This chapter is a tricky one, simply thanks to the number of characters in it. Either way, I hope it will prove very enjoyable for you. Time to read chapter 7!


Chapter 7

The Central City police station was in an uproar. A vigilante…no, a killer had just escaped from them right under their noses. Even Hawkeye, who usually had a demeanor so stoic she could be mistaken for a rock, looked frustrated. So was Feury, since he couldn't seem to stop running his hands through his hair and cleaning his glasses. All of it was a blemish on their record, and the officers were scurrying around as if in fear of what Mustang would do when he found out upon his return.

Ed wasn't feeling any of that. As he sat in Chief Hawkeye's office and watched the police flit to and fro in front of the office windows, Ed could distinctly say he was not fearful…at least not for himself. Pick out any other one of the myriad of emotions that existed out there and Ed could definitely say he was feeling it. His pride was bruised from being taken out by Wrath; his anger was peaked towards whoever the hell was behind this; his frustration was boiling as he sat there, unable to do anything but wait. But he did feel some fear…fear that Lizzie and Lucas were scared out of their minds at what might happen. Eddie and Winry were strong, so he knew they'd hold together, but he didn't even want to think about the possibility of never seeing them again.

As his cup of coffee was placed on his lips, another unsettling thought came to sit in his stomach. Ed whipped out of his chair and lunged across Hawkeye's desk for the phone, dialing the number with as much speed as his reattached automail hand would let him. It began ringing and Ed felt his chest clenching, desperately hoping for what may have been the impossible. The second ring echoed out shrilly and Ed's hand gripped the phone tighter, hope dwindling away by the second. Then, the third ring began and was cut off before it finished.

"Hello?" Ed's sigh came as a veritable mountain of relief.

"Al, I'm glad to hear you're all right!" he quickly said to his brother.

"Um…okay…" Al said, a small sniffle tacked on the end. To Ed's ears, it appeared that his brother had been crying, which wasn't a surprise, given what had happened. Ed would cry, too, if he felt it did him any good. "Where are you brother? I tried visiting the house, but no one was there."

"Yeah…" Ed breathed out, those roiling feelings of uncertainty roaring back in his chest. "No…no one's going to be home."

"Brother, is everything okay?" Al asked, that usual brotherly concern in his question. For a brief moment, Ed thought about pretending that everything was just fine, but he knew it would bite him in the ass to pretend it was.

"No, it's not," he answered. "Al, do you think you could come to Central? Or is work too busy?"

"Central? Ed, what's going on?" Al inquired, the sniffles vanishing from his voice. He was all business, now, and Ed appreciated him for that. "I mean, I can definitely come over there. Mugear closed our division down for the week: first the Tringham's dad died and then our father did. He said we're so ahead of the curve that taking a week off wouldn't hurt. But tell me what's going on."

"Winry and the kids are in trouble," Ed answered solemnly. He didn't want Al to interrupt, so he forged on with his explanation. "You know that vigilante? Turns out he and whatever other sickos he's working with kidnapped them. I don't know why, but-"

A loud clamor was heard from outside the office, causing Ed to turn his head. Mustang was clearly back, judging from the clip at which Hawkeye was moving. On the other end of the phone, Ed could hear movement. "I'll be there as soon as I can, brother."

"Al," Ed said with sudden insistence. Judging from the sounds, his brother had stopped. "When are Mei and the kids supposed to be back in the country?"

"Um…they were going to get tickets for tomorrow's flight when I told them dad had died," Al explained. Ed nodded, even if his brother couldn't see him. That made this easier.

"Cancel those flight plans," he ordered. "Until this thing is over, let's keep your family out of harm's way. Ling may be a shifty-eyed bastard, but I trust him to keep them safe."

"All right. After I take care of it, I'll be on my way to Central."

"Sounds great. I gotta go," Ed said. He quickly tossed the phone down to hang it up and dashed from the room to where Mustang, Hawkeye and Feury were conversing. Most of the officers were just milling around by now, giving the commissioner a clear view of Ed approaching. He waved him over before turning to his own office. The blond had caught up by the time they were walking into the office.

"Rose, you can take the rest of the day off. Go pack for your vacation," the dark-haired man told his assistant before pushing open the double doors to his office. The three tagalongs followed him inside before he shut the door. No one was saying a word until Mustang sat on his chair. Even then, he only spoke one word: "Ather."

"The politician?" Ed asked, confused as to why he'd be mentioning the guy. Hawkeye and Feury looked a little more unsettled by this statement. "What's he got to do with this?"

"Where do I start?" Mustang seethed, leaning forward to rest his head on his palm. "For months he's been a thorn in the department's side, taking our funds away. Well, as it turns out, he had a vendetta to settle with us. Apparently, he adopts the moniker of 'Father' just to achieve this. Ironic, since he must have had his killed."

"So, Wrath is in the employ of Ather…I mean, Father?" Feury asked. Roy nodded, like that was all that needed to be said. Ed was more hung up on his last statement: he had killed his own father. Somewhere in the recesses of his memory, Ed vaguely recalled what the man looked like, though mostly just the light beard he had on his face. Hawkeye shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"He knows, doesn't he?" The question was asked in a harsh whisper, and Ed knew what they were talking about; it was the only topic between them that needed to be whispered. "About what happened sixteen years ago?"

"Dante was his mother, apparently." Everything clicked in Ed's head and the snarl that appeared on his face must have been quite fantastic to garner such attention from the other occupants in the room.

"So, the bearded bastard is my half-brother, then," Ed spat. He'd always known ("always" being a relative term) about his father's sexual relationship with Dante, but evidently he was unaware of this relationship. "Dante…she's like the gift that keeps on giving."

"Well, I have no intention of letting Father have his way," Roy declared vehemently. "Father wants to pick a fight with the department, and I'll give him one. No one messes with my family and gets away with it."

"You realize he has the upper hand right now, don't you?" Ed said, trying once more to control the seething rage inside of him. "How do you plan to get ahead?"

"By playing with his rules," Mustang answered, his old, confident smirk finding its way to his face. "Tell me, Fullmetal, do you still keep in contact with Greed?"

"Occasionally…but I can't see how that would…" Ed let his sentence taper off into nothing. He kept his eyes on the smug commissioner, rapidly analyzing the thought patterns the older man must have been having. When he finally understood, he snorted in amusement. "You want to see if Greed knows of any major dealings in the criminal underworld."

"Father is obviously well-versed in it to hire scum like Wrath, or someone to kill your father. I have no doubt that a senator taking these actions, even if anonymous, would send a wave through the underworld. Even if not, Greed keeps his ear to the ground enough that he may have heard something else…at least, last I checked he did." Mustang finished his statement with an insistent glare to Ed. The blond's eyes narrowed suspiciously; this was a very dangerous move for the commissioner of the police to play. It was likely they'd already have their asses on the fire after losing Wrath, but associating with a known gang leader would just make the situation worse. It was obvious that Ed would have to keep this low-key.

"Well then, excuse me while I make a phone call," Ed told them. He shoved his chair back and began to leave the office, hoping to find a secluded spot in the station, which was difficult in the bustling hallways. This was further hampered by the hulking form of Armstrong striding through. To Ed's surprise, the large man ignored him on his way to the commissioner's office. Ed brushed it off and finally found a mid-sized custodian's closet. Other than the reeking smell of bleach radiating from the room, it was perfect and Ed sat on an upturned bucket before making the call.

"Edward, this is an unexpected surprise. A pleasant one, of course," came the silky smooth voice of Greed over the phone. Ed almost cringed, half wanting to hang up the phone. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Thought we'd catch up and shoot the breeze," Ed said, trying to bite back on the sarcasm leaking out of his voice. Greed laughed on the other end.

"Let's not lie to each other, Edward," Greed said with an undeniable simper. "You're calling on behalf of our mutual acquaintance, the commissioner."

"How'd you guess?" he responded irritably. Ed was still grateful that all pretenses had been dropped.

"Rumors. The criminal underworld is quite abuzz with all sorts of interesting rumors lately."

"Do tell; I'm interested to know what's going on in the underworld." Greed laughed again, making Ed frown. Of course, dealing with Greed was never easy, which meant learning even the tiniest scrap of a rumor from him was like drawing blood from a stone.

"That costs money," Greed told him. Ed was about to sigh in frustration. "Normally, at least, but I'll waive the fee this time, because it's you, Edward."

"That's generous," Ed drawled in mock sarcasm. Greed laughed yet again.

"You know I wouldn't lie to you. It's not my thing," Greed finished with a chuckle. Ed was starting to wonder if he really was laughing, or if it was forced. "Truth be told, I've had my fair share of problems."

"Okay…how does that…?"

"Guns, Edward, guns…well, more than that, actually," Greed told him, a note of distaste in his voice. "Normally, things are quiet as a mouse…and then, all of a sudden, I see an uptick in weapons trades along the northern border."

"With Drachma?" Ed was tapping his chin, finding the news distasteful, himself.

"Yeah. I know it's none of my subordinates, either. Ever since tensions with Drachma have increased, I put a gag on those shipments," Greed told him. "I may be a criminal, but I'm not a traitor. So, I sent Dorochet to investigate whatever was going on and he saw tons of shipments just ready to move, and some guys talking about brokering a deal with one of Drachma's generals."

"Drachma's arming itself?" Ed asked. He was hardly surprised; relations between Amestris and Drachma had never been good, so it just seemed like the pot was bubbling over now. "This isn't helping me, Greed."

"This next part will: they said their guy in charge of brokering the deal would be arriving soon. I'm sure the name Pride sounds familiar to you." Ed almost dropped his phone, but caught it. A pair of footsteps stopped outside the closet for a moment, and Ed waited until they moved on. "Not that it's the same kid, but-"

"Someone's rebuilding Homunculus Corp?" Ed asked, effectively cutting his informant off. "Greed, have you heard tell of a Wrath, or any recent kidnappings?"

"Definitely couldn't tell you about any kidnappings, but Wrath…familiar and eerily disturbing. I can look into it and get back to you when I'm not cleaning up this crapstorm."

"All right," Ed breathed. Greed didn't wait for any more pleasantries to end the call. Ed shoved his phone back into his pocket and opened the door warily to poke his head out. Checking to see if the coast was clear, Ed started out and walked confidently back towards the commissioner's office. He was surprised to find it even busier than when he'd left it. Feury, Armstrong, and Hawkeye were hovered over a laptop. Mustang looked up when Ed entered the room.

"What did Greed say? Anything worth using?" Ed gave a very quick glance at what Feury was doing on his computer before shrugging his shoulders.

"He gave me information, but I can't tell if it's useful or not. What exactly are you guys up to?" Ed asked. Armstrong cleared his throat rather loudly and Ed braced himself for a bone-cracking hug that didn't come.

"The officer that Tru-Wrath, impersonated was found dead by hanging in his apartment. Staged suicide like your father, I suppose," Armstrong said with a hint of melancholy.

"It's starting to look like their preferred method," Feury commented while continuing his work. "Politicians…they're always so sneaky about everything…"

"None of that answers my question," Ed enunciated, continuing to look skeptically at the trio. Mustang sat up.

"I had Armstrong look into what happened at the prison," he answered, well, it was more like a growl. "Wrath was the pretty little distraction. Bait, as it were."

"After comparing prison reports, we found that there was, in fact, a prisoner missing," Armstrong said. From Ed's cursory glance, it seemed like the muscular detective really didn't want to admit what had happened.

"Solf J. Kimblee," Mustang finished for his subordinate.

"That nutjob's back on the streets? !" Ed said before he could collect his thoughts. "Oh yeah…they dropped the death penalty. So, why wasn't he in a more secure prison?"

"Because Kimblee is a good actor, always has been," Mustang told him. There was a light chuckle on his lips, but it was a rather humorless one. "If we hadn't been so preoccupied with Wrath and Father, Kimblee wouldn't have the lead he has. To answer your question, though: we're trying to find any linking of funds with Father or Kimblee that may connect or explain where he's going."

Ed scratched his head, mulling over the older man's words. For some odd reason, Greed's words came back to him. Pride was coming to broker a deal with Drachma. If that were true, and Wrath and the mysterious Sloth were working for Father, it stood to reason that so, too, did Pride. Of course, it also meant there were four more people working for Father, but Ed figured they should focus on the ones at hand. Pride…Ed mused. Hawkeye had told him Selim Bradley was dead, so that meant a new Pride was in play…perhaps Wrath had made certain that a new Pride was in play. And a careful politician and strategist like Father would make certain nothing would blow back on him.

"Greed said a man named Pride was about to broker a weapons deal with a Drachman general," Ed told them all deliberately. "Trace the funds to Drachma and we may have confirmation."

"We'll start with the general," Feury said. Ed moved around, squeezing between Hawkeye and Armstrong (which was no small feat) in order to watch Feury go to work. It took a bit of time, but the blond chemist watched as Feury gained access to the full list of personnel in the Drachman Army. After a bit of searching, he found an itinerary that matched Ed's theory on a General Ivan (and some last name that Ed couldn't pronounce). It took even longer after that to find the bank records of said general.

"There," Hawkeye pointed out, noticing the odd pair of transactions in the last month. "There's a large deposit of cenz converted to Drachma currency that was withdrawn twice in the last month. The first date coincides with the bank robbery."

"Father wanted it to look like Drachma was funding the vigilante," Mustang commented. He actually sounded a little impressed, which sickened Ed, but was an otherwise objective opinion.

"Yeah…he also routed it through so many shell companies, it would take me weeks just to parse through all the data," Feury informed them. "Same thing with the path of the withdrawal. I could spend all day here and we'd still have no definitive proof that Ather is behind all this."

"We don't have weeks," Mustang concluded simply. Ed was grateful to hear the man say that; it meant that his family was at the forefront of the commissioner's mind. The dark-haired man leaned forward with his head on his fist before he chuckled softly under his breath. "He's just like his mother; a brilliant strategist."

"Mustang, this is hardly the time to pay that bastard any compliments," Ed said, his voice on the verge of yelling.

"I'm not…but if we assume he's anything but brilliant then we're on even more of a backfoot," Mustang said stoically. "Truth be told, he's already had the forethought of splitting our forces. If Hohenheim and Drake are connected, then Drake's death was done by him, causing me to send two of my best east. Now there's this Drachma business. I have no idea what he's really using Drachma for, but right now he's breaking us apart."

"It's still something, sir," Hawkeye reminded him quietly. "How do you propose we follow it?"
Ed watched as Mustang's gaze sharpened on various objects in his office while he contemplated his best course of action. Eventually, he turned back to Ed with a smirk on his face. "Fullmetal, how well do you know Chief Olivier?"

"Well enough to keep my distance from her," Ed shot back instantly. Realizing who was standing next to him, he added as an afterthought, "No offense, Armstrong."

"None taken," Alex answered with unmitigated fear in his voice. Mustang appeared to consider this statement, but shrugged nonetheless.

"Works for me. You're heading north."

"Uh…no I'm not," Ed argued back. "For one thing, I don't have northern automail equipped, and for another, I'm getting my family back!"

"I'll make sure you do," Mustang countered, "but I'm planning on going after Wrath, and I can't have you or your hot temper fucking things up. If you want to work this case, you're heading north. You'll work with Olivier to find Kimblee. We find Kimblee, we get leverage on Father. We do that, we find your family."

"You…" Ed spluttered various incoherent sounds after that, but eventually decided on pointing a finger angrily at the man. "Fine, but you better make sure my family gets back safe. And I need my damn automail."

"Don't worry, Ed. I don't want to lose your family, either."

Yeah, Ed though bitterly, because if you did, you'd lose your job. He realized the dark line of thought that was taking him down, and he cleared it with a shake of his head just as an officer knocked on the door. Mustang looked up from the call he was making to East PD in order to call the officer in.

"Sorry, sir," the officer apologized meekly, "but there's an Alphonse Elric here to see you." Mustang's eyes slid over with an incredulous and accusing gaze to Ed, who shrugged with a little smirk. He may not have been able to be part of the search for Wrath, but involving his brother, who he trusted far more, was a stroke of brilliance. Mustang sighed.

"Yeah, bring him in," the commissioner replied. He followed that up with a conversation to an East PD officer to bring Ed's cold weather automail to Central. It was a discomforting thought, but it looked like Ed really was heading north. When Mustang finished his call, Ed noticed him sink into a haze of thought, as though he were contemplating something that perhaps he shouldn't. The door cracked open once again and Al stepped into the room, looking sheepish.

"Hey, Alphonse," Feury greeted. Al waved before shaking Hawkeye's hand. Ed had forgotten that his younger brother hadn't spoken to them all in years. "How've you been?"

"All right," Al answered. He turned to his brother with a questioning look on his face, though what the question was, Ed wasn't sure. "It's pretty snug in here. What's going on?"
"We know who hired someone to kill dad," Ed stated. "He's the same guy who kidnapped Winry and the kids."

"You're not arresting him?" came the confused question.

"Not with so little evidence," Ed spat. "We can't even prove that he was behind it. So, I'm heading north to track down one of his people. Hopefully it pays off, but I hardly know where to start."

"Brother," Al called sternly, making Ed turn his head, "what are you not telling me?" Ed sucked his lips in; how could he tell Al that the man setting out to ruin their lives was their half-brother? The whole notion was inconceivable. He was spared the agony by Mustang.

"Fullmetal, get ready to hate me," he said, picking the phone up.

"I already treat you with disdain, so it's hardly a leap," Ed said, passing the statement off. It didn't stop his stomach from clenching at the implication of what the man meant. "What are you up to?"

"We're up against a killer that managed to conceal himself from seasoned detectives for years. Kimblee is shrewd and a more than capable killer," Mustang explained. "So, if we want to track him down, we'll have to use someone that was trying to do so for years. Fight a criminal with a criminal…or a serial killer with a serial killer, as it were."

Ed stared at the commissioner, trying to figure out just what he was implying. By the time he understood, Mustang was dialing the number and listening to it ring. The color drained from Ed's face and he surged forward to slam his hands on the desk. "No! No way! I'm not working with him!"

"Sorry, Fullmet-yes, hi, this is Commissioner Mustang," Mustang said confidently over the phone. Ed started grinding his teeth, his breath practically seething as he glared daggers at the man. It sounded a lot like noise while Roy made small talk with whoever was on the other end. When they finally got down to business, Ed's presence of mind returned. "Is Prisoner 5791 eligible for a work furlough? Oh, in two weeks…Do you think you could move that up? We believe he has expert knowledge that could help us with a case. Excellent. I'll have two officers pick him up and bring him to East City." As he finished the phone call, Roy motioned for Hawkeye to make the call. The dignified chief left the room with a light bow.

"Brother, what exactly is going on here?" Al asked, He wasn't the only one with a look of confusion. Ed, on the other hand, was a writhing mass of anger. If he could, he would reach across the table and throttle the commissioner.

"You fucking asshole," Ed breathed, while Mustang stared up at him unflinchingly. "I'm not working with Scar."

"That's your choice, Ed," Mustang said. The expression on his face didn't change even once, indicating that his mind was more than made up. "I know your reasons for hating Scar, and I have just as many, but Scar chased after Kimblee for years. Even if he didn't know the man by face or name, no one else knows that psychopath's mind better than him."

"You really think I can work with him? He killed Winry's parents!"

"And he killed even more officers, but right now, I'm willing to make a deal with devil if it means stopping his boss," Mustang insisted. Ed's fists continued to clench. With every wave of rage that settled down inside, another rolled over and eclipsed it. Al put a hand on his brother's arm. It was such a light touch that Ed didn't notice it at first.

"Ed, I understand how you feel," he said quietly. "But right now, what's more important: your stubbornness or your family?" Al's words finally put everything into perspective for Ed and his body unfurled. He still wasn't happy about having to work with that murderer, but if it meant rescuing his family, he knew it was a step he'd have to take. Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath that removed some of the tension from his body.

"All right," he answered the ever-stoic commissioner. "I'll work with him, but just until this case is over. Then he goes back to prison."

"I never intended otherwise," Mustang told him. Ed nodded with just a slight bit of relief. Then he left the room to wait for both his automail and the prisoner to arrive. Al followed after him in silence. Neither dared to speak, both too wound up to actually say anything. Rather, Ed watched all of the hustle and bustle of the police station go flying past him. At some point there was a news report about the escaped Wrath and Kimblee that raised the ire of just about every officer there. As evening came close to arrival, the officers from East PD arrived with his automail.

"Listen, Al," Ed began to explain as he reattached his automail, "Mustang and the others are going to try and find Wrath. I want you to help them."

"Don't worry, brother." Ed reached over and pulled his brother in for a hug, grateful to have him there. Just one family member was enough to push the despair away. Putting on his automail by himself sharply highlighted the fact that Winry was not just a phone call away. Normally, he knew he'd bitch and moan about her nagging him all the time, but for the first time in a long time, he was scared he'd never hear her voice again. Al was hugging him back now. "I will bring them back. Winry's my family, too."

"Thanks, little brother," Ed said gratefully and sincerely. He clenched his automail fist and remembered how Winry had made his leg for him when he went to work up at North PD a lifetime ago. The arm was simply made to complement the leg, but all of it was a testament to the caring and love that Winry had put into it. He was carrying her with him, and he would make damn sure that her work would help rescue her.

"Edward, it's time," Hawkeye suddenly called him. Ed clasped his brother's hand in farewell before departing to the front of the station. Hawkeye was at his side as they proceeded outside. Her lips were pursed, but Ed felt as though she was holding back on saying something. The two stopped at the top of the stone steps leading down and Ed saw the squad car resting at the bottom. Inside, he could see the vague outline of Scar in the backseat. "Be careful, and observant. You know the first rule of the north, right?"

"Survival of the fittest. You get careless, you get dead," Ed told her. "Don't worry. You don't need to babysit me like you do Commissioner Clueless." Hawkeye chuckled a little and extended her hand to him.

"We will get your family back, Ed." Ed nodded emphatically, taking the time to shake her hand before slowly and deliberately descending the steps to the car. This was not going to be a pleasant trip. Thankfully, from the way the front passenger door opened, he wouldn't have to spend the trip sitting next to Scar. In fact, he felt it would be best to ignore the murderer until they reached the north; then he'd be Chief Olivier Armstrong's problem.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Elric," greeted the bearded detective in the driver's seat. Ed scrutinized him as he closed the car door; the man looked faintly familiar, but Ed wasn't always the greatest with faces. "Mick. I once was assigned to watch over your family a long time ago."

"Oh…really? It must have been a long time ago. How do you remember it?"

Mick tapped his head indicatively. "Need a good memory to be a good detective. That must be why Chief Hawkeye assigned Liam and I to be your escorts."

"Not to mention that we're familiar with the North area," called another voice from the backseat. Ed didn't turn around to see who was saying it; nor did he want to, considering that turning around meant catching a glimpse of Scar.

"That, too," Mick laughed out nervously. "Anyway, let's get going."

Ed could not agree any more with that statement. Mick put the car into drive and shot off to the north. No one said anything and there was nary a sound of movement from the backseat. All of it suited Ed just fine and allowed him to take a much needed nap. At least in the realm of sleep, he could forget about the predicament that was his reality. That was his original thought, but the nightmares were there, reminding him that nothing was okay. No one seemed to waken him, either, so the nightmares persisted.

"Mr. Elric," Mick called loudly while shaking him awake. Ed jolted and opened his eyes to the gray wintry wonderland stretching out in front of the dashboard. In his lap was a fur-trimmed jacket, and it was no surprise as to why. "We'll be at North PD in about thirty minutes."

"It's colder than I remember," Ed said irritably while he slipped the coat on. He rubbed his hands together, realizing that he must have been out for quite a time in order to be this close to the police station.

"You and me, both," Mick said, his teeth chattering as he did so. All it did was further enhance the frigid temperature of the area. Ed's scowl returned with a vengeance. He hadn't exactly liked the north back when he worked it nigh on two decades ago, and it seemed even more forbidding now. Soon, the semi-inviting lights of the police station at the foot of Mount Briggs came into view. It was snowing, like always, which made the station's parking lot look like a uniform blend of vanilla frosting with the way the snow was sitting on the cars. It was doubly so under the night sky. "All right. They should be waiting for us inside, and I'm ready for a hot pot of coffee."

"Hope you've got a hundred cenz," Ed murmured, kicking the door of the car open. It was even colder outside of the car and Ed pulled the jacket tighter around his body.

"Two hundred if you take inflation into account," Liam grunted. Ed turned back to reply to the detective when he saw Scar's familiar white hair beginning to emerge from the car. The blond refused to look anymore, instead kicking at the snow as he tromped over to the doors to the station.

Entering inside was sweet relief from the blizzard-like conditions outside and Ed shook all of the liberal amount of snow off his coat and hood just as Liam and Mick came inside themselves, bringing more snow with them. Both of them uttered the same sentiments that Ed was thinking while the hulking figure between them remained silent, only lightly brushing off the snow on his longcoat. Ed continued to ignore him, but it quickly became impossible when Mick left to go find someone in charge and Liam began to yawn. Scar appeared to think that this was the most appropriate time to speak.

"It's been a long time, Edward Elric," he said softly. Ed felt his body tense from his brain down to his toes, knowing that it was finally time to stop avoiding the inevitable. Accepting this, Ed turned around and was staring almost eye to eye with the man that had killed Winry's parents. He hardly looked any different than he had seventeen years ago, except for a few wrinkles by his eyes, longer hair and a very unattractive scruff on his face. However, the biggest difference wasn't in his physical appearance, but in a strange, newfound calmness in his eyes. The two may have only met twice, but Ed would never forget his eyes, and these weren't the same.

"Could be longer," Ed finally said. Scar instantly picked up on the mood that Ed was in and he lowered his eyes a fraction. "Personally, I don't think we need your help."

"I agree," he said, his voice raising in volume just a little.

"Why does it piss me off when you agree with me?" Ed snapped. He was throwing all the anger he had at the man, but Scar didn't flinch once. Nor did his expression, for that matter, which only served to enhance Ed's anger. "If you know that, why are you here?"

"Atonement," was the reply. This caused a vein in Ed's face to tick just a little. What was up with this guy and his one word answers? Not that Scar appeared to talk much before, but this was ridiculous. "I've been in prison for almost two decades. It's made me think about things: my purpose, my methods. I sacrificed a lot in order to kill the man responsible for my brother's death."

"Like your humanity?" Ed told him, his voice dripping with venom. "I don't forgive you, you know."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Scar immediately responded, surprising Ed. "What I've done to innocents is unforgivable, and I have much to answer for in my life. I hope to find my purpose in moving forward."

Ed scoffed loudly. He couldn't believe a single word this man said, but at the same time Scar's eyes didn't indicate that he was lying. He decided to test Scar's words. "How do I know you're not just trying to kill Kimblee?"

"I am going to kill Kimblee," Scar said, almost shocking Ed with his bluntness. "Not for vengeance, but for everything he is, everything I might have been if not for that day in East City. For that, Kimblee is a man who must die." The scowl continued to play on Ed's face, his lips twisting around in the void of having nothing to say. "I'm also doing it for your family."

"What do you know about my family?" Ed demanded, forgetting his inside voice for that moment.

"Just a little…you talked in your sleep." The scowl became an almost pouting frown as he stepped back from the man. "I owe you that much, and I owe your wife even more."

"Y-yeah, well, I don't want your help!" Ed insisted, just a little embarrassed at how courteous Scar was being. He was grateful for the distraction of a gray haired detective poking his head out from the bullpen.

"Is that you, Edward?" Ed smirked and waved his hand at the approaching man.

"Good to see you again, Officer Falman," the blond greeted. Vato Falman, or the walking computer, was someone who had changed very little in the near twenty years since he'd worked at North PD. Other than a little more gray and some tired lines by his eyes, he was the spitting image of himself when he was younger. Although, it was still fair to say that Ed only had more contact with Falman that the other officers at North PD by virtue of the man having once been a part of Mustang's team. They had certainly worked together more than once.

"Come on, you know I'm a detective!"

"You'll always be Officer Falman to me," Ed insisted with a smile. Falman gave a resigned sigh and reached over to shake Ed's hand. The ex-forensics specialist appreciated Falman's docile nature, which was a much better comfort than-

"Well, well, it's been a while, Fullmetal Runt." A shiver ran down Ed's spine at the cool, deep tones of the woman striding down the hallway. The worst part was that he knew it wasn't from the cold. He was scared. There had only ever been one person as frightening as his teacher, enough to get away with taking jabs at his height, and that person was Chief Olivier Mira Armstrong of the North PD. Age had treated her well, and she looked as graceful and commanding as she had when Ed first walked into the station up north, twenty years ago. Her long blonde hair was flowing freely, adding to her ever-imposing figure. "You remember Miles and Buccaneer?"

"Vividly," Ed muttered under his breath. She, thankfully, gave no reaction that she had heard. It wasn't hard to remember Miles or Buccaneer. One was a stoic Ishvalan that never seemed to take his sunglasses off and the other had a Mohawk and had more in common with a bear than an actual bear did. "How are you, chief?"

"Cut the pleasantries. We have work to do," she commanded in a clipped tone. Ed would have said something, but Olivier had already stridden past him to scrutinize Scar. "I don't like having a serial killer in my precinct. What is that idiot Mustang thinking?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons, sir," Falman piped up, always seeming to stick up for Mustang when it counted. Olivier scoffed loudly enough that it echoed around the entire hallway.

"Very well," she said with her usual frown. "While you're here, Scar, you don't move so much as a muscle unless someone asks you to. You disobey, don't forget how many guns we have in the station. Miles will be guarding you."

"Uh, that's our task, sir," Mick tried to inform her. She shot a glare that shut him up faster than she could even throw it. Her commands given, she whipped back around and beckoned for the others to follow. Unlike when Ed had arrived at Central, no one seemed to really care about this large group parading through the station, despite how odd it looked. It wasn't lethargy, either; they just didn't care for gossip like other branches did. Eventually, Olivier stopped and sat at a desk that Ed presumed was Falman's from the exasperated sound he made.

"So, what are you doing here, Fullmetal?" she demanded once she seemed comfortable. Ed blinked, uncertain as to why she wanted to have such a sensitive discussion out here. While she waited for his answer, Olivier picked up a photo of Falman's family and looked it over appraisingly. When Ed hadn't answered, she turned back to him. "Speak already. I have nothing to hide from my men. They've already been relayed the basics as told to me by Chief Hawkeye."

"Then you know everything," Ed told her, not sure why she bothered asking the question in the first place. Olivier crossed her fingers in her lap and glared at Ed with all the ferocity of a bear hunting down a rabbit. The blond consultant swallowed and decided it was best to actually answer her question. "We're here to track down Kimblee, who escaped from prison a couple of nights ago. Mustang instated me as consultant to help with the investigation."

"And what makes you think he came north?"

"We…uh, we traced the money funding the breakout to a general in Drachma. Apparently, they're about to have some kind of weapons deal." Olivier continued to scrutinize his face. Ed was almost sweating, his coat becoming uncomfortable. It hadn't been a total lie, but it wasn't like it was the full truth, either. The northern chief sighed a moment later and ended her examination.

"Yes, that doesn't surprise me," she stated. "There've been rumors on the street lately that something was about to go down with Drachma. Nothing concrete until now. Tell me, Scar, you know Kimblee best. Where would he set up a meet?"

"I couldn't say," Scar told them. The answer didn't please Olivier. It didn't please Ed, either. "However, if I had to guess, Baschool would be the most logical place. It's large, with a lot of hidden places…too many to search unless you know how to look."

"This is just a guess, though?" Olivier interrupted, a frown evident. "Well, then I guess we're stuck."

"What do you mean, 'we're stuck'?" Ed asked incredulously. He knew better than to challenge the Ice Queen of the North PD, but Kimblee was the best link to his family and he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers so easily. Olivier leveled another glare at Ed without even moving from the seat.

"I'm not wasting my men's time or resources on some wild goose chase. If I'm going to deploy them, it will be because I have solid evidence that Kimblee is in Baschool. Hearsay and guesswork are useless, or does Mustang teach otherwise?" Ed couldn't say anything, his mouth and fists trying too hard to restrain themselves from doing something they'd regret. "Henschel, is there a reason you keep sulking back there?"

"Sorry, sir," a man said from behind the group. "It's just…there's a woman here who says she has information on Solf J. Kimblee's location."

"Does she?" the chief asked, her raised eyebrow perfectly conveying her thoughts. "Very well, bring her in."

At this moment, Olivier finally stood and began walking towards where Henschel had exited. Ed followed after her, prepared to argue on her mobilization decision when this supposed informant walked through the door. He stopped, the sweat on his face increasing as the blood drained from it. The woman noticed him, as well, and offered a gleaming smile.

"Hello, Ed. What a surprise to see you here!"

Ed was ready to faint. Her face, her voice, the way she held herself. Now, he knew he wasn't crazy, because Trisha Elric was definitely right in front of him.


Author's Note: It was so much fun to write Olivier again, she's such a harsh and blunt badass. Anyway, Scar and Kimblee are back in play. I didn't get to work with them much in the first story, so I brought them in here to help close out the series, no matter how large their role is. I hope you enjoyed that twist, and the ending. There isn't much else to say. So, for now, I'm just going to ask you to Review and Dare to Be Silly.