

"Yes." Mustang scowled. "I don't know why you're hesitating. Would you rather come with me or stay here?"

"Hm. When you put it that way..."

A hand clamped aggressively on Mustang's shoulder and spun him around. Mustang almost tripped on his own feet at the suddenness. He came face to face with a guard and a prisoner who was pointing a steady finger at Mustang.

"That's him – he and the other guy were talking about breaking out!" The man declared.

Roy mentally cursed. Dammit, he was too careless. He should have known that there were hundreds of ears here, and there were bound to be rats as well, especially in a prison.

"Whoa, hang on, take it easy..." Hakoda said, raising his hands up defensively. "This is all just a big misunderstanding."

"No, it's not!" The other prisoner shouted. The guard turned to him. "I heard you! You guys were planning to break out! I heard you!"

"And I'm telling you, you misheard," Hakoda said, a little more sternly. The guard turned to him now. Hakoda continued, his voice casual. "He's obviously just making this up, sir. I mean, it's two against one here. Unless you have another person vouching for you, then obviously you misheard."

The prisoner's face was boiling with anger. The guard seemed to take note of Hakoda's words however, and searched around him for someone nearby. "Hey, you," he said, pulling in a girl who was standing close enough to hear the dispute. "Were these two talking about breaking out?"

The girl curled her lip in disgust at the man's rude behavior. She pulled away from him and folded her arms irritably, eying Mustang and Hakoda. She snorted and answered, "Yeah, they were going on and on about that. You could hear them from the Earth Kingdom." She pointed to Mustang, "This guy was talking about how every time he goes to prison he breaks out in horrible acne. It was really gross." Mustang felt a blow at his pride but he kept himself composed.

"What!? No!" The prisoner exclaimed. He started shouting his objections but the guard seemed to have had enough of him. He let go of Mustang and dragged the other prisoner away, sighing an irritable, "waste of my time."

Mustang felt a breathe of relief leave his mouth and turned to the young girl awkwardly. He didn't know whether to thank her – since that would instantly just prove him guilty – or not. Hakoda, however, was not so inconspicuous and grinned wildly, "Wow, thanks a bunch! You really saved us!"

The girl pushed back her short hair from her face and smiled, "No problem." She added, "So, tomorrow morning, right?"

Mustang and Hakoda both faltered at the same time. "E-Excuse me?" Mustang stuttered.

"Didn't you say you were going to be talking about escaping tomorrow morning?" She asked nonchalantly.

Hakoda found his voice and asked, "So … you did hear us?"

She shot him a look that read, obviously. He continued, "Then why didn't you ..."

" – Sell you out?" She shrugged. "Easy. One; what would I gain from that? And two; You," she pointed to Mustang, "sound really confident about breaking out and I," she pointed to herself, "want to get out of here. Get it?"

"You don't even know what the plan is – or us," Roy stated. "How could you trust us so easily?"

"I don't need to trust you. I just need to get out of here. And when the opportunity to escape presents itself right in front of me, I wont let it slip by that easily."

Mustang was impressed. This girl was pretty interesting. Her attitude intrigued him – level-headed people were always valued subordinates and companions. He extended his hand out for the girl.

"Roy Mustang."

She smirked.

"I'm Suki."

---

He woke up calmly the next morning. His mind was plagued with ravish nightmares of Ishval but he learned to cope with it. He was up all night thinking that he didn't even remember falling asleep.

He really wished he had slept longer. No matter.

Mustang left his cell and went down for breakfast. He found Suki and Hakoda almost immediately, sitting at a table at the far corner of the huge room. Smart, he would give them that.

It was revealed after Suki introduced herself that Hakoda actually knew the girl – only by name. Apparently his son had once mentioned something about a girl named Suki who he encountered in a far away village who he befriended. She was a warrior of sorts, Mustang picked up, but everything else he couldn't make sense of.

Regardless, Hakoda reassured Roy later that any friend of his son's was someone they could trust, so Mustang decided to follow through on his word.

He sat down across from them with his food, ignoring their eager expressions. He took a bite out of his food and tried not to cringe at the awful taste. He looked up and saw that they were still staring at him. Looking around to make sure that no one was nearby, he pulled out sheets of paper. His lovely guard was kind enough to lend it to him, as well as a pen.

He laid out the paper on the table discreetly. "How good are your drawing skills?" He asked quietly, pointing at the sketch.

The two cocked their heads, obviously unprepared to hear that.

"Depends on what you need me to draw," Suki answered.

He pointed at one of the papers. Suki squinted at it and shrugged, "I think I can manage that."

Roy looked to Hakoda. "My field of expertise is mostly stick figures..." he murmured, scratching his head. "But I guess I could try."

"That's good enough."

He pointed at the other piece of paper, which looked like a rough sketch of the blueprints of the prison. His guard was kind enough to get him one so he could 'point to the place where he wanted to meet with her in private.'

"Do you know where your cells are by looking at this?" He asked them.

Suki pointed to the halls on the left.

Hakoda pointed to the halls on the right.

Mustang groaned loudly. He circled each spot gingerly, shaking his head at his luck. Suki and Hakoda were both massively confused at what Mustang was doing, but they chose not to say anything and let him continue.

Silently, he looked over some more of his sheets of papers while the other two just watched. He pulled out one blank sheet and tapped his pen on it and began writing while saying: "This is what we're doing. An hour before dinner, I'll come by your cells and break you out – "

"What – how?" Suki exclaimed.

"Focus," he said sternly, making her swallow her words. He continued, "There will be a time gap from when I break each of you out since your cells are both so far apart. When I let you out, you will take the guard's uniform, and put it on – quickly. The other prisoners might attract attention. Do you understand?"

"No," Suki answered.

"Do you not understand what to do?"

"I don't understand how you're planning to accomplish this."

Mustang's face remained the same when he repeated, "Do you not understand what to do?"

"No, but –"

"As long as you understand what to do there is no need for excess information to distract you," he said strictly.

Suki's brow furrowed at his tone, but she nodded obediently. Mustang looked at Hakoda, "Do you understand?"

He nodded without argument.

"Very well." Mustang continued, "Next; after you put on the guard's clothes, you will both meet here," he pointed to the blueprints, "underneath the left wing staircase and through the hallway. Now pay attention, this is the important part."

He pointed at the first sheet again and said slowly, "On the walls, three feet apart, until you reach the staircase at the end, you will draw this. Size is irrelevant. Do you understand?"

They nodded wordlessly.

"After you draw these," Mustang said. "You will wait for me. You will not move or allow anyone downstairs until I arrive. Is that clear?"

Nods.

"Excellent." He sat back, collecting his papers.

Hakoda started, "Wait, that's it?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't tell us how we're getting out/"

Roy blinked slowly, "Didn't we just go over the plan or was I talking to myself...?"

"But how are we getting out – "

Suki cut him off quickly, "are you absolutely sure that this plan will get us out?"

The Colonel met her steady gaze with his own, "85% sure."

"That's good enough for me," she said, sitting down and taking a small bite from her even smaller loaf of bread.

Hakoda, however, sputtered, "W-W-What!? But I don't get it!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Mustang deadpanned.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said with a convinced nod. "Suki said she had a plan before we met. She said it was foolproof."

Mustang turned to Suki. "Oh?"

Suki coughed. "Well, yes. I did. My plan was that we dig through our cells with spoons and use blankets to float up with the steam. I heard stories going around that one man once tried it but was shot down before he made it to th..e …. what, what?"

Mustang shook his head and decided it would be best not to comment on that. He stood up and patted Hakoda on the shoulder. "Just … don't forget, an hour before lunch. Be ready."

---

Mustang didn't know if it was heartless of him to not care when he knocked his guard unconscious. At least he caught her before she fell … ?

He called her into his cell to inspect 'a small hole in the corner of his cell' and quickly pulled her helmet off and rammed his elbow to her head. She fell without a sound. None of the other guards noticed.

He dragged her limp body to his bed and hid her under the covers. He nodded to himself. That's one thing crossed off his list. He forgot to account for the fact that her uniform was too small for him to wear. He scowled.

Minutes dragged on before a male guard passed his cell and he jumped out, dragging him to his cell and wrestling him to the ground as silently as possible. It took some struggle to come out victorious, but his combat skills were still as sharp as ever. He quickly stripped the man of his uniform and put it on himself, lowering the mask that was attached to the helmet to cover his face.

He dragged the other body to the bed and covered them both. It looked awkward, but it would manage. He closed the cell door, scratched a small transmutation circle on the lock, and melted the metal together, making it almost impossible to open the door. That should buy him some time.

He walked away, and the other guards didn't suspect a thing.

He walked down the hall quickly, avoiding all the other guards he passed and focused on the point on the paper where he marked Hakoda's location. Since it was near his cell, he found it quickly. When he reached the corner that led to the hall, he stopped and peeked his head.

Four guards were here. His hall only had two during the early shift since it was smaller, so this would be more difficult to carry out since it meant more prisoners, thereby more witnesses.

He took a minute to briefly think, then drew a rough circle on the wall with his pencil. It took a while, but after it was completed, he pressed both hands on it and reaction lights flickered. Four rods of cement launched from the walls, each hitting one of the guards violently and knocking them over, effectively rendering them unconscious. Quickly, he ran down the hall looking for Hakoda's hall in between the other prisoners' loud enthusiasm.

Roy found Hakoda's cell and stifled a snort when he saw the man's shocked face. He grabbed the key from the unconscious guard's belt and unlocked his cell. "Come out."

Hakoda obeyed, his expression frozen on his face. Mustang pointed to one of the fallen guard's face and said, "Put his uniform on and move the guards quickly to your cell and lock the door." He handed him the key. "Do you remember where to meet with Suki?"

Hakoda nodded mutely and Mustang handed him the paper with the drawing. "Do it quickly," and left.

The older man finally found his voice and breathed a raspy, "I'll be damned."

---

Mustang panted as he ran down the halls. He was stopped several times by other guards who demanded to know why he was running, and when he answered that the warren wanted to speak with him right away, they let him go easily.

Suki's cell was the first one around the corner and she spotted him immediately when he made the turn. He huffed and caught his breath, stealing a glance at the cracked clock that hung by the wall. Without wasting any more time than he already did, he quickly performed the same transmutation he used to knock out the previous guards and his results were the same.

The female prisoners were much louder than their male counterparts when they saw the guards fall, but Mustang ignored them as he quickly unlocked Suki's door. He gave her the same instructions as Hakoda and left her, but stopped when she called out to him.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"Personal business," he replied, and ran out.

---

Step Two: Retrieve Belongings

---

As he ran, he pulled out the sheet of paper that had the thorough drawing of the prison. One particular spot was boldly circled, and that's where he had his eyes on.

He ran up the stairs quickly, his hard boots clanking on each step. When he reached the top, he made a sharp turn and headed towards the door with the white circle painted on it crudely. Bingo.

He stopped to catch his breathe, hands on his knees. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he straightened and walked towards the door, until someone shouted to him.

"Stop."

Mustang obeyed the voice behind him and turned. It was the warden, standing on the other side of the hall with his lips curled. Mustang scowled. His running around must have caused a commotion and called for the warden to personally inspect.

"Come," the warden demanded, his finger wagging at him like a master commanding a dog.

Mustang looked to the clock quickly – ten minutes until the bell for lunch rang. Mustang smirked.

"Better protect your record, warden," he teased.

Roy pulled the door open with brute force and ran inside, slamming it shut behind him. He could hear the warden's rapid footsteps chase after from the other side, so Mustang etched a transmutation circle on the door and locked it shut.

Hard pounding and furious shouts followed from the other side of the metal door. Mustang ignored it and turned around – to face dozens of closets, cabinets and locked drawers with no labels. His shoulders slumped as he groaned.

Of course nothing was labeled; it's not like any of these things were meant to be returned. He shook his head and bent down to the nearest box, opening it up and searching through it.

The door behind him began glowing in heat and more voices could be heard from behind him. Mustang quickened his pace, dumping the contents in the box and looking through it. After the sixth box, and after the door was almost melted off, Mustang found what he was looking for.

He drew a sigil on the ground right underneath his feet, forming a hole underneath him. When the door was finally opened, there was nobody inside.

---

Step Three: Escape

---

Mustang landed on his feet a floor below, sending a tremor through his body. He took a few unsteady steps before he began running again, towards the direction of where Hakoda and Suki should be waiting for him.

He pulled off his mask from his face so he could breath better and jumped at the sound of the bell going off. He cursed violently. He should have been down there before the bell. He quickened his pace.

Fire suddenly whizzed past his ear, almost searing it off, and Mustang hissed at the burning. He turned. The warden stood with a furious expression with two guards on his side, each poised to attack.

"Stop him!" The old warden snarled.

Mustang didn't give them the chance and ran up the first staircase he encountered, while dozens of prisoners were being led down for lunch. Mustang smirked. As he ran in between the crowd, he could hear the warden shouting, "Find him! Don't let him get away!"

When he reached the top floor, he ran to the other staircase at the end. Too many stairs! He climbed down quickly, almost tripping on his own feet. He jumped down, ran and turned – and found Hakoda and Suki waiting for him. The walls were covered with transmutation circles, just like he had instructed them to draw.

"What took you so long?" Hakoda asked.

Mustang shook his head, gasping for air. He swallowed and stood up. Suki noticed what was in his hands and exclaimed, flabbergasted, "This whole time you went to get your clothes!?"

"Now what?" Hakoda asked him when he failed to answer Suki.

"Now ... we get out," Mustang answered after a few seconds. He pressed his hands on one of the transmutation circles and focused his energy on activating it. It began to glow and wall began to shake, but Mustang didn't stay to watch. He moved to the next one and activated it – and then moved to the next one – and the next – the next – the next –

"Roy! The guards are here! What are you doing!?" Hakoda shouted when a few guards rounded the corner.

"I need more time," he said through grit teeth. "Stall them."

Suki stretched her arms the moment Mustang finished talking and ran towards the guards swiftly. She grabbed on of their arms, dropped him to the floor, then pulled him by the arm and tripped a few of them with his body. She leaped over the fire that was shot at her and dug her foot into one of their shins, dropping him to the ground. She grabbed one of the guards and threw him to another guard.

While Hakoda watched, mouth gaping, Mustang finished the last of the circles with a shaky breath. The walls were shaking violently, the reaction in process. He shouted, "Suki!" and she came running back.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, and she shook her head, saying, "There's more coming, though."

The walls began shaking even more aggressively and started to shift. Suki took a step back at the movement, "W-what? What did you do? The walls are made of metal – how?"

Her exclamation was drowned out by the sound of metal twisting and turning grotesquely. The walls began connecting end by end next to each other, almost like it was forming a bridge. Sunlight broke through each torn wall until the last wall touched the mouth of the volcano and they were practically outdoors.

Suki and Hakoda were wide eyed when they watched the walls form into a long metal, bridge, reaching the rim of the volcano. Steam slapped them in the face and their awestruck faces turned to Mustang, who look mildly impressed at his own work. He wiped his forehead with his arm and sighed, "I don't know how Fullmetal does it..."

"H-How …" Suki croaked dryly, but she regained her composure when dozens of guards flooded the corner and made their way to them. She cursed loudly – "We need to go!"

Apprehensively, they took one step on the newly transmuted bridge, wondering if it could hold. Mustang made his way to follow them, but then turned and picked up his clothes that he dropped on the floor. He rummaged through his military uniform's pockets, finally pulling a pair of gloves and slipping them on.

He pointed his hand to the guards – and snapped.

A torrent of fire shot out, and the ground below them combusted. Mustang didn't wait to see the result of his attack; he turned and followed his companions.

Only they weren't running. They were staring at him like he just grew a second head. Suki stammered, "D-Did you just … firebend?"

"Talk later," Mustang said gruffly, pulling her arm while he ran across his freshly transmuted bridge. It did not waver at all when their weights were on it.

His feet fumbled after each step and his vision was blurring at the edges. His adrenaline tank was close to empty, and he could feel the exhaustion crawling through his skin and towards his mind, but he couldn't stop now. He wasn't done.

When they reached the end of the bridge and on to solid land, Mustang extended his hand and snapped, destroying the passage he spent so much energy to make. The metal pieces fell to the boiling water with a loud splash. The guards looked out from the opening in awe. Mustang's feet seem to be melting and he almost fell back if it weren't for strong arms holding him up.

"You okay there, Roy?" Hakoda asked.

He shook his head and pointed down, "Have to find a boat and get out. No time."

Hakoda frowned and looked at Suki, who just shrugged. He helped Mustang climb down the steep volcano and towards the rocky shore, the Colonel's arm swung over his shoulder. The sounds of alarms going off in the prison could be heard from afar, but they ignored it.

Hakoda looked around for a boat, but none could be spotted. "How about that?" Suki called, pointing to a war balloon that sat on a short cliff. Hakoda made a bemused face, "That … could work."

The three climbed onto the gondola of the blimp and Hakoda began lighting the fire. Mustang slid down to the floor with a huge sigh, his back against the short wall of the basket, as they took off to the sky.

He was dizzy and nauseous behind comprehension to even understand what was happening. All he knew was that he was leaving that horrid prison. The plan to escape was accomplished. Which meant the first step to escaping this world was accomplished.

Now onto the second step: finding Fullmetal.

Mustang grimaced. That's going to be the more difficult endeavor.

He tucked his uniform behind his neck and closed his eyes. He was unconscious within seconds.

---

His mind was swimming through a black ocean of nothing. It was soothing and he could feel himself recharge. His sleep was clean from any dreams and thoughts, and he was fully dead in his mind.

When he awoke, he found that the black abyss had enveloped the sky, littered with only a few dozen visible stars.

Mustang sat up, stretching his arms and his back. He groaned at his stiff muscles, wondering how long he had been asleep. Last he'd remembered, it was afternoon when he left the prison. He stood up and noticed he was still inside the basket of that odd air balloon, but no longer in the air. He was in the middle of some sort of forest, surrounded by towering trees. Good, Mustang thought. They had strayed away from the prison. That was one problem solved, now onto the next one.

He stood up and stretched again. All the alchemy he used really took a toll on his body, leaving him sore and exhausted. The damage wasn't permanent, however, and so Mustang would not let it hinder him.

Suki and Hakoda were standing next to each other by an open fire a few feet away on the grassy ground, talking to one another. When they saw him awake, they frowned.

"You bent fire," Suki said bluntly with no room for pleasantries.

"Yes," Mustang answered, climbing off the war balloon and taking his clothes with him.

"But the metal," Hakoda blurted. "How did you bend the metal, too?"

Mustang pursed his lips. Their eyes were clouded with mistrust and apprehension. He predicted this suspicion to arise at this moment. It was only natural that they should be nervous about his alchemy. They had a right to know, though. It was only because of their efforts that he had managed to escape the Boiling Rock, and so Mustang knew he should be truthful with them if he wanted to maintain their comradeship.

"It's difficult to explain, but I will try to, nonetheless. Do you remember when I said – " he stopped suddenly. The sounds of rustling and twigs snapping could be heard from behind him. Someone else was here. Hakoda and Suki noticed his pause and followed his gaze.

From behind the trees, a short, plump old mad walked out. Mustang tensed. Just because they were no longer in prison did not mean they were safe. Anyone could be an enemy – everyone was an enemy.

"Who are you?" Mustang demanded. It would be dangerous if he heard or picked up anything from their brief talk.

"That's General Iroh."

Mustang paused when Suki answered on the old man's behalf. Why did she know who he was...?

"When we landed," Hakoda explained. "We ran into him. It was … ah … quite the meeting."

This time the old man spoke with a clear smile, "Roy, was it? I heard interesting things about you. I'm honored to meet the first man to escape the Boiling Rock."

Mustang's lips formed a straight line. "Thank you, General." He said tersely.

"No need for that. I haven't been a general for many years now."

"I apologize for the rudeness and suspicion," Mustang said abruptly. "But who exactly are you and," he turned to his two companions, "what exactly is going on."

"Don't apologize; your suspicion is inevitable," Iroh said. "I happened to be walking by when I spotted the war balloon landing. I thought it was after me so I went to inspect it."

"After you? I don't understand..."

Hakoda stepped up to elaborate. "Iroh was a former general in the Fire Nation army, but some … things had happened and he's now considered a traitor. Just like us, he recently escaped prison. We crossed paths a few hours ago and came to an understandment."

Mustang's brow furrowed as he tried to digest the information. "Fire Nation..." he murmured. The old man looked harmless, but the Fire Nation was the main enemy. The fact that they trusted him so easily, though...

"He's trustworthy," Suki said, answering his unspoken question. But the old man raised a hand to cut her off, "Now, now. Let's have him judge me with his own eyes."

"Can I ask why you decided to stay with us instead of continuing on to wherever you were going?" Mustang asked bluntly. "What will you benefit from traveling with us?"

"I am searching for someone," Iroh answered. "My nephew. He has been separated from me. There is a chance that he can be found somewhere near the people Hakoda and Suki here are looking for. It seems we all of missing mutual friends in this part of land."

Roy nodded, understanding. If Hakoda and Suki found the people they were looking for, then the General should be able to find the person he was looking for – and vice versa. It was logical for them to stick together.

Mustang nodded and sat down on the ground. "If that's the case, then welcome, General, to our small group of fugitives. I'm Roy Mustang, and I'm sure my companions here introduced themselves to you and filled you in on what's been happening."

Iroh smiled and took a seat on the soft ground as well. "That they have, Mister Mustang. You've been resting for a long time, but just the right amount of time for me to understand each of your predicaments."

Hakoda and Suki took their respective seats as well, and they all allowed the tension to ooze out of their bodies as they watched the fire flicker.

"I still can't believe we're out," Suki murmured with an incredulous smile to match her words.

"I know what you mean," Hakoda chuckled. "I guess now would be as good as anytime to begin discussing where we need to start looking for the kids." He turned to Mustang. "What about you, Roy? You never told us what you planned to do after you escape."

"Coincidentally, I am also looking for someone," he answered. "A subordinate of mine..."

"Ah, yes." Iroh hummed. "I was informed that you were a military man as well. A Colonel, was it? Such a high rank for a young man, I must admit. Which army, however, was never specified."

Iroh paused, and his gleaming eyes narrowed a bit. He had a knowing look draping his features, and Mustang wondered what, exactly, did he know. "You have an odd aura around you, Colonel Mustang." He paused. "You're not from here, are you?"

The Colonel bit the inside of his cheek, looking at Hakoda and Suki. Their wariness was impossible to miss, and Mustang knew he couldn't avoid the topic anymore. It had to come out some time, and it seemed now was that time.

"Who are you, really?" Hakoda asked quietly.

Mustang let out a large sigh that he had been holding in for quite some time now. He looked to the other man and began, "When I told you that I lost some of my memory, I was lying. The General's right – I'm not from here."

As he spoke, he watched their eyes widen with disbelief with every word that came out of his mouth.

---

Mustang couldn't fall back asleep after that; he was surprised that they did, actually. After all the information he gave them, it was a shock that they didn't laugh at his face and call him insane. It would be understandable if they did, but they didn't and Mustang was glad of that.

They had accepted his explanations with gasps and long silences, but without any objections. His alchemy was probably the main disputing factor of it all. Hakoda had to pace around the fire to sort his mind out.

When he had answered all their fervid questions – and had sat in their silence of digesting it all – he asked his share and found that he was the one who had trouble comprehending his situation.

Their world – this world – was in bad shape. Mustang had experienced his share of hell when his country fell to war (massacre. That was a massacre. There was no way that could be considered a war. It was one-sided and it was just bloodshed.) but these people were experiencing a full world war – a worldwide genocide.

And every individual was affected by it, from all over. The General, who's own brother was the mastermind of this whole catastrophe, was a traitor to his own country for helping his own nephew.

Hakoda, whose wife's life was taken because of the war and whose children were fighting in it, was forming his own army to end the war.

Suki, who was a warrior and a leader all on her own, was struggling to find and free her fellow warriors who have been imprisoned.

Mustang could only dreadfully imagine how the rest of the world was coping with this hostility.

They had talked for hours, and when the third hour had passed, resting seemed like the only logical thing to do before setting out.

It had begun to rain a few minutes after they had all closed their eyes.

Mustang's, however, remained open.

After all the talk about what was happening in this world, his mind drifted to the possibilities of what could be happening in his world.

How long had he been here, anyway? A day – two maybe? Or was it a week – or even a month?

The Lieutenant was the only person to see him be decomposed by the transmutation. What did she do after that? Did she wait there, expecting him to come back? Did she panic? Did she scream? Did she cry? Did she –

No, Hawkeye was stronger than that. She would have thought of a rational thing to do. She had some experience with alchemy, so she should have understood the basics of what had happened.

But did she know he was here? Did she know he was alive – or did she think he was dead?

She did, Mustang thought. It only made sense to presume he was dead. For the amount of time he had been gone, it would be understandable to think that he had perished the instant his body disappeared.

He wondered, briefly, how she broke the news to his men. Would they cry over him?

Hughes most definitely would. He was too soft and sentimental for his own good. He probably was the one who spoke during the funeral.

Hawkeye probably wore the same stoic expression she did when she stood before her father's grave.

He wondered if it rained during his funeral, like it was now.

Alphonse probably wouldn't attend his funeral. He would be in Resembool, attending his older brother's funeral. How did Hawkeye tell the cold, expressionless suit of armor that his brother was dead? Poor Alphonse, standing by the grave that was dug next to his mother's, unable to cry or grieve properly.

He probably hated Mustang. He did. He hated him.

Why shouldn't he? Mustang was the won who brought Edward along to the mission that ultimately led to his death. He had the right to hate him.

Mustang was supposed to protect hem. He brought them along to the horrible lifestyle of the military in hopes of finding a way to restore their bodies – albeit, at first it was for the promotion and recognition. But he grew attached to them, as much as he disliked admitting that, especially around the gushy Hughes.

He promised himself he wouldn't let anything happen to them.

What a failure he was.

He failed.

Failed them both.

A flash of lightning erupted and Mustang perked his head.

No.

No, he didn't. He didn't fail them. Not yet.

They weren't dead. Mustang was alive. He was breathing. He was thinking. He was in another world, not the afterlife. There still was a chance to get back to Amestris – to everyone. Mulling over his predicament was useless. He had to return. He had to find Edward and return.

But where was Fullmetal? A nagging voice piped from behind his mind, patronizing him with every syllable it sounded out. He could be dead. What if he was the fee to bring you here?

No. He wasn't, Mustang told himself. But he wasn't as convincing as he thought he was. Artfield was the fee, he said. It was Artfield, it had to be. Because –

– 'The world isn't that cruel?' The voice finished his sentence, and suddenly, it wasn't his own voice in his mind saying this. It was the white being from the white room that was hissing into his brain. What naïve thinking you have there. You can't honestly expect that to be the reason, it said.

Fullmetal wasn't the one who activated the circle, Mustang thought.

That's irrelevant. Alchemy takes what it's given.

Artfield activated the circle. It was his transmutation. He was the fee.

The fee could be anything – anyone. Whatever is on the circle during activation is the offering.

But I was on the circle – I'm still here.

And so is Artfield, while Edward Elric is the receipt for your trip.

Fullmetal is here.

Where's your proof?

He has to be here, just like how I'm here.

He's dead, Alchemist.

He's here.

Equivalent Exchange.

One human life does not cost the same as transporting one!

He was only half a human.

He's alive – just like how I'm alive.

He's dead, and you're alone.

Another flash of lightning made its round, and Mustang decided that he was in need of sleep more than he realized.

---

Suki, Hakoda and Iroh were awakened by a spent Mustang, who had bags forming underneath his eyes. They chose not to comment on that.

He told them that there was a village not far from where they were, and presented them hooded cloaks to wear to fend off the rain and suspicious eyes.

Mustang was wearing his blue military uniform rather than the rags he was forced to wear in the Boiling Rock. He was more comfortable in it, he told them. They were mesmerized by the unique design of it.

When they began trudging through the soggy floor, the rain had stopped and suffocating mist replaced it.

Their walk wasn't quiet and somber; it was actually quiet enjoyable. Hakoda was telling tales of his children's adventures that they told him about, and Suki provided her own stories from the time when she was with them.

Iroh laughed along, although it was quiet tension filled for him. His nephew was on "bad terms" (as he put it) with Hakoda's kids because of the war. Iroh had no ill-feelings for any of them, even with his roots, but he couldn't really say the same about his nephew.

"I'm sure his eyes will be opened someday, though," Iroh kept saying with a smile that reached his eyes. It was hard to believe this person was the brother of the man who had dreams of sending this world into hell in a few days.

In essence, it was hard to look at these three people, who had lost so much but were still able to smile at a story and laugh at an overused joke. It reminded him, painfully, of his days after he returned from the civil war and how he was nothing like them; leaving the office after hours only to spend more numbing hours at a local, dusty tavern, to later return home to an equally dark house where he stayed awake for even longer hours in self-loathing. He couldn't look in the mirror for weeks without swallowing back the disgust of his reflection – he couldn't look at the hands that were only bloodstained in his mind.

These people, truly, were something extraordinary.

"Can you tell us more about your world?" Suki had kept asking with an eager smile to hear more wonderful stories about the unreal place. Mustang talked about the people and the places of his world, but never went into detail about the wars and the tears. It didn't seem fair, in a way, to talk about his tragedy when these people were living in a much worse condition now.

He told Suki about Amestris and Drachma and Xing, and own sets of unique cultures and traditions. He told her about the automobiles and the radios and the guns – all the things this country lacked that Suki wanted to hear more about.

He told her about Hawkeye and her pinpoint accuracy and how she was feared more than the Fuhrer in his office.

He told them about how Falman was a walking memory stick and was perfect for blackmailing someone when they said something stupid in his presence while drunk. How Fuery was a complete genius when it came to technology, but was scared beyond explanation to drive in a car in fear of it randomly exploding.

How Havoc's excuse for skipping work – since the moment he joined the military – was because of a break-up and how Breda once accidentally stepped on the Lieutenant's dog and got on his knees, begging for forgiveness in fear of the pup retaliating and slaughtering him.

He told her about how Edward once managed to bring back a bill with him from a simple inspection with a total of more than a million cen for damage repair – and more than half a month's salary on sweets.

"Can you tell us more about Alchemy?" Hakoda asked with wide fascinated eyes, hungry for information on the unknown. Mustang, full of pride and without hesitation, told the man about the basics and fundamentals of alchemy – about its laws and powers and benefits.

He told him about the structure of a transmutation circle, and by comparing it with bending, noticed that the gap of difference between the two was much larger than they had both expected.

He told him about his flame alchemy – only briefly. He explained how not everyone could be an alchemist; only those who are completely dedicated and are willing to spend their lives studying it can become one.

He told him how, yes, a truly intelligent and rare alchemist was capable of transmuting all the elements, but it requires much blood and grit and sweat and tears and years to do so.

(Edward might be a special case for his clapping alchemy, but he is a tragic exception, and it is unnecessary for these people to know the details of that.)

"Can you tell us more about the government in your country?" Iroh asked inquisitively, eyes curious like a toddler but with a tiny shard of hope floating around it. Mustang could understand that hope – the hope of renewing this country into something equal to fairness.

He told the General about the Parliamentary Republic country and how the majority of it was run by the military. He told them about Fuhrer King Bradley's strict and merciless rule and how it was by his command that a civil war had started, and it was by his command that the civil war ended.

He told Iroh about how he was planning to climb up the ranks and change the country. How he wanted to become the leader, but not be the Fuhrer – but the president in the newly established democracy. Before he knew it, he was babbling to Iroh, whose soft eyes silently ushered him to continue. He told him how he desperately wanted to repent for his sins and regrets. He told him how he brought Edward into the military, and how he would quietly reflect on that decision with regret when he would see him walk into his office – battered, bruised, bleeding, limping – no where closer to his goal then when he first came two years ago.

"After a while," Iroh said with a sad, mutual sigh. "Those regrets become a part of you. You can't change that – it's as useless as chasing clouds." But then he pointed to the cloudy, wet sky above and said, "however, clouds can be reshaped, just like your future. You are here now – you have the power to change your day and your future, and make it one without any regrets."

Mustang didn't feel reveled enough to take in the words the wise man had to offer, nor did he feel like interpreting it to a deeper meaning.

He just wanted to sleep.

It had been almost an hour when they finally began seeing other people walking the same road as them.

Mustang was beginning to doubt that he had led them the right way. When he left early in the morning to obtain the rain cloaks, it took him no less than twenty minutes to find civilization. He was getting very annoyed with himself for wasting more time than he had.

It was after a few minutes that a peculiar girl stopped them in their path.

Mustang mused that she was quite pretty if she didn't have that enraged snarl plastered on her face, or that horrid cut running down her cheek, over-flooding with angry blood.

When his entourage froze at the sight of the girl, he knew something was wrong. When the girl stopped and examined the four with angry confusion which warped to a sadistic grin, he knew something was definitely, definitely wrong.

"Uncle!" She exclaimed with a voice that wanted to sound amused and patronizing but let slip pure resentment. Mustang followed her gaze to the person she was addressing – Iroh – and quickly assessed the situation. If Iroh were her uncle, then she must be the Fire Lord's daughter, since the General never mentioned any other sibling. As daughter of the most sinister man in the world, it says a lot about what type of person she could be; misunderstood, power hungry, lonely, gloomy –

– A monster.

"...And that filthy Kyoshi peasant," she sneered with more detest at Suki, who tensed when the other girl's eyes shifted to her. Mustang had never seen such pure, raw hatred on someone so young. "Why aren't you rotting in prison like the scums you are?"

Iroh shrugged, "It didn't fit my accommodations."

The girl scowled. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to see that annoying face of yours anymore."

"And I am ashamed to see your face so distraught," Iroh said sadly. "And that injury on your face. My, it looks painful – I hope it doesn't scar. Did you get into a fight, Princess Azula?" He spoke so carelessly to her, as if he was commenting on the weather.

Every word that floated out of his mouth made the girl's teeth clench harder and harder. Mustang could see what Iroh was doing, but he didn't know this girl. He didn't know what she was capable. He didn't know if Iroh was taking the right step.

"Don't speak to me so casually!" She demanded. "Address me like you would address your death!" She must have noticed her outburst at that moment, or noticed that her uncle was just railing her up. Either way, she took a deep breath and her eyes steadied. She wiped her cheek with a swift motion and said, "This is nothing. A rat slipped through my fingers and I plan to deal with it soon. But now it seems I have to deal with you maggots first."

"That's not like you to let someone bypass you, Princess," Iroh lectured. "Haven't you been taught that you shouldn't underestimate your opponent? Especially now, with four against one."

"Underestimate? Ha!" She wiped her cheek again. "He was a fool to go against me – I'll make sure to have him suffer for his mistake!"

"He really did a mark on you," Iroh murmured. "Was it Zuko? Or was it the Avatar?"

"Those fools could never touch me!" She hissed venomously. Azula then paused. She flared her nose, eyes widening, when she said, "Oh, that's it. You're looking for Zuko and think I could tell you where he is? Is that it? How tactless of you, Uncle! I expected a little more."

She turned to Suki with a wide grin, "And you probably think it was that water tribe brute who did this to me, hoping that he would be around here, too. How pathetic! That fool would never survive a second against me."

"Don't you dare insult my son," Hakoda suddenly and harshly snapped at Azula. He took a step forward, just daring her to say more.

"You have the nerve to tell me what to do? You're as senseless as your brat!" She laughed cynically, watching their faces morph into angry expressions. Teeth baring in sick satisfaction, she turned to Mustang, eyes shining menacingly. "And who is this one? Another member of your pathetic search party?"

Mustang remained silent, eyes narrowed indifferently.

Something was wrong with this girl – she obviously held some sort of unbelievable strength if she was able to intimidate everyone so easily. Considering that she was the daughter of the Firelord, there was a very high chance that she was able to bend fire.

"Too scared to talk? You should be! With a flick of my wrist I can send you straight to your death!"

Mustang didn't respond.

He didn't know anything about this girl, but he knew for certain that this type of behavior of hers was not congenital. Someone or something caused her to become so infuriated, so much so that she was willing to fight four people all on her own. If Mustang were to take a guess, he would say it had something to do with that cut on her face – or, more specifically, the person that gave her that cut on her face.

"What a laugh – He can't even get a word out! What's the matter, worm? Are you too afraid of me?"

Silence.

Someone attacked her, someone she deeply underestimated. It must have been a non-bender, considering everyone with the capability to bend an element would obviously use their ability when in a fight. The cut under her eye was clean and precise, the work of something sharp, like a blade or a knife.

Mustang recognized where his train of thought was leading and instantly doubted himself – could it be? No…it's impossible. But then again, it was not improbable. There was only one person that Mustang was aware of that fought with a blade and was able to infuriate a person beyond rationale.

"Answer me when I am talking to you!" She barked loudly, the volume making Suki jump from surprise.

Eerily silence engulfed them. Suki swallowed and looked from Azula to Mustang.

Mustang was surprised with himself with the conclusion he was flirting with. The chances of him being correct were beyond measurement – so large that it was borderline illogical.

However, what was the harm in testing his theory?

"Answer me!" Azula demanded again, her hair bouncing off her messy bun as she shouted violently.

Mustang did not answer her. He studied her with his calculating eyes, watching her heave in frustration. He let the silence linger a little longer before asking, "Tell me who gave you that cut."

"You're telling me what to do!? Know your place, you disgusting –"

"You're avoiding the question," Mustang stated.

"What?"

"You don't want to answer the question," Mustang continued in a firm, calm tone. "Is it because the answer is too humiliating to answer out loud? You were defeated, weren't you? But you refuse to admit it."

She breathed harder at his words, wiping her bloody cheek. Her mouth twitched. "What would you know!?"

"Perhaps you did underestimate your opponent?" Mustang went on, voice more leveled and a tone sharper. "You've lost for the first time in a while, haven't you? Your face is cut - that's proof enough of your defeat."

"Shut up!"

"The humiliation of losing to this person is eating at you - especially the type of person it was. Who was it? Was it a child – adult? – from the Water Tribe? – a traitor from your own country? – a friend of yours? – the Avatar?"

"I said shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"

He heard Hakoda fervently tell him to stop under his breathe, to please be quiet because you have no idea what you're doing but Mustang ignored him.

"Or maybe," Mustang said lowly. "It was someone else. Someone unexpected. Someone you've never seen before."

"What are you getting at?" She demanded unsteadily. "What do you know?"

Mustang kept his face expressionless when he said, "He bent all the elements but he wasn't the Avatar – am I correct?"

Azula's eyes widened dramatically and Mustang held his breath. "You know him!?" She began to shout incredulously. "You know that golden rat, don't you!?"

Blistering ice seemed to form around Mustang's insides. He was right. He maintained his cool façade, hoping his relief didn't seep into his features. "Tell me where he is," The Colonel demanded.

She swung her arm violently out of pure rage. A wave of heated blue flame erupted out her hand and rushed toward Mustang. He expected this type of retaliation and side stepped it easily, allowing it to his the trees behind him. He kept his back square, chin high, refusing to allow himself to be intimidated.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" She exploded.

Roy maintained his posture. Azula stood straighter, eyes glaring into his steady ones and said with fists clenched, "Know your place or I'll give you the same punishment as I gave that brat for his ignorance!"

A flash of emotion flashed in Mustang's face. He regretted it instantly when Azula flashed him a wicked grin, "Hit a mark, have I? Don't worry, you'll find your little friend's ashes not too far from here once I'm done with you, if you can get past me, that is."

Mustang cursed himself for his slip, but disregarded it that moment. She was using his tactic now. How cowardly. However, it was not easy to rile him up.

Only very few things managed to anger him to the point where he couldn't register his own actions. She could try, but it would be futile.

He responded to her, saying, "I'm not worried. I know for certainty that I can defeat. Considering that my 'little friend' managed to ruffle you up a bit," he gestured to her with an impressed nod, "and considering that I'm three times his size and three times more experienced, this should be a breeze."

Azula crossed her arms and unfolded them violently, spewing fire to the moist ground that hissed at the contact. "You have the same power as him? No matter. You'll be dead within a minute once I start."

"Then show me. The suspense is killing me," Mustang teased, tugging his gloves tighter. She clenched her fists so tight that they tinted white, and she brought an arm up to shoot –

– But Roy was quicker and he snapped violently.

Fire exploded in front of Azula and the ground shook. He snapped again, deliberately knocking down the trees in her direction. He let no time escape.

In the mud, he drew a sigil and planted his hands on it. He heard Azula cough but paid no heed to it. The transmutation lit to life and a trench was dug through the muddy ground. He grabbed Suki, Hakoda and Iroh and shoved them a little too harshly inside it before he dove as well, drawing another circle to cover the opening with mud.

"What are yo –" Suki began but a gloved hand quickly silenced her in the muddy darkness.

It was silent for a few seconds on the surface, then: "You coward!" Azula half screeched, half laughed. "Running away? Running away!"

Mustang could hear her howls from under the ground and ignored her taunts. She continued on talking like he was still standing in front of her.

"You can run but just remember that I will find you! I will find you and that rat and I will kill you both!" Her laughing stopped and in a much darker tone, she grunted, "No one makes a fool out of me."

It was quiet for sometime after that. Mustang didn't take any chances getting out of the trench just yet.

Suki made a move to say something but he tightened his grasp on her mouth, which she didn't particularly like, ultimately leading her to bite him. She remained silent though.

A few more minutes passed surrounded by mud that was steadily caving in. When more minutes passed, Mustang extended his hand and pushed the ground off of them, standing up and helping each one of them out.

"Why didn't you..." Suki began tentatively, unsure how to word her question.

Mustang saved her the trouble of finishing, "Fight?" He shrugged, "Many reasons, but mainly, she seemed severely unstable. I don't doubt any of your abilities, but I was not at my full strength, and I know from experience that unpredictable and volatile enemies are the most dangerous. Also, I don't know much about her or her fighting abilities, and I didn't want to underestimate her."

"Well, I know her, and I could tell you that you dodged one hell of a storm right there," Suki muttered.

Mustang gave a tired smile, "Good to know."

---

They resumed their trail after that, but at a much slower pace. Azula could still be lurking around, and they all agreed that they did not want to run into her again.

They never did manage to make it to the village.

While following the path, a boy intercepted Iroh and started asking him questions, only to freeze. The coincidence was far too good to be true, for the boy was Iroh's nephew, Zuko.

He had been traveling with a group of other kids, and two of those kids also happened to be Hakoda's son and daughter. Luck had seemed to be on their side today, and the reunion was more than heartwarming. Mustang smiled fondly at that.

Happy tears were spilled everywhere, jokes were thrown lightly at each other and smiles were on everyone's face. Hakoda moved to introduce Mustang to everyone, and Roy was more than happy to meet the kids that the adults looked up to.

He registered their names quickly; Zuko was Iroh's nephew and had a horrid scar on the side of his face that Mustang didn't have any trouble identifying as a burn wound. Katara and Sokka were Hakoda's daughter and son, respectively, and they each inherited their father's dim tan and startling eyes. Toph was the short girl with choppy hair and a loud voice, who carried herself like a titan. Aang was the glorified Avatar who –

"… it was almost like what I felt when I was near Ed …"

Ed –

Edward –

Fullmetal – !

Mustang didn't give them a chance to say another word, quick to question them as much as he could, squeezing them of all the information they had. They were guarded kids, granted, but Mustang refused to let them keep any information from him.

Hearing it from Azula was one thing, but hearing these children confirm it with details and facts was elevating.

Edward was here – here.

Mustang felt like a heavy load was lifted off his shoulders and breathed more loosely. Fullmetal was here – he wasn't dead – he wasn't lost – he was here – here.

Suki showed them to an abandoned mine cave and they took refuge there for the time being. The Colonel sat and listened to what the kids had to say about Edward.

The Toph girl had encountered him a few days ago, had a brief conversation with him, and then he left abruptly. Mustang snorted. That sounded like Fullmetal. Then Zuko had found him sleeping in a forest, and brought him back to the rest of the kids so Katara – she had a unique ability for using her water to heal – could look at his leg. But Edward again left abruptly after that.

(The children all looked nervous when mentioning that part but Mustang chose to question them about that later.)

Later they ran into him again in a village that was not too far away from here, where he was residing in a small inn since his leg seemed to hinder him. This time they were able to corner Ed and uphold an actual conversation with them. They gave him valuable information - such as this Pheonixdragon blood that piqued Roy's interest - while he gave them information that wasn't really valuable but only satisfactory to their curiosities.

The kids seemed hurt and affronted when they explained to Mustang how he repeatedly declined their offer for him to tag along with them. Mustang didn't find that surprising. That was Ed's character; he was pushing them away so they wouldn't get involved in his problems.

Afterward, the kids left Ed in the inn, but returned the next day to visit him again. However, he wasn't there anymore. And neither was the inn. It was completely burned down. Mustang felt his blood run cold when they said that the locals believed that it was Azula's doing.

So it was Edward who fought her. He was just taking a lucky guess when insinuating to Azula that Ed was the one who cut her. Dammit, Fullmetal! Mustang fumed inwardly. You just had to piss off the wrong people!

When they finished talking, Katara announced that eating would be the next phase of action. Mustang disagreed, but kept quite. His next phase of action was to find Edward. He couldn't be far, the Colonel ruled out, since Azula had recently run into him. But if he was hurt...

Aang had tapped his shoulder lightly, waking him from his thoughts. Katara and Zuko had left to get food, and Aang wanted to talk to him about something. Something important, the boy added nervously. Mustang was all ears, but after a few minutes of listening to the boy speak, he was having doubts that he was hearing him correctly.

Edward's presence sparked something in Aang that gave him the impulse to attack the blonde. Aang saw Ed as a threat, and vice versa only less violently. Hearing this, Mustang ruled that it didn't make any sense, but Aang insisted that it was true and that it might be something spiritual.

"Spiritual?"

"...You don't have spirits in your world...?"

"That's just a fantasy – a myth."

That seemed to make the situation much more confusing for both parties. It was even more confusing since the sensation wasn't felt from Mustang and only Ed. Mustang wanted to brush it off as something not to worry about, but Aang disagreed persistently. It was something serious, the boy said. Mustang didn't understand.

Roy cradled his head.

Fullmetal was definitely a handful.

Their conversation was cut short when running footsteps thundered outside. Mustang's head perked up and –

– speak of the devil, he thought grimly.

---

Author's Note: written: 1/15/13

Edited: 3/24/16