Roy opened the door of the car at the back of Central Command, Feury waiting with an umbrella to escort him inside the back way. "Sir," the Sergeant said in greeting.

Roy ducked under the umbrella, Feury shutting the door behind him as they made their way down the slushy sidewalk, wet sleet pelting the thin shelter over their heads. Thunder clapped overhead, and Roy couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of urgency. He needed to get this over with quickly. If Ed woke up in this . . . well, Roy didn't want to consider it.

Breda had given him a rundown of what had been going on since yesterday. Needless to say, Archer had been none too happy when he'd knocked on Roy's door bright and early that morning and found both Roy and Ed gone. He'd since taken up residence in the empty desk beside Hawkeye and was conducting his investigation from there, much to his staff's irritation. As predicted, he had obtained a warrant and searched the dorms, Havoc and Breda's, and Hawkeye's residences, respectively, and when he'd come up empty there, put out a BOLO for Ed, and was apparently in the process of putting out a warrant for Roy's arrest.

In other words, Roy had gotten them all into a fine mess.

"What's our status?" he asked.

"Vasovik is in holding cell four," Feury supplied, opening the back door for Roy. "Havoc has Archer and his men chasing their own tails with some false evidence he planted at his own house. They'll be looking for you on the other side of town for this evening, but some of his guys are still here. Breda's going to help Havoc now. As far as we can tell, they don't know anything about Vasovik, and Hawkeye and Falman are still in the office trying to keep it that way."

"What about you, Breda and Havoc?"

Feury grimaced. "Havoc, Breda and I apparently have a bad case of food poisoning from eating out of the same box of donuts and are locked in the bathroom until we're able to drive home."

Roy frowned. "Can you even get food poisoning from donuts?"

"Breda said that he's an expert in the subject of donuts and that it is very possible."

Well, if anyone knew, it was Breda.

"Sir," Feury began hesitantly. "You do understand that we're holding a foreign citizen, right?"

Roy suppressed a growl. "Your point?"

Feury shifted nervously just behind him, struggling to keep pace with Roy's longer strides and phrase his next 'point.' "We're breaking several regulations with this. We could get into a lot of trouble. Especially without at least a General signing off on it–"

"Don't worry, Feury, it's handled," he informed shortly. "General Armstrong has approved a prisoner transfer. We're hardly to blame if the higher-ups around here haven't gotten through their paperwork yet. I trust you've appropriately misfiled it?"

Feury looked ever more uncomfortable. "Yes, sir, but—"

"Stop worrying. Any heat that comes from it will be on me."

Feury looked away and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "that's what I'm worried about."

The interrogation rooms were at basement level in the command building. Roy took the steps two at a time, pulling on his gloves as he shouldered through the door out of the stairwell into the first security checkpoint. The guard was strangely absent, the radio on the counter buzzing something about a break-in in the east wing. Roy ignored it, though. That wasn't why he was here, and it made reaching his quarry all the easier. He wanted to get in and out with as few witnesses as possible.

Roy's gut clenched in anticipation, like preparing for a jump into a deep abyss. They were finally going to get answers. Roy was finally going to get his hands on one of those responsible.

And Vasovik would pay.

Feury took a ring of keys out of his pocket and handed them to Roy, his expression tight. Roy only spared him a glance, inserting the key into the lock and turning it.

The short hallway before him was dark, but that wasn't what sent the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Blood.

It was splattered on the wall nearest him, drops on the floor, pooling under the door to his right.

He immediately shoved the shock and confusion aside while his military training took over with cold efficiency. "Feury!" he hissed, one hand posed to snap as he grabbed the handle of a door he knew would be unlocked.

He heard the smaller man run in behind him, panicked steps slapping on cold cement. Apparently the blood answered any questions he may have had. Roy waited until he heard the sharp click of Feury's gun before standing to the side, one hand on the knob. He made eye contact with Feury, received a shaky nod of confirmation, then threw open the door.

Feury entered first, sweeping the room with a gun clenched in trembling hands, face blanched white as his eyes locked on the form slumped on the floor.

Roy stepped in behind him, hand held high as his gaze traveled around the tiny room, past the metal table and sturdy chairs bolted to the ground, making note of the blood smeared across the floor, leading to the only body in an otherwise vacant room. What was left of the man was clothed in scraps of an MP's uniform, neck twisted unnaturally, horribly to one side as empty eyes stared wildly at nothing, blood-smeared mouth agape in a soundless cry.

Roy spat a curse, turning, flying out the door and rounding to the next one. Interrogation room number four was unlocked, the knob hot under his fingers. Roy shoved it open.

Smoke billowed out, black and thick, the smell of cooking meat making Roy's stomach clench and flashes of Ishval and bloody sand fly past his mind's eye. A fire roared in the corner, and Roy clenched his teeth in an enraged snarl.

Vasovik was nothing but a charring corpse.

Roy chocked on the smoke, eyes watering and despair suffocating him more than smoke ever could. "No . . . no," he hissed, voice wild, desperation writhing like a living thing in his gut. He couldn't be gone. "This isn't right . . . this isn't right . . ."

"Well, well," a smooth voice purred behind him, freezing Roy's heart in his chest. He turned sharply.

Archer greeted him with a snake's smile, flanked on either side by two men, but Roy paid them no mind. His eyes were locked on Archer, the man's frozen blue eyes boring into him, that awful smile widening. "First, Edward Elric goes missing under your care, and now, a mysterious prisoner, burning in our interrogation room and one Flame Alchemist at the scene? I think I have a few questions for you, Colonel."

XxXxX

Ed had absolutely no idea where he was.

He had run away from wherever he had been with no direction and no plan. He had let the blind fear take over, and now he could have been in Xing for all he knew. He'd stopped against a stone wall to catch his breath and calm his mind, and as he breathed, his thoughts became clearer and less cluttered by panic.

He was soaked through, the blanket over his shoulders long since saturated, and now served only to make him wetter as moisture seeped underneath it and straight to his bones. He'd lost feeling in his only flesh foot a long time ago, despite the sock that he didn't recall ever putting on. His flesh palm and knee were scraped and felt hot with blood from his countless falls landing him on something more solid than snow or slush. Thunder rumbled overhead, still making him flinch no matter how many times he told himself it was harmless, and even as he leaned against the wall and gasped for breath, the wet sleet showered him and made him shiver helplessly. If he didn't get out of the cold soon, he was going to start feeling the effects of hypothermia.

What to do, though? He had no idea where he was. The next step he took could be into an open manhole. And whoever was back at that place could have been following him. He couldn't just sit out in the open and freeze to death.

He tried to slow his panting, just enough to focus and take in his environment.

The space felt small, sounds resonating almost to the point of echoing around him. He put his prosthetic fingers on the wall against him, then stretched outward, reaching across black and empty space. His flesh fingers finally brushed up against something cold and solid, but he was too numb to make out anything more than that with just his hands. Probably another wall, though. Maybe he was in some sort of alley?

Ed shivered but moved as swiftly as his frozen body would allow. Where there was an alley, there would be trash, and with any luck, Ed would be able to find something to double as a walking stick. Ed had protested vehemently to using one before, but being completely alone and helpless tended to make one reevaluate what was deemed humiliating. Staggering and stumbling around like an idiot was humiliating.

After some rummaging—and sticking his hand into some things that he decided he'd rather not know about—Ed found something that might do. Once he'd pulled it out and ran a hand up and down its length, Ed realized that he'd found some sort of club, or maybe just the leg of a table or chair. He briefly entertained the idea of using alchemy and better crafting it to his needs, but quickly decided against it. Without eyes to see to judge the exact amount and components of the wood, he risked a rebound, and that was about the last thing he needed right now.

He held the thicker end in his flesh hand and extended it out in front of him. Like this, the stick just barely touched the ground, but that was all he needed. He swung the stick experimentally in a small arc. It struck the wall with a faint crack, but nothing else. He'd have a much easier time navigating now.

Now he just had to figure out where he was going.

He couldn't go back to Mustang. Just the thought of it hurt deep, like swallowing hot stones. No, Mustang had made it painfully clear what he thought of Ed's company.

Tears burned hot in his eyes, but he blinked them back before they could fall and freeze on his face. Those were not thoughts he could afford to entertain right then. First he had to find shelter, then he could fall apart.

The thought that he'd been through much worse was strangely comforting as he walked. He wasn't sure about the passage of time, but he knew that he was still in the city by the stone and brick buildings he occasionally encountered. If the steadily dropping temperatures were any sort of gauge, it was probably past sunset. But if he was still in the city, why hadn't he heard any people or traffic? Was everyone inside, riding out the storm? Or maybe he was in the warehouse district or something similar after hours. He had no real way of knowing, so he kept walking.

It was surprisingly frustrating trying to find a door that was open. Every one he tried was locked, or maybe wasn't even a door to begin with. The cold was unbearable now, and exhaustion was making him consider putting his back to a wall and sleeping in the snow. It was an irrational thought, one that Ed recognized as a symptom of hypothermia, and the need to stay alive was the only thing keeping him moving now. His foot was so cold it burned, and the skin where flesh met metal wasn't much better off. In a couple of hours, moving wouldn't be an option.

Thunder snapped, and Ed's heart skipped a beat for the millionth time that night. Between that and the other noises of the snowed-in city—the unnamed thumps and squeaks, the distant barking of dogs, the rustling of bushes and the wind in the trees—keeping calm was relatively difficult. Moving helped, though. It was hard for his mind to recall the basement when it was so focused on staying alive in the present moment.

When he finally found shelter though, he wondered if he'd be so lucky.

With a shake of his head, Ed forced the thought from his mind and trudged forward. He'd be lucky if he found shelter in the first place.

The going was slow. He lost count of the buildings he'd tried to get into early on, and Ed wasn't sure if it was an hour or five that had passed as he staggered up against yet another building. This time though, there was a sense of finality to the action. One way or another, he knew this would be the last one.

He could barely move his automail at all, each step sending a slice of agony up his otherwise numb leg. He couldn't stop shivering, even if he tried, teeth chattering hard enough to be uncomfortable. Just the very act of breathing made his body ache, and his face was so cold he wondered if it was frozen in a pained grimace.

Yeah, this was the last one.

He reached ahead with his 'walking stick' again, running his free hand along the wall until it indented sharply. It took him a while to find the handle, fingers too numb and hands shaking too hard to manage it with any ease. He found it put all of his strength into twisting it.

Locked.

With a frustrated moan, Ed sank to his knees in the snow. He was so tired.

Sleet pummeled his back, making soft whispers around him as it hit the snow and slush. His surroundings were hushed, as only snow can make them. He closed his eyes, breathing, the cold seeping into him, and he absently wondered why he was doing all of this.

Sleep wasn't a bad idea, was it?

No, not bad at all. And if he curled up just so . . . yes, it was almost warm, there against the building.

He could rest a few minutes, then be on his way.

Don't.

Yes. Rest.

You sleep, you die.

He could look . . .

Elric, wake up!

. . . later.

Don't hate me xD

Well, this is probably my fastest update since the beginning of this fic. Two reasons: I actually have free time, and it's a short chapter lol. Sorry it's so short, though. It was just a really good place to end. You know, both of them being in such a tight spot and all ;D

I said don't hate me.

I like some parts of this chapter, but there were a couple of parts I'm not entirely satisfied with. But this chapters been written for four or five days and I feel like I'm to the point where I'm not doing it any favors playing with it so much.

Anyone get anything good for Christmas? I got chocolate. Really helps the writing ;D

Happy New Year to all! Get a good start on those resolutions, neh? I want to actually finish my novel this year. This fic is my biggest distraction, so maybe I need to finish it this year, too lol xD

Hope you enjoyed! If you have the time, drop a review, and I'll see you next time!

God Bless,

-RainFlame