.:Ten:.

Things Only Get Worse from Here

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The biting autumn air whipped across Ed's face as he furiously spread the paint onto the smooth pavement. The heaviness in the pit of his stomach had only grown since they'd come down to the plaza to begin work on the array. He was trying desperately not to think about their foolish plan, as though by focusing on the scrawled painting he might imagine away what was coming next.

Al was working diligently beside him, his attention focused and alert, but his skin still had an ashen tint to it that Ed didn't like.

Ed swore to himself under his breath, more to dispel his pent up energy than anything else. "Brother," Al warned without taking his eyes off of the array.

Around them, officers flocked to and fro according to their orders, bearing cumbersome loads of guns or sandbags. The area was peppered with stations for heavy artillery and makeshift fortifications. Mustang and his men were ensuring that everyone gave the center of the plaza a wide berth, especially after a soldier had been careless enough to tread on a portion of the array and Ed had nearly torn him a new one.

His thoughts were wandering away from the array again, and Ed shook his head as if to clear his mind. The sigil for time and duration, followed by a link to the center to connect it to where Al had painted the seals for balance and strength. The designs began to layer like scaffolding across the ground.

He had done this a thousand times in his mind already, and he knew it all by heart. Even with the detail needed for the outer rings, there was not much to draw his attention.

"We've got the support of all the generals," Breda was reporting from somewhere behind him. "Even with as few details as we've given them. They don't understand all of it, but there's nothing to be done—this is the only workable plan. We've already lost half of Arkene's men, and we're likely to keep losing more if we don't do something."

"I imagine they've also realized that Edward and the Brigadier-General know the most about alchemy," Hawkeye said wryly. "Otherwise, I doubt they'd defer to someone below their own standing."

"And the heavy artillery and ammunition?" Mustang asked, sounding pressed.

A pause. Shuffling footsteps. "Hakuro's made a mess of things, sir," Breda said. "We haven't got all the guns we really need. Men, yes, but without the guns…"

"Why hasn't he pulled the guns from the east division of Central, as requested?"

"Well, sir, he's—not so ready to defer to us, even with your and Ed's reputations. He didn't stop the generals, but he doesn't seem to like the idea of letting you go at things on your own…"

"What does that mean for us?" Hawkeye asked. "We've got some of the weaponry, but…"

A slow, pained exhale. "We'll be working twice as hard on the ground. It'll be tough keeping it on the plaza if it's really trying to get out."

It wasn't fair.

"Fuck Hakuro," Ed spat vehemently all of a sudden, leaning back on his knees to turn and face the surprised officers. "Is he the one who'll be running around getting attacked from all directions? He's sitting on his ass somewhere in headquarters, and he thinks he can call all the shots?"

"That's generally how it works, boss," Breda said, without bite.

"He might at least pretend he's not keeping the heavy weapons to defend himself in case this all goes South," Al remarked with a huff as he paused to wipe sweat from the side of his face.

"Besides, if he was worth anything as a leader, he'd be down here in the rubble with the rest of us, with the rest of his men," Ed grumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mustang's lips twitch in a faint smirk. "Nobody was talking about you, Mustang," he added, grinning in spite of himself.

"You might not end up being all that useful anyway," Breda murmured, peering up at the storm clouds that had blanketed the sky above.

Mustang sighed heavily. "No one will ever let me forget that," he said calmly, though he fingered his gun as though to ensure that it was still in his holster where he'd left it.

"Shit," Al breathed. Ed looked at his brother, surprised, before following Al's gaze. Emerging slowly from the side of a building was a great, barbed creature covered in sharp grey thorns that drew ragged lines in the bricked walls; from the next street over rolled an even larger being with a wickedly large mouth. "It's brought friends."

The Leviathan itself was nowhere in sight, but the thrum of the artillery had grown louder—it was being pushed closer to the plaza, and it was only a matter of time before it, too, made its presence known.

"Hurry," Ed said, tearing his eyes away from the monsters to resume his painting at a frantic pace. Anyone else might scorn the small details that made the array look beautiful to an outsider, but Ed knew they were necessary—exact lettering that spoke of the purpose of the array or little designs that called for balance and strength and that repeated over and over again like prayers. He lost himself in the work, and for several minutes, there was nothing but the rough scribbles of the paintbrush in his hand and the calculated shapes and lines.

When he next looked up, they were nearly alone in the plaza. The soldiers had migrated toward the Beasts, aiming their guns from strategic angles to force the unwanted creatures back.

The Leviathan, however, was being pressed forward—as much as possible for a creature of such immense size. Ed's breath caught in his throat. He'd only been this close to the Leviathan twice before, and each of them had ended badly for him. If nothing else, he'd come to respect the strength of the looming Beast.

In truth, the creature was almost unassuming at first glance. It was an enormous, nebulous blob of swirling dark purples and blacks. Sprouting from its gelatinous sides were a number of thin tendrils that reached out to clutch the sides of buildings and poles as though to support it—which must have been the case, as it was propped up only by four thin, spindly legs that should not have been able to support its weight (and yet cracked the pavement where it trod).

But beyond this was a deep, enthralling power that radiated from its skin, one that sucked Ed's eyes toward the dark being. The air near the creature crackled with sparks and, higher in the clouds above, lightning.

It was enough to make Ed's hair stand on end, and he clearly wasn't alone. Most of the soldiers were giving the Leviathan a wide berth, having been warned, no doubt, of the dangers of coming into contact with it. Others were standing still, wide eyes focused on the creature, whose dark colors swirled bewitchingly inside the soft gel of its skin.

Ed felt himself drawn to the Beast in the same way. He stood, letting the brush drop from his limp fingers, the booms of the heavy artillery ringing in his ears.

It was time to begin.

He sprang forward, a burst of energy springing from God only knew where, but paused when he heard his name shouted at his back. Turning, he found his brother pinning him under the gaze of bright hazel eyes.

"Brother," Al said firmly, "if you die—if you leave me again—" he broke off, unable to finish. Maybe there were no words for what might happen.

Ed nodded somberly. "You too," he said simply. He turned around, his feet carrying him toward the feeling of power, of energy. As he threaded his way through the officers at the edge of the plaza, he began to feel the first drops of rain strike him on the back. The Leviathan was getting nearer now, and Ed had to reach the top of the administration building.

He spun around automatically when he saw a familiar face to one side. The eye patch made it difficult to make out Mustang's expression as he shouted orders to a group of soldiers, but Ed could imagine the determined, almost arrogant firmness of his features.

"Mustang!" he shouted suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

His commanding officer looked surprised. "Fullmetal?"

Ed hardly paused for breath. "If anything happens to Al, I'll tear you apart with my bare hands," he warned.

Mustang only gave him an odd smile and nodded.

Ed hesitated before turning on his heel and running off toward the line of buildings. Before he could quite rebuke himself for wasting time on stupid remarks, he came to an abrupt halt, turned once more, and spat out as though it were painful, "Take care of yourself, Mustang."

The man's eyebrow rose, and he nodded again. As Ed ran off, he thought he heard Mustang add something, but it was lost somewhere in the chaos.

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Waves of electricity, power, something rolled over him, making him both tense and energetic. He paced anxiously atop the administrative building, his feet instinctively bringing him closer to the edge until he redirected his steps. The rain had soaked him to the bone, and the storm had made the skies impossibly dark, but the heavy, booming gunfire filled the air with the smell of gunpowder and illuminated the area in bursts of bright light, allowing Ed to see the scene below.

The Beast had gotten closer, its power sparking in the air around him as the soldiers darted around like insects at its feet, avoiding its touch while pumping it full of lead. Tendrils reached out to support the Beast, slowly eating away at whatever they came into contact with an acidic burn. A steady barrage of bullets forced the creature toward where Ed now stood—which was simultaneously what he wanted and what terrified him—until it was stumbling halfway onto the plaza.

Below, a small figure bent over the array in the middle of the plaza, painting steadily without looking up. Ed clenched and unclenched his fists in rhythm.

It was a long way down, and there was really only one shot at this. If by some miracle he missed the Beast and survived, they might not get another chance; it might be hard to tell where the Leviathan kept its brain, but it still had one, and it was unlikely to fall for the same trick twice.

Still, he was really not looking forward to this. It was closer now, only a few yards from the wall, and the arm-like tendrils stretched out to grip the nearby ledge for support.

As he watched the dance of the soldiers, the guns, and the Beast, Ed realized that most people had probably not been told this part of the plan. The soldiers' target was the array, but even in the darkness, Ed could make out a few questioning faces that peered up at the lone figure on the roof of the building.

And then the beast was nearly close enough to touch; he could tell when it made contact with the stone walls by the acidic stench of something burning and the flickering sound of something like lightning or sparks of electricity. Ed couldn't make out the frantic faces peering up at him, but he knew they were down there.

Alright, Ed thought to himself, time to give them a show. He leapt into the air before he could give himself any more time to think, and he sank into its skin effortlessly, sliding to a halt a few feet in.

The first thing he registered was intense pain—he couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and the throb of energy was nearly unbearable. It was all he could do not to curl into a ball against the bursts of pain that attacked from all sides. The Leviathan was moving around him; he could feel the nebulous gelatin ooze past his face as the Beast jerked and throbbed, throwing a tantrum against this foreign matter that had invaded it.

It was hard for Ed to focus past his aching body. I have to stop it, he reminded himself, then began chanting, go for the heart, go for the heart, go for the fucking heart. The swearing made things easier. His mind cleared enough for him to begin using his automail limbs, which thankfully did not register the pain, to wade through the slippery gel. His lungs hurt—how long had he been in here? Not long enough to panic, he assured himself, for what good it did.

He righted himself, struggling in the direction that he thought must be the center, down and to one side. It grew darker here, the murky violet swirls deepening to become as black as pitch, and he knew he was close by the way the pulses of energy pulsed more frequently, pushed at him as though the Leviathan wanted him out.

He thrust his metal arm around him frantically, searching through the thick gel as his senses began to dim and his lungs caught fire. It was around here; it had to be. He couldn't see it, but...but the Beast was huge, and he could have easily missed it, even though he'd aimed…

It wasn't there. It wasn't. He struggled, more slowly now, reaching out blindly, but there was nothing. He began to think the worst until his knee struck something solid.

He jolted, mostly out of the pain of a shot of pure alchemic energy and partly out of surprise. In the total darkness, he felt around madly for the heart, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming pain. There was no time. Regardless, he gingerly wrapped his arm around the heart, steeling himself for the bursts of energy. As soon as he had a good grip, he began writhing downwards toward the ground. Or in the direction he thought was down.

At the most inappropriate time and as dazed as he was, he foggily remembered stories he'd been told of drowning sailors. Of men were lost so deep in the ocean that they couldn't right themselves. Couldn't think straight. Swam down to their doom with the notion that they were swimming up toward their ship…

Was that true…? Who had told him that…?

It had been too long. He tried to breathe despite himself, but the gel was too thick—he was suffocating. He swore that the thick gel was lighter…but maybe he had judged wrong…his thoughts were as sluggish as his movements…

He clutched the heart more tightly against his side with his automail arm. It sparked with angry power against his skin, eating through his skin, burrowing into his flesh and into his organs until his entire body throbbed with pain. He was being burned, being eaten. He couldn't remember anymore.

There was a fire, except that his flesh hand felt odd, cold. Light.

Something grabbed it and tugged, once, hard.

Suddenly, fresh air invaded his lungs; he gasped for breath, spasming in the pain of the heart beside him. Blurred movement—arms clutched and dragged him, and he blearily made out the dark shape of the massive Leviathan as it groaned and collapsed on top of the ground where he'd just been.

A pounding on his chest, and a rhythmic sound. Was that him? It was. He was coughing, choking on his own breath.

Havoc's face swam into view, his hair plastered to his forehead under the heavy rain.

"Shit, Boss," he breathed, his eyes wide. "That was a hell of a scare."

Ed panted something unintelligible, pushing the heavy heart a few inches from the ground where he sat. "Don't…touch," he managed weakly.

"Got it," Havoc said. "Boss, you're shaking—and your shirt!"

Ed looked down. Where he'd clutched the heart to his side was a hole in the fabric. The edges were black, and beneath it, the skin was read and raw. He took a moment to inspect the heart which pulsed in time with the throbs of pain in his side. It was roughly the length of his hand and deep black, darker than any stone he'd ever seen. As he stared, he began to notice violet swirls that worked their way round it, squirming endlessly in the irregular grooves.

He realized suddenly that it was relatively quiet; the fading sound of gunfire echoed from somewhere behind the buildings across from the plaza, but most of the struggles had ended with the collapse of the Leviathan. The stone was pulsating more wildly now, sending bursts of energy into the air and ground below. As Ed's breath returned to him, he sensed—as he had once been able to in the Gate—that the earth trembled slightly beneath him, minute shakes that would crescendo into an earthquake; the pouring storm clouds were tense with electricity and the promise of lightning; a blaze of fire was waiting to burst forth from the rubble of broken buildings.

Ed turned to find that a few dozen officers were staring at him with wide eyes. They had backed away from the foreign sensation of the energy, save Havoc, who stood resolutely at Ed's side.

"Gotta move," Ed said, grabbing the heart with a grimace and throwing his arm in the air for Havoc to help him up.

"Move?" Havoc parroted, automatically pulling the alchemist to his feet, arms slippery from the rain. He threw an arm across Ed's back when he swayed unsteadily, careful to stay away from the side with the stone.

"Heart's still active," he panted, grateful for the support. "We gotta use it up, or it'll keep on destroying everything. Gotta make the Gate."

They wove carefully around the fallen Beast, avoiding the limp legs and tendrils that stretched out like splatters of dark paint across the pavement. Havoc was careful to keep Ed on his feet, despite the fact that they seemed to want to collapse beneath him. As they rounded the side of the Beast, Ed was met with a welcome sight.

"Brother!" Al cried, leaping up from the ground and racing to Ed's side. A quick once-over showed Ed that no harm had befallen his brother, who looked tired but unhurt. Behind him stood Mustang, Hawkeye, Breda, and a few officers Ed didn't recognize. "You're alright?" Al asked worriedly.

"Fine," Ed huffed, still a bit short of breath. "You finished…?"

Al nodded. "We just need that." His gaze fell to the stone cradled against Ed's side. The same alchemy that had burned Ed's skin under the Leviathan's control now felt like a dose of home. The pulses of energy pained him only vaguely now; he felt instead as he had in the Gate, connected to and surrounded by the warmth of the alchemic energy as though he belonged there.

He realized that he missed the feeling, and that he would be almost sad to see it go.

"Yeah," he said, gruffly. "Let's get started."

With the distant shouts of pain and bursts of gunfire behind them, he and Al looked over the array one last time; a mistake now would be catastrophic. Before he had much chance to study it, a familiar feeling rose in Ed, and he felt a shudder as though through his own body.

"Brace yourselves," he warned quietly. The earthquake came quickly after, just small tremors at first that built slowly toward a throbbing shudder. Al swayed, and Havoc stretched out an arm to support Ed, but Ed felt as though he was in his element now, and this was hardly a distraction.

It wasn't the same for everyone else. "No time for double checking," someone shouted from behind. Ed looked over his shoulder to see Mustang, a firm grimace on his face. Behind him, the buildings shuddered under the pulses of energy.

Ed wordlessly strode forward and placed the heavy stone in the middle of the wide array. He crossed back, silently glancing down at the detailed lines as he felt the energy from the heart recede behind him.

At the edge of the array, he motioned for the officers to back away until it was just him and Al standing there, alone. As it was meant to be. He steeled himself for the next part, trying to push away his fear that this might not be enough, that there would need to be more of a sacrifice—

"Ready?" he asked.

"No," Al smiled.

They clapped their hands and slapped the ground simultaneously. The alchemy shot up Ed's arms at once, flowing through his blood like fire. It was the inside of the Leviathan all over again, but this time, he had enough air to scream as the power rushed through him. He faintly thought he could hear Al doing the same, but he didn't have the strength to focus on that thought.

Dazzling light blinded him for a moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut, steering his mind away from the pain and trying to regulate the alchemy's flow as it read the array and accepted its new purpose. A gate, he begged hazily. The Gate, just like it was. Take the alchemy back, but don't take anything else…

Hours later—it must have been—the alchemy began to slowly recede, rainwater cooling the burning of his skin. He shook his wet hair from his face and opened his eyes, still not daring to remove his hands from the ground or to collapse in a boneless heap as his shaking body so wanted. Al was breathing heavily next to him. Alive. They were both alive.

Wearily, Ed threw a glance over his shoulder, where Mustang and the others were frozen, staring at the fading array with wide eyes, and behind them a few dozen soldiers wandering confusedly back and forth.

"Is it over?" Mustang asked. "Did it work?"

Ed's throat was hoarse, and he didn't yet trust himself to speak. Had it worked? His exhausted mind was processing so slowly, but…he thought so. There was no alchemy. He could feel no alchemy in the vicinity, no power lingering in the earth or sky, waiting impatiently to find freedom. The rainwater was dripping more lightly down his back now, and he could feel no threat of lightning from the clouds.

Yes, he thought it had worked. He meant to nod, but at the small downward tilting of his head, the rest of his body followed it to the ground.

There was a shout of alarm, and then the feeling of hands shaking him, but Ed couldn't cling to his consciousness any longer, even at the sight of Al's worried face somewhere above him.

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A/N: Wow. Um. So. I'm so, so, so sincerely sorry that this chapter is so late, and for the late responses to reviews. It's kind of embarrassing that it's been almost a month. These last few weeks have been really insane at school and work, and it's only getting worse as finals roll around. What I wouldn't give right now for a nice, cool glass of summertime!

So after turning in the massive paper worth 75% of my grade two days ago, I finished and edited the hell out of this chapter. But when I finally had time to finish this chapter and log in to post it, I was completely overwhelmed by all of the amazing and kind reviews! Seriously, guys, I'm really touched by all you've said, and I'm so glad you've enjoyed the story so far! We're almost at the end; just the epilogue is left. So hang on tight while I wrap everything up!

Please leave a note to let me know what you thought!

~ket

Next Chapter: Epilogue—Crisis Averted and Chick Flick Moments (Which Will Never Be Spoken of Again)