A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! This week, I have discovered that the task of cosplay sewing doesn't have to interfere with my fanfic writing; I'm in crunch time for a con coming up this weekend, and sewing gives me time to think over plotlines. Convenient! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this week's chapter. Tainted Blood is now officially longer than my last long-form fic Father Figure!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-six - Get the Gang Back

ABANDONED HOUSE, UNINHABITED ZONE, JADAD

0627 HOURS, APRIL 25TH

He woke slowly, tiredness dragging at his limbs after the late night before. Roy nearly groaned aloud as he shifted position on the pallet, the movement setting off aches in his back and throat. He grimaced, coughing quietly as he forced his eyes open. The doorway, leading out to the mostly-open courtyard, was brightened by the soft grey light that signalled dawn.

Pushing himself up on one elbow, he looked across to where Riza slept, curled on her side with one hand tucked close against her ribs, holding on to the protection charm, and the other beneath the tiny pillow attached to the bedroll. Her expression was contented, her bangs moving slightly with the exhale of each breath.

He smiled, though with a twinge of sadness. This was probably the first real, non-vampiric sleep she had had in two days or more.

Tossing aside the blanket, he got up stealthily, slipping across to drop to one knee beside her. He held a hand suspended over her shoulder, waiting… there. The faint aura of heat her body gave off brushed against his palm, something that wouldn't happen if the vampire persona were in charge. Of course, the fact that she had one hand curled around the charm vouched for her returned humanity as well.

The four of them had talked until nearly two in the morning, at which point, it became very obvious how much 'the transition' really took out of Riza. She had been struggling to stay awake, putting her usual steel-willed resolve toward continuing to answer their questions and lay plans, when Roy called a halt so that they could all rest up. She had protested, wanting to continue when the work was obviously important, but Scar had agreed that rest was in order, and Miles had followed suit. Outvoted, Riza had been asleep before the three men decided who would stand guard in case Kimblee came back.

Smiling fondly, he reached out to brush back a lock of her hair from her face. Stubborn woman, he thought, chiding gently. You deserve the rest, so take it.

Getting to his feet, he threw a quick glance at Miles on the third pallet, still fast asleep with his mouth open slightly and his hair unbound from its usual ponytail. Roy skirted around his feet to the door, stepping out into the cool morning. This far into the uninhabited zone of the city, they couldn't hear the early morning hustle and bustle of the market streets, or the temple chimes calling warriors and acolytes to prayer. All was quiet, all was still, all was peaceful.

"Are you usually this early a riser?"

Scar spoke from somewhere to his left, and Roy nearly jumped. The warrior priest has tugged aside some of the overhead tarpaulins, leaving a gap about a metre square. Sunlight came through at an oblique angle, and he sat in the patch it left on the balcony floor, keeping so still that Roy hadn't noticed him right away. His posture was the same as during the interrogation the night before; legs folded, hands in his lap, his eyes closed in apparent meditation.

"Only when I have to be. Shifts start early at Headquarters," he answered quietly, so as not to wake the others. Leaning folded arms on the railing, he looked down the sand-dusted flagstones of the courtyard. "Kimblee didn't come back at all last night?"

The warrior shook his head. "Not that I heard or saw, but I didn't expect him to try again so soon. He knows we would have been ready and protected, and he'll want to catch us vulnerable and unaware."

Roy's eyes traced the curve of the circle of runes below, his mouth in a grim line. "It's no fun for him if it isn't a surprise," he muttered darkly. "Too bad for him that, at this point, it'll be weeks before we let down our guard, now that we know he's out there and we have an encyclopedic source of information on vampires."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that." Scar stood, either finished with or abandoning his meditations. "It might be beneficial for the Lieutenant to speak to one of our scholars, to take down a complete account of… her condition."

"…In case it happens again, somehow?"

"So that history remembers." Scar folded his muscled arms, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug. "I won't lie and say the priesthood won't use it as an example of the evils of alchemy, after the way Kimblee remade himself. But with as strange a case as this is, it should be documented."

Something about this statement set a bell ringing in Roy's mind. The way Kimblee remade himself… with alchemy…. Cautious excitement fluttered briefly in his chest at the spark of an idea. "How hard would it be to get the priesthood to condone the use of alchemy? If it were a use of a blasphemy to fight an example of blasphemy?"

A single white eyebrow lifted, red eyes going to Roy's hands. "…Fighting fire with fire? It would depend."

"On what?"

"On how good your sales pitch is," Miles' voice said from behind them, the man himself emerging, twisting his hair into its customary ponytail as he did so. He gave Roy a somewhat doubtful look. "And that's assuming, of course, that fire can kill something like him."

Roy frowned, thinking. "The legends don't give any indications as to what might do the job?"

"I remember reading about some of them, but I think a refresher course might be in order before I go trying to make suggestions," Miles answered. He leaned back against the wall, indicating the doorway to the room where Riza slept on with a tilt of his head. "And since this is a special breed of vampire… we might need specialized knowledge of them."

"From what she told us," Scar put in, "the vampire persona comes with something like instinctive knowledge of its powers and limitations. If she had that, she might also have a way to destroy Kimblee completely."

"Fair point," Roy agreed. His gaze travelled upward, to where a sliver of blue sky was visible through the gap in the tarpaulins. It was the pale, faded blue of early morning, the newly-risen sun bleaching the colour. "Miles, when you say 'refresher course,' you mean the library where we met with Scar's Master when we arrived?"

Following his gaze, and realizing what Roy must be thinking, Miles nodded. "She maybe a little weakened by the sunlight, but it's safer to move from here now that the sun is up and Kimblee is likely back in his hiding place," he said. "Whatever information she doesn't have on killing vampires, I'm hoping the library can give us."

"We'll putting civilians at a greater risk, moving to a populated area," Roy noted, folding his arms as he leaned back against the railing. "If Kimblee can't get to us or the Lieutenant, he might decide to vent his anger on bystanders."

"Civilians are already at risk, every night, with him on the loose." All three men looked up as Riza appeared in the doorway. She was still strangely pale, and had to lean on the carved stone side of the doorway for support, but her eyes were alert and bright, her lips set in determination. "The greater risk is leaving him out there, unchecked."

Scar regarded her for a moment before speaking. "Do you have any suggestions for keeping him in check?"

"Permanently? Aside from flat-out killing him, I'm afraid not." She wrapped both arms around herself in a light self-hug, the abaya itself not quite enough to keep her warm in the cool morning air. "But on a temporary basis, I did have one idea." She pointed to the first floor and the symbols still sketched into the sand. "If we put a large enough circle around his hiding place, while he's sleeping during the day, could we keep him from going out at night?"

"If we knew where he was, yes." Miles was frowning, his eyes one the floor but his gaze introspective. "He knows that we had found the hiding place in the abandoned inn, and now that he no longer has backup, he may have decided it was too dangerous to stay there."

"You could sense his presence as a vampire," Scar noted. "Can you still sense him now?"

Riza was quiet a moment, then shook her head. "Only the faintest trace, and not from any particular direction." She smiled faintly. "I suppose it would be a tall order to put a circle around the entire city."

Roy returned the smile, but it faded quickly. "About the best we can hope for at this point is that we'll find some useful information quickly, and leave civilian protection to the night patrols. As long as Kimblee doesn't get impatient and start attacking indiscriminately, we should be okay."

"You're expecting him to play the long game," Miles warned. "That was never his style. And if he has the same anger management issues that Lieutenant Hawkeye developed – my apologies, Lieutenant –" She waved away the concern. "– then he's likely to retaliate even faster." His expression turned grim. "With the patrols spread as thin as they are, they may not be able to respond to an attack in time, if at all."

When Scar spoke, his tone was equally grave. "We need a new defensive plan."

A thought sparked in the back of Roy's mind, flying to the forefront. He froze, thinking it over, before slowly breaking into a smile. "…I think I might have an idea." He paused as the others all looked to him. "We need more warm bodies on the ground… and I know where we can get some."

CENTRAL MILITARY HEADQUARTERS, CENTRAL CITY

0943 HOURS, APRIL 25TH

It was still early enough in the day, and soon enough after his first cup of coffee, that Breda was not quite awake as he picked through the rubble of the partially destroyed office. Granted, the Colonel had been the only one working here when Father had destroyed half the garrison, but since he wasn't here to pack his own stuff into boxes for placement in the new temporary offices, it fell to him and Fuery.

"Whoa…" came the soft exclamation from across the room. "I think this is the Colonel's datebook." Breda looked over in time to see his young partner frowning at the contents of the black leather-bound volume. "…No wonder he barely ever got his work done."

"Is that his datebook, or his alchemy notes?" Breda grinned when Fuery looked up, curious. "You didn't know? The Boss codes his private research like a diary of dates with women."

Fuery's eyes strayed slowly back to the book in his hand. "…This could be either one," he muttered. "I hope Lieutenant Hawkeye never saw it. If she did, she –"

Across the room, sitting on a desk covered in glass shards and drywall dust, the telephone rang.

Both men jumped, exchanging a surprise look. "Didn't think the phones would be working up here," Breda said, getting to his feet and picking his way across the debris-strewn floor. Tarpaulins covering the blasted-out wall flapped in the spring breeze, stirring up more dust, and he turned away from it as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" He almost added 'Colonel Mustang's office' out of reflex, but quickly stopped himself.

The audio of the voice on the other end was scratchy and overlaid with the occasional patch of static, but understandable. "Good morning, Breda. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"

"Lieutenant!" Shock widened his eyes, and he watched Fuery's head whip around in his direction. Motioning him over with one hand, he grinned into the receiver. "Good to hear your voice! Last we knew, you were missing in action!"

"Hawkeye!" Practically skidding to a stop beside the phone that Breda held away from his ear to share, Fuery radiated relief and excitement. "Hawkeye, are you okay?!"

There was a short pause as the words made the electronic journey halfway across the country. When she answered, it was clear she was smiling; she and Fuery had long had an older-sister-younger-brother kind of rapport. "I'm as well as I can be. The Colonel tells me he told Rebecca about… what happened to me?"

"You mean about how you're apparently some kind of vampire, now?" Breda asked, his smile slipping, but only a little. His eyes strayed to the brightness visible beyond the tarpaulins. "Yeah, we heard. If that's the case, isn't it past your bedtime? No offense."

"None taken. And no, I very much need to stay awake, because I have several calls and arrangements to make, and they're all extremely time-sensitive." She paused only to take a breath. "How is the murder investigation progressing?"

The men exchanged a glance before Fuery responded. "We've done just about all we can on this end. The charges are ready to be laid whenever we catch up to the suspect." He hesitated. "Have you caught up to the suspect?"

"…Yes, and no," she hedged. "It's complicated to explain over the phone, and like I said, I have other calls to make today. For now, answer me this: how soon can you be on a train east?"

She was using her usual businesslike office tone, the one that said she had a purpose and would not be deterred from it. Breda did a quick set of mental math, factoring time to get travel approval, to pack, what times the next few trains left the city…. "Probably… two hours? Two and a half?"

"Try for two, or less if you can," was the calm order. "When you go to request travel approval from Grumman, tell him it's to come out east and help bring the killer in. You'll be meeting up with Falman and Rebecca in East City, then signing a truck out of the motor pool. It's a three day drive, but they'll take care of organizing supplies, so bring only what you need from Central." There was a split-second pause before she added, "These orders are from the Colonel, by the way. I'm just the messenger. Any questions?"

Breda could tell just how many questions were gathering inside Fuery's head, and spoke before the younger man could. "Nothing we can ask when we get there," he said, matching her professional tone. "We'll check in before we depart East City. Anything else, sir?"

He could hear her smile on the line again. "Just come ready to work," she answered. "And step on it. Safe travels."

Hanging up, the two of them stood in the disaster zone of an office for a long moment, trying to process the strange call. Orders from the Colonel, relayed by a Lieutenant they had heard was off on her own, essentially gone rogue, telling them to come to Ishval to bring in a vampiric murderer?

"I suppose it's occurred to you," Breda said slowly, "that Hawkeye, having been turned into a vampire, might have hijacked the phone lines and is trying to lure us into a trap?"

"Yeah…" Fuery answered, just as hesitantly. "But… even if that's the case… don't we owe it to her to go? And if we don't owe it to her, we at least do to the Colonel. If it weren't for them, we would have ended up being prosecuted for desertion after the Promised Day."

"My thoughts exactly," he agreed, turning toward the door, glass crunching underfoot. "But I don't think we need a reason. She gave us two hours to get a train; let's see if we can't do it in less than that."

GUN RANGE, EAST CITY MILITARY HEADQUARTERS, EAST CITY

1003 HOURS, APRIL 25TH

With earbuds jammed in to prevent her own deafening by firearm, it took Rebecca nearly thirty seconds to notice the man waving urgently at her as he approached from her left. Swiftly replacing the safety on her weapons, she set it on a shelf just inside the firing booth, stepping back onto the walkway that ran along behind.

"What is it?" she asked, digging one foam bud from her ear. The muffled staccato of others practicing in the range suddenly became crisp and clear.

"Phone call, sir." The man passed her the body of a telephone, trailed by an extra-long cord, before handing her the receiver. "They said it was urgent."

"Great," she muttered, and then louder, into the receiver. "This is Second Lieutenant Catalina. I'm in the middle of something here, so if you don't mind making it quick?"

"Are you in the middle of a firefight?"

"Riza!" Her heart leapt at the familiar voice, relief rushing through her in a wave. "Oh my gosh, it's you. You're alive! I don't – hang on a second."

Moving to one side, she pulled open the door to an equipment storage room at the rear of the range, and stepped inside, muffling the noise outside once again. "There, now I can actually hear myself think. Are you okay?"

"Yes. And of course I'm alive; I was off-station, not dead."

"'Off-station?'" she echoed incredulously. "You call being turned into a vampire and going rogue being 'off-station?!'"

There was the long hiss of a deep sigh over the phone. "Becca, please, we can talk about it more when you get here. Right now, I have something far more important to discuss, so if you could stop interrupting for two minutes and –"

"What do you mean 'when I get there?' You mean Ishval?"

"Exactly. Breda and Fuery are coming out from Central to meet with you and Falman. I need the two of you to sign out a truck and stock it for a three day drive to Jadad. Food, blankets, fuel, medical supplies if you think you'll need them, emergency kit, the works. Understood?"

Rebecca nodded, creating a mental checklist in her head. The motor pool would have the truck, Supply would have the necessaries to stock it and have a good idea what might be needed by four people for three days, any roadblocks could be cleared up by namedropping Hawkeye, Mustang or probably Grumman himself…. "What about Hayate? Should I bring him along?"

"Please do. We may have need of his tracking skills." She hesitated, but only briefly. "The killer is here, Rebecca, and we think we may have a shot at taking him down… but we're going to need everybody on this."

"Say no more. I read you loud and clear," she answered grimly. "And with the four of us taking turns driving, we can cut our transit time in half. If we leave by ten p.m. tonight, at the latest, we could be there by early morning on the twenty-seventh."

"Arrange for the three days of supplies just in case," Riza cautioned. "But that's good. The sooner we end this, the better." A muffled background voice said something impossible for Rebecca to make out, and Riza's voice faded into equal obscurity as she turned away from the phone to answer. A second later, she was back. "One more thing…. Make sure, when you're gathering up those supplies… include some ice cream."

"…Got it." She grinned. "I'll even make it your favourite brand. But if Falman and I are going to get it all together by tonight, I'd better go and get started."

"All right. Best of luck. Drive safely."

"Right. See you soon."

Hanging up, Rebecca stood another moment in the equipment shed, replaying the call a few times over. After all the stress and strangeness of this case, the end was finally in sight. She pulled the other protective earbud from its place tucked into her ear canal, shaking her head with a smile.

Ice cream.

INHABITED ZONE, JADAD, ISHVAL

1117 HOURS, APRIL 25TH

The sun was close to overhead when she made it back to the living quarters assigned to her and Roy by the Reconstruction Authority. Riza was glad of the traditional Ishvalan headscarf and the breeze allowed to play across his skin by the light fabric of the plain brown dress. The abaya had been nice, but when the sun on her during the walk from the uninhabited zone to the little house had left her overheated and feeling weakened – a lingering effect of the vampirism, even in her human persona – she was glad to have this alternative. The headscarf kept the sun off of her face and neck, the air flow kept her cool and helped bolster her against the fatigue, and the entire ensemble helped her to blend into the crowds.

Not that blending in helped her to lose the escort she still thought of as entirely unnecessary. The young warrior Scar had assigned to follow her on her errand walked behind and to one side, his footsteps making little to no noise in the sand. He hadn't said a word but to help direct her to the communications centre, and had been silent since they had walked through the door.

Not that she minded the quiet, but after a few days locked away inside her own head, human contact was a welcome thing. What she wouldn't give to have Roy alone for half an hour and tell him everything…. She could finally accurately describe how it felt to have the vampire persona seize control, what she remembered, where the gaps in her memory were, tell him that she was sorry things had gotten this out of hand, ask him if he was all right….

Her vampire self had wanted nothing but sex and to toy with him. Childish as it was, all Riza wanted from him at this moment was an assurance things would work out, and a hug.

Later, she told herself firmly. Focus on the planning for now, and let yourself worry when you have the time.

Her near-mute bodyguard stationed himself outside the front door of the house as she paused just long enough to unlock it. There was a tremble in her knees that she didn't like, but she willed it not to show in her step.

Strength began seeping back into her muscles the moment she stepped inside, out of the glare of the sunlight. Riza kept her steadying, deep breath surreptitious, taking a moment just for herself, to regain a more normal feeling in her limbs and appreciate the coolness of the entryway shadows.

Roy stuck his head out of the kitchen, smiling when he saw her. "Welcome back. How did it go?"

"Barring any serious setbacks, we could have our reinforcements as early as first light on the twenty-seventh," she told him, reaching up to unwind the headscarf. She settled it across the back of her neck, flipping one end back over the opposite shoulder. "Breda and Fuery will be leaving Central within the hour, if they haven't already, and Rebecca and Falman are readying everything they'll need."

She shot a quick glance at the open archway to the dining area, and lowered her voice. "I added a request when I gave her a list of supplies they'll need. I told her to bring ice cream."

He gazed at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I see…. Well, if you think it'll be useful, I trust your judgement. Though am I right in thinking it's not something you want to share with our hosts?"

"Only if I have to." She slipped her feet out of her sandals, leaving them by the door. "I'm selfish that way."

"Hang on a second." Taking a risk he wouldn't normally indulge in, he leaned forward, hidden by the dividing wall between the entryway and the kitchen. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, careful for it not to make any noise, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "You and I need to talk, at some point. Alone." He smiled. "I'm selfish too, that way."

She returned the smile, though her eyes darted toward the kitchen entrance. "Later," she promised. "I want to talk to you, too, but not when the walls have ears. Everything that's happened… I need to get it off my chest." Her smile faded. "I've told you and the others everything that's pertinent to the situation, but there's plenty more that only affects me."

Roy nodded, then stepped back. "I'd like to hear it."

They entered the dining space at the same time, Roy pausing only to pick up the tray of steaming cups he had been assembling at the kitchen counter when Riza arrived.

"Success?" Miles asked, watching Riza settle to a comfortable seat on a cushion at the low table.

"Very much so." She folded her arms on the tabletop, pressing her fingers against the wood so that any residual shaking would not show. "Our reinforcements are on their way." Brown eyes skimmed the pile of books and scrolls in the centre of the table. "What about on your end?"

"We're finding plenty of weaknesses that vampires are supposed to have," Roy put in, setting a cup of tea in front of her, "but not much on how to kill them. Not a sire, at least; most of the lore seems to agree that the way to stop the direct… offspring of a sire vampire is to kill the sire, but there's hardly anything useful on how to do that."

Riza frowned at him. "The way you're talking, sir, it sounds as though there's at least one way you've found. 'Not much' and 'hardly anything' aren't the same as 'nothing at all.'"

"What we've found isn't exactly…. It has a distasteful side to it," Miles said, looking and sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

"Two different books suggested stabbing the vampire through the heart with a wooden stake," Scar said, almost tonelessly. "And then cutting its head off."

Riza fought down the urge to grimace. "Ah. I can see how that doesn't appeal to anyone… but from my own observations, and for what it's worth… I think it would work." She took a sip of tea, feeling the welcome warmth – much nicer than the heat from the sun – all the way down her throat. "I can't explain how I know, I just… know."

Miles was watching her, paying attention but also scrutinizing. "If you don't mind my asking, Lieutenant… this willingness to accept a violent death by stabbing and decapitation. Is it linked to any residual… anger issues?"

"No." Setting her cup back on the table, cradling it in both hands, she turned to look him directly in the eye. "Though if you don't mind my saying so, Major, Kimblee's victims suffered much more violent and unnecessary deaths than stabbing and decapitation." Her expression, set to hard determination, softened somewhat. "But, you are right. If there is an easier way to remove him from the picture, one that will be less scarring for all those involved, I think we should try."

"Incarceration won't be enough this time," Roy murmured, settling into his seat. "He was released by the Homonculi last time; who's to say he won't manage to turn someone to help him escape a second time? Or force his own way out?"

"He is a creation of forbidden alchemy," Scar added. "Not of the kind practiced by normal alchemists, which I accept has its uses. In folklore, the alchemy Kimblee used is more like dark magic."

"He manipulated the unnatural to make himself supernatural," Miles said quietly. Silence fell over the table.

After long moments, Riza finally spoke up, one hand toying with the charm around her neck. "If the protection charm keeps my vampire persona suppressed… but Kimblee no longer has his original persona… what effect might it have on him?"

"Unconsciousness, perhaps," Scar said, his forehead furrowed in a deep frown of thought. "Intense weakness or sudden illness are possible as well. I don't think it would kill him outright."

"It wouldn't have to," Roy said, watching Riza with understanding slowly spreading across his face as he caught on to her idea. "If it can incapacitate him, even for a second, it would give us time to strike. If we play our cards right, we could take out a serial-killing vampire with a pouch of sand, flowers, and silver wire."

Miles was smiling. "Might be harder to corner him like we did the Lieutenant. We might need those reinforcements."

"He's always hungry. We could just shove it down his throat the first time he opens his big mouth." Silence slammed into the room once again, all three men turning to stare at Riza. Immediately, she flushed red, smiling unsteadily. "Sorry… that might have been the anger issues."

"It could be a valid option, if doing so will affect him strongly enough." With that said, Scar got to his feet, taking a last sip from his cup. "For now, I will leave the research to Miles, and go look into accommodations for the rest of your staff, Colonel. After that, I need to rest; last night was long."

Miles was gathering up the scrolls and books. "I'm going to return these to the library, and see if I can't find some more research material. It could be there are other lore sources there that we overlooked that might be more useful." He looked up. "I'll also talk to the Master; with his knowledge of our people's traditions and history, there's a chance he might know something as well."

Roy nodded. "We'll go over the information we already have, see if we can't parse anything else useful out of it." Getting to his feet, he shook hands with both men. "Good luck. Let us know if you find or need anything."

Minutes later, alone at last, Riza was outlining every vampire- related experience in detail.