AN: Slightly later that usual, and for that I'm sorry, but this chapter was a bitch to write. I had it in my mind even before I started writing the story, but now I just couldn't find the right words for it. Ah well, it's finally here. Belated Happy Easter to those who celebrated it last Sunday!

THANK YOU to all my readers. The reviews are greatly appreciated. They chase away the monster called writer's block. Seriously they do! :D

Beta: UraharaFangirl90 and cuylerjade. Thank you both for your time and patience.

WARNING: Swearing, angst, violence and mention of disturbing imagery and situation. That sums it all.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Fullmetal Alchemist universe/manga/anime, except for this insane plot, so please don't sue!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"So, Maes. Want to tell me why you were almost killed for a couple of worthless personnel files?"

"Maybe I should start with what happened with me."

As Maes began telling his story, Edward leaned against the door to the small bathroom with a defeated look in his eyes, before sliding down to a cross-legged position. He was so angry, at his commanding officer mostly, for using him and his little brother in one of his schemes, but he was also angry at himself. Angry for losing his temper, after feeling so mature for ignoring the jibes to his height, only to lose it moments later. It was easier to get angry; it meant he would be galvanized into action somewhere in the near future, instead of letting the ever-present guilt overpower him. The guilt for what he did in the past and for dragging Al into the middle of it.

Alphonse Elric, his little brother, his weak spot and the powerful remainder of his greater sin. The innocent kid who loved playing with cats, who always smiled and had a crush on Winry, the neighbors' daughter. The one who should have never been a part of the mess that was their mother failed resurrection. And what a mess that was. It left them scarred for life, wounded so deep, that no matter how much time had passed they would never be able to put it behind them. It also made them choose the military path, a path more treacherous than Ed had ever thought. The path that would probably lead them to their doom. No, his doom; because no matter what, he would protect Al even if his life was forfeited in the process.

But first, he had to make through the latest situation. Banging his head gently on the wooden door, he listened intently on the conversation happening in the other room, his gaze gliding unseeing on broken tiles before resting on the fat, yellow moon that illuminated the bathroom. The shout of "Chimera?" coming from the other side of the door made him wince, his sensitive ears ringing from it. He knew that he would have to go back soon for another round of questions, so he was utterly unsurprised when soft footsteps stopped near the bathroom door and a calm voice asked if he could return to the room.

Sure, I'd love to. Why don't you prepare me a glass of milk to go down with it?

Well, sarcasm was lovely and all, but he still had to move his butt from the comfortable floor. Letting out a sigh, he decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns, and hoisted his body up from its sitting position. He turned around, intent on the door, when out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of himself in the uneven mirror placed above the sink.

My god, is that me? He watched transfixed as the figure in the mirror instantly copied his every move. He had to bite down on an almost hysterical giggle. His eyes were huge, standing out in his pale face like a pair of softly glowing suns, the moonlight coming from the night mistress lighting them up. A cat's eyes, strangely complimenting his too thin face, high cheekbones and white, dehydrated lips. He raised a hand to his face, his unbelieving eyes needing the physical proof provided by touch.Ed watched his hand, his pale flesh right hand, softly caressing his cracked lips. The touch was light, yet he flinched as if struck at the first contact, his mind gone blank. He didn't know how long he stood there like an idiot, gazing at his reflection until an impatient rap against the door roused him from his stupor. The conversation, right. Mental breakdown could wait for a more appropriate time. One problem at a time, please.

Closing his eyes and blocking the haunting vision of himself from his sight, he turned around and resolutely opened the door with no hesitation in his moves. The first thing he saw was Maes worried, but steady gaze and Ed drew strength from it, before turning to face the Colonel. The man looked like a wreck, his uniform wrinkled and his hair disheveled like he had run his hands through it too many times. The bags beneath his eyes were almost as dark as his pupils. He looked older and worn out, but his gaze was intense and completely focused on Edward, scanning every visible change. A short gasp was the only visible reaction when Roy noted the flesh hand, but no word was uttered. Quirking one eyebrow at the reaction, Ed silently took his previous seat, refusing to be the first to speak. The silence streched for a minute, before Roy hesitant voice was heard.

"Is it true? Are you really a chimera?"

Straight and to the point, I see. No more games tonight, then.

"Yes." came the flat reply.

"But…you look completely human." Roy disbelievingeyes flickered in Maes' direction, clearly reluctant of accepting that particular fact. "Him too?"

"Roy, I've just told you that I've jumped over an eight foot fence while carrying Edward. Could I really do that normally?" said Maes with the air of someone explaining things to a five-year-old. The Colonel frowned at the implied jab, but let it slide, the recent events having rattled him more than he cared to admit. He continued with an even tone.

"No. I guess not. But this really complicates things. The military must not know about you. The research that Tucker conducted is officially considered the most advanced on this topic." They all knew the implication to that statement, and Edward winced while thinking of another lab and more tests. That is, if he was lucky.

Never again. He would rather be dead than the plaything of another crazy scientist.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that" Maes interjected tiredly. "Seeing that it was somebody from the military behind it. Somebody from top brass."

"What evidence do you have? If I am to go to the Fuhrer with it, I must convince the man without bringing your condition into the conversation. I'd rather not lose you again. Of course, it will be very hard to explain Edward as it is." Glancing at the teen Roy added softly, like an afterthought, "I don't think you'll get back your watch."

Had Roy punched him hard in the stomach, Edward wouldn't have felt like this, like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. Not a State Alchemist? No, that couldn't be true. What was left for him if that was taken away too? How could he bring Al's body back if he lost his research sources and the leads to the Philosopher's Stone, that only the military knew? No, he would not accept it. Jumping to his feet he opened his mouth to say something, determination and desperation shinning in his eyes, but he couldn't find the words. What could he say about it with every protest dying before passing his lips? He had never really considered the situation in its finer points, his only concern being the acceptance or rejection from those who knew him. But the military was a different matter altogether, and for the first time desperation was winning his inner battle.

Head bowed down and fists clenched so tightly that the knuckles had turned white, Edward was the picture of despair. Roy regretted his thoughtless remark. Just another regret to add to his ever-growing list; but it needed to be said. Only after acknowledging that particular problem, could they think of a solution and if he wanted to win back the trust of the two people sitting at the table, Roy would need to prove himself to them. But first, he had yet to receive the answer to his question.

"You asked me what evidence I have." Maes took control of the conversation before it was further derailed into more dangerous waters. He turned to the alchemist that had yet to say a word.

"Ed, sit down. We'll think of something. I'm not letting those bastards control my life, nor yours, more that they have so far." It was the reassurance that Ed needed, and with a small nod in Maes' direction, he composed himself enough to sit down again, but refused to meet anyone's gaze. Luckily for him, Maes continued with the explanations.

"I don't have any direct evidence, but enough circumstantial exists to start an inquiry. I guess that's what got me in the position that I'm in now. And it's also where the personnel files come into play." He stopped, took a sip from his half full glass and then asked a seemly unrelated question:

"Did you know that for a country at peace, the military loses 200 men and women every year?"

Meanwhile...

Riza Hawkeye surveyed the street, but nothing seemed out of place, with the exception of the Colonel's missing car. Following her instincts, after the Alchemist's hasty retreat from the office, she decided to pay him a visit at the end of the program. Now, several hours later and no Colonel Mustang in sight she began to question her judgment. For all she knew the man was most likely enjoying the night with a beautiful blonde or brunette, or both, her imagination supplied helpfully, while she was sitting like an idiot in front of his house. She frowned and chased away the unwanted thought. Now, was not the time.

She clearly needed more sleep, the death of Maes having affected her as well. Yet there was a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

Fine, she would wait for another half an hour before going to the dorm and catching up on missed sleep.

With her back on the wall of a tall house, completely surrounded by the shadows she was nearly invisible, so it didn't surprise her that the figure silently approaching the entrance of the Colonel's house didn't spot her. It wasn't Mustang, of that she was sure. The way the man was moving being unnaturally silent and almost predatorily. Like a big cat on the prowl. Riza shivered, remembering a hunt, long ago, for a big cat that had turned man-eater.

The figure stopped in front of the door, and then started fiddling with lock. A click, several seconds later and he, Riza was sure it was a man, was in.

Hm, a common thief, or maybe something more. Cocking her gun with an almost inaudible click, she approached the house and cautiously opened the door. Her hand went for the switch, preparing to light the room when an inhuman growl sounded from her right.

AN: Huh, another cliffhanger, or should I say cliffhangers? Please don't hate me for it. All will be explained. Soon, I promise.