Chapter 14: Exploited Weaknesses

Guess what? I graduated from college! You know what that means? Hopefully more updates. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so long! To make up for it, I cooked up a nice long chapter for you guys, and I'll start working on the next one this week. I can't promise frequent updates, but I'll try to dedicate more time to this story whenever I can.

413nepetaleijon: I can see where having two Roys can get timey-wimey, so I try to insert their military ranks every now and then to make it easier to follow (Colonel Mustang being the past one and General Mustang being the future one). Hopefully my context clues are helpful. FMAB is so much fun to write, and there are so many directions I could take it, so it definitely takes a lot of careful planning to determine which path to take to keep it interesting. I'm very glad you're enjoying it so far!

BakedBeanFart: Your username is awesome. Glad you liked the chapter!

MomoPeachFlower: You make a very good deduction. I can't say much more than that until more is revealed, but keep it in mind. I don't want to be too predictable, so I'll probably find a way to spin things around in future chapters. ;)

Fuhrer Bradley stood motionlessly by the window behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. Sitting on the other side of the desk were Colonel Mustang, Edward, and Alphonse, the former two bearing expressions comparable to a young child sitting in time out for stealing sweets, while the latter was constitutionally unable to express his present anxiety. The awkward silence was deafening as the three offenders waited in uneasy anticipation for their punisher to make known his intentions.

Edward cast a worried glance at the flame colonel, who seemed to be trying a little too hard to hide the extent of the effects his injuries were having on him. Pride had really done a number on the guy; the fact that he was sitting straight despite the nasty gashes and internal damage was a miracle. If they got out of this alive, Edward would see to it that his commanding officer got to a hospital. I'd better not let on that I'm worried, though, he thought. Cocky bastard would never let me hear the end of it. Colonel Mustang could be a jerk, but he was the closest thing to a father right now.

After an uncomfortable silence that seemed to last forever, Bradley spoke without turning to face them. "You really shouldn't have meddled with our plans. I tried to warn you to leave well enough alone, but all three of you have made yourselves unpredictable wild cards. I couldn't sit back and tolerate your insubordination any longer."

"If that's the case, then why are we still alive?" Roy asked. His voice was strained from the damage of Pride's earlier strangulation.

"Because you're not going to learn your lesson if you're dead, solider," Bradley replied. "Killing the three of you would be a waste of valuable resources."

Edward tightened both hands into fists. "Is that what we are to you? Resources?"

Bradley turned a withering expression on the young alchemist. "In my opinion, all humans are worthless scum that should be eliminated. If you were not useful to us, we would not be having this conversation. Consider yourselves lucky."

"Yeah, he's looking pretty lucky," Edward mumbled, jerking his head toward Roy. "If this is how you people treat your valuable resources, then I'm good, thanks."

Ignoring Edward's discontented grumbling, Bradley continued. "We may have erred in letting you run unchecked this long, but dogs can be trained."

"Oh, yeah? And what if we don't want to be your dogs anymore?" Edward whipped out his silver, blood-encrusted pocket watch and stared at it a moment. "I only joined the military because I thought it would help us get our bodies back, but now…now I know what the State Alchemist program really is. You're using it as a way to recruit your sacrifices. Well, I'm not going to let you use me to accomplish your sick goals." With that, he chucked the watch across the table and slammed his automail hand down for emphasis. "I resign my title as a state alchemist!" he declared.

Bradley was unfazed. "The symbol of a dog, fittingly encrusted with blood."

"You're plans are gonna fail," Edward asserted. He wasn't sure where this surge of confidence was coming from, but he didn't dare question it. What did he have to lose, anyway? The Fuhrer had already said the three of them were too valuable to kill. "I swear on my own grave I'm gonna stop you. I'll warn the other state alchemists! I'll tell them—!"

"What was that lovely young girl's name again?"

Edward stiffened. "Huh?"

"Ah, yes." Bradley tapped his temple a few times as if recalling something from memory. "It's Winry Rockbell." Both Elrics immediately sprang to their feet. "Your automail engineer…and you grew up with her in Resembool if I'm not mistaken. She's practically a family member, isn't she? I heard that she's made quite a name for herself with her customers in Rush Valley. Such a sweet and trusting girl…"

"You stay away from her!" Edward exclaimed, furious beyond comprehension. "Just leave her out of this!"

"Well, that's up to you." Bradley tapped the watch a couple of times to make his point before sliding it back to the young alchemist. "If you'd rather not take it, then I will simply have to cut her down." When Edward grudgingly shoved it back in his pocket, the wrathful homunculus finally smiled. "How thoughtful. As for you…" He turned to Roy. "Before you make any bold statements, need I remind you who your weaknesses are?"

Roy tightened his jaw. "No, sir. That won't be necessary."

"You say that now, and I believe you, but just for insurance…" Bradley passed a paper across the desk for Roy to inspect. The document was a written order to relocate the following members to new posts effective immediately: Sergeant Major Kain Fuery to the South, Warrant Officer Vato Falman to the North, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda to the West, and Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye to the Office of the Fuhrer. Roy blanched as he read it. "The transfer orders have already been issued. She'll be under my watch from here on out. Are we clear?"

Roy's shoulders slumped, and Edward watched in agonizing silence as a shadow of defeat crept over the colonel's features. "Yes, sir," he quietly replied. "I know my place." The flame alchemist, so powerful and arrogant, was reduced to this humiliated state by mere words. It was sickening how easily Bradley could manipulate all three of them with simple blackmail. The worst part was he was serious, and they all knew it. Bradley was not bluffing; if they didn't behave, he would carry out his threats in a nanosecond.

"Good. If we're all on the same page, then we have nothing more to discuss." Bradley returned to his post by the window. "You're dismissed."

"You're being irrational."

"No, I'm not!" Riza paced furiously around the TARDIS, stopping to inspect the small green worm-like creature Envy had been reduced to. "Offering Envy as a trade is the only way to get Roy back from the homunculi. We can't do this without him. His alchemy—"

"This is not about his alchemy, and you know it," the Doctor insisted. "If you associate with them, you put the timeline at greater risk than before. It's bad enough that you revealed your identity as a time traveler to some of your friends in this timeline, but it would be even worse to make bargains." In a few graceful strides, he closed the distance between himself and Riza, tilted her chin away from the seething homunculus in the glass encasement. As their brown eyes met, the rigid defiance in Riza's face and posture only increased. The Doctor sighed and ran an aggravated hand through his hair. "Look, you have to understand. This is not your time. Everything you do has consequences…more so than the actions of the people who live here. Bargaining with the homunculi will put a spotlight on yourself as a time traveler and unleash a chain of events that were not intended for this timeline."

Riza bit her lip. "I understand that, but the homunculi are not meant to hold a time-traveling Roy Mustang as their prisoner in this timeline, either. He's a strong man, Doctor, but even he has a breaking point. Do you really want to risk letting him reveal information about our mission? About your TARDIS and what it can do?"

"You have a point, and trust me, I thought of that as well," the Doctor responded. "We will get him out of there, but it won't be through bargaining."

"How, then?" she challenged him.

"Getting to that part." The Doctor leaned against the console and donned his brainy specs. When Riza opened her mouth to question him further, he promptly threw up an index finger. "Shh. Thinking."

While the Doctor was lost in thought, Riza studied Envy's pitiful form. The tiny homunculus had mostly tried to ignore her up to this point, but he seemed to think better of it as tensions rose between the soldier and the Time Lord. "Isn't it kinda obnoxious that he keeps shooting down all your ideas?" Envy whispered. "He thinks he's so smart just because he has a fancy time machine. Don't you know better than him since you lived this? I mean, come on! He's just your chauffeur! It's about damn time you start treating him like it!"

"Shut up." Riza turned her back on Envy's encasement. "I won't let you coerce me into bringing you to your father. Nice try, though."

The Doctor, meanwhile, was mumbling to himself. "Something in this timeline…or someone, rather…is still out of place…" Suddenly, he broke into a grin as an idea occurred to him. "Eureka!" He frowned thoughtfully at the exclamation. "Where did that word even come from? Hmm…Ah, good old Archimedes. Clever man, Archimedes. Quite the scholar. When all of this is over, I might visit him again—"

"Doctor, you're losing me," said Riza.

"Right. Sorry! Yes. Hold onto something." The Doctor ran excitedly around the console, flipping switches, pushing buttons, and pulling levers as he went. "Allons-y!"

Riza grabbed onto the nearest pole as the TARDIS shuddered to life. "What is it? Where are we going?"

"You'll see!"

"Hungry?"

Maes sat up in bed, startled by the sound of Kimblee's voice. Having slept and eaten on what seemed to be an irregular schedule, he wasn't sure how much time had passed since he was dragged out of the cell and locked in a dank-yet-cozy bedroom. The dark stone walls were hardly appealing, and the dim lighting wasn't easy on the eyes, but after all the hell Maes had been through since the homunculi had captured him, this small living space was almost heavenly. "Why do you people suddenly care so much about my well-being?" he asked, sliding off the bed and onto the small, dark purple area rug that extended a couple of feet each way around his bed.

"You ask that every time I bring you food," said Kimblee, "and I'll tell you the same thing I told you every other time: you need to get your strength up for a greater purpose." The crimson alchemist set a plate of food on a nearby table at the foot of the bed. "The sooner you strengthen up, the sooner we can move forward with you."

"That's not good enough," said Maes. His stomach rumbled as the smell of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and spinach quiche flooded his senses. Although the quiche would never compare to his wife's preparation, it was mouthwatering nevertheless. "The homunculi have done nothing but beat me senseless and leave me for dead in a nasty cell from the moment I got here. What's different now?"

"You're looking better," Kimblee commented, ignoring the question completely. "I see you've been using the exercise equipment over there. Is the bed comfortable enough? Are you getting enough to eat?"

These words, normally used as an expression of concern or hospitality, made Kimblee's smooth yet naturally-villainous voice sound more unnerving than ever. Although Maes refused to admit it, he actually was feeling a lot stronger. Between the cozy bed, accessible workout equipment, and regular nourishment, he almost felt like his old self. "Yes, everything's fine," he said at last. It was obvious he wouldn't get a straight answer out of the cheeky bastard. "If you won't answer my other questions, then please…at least answer this one: is Roy okay?"

"Mustang's alive," Kimblee answered. "As for okay…well, I'll let you be the judge of that."

Maes frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The father has a plan. You have an important role to play, but you're not quite strong enough for it yet. In the meantime, he would like to make use of you," he explained. "The homunculi have a task for you, Hughes, and they won't take no for an answer."

A sinking feeling crept over Maes. He was growing increasingly unsettled by the direction this conversation seemed to be heading. What were the chances this task would actually end well? "What is it?" he asked.

A sadistic expression crossed Kimblee's features for a fraction of a second, but it was gone too quickly for Maes to be certain he had seen it. "The father needs information, and he believes you would be the best one to get it." At a skeptical expression from Maes, he added, "No, you won't be torturing him. If that was all it took to get him to talk, I'd have done it myself."

"Why me?"

"Mustang trusts you. He would be more likely to open up to his best friend than to me, the military, or the homunculi," Kimblee told him. "I have a list of things for you to get from him, and I'll go over it with you before I send you in there."

Maes crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest. "Why not send Envy? He could pose as Hawkeye or something." When Kimblee didn't reply, Maes made a quick deduction. "Unless… You don't have Envy on your side anymore, do you? Something happened to him."

"That's none of your concern," said Kimblee, quickly re-establishing his apathetic swagger. "Envy's not accessible right now. He's probably off doing the father's bidding. How should I know? It's not my job to keep track of him. I'm just here to walk you through your orders."

"If you don't have Envy, then you've got nothing," said Maes. "I won't do this." There was no way he was going to manipulate his friend this way, especially with everything at stake. If he tricked Roy into revealing whatever secrets he was protecting from the future, there would be chaos. Maes couldn't even imagine what terrible things the father would do with such knowledge. If Roy was going to such great lengths to keep the information to himself, there was no telling how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands. "You can't make me."

"Can't I?" Naturally, Kimblee took this as a challenge. "We will get that information one way or another. We could do it the easy way—that's your cue—or the hard way, which would be far more painful for the flame alchemist. Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to have your fingernails ripped out one by one?"

Maes tightened his jaw. "Whatever you do to Roy…I'm sure he's already prepared to go through it to protect whatever it is he's protecting. He would never forgive me if I gave into your demands just to spare him more pain." While he believed the words to be true, it was still unbelievably hard to say them. He didn't want his own stubbornness to cause Roy more agony, but there was no way he could let himself make the same mistake General Mustang had made. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't sacrifice the country for the sake of his friend. He just couldn't.

"Well, that's cold. If you won't do this to spare your best friend…would you do it to spare your wife and daughter?"

Shock, rage, terror, and a mess of other swirling emotions coursed through Maes at the mention of his family. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Kimblee chuckled. "You're looking a little pale there, Hughes. Is this you changing your mind?"

Maes gritted his teeth, cried out in anger, and punched the lamp atop his bedside table. Screw the damn country. Screw all of it. I can't let him hurt them. I can't… Heaving, he braced one hand against the wall and hung his head, shaking uncontrollably. "Go to hell," he whispered. How could he be so weak? Was this blind desperation the same feeling Roy had experienced when given the chance to go back in time and reverse the shooting?

"I'm sorry? What was that?" Kimblee leaned forward a little. "I didn't quite catch that."

Without turning around, Maes mumbled, "I'll do it. Just…don't hurt them. Please."

Kimblee looked very pleased with himself. Maes would have loved nothing more than to punch the smug grin off the cocky asshole's face. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"How do you know this will even work?" Maes asked, hoping against hope he could back out of this. "He's smart. He'll know I'm trying to get information from him."

Kimblee laughed. "The man's been hanging from a wall in solitary confinement for days without food or water. He's delirious. Play your cards right and you'll milk it right out of him. Screw up, and…well, you know what happens."

When Alex arrived in the northern region of Amestris, it was not long before his trek was interrupted by a Briggs patrol. He quickly put his hands up and allowed the white-clad men to search through his belongings. "I'm not a spy," he insisted. "I'm here to see my sister, Olivier Mira Armstrong."

"Who says the general wants to see you?" one of the soldiers demanded, glaring suspiciously at the major's identification materials.

"Trust me, she will want to be a part of this," Alex told him.

The soldier turned away. "We'll let the general determine that herself. Come on, you'd better keep up. I've seen men larger than you crumble like little babies in this weather."

The trek was cold, quiet, and incredibly awkward. When the four men arrived, they found Briggs on red alert. Immediately, the squad leader held a gun to Alex's head. "Did you know about this? Is that why you're here?" he demanded.

"I…I don't know! Please, you have to let me in there to help!" Alex cried. If the time travelers were right, there was probably a homunculus sighting in the main hangar and the men of Briggs would shortly be joined—or, more accurately, commandeered—by troops from Central Command. "I'm a state alchemist; you've seen my credentials!"

"I don't care if you're the damn Fuhrer," said the squad leader. "We don't like outsiders around here, especially Drachman spies or tigers from Central. You ain't got my trust till you've earned it. Now move." He nudged Alex forward with a gun. "You can stay in a holding cell till the general's ready to see you."

"We don't have time for that," Alex said desperately. "If that's what I think it is, then you'll be seeing more men from Central than just me, and I can assure you they won't have your best interests in mind as I do."

There was a brief hesitation as the squad leader turned to his team. "We're behind you, sir," one said. "Whatever decision you make."

"All right, you can accompany us, but there are conditions. You will reveal everything you know when the red alert has passed, and don't you dare leave my sight. If you make me regret this, I'll shoot you in the leg. Are we clear?"

"Understood." The squad leader was definitely suspicious of how much Alex seemed to know about the red alert, and that was understandable. "Lead the way."

When Maes stepped into the prison cell, his heart sank. Roy was hanging right where they had left him, except he had since lost a lot of weight, and his unshaven face and unkempt hair made him barely recognizable. Maes didn't even want to think about how the cell's rancid odor and Roy's lack of bathroom access were connected. If it wasn't for the faint rise and fall of the general's chest, Maes would have thought his friend had died.

"Dammit, Roy…How much longer can you survive like this?" he muttered.

"Long enough." Maes was surprised to hear the battered man respond to his voice. "H-Hughes…you're alive…" Hoarse and dehydrated, Roy could speak no louder than a whisper.

"Yeah, you could say that." Restored from his days of recovery, Maes was thinking far more clearly than before, and now that he saw his friend with fresh eyes, he couldn't believe he was actually looking at a man from the future. "I guess I shouldn't be, huh?"

Roy closed his eyes. "N-no…and it's all my fault…"

"Hey, don't think like that. You did it to save me. I would have done the same for you. Here, I brought water." Gently, so as not to waste a single drop of the precious liquid, Maes eased a cup to the prisoner's lips and helped him swallow it.

Roy, who would normally be suspicious as to how Maes was here, why he looked healthy, and where the water had come from, was too far gone to question anything. "Thanks…I know y-you're not really here, but…thanks…"

So he thinks he's hallucinating, Maes thought. This would make the job far easier, but no less painful for Maes or for Roy. "I'm surprised you're seeing me and not Lieutenant Hawkeye," he said, going along with Roy's assumption that he was a mirage.

"You're my best friend, Hughes." His voice seemed to say Duh! "You're…also…my biggest regret."

"What do you mean?" Maes prompted, hoping this would lead somewhere that would satisfy Kimblee.

"I c-couldn't…couldn't save…you," Roy replied, forcing the words out, "and when I did s-save you, I…r-ruined…everything."

"What happened after I died?" Maes asked.

"Your daughter…she…she wouldn't stop screaming," Roy mumbled. "She wanted to know…to know why…why they were putting dirt on you." Maes felt his stomach churn, and for a moment, he forgot what he was there to do. Roy's disjointed musings had his attention. "You had a lot of work, you know. She was afraid y-you couldn't do your work with all that d-dirt on y-y-you…" Roy's dull black eyes seemed to see right past Maes. Perhaps a part of him was in another world. His mind certainly seemed to be going in different directions as it tried to function well enough to make conversation. "Your death…I was such a fool…" Roy closed his eyes. "Maybe it w-wasn't a fixed point in t-time, but it s-set a lot of things in motion."

"What did it set in motion?" Maes tapped his friend's cheek multiple times in an attempt to wake him up. "Roy! Stay with me. You have to tell me what my death set in motion."

"I looked into your death. I learned things. Things they d-didn't want me to know." Roy didn't seem to hear the question or remember he was talking to Maes, but words continued to spill out of his mouth nonetheless. "We s-stopped him…we s-saved Amestris…and now…now it's…it's unsaved…"

"So the father's plan failed?" Maes prompted.

"Sacrifices…" Roy muttered. "Doctor, I'm s-sorry…The circle…"

"What circle?" Maes asked. "And what doctor?"

"Gotta fix the timeline," Roy insisted. "It w-went to hell when I…when I s-saved…y-you."

Maes leaned forward and stared intently into his friend's eyes. "Roy, listen to me. You can save a lot of people by answering this question right here and now: tell me everything that happened after my funeral, including the part where you traveled through time to save me."

"You know what's ironic?" Roy whispered. "I went back in time…to save…to save you because I—I couldn't f-focus on what's important. I c-couldn't go on without…without you, but…but Riza…she's a l-lot stronger than m-me."

Maes frowned. "What do you mean?"

Roy smirked a little. "I'm still here."

Disclaimer: I do not own FMAB or Doctor Who, and I definitely don't own the quotes I used from the anime, but I will hopefully own your respect and admiration as I continue to skillfully craft an alternate ending to the FMAB universe.

AN: A lot of good stuff going on! I wanted to take the individual stories further, but the chapter was getting too long, so I'll make more happen in the next one. I'm about to enter an area of no wifi for a few days, which will leave me with plenty of free time to work on this fic. 413nepetaleijon, I'm sorry I didn't get around to an Envy interrogation this time, but don't worry, it's coming! Thanks for reading, everyone, and please leave me your thoughts if you can!