'How is this happening?' Cyrus thought. He backed away from the smoldering path before him. 'It can't be real.'

"No… please don't. I don't want to die!"

"I'm not giving you a choice, now burn in hell!"

Cyrus took a shallow breath, smoke invading his lungs. It brought him back to reality, but the real world was no longer safe.

Black eyes were glaring through him. The tormentor from his dreams was now in the light of day. Cyrus could see every detail. The hard lines carving the man's forehead, weighing down his brow. His metal clad uniform, displaying the career of a dangerous killer.

Cyrus took an instinctive step back. The man advanced, as if they were attached by some unseen force. Cyrus recognized one of the other military officers behind him. It was the blond haired woman who had been in those tunnels, holding her bleeding shoulder and watching him burn. Currently, her gun was drawn and pointed between his eyes. Three others stood by the woman, focused and stoic, awaiting the command to fire. The command didn't come from the dark eyed soldier.

Instead he spoke to Cyrus, his black brows creased down. "Nothing to say for yourself, Envy?" he hissed, advancing a single step forward.

Cyrus felt his lips moving to reply. Out of every question he had, the first to fall out of his head seemed insignificant. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

The man scoffed. "You go by something else now?" his tone was accusing.

'Now?' Cyrus noted the word he used. They had a history, and one, which he didn't remember anything of besides how it ended. He was going into this situation completely blind. Cyrus had no context other than the fire the man wielded and his willingness to using it on him.

He knew he had to say something. Finally Cyrus settled on answering the man's question. "Cyrus." He finally admitted. His answer gave the man pause. Cyrus was desperate to know what he was thinking. The man's black eyes twitched, dissecting the answer. "You have me mistaken for someone else." Cyrus said when the man gave no reply.

"Bullshit. The moment you saw me you ran. Have an excuse for that Homunculus?" he demanded.

"Your right, I am a homunculus…I didn't know that was a crime though." Cyrus spat back boldly. The man clenched his white gloved fists. Cyrus tried not to flinch. The crackling of fire behind him reminded Cyrus to drop his challenging tone. He studied the military man, searching for the weapon that created the inferno. He seemed to be the only one among the soldiers unarmed.

The standoff had attracted quite a crowed. The fire had died behind him, and unlike in those tunnels, Cyrus now had witnesses. He wouldn't be set ablaze in font of all these people. That was at least what he hoped. "I'm not who you think I am so leave me alone." Cyrus said, getting ready to turn away from the man and his pack of soldiers.

The General clapped his hands together. Blue alchemic light surrounded his hands before he snapped his fingers. A blast of fire flew by Cyrus' head, burning a few strands of his hair. He stood frozen; eyes wide with terror as his mind registered the blazing heat missing his skin. He made out the gasps of people around them. Cyrus looked up from the fire to face him. Those sparking gloved hands were raised towards him.

'Alchemy.' Cyrus realized. He created the fire using alchemy, ignited by those gloves. Everything made sense, but Cyrus couldn't think about celebrating. His mouth was dry, and now the fear rose in him. Like it did that first night he awoke in his new life.

"That was a warning shot. Get down on your knees, now." The man hissed. Slow, Cyrus complied.

The soldiers advanced on him once Cyrus was on the ground. The dark eyed leader of the pack walked closer, and Cyrus knew he was going to die. The people around him wouldn't help him. How could they help him if it meant going against the military man and the devastating fire he possessed? He was alone, like he was in the tunnels, only this time he would have an audience to his demise.

Staring up into the onyx eyes of his previous and soon to be killer. Cyrus remembered a scenario very similar.

On his knees which crushed against the rough stone beneath him, looking up at the man who was poised to attack. Then fire. His own blood curdling screams bounced off the tunnel walls. Before his body could regenerate more fire engulfed him again and again and again. Then there was darkness.

Cyrus was back in the present when the man was upon him, standing poised to attack. His body reacted before he could think. He stumbled up to his feet and bolted in the opposite direction, fleeing for his life. Heavy boots dashed after him, but no fire consumed him like he suspected. The people around them did save him in a way. The man couldn't unleash his fire into the crowed, so the crowed was exactly where Cyrus ran.

He could get away, he'd survive this time. Cyrus repeated this in his mind as his bare feet smacked the street below him. The violin case on his shoulder swung and hindered his running. He pulled it closer as he dashed faster.

Had he lost them? He felt as if it wouldn't be worth turning to find out. The edge of the city was in his sights. He was almost there, but gasped in horror when he realized where his body had been taking him. He was running back towards camp, which was absolutely out of the question. He would be damned if he brought the man and his fire to his family. Cyrus took a sharp left, weaving back into the city. Once he lost them then he'd return to camp and warn everybody. He and the Caravan would be long gone by the time the military followed him there.

He was back onto a sidewalk, running parallel to a long line of buildings. He was jarred to a stop as something snagged his shoulder. Looking back, he saw a railing had wrapped around the strap of the violin case and yanked it off his shoulder. The case thud to the ground. He couldn't leave Boamos' violin behind, it was one of the few things he had left of him. Cyrus scrambled to grab the case, looking up to see this had bought his pursuers far too much time. He was able to evade by ducking into an ally.

Cyrus inhaled sharply. This was a mistake. Ahead he saw he had run into a dead end. What was worse, there was no longer a shield of people for him to hide in. 'Get above them.' He thought. Cyrus ran towards the alley's back wall. He would propel himself off each opposite facing wall until he was on the roof. If he gained the higher ground he'd loose them.

He was about half way up before the sound of a snap seemed to stop time. Searing fire was licking up his feet and lower legs. "Ah!" he gasped, pain boiling into his skin. Cyrus lost his footing and came crashing to the ground.

The impact hurt, but was nothing compared to the agonizing burning of his legs. Cyrus slapped at his legs to extinguish them, burning his hands in the process. His body reacted to the injury, crackling with red lightning as it always did. The fire had burned away the lower half of his inherited pants, showing off the angry red flesh underneath.

Cyrus stared at the damage in shock. He exhaled through his teeth, hissing out his pain. He hovered his trembling hands over the wounds uselessly.

Footsteps approached and his head shot up. Too late he remembered who had caused the pain. His pursuers raced from the entrance of the ally towards him. Cyrus drug himself backwards on still healing hands, whimpering. It was pointless as the man and his soldiers were upon him.

The fire alchemist clapped his hands again and raised a hand to snap. Cyrus' vision went dark. Fire would consume his body whole this time. In a sad attempt to protect himself Cyrus raised his hands in front of his face. He winced in anticipation of the agony that would follow. None came, and he glanced at the fire maker.

"Please no. Don't I-" Cyrus begged, not even sure what he was saying, though it was all hauntingly familiar. In those tunnels he had pleaded for mercy, and then he died. Would the same happen now? Was he going to die? The pain, his approaching death, it was all too much take.

He gagged. Cyrus threw up his breakfast onto the street, leaving his stomach and throat boiling. His whole body ached in different levels of pain. His legs were healing but still stung. His eyes watered from retching up the contents of his stomach. He wanted to get up and run. A stronger part of him thought he'd be able to absorb the damage and pain if it meant getting passed the man. But he knew his own limits, which he had passed a while ago. Instead, he looked up at his attacker, finding the same glare on his pale face, which he had worn all those years ago.

The soldiers with him didn't seem as confident. "Sir." Said the blonde woman. Cyrus broke his gaze with the man to lock eyes with her. Her face was apprehensive. "Something isn't' right. I don't recall Envy acting like this."

The military man's face twitched. "What's wrong Envy? I thought begging humans for mercy was beneath you?" Growled the man.

Cyrus shook his head, still clinging to his raw legs. "I don't know what you're talking about, I swear I don't." he breathed.

The man pursed his lips. "Pull the car around." He said back to his men. Cyrus watched as one of the soldiers advanced on him. He was on the taller and slim side and had short dirty blond hair. The slim man wasted no time cuffing Cyrus' hands behind his back. He yanked him up onto his almost healed feet. Cyrus glanced back at Boamos' violin case left on the ally floor. The shortest dark-haired soldier retrieved it.

What was going to happen to him? Were they taking him out of the public to kill him? Was he going to be broiled until his stone burned away?

Cyrus took a shallow breath as the reality of this scenario began to dawn to him. He could run. He could break the cuffs digging into his wrists and escape if it wasn't for the fire alchemist. The man watched him with contempt. His fingers poised to snap and engulf him again if he considered running. He couldn't take the pain and he knew it. The sting of his legs standing as a reminder that it could get much, much worse.

As a result, Cyrus walked with the soldiers as they drug him to a truck that pulled up in front of the ally. Cyrus tripped when they shoved him into the back of the metal automobile. The Black-eyed man and the blond woman got into the back with him, most likely assuming he would try and escape. He had been actively planning that very thing. The metal doors seemed thin enough, so it wouldn't have been hard for him rip them apart and jump out. But now Cyrus sat frozen and shrinking under the gaze of the dark eyed man.

Cyrus' gaze had finally found the floor, unable to take the judgmental stairs from his soon to be killer. His face fell yet again as he observed the damage he took. The pain was gone and his legs completely healed. But Shelta's grandfathers pants were charred up to his knees. On top of his fear, he now felt guilty. Shelta had been very protective of her grandfather's things. The fact she gave Cyrus both the man's name and clothes meant a lot. He had never appreciated this until he saw the burnt remains of the article of clothing.

Cyrus swallowed as the car screeched to a halt and the doors yanked open. He shuttered as the man grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him out. They had arrived within the walls of a military base. Not just any military base either. It was the massive fortress in the middle of the city. Cyrus wasn't given the time to gawk at the vast court yard and towering white buildings. They pulled him along the paved walkway and into one of the structures.

They marched down a multitude of hallways before arriving in a small, white, windowless room. It had a single metal table bolted to the floor in the middle of the room and two chairs on either side of it. The only things adorning the plain white walls were a large mirror and a phone.

The soldiers wasted no time shoving Cyrus into a chair at the table. His hands and feet were chained to the table and floor, as if they expected him to transform into some sort of monster. The chains gave a soft rattling sound from Cyrus' trembling hands.

He was still alive...for the time being, and by the looks of things they were going to question him as opposed to kill him. For the first time since he locked eyes with the fire alchemist, Cyrus felt a twinge of hope. 'I can talk my way out of this.' If he could convince these people he had done nothing wrong…He ran because he was scared and thought they were going to kill him. That argument would be a lot easier to make if he could remember why the man wanted him dead in his first life.

Cyrus watched the slim soldier sit in the opposite chair from him. He shed his military jacket to get more comfortable. The smoldering black-eyed man and the blond woman stood behind him. The other two had left the room but Cyrus was sure they were listening. The two standing were like statues, the man locked in place by his rage and the woman stoic by his side. The slim man lit a cigarette and puffed it a few times. He exhaled, before his light eyes found Cyrus.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, which Cyrus replied with a simple shake of his head. The man wrinkled his nose but then pointed towards the two behind him. "Well do you know them?"

"No." Cyrus breathed. Though he had seen the two in his visions more times than he had seen his own reflection, it wasn't actually a lie. He didn't know them. For his whole life so far he had questioned if they were even real, until now.

"Alright, well, this is General Roy Mustang." The smoking man introduced, pointing to the Black-eyed man. A bell went off in Cyrus' mind as the familiar name made sense to him. General Mustang, aka the Flame Alchemist…it all was like some cruel joke. "And this is Captain Riza Hawkeye. You can call me Havoc. I'll be asking you a few questions. We'll start with an easy one. What's your name?"

Cyrus made a face. He had already given his name before they chased him down, so they didn't believe him. Never the less he answered. "I'm Cyrus." He answered.

"Nice to meet you Cyrus." Havoc said with a smile, which faded just as fast. "You see Cyrus; the problem is you happen to look exactly like a dangerous felon on record. He was a homunculus like you, but the thing is, we thought he was dead."

"If he's dead then why am I here?" Cyrus questioned.

"Well, you are a Homunculus and so was he. Your kind are hard to kill. It's not a stretch you aren't the same person." Havoc explained.

"But I'm not!" Cyrus insisted. He shrank back when his outburst made the Flame Alchemist, Mustang raise his hand to snap. It was strange, finally having a name to match the man in his nightmares. The gloved hand returned to his side once Cyrus fell silent.

Havoc continued to puff his cigarette until it was gone, lighting another in its place. "Fair enough, maybe you're not. How about we see." Havoc presented a file from a locked case. He skimmed through the pages before plopping the file open in front of Cyrus. "Is that you?" he asked, referring to a picture that Cyrus locked onto immediately. Staring back at him was a picture, which mine as well have been his reflection. Thin but muscular form, pale skin and a softer featured face crowned by waist long black hair. The eyes were the same purple. Even his original black clothes hidden under his human clothes, were an exact match. What was going on?

"It…looks like me." Cyrus admitted.

"Is it you?" Havoc asked. Cyrus almost said no, but he remembered his missing memories. He was older than two, and other then the memory of Mustang, and the occasional glimpse of his Cretan mother, there was nothing else. Was it possible this person was him from his first life? This was disconcerting, since they had said he was a dangerous felon. Was that why he was being chased in those tunnels? Had he committed some sort of crime?

"Who was he?" Cyrus settled on saying, which wasn't an answer to the original question but was somewhat safe.

"A felon," Havoc repeated, seeming irritated Cyrus had dodged his question. "His name was Envy. He was a homunculus who had committed crimes to many to count." He explained finally. "He was caught, and then executed by the General here." He said, pointing over his shoulder to the scornful man behind him. The stone pulsed fast in Cyrus' chest as he felt his stomach drop.

"How was he executed?" Cyrus whispered.

"By fire." Mustang answered. It had been the first time he spoke since they entered the building, and Cyrus felt the room ice over. 'Oh no…' he thought. Was it him? So far the similarities were too great to be a coincidence.

"I-if he's dead then how could it be me?" Cyrus countered. So far it was his only defense. Havoc nodded as if in agreement with him. It would have been convincing evidence, if he didn't have the memory of the Cretan woman and her white stones. He remembered back, to the first time he dreamt of that place, falling into darkness. He didn't know who he was but he was sure he was dead. Then the girl came and brought him back with one of her three stones.

The other two stones resided in Lorelei and Bounty. His siblings were oblivious to their past as well. With this in mind, it was possible for him to have been this other homunculus killed by Mustang and then revived. None of this he would be sharing with the three in front of him.

"Very true. So then how about this? Tell me everything about your life." Havoc offered instead. "Let's start at the beginning. Who was the alchemist who created you?" Cyrus swallowed. He couldn't give up his mother's identity, and he was sure 'I don't know' wouldn't be an acceptable answer. Should he lie? These people seemed to know more about him then he did. He imagined the punishment would be intense if they caught him in a lie.

"I've never met them…I was abandoned in the woods." Cyrus settled on. It wasn't untrue, and it wouldn't trace back to either his family or the Cretan girl.

"What happened next?" Havoc pushed. Cyrus had to suppress his growing fear. He couldn't mention the gypsies or Trovius. What would happen to them if he was found guilty of whatever they were accusing him of? He shuttered at the thought. He decided to be vague and embellish on things that would be impossible for them to look into. "I was found in the woods by a few travelers outside of Dublith about two years ago. I…heard the name Cyrus from one of them and liked it. I knew I wasn't human, so I met an alchemist on the road and they told me I was a homunculus."

"Who was this alchemist?" Havoc interrupted.

"I don't remember their name." he said. Havoc gave him a raised eyebrow. "It's been two years." He added in his defense when the three were not convinced.

"Fair enough. Continue." Havoc said, leaning back in his chair.

"After that, I traveled with a few people I met. Though I, came here alone…I wanted to see Central and it wasn't where they were going." Now he was lying. He wasn't sure what else he could add to put more distance between him and the gypsies.

"Hm, and was Boamos one of these people you 'traveled' with?" Havoc asked. Cyrus stared at him in shock before he remembered they had his violin case. In that case was Boamos' hand written note to him, which he had signed. A chill went up his spine as he was terrified of the possibility that they could use this to find his family.

"Yes… he-" Cyrus choked on a sob, swallowing hard trying to get it together. "He was a good friend of mine. That violin, it had been his. He gave it to me and-" Cyrus gritted his teeth as his eyes began to water. 'Not now.' Not when his life was on the line he couldn't break down.

"You ok?" Havoc asked, not sounding concerned.

"He died." He finally breathed, realizing it had been the first time he admitted it to himself out loud. The tears finally spilled over his lashes, his stair focused on his bound hands. Even still he continued. "He died about a month ago. That's when I went off by myself. I don't know where the others are."

"Sorry about your friend, but you do realize without someone else we can ask to back up your story we can't go with it right?" Havoc stated curtly. "How about you tell us where you buried your friend and that can support your story." He offered.

Cyrus felt sick. He would rather die than tell these people about the Gypsies. He would be damned if they defiled Boamos' grave. "Somewhere on the road in the East. We had no money for a tomb stone." He finally answered.

"That doesn't help us." Havoc said.

"I'm sorry but that's all I can offer." Cyrus said. There was a long pause before Havoc sighed, heaving himself off the chair.

"Alright. You sit tight and we'll be back." He explained as the three exited the room, leaving Cyrus to contemplate his fate.

"Well he's lying." Hawkeye said from behind the glass in the opposite room. They were looking at their homunculus prisoner fidget in his seat from behind the false mirror.

"Definitely, but I don't think about everything." Havoc said from the chair against the wall. Mustang glanced away from their prisoner and focused on Havoc, along with Riza, Breda, and Furey. "When I asked him if he knew you guys, I didn't see deception I saw doubt. He seemed confused when he saw the file of Envy. Only when I asked him about being with other people did he begin to lie."

"He's protecting someone then." Hawkeye observed. "There's someone most likely in the city that's with him but he doesn't want us to know."

"How is he even still alive?" Mustang mumbled to himself, starring at the creature through the glass. "I burned away every life he had, and then I saw him kill himself."

"Well you both didn't do a good enough job I guess." Havoc added, earning a glare from his superior.

"Sir, what if this is a similar case to Selim's?" Riza asked. That had the room's attention. "Is there a chance he has no recollection of his past life as Envy like Selim has no recollection of being Pride?"

"How did he live to loss his memories in the first place?" Mustang wondered. His tone was bitter. Riza gave a shrug, not having an answer to that question. Mustang stiffened as he saw Envy fiddle with his chains, then glancing back at the door. Mustang assumed the only reason he didn't rip himself free was he knew he was being watched. "If he's lost his memories then we can try to spark something." He mused, marching out of the room with his men in tow.

"Um, is that such a good idea sir?" Furey asked.

"It's the only way we can know for sure. If nothing works then he'll be moved into military protection and observation like Selim. If not-" he didn't finish his thought.

Cyrus jumped when Mustang shoved the door open. "Do you recognize this man?" Mustang hissed, tossing a file down onto the table next to Envy's file. Cyrus pulled his eyes away from the intimidating man too instead look at the picture. There were two drawn representations of two people. An older man with a hard, wrinkled face and cold eyes. He had shoulder length blond hair and pale skin. His face was intimidating, but Cyrus didn't recognize the elderly man. Next to him was a much younger man in his twenties. Cyrus wondered if they were the same person but during different points in their life.

"N-no I don't know them." Cyrus finally said.

"What about the name 'Father?' Ring any bells?" Mustang added. 'Father?' Cyrus thought. What a weird thing to have as a name. Then again Envy was also a strange name; they had to be code for something. He shook his head. Mustang growled in frustration but luckily Havoc came to Cyrus' rescue.

"You see Cyrus. We have a theory. We suspect you may have amnesia, hence why you don't remember any of this."

Cyrus shook his head, frustration welling up. "I don't know, I really-"

"Does the name Maes Hughes mean anything to you?" Mustang asked. Cyrus sensed a dramatic change in tone as the other soldiers stiffened. Glancing up at the General Cyrus felt himself shrinking under his glare. In fact, it matched the look he gave him before he unleashed his onslaught of fire in those tunnels. Through that stair he could feel the heat on his skin and hear his screams echoing off those brick walls.

"N-no." Cyrus whispered, snapping back to reality.

Mustang frowned before he reached into his coat, making Cyrus flinch. He yanked out his wallet and pulled out a small picture, slamming it down on the table in front of Cyrus. He looked down. General Mustang was to the left of the photo looking a few years younger. Standing next to him was a man also in military garb. He was about the same size as the general, but he had lighter hair brushed back. He had an angular jaw and stubble of a beard. The man wore square glasses and a wide smile, an arm around the General's shoulder in a playful manner.

He tried hard, but Cyrus could not for the life of him recall the cheerful man. He glanced back up at the scowling General, shaking his head. He winced again as this brought about a new wave of anger from Mustang. "Nothing at all!? You better try harder or-"

"Permission to try something Sir?" Hawkeye interrupted in a monotone voice. Mustang raised an eye brow before taking a step away from Cyrus, giving a nod of approval. The stoic woman approached the table for the first time, and to Cyrus' surprise she unshackled him. No longer confined, Havoc's gun and Mustang's gloved hand pointed at him, a reminder not to try and run.

She ordered him to stand by the wall with the phone. He happened to notice she grabbed one of the photos on the table before walking over to the corner with him. "I'm going to try something, and all I need you to do is follow a simple command. Can you do that?" she asked him.

Cyrus nodded once, watching as the woman pulled her own gun from its holster. She pulled the cartage out, emptied the bullets then clicked it back together within seconds. He was surprised when she then offered the gun to him. Mustang flinched, approaching to stop the experiment until Hawkeye shot him a look. "I'm going to say a few words into the receiver; after I pause you will point the gun at my head and pull back the hammer. I will count to three and turn, and then you will pull the trigger." She explained, placing the gun in his hand. Cyrus looked at the weapon, his teeth clenched. "It's not loaded." She added when she noticed his hesitation. He also noticed how the general was not reacting well to the experiment. He was shaking with rage in the corner. All this meant something to these people.

Riza picked up the phone and place it to her ear. Then she began to speak. "I need you to connect me to colonel Mustang right away." She said in a deep, urgent tone. She became angry. "You are speaking to lieutenant colonel Hughes. This is a matter of life and death!"

'Hughes?' He thought, as in the same Hughes they were questioning him about? Cyrus wondered what this had to do with the man in the picture. "What, are you trying to waste time? It's UNCLE, SUGAR, OLIVER, then 8, 0, 0. Will you hurry! It's an emergency!" then she paused. Cyrus swallowed before pointing the gun towards the back of her head, clicking it in place to fire. He wondered what this would accomplish, but he went along with it anyway. He'd do anything if it meant going home. Though he did find it strange as she began counting down from three. After following that script from before then counting down. It was like they were missing the rest of it… He didn't have time to think about it as she spun around. She held up the picture of the general and the man named Hughes in front of her face as he pulled the trigger.

Cyrus exhaled, staring at the smiling man from behind the gun. The image spun with the room. Then the room and the soldiers were gone. He was far away in a different time.

It was nighttime over Central, under a single street lamp in the park. He held the gun to the military man's head. The bearded man looked back at him in horror.

"You look surprised." He snickered, amused by the man's face.

"W-what the hell are you?" Hughes gasped, staring back in terror. Still smiling, he pulled the trigger. Hughes stumbled back in the phone booth then slid to the ground, bleeding out his life. Reaching out over the man's body he took the phone hanging from its cord and hung it up. He stepped back, looking down to admire his work.

"You humans don't make any sense to me. You throw away your lives for nothing." He sighed, stepping back onto the path and leaving the man to die.

Cyrus gasped as the gun clanked to the floor. He backed away from Hawkeye holding the picture. He tripped in his hast and fell to the ground next to the weapon. He glanced around the room, looking at the many faces glaring at him. There were more than the three soldiers, and the room spun. He realized the other people weren't in the room but were from another times, other moments in another life. It was too much. He wanted it to stop. He knew it all, as if they were dreams…not dreams, memories of a different time. Gripping his head, he heard his own voice somewhere in the sea of faces and memories.

"Fool, you just have to forsake one village to save an entire country."

"To bad you don't have the stomach to do the logical thing."

"Can you really shoot such a sad face? Can you boy?"

"I shouldn't be surprised! That's just how all you humans are."

"This time around I'll go with a younger cuter model, what do you say?"

"You humans don't make any sense to me…you throw away your lives for nothing."

"Another foolish human."

It all stopped.

He was standing in a dark room, looking up at a man sitting in a stone chair connected by tubs and wires. His eyes were cold and his skin wrinkled, curtained by a head of blond and gray hair. He had a hand resting under his jaw, seeming almost board as he looked over his finished work before him. "You will be my middle child, hiding among the humans with the powers I, your father, have bestowed upon you. Born from my jealousy, you are to be loyal to me until the Promised Day is upon us. Do you understand, Envy?" the man waited for a reply.

He felt his own lips pull up into a smile. "I do, Father."