Fullmetal Alchemist: Transmutation of the Unknowable

by Lacan Shinn

A small change in the sequence of events during the hunt for Isaac McDougal leads Edward and Alphonse Elric to learn the truth about Amestris before they visit Liore. Now the God within the planet's Gateway is sought by a broken alchemist born in Milos who desires to use the Truth as a tool to destroy what's real. Episode One divergent retelling of FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD.

14. The Forgotten Screw

.

CHAPTER 14:

THE FORGOTTEN SCREW

.

Ed sat against the alley wall, no longer crying. Winry was resting in his left arm, held close and tight against him, and Alphonse was sitting to her left and stroking her hair. Ed was fully aware of reality now, and alert, in case Scar or any of his companions had lured them into a trap, but Ed wasn't paying much attention to anyone but Winry. Winry's cries and shaking had subsided into intermittent trembling and shuddering and shaking and tears, but she hadn't spoken since she'd accused him of arrogance.

Granny, Hughes, Scar, a black-haired, ponytailed male in orange Edward assumed was the Xingese Prince, the black-suited girl who had brought him to Winry, and another black-suited person Ed assumed was another of the Prince's servants, were standing near the opposite alley wall, where Granny was telling Scar about Sarah Rockbell and Yuriy Rockbell.

"I'm not going to attack you like Winry did," Granny spoke, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and accept what you did to my children. I want you to fully be aware of how innocent they were, so you have to live with the complete knowledge of what you've done for the rest of your life."

Scar nodded, expression indecipherable. "Very well."

Julia was sitting next to Al, obviously trying to offer him silent support with her presence.

Edward had no hope it was working, however. The beyond nightmare was over, but its end had brought about a beyond nightmare that was measurelessly worse in too many ways to count.

Further, now that the knowledge of what Winry had attempted to do was genuinely sinking in, he had become aware of something else that was just as unforgivable as how he'd warped Winry.

She'd learned how her parents had died, and they'd been killed by someone whose life they had saved, and experienced all the anguish that had resulted from discovering those things, and because he'd gotten her captured, he hadn't been there to support her at that time. She'd experienced a nightmare just as bad as the one Al lived outside of the knowledge she'd attempted murder, and he hadn't even known she was going through it.

He'd just begun to comprehend the depths of the new beyond nightmare reality had become when he'd learned Winry had attempted to kill Scar, and it was no doubt the same with Al. His brother was still beyond comfort, and in multiple ways even more past support than before.

But there should have been something he could think of to comfort Winry about the deaths of her parents. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, and what things made the grief more bearable, and he'd been there when Winry had learned her parents had died. He knew how she felt about her bereavement. He shouldn't have been powerless to say anything this time. So why couldn't he think of something?

Then his eyes widened, and his stomach twisted violently.

He didn't know what to say because he hadn't been aware how Winry felt about the loss of her parents all these years. He wouldn't have thought her capable of breaking down as severely as she had if she hadn't been held prisoner for weeks and possibly tortured, or experimented on. All of these years, he'd been ignorant about how his best friend felt and thought, and he didn't understand it now. That was why he didn't know what to say.

For an unknown reason, it felt wrong to think of Winry as his best friend now, but that wasn't important at present.

What was important was he'd destroyed her. What was important was he hadn't been there for her. What was important was he was an ignorant idiot.

He didn't know if he'd learned to accept the Truth? He still hadn't even yet learned what it was to confront it. He was no seeker of the truth. He'd known nothing about how one of the closest people to him genuinely felt about one of the things that mattered most to her.

He'd come to understand how she thought and felt, about her parents and anything else he didn't understand within her, and dispense with his ignorance about reality, but as usual, it was too late.

Do you still believe you can save Al and Winry and everyone else from the one called Father?

Yes.

Because he had to now more than at any time before. If he believed he had no chance of saving them, or a sliver of a chance, that would be the end. He'd keep walking to try to take care of Al, and support Winry, for whatever that was worth, but he would no longer be walking on legs.

Assuming he still was now, now that he was unsure he could take care of Al.

He was still going to try to. He would never stop trying to take care of Al. But he honestly wasn't sure he could now that he knew what he'd done to Winry.

But he was going to try. In addition, even though it appeared wholly insane to try now that he'd discovered what he'd done to Winry, he wasn't just going to try with Al. There was utterly no choice. Winry and Granny would be in danger every day unless he was able to defeat the one called Father, and Winry needed support now more than she had before at any point in her life. So he had to continue to attempt to protect Winry and Granny, and to attempt to take care of them too.

And he had to believe there was as reasonable a chance he could, as well, as he had to believe there was a reasonable chance he could save Amestris, or the same terror would eat him.

"I'd like to ask you something, Scar," Hughes' voice drew more of Edward's attention to the people standing in the alley. Granny must have finished her stories of her children. "Why did you save Winry? Was it out of guilt for killing her parents?"

"It had nothing to do with who her parents were," Scar replied. "I had infiltrated Laboratory Three with my companions from Xing in search of the answers to why the government ordered my people dead, and to assist my companions in unlocking the secret of immortality." Edward suppressed the urge to swear. He was in no mood to deal with even more people who wanted to practice forbidden alchemy now. "But when Prince Ling and I came upon Winry and Pinako, we knew we had to abandon our search to free them. We couldn't abandon people in need for the sake of our personal goals."

So Scar wasn't as much of a bastard as Ed had thought he was. He didn't care, though. Scar had murdered Nina, murdered Winry's parents, and his confession had caused Winry to attempt murder. He wasn't as much of a bastard as Edward had thought, but he was a monster.

"The Fϋhrer was hiding them in Laboratory Three, huh?" Hughes asked rhetorically. "So he learned from Doctor Marcoh's attempt to hide in plain sight and tried the same thing himself, imprisoning the Rockbells somewhere so close to the free world no one would think to look for them there.

"I'm sorry to hear you didn't learn why your people were butchered, but we can tell you."

"There's no need for that," Scar spoke. "Lan Fan and Fu," he gestured at the two black-suited figures, "Overheard a discussion between two of the people working with those who massacred the Ishvalans. We know why. To transmute a Philosopher's Stone out of everyone within Amestris, so the father of the family that really rules Amestris can control the world's knowledge."

Hughes' eyebrows rose. "He wants his special Stone to control the world's knowledge? I wasn't aware of that part." He looked at Edward and Alphonse. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes," Ed replied. "We found out about it from a member of the family who struck out on his own in Dublith."

The person who was clearly Ling looked at Ed with interest. "How much do you know about this family, and the world's knowledge?"

"They're Homunculi," Edward responded, and Ling's and Hughes' eyes widened. "Artificial humans born through transmutation."

"I know what a Homunculus is," Ling said back. "What else are you aware of?"

"That's all I'm willing to tell you," Ed responded, challenging Ling with his eyes to attempt to force more information out of them. "You shouldn't be getting involved with the Homunculi. Forbidden alchemy is forbidden for a reason. The ingredient for the Philosopher's Stone should prove that."

"It does," Ling responded. "But everyone in my clan is relying on me to raise them to prosperity. I can't afford to abandon immortality because of the price involved.

"Nevertheless, I won't compel you to tell me what you know. Under regular circumstances I would, but the Rockbells don't need to see my retainers beat the information out of you at present. I'll return for you if accompanying Scar doesn't fill in enough of the gaps in what Fu and Lan Fan overheard."

"Do your worst," Ed challenged.

Ling smiled.

"I wouldn't be so willing to turn things unpleasant," Hughes interjected. "The Elrics and I need to work with Scar ourselves." Winry's eyes widened and she looked up, too many emotions on her face to read any of them. "He's the younger brother of a late Ishvalan alchemist who may have known what the government and its masters are doing, and where we can find evidence that will expose them. We all need to cooperate. You two should reach a compromise."

Edward ground his teeth. He wanted intensely to argue because Greed had told them most of the things the one called Father and High Command were doing, and where to find the base of the one called Father, they didn't need Scar now. But Ed knew that wasn't true. Greed hadn't known what the Homunculi had wanted the imperfect Stones for, and no one had spoken of it, but there was a possibility they wouldn't find any evidence in the underground complex. They still needed to know what Scar's brother had been aware of.

"That would serve no purpose," Scar spoke up. "I won't assist former State Alchemists, and a member of the military, whether you too want to see these Homunculi stopped or not. I won't go after Elric, and I'll leave Mustang be unless he did know High Command wanted my people dead from the start, but I'll never cooperate with you or them. I'll take my own road to defeat the Homunculi."

"Amestrians and Ishvalans are all victims of the Fϋhrer in the same ways," Hughes argued. "The military is a victim too. You know what it's like to have been sacrificed for Bradley, so you know what it's like to be in our shoes. If you don't help us, you'll be letting what happened to your brother happen to more people."

Scar glared. "That's the second time one of you has used my brother to attempt to sway me," his tone was angry. "Don't do it again. I won't kill you, but if you use my brother against me another time I'll remind you how skilled Ishvalans are at harming their enemies without resorting to alchemy.

"Anyway, your argument is groundless. You don't need evidence to expose High Command. The word of a State Alchemist and his or her companions in the military will be enough for many civilians and soldiers in Amestris; enough you'll be able to gather a sizeable following and succeed in a revolution. You can solve your problems without any help from me."

Edward's stomach heaved violently. In the face of the knowledge Winry had attempted to murder Scar, the concept of a revolt where anyone killed another caused him to feel like he was going to retch. He couldn't take the concept of fighting at the side of others who murdered even if his own hands remained clean any longer. Any death brought about by anyone was now so horrible he couldn't describe it with language or nonverbal communication.

He knew it made him measurelessly more irresolute than he'd been at any time in his life, but he wasn't going to turn a blind eye to others killing any more. He wasn't going to let anyone else kill another. He was going to see this coup succeed without anyone on either side dying or he'd die himself making the attempt.

"We need evidence to convince most of the Amestrian military to stand with us," Hughes said. "We're trying to overthrow Bradley without sacrificing a single other life."

Scar's eyes widened, but then he gave Hughes a look that made it clear he believed Hughes had lost his mind. "Then that's even less reason for me to help you. My brother believed in peace and a world without death, and all it did was get him killed. Peace is an illusion. Humans, and no doubt Homunculi, are intolerant bigots who see those different than they themselves as their inferiors and unworthy of sharing this world with them. To attain any measure of happiness in this world, you have to secure your future over the corpses of others. You're marching to your deaths, as my brother did, and you'll never save Amestris with your idealism. I won't be a part of it."

Hughes sighed deeply. It was now obvious from Scar's tone they wouldn't be able to convince him to help them. Edward sighed heavily in relief.

Hughes glared at him, but Ed ignored it.

"Still," Scar continued, "I'll tell you this, by way of thanks for sending me down the road that enabled me to learn the true reason my people were exterminated. Maybe you already know this, but I'll offer it to you in gratitude. The Homunculi and High Command are transmuting an army of humanoid mannequins the Homunculi have claimed High Command can use to make Amestris the glorious master of the planet. The Fϋhrer may intend to give them life with Philosopher's Stones."

Edward's stomach twisted violently. So that was what the imperfect Stones might be for. A means of giving artificial constructs that, like Alphonse, could keep moving even after taking injuries that would have incapacitated a human, souls without performing human transmutation.

In addition, that meant there was a greater possibility the souls in a Stone were still alive. Perhaps they weren't still partially or fully aware, but it was now more likely they were still alive. But Ed experienced no worry. Even if he had still been certain he wanted his body back, even if Al had wanted his body back, it would no longer have been a question if they could transmute with existing Stones. Not after Winry had attempted to kill Scar. It didn't matter if the souls were dead, or fully or partially unaware, or couldn't be restored to their bodies. If they were dead they would have still existed in this dimension in a sense, so using them would be no different than using living souls. Whether or not they were still alive, using them was no different than harming and murdering any other humans, or using any other humans as if they were no more than laboratory samples. After Winry had tried to kill Scar, Ed couldn't think of using the souls in a Philosopher's Stone in any other way.

Edward was certain Al felt the same.

"This is a ruse so High Command will serve the Homunculi," Scar was continuing, "And I don't know what the mannequins are genuinely intended for, or if they have any purpose in the plans of the one called Father other than to fail to fulfill his promise to High Command, but there may be documents covering how the mannequins were transmuted and how the military intends to animate them through the souls they've sacrificed in their vicinity."

Documents that could have any mention of the Philosopher's Stone as the vehicle for feeding the mannequins souls blacked out without obscuring the majority of the wrongs the military had done by creating them. If the mannequins were meant to be controlled by prisoners who had been sentenced to death, the human sacrifices wouldn't convince the military their government was willing to take the souls of its own soldiers, but that the Fϋhrer and High Command were all criminals who had broken the law forbidding alchemical creation of humans would probably be enough to turn the military at large against their leaders. Edward's word as a well-known State Alchemist who had a reputation as being above dirty dealings should convince the military the documents weren't forged, so they'd probably get their military support.

For the first time, in spite of what he'd done to Winry and everyone else, Edward was almost sure he could believe they could succeed in saving Amestris.

Have you completely lost your mind? You know now you haven't done anything but hurt Al and Winry and others all your life, and you might not be able to take care of Al. And after you've learned this you gain this much capacity for faith you can save an entire country, and without any death!?

Edward couldn't think of a valid argument, but he pushed aside his doubts as best as he could. They had a tangible probable solution now, and when he'd had tangible probable solutions to dilemmas before he'd overcome obstacles. That meant there really was a good chance he could save Amestris without anyone dying.

Even though it may already be too late to avert death. Soldiers might have died because of you in Dublith. Further, you have this 'opportunity' because you likely sentenced Greed and an alchemist to pay the price for human transmutation. And you're thinking of this as a chance of meaningful size?

Ed didn't push those thoughts and feelings aside. To do so would be wrong. But he was still almost sure he could have faith. There was a clear light at the end of the tunnel now, as long as it was, and after he and Alphonse had spent years chasing what they'd known might be an impossibility and hadn't given up no matter how many times their travels had gotten them nowhere, that was enough for Ed's confidence to regain a small amount of what it had lost.

Further, Winry and Granny were now free. They wouldn't need to wait once they found their evidence to alert the military in general. That meant, if a number of State Alchemists needed to learn alkahestry, there wasn't as much of a chance it would take them until near the day of the solar eclipse. And if they were able to develop another plan for defeating or imprisoning the one called Father, they could launch their revolt even sooner.

But Ed felt no joy at any of this. He didn't know if he could take care of Al, and he'd ruined Winry's life. How could even the knowledge they might genuinely be able to pull this off raise his spirits when those things were true?

"If you want evidence to expose the Fϋhrer," Scar was saying, "You may find it there.

"I recommend you discard your foolish ideals, though. In all probability you'll accomplish nothing but suicide."

The Lieutenant Colonel didn't acknowledge Scar's advice. "Will you at least tell us what you plan to do?"

"I'm going to retrieve my brother's alchemy research notes from where I hid them in the Northern Region of Amestris," Scar responded. "I have reason to believe he was thoroughly studying the Philosopher's Stone extending below the surface of Amestris." Hughes' eyes widened, and then he whistled. "If he was, he may have learned something about them that will give me an advantage against the Homunculus leader."

"He knew about it," Hughes revealed. "Or at least thought it was a network of Stones. McDougal told Ed it was a network, but your brother may have been unspecific or lied about precisely what's beneath the surface because he believed the Freezer wouldn't believe him if he'd said it was a single Stone. Whether he knew its one Stone or many, however, he discovered what's underground exists to inhibit the link Amestrian alchemists have with their power source, tectonic energy. Because he was studying it so extensively, perhaps he developed a means of counteracting whatever the Stone is doing that's inhibiting that link." Edward didn't have any problems believing a transmutation could counter the effects of a Philosopher's Stone at this point. "If he did, those notes could be useful to us. I won't ask you to help us yourself, but is there any way I can convince you to show us his notes?"

"None," Scar replied. "I'm not sharing my brother's legacy with State Alchemists or the military."

Hughes sighed.

"And don't try to steal them from me. I will kill you if you interfere with me."

Hughes didn't lock eyes with Scar, but Ed knew Scar's threat hadn't dissuaded the Lieutenant Colonel. It hadn't dissuaded Ed. They needed those notes. If Scar's brother had developed a way of preventing the one called Father from warding their connection to tectonic energy, they wouldn't need to wait for State Alchemists to learn alkahestry.

Hughes turned to Ling. "What about you three? Are you going to do anything for Amestris while you're here, or are you just out for your clan in Xing?"

Ling sighed. "I'm responsible for around five hundred thousand Yao clanspeople. I can't afford to get mixed up in another nation's problems, and letting that happen would be foolish of me." Lan Fan shifted. "But whether I can afford to, or it makes me a fool, is beside the point. An entire civilization is in danger of being extinguished. If I did the smart thing, the thing I'm capable of doing, I'd be no better than the jerks in this nation who believed it didn't matter what happened to the Ishvalans because they're a different race and ethnicity. So I've got to be a stupid child with his or her head in the clouds. Better that than a reasonable adult who sits back while things go wrong because the rational thing is to just look after his or her own."

Ed experienced bitter amusement. Yes, Ling was an idiot. He was much more of an idiot than he thought he was if he believed being a child was a good thing.

I'm going to do my part to attempt to keep Amestris from collapsing," Ling went on, "Though I won't help Scar take revenge."

"That's good to know," Hughes spoke. "It's a shame we won't be working together, but it's good to know four other people will be fighting for what we are."

"I'm not fighting to save Amestris," Scar corrected him. "I'm fighting to avenge my people." Hughes' face became a mask. "And I've delayed my vengeance long enough. We've brought the Rockbells to the Elrics, so it's time for us to leave you."

"Go ahead," Edward spoke up. "But there's something I want you to know. I'm not going to let you kill anyone in High Command, or the Fϋhrer, or any of the Homunculi. Death shouldn't be answered with more death."

"Then you'll die with them," Scar said.

Edward met his eyes for a second, then looked away.

Hughes turned to Ed, Al, and Julia. "You'd better get a move on yourselves. The sooner you're out of Central, the less the chances of anyone recapturing the Rockbells. I recommend you head southeast, to the town of Carvar. A friend of mine from the court martial office has been relocating employees from the First Branch of the National Central Library down there after it was burnt to hide evidence, in case High Command wants to silence them as they did the research teams. He and the employees should be able to get you set up there.

"Before you go, though, I have one thing to tell you. I read a newspaper article about how businesses and employees in the city of Kelyair are building a New Liore where Liore used to be in order to participate in an economic experiment in the government offering new levels of support to an economy. There's no doubt that's how the Homunculi are repopulating that point on the circle, and they plan to foment rebellion there and kill all those people."

"That's not what they plan to do now," Lan Fan put in, and Hughes turned to her in surprise. "I overheard a Homunculus and a researcher discussing this when I learned what I did in the Third Laboratory. Once enough people have moved to that location soldiers can complement them and give the leaders of Amestris enough people to inscribe their crest, the one called Father is going to send in the military to defend the people of New Liore from mannequins the alchemist who hurt Bradley down south is supposedly going to use to sabotage the experiment. Then the mannequin 'army' will be unleashed on the civilians and soldiers."

"We'll put a stop to that once we have our evidence," Ed spoke. "Thanks for the information."

"You're welcome," Lan Fan said.

"Do you have any more information to provide anyone we may be able to add to?" Scar questioned Hughes.

"No," Hughes responded.

"Then this is goodbye." Scar turned and walked out of the alley.

"That's our cue." Ling bowed to the four of them sitting down, and then to Granny. "It was a joy to make your acquaintance. Whether I need the Elrics' information or not, I hope I'll have the chance to see you again before I return to Xing."

He gestured to Lan Fan and Fu. Lan Fan looked towards the southwest, and Laboratory Three.

"Await us," she spoke, "Residents of the darkness. This is just the beginning. We will return."

Then the three of them ran after Scar.

Hughes watched them leave, and then turned to the rest of them. "I'll go my way too."

Edward didn't want to let Winry go, but he couldn't make a different choice. He sighed deeply and removed his arm from around her, then reached into a pocket of his cloak and took a piece of paper out of it. He put it on the alley floor before him and wrote Teacher's number on it with his left hand as best he could since he was right-handed and wasn't ambidextrous.

Then he held it out to the Lieutenant Colonel without getting up. He didn't want to take away Winry's ability to rest against him.

Hughes took the paper, and Ed put his left arm back around Winry and pulled her tight and close against him again. "What's this?"

"My former alchemy teacher's number," Ed responded. "I called one of her employees to recommend she meet us in Central so we can sneak into the Homunculi's base, but now that we've got to get Winry to Carvar, we're not going to be able to penetrate it with her as soon as we thought we'd be able to. She needs to know that, and that we'll get in touch with her or her employee, Mason, from Carvar when we can sneak into it. Would you be willing to call Mason from a public phone booth and let him know that?"

"Sure," Hughes responded.

Ed wanted to speak about Hawkeye and Mustang. He wanted to apologize to Hughes for killing Hawkeye and wrecking Mustang, and for not being able to attend Hawkeye's funeral. But he couldn't talk about what had happened to Hawkeye and Mustang with Winry in the state she was in. It would cause her even more agony at a time that was one of the last things she needed.

"Take care of yourself," Ed said.

"You, too," Hughes replied. He walked out of the alley.

Edward sighed heavily and looked over at Winry. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I've got to release you now. Can you stand?"

"There's no reason to apologize," Winry responded, concern now in her voice, and Ed cringed. "You've never been this supportive in the past." Ed clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he became aware she was right, and he hated himself even more, if that was possible. Now that he knew how much anguish she'd been carrying for years, that was just as unforgivable as everything else he'd done to her since he'd told Doctor Marcoh about her, and his inability to be there for her when she'd discovered what had happened to her parents, and his ignorance. "I'm thankful for receiving this much support from you."

She put one hand on his shoulder, and the other on Alphonse's, and Ed opened his eyes, clenched his teeth further, and released her. Carefully, Winry pushed herself to her feet, and Ed and Al stood up with her, Ed's left arm and Al's arms out to catch her if her legs gave out and she fell. Julia arose behind Alphonse.

But, though Winry wavered on her feet, she remained standing.

"I have something of my own to say," Winry now sounded even more concerned. "What happened to your automail arm, Ed?"

"I don't know," Edward replied. "The elbow stopped working in the middle of a battle–"

Winry went white.

Ed's stomach twisted violently. What had he done now?

"What is it?" Al asked.

"What happened when your elbow stopped working?" Winry questioned, guilt and terror in her voice. "Did it put you in any additional danger?"

Edward wanted to lie, but he could never do that to Winry anymore than he could to Alphonse. "I would have been killed if someone else hadn't saved my life," he responded.

More tears appeared in Winry's eyes and fell down her face, any blood remaining in her face drained from it, and she started to shake beyond extremely violently. Her legs gave out, and Alphonse caught her by the shoulders. She fell back against him, but she didn't appear to be aware of him, though, or anything in reality, her eyes gazing out unseeing in complete horror.

"Winry!" Ed shouted, so terrified he could barely breathe, and now much further guilty. "What's wrong!?"

Winry didn't say anything for a long time, just cried and shook, and from time to time she gave out a high, keening moan. Ed looked on in absolute horror of his own. What had he done to her!?

At last she appeared to become aware of the reality around her, and gave out a moan of utter despair and buried her face in her hands. "Your elbow stopped working because I forgot to install a critical screw in it!" she cried. "That's what's wrong with it! I was careless, and my lousy work almost got you killed!"

Ed was stunned, and awed. He knew Winry cared about them deeply, but he'd never thought she cared about them so much him almost dying because she'd made a mistake would get her this upset.

But this wasn't the time to think about that. He reached out and put his hand on the top of her head. "I don't care," he spoke. "I didn't die, and if not for your automail arm, I wouldn't have been able to save Julia here from the person who had murdered her family. Your automail enabled me to save someone in torment. So what if it almost got me killed? I lived, and I was still able to save someone with it."

"Because you're supposed to be able to trust my automail will keep you alive!" Winry practically shrieked. "It's not supposed to almost murder you!"

Edward struggled desperately to keep the food in his stomach inside his body. Winry was in far more pain now, and because of him, and even now he could say or do nothing. He should be able to think of something to say about the murders of her parents, but he extremely highly doubted there was anything to say that would support her anguish over how they'd been murdered by someone they'd saved, or her pain over trying to kill Scar, and, as the words he'd just spoken hadn't meant anything to her, he didn't know if there was anything that could be said that would comfort her agony over making a mistake in constructing his automail arm.

He was almost as helpless to do anything for her as he was to do anything for Al.

"Winry," Al said, "You've been as reliable a friend as anyone could hope to have. But no matter how reliable a person is, he or she will still make mistakes from time to time. That's what being human is. But you've–"

Without warning, Winry tore herself away from their hands and ran down the alley, then spun to face them. "I don't want to hear it!" she cried. "Reliable friends don't make mistakes that almost kill their friends! I'm not reliable! I'm crippling you!" Edward was barely able to keep his food inside himself. "Don't try to make me feel better! About anything! Not my parents, not Scar, not this, not my imprisonment, nothing at all! I let you down in one of the worst ways possible! You shouldn't be attempting to comfort me! You should be hating me and cursing me for daring to call myself your friend! You should run as far away from me as you can and never look back! Get away from me! Get away from me while you still have time to save yourselves from me!"

No. He was as powerless to do anything for her as he was to do anything for Al. If he talked to her about the deaths of her parents now he'd hurt her.

"We don't need to save ourselves from you at a–"

"I told you I don't want to hear it!" Winry screamed, cutting Alphonse off, her voice almost hysterical. "I'm as much a danger to you as any of the people who have tried to kill you on purpose! So long as you're with me you're in peril! Run away! Please! I'll install the missing screw in Ed's automail if he retrieves it because I can't leave him to have to get his forearm fixed by someone who doesn't know how it works as well as I do but after that I want you to run away from me! I want to protect you, and if you stay by my side I won't be able to do that! Please! Run! Or I'll murder you! I'm a killer now, don't you see!? If you don't leave me I'll kill you! And I want you to be safe!" Then her eyes widened in new horror.

"But that doesn't matter," she went on, referring to something Edward had no clue of the nature of. "I'd rather see your backs as you leave me than have you with me in danger. Go away! Please, go away! I don't want to kill you! Please, get away from me!"

Then she was bawling again.

Tears were in Ed's eyes again and on his face, but he rubbed them away. Al and Winry didn't need him crying now. They needed him to be strong. He didn't know if he still believed he was capable of being strong, but that was what they needed, so he'd continue to prevent himself from crying and try to be strong so he could take care of them.

Edward couldn't think of anything to say, and they didn't have the time to spend arguing about this here, so he walked forward and took her hand gently. She cringed away violently, and Ed had to fight desperately to keep the insides of his stomach within him, but he spoke softly, "Winry. It isn't safe here. Let's go."

.

Roy looked up at the sound of the cell door opening to see Hughes enter, Archer walking in behind him. Uncaring, he looked back down at the cell floor.

The next thing he knew, a fist was slugging him across the face, sending him sprawling back against the wall he was chained to by his wrists.

Then Hughes grabbed the collar of Roy's white prison shirt and pulled his face close to Hughes'.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Hughes yelled furiously. "Do you honestly believe this is what Riza would want!? For you to throw away your life, throw away your dreams, throw away your friends and subordinates, throw away the soldiers who looked up to you and believed in you, try to kill out of hate, and then sit here in this cell having given up!? Are you the person Riza gave her life to save!?"

Of course he wasn't. But what did that matter? Roy looked away from Hughes' expression.

"I was never the person Riza gave her life to save," Roy responded. "She believed in someone who didn't exist. She should never have sacrificed herself for me. So it doesn't matter if I cast away that façade."

Hughes slugged him again, and Roy let his head rest against the back wall for the small amount of seconds until Hughes seized the collar of his shirt again.

"How dare you, Roy," Hughes hissed. "You know how many soldiers in the East believe in you, and you know one of the most important reasons why. The public thinks you're called the Hero of Ishval because your Flame Alchemy killed more Ishvalans in the war than anyone save Kimblee did, but we both know the real reason. You frequently used your Flame Alchemy to carve a path through enemy lines that other soldiers could make it through alive. You were often before your subordinates, literally blazing a safer trail for them to follow. You just protected a small number of soldiers compared to the army overall, but you still made yourself a living shield for them. And now you're telling me the person those soldiers in Ishval believed in – the person more soldiers in the East than them believe in now for that reason – was a fake, and they were and are wrong to trust you.

"You're telling me the person soldiers in the East believe in now for your dedication to your subordinates, your regard for the lives of the lowest-ranking troops, your skill at leadership, and your strategic and tactical talents, was a fraud, and they're wrong to have faith in you.

"How dare you let them down that way!"

"I can't let my companions down when I never gave them anything of substance to believe in," Roy didn't even know why he was wasting the time talking. "All I gave them was an empty silhouette of illusionary ideals. I was no better than any other bloodstained mass murderer in that war or Bradley's effort to establish the nationwide transmutation circle, and I never will be."

"Nor will I," Hughes said, voice calmer now. "My hands aren't one liter cleaner than yours. Furthermore, don't forget, I murdered Heathcliff. You were right when you asked me if I'd hold Gracia with my bloodstained hands that night. Hands like these shouldn't pick up Elicia, or hug Gracia. Every time I touch them I pollute them with the blood that coats my hands. But that's not stopping me from giving them every ounce of love I can, and trying to be the best father and husband I can think a husband and a father should be. If I let it stop me, I couldn't give them the joy of having a husband and father they deserve but can't be handed to them. You told me Riza said it's our duty to be soldiers because Equivalent Exchange compels us to carry the corpses of those we've murdered for the rest of our lives, and therefore continue to spill blood even when we don't want to, as the price for our sins of reducing living humans to those corpses. But there's more to life than the past. We can still cherish people in the present, and build a better future with our bloodstained hands. You know that, too. Stop lying to yourself."

"I have," Roy responded. "That's why I've given up. My belief bloodstained hands can cherish the present and build a future were the lies."

"So you're telling me every time I take a picture of Elicia I'm lying to myself and her?" Hughes asked.

"No," Roy replied. "But you won't be able to take pictures of her until a ripe old age and die peacefully knowing you've provided for her even if I do change Amestris. You know what will happen if I become Fϋhrer." If Hughes was upset Roy had spoken of his former dream in front of Archer, he gave no evidence of it. "Our neighbors won't trust us, and Amestris' people won't be able to live in a stable peace so long as we're a powerful military country. I'll have to give the power the military has stolen from Parliament back to it and give it more power than it's had in all of Amestris' history, so this nation can reduce its armed forces and make the corruption in the military public. We'll be tried as war criminals for what we did in Ishval, executed, and the future will be out of our hands."

"We don't know that for certain," Hughes spoke. "If you create an atmosphere of tolerance within Amestris, you may be able to persuade Parliament to be lenient towards many of its war criminals and our neighbors to accept that lenience. There might be ways we'll be able to avoid execution."

"Perhaps," Roy conceded. "But even if there are, I'm still a liar. Perhaps your hands will be able to hold the present and the future. But mine can't. I'm not even remotely as strong as you are, and I could never be anywhere near as strong as you. Or as rational. If I couldn't defend Riza, weak humans can't even form a pyramid of limited protection. I learned nothing from Ishval. The world can't be made a better place, whether I chase the illusions of the drugged or don't. I'm no more than a deluded dreamer who will never be able to make a meaningful difference in this state. Amestris is better off without a fool like me."

Hughes clenched his teeth and released Roy's collar. "All right. Let's assume you're right about that. That doesn't change a fool like you is serving it as a Colonel, and practicing what you've said to me your alchemy Master called the greatest and most powerful field of alchemy. You're a weak human, and weaker than me, but you still have the strength to make a major difference in this country with your Flame Alchemy, and that means you have a responsibility to use it. You can't turn your back on that responsibility. Nor can you turn your back on your responsibilities as an officer; you're carrying the burden of other people's well-being in your position as Colonel, and you can't leave those people dangling."

"My Master also told me Flame Alchemy could be exceptionally deadly if the wrong person performed it," Roy reminded him. "And there's no question I'm the wrong person. I'd be irresponsible if I used it any more, now that I know what I am. Furthermore, I shouldn't be an officer. Master Hawkeye was right. I shouldn't have enlisted in the military."

"Then you're saying Riza should never have entrusted you with her back. You're saying she should never have trusted you could burn her father's research notes on her back without crippling her for life. You're saying she should never have been willing to follow you. You're saying she should never have lived for you."

"Yes," Roy said. He was so exhausted. Why couldn't Hughes leave him be? "I'm saying that. She should have shot me in the back right after I assigned her to be my assistant."

"Are you saying I shouldn't have trusted you, too? That Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman shouldn't have believed in you? That you'd be irresponsible if you continued to look out for us?"

"Yes," Roy replied. "If I continued to lead you, I'd lead you to your deaths. It's a good thing I was reassigned away from all of them. If I hadn't been, they might be with Riza now."

Hughes crossed his arms. "I disagree. Even if you won't lead me, I'll still follow you. Beyond the end of the world, if I have to."

Something stirred inside Roy, so faint he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining things again, and he looked at Archer. "Please take Hughes out of here," he requested. "And please don't let him meet with me again while I'm here."

Archer nodded, and Hughes sighed heavily.

"Riza's funeral was earlier today," Hughes spoke. "You missed it because you were sitting here in despair. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Something stronger stirred within Roy, but it was still so faint he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining it.

"If I'd attended it," he responded, "I'd have done her a disservice. Missing her funeral was the sole good thing I've done for her in my whole life." He looked away from Hughes at the wall to his right. "Leave me in peace, Hughes. Please."

He heard nothing for a few seconds, then footsteps walked away and were joined by another pair. Soon afterwards the cell door closed.

Roy wanted to sigh in relief, but he was too tired to. He was too tired to do anything. He hoped when he was released, as Archer had assured Roy this morning he would be in a few days provided he turned over all his reactive gloves beforehand, he'd lose his spinal cord if the Portal didn't erase him fully when he tried human transmutation. Then no one would be in a position to pester him about moving.

He couldn't believe a sick joke like he was could succeed in human transmutation when no alchemist in all the millennia since scientists had started practicing it had succeeded, but he had to try. If there was the most infinitesimal chance he could resurrect Riza, he owed it to her to attempt to, whatever the cost. Further, he had an idea of a method he was sure few, if any, other alchemists had tried before. He'd research all the locations where the one called Father and the military had orchestrated massacres to learn the equation for transmuting a Philosopher's Stone, then discover if it was possible to combine it with a human transmutation circle for transmuting a single body, mind, and soul. If he could, maybe that would pull a soul back from the dead.

However, even if his idea wasn't possible, he'd try with a regular human transmutation circle. He had to make the endeavor one way or another.

If all went well, in what would hopefully be just a matter of weeks, he'd be erased from existence and Riza would be alive again, free to live the life she would have lived if he hadn't asphyxiated her by binding her to his empty delusions. Even if things didn't go well for Riza, he might still be erased.

If there was any thread of kindness whatsoever in the void that was reality, he would be.

.

Dante opened the doors of her mansion, and looked in the direction where the storm of chi of the Philosopher's Stone was moving.

She experienced a mixture of disappointment and fury.

It wasn't another of her step-grandchildren. A figure with blue eyes, in a white shirt and gray pants with a sword belted and sheathed at the left side of his waist, wearing a white mask with golden lines and circular golden protrusions at its lower sides and at the center of the front of the chin, was walking across her yard towards the steps leading up to her porch.

It was a repulsive human carrying a Stone inside or outside his or her body.

"Leave this place at once," she commanded, walking onto the porch. "I have no desire to entertain guests. If you don't remove yourself from my property right away I will kill you."

The person stopped walking and held up his or her hands. "I'm not here on orders from the Fϋhrer," the figure's voice was distorted by the mask, but unmistakably male. "I'm no threat to you, I assure you."

"I care not," Dante replied. She could believe him; she sensed the soldiers who had been stationed far from her home in the forest, no doubt to keep as good of an eye on her as they could, were still there, but this person was an alchemist and could have gotten past them by digging a tunnel under the forest. "I abhor spending time with other humans. I chose this place to live for a reason. Anyone who walks onto my yard defiles the quiet of my house. Now begone or I'll restore peace to this place myself."

The male snorted in amusement. "You're as misanthropic as I am, I see."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Dante asked. "This is your final warning. Leave or die."

"What good will that do you?" the figure questioned, and Dante blinked. This was new. "Even if you killed me, humans will continue to infest this barren wasteland of a world and tear it and themselves to rubble. You carry no weapon, so I assume you're an alchemist. If you abhor humanity, why aren't you using your alchemy to change this planet into a better place, one you approve of?"

Dante laughed. "Change the world? Has the Stone you carry robbed you of your good sense?" The male's eyes widened at her revelation she knew he had a Stone. "It's impossible to change this world. There's no hope for other humans. Countless people have tried to teach humans to coexist with one another through philosophy, law, religion, ethics, the arts, and more, and it's all been for nothing. Humans just use the lessons they're taught as a new means of devouring their fellows, or a new means of justifying intolerance of those who are different and the creation of new dividing lines that split people apart, or as new torches to run to in order to escape from reality. Try to improve the world and you'll give humans new vehicles with which to bring suffering upon others and themselves. Humans are too blinded by their sins for anyone to be able to save them. The best thing those of us who recognize humans are a blight upon existence can do is to take the things we value and remove ourselves from humanity where we can live and preserve what matters to us untouched by their decadence. Don't talk badly of me for not trying to bring reform. I know how futile that is."

"What if I told you alchemy can unlock the all-knowing Truth within the All that will tell us how to create a better world?" the figure spoke. "What if I told you this Truth exists, not just as scientific laws but as a wellspring of complete information on all the workings of reality and everything existence has wrought since the beginning of time?"

Dante was slightly curious how this person knew of the existence of the planet's nervous system, but she sneered. "You don't know who you're talking to, boy. I've been aware the planet has a Gateway much longer than you've been alive."

The person's eyes widened, but then he asked, "Then why haven't you utilized it to establish a new world? Surely you know the Truth is absolute and holds the answers to saving this repugnant reality from itself." His eyes narrowed. "I see. You're the same as any other coward who wants to escape the Truth rather than embrace it."

Dante's jaw dropped, hate consuming her. First Greed had the audacity to tell her she'd never loved Hohenheim, now this mongrel human accused her of being as cowardly as the rest of them?

Thankfully, she didn't have to tolerate this from another human. Red coursed through the air, solidifying light particles into spikes of blue-white light, and they elongated at the human.

A green web of pure soul energy burst from the human and flew through the air into the spikes of light, ripping them apart. But Dante didn't waste any time wondering how the human was using a Philosopher's Stone to power his transmutations with an energy source that emitted green light. More red crackled through the air and the remains of the spikes extended at the human.

However, another web of pure green soul energy appeared in the air between the two of them and shredded these spikes, and Dante's eyes widened. This alchemist had just transmuted through gases without transmuting something within the gases or first sending the transmutation through a solid. She'd thought she was the only alchemist in this area of the world who knew how to do that, unless Hohenheim had learned how to since he'd abandoned her. Who was this alchemist?

She sent red out into the air before her and transmuted a wave of lava out of it at the alchemist, but green light washed out from him into the air and a thick wall of ice shot at the wave of lava. The lava and ice met, sending hissing steam into the air, and then green played over the steam and it became whiplashes of boiling water that swung at her as the figure charged her amidst them with his sword leveled, maintaining the transmutation as he moved. Red currents emerged from her body to form a gigantic serpent of blue-white light that coiled in front of the whiplashes and blocked them, then attempted to close on the alchemist, but another green energy web formed in a dome over the alchemist and expanded, slicing the serpent apart. She solidified its pieces in red as a throng of serpents of blue-white and moved them winding through the web at the person, but the web vanished and a deadly green soul energy ran over the surface of the alchemist's body, his charge not faltering in the least as it did, and destroyed the throng as it touched him.

Then green soul energy was running over the figure's sword and its point was at her throat.

She smiled unpleasantly. "Go ahead," she urged him. "Neutralize any soul energy I transmute to break your sword with soul energy of your own. You can't threaten me with your sword. You can't harm me."

The male's eyes flew wide. "You're a living Stone, and you're a human. Human transmutations can work on living humans. Unbelievable."

Dante smiled with pride, unconcerned how the person knew what a living Stone was. "Indeed they can. Now surrender. It will make things swifter."

"Never," the person rejoined. "I haven't learned how to unlock the ultimate Truth to fall at the hands of a coward," Dante snarled viciously, "who won't lift a finger to save a world she could deliver from its misery. If you won't help me, I'll depart as you desire, but I won't die at your hands. I'll recreate this world, no matter what it takes."

"I'm no coward, you insolent worm," she responded. "I'm being realistic. You're dreaming in vain. Even should you open the planet's Gateway and become God, humans won't believe the Truth you've learned is any different than their relative hallucinations. You'll be forced to oppress the filth you want to save and coerce them to live by the Truth, and you'll thus contribute to the endless cycle of humans devouring each other. You're a naïve fool."

"You're the fool," the figure replied, and Dante clenched her teeth. "Humans probably won't accept it, but the ultimate Truth is omniscient. There is nothing it doesn't know. That means there's no question there's an answer within it that will tell me how to establish a new order without contributing to the cycle." Dante blinked. She'd never thought of that before. "That you don't see this is proof you're a coward." Dante snarled. "You want to flee this poisonous reality, so you're thinking about keeping it from becoming part of your life once again and haven't recognized learning the all-knowing Truth means you will be able to break the cycle."

"I'll concede the ultimate Truth holds the answer to saving this world," Dante spoke. "I'm aware the solutions to all adversity lie within it, so I can believe it can tell you how to save this reality without becoming part of the cycle. But that I didn't recognize this before doesn't make me a coward. Not everyone dissatisfied with something believes he or she can change what he or she hates, as you do. A number of us just fail to see we can. We're not all-knowing. We're limited to subjective, flawed perspectives of the absolute Truth.

"Nor does discovering I was wrong make me inclined to change anything. A number of us also just want to remove what we hate from our lives and live separate from its corrosion. That's what I desire. And that doesn't make me a coward. By that logic, anyone who wants to live in contentment and doesn't use his or her skills to benefit others is a coward. Can you honestly argue that?"

The masked alchemist was silent for a few seconds. "No," he responded. "In that case, I feel sorry for you." Dante clenched her teeth, even more furious now. She didn't need a human's sympathy! "You've sentenced yourself to lonely isolation when you could be reshaping this world into one you'd find true happiness within. Wouldn't you prefer humanity become a species you were willing to interact with, in a world where you could make friends and find someone you can love as a husband and live out your immortal life looking over the successive generations of your family and your friends' families, teaching them and guiding them so they don't repeat the mistakes of the old world and knowing the joy of meeting new descendants when they're born, and the satisfaction of being able to make a meaningful difference in this wretched universe? That's the life you deserve. Not a life where you exist alone in despair of the world around you, resigned to never know the happiness every living being should be able to attain. You're throwing away your chance at paradise, for no reason. That's anathema to what it means to exist on this planet. Almost everyone belongs in paradise, and you're no exception."

Dante would never be able to find another she could love as a husband, she wasn't alone, and she was happy as she was and had no need of the companionship of humans she could tolerate, but the other alchemist's words struck something within her. There was a conviction in them she hadn't known in anyone else save Hohenheim and she knew from the time she'd spent with Hohenheim was real, and a fervor in them she could tell for the same reasons was real and she hadn't even encountered in him. They called to her as no words a human had spoken had since Hohenheim's, and despite her hatred of humanity, she found a very small part of herself wanting to know this figure's paradise, and wanting to believe she should change the world, for the writhing humans who preyed upon themselves so they could thrive in the utopia they ought to have been living in since history began.

Should she assist this human? It was possible to deliver this waste hole of a world, so it wouldn't be an exercise in futility. And if she did, she'd have the companionship of someone who possessed a sliver of the magnificence Hohenheim had possessed, and she'd believed she'd never be able to experience the tiniest thread of that magnificence again for eternity.

No. It was just a sliver. There was no reason to upend her happy, peaceful life for slivers. She was done arguing with him. She'd return to attempting to kill him and succeed or force him to run away and never return.

"It doesn't make a difference," she responded. "I'm content as I am now. I have no need of additional happiness."

Red energies ran off her into the porch and converted the stone below the alchemist into lava, but by the time any of it had altered into lava the alchemist had jumped into the air and had sent green through the air into the porch below Dante, deconstructing it and sending it up beneath her in loose pieces. She lost her balance and attempted to keep her footing, and in those seconds she was too busy staying on her feet to strike again, the alchemist spoke.

"You're above the pettiness that most humans let rule them." Again the conviction and fervor were in his voice, but Dante didn't care. She got her feet beneath her and a thick crackling red beam of pure soul energies rocketed from her forehead. The figure, now standing before the lava, held out his hand and launched a thick crackling green soul beam, and the two met and warred, the tremendous clash of energy ripping chunks of stone, the walls of the house, the roof of the porch, and the ground around the porch up into the air around them and sending large numbers of the chunks past them. "Almost everyone deserves happiness, but you deserve it more than most. You should clasp every atom of happiness you can seize." His beam split into two, shooting around hers, Dante split her own beam to counter, and the clash continued. "You're an effulgent gem who could light this dark wasteland with rays of hope." Dante's eyes widened. "Your happiness should radiate a brilliance that outshines the Sun."

Dante halted her transmutation, gazing at the other alchemist, stunned, and the other human ended his transmutation too. No one had spoken of her that way with that conviction in over three-and-a-half centuries, not since Hohenheim had divorced her, and no one had spoken of her that way with such fervor in all the years she'd been alive.

But now it had happened. Another human believed she had incredible value, and in ways not even Hohenheim had. It was almost impossible to believe a human could think that way, and it was impossible to believe it was true she was that priceless, but it had happened.

Additionally, this alchemist understood how rotten humanity was, and understood her, and possessed at least a sliver of Hohenheim's magnificence, and perhaps more. This person was a human, but did she genuinely want to throw away the companionship of someone like this who thought these ways?

She knew the answer to that.

For the first time in centuries, she smiled a true smile at another human. "Maybe you're right," she conceded. "You may come in."

.

Julia looked on as Ed stood on the porch and rang the doorbell of the six-story townhouse in the row of eight connected townhouses the soldier here in Carvar on leave from his duties at the court martial office in Central had told them had room for five.

Julia was relieved they were finally here. That meant Ed could retrieve the screw missing from his automail arm, and maybe, just maybe, after Winry installed it in the arm, Julia or someone else would be able to say or do something to comfort Al, Ed, or Winry. She extremely highly doubted it, but she had to hope installing the screw would give them a better chance of being mended. She didn't know what she'd do if she didn't.

The past four days they'd traveled through Amestris on foot had been a new kind of nightmare for Julia. She'd known Ed and Al had been in a terrible state of mind that was far worse than the torture they were experiencing from Hawkeye's death, Mustang's collapse, and their belief they needed to abandon their dreams, since Al had told her he and Ed had been pushed beyond their emotional limits before she'd left Milos. But she hadn't had much of a concept of how truly horrific it was until she'd seen how Ed and Al had acted and had heard what they'd spoken when they'd reunited with Winry. Then it had been blindingly obvious; Ed and Al loved Winry almost as much as they loved each other, and their guilt over having unintentionally gotten her taken prisoner by Amestris' leaders as leverage against them and terror for what might have happened, be happening, or would happen, to her, had been making every second of each day and night since she'd been taken horror from the furthest depths of a bottomless abyss. Julia was aware how they'd gotten Winry's grandmother taken captive had contributed to their torment, and she didn't know if anything else was or wasn't tormenting Ed and Al, but that Winry had been held prisoner had told Julia what life was really like for the Elrics.

Now, Julia was aware, the horror their reality had become was even worse.

Winry was physically healthy, although undernourished because she hadn't been fed as well as she should have been when she'd been a prisoner, and she'd spoken she hadn't been through anything but captivity, but in many ways it would have been better for her if she had been tortured or starved than experience what she had after she'd been freed. She'd endeavored murder, and the revelation her mistake had almost killed Ed had wounded her far worse than her attempt to murder had in countless ways. She had stained hands that had once been utterly innocent, and had come apart.

And what she'd tried to do, and how terribly she had come apart, had made things so much worse for Ed and Al Julia couldn't compare how the two had spent the time since they'd reunited with Winry to how they'd spent the first days and nights she'd known them.

Ed now spent most of the time he was awake looking like he was just partially aware of the world around him and was gazing at things only he could see, and whether he was or wasn't, he spent his waking hours being overly supportive of Al and Winry. From the desperation in Ed's voice each time he offered to do something for one or both of them, it sounded as though he believed he might have to make up for not having supported them all the years of his life and, no matter what he did, it might not be enough to enable him to. Julia was certain from how close Ed was to his brother and Winry that was how Ed felt. The first hours of their journey he'd frequently offered to help his brother traverse difficult stretches of terrain, and from time to time offered to help Winry do so, even after Al had assured Ed he didn't need help numerous times and Winry had requested Ed stay away from her multiple times, and hadn't stopped until they'd made camp. Even after that, after they'd broken camp and resumed traveling, he'd insisted Al not trouble himself carrying Pinako over difficult terrain in spite of Al reminding his brother his armor body was tireless, and had refused to back down until Pinako had threatened not to let anyone carry her no matter how difficult the path became if Ed didn't shut up. That hadn't put an end to Ed's desperate treatment of Al and Winry, however. Throughout the days of their journey, when the blue of transmutations wouldn't draw attention, he'd transmuted the slightest troublesome terrain to make it easier for them to traverse.

Julia had no evidence Ed's nightmares were any worse, but she was sure they were, and sure he'd barely be sleeping, or sleeping at all, if he hadn't known he needed to to be as alert as possible for threats to Winry and Pinako.

Al's armor had offered little evidence she could read as to how he was feeling, but how often he looked quietly at Winry, and how he was almost always close by Ed or Julia or close enough to Winry, while still staying at a distance, he'd be able to reach her with ease if she needed him to, not actively offering any support as Ed had but letting them know he was there for them if they wanted him, had made it clear he felt similar to how Ed did.

The first time they'd stopped to sleep, the afternoon of the day following the night they'd left Central, Julia had been determined not to leave Al to contend with his helplessness to do anything for Ed or Winry by himself, and hadn't turned in, but that had driven her powerlessness home to her so strongly her conversation with Al then had been seared into the deepest reaches of her brain.

"Could you please get your sleep?" Al asked, and Julia looked from the uneasily sleeping Winry, her rest no doubt filled with nightmares of her own, at Al. "There's no reason for you to stay up for my sake. I told you, I brought most of my suffering upon myself. It's not a load you need to give anything of yourself to lighten."

"Don't be silly," Julia said. "Any suffering is a load I need to give something of myself to lighten, no matter why another is suffering."

"Not mine," Al replied. "I've spent weeks unable to think of a thing I can do for Brother. I haven't been able to think of a thing I can do for you, and now I can't think of anything I can do for Winry. I'm determined to now – I can't live with being unable to support others – and because of that I won't believe the worst things my mind is telling me about my inability. If you've been thinking I believe what Brother does, I don't. I don't believe I've never been able to take care of Brother before and may not be able to now." Thank goodness. Al just felt similar to Ed; he didn't believe those thoughts and feelings. "But it doesn't matter how determined I am, or what I won't believe, I still can't do anything for anyone else. I'm useless, so no one should be doing things for me."

"You know better than that," Julia said. "No one needs to be capable of giving kindness to receive it. Kindness isn't something you earn. Kindness is something that should be extended to others because it fosters and sustains them."

"That's not what I meant," Al responded. "Although that I don't need to earn kindness doesn't mean I can't be undeserving of it. What I mean is, I haven't given up on not believing the things I'm struggling for are definitely or likely lost causes, but currently, I can't do anything for anyone, so I'm dead weight. Until I'm able to learn how to help you, you won't get anything back if you support me. I know. The point of supporting others isn't to get something back. But you matter more than I do, so it's better for your sake if you give to those you can get something back from. That's why you shouldn't do things for me. For your sake, not because I haven't earned support."

"I don't care about what happens to me any more than you care about what happens to you," Julia spoke back. "Other people, and you, don't need me to feel better. Other people, and you, need me to be there for you."

"That is what I need from you," Al replied. "I need to know you're being comforted, not that I am. And I need to know I'm not piling additional weights on you, and taking from you when you're in so much pain and I should be the one giving. Granny taught me I need to accept others' support, and if things were different I'd accept yours… but as things are I can't. Not when you're in so much need yourself. I'm so sorry. I'm so thankful you want to give to me, and I wish I could accept your gift. But I can't. So could you please not sacrifice anything for me, now or at any time?"

If she hadn't been used to living in torture from all the years she'd spent in Milos, she knew she would have had nightmares when she'd gone to sleep then, and she would have been having them every night since. She wasn't just powerless, she couldn't even extend much support to someone as incredible as Al without injuring him terribly regardless of whether it assisted him or not.

Her helplessness was so agonizing it, too, was now taking her apart.

She'd been powerless for all the years since she'd returned to the valley. She taught the children and had learned more alchemy and had joined the Black Bats and taken instruction in how to fire a gun well enough she could pull her weight in battle, but she hadn't been able to do a thing to unlock the mysteries of her parents' research and the holy land. She'd had to watch her people suffer and die and continue through life knowing she could do very little to make things better for them or protect them. She couldn't take it, but she was familiar with what it was to be powerless.

But she'd never been helpless like this. In the valley, she'd been able to make a difference for the better in the lives of the people around her. She'd been able to offer kind words and smiles and hold people's hands and hug them and, by doing so, comfort or sustain them through their torment. She'd been able to use her limited skills at medical alchemy to treat the injured, or gun down officers in the Cretan secret police who were pursuing one of her countrymen or countrywomen, or work as a volunteer or an employee to perform jobs the Milosians had needed done, or run errands through the shantytown when one or more of her fellows had difficulties.

Now, Al and Ed and Winry were in shreds, and Julia couldn't do the tiniest thing to give them solace or healing or make their anguish easier to bear.

It hurt so much it was almost a physical thing.

She wanted to smile bitterly. One of the major sources of the pain consuming the Elrics and, Julia knew for certain, Winry, were their sensations of helplessness and their doubts or beliefs they couldn't do anything for each other, and she felt so increasingly powerless partially because Julia couldn't support those things. As Ed and Al felt more and more helpless to care for each others' sensations of helplessness, and for Winry's perception of her powerlessness. As Winry, even wanting Ed and Al not to come near her, felt powerless to care for the brothers' feelings of helplessness. Julia, Ed, and Al, and to a lesser extent, Winry, were all being strangled by a chain of weakness that fed upon itself and further weakened those suffocating within it in a worsening cycle. The more helpless Ed or Al or Julia felt, the worse the other two felt at being powerless to comfort the person feeling helpless, in turn causing the other two people to feel more powerless, in turn causing the other two people to feel more powerless, in turn causing the other two people to feel more helpless, and the cycle spiraled on. Furthermore, even Winry, who believed the brothers were better off away from her, was undoubtedly being eaten by the cycle.

Julia had to break that cycle. It was even more important she gain strength now, not just to free her people, but to free Al and Ed and Winry from the cycle of powerlessness breaking them down.

But how could she do it? The Crimson Star would free her people from terror and oppression, but what could enable her to banish Al's and Ed's and Winry's guilt and perceptions of inadequacy if Ed and Al wouldn't use the Star to transcend their human flaws and weakness?

It didn't matter she didn't know the answer, though. Al and Ed and Winry needed her, so she had to do it for them.

The front door opened, revealing a girl with short brown hair, blue eyes, and glasses wearing a light purple shirt and blue pants and holding an open book in her left hand. She smiled. "Hi!" she greeted cheerfully. "You're the Elric brothers and the Rockbells, correct? Focker at the court martial office, the soldier who has been moving us down here, called us and told us you were coming. I'm Sheska, and I live here with my sick mother and the home care physician Focker is paying to take care of her, a doctor named Jectun."

She looked over the five of them, then rested her gaze on Ed. "Your right forearm is dangling like a broken prosthetic, so I'm assuming it's automail and you're the Fullmetal Alchemist, as you have a metal limb."

Ed forced a smile, and Julia wondered why. "Finally, someone who got it right," he remarked. "People usually mistake Al," he pointed at Al, "For me."

Sheska held a finger to her chin. "That doesn't make sense," she spoke. "Alphonse is wearing armor. His body isn't metal. Why would people think he's you?"

"That's something I'd love to know the answer to," Ed responded, but Julia knew it was one of the last things he cared about now. "At any rate," he gestured at Julia. "This is Julia Crichton. She's not an Amestrian. She's from Milos," Sheska's eyes lit up in delight, "A small country to the west that was annexed by Creta approximately four hundred years ago, and now partially belongs to Amestris too."

"She's from a culture that has existed for over three thousand years!?" Sheska cried excitedly. "That's amazing!"

"You know of Milos?" Julia questioned, surprised.

"I know all about it!" Sheska spoke back. "I read up on every culture that once surrounded Amestris from the earliest days of our nation until the present when I worked at the First Branch of the National Central Library, Riviere, Givvis, Intevel, Atolon, Beyron, Milos, you name it! I adore reading, and I scoured the library floor to ceiling and all of its books cover to cover, letting no word escape my eager eyes, leaving no page unturned."

"While you were doing your job?" Ed sounded skeptical.

Sheska hung her head, shoulders slumping in shame. "Yes. I was fired because of that. I was trying to earn enough money to move my mother to a better hospital, but I lost my job because of my incompetence. Again."

"Don't feel bad," Al spoke. "You would have lost your job anyway when the First Branch was burnt, and now your mother is receiving care from a doctor who can pay full attention to her. You didn't do anyone any harm by losing your job and things are better for your mother now in multiple ways, even though they're worse in others because she doesn't have the resources of a large city's hospital at her disposal. Additionally, you weren't killed, so you have plenty of chances to improve your skills and find a job you'll be able to keep."

Sheska smiled at Al. "Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," Al replied.

Sheska appeared to become aware what the discussion was resulting in, for her eyes went wide.

"I'm sorry," she said. "There's no need for you to stand out here talking with me after journeying so far on foot. Come on in."

"The people with me will," Ed spoke, "But there's something else I ought to do first." Al spun to look at him. "I need to retrieve something from Resembool, further east, and I might as well get started right away. So I won't be staying for a number more days."

"Don't you mean 'us?'" Al questioned.

Ed gave Al a sad look. "I wish I did," he responded, sounding so exhausted Julia knew he wouldn't be moving if he didn't need to look after Al. Her heart ached at the knowledge Al must be in the same state, as well as at the knowledge Al must not have been apart from his brother for multiple days before. "But it will be easier for me to get to Resembool and back if I'm not traveling with you. The military must be searching for us, and you're more conspicuous than I am, and would be even if you were wearing a hood and concealing garments. Further, the military will be looking for a pair of people that consists of a large person and a… short person. If we're not together, there's less of a chance of us getting caught, or anyone following us here. There's no reason for you to come with me to Resembool, so it's better I go alone."

Al sighed heavily. "You have a point. All right."

She could offer support without sacrificing anything here. She knew for certain it wouldn't comfort Al the most miniscule bit, but she could offer support.

Why are you feeling any relief? It doesn't give you the ability to assist him.

She suppressed the urge to clench her hands and put her hand on his shoulder.

"You won't be alone," she said. "I'm not Ed, but I'm here. So are Winry and Pinako."

"Thanks," he responded, but he didn't try to keep his anguish out of his voice. He clearly knew it wouldn't fool her.

"You're welcome."

"Actually," Pinako put in, "I'll be going with Ed." Ed looked at her, startled. "I should retrieve as many of Winry's and my belongings from our house as I can, and I won't have any trouble being inconspicuous."

Ed shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He looked at Winry with an expression that made it clear he didn't want to leave her, or put any amount of separation between them that left her out of easy reach.

Winry turned away from him and looked down. "The screw is on the table in the living room to the left of the couch," she spoke quietly, "Relative to facing it. It's labeled 'E-23.'"

Innumerable emotions showed in Ed's expression. "I see."

.

Ed climbed the dirt path up the hill toward the cemetery, Granny at his side. He'd taken off the faded white hooded rags he'd worn over his black clothing when he'd made it a decent distance into Resembool, and Granny was still in the rags but with her hood down.

He didn't want to come here. The sooner they took the screw and the Rockbells' belongings from Winry's and Granny's house, the sooner he could return to Alphonse and Winry. And he wanted to return to them so badly it was almost physical. He'd never been apart from Al for over six days in his life, and by now the lack of his brother's presence was an infinite aching void in his heart that was so empty not even emptiness existed inside it. He'd known from the time he'd lost his limbs he hadn't genuinely lost any of his body, because Al was half of his body and Al had still been with him, but he was aware of that now in ways he'd never been before now Al wasn't at his side.

Because now that half of his body was gone. He was such a shell now he would have felt more complete if all of his limbs were automail if he was with his brother. In addition, he knew Alphonse had to feel similar. Every second Ed was away from his brother he was tormenting Al in new inexpressible ways.

Not being within easy reach of Winry where he could protect her if High Command found her was in countless ways more terrifying than her captivity had been, because now that she was free she had much more to lose if she was captured a second time, because she was immeasurably less in shape to endure further captivity in her current mindset, and because there was a very high chance if the military located her they'd kill her, and Edward would wholly lose her, to punish Edward for continuing to defy them. He knew he needed to get used to not being within easy reach of her because as soon as she fixed his automail forearm he'd be returning to Central and setting the stone rolling, but after he might have failed to support her since he'd known her, after he'd wounded and twisted her so incomprehensibly horribly, and as uncertain as he was he could take care of her, he felt so guilty at thinking of not worrying about her as much he was unwilling to do it.

His nightmares and waking mind's eye were filled with sights of him standing at the front door of the townhouse in Carvar, looking at a motionless Al sitting on the porch in a way that made it obvious he was wholly unaware of reality as Winry's broken corpse lay atop a dead soldier, gaping wounds torn into her on every surface of her body and a bloodied knife in her hand buried in the chest of the soldier who had assaulted her as she cried tears of blood. Or sights of Winry with a rifle in her hands shooting soldiers in the head and causing blue currents to play over their heads and the backs of their heads to detonate in blood and shreds of flesh before a soldier hurled a knife through her throat and her corpse fell into the arms of an Al shaking so violently his armor was falling into pieces.

Ed had to go back to Carvar. It wouldn't make the nightmares any less horrible. Before they'd arrived there his waking eye and dreams had beheld Winry stab people; shoot people; construct automail limbs, connect them to patients, and then flick a switch and cause blades or gun turrets to extend from the limbs and shoot or impale the patient; strangle people; smash people over the head with her wrench until they died; slice open the stumps of people's limbs and look at them bleed to death; and more. At times she'd be crying tears of blood, at times she'd be laughing ecstatically or gazing with complete apathy at her victims. In other visions or beyond nightmares she'd be running from him and Al into a circle of soldiers who would then riddle her with bullets or activate a transmutation circle she'd run onto and she'd warp into one of the Chimeras he'd dreamed of her becoming before they'd reunited. But he could take away the pain Al was experiencing from Edward's absence by returning to him, when Ed went back to Carvar he'd be together with Al, and when Ed went back he'd know Winry was alive.

Granny wanted to visit her children's graves, though, and tell them their murderer had saved their daughter from captivity, and though the concept of Granny saying anything good about Winry's parents' killer to them made him sick to his stomach, Edward couldn't risk leaving Granny by herself when he didn't have to.

He reached the top of the hill and continued down the path, then stopped as he registered someone was standing in front of Mom's grave.

Granny's eyes widened and her mouth opened, and she stopped too. "Hohenheim!" she cried.

Edward jolted violently.

But looking at the person's back, the figure's blonde hair and ponytail waving in the breeze against a brown coat as the person held a suitcase in one hand, the sight intermingled with his memory of seeing that same hair and ponytail against a back as he looked in Hohenheim's study with Al behind him, with hazy memories of a face with a blonde ponytail on a photograph in the Rockbells' living room, and with his memory of seeing that same coat and hair and ponytail as Hohenheim opened the front door of their house and walked out of it, suitcase in hand, never to return.

There was no question about it. It was him.

Edward walked in front of Granny, molten fury searing him, but it wasn't enough to keep terror away. He knew from Greed's words Hohenheim wasn't a Homunculus, but Teacher had told them Hohenheim knew a lot about the Philosopher's Stone, so that didn't mean he wasn't allied with them.

Had Hohenheim found them and followed them here? Were servants of the one called Father even now at Carvar, recapturing or killing Winry?

Hohenheim turned to face them, and for a moment Ed thought from the redness in Hohenheim's eyes he had been crying, but Edward scoffed derisively. That was impossible. There was no way Hohenheim could have cried because Mom had died.

Hohenheim's eyes widened, and he walked out of the entrance to the cemetery. Edward wanted to run up and punch him in the face with his left fist, but he pushed the urge down. They were near Mom's grave, and that would leave Granny open.

"Edward?" Hohenheim asked. "Is that you?"

Edward snarled. "As if you care," he responded. "But yes. I am."

Then Hohenheim looked at Granny. "Pinako," he smiled. "I'm glad to see you. I was told you and Winry had been arrested."

He looked behind him, and Edward followed Hohenheim's gaze to see him looking at the burnt ruins of their house.

Mom was as horrible transcending thought as an infinite nightmare Al had been erased all reality was blinding anguish

Ed violently wrenched his mind away from the visions and wrenched his head away from the sight of what remained of his house, heart pounding, shaking violently, and fought to keep his stomach from ridding itself of its contents and reality separate from illusion. He couldn't break down now. He had to protect Granny. As well, there was no way he was going to be weak in front of Hohenheim.

Hohenheim looked back at them. "I came back here earlier today to discover my house burnt to rubble and the Rockbell residence empty, and upon asking around I learned Trisha had died of illness years ago, you, Edward, had left Resembool to enlist in the military as a State Alchemist, and you, Pinako, had been arrested over two months ago. Would one or both of you please tell me what has happened here in the time I've been gone?"

.

"My hands ain't any cleaner! I shouldn't be able to carry Marlene neither."-Barret Wallace

FINAL FANTASY VII