Bury It Forward

by KawasakiTriple

Mustang is forced to decide on the best way to cope with Edward's broken, tortured mind; his first task is to decipher why Ed will stop at nothing to escape his custody when the weather turns foul.

36. Chapter 36

Mustang draped the damp towel around his neck after using it to wipe the steam off of the mirror, twisting sideways to get a better look at the deep, open welts, slashed in angry red across his hipbone.

Damn. He'd certainly underestimated his partner last night. Well, not really. Not completely. When she came after him so aggressively, grinding and groping while plying him with drinks, he instinctively deflected her advances until she proposed going back to her place instead of his. From the claw marks covering his back to the furrows of broken skin on his hip and shoulder, he knew this was someone he would not hook up with again. He did sort of see it coming; if it wasn't for those rare violet eyes and impressive breasts, he'd have passed altogether; well, even those remarkably attractive attributes weren't worth being subjected to her frenzied assault. Thank heavens he'd been able to fend her off long enough to put on a condom; their tryst revealed far too many unsavory details that spoke volumes about the kind of activities she was capable of and what sort of people she did them with, despite her standing in high society. He knew well enough how to satisfy someone who liked it rough, and she was extremely pleased with his performance - but he had no real enthusiasm for it personally.

He rummaged in the medicine cabinet for a while before remembering that the first aid ointment was in the drawer of his bedside table.

Padding naked out and into the darkened bedroom, he rubbed his wet hair with the towel and reflected for the millionth time how nice it was to have full control over his bed and body, at least as far as sex and personal privacy was concerned.

Growing up as the ward of a woman running a "social club," he considered his personal space precious property, indeed. Madam Christmas was well versed in brokering the sort of intimacy that came at the price of cold, hard cash. Her foster mothering was more of a matter of benign management, living in the midst of a bustling, successful hospitality house. For a little boy with no one else to call family, his upbringing was anything but typical.

She wasn't the bedtime story sort of guardian; there were no sweet moments of parental tenderness. She alluded to being his "paternal aunt" after his "tragic loss" and explained no further in the conversations he managed to overhear; but she never once told Roy directly anything about how he came to be in her care.

As time went by he heard the stories of the many other young, mostly female dependents who passed through her foster care, and as he grew old enough to understand, he realized that he, too, might have come to be here from some darker beginning in life. It was a stretch to believe that she truly was his paternal aunt, a woman whose appearance spoke of a different nationality and bearing no resemblance to him whatsoever.

He could have asked her. He still could. But the chance of getting the wrong answer outweighed the benefit of knowing for sure, if, indeed, Madam Christmas even knew his real circumstance. His heritage and genetic history might be important someday, if he were to marry and contemplate having kids. But his life developed with other goals in mind, and it just happened to preclude traditional family ties and fatherhood. That was just a convenient coincidence. It wasn't, he assured himself, that confirmed bachelorhood was a prerequisite for the path he chose in life. Of course not; such things were unimportant.

Living in shared quarters in that environment since the age of four, the ability to sense and predict human behavior was a basic survival skill. Never being able to let down his guard and relax, even in sleep, lead to the over-developed awareness of people's movement and motives that served him well to this day.

He shook his head and sat on the edge of his exquisite king-sized bed, looking at the cap of the ointment blindly and wondering why he was steeping in so many old memories this morning.

There was a lot to remember but he rarely reflected on it. When he did, there was always some incident that triggered it. Mulling it over was bittersweet; it didn't give him a feeling of warmth so much as a sense of accomplishment. Childhood was merely a boot camp for life, chiseling his character with strength and independence. Even the Madam was proud of the capable man he'd turned out to be.

Maybe this flush of nostalgia was roused by his gratitude for the ability to see past the lovely violet of a lady's eyes and recognize the potential trouble that hid beneath. The emotional intelligence his less-than-perfect upbringing supplied him with was invaluable. People's eyes truly were the window to their souls, and one had but to look into them to see past the friendly smile and outstretched hand for the warnings, clearly visible if you knew the signs.

For all the near misses in his youth, he'd never been taken forcibly or beaten badly, and in the constant commotion and confusion of the crowded club, that was almost unheard of. He was a boy, granted, and most of the employees were women, primarily with male customers…but still…there was a lot of unwanted interest constantly being thrown his way. With his exotic good looks, the aggressiveness of the advances grew in proportion to his age.

It wasn't that he was bad at the host business; he learned it like everyone else, working the floor to provide hospitality for the clients as they waited for services. But from the beginning, he felt like a struggling transplant in the club environment. Madam Christmas sent him for self-defense lessons to build his confidence and help him stay in control of the situations that were giving him so much trouble. She likely thought that if he had confidence in his ability to protect himself, he would be more comfortable in allowing himself to be placed in the sort of tantalizingly compromising positions that made her club the busiest in the region.

Instead, the lessons at the dojo changed the course of his entire life. He learned about methods of self-control, self-defense and survival strategy. But more importantly than that, he heard stories about defending the weak and upholding the honor of the people. He met men who seemed to be able to have relationships with others without relating everything to money, alcohol or sex. And in eavesdropping on side conversations he discovered that some were practitioners of real alchemy. It was something amazing and important that only individuals with highly developed talent could do. And once mastered, those people had a place in the world that was special.

If he had to pinpoint what it was that first drew him to alchemy, it was that uniqueness. It was the fact that Alchemist stood, maybe not taller than others, not more important…but apart. They were lone wolves. Elite individuals. Even within organizations like the military, they often operated as private contractors. The men of the dojo were the first men he felt he could truly look up to; the first adults that inspired him to follow in their footsteps. They were in command of their fate, victims to no one. And the Alchemists among them were his greatest role models.

So when the time came, despite being fully trained and capable of stepping into the lucrative full-time host position, he refused the 'promotion'. Sure, he had discovered that he was extremely talented and impressively endowed, stacking up favorably against any guy in the place despite his youth. Servicing was easy and paid handsomely, and he was hounded by his co-workers to remember that he was lucky to have the opportunity. Word was already out on the street and new faces were drifting in, inquiring when he was going to be available for full service. But he had other plans in mind.

He remembered well that conversation. Her annoyance. His adamant refusal, heated with the first blush of self-righteous rebellion. He finally felt like he'd made himself clear. Now that he'd seen a little of the world beyond, he was itching to clear a path to reach it.

Roy was already an artist at human manipulation without fully realizing it. While she had been pushing him to work with clients in the front, he'd been busy taking over critical duties in the back, achieving proficiency in handling the accounting and paperwork. He proposed taking extra instruction in advanced professional studies, under the guise of learning management skills to support the business. She allowed him to extend his time at the dojo, and eventually, agreed to let him take a part-time job outside of her establishment when he pitched it as valuable in broadening his experience.

He won. His diligent work took him off the 'floor'. He had found his own, solitary path, and it finally lit the fire in his soul.

Working and studying hard in lieu of sleeping, he excelled in self-defense and came to embody its austere philosophy; learned the theories of alchemy and competitive strategy; and mastered his courses in personnel and resource management. Knowledge and conviction filled in the uncomfortable void left by the lack of traditional ethics in his upbringing. Thus primed, his path led him to abruptly announce the end of his dependency at age seventeen in order to become the dedicated protégé of a brilliant, if troubled, alchemist. A greedy sponge for knowledge of the craft, landing the position of assistant under Master Hawkeye's tutelage was like a dream too good to be true.

His determination to escape from life at the club never wavered. When that strange and fascinating job with Master Hawkeye ended he enlisted in the military immediately rather than return.

Full of naïve notions of defending the nation against evil, he quickly acclimated to the idea of being a soldier and protector. But the progression of the average foot soldier was slow and crowded; as a lifestyle it was as chaotic as the club had been and then some.

To find his solitude again, he had to rise above. And his opportunity to do so came with the terrible loss of the elder Hawkeye, his first legitimate mentor bleeding out from disease in his very arms during one of his visits to check on his welfare. The key to his infamous legacy came at the cost of a life, and he felt honored to receive such a precious bequest from his master's grieving daughter.

He struggled with his naïve ethics and lost some of his inhibitions, discovering that the skills he attained through hours of assisting in the club made him a virtual sexual ninja in the wild. He read through layers of personality traits without even trying and knew exactly how to push people's buttons to get whatever he wanted; he saw the strings to pull as clearly as the laces of his shiny new government-issue boots.

It got him into trouble a few times before he figured out that he shouldn't casually indulge in compromising activities without restraint, particularly among other members of the military. It was the opposite of the environment he grew up in. Not only was it messy and troublesome to have multiple partners within the ranks, but he discovered that for many people, the assumption that it was all purely physical was the exception and not the rule. Nevertheless, when it came to relationships purely physical was still his rule, and he saw no reason to change it. Instead, he made sure to be discriminate and only indulge with those who accept his terms.

He hadn't intended to build a reputation for himself, but by the time he passed his Alchemist test, he was already pegged as a ruthless player. He wasn't sure how 'normal' people would view his promiscuity. His first real friend from boot camp was completely the opposite. A self-declared one-woman man, Hughes always had a wry amusement at what appeared to be his casual horn-dog ways. By and large his peers regarded him highly for it. They joked about it in admiration, exaggerating in describing his libido as almost out of control.

He gladly took the labels of male whore, lady's man, even womanizer, as his foster mother's legacy. He liked being leagues better at the game than the others. He liked attractive bodies and the wide, if predictable, variety of activities they indulged in with him if he deigned to play with them. He wasn't so fond of being pressured for favors by those he didn't want to sleep with, but he handled it like a professional when things got sticky with higher ranking personnel. Harassment wasn't in his vocabulary and that was a big mark in his favor when promotions came around.

Any ambivalence he had about reputation was done away with when he met General Grummond. A legendary dirty old man, he gave the most useful insights of any of the brass he'd met. With a wink he told Roy what a fine impression he had made among the officers already; and how a leader of men had a much easier time maintaining their respect by advertised his incredible prowess. And that, in the rare case such as Roy's where it was the truth - it was just that much better.

Which brought him back to the present. This gal had a big mouth and she made no secret of the long list of officers and high-ranking officials she'd turned into one-night conquests. Considering the range of expert services he provided, he was certain that she'd be bragging to the regulars about it without censoring any intimate details; so one night with her was as effective as a gross of casual, more discreet trysts. It hadn't been too bad. It was like the old days, fulfilling her needs while his feelings really didn't matter much. It was part of business as usual, keeping up the reputation in pursuit of his Fuehrer's wings. Just good old Roy, behaving in character, another sign to anyone that might be watching that everything was perfectly normal.

He winced when the ointment hit his skin, more from the cold than the sting. He knew that 'normal' people didn't have his attitudes. People had casual, wanton sex to make their body parts feel good; or they had sex in monogamous, committed relationships because…because they didn't want the other person to do it with someone else, he supposed. Well, he wasn't sure. By his own rule he either had a personal connection with someone or he didn't, and he didn't have physical relations with those he had a personal connection with. Like those fellow foster kids, or the Madam, or the people at the dojo. Or his first close friend, Hughes, back in the day, and now Riza, his subordinates, and so on. They were all completely off-limits. He never slipped; not once had he ever had to remind himself of his hands-off policy.

He was surrounded by the most loyal companions a man could ask for and separate from that he had a willing pool of sex partners of every type in a dozen bars and pubs at least. His rank was high and destined to go higher. He had people to protect and care for, and a defensible home space with a bed that no stranger would ever surprise him in again and live. From his embarrassingly helpless and strange beginnings, he'd managed to grow up pretty well.

It was just this strange ache of loneliness he could never figure out, like some part of his life was missing. It just didn't make sense to him, so he chose to push it aside and concentrate on the tactics that advanced his career and protected his subordinates to the exclusion of anything else. If it was military business on the base or in the field, subject to his command, then it defined the meaning of his life to date. And out here among the civilians, off-duty, it was just a self-indulgent time-out; a place to rest and regroup long enough to gain energy and focus for the job. He had all the important bases covered.

That was why this…he gingerly pulled the clean cotton of his underwear over the wound, taking it out of sight and out of mind…this wasn't worth a second thought. He'd merely have to wait a while before going back to that particular ale house, and beyond that, there was nothing about last night he cared to remember.

It was an excellent reminder, though, of another rendezvous he had to attend. With Havoc's date as an excuse, he'd get his own reconnaissance underway without Hawkeye being any the wiser. Doc stepped up his demand that the men start getting away from Ed and Al more often, and the timing in pushing Havoc into this outing all kind of lined up just right with his plan.

Pulling on his undershirt, Mustang's musings of the past faded in favor of scheming, focusing his thoughts on taking a little excursion away from the hawk's watchful eye.

xxxxx

Ed struggled to stay focused. His neck was hot, and his head was filled with incredible pressure. He hadn't expected to get so upset at having to do this, not after all of his mental preparation and rehearsal. After all, it was for Al's own good. It was best for everyone's sake. He was saving his brother, saving him, not hurting him needlessly.

This started as a civil conversation, developed into a debate, escalated into an argument. Still, Al wasn't swayed. He seemed almost angry, but not at Ed directly, as if he felt this was someone else's fault. It made him even harder to convince.

More ranting than reasoning, Ed's words were beginning to spit out at a fever pitch. No logic, no cajoling, no plea had made the slightest dent in Al's adamant refusal to listen to reason. He was going to have to pull rank and order Alphonse to leave. Insult him. Chase him off. Beat it into him. Whatever it took, he had to make him go, and it had to be now.

"I thought we had this sorted out! Why are you saying all of this?" Al shot back, just slightly unsure and tinged with guilt. Maybe he had been too candid in his therapy sessions, but they were supposed to be private. Damned that man, if Gansworth had leaked even a tiny hint of the fact that he sometimes had thoughts about leaving at some point to get things ready for them, and that leak had caused all of this, he would never trust him again. Still, the doctor swore he wouldn't tell any of his secrets, and found it hard to believe he would betray his oath.

"You don't belong here! You need to go home. "

"We don't have a home, remember?" Al asked, a little more softly. Maybe this was just poor Ed being confused again. More delusion. Misguided thinking. Deep-seated emotional problems coming to the surface, just as the doctor predicted. "We're each other's home and we have been for a long time."

"That's not true. Not anymore."

"You don't need to worry, Ed. You gotta calm down, okay? Take it easy, it's all right. I'm not leaving you..."

"Get your stupid ass back to Risembool and take care of things! You're just screwing things up here and you don't even know if ...look, you need make sure Winry's taking care of old lady Pinako and you need to take control of the situation! They probably need you right now!"

"Ed, I'm sure everything's okay. Think about it, they've been doing just fine for years since we left. And I know they'd send word if there was a problem. Just tell me - what is it you're so worried about?"

"Shut up and listen! I don't know the details about shit like that, how would I? I just know! So do what I tell you! Just go there, damn it!"

"Calm down, Edward," the Major said, cautiously inserting himself between the boys. Although Al was blushing and clearly flustered, he was still keeping an even keel. But Ed's self-control was rapidly deteriorating; red-faced and shaking, his words and movements were growing more and more erratic. The pauses in between his sentences were peppered with muttered, possibly involuntary insults and unintelligible nonsense. Whether or not Ed was expressing something he truly meant at the moment, the time to stop this was now, before he lost control completely or something was said that might cause Al's temper to kick in.

Ed moved right along with the huge body, making sure he wasn't blocked out.

"Don't. You're getting in the way!"

"Yes, well, I think that this argument has gone on long enough."

"I'm not arguing, I'm telling! I don't care what he thinks! He has to get the fuck out of here! Send him home!"

"He wants to be here for you. He only wants to help." Armstrong hesitated, weighing whether it was smart to move again. Trying to come between them had the unintended effect of making Ed more animated.

"Well he isn't! He's not any fucking help, he never has been and he never will be and I don't want him here! I don't need him. He's just making things worse!" Ed's neck was burning hot now; it was all he could do to resist falling into complete hysterics. Once he got started it felt like a 'do or die' situation. It felt like the world would explode if he didn't follow through and make Al agree to leave, right here and now. What started out as worry over his strategy had morphed into incredible pressure and fear, as if he had opened some deadly portal that could only be shut if Al caved to his will.

Al was wide-eyed, reeling with mixed emotions in the face of such an acidic attack. He stood up to the barrage in confusion - hurt, frustrated, and despairing of ever understanding Ed in a way he could relate to. He just couldn't seem to find a way to get a handle on Ed's problems, and his inability was making things worse. Being more of a hindrance than a help was one of his most heartbreaking fears, and hearing it directly from Ed was a brutal blow, complicating his struggle to figure out the right thing to say or do next.

"Ed, I'm sorry, try to take it easy. You know I want to help you. You just have talk to me so I can get better at it, explain what..."

Al's plea was cut short; even the Major's swift reaction didn't thwart Ed's sudden lunge completely. A partially deflected automail hand still glanced hard off the younger Elric's startled face, a sucker punch that knocked his head back without any warning, making him cry out from the pain.

"Get...the fuck...let me go! I'll beat some sense into him!"

Armstrong followed through, using the leverage of holding both arms to turn Ed away in case he thought to stark kicking, forcing him to scream over his shoulder if he wanted to continue threatening Al.

"Edward, stop it! Enough! Alphonse, I insist that you to move away from him completely until I can get him under control." Ed's ability to put up a significant fight was growing all the time now. It made everything more unpredictable when they had to resort to applying restraint, although it didn't happen as often as before.

This thing with Ed…suddenly turning on Al and rejecting him so vehemently, though…this was new, and needed to be reported to the doctor as soon as the situation was in hand again. It had to be addressed quickly. Keeping the two of them in the same room was the best method of keeping them guarded and cared for and out of the eye of the top brass. They couldn't be allowed to develop 'irreconcilable differences' if it was at all preventable.

"Here, Al. Come on. Let's give him some time to snap out of it," Havoc said, guiding Al back, regretting his choice of position. He had been poised behind Al to get control of him, not to defend him, and the tactical error was inexcusable. The younger Elric didn't resist; he wasn't saying anything, his jaw and eyes clamped shut as he waited for the shock of pain to subside.

Still engaged in containing his struggling charge, Armstrong shifted his position further to try and block the line of sight between the boys. Ed's resistance showed no sign of waning, so he settled for keeping him from going anywhere, knowing he would either run out of steam or go completely out of control soon enough.

"Let me go! I know what I'm doing, he's my little brother! Don't treat me like I...I…"

Ed gasped in mid-sentence and froze, abruptly silent but for his ragged breath. A familiar shadow of terror touched his consciousness, the element of surprise shocking him nearly as much as the possibility that it was real. Somehow he'd forgotten to be on alert for the enemy, but he was always on the alert for it, even in his sleep, the lapse was inexcusable. Awareness of the predator passed through him for just a second, freezing his soul, even though he couldn't be sure if he really felt it or not. In the midst of his big badass act, his insanely panicked go-for-broke attempt to get Al sent safely away, he suddenly envisioned the show-stopping presence of the enemy. It was just a hint, at a barely detectable range-there were no windows, no open door, but while that meant he couldn't be sure if he really felt it, it also meant the very real possibility that the thing was right outside. Its hand could be on the door handle already. He made the immediate, gut-wrenching connection with the fact that Havoc was about to take his brother out that very door.

"No, no, wait! Al! Stop!" Ed cried out, startling Armstrong with the sudden change from anger to fear.

What had he done, how could he have been so blind? It wasn't at all safe for Al to leave. In a heartbeat, his perception of everything changed, and his panic took a new direction. All bets were off. This was an emergency!

He managed to drag in a ragged breath and clear his vision, only to see that Al had already been led, head down and reluctant, very close to the door. Ed fought to get free of Armstrong's grasp with a frenzied rush of adrenaline. So he'd finally convinced him to leave, only to realize that he might be sending him straight into the twisted claws of unimaginable pain and suffering.

"No! Al! Wait! Stop him!"

Al started to turn. His face was reddened from upset and his hand was pressed to the painful site of the blow; his eyes were just as red, and starting to water.

Havoc tried to keep moving but Al balked.

"I think…he's scared," Al whispered, more to himself than anyone.

"It's okay, Al. Let's just go on out and let the Major help him get calmed down," Havoc said, leaning against Al with gentle pressure, to encourage him forward.

"Don't! Don't! Don't go out there! Al, no!"

"Ed, it's okay, I'm going because it's what you want. I'm just trying to do what's best for you," Al shook his head and stood his ground, not sure what to do.

"Then stop! Don't do it, Havoc. Please, don't take him. Give him here, give him back to me! Let go of me, dammit! C'mere Al, get back here, don't go!"

"Stop it now, Edward. Stop struggling. I don't want you to injure yourself."

"Now! Now! Now!" Ed was reaching a new level of frantic realization; it hadn't really sunk in before. In order to go home to the safety of their old, anonymous region, Al would have to pass through the treacherous zone surrounding the base on the way. That had been true all along and yet he'd missed such a deadly important detail.

There was no way to suddenly develop a plan to address that.

"He really wants me to stay now. Let me go to him!" Al cried. Relieved that Ed had done such a quick about-face, he wanted to jump on the chance to make sure it stuck. They should reward Ed instantly for doing the right thing, and asking for him to stay was the right thing. It was the most positive verbalization Al had heard from him in days.

"He's already hurt you once…"

"Damn it, Al! I didn't mean what I said. Please! Major, let go, Havoc, you can't take him, damn it, let me go, let me go!" He lunged away from the Major's grip, too agitated to think of a better tactic. It was bad, really bad, that he got this far in his planning without seeing such a huge, obvious flaw. He nearly sent Al out into the clutches of the enemy. If he'd walked out that door, his fate was unimaginable. How could he have been so stupid, so careless?

"Ed, I won't go, all right? Come on guys, I promise I'll stay out of reach until he calms down. Just let me get closer, I think it will help now!"

Armstrong kept Ed in hand as Al approached slowly with Havoc as his shadow. Ed stopped struggling and froze in place, but he was shaking as if the suspense of waiting for Al to come closer was more than he could bear; veins were standing out all over his visible flesh.

"Yes, yes, yes, come back come back come back," Ed rasped, still raggedly at wit's end and under tremendous emotional pressure. Since he wasn't trying to get away now, Armstrong tried giving him a little freedom to move and had to instantly reverse his decision.

"None of that, Edward," the Major said. Ed was clearly agitated and battling for self-control; in his frustration, he used his arms' momentary freedom to resort to his unfortunate tendency to let off steam by slamming his fists into his own body. Armstrong did not hesitate to intervene.

Ed yanked hard but the massive hands that encircled his forearms had rendered him harmless again.

"I'm here, Ed, take it easy on yourself. Everything's okay. You don't have to worry," Al said. His brother's expression was making it very difficult to honor the promise to stand by out of reach. Ed looked wildly desperate to get him closer, and Al really didn't care that he'd just been attacked and ordered get the hell out a few minutes ago. That look deserved whatever effort he could make to try and assure his brother that he was not going to abandon him.

"Lock the door, at least!" Ed begged.

"It's closed, we never opened it. It's still secure. I told you, everything is all right. I'm staying right here, with you. Wild horses couldn't drag me away," Al soothed, quick to jump in before the other men could reply and steal Ed's attention.

"Alphonse, "the Major warned. "Not too close."

Al moved behind Ed and slightly to the left, reaching out and putting his hand on his shoulder. He felt Ed's entire body spasm in reaction, but it wasn't to shake him off, and it seemed okay to leave it there.

"I've got you Ed, I'm right here now."

"You can't go," Ed struggled over his shoulder, trying to see to confirm that it was Al's hand, fighting to clear his head and make the panic subside. "I didn't mean it!"

"I know. I know you didn't mean it. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."

Ed yanked his flesh hand free and Armstrong tensed for action; but his hand merely went to cover Al's and capture it, keeping it firmly pressed to his body so he couldn't get away."

"Alphonse?" the Major asked.

"It's fine. He's not hurting me."

"Let me go!" Ed was more verbal, less physical, and the Major eased up on his hold just a little.

"I will, Edward, but we'll take it slowly. Let's make sure you have your bearings first so no one gets hurt this time."

Ed managed to hold his tongue and cringed, nodding with his eyes tightly closed. Al was back, he had him, he had his hand captured as tangible evidence. The Major wouldn't hold him forever. He just had to get control and stop panicking…and yelling…and fighting. It was okay now. It was. There was enough air, and the door was locked, and he was between Al and the door and anything that might try to enter. Havoc and Armstrong were between Al and the door. He couldn't detect any presence out of the ordinary. If Al would stay put now the emergency was over. The threat, albeit one that he himself created, had passed.

He was sure that they would listen now because he would be able to talk to them normally. He had his bearings back well enough to put on his game face. Damn, it was hard, but he felt that he had managed to do pretty well through the whole fiasco. He hadn't revealed his secrets and they just thought he had gotten a little upset, that was all.

"That's good, brother, just, you know, try to calm down and we can sit down and talk about this," Al offered with far greater composure than he felt. "You can tell me what I did to upset you so much, okay? And then I can fix it."

"You're not going anywhere," Ed said firmly, as much to assure himself as to reinforce his order to Al.

"That's right. We just have to settle down so we can sort all this out." Al's eyes searched his brother's

"I'm already settled. I'm perfectly calm now. You're the ones being unreasonable!" Ed volleyed back, raising his head in a passable imitation of indignant self-assurance.

That was met with a moment of startled silence as they all failed to come up with response.

"So stop screwing around," Ed said, measuring his tone and slowing his delivery even more. "Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. Just sit down and let me go."

He seemed in control now, another head-rattling about-face. The Major released him warily; but all Ed did was point expectantly at the chair with his jaw set in a severe frown.

Al complied and Ed thumped into the chair next to him, apparently all out of fight.

"You don't go running off when I tell you not to," Ed said into his hands, leaning hard against Al to confirm his presence. He was rapidly coming off the peak of his empowering rush of self-command; the adrenaline had dissipated, taking the mind-clouding panic with it and leaving a dull ache in its stead. Maybe he could still hammer home the point that Al had to do as he said, regardless.

"Wait. I was only going because you said..."

"You listen to me now, all right? Things change, things...I know what's best! And it may not be the same every single minute!"

"Okay, okay. But this is okay, right? We're good here now?" Al asked, alert and preparing to ride along with the next bizarre mood swing.

Ed nodded, still rubbing at his face trying to think ahead. Everything he tried worked because he put so much effort into it. Al didn't want to leave at all until the idea was driven home repeatedly. Then, when he was nearly out the door, he obeyed and came right back. Getting him to leave again should be possible now that he knew what it took to convince him. But figuring out how to tell him about the safety issues without worrying him so much that he changed his mind about the two of them separating...that was going to be tough. Maybe the military would agree to escort him back if he thought up a reason for them to make the trip.

"Look, Ed, can you at least tell me what I did to upset you?"

"Nothing. You just have to realize you can't stay here forever. But don't go yet. Not yet."

"I don't want to go any time soon. I'm trying to be as much help to you as I can, and there are some things you need to let me take care of more often. Like…look…can I?" Al reached out a tentative hand; he sensed the Major's disapproval but went ahead. So long as he wasn't pulled away, he was going to keep trying. Whether it was an obvious ploy or not, he was going to take a shot at the one opening Ed always seemed to leave for him to get close. "You keep putting me off, but this is supposed to be my job. I need to check your automail. Get up here and sit on the bed with me, okay?"

Ed's head dipped in acquiescence, and both Al and the Major moved in to assist. Al's hands were warm, and their caring touch sent a message to his heart. Al was here, normal and human and alive and fine. He could breathe a little easier knowing that at least he hadn't screwed that up again. At any rate, not yet.

"Look, Al, just do as I say, okay? I know best. Don't try taking off again until I say so. I'll tell you when it's safe to go."

Ed wasn't quite able to hide his true state, still visibly shaky and hyper-alert; Al held onto him possessively, motioning for Armstrong to hurry and bring him the kit for Ed's daily maintenance. He grabbed it up when Havoc brought it instead, hurrying to start the process before the opportunity slipped away.

"I won't. I'm here for you as long as you need me. I'm going to open the latch here now, don't be startled, okay? This might take a little longer than usual, I want to make sure nothing got out of whack with all that horsing around." Al almost held his breath. The tension had been building for days, he'd been rebuffed in every attempt to service the automail for almost a week. Now it was like a fever had broken. Ed didn't act as though his touch was pure acid; he seemed accepting of it, like he had been in the past.

"Now, Edward, I think we should address your behavior. You struck your brother and that is completely unacceptable," Armstrong said.

Al shot the Major an angry glare before riveting his attention back on Ed's shoulder. If his big mouth upset Ed and interrupted their time together…

"I did, didn't I?" Ed said, daring himself to look at what he'd done. He kept Al in his peripheral vision more and more these days, because the urge to gaze into his face was only getting stronger. It was still hard to believe that the armor really was gone for good, and if he didn't watch out, he'd end up staring until someone shook him.

He couldn't quite take in the condition of Al's face as emotion blurred his vision, but he tried anyway. "I'm sorry, Al. I suck sometimes. Does it still hurt?"

Al's heart nearly stopped when Ed lifted his head, turning slightly to look him straight in the eyes. The amber orbs were full of affectionate regret and guilt. It was the look he knew best from their days before the abduction. It was a look that once as familiar as his own voice, and something he was beginning to think he would never see again.

"I'm certain that Alphonse forgives you, we all do, but it's important for you to understand why striking out is not the right choice to make," Armstrong said quickly. He hoped Al would get his drift and not blindly tell Ed he'd done nothing wrong.

"You mean, don't tell me 'sorry' if you won't stop making the same mistake," Ed said, turning back away, saved from getting lost in the moment because it forced him to think. The Major was right. His own belief was something like that: I don't care if you're sorry, just tell me you won't do it again.

"I don't want you to worry about it, it's no big deal, but, well, you did kind of catch me off guard. I can feel a little bump. You can't go around punching people, all right? If you want to spar, that's different but you have to give me fair warning first." Al's fingers were moving now, gentle as his words were honest, trying to reclaim the conversation and Ed's attention.

"I know. I won't do it again. I am sorry, Al. I really am." Ed's hyper-alertness took in the good as well as the bad, and Al's touch was communicating the kind of affectionate, worried support he could barely tolerate, undeserving as he was. His greedy heart and soul wanted to cling to every little sensation. He was listening far more intently with his need than he was with his ears, and the conversation was now starting to be more of a distraction. And on top of all that, what he really should be doing was coming up with another plan to get Al sent safely away. His head and heart were a mess, and it made his stomach roll in bitter confusion.

But they just kept trying to make him keep up a conversation, and it was more than he could manage.

"So why, then, Ed? Can you tell me why you did it?"

"It was wrong. It's not like I want to hurt you. I said I was sorry." Ed's hands covered his face. Stop talking, please, just for a little while. Wait until my heart slows down to normal. Let me think!.

"Put your arms down while this is open, okay? I forgive you. That still doesn't tell me why you were so upset with me. Maybe if you can share a little about how you were feeling, or what you were thinking, I can help. I mean, if it had to do with something I said or did…"

"I did it because you weren't listening to me, all right?" Ed snapped back, wresting away his shoulder from under Al's reach. He just couldn't take all this input at once, and the frustration was impossible to hide. "It doesn't matter now, does it? All this shit that's happened, I can't say it won't happen again if you don't pay attention. You still need to do what I tell you when I tell you to do it!"

"Let's cool down some more before we start up any new arguments. I think we've had enough excitement for one day," Havoc said. "Here, Al. Put this on your cheek for a minute."

Giving Al the damp cloth put Havoc in a strategically good position, poised to move directly between the boys and separate them if need be. The chair next to Ed squeaked in reluctance at having to bear the Major's weight, the distraction drawing the amber eyes away for a moment, completing his reversal of the mounting tension.

"Not now, can't you tell I'm busy? I'll do it when I'm through. I need my hands for this. Ed, come on, let me…"

"Don't. Close me up," Ed said, adamant despite his regret at losing the moment with Al.

"But…we'll have to do this later, then. You know that. We'll have to start all over from the beginning," Al said. Damn it, why hadn't he kept his own mouth shut? But at least Ed was still talking to him. It didn't feel like a freeze-out.

"Just close it, okay? Do it for me later. I'll be good, I promise."

"That's best anyway," Havoc said, waiting until the latch was set and offering the cold compress to Al again.

Ed stood and kicked the empty chair back out of his way, leaving them abruptly. They all watched as he snatched up the hand weights and began shadowboxing furiously at the far end of the room near his bed, back purposely turned to the mirror to avoid his reflection.

He didn't have to look to know they were staring, but this was the best he could think to do. He couldn't sit still and let them keep pecking away with all those questions. He might slip. He might reveal the true nature of what he was attempting to do. He might not be able to resist grabbing Al and squeezing him tight until that pained, forlorn look went away, and just worsen the difficulty of letting one another go. He was too exhausted to trust his behavior at rest, so counter-intuitively, his best option was greater effort and activity.

Well, let them stare until they had their fill. Time was not to be wasted at this point and he could kill two birds with one stone by priming his body while he tried to think of the best way to get Al safely back to Risembool where he truly belonged.

Al sat stunned for few moments. What the hell just happened here, anyway? Havoc's hand on his back raised his hackles for a split-second, but he suppressed the urge to shake it off. Havoc's support was genuine and he needed it right now. He'd caught just that little glimpse of the Ed he'd been searching for before it disappeared again, like a face nearly breaking the surface before sinking back into deep, dark waters…but it was there. He wasn't fooling himself, it really was there. This wasn't a lost cause. Someday, if he persisted and didn't give up, he would have his brother back - the person he loved most in this world, that loved him back just as much if not more. They were still family, first and forever, and the light at the end of the tunnel, tiny and far away though it was, had never been brighter in this whole mess.

For some time the room was still but for the sounds of Ed's exertion. None of them could think of a reason to stop him, nor could they figure out why they so sorely wished they could.

xxxxxxx

Mustang straightened his collar, then his hair, deciding against slicking it back. Nothing should seem abnormal, nothing to alert anyone that he had any ulterior motive in accompanying Havoc to meet his woman.

Well, nothing except the ulterior motive they would naturally assume that he had – namely, stealing said woman away.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Ever since Hawkeye and Black Hayate's encounter, he was sure it was more than a coincidence that those odd characters were discovered in the same area of town they'd identified as a potential stomping ground for the homunculi. He was itching to have a look around for himself without upsetting the Lieutenant and interfering with the covert operations. When he found out that Havoc's lady friend called from a number within the area of those suspicious streets, and the opportunity was just too tempting to pass up. The thought of running across the beasts that killed Piper and captured Fullmetal made his blood boil in anticipation.

The suspicion that the same beast might have been the one to steal Hughes' life away made him shaky with rage.

It wasn't just anger at the perpetrator that stirred him up so fiercely. Pulling down the corner of one eyelid to inspect the bloodshot orb, he felt the deep pangs of the regret and self-recriminations that would forever haunt him. Hughes was such a bright, larger-than-life, animated fellow. A wonderful father, devoted husband; a better friend no man could ask for. Hughes had your back. So much so that he put the heart and hope of his beloved, cherished family on the line, risking his own life to protect everyone else's. The cry for help that went out to his trusted friend went unanswered, and he died deserted and disappointed in a pool of his own blood, with only the enemy to share his last moments.

Mustang's imagination had supplied him with the missing details a million times over. Having heard so many disturbing details of Fullmetal's ordeal, he was certain that Hughes' last moments were spent listening to cruel taunts, knowing full well it was the end. He died of blood loss, after all, and from the scene it was determined that bleeding out took a fair amount of time. Time that he no doubt spent desperately hoping that the friend he had risked his life supporting for so very long would show up and take care of business like he was supposed to, until it became miserably clear that his faith was misplaced after all.

It was his fault Hughes died. He should have been easier to reach, faster to respond, alert to the situation. He had this attitude, this assumption, that Hughes was just one of those people that bad things didn't happen to. It was unimaginable. Of everyone, who would think to murder him, when his false mask of goofy ineffectiveness made him seem so harmless?

It was frightening to think how the enemy knew of Hughes' true talents. Mind readers? Supreme intelligence? No, that didn't seem to add up when you looked at Fullmetal's experience. It left him with the worst possibilities of all. Either they had been infiltrated by spies providing information to the monsters…or somehow, this was an inside job.

"You're out there somewhere, you bastards, and I'm going to find you and send you straight to hell," he scowled at his reflection, dark eyes narrowed in yearning for revenge.

He'd waffled on whether to wear the uniform. It would alert the enemy; but since he doubted it would scare them off, it was fine. The ignition gloves tucked in his pocket were the only important items in his wardrobe anyway. Let them come. He just needed one thing from them first, before he reduced them to a satisfying cinder. A full, damning confession.

He turned his head slightly to the side, admiring his flawless complexion and chiseled profile. He still looked damned good even in the arguably clunky uniform. Havoc would probably be looking slick in civvies and that was fine. The man was supposed to be the one going on a date, after all. And once the date got rolling and his commanding officer became nothing more than a third wheel…that wheel would roll on out into the neighborhood to have that look around and 'entertain' himself.

Havoc wasn't the only one who was an excellent tactician and expert at diversion.

A mischievous smile quirked his lips as he nodded to the mirror, hat tucked under his arm, ready and itching to dig in to this promising day.

xxxxxx

Gansworth draped his white coat over his arm, juggling his bag to free a hand to straighten his shirt collar as he walked briskly down the hall. Another disruption in his day; but this was something he was anxious to see about. With Ed's sudden, if intermittent, increase in his ability to grasp the situation around him, these incidents such as last night's made for crucial opportunities, indeed. Steering his recovery down the right path was mighty tricky when so much of it was guesswork. But if Ed was beginning to give them meaningful feedback, not only might the appropriate treatments become easier to determine, but general progress should pick up some speed as well.

Of course, couched in all this was some pretty enigmatic thinking, even though the behavior was sometimes closer to 'normal.' Ejecting Al with harsh insults then pulling him back with apologies…well, the Major had been descriptive enough in relaying the events in their brief conversation, but it would be best if Edward were able to explain what his thoughts and feelings were at the time. It was important to ascertain whether these were disorganized impulses, or a poorly executed attempt to act out on some conviction or emotional need that may yet to be resolved.

Havoc was fast on the door when he knocked. When it opened, he noted Ed hurrying from his bed to take up a defensive stance in front of Al, clearly on high alert and disturbed by his entrance.

"Lieutenant," Gansworth said quietly. "Still on informal lockdown?"

Facing away from the room, Havoc responded in kind so as not to be overheard.

"He's very cautious about who might be coming in. He wants the door shut and locked. Hasn't been an issue, though - we didn't have any reason to deny his request. I.D., sir, and passphrase."

"He's been reasonably stable in his thinking since the incident?"

"Pretty much."

Gansworth made the extra fumble for his card and gave his phrase. Thank heavens they'd finally relented on daily passphrase changes for the medical staff. In a true emergency, the delay over a forgotten or mis-remembered phrase could be disastrous. Now they were good for a month at a time, and that was one less thing to have to contend with on a daily basis.

"Any further violence?"

"No. It was just that split-second, and he knew it was wrong right away."

"I'll have a look at Al first. Then I'll need some time to talk with Edward. Perhaps you can escort Al out for…"

"With respect, that isn't likely to work. Ed wants Al to stay in here with him right now. That's the one issue he won't budge on."

Gansworth nodded. Havoc looked a tad nervous; he wondered if it was because of the trip he was taking off base with the Colonel this afternoon. Regardless of the reason, the man needed to take a break away from here, and it was good to hear that he was finally complying. Points to Mustang for forcing the issue and getting Havoc to agree to it.

"Thank you, Lieutenant; I'll see what I can do."

It took a moment for Ed to be able to focus in on who it was that Havoc was letting into the room. He watched to make sure the man was carded and checked out properly; the process happened often enough that if there was any sloppiness in the security measures, Ed would have seen it. It was hard to take in what was happening at first - at the sound of the knock at the door, he was caught trying to rest, and going from nearly asleep to battle-ready in mere seconds took his breath away. A slight red haze rimmed his vision from the struggle to maintain control despite the rush of fear and panic. But as the scene unfolded peacefully, he remembered to breathe again, and his eyesight cleared up a little. Without thinking about it, he had placed himself protectively between Al and the door, slightly crouched and somewhat embarrassingly ready in case of sudden attack.

Al reached out cautiously, getting a hand on Ed's back to reassure him but fully aware it might have the opposite effect if he wasn't careful.

"How is everyone today?" Gansworth started, wearing what he hoped was his most disarming smile.

Ed brought up a clenched fist; that move, coupled with the serious look on his face, had both the Major and Havoc instantly prepared to close in.

But Ed's fist continued to rise until it pressed regretfully against his own mouth; his eyes fell before his head bowed, letting the blond hair fall like a curtain to cover his shame.

"Yeah. Of course. They told you that I hit him. They did, didn't they? Well, it's true. I sucker-punched my own brother in the face, and worse than that, I did it with the automail. You should look him over and make sure I didn't hurt him seriously." In his rush of embarrassed guilt, the truth tumbled out before he had a chance to decide if it was wise to speak or not.

"You don't have to say it like that! It's not that big of a deal! Now look at me, Ed, I'm fine!" Al started to protest.

"All right, all right, let's quiet down now. I want you all to listen to me for a moment. I will have a look at you, Alphonse, if you please - sit here for me. Edward, I'd like to thank you for your honesty. I will see to your brother and make sure that he gets proper treatment. And once we have the peace of mind of knowing that he's been taken care of, at that point we can discuss how this happened."

Ed swallowed and gave a sharp nod before retiring to his bed to sit and watch with moody worry.

"Is this the spot?" Gansworth touched the slightly darkened cheek, confirming that the entire surrounding area was as overly warm as it was red.

"Yeah." Al tried not to flinch, but it did still hurt pretty bad. "It's okay, though, he barely bumped me. And they made me keep icing it down all night."

"Hold still. This may hurt a bit; I'm going to apply a little pressure." The bone beneath didn't reveal any abnormalities, but of course that didn't eliminate the possibility of a hairline fracture. Still, even if he had sustained one, it wasn't like it could be splinted or put in a cast. Al bore it grimly, so he was certain that this was a harder blow than the slight contact he described.

With the situation as quiet as it was now, it seemed better to flesh out the details a little less directly. Ed freely admitted his responsibility for his actions; there was no need to grind the severity of it in his face.

"I'd like you to continue icing it, ten minutes on then twenty off for the next few hours at least. I can give you a little something to help with the pain. Is there anything else bothering you today, Alphonse? Is your stomach still giving you problems?"

"I'm fine. Really. You didn't have to come clear over here just because of this." Al glanced back; Ed looked away quickly before their eyes met, blushing. It was that exact mortified reaction that Al had been trying to help him get past since he stopped that obsessive workout of his.

"Think nothing of it. I had other business in the building and your room was on the way," Gansworth lied smoothly. "This was more for my peace of mind. I'm quite sure that these gentlemen wouldn't have hesitated in asking for help if there was anything that appeared to be serious."

"He's okay then?" Ed asked tightly, struggling with the need to appear composed and fully rational in spite of the distraction of his guilt and tangled emotions.

"Yes, Edward. Now I'd like to have a look at you next, so please remain seated."

"What, you think I might have skinned these knuckles?" he asked, flipping up the automail hand with a frown. Closer inspection was not something he welcomed without resistance.

"Of course not. I just want to do a simple check of your vitals. I imagine that this was a very disturbing experience for you."

The cold pack Gansworth produced from his bag was far colder than the ones Al had been using; the doctor helped him wrap it in a short length of white linen, showing him the best way to apply it with care.

"Not as disturbing as for Al. Just take care of him, he's the patient," Ed said tightly.

"Ed, I told you, it wasn't that big of a deal." Al noticed how the doctor's focus was divided even as he explored the injury, subtly attentive and highly sensitive in detecting his brother's reactions. This visit was probably more of a check on Ed's behavior, and not just the violence part. Those claims that he was never a help, that Ed didn't want him here…it made him very nervous. The doctor would be trying to get to the root of all that. He would be impartial, like always, but that was part of the problem. He shouldn't be impartial; he should encourage Ed to see those statements as false and help him remember all the important ways his brother was necessary to his existence, now and in the future. He needed help long-term and he needed to understand that the only person he could lean on for the rest of his life was right here, vital to his recovery, willing and able to do whatever it took to help him return to the world at large.

Impartial listening could start Ed back on that tangent of rejection. Listening without contradicting could seem like encouragement and validation. Al couldn't sit silently and let that happen.

"You two are at peace at this point, apparently. But I'd like to know a little more about what transpired here. Even if it's difficult to understand, I don't believe it's best to just gloss this over." The dynamic between the boys was quirky. Both were off-balance and seemed reluctant to talk, concerned about discussing what happened. For Ed, his guilt and embarrassment were easy to read; but it was yet to be seen if he knew why he suddenly attacked Al both physically and with the most surgically cruel verbal assault to date. The Major's description of Ed's tirade implied that Al's primary insecurities were singled out so perfectly that it was purposeful. The intent was probably to drive Al away and if so, it was vital to track down the motivation for it. Al seemed a bit guilty and fearful as well, no doubt internalizing some of the criticism as valid and understandably worried.

"He said a lot of things that weren't true and he admitted it,' Al said defensively. "I forgive him. I mean, I'd sure like to know if I did something to upset him that triggered it, but it's not like he meant all those insults. Right, Ed?"

"No, Al," Ed said quietly, picking at the blanket folded at the foot of his bed. He wasn't looking at them but he heard the physical shift of bodies and tensed automatically, preparing for the doctor's inevitable approach. "I said I was sorry and I meant it. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that."

"But it's good to look at it a bit more and think about what prompted the incident. The more we understand, the less likely we are to be caught by surprise in this way again." Gansworth waited, talking down to the top of the bowed head of person clearly putting off the moment when he'd have to give up and stop pretending that he hadn't realized it was his turn to be looked after.

"So you want to know if I really hate my brother? That's what you want to ask me, isn't it? Even though he's sitting right there? You've got some lousy technique."

"Easy, there," Gansworth said, taking Ed's shoulder to test his response. "I want you to talk to me, yes, and if you'd prefer privacy I'm sure I can arrange it."

"I don't hate him. It'll be the same answer whether he's sitting there or not. Just get this over with." Ed tolerated the ensuing poking and prodding; Gansworth went medico on him and the only talking for a while centered on his physical condition and various requests to adjust clothing and change position.

"You can feel the stress, I'm sure," the doctor concluded, dipping into his bag to put away equipment and select two pills. "These will help."

Ed met the offer with a scowl, turning away.

"They're very mild. You'll be just as alert as you are now. But if you keep going this way, I may end up having to sedate you fully. It's not good to let your blood pressure stay elevated for so long. You know that you're susceptible to stress-related illnesses. So I'm going to ask you to cooperate and take these. Not for me, not to make you easier to deal with - you need to take them for your health."

Nervously reluctant, Ed complied. The wracking he'd been giving his supposedly genius brain had more than taken its toll and while he had his new solution mostly worked out, he had no idea how loosening his lips with medication might play out. Al would be in the room and overhear; but that wouldn't hurt and actually might help. Just so long as he played it carefully, it should work. These people were all committed to helping him get better, and instead of fighting it, this was an opportunity to go for broke and exploit it to his own ends.

"Thank you, Edward. Now, as for the issue of privacy, we can simply do as we have in the past. I'm sure Lt. Havoc has time to take Al for a…"

"No. No leaving. Al has to stay here where it's safe. It's all right, I trust him. If you tell him not to listen, he won't."

Aha, Gansworth smiled inwardly. Al's safety is still a stated primary issue here, and Ed's trust in Al was still intact. So as he had guessed, it was likely that the part of the altercation where Ed was frantic to have Al returned to him was based on the need to keep him close and therefore safe. That was consistent with Elric behavior in general, and Ed's historic personality traits in particular. It was likely a backlash of coming into reality after being immersed in the role of attacker. The mystery was still the attack, which he surmised may have developed as some offshoot of a dream, flashback or hallucination that temporarily confused Ed as to their relationship.

"That's certainly an admirable amount of trust. But let's make it easier on him, shall we? He can benefit from a stretching his legs a little."

"No. Put him at the table over there and we'll talk right here quietly. 'Cause…" Ed shuddered in a sudden yawn and caught the significance; the medication was working already, whisking away his clenched muscles and taking some of his caution with it. "Because, fuck it, if he leaves now I'm done talking to you."

Gansworth nodded, first to Ed in agreement, then to Havoc and Al so they would do as Ed suggested. The Major moved closer and settled nearby; Ed didn't seem to take much notice.

His plan was growing clearer in his mind, though his command of the language was getting a little slippery. He wanted to get it started and set things in motion. He was pretty sure…no, he was positive that this was the only way it could work. He was in no position to escort Al anyhere. He had to make it the mission of the few people he could trust to get his brother safely home. He'd touched on this idea before and dismissed it, thinking it best to try and remove the military from Al's equation completely. But now it was simply not possible, and the need for military involvement couldn't be helped.

He had planned to spend more time getting the words just right ahead of time, but really, after that over-planned fiasco with Al, maybe impromptu was more his style. With the boost of medicated confidence, he launched in. Gansworth's face and voice had grown on him over so many days and months, instilling more faith and attachment than he felt for his own father and he no longer questioned what motivated this stranger to step into his life and lift him up out of hell again and again. In the end he decided intellectually to follow what his churning gut told him emotionally – trust this man. Trust his kindness and his earnest offer of help, and use him shamelessly to the fullest.

"I admit that I lied, but I had a reason."

"All right. Can you do something for me? I appreciate your candor, but that statement is a bit in the middle for me, and to understand I'd like to hear more, from the beginning. You've said you lied, but I don't really know all that was said. Can you back up and tell me how this started, and what you said that wasn't true?"

Ed waited until the man settled into the chair and poised his pen expectantly. Funny, how spotting a pen still gave him that weird suicidal urge, so strong that it felt like it wrenched his balls clear up into his gut. It passed as quickly as it came; he guessed that feeling was a part of him now. Another permanent scar, but at least it was one that didn't have to show.

"Edward?"

"Just making sure you were ready."

Ed managed to relay a decent version of how it all took place. He really did start out asking Al to leave for his own sake. That sort of got lost in the mess he made of things afterward. He explained as accurately as possible the things he said. The tweaking came in relating what he'd been thinking and feeling.

Gansworth made sympathetic, encouraging noises, writing notes like a house afire, asking the occasional pointed question – basically taking it all in as gospel.

This was working like a charm. It felt so strange to be deceitful by telling the truth. It made his head spin, first a little, then a lot - but he kept at it.

"Al, you know, he's my brother, he's all I have, it's not like any of those mean things I said were true. But…because he's so good, so…so loyal…I knew it would take a lot to push him away. I just…I just thought it would hurt him less if he got mad, if I could make him feel like he was free to go, like I didn't need him here anymore. I was wrong. It hurt him a lot, I know that now. But this is damaging, too, though, big time. There's life…it's out there…and he's stuck here? How is that right? It's not that he thinks he can hang around forever, I mean, that's obvious, he's smart, he has to know that already. But he needs to go pretty soon and somehow he's gotta get himself motivated. You gotta help him, okay? He might listen to you. I shoulda…I should have come to you and asked you. Ah, what an idiot. Like it was really bright to cuss him out and take a…take a…" Ed threw a mock punch in illustration, and his arm froze at full extension, as if he forgot it was raised. After a few moment's the doctor's hand closed over his, bringing the automail down slowly and safely.

"So you weren't really trying to hurt him." Gansworth scribbled and nodded, a little surprised that the assault had a basis in reality, but in a good way. Ed may have handled it badly, but his intent was mostly positive and there was logic in his approach until his emotional instability got the upper hand.

"I never meant to hit him! I couldn't get him to understand, I just got meaner and nastier until I couldn't stand to say anything worse. I saw how it hurt him and it was all I could think to do to resolve it. Like ripping off a bandage or something." Funny, it was somehow more upsetting to explain because this was exactly what happened and how it felt. The only thing he was really concealing was his true underlying motivation.

"Have you considered whether you might be overestimating the burden that staying here represents for your brother? Alphonse is not wasting away by any means, son. We are helping him, as well. And he is free to leave when the time is right for him. You wouldn't want him to go before he's truly ready. That doesn't mean he plans for the two of you to stay here forever."

"I know. He…he says he wants us to move back home when we're able, but I just…he hasn't got a job, you know, and I don't have any money, they take all my disability to cover my room and board and medical stuff…I can't help support him yet, not 'til I get back on active duty. And then he wants me to quit the military. Well, okay, but…that doesn't work, somebody has to pay for living expenses. I mean, I don't know, I make my money here, that's been my job, if I'm gonna do something else, then he's got to be the one working while I learn, right? That's one thing, he's gotta go learn a trade first. Him first, then me later. Not both at once. And he sure as shit isn't joining the fucking military, no way am I gonna let that happen. Makes sense, right? Right?"

"I'm listening. Please go on."

"So you'll help us, won't you? You can help him see that it's best, you know? It's the only way for both of us to get back out on our own that makes any sense."

"You've really given me a lot of information, Edward, so please pardon me if I haven't followed it all correctly. I'm not trying to oversimplify, but let me start breaking this down so I understand what happened today. Are you saying that you were trying to express these concerns to your brother and you had a slip in judgment? And that you still have the same concerns?

"Huh?"

"Let me try again. Please correct me if I'm misinterpreting. Your concern was – and is - that you feel Al doesn't want to return to your old hometown until you're ready to leave. You disagreed, not because you are upset with Al or don't want to join him, but because he fails to see what you feel is the practical need for him to complete certain preparations on his own. You want him to take some vocational training and set up his own household before you join him since you feel that he cannot stay here to be your full time companion and pursue these ventures at the same time. You lashed out from pure frustration, nothing more."

"Yeah. That's it, I guess. You agree with me, don't you? I'm right, aren't I?"

"Well…it's a little difficult to say there's a right or a wrong in deciding someone else's future. It really is Alphonse's choice. But there is good logic in your viewpoint, and I understand why you would feel that way."

"He should at least go look into it. It's not like he'll be banned forever the minute he leaves, he can always come back. The military has to go pick up my old automail anyway so he should get ready to go so he can hitch a ride. I need it back, I mean, I really need it bad, I'll never qualify for the reinstatement physical with this shitty flimsy automail, and the Colonel said they'd get it for me. He promised. It must be fixed by now and I need it!" If this worked, this plan had it all. It delivered Al safely away, kept Winry from returning and got him his old, battle-worthy automail back.

"I do see. I'm very impressed with your rational thinking. There's no reason why we can't sit down and engage in some dialogue with your brother, calmly and logically, and see where this line of thought takes us. It would be a healthy step to get everyone's feelings and opinions out in the open."

Ed's mouth cocked to the side as he tried to interpret the serious expression on the doctor's face. Was this true cooperation or one of those tricks to get him to fall into line and stop making waves?

It sounded good, and he really hand no choice but to take it at face value, so he nodded his agreement and rose, starting to call to Al.

"Whoa, whoa, wait, Edward. That's not the sort of thing we have time for right this moment. Let's schedule something in the very near future. Besides, I'd like to wait until Alphonse's face has fully recovered so we aren't overly focused on that issue. In the meanwhile, the two of you need to concentrate on maintaining peaceful co-habitation."

"Soon. Make it really soon, as soon as possible. Okay?"

"I can't promise anything specific at the moment but we'll get to it as soon as practical. For now, what I'd like is for you to agree to try and catch yourself before things escalate out of control. Tell someone the very first moment you become aware of that feeling of panic that you just described to me, rather than trying to fend it off until it's too late."

Ed settled for that answer. He'd thrown it all out there and it was obvious that the doctor wanted to spend some time reviewing notes, the way he was shuffling and examining them, making additional notations here and there. It definitely got his attention. So far, it didn't look like a bad move, tactically.

And he felt a little better when he caught Alphonse's expression, no longer tight with hurt and worry. It was easier for everyone this way. He loved his little brother, and the nasty things he'd said couldn't be further from the truth.

With bemused regret he forced his hands to stay still as the pen disappeared back into the doctor's pocket.

xxxx

Envy wasn't afraid of running into Lust; she just bugged the shit out of him, and he preferred a little less irritation in his day. Arguing with her was as pointless as arguing with that fat tub of goo Gluttony. How she got off criticizing him for setting the slobbering moron straight was beyond belief. They all knew not to hunt close to this place. Father would eliminate them all if the entrance to the tunnel was exposed and caused interference with his plans for the Promised Day. He'd have been in the right if he'd taken that idiot's stone and let him fizzle out entirely. He could use a little more power anyway; a second stone could set him up with the momentum he needed to make all his plans come alive.

The drop down into the sewer system was easy; finding the hidden portal he'd made to shortcut into Sloth's tunnel was not. He was a little too good at hiding it, and it was Rage's excitement at sensing him close by that usually leaked through the microscopic gaps in the masonry and helped him hone in on the right section of fungus-coated wall that served as his secret entrance.

He was pretty sure this was it, but the usual sense of his offspring's presence was nowhere to be found. His last heated exchange with Lust played back in his head and he sped up the search. She said he'd regret pissing her off, and she'd said it with the implication that she had a punishment in mind.

Rage was his weak spot, and she knew it. Rage and Edward. But Edward was a protected sacrifice, and he wasn't helplessly trapped close at hand…

Damn her! Envy raked the wall, no longer worried about leaving tell-tale marks. He could come back and cover it up later. His nail caught the edge of a split in the stone; directly below, he stepped down on a balanced slab of concrete, and the section rolled aside.

Barely patient enough to close the portal behind him, he scurried the length of the connecting chamber, cautiously poking his head into the dimly lit cavern.

The barred cell, still littered with a few scraps of belongings from the former nursemaids, was empty and wide open. Not surprising; that was how he'd left it.

But the frame, staked into the ground between the cage and the passage to the homunculus lair, was new. Strapped to it, Rage's small body hung motionless, an alarming silhouette against the brighter light of the tunnel's exit.

Envy felt overwhelmed with surprise as he found himself dashing to cut down the child and check for signs of life. How could he let this be his priority? He was sure that Lust was to blame, and making her pay for her insolence was much more important; her transgression was just as unacceptable whether she'd actually killed Rage or not, it wasn't necessary to check on him before retaliating. But somehow, he just had to do this first.

The little head lolled as he pulled the body free, kicking the frame away in anger. With his ear to the tiny chest, all manner of mixed feelings began bashing about in Envy's stunned brain. The faint thread of a heartbeat proved that Rage was alive, but brutalized to the point of self-protective coma. Envy had been in that state before, and knew well how far they would have gone to force Rage's body into bare survival mode.

Humans didn't have that capability; had Rage been any less homunculus, he would be long dead instead of healing himself in a suspended state. Even Envy knew when to quit when it came to human hybrids. With Edward, temptation had taken him further than he should have gone, but at least he knew what the line was when he crossed it. Hohenheim's blood afforded Ed little protection, if any at all. But the combination of Ed's slight homunculus bloodline mixed with Envy's pure one seemed to have saved the little bastard this day.

By holding the small body close, Envy managed to communicate his presence clear down into the submerged consciousness of his offspring.

Rage stirred and clutched tight. Envy allowed it instead of the usual punishment for sentimentality. It was hard to get your bearings when you revived from a suspended state; nearly as disorienting as taking over a new body.

"Mama," Rage whispered, coughing and shaking.

"Found your voice? Good. What happened?"

Rage didn't respond fast enough and Envy rewarded that delay with anger.

"Tell me now, damn it! Who did this? Tell me exactly what they said. Now!"

"Mama," Rage gasped. "Lust and Gluttony, Mama. Lust said you needed a lesson. She said I was her toy if you didn't obey her. That I wouldn't be yours anymore. I said no. I said no."

"What else?" Envy snarled, picturing that bitch lording it over Rage. "What else did she say?"

"There wasn't much talking. Just doing."

"So what did they do? You look okay. Are you all healed up?"

"My…my.." Rage turned away and looked down at his leg in alarm. He flexed his foot up and it responded with a weak twitch.

"What? Speak up!"

"She told him to eat them, but look! It grew back! I tried to get away and he was going to eat them both so I couldn't run but the one made him so sick she had to do everything herself. That's what she said, she said you're so useless I have to do everything myself!"

Rage seemed fine, so Envy was going to shove him away, until he noticed something. Rage's little body was healing visibly as they touched; and instead of feeling like it was sapping energy from Envy's stone, it was just the opposite. Their inner stones were resonating, both increasing in strength. They were pieces of the same whole, and they fueled one another's brilliance. If you looked hard you could see it, a beautiful crimson aura, faint but visible. Envy suspected that as Rage grew and his powers increased, the aura and their connection would grow as well.

"I wonder what your daddy will do when he sees us like this," Envy chuckled. Rage was flexing the newly-spawned leg and marveling that it was as good as the other already. Everything seemed fully repaired now. For a moment, Envy hesitated to break off contact. It had been forever since the stone in his chest had been refreshed. This felt every bit as good. But, it wasn't good to spoil children. So with a sudden backhand, Rage was sent flying and Envy stood frowning down at the startled golden eyes.

"My daddy? What's that?" Rage asked, flinching in case that was the wrong question.

"You'll meet him when I say you'll meet him. So is that it? They kicked your ass and that's all you know?"

"I…I went to sleep when it hurt too much. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"Well, you ought to be. I'm going to have a talk with that bitch. I may have to find another place for you to stay when I'm out doing business from now on."

"Okay, Mama. I'm sorry, Mama."

"Oh, just stay put and shut up!" Envy stalked away without a glance back, a hand over the warmth slowly receding into the stone from their connection. Rage was developing so quickly now, the vision of using him as one of the sacrifices wasn't far-fetched anymore. He had a compelling argument if Lust wanted to pull that threat of taking their dispute to Father. It was time to have it out with her, no holds barred.

Gluttony was on the couch, laid out, moaning about his stomach. Envy nodded in satisfaction. As he suspected, Rage's body was far too toxic of a meal for the fat toad. That, at least, was one less threat to be concerned about.

"Where is she?"

"Out. My stomach. My head. Ugggghhh."

"What do you mean out? Talk, damn it!"

"I don't know. She had something to do. Be quiet, my head!"

"Idiot. You're lucky I don't erase you for what you did."

Envy smacked the bald head and flopped sideways across the easy chair, plotting revenge and grumbling in wait for that traitorous whore.

xxxxxxx

"So you'll be back soon? I mean, not that you have to. I was just wondering..."

Havoc ruffled Al's hair and smiled.

"I won't be long. Ed's having a really good day now, huh? I'll be back before you even notice."

Al grinned back. They'd actually had a very good day. Less than an hour ago, they'd all been poking each other in the ribs and it had devolved into a brief tickle war. Silly as hell, but they'd all laughed more in those few minutes than any of them had in forever. It was a shame it was interrupted, but Al felt like it was just the start of better times.

The Major nodded from his station in the doorway to the restroom, smiling. Realistically, the brief bout of good spirits had no impact on the need to keep Ed in his peripheral vision as showered.

Enfield gave the thumbs up from his seat at the table. Ed was in good shape, all right, but orders were orders, and the two-up watch had to be maintained. Sometimes Ed acted a little funny when he tried to help Al, so he had to stay cognizant of it when he was on duty here. Whether protectiveness or jealousy or some combination of both, Enfield found that it wasn't nearly as easy to get along with Ed in this situation as it had been one-on-one.

The Major and Havoc didn't have those issues as far a he could tell so he tried to mimic their style, in case it was some part of his personality that triggered Ed's resistance.

"I'm gonna shove off before he comes out. I think it'll be easier that way."

"Yeah." It took some self-restraint for Al to keep his arms down. This wasn't some long separation. It didn't require a man-hug.

Havoc surprised him with one anyway, a big, warm bear hug followed by a soft thump on the head before he made for the door.

"Good luck," Armstrong grinned.

"Thanks. I'll need it."

The door shut and Al was on the Major in an instant.

"Why does he need luck? I thought you said this was just some personal errand."

"He's hoping for luck in his personal life. It's not my place to discuss those sorts of details, I'm afraid. If you ask, I'm sure he'll fill you in. Hold up." Armstrong saw Ed exit from the shower and stepped in to see if he was all right on his own.

I don't know why I can't be the one to help him when he's doing this well, Al grumbled inwardly. The Major was just standing by, holding out a towel, offering to dry his back. Of course it was primarily a ruse to stay close in case Ed had some sort of problem. If he had one of his episodes in the restroom it was vital to grab him and get him out, away from the hard tile floor, protruding metal fixtures and treacherous edges of countertops and commode. But Al felt he could handle that responsibility given half a chance.

He was half in the steamy doorway, not because he meant to be there, but because he moved there unconsciously as he tried keeping his objections to himself.

"Hey, Alphonse," Enfield said, reluctantly intervening. "Wait a minute, can you? Ed'll be out pretty quick. It'll be better if you give 'em enough room."

Al blushed, misunderstood and annoyed, but he stepped back. It was easier than trying to explain that he wasn't trying to get in to use the bathroom.

A slight commotion sent them both back to the doorway.

"Easy, there, lad. Are you sure you're not having trouble with your leg? I thought you were favoring it."

Ed gulped and made sure he was steady on his feet again before he let go of Armstrong's arm.

"No, it's this lame automail, that's all." He had no intention of admitting to any leg pain. They were always prodding and asking questions about it, and his sixth sense told him not to say a word. "Needs a new traction pad on the bottom or something."

He had to limp a few steps before his hip would cooperate, but he was certain they would chalk it up to the automail complaint.

"Let's sit you on the bed to finish up then," Armstrong tried to take over but Ed was having none of it.

"No, I can do this myself." Ed stubbornly persisted with the towel, trying for the minimum acceptable level of being dried off. He was tired of being hauled out into the room at the least sign of trouble; there was no reason why he couldn't finish getting dressed in here first. Okay, it was slippery, and the small bench was removed the last time he fell and hit his head on the corner of it, so there was no proper place to sit…

His hip gave him a sudden sharp pain and instead of stepping into his underwear he pitched over into Armstrong's quick save, the undergarment launching from the stretched elastic straight into the shower stall and the onto the wet floor.

"Damn it!"

"Edward, it's fine. Out we go."

"Shit. It wasn't my fault! I slipped…" Ed grumbled, tying on a towel as tight as he could get it so it wouldn't fall off.

"Of course." The Major tactfully declined to point out that Ed had been standing on his human foot on a cloth bath mat that didn't shift at all. It was obvious that Ed was trying to conceal the problem, unaware that everyone else knew more about it than he did.

Ed blushed, irritated that it still embarrassed him to be half-naked in front of these people who had seen his body so often that they could probably identify his private parts in a line-up. That horrible feeling of shame and vulnerability was amplified by the shadow of the memories of his captivity, but it wasn't justified at all to feel that way here. No one cared to look at his body except to help him take care of it. He could even tell that they made a concerted effort to look the other way if couldn't suppress the tell-tale blush.

The Major threw another towel over his shoulders before guiding him out.

"You can use the head now, Al," Enfield said helpfully. Al ignored him, dogging Armstrong's heels

Ed caught the less-familiar voice and shook free of his self-consciousness for a new state of alert.

"Havoc left already?"

They hadn't expected that Ed would be so shocked. When they warned him earlier of the day's events, he seemed unconcerned.

"Yeah, buddy, but he'll be back in just a couple of hours."

"Oh." Troubled, Ed sat on his bed with the Major's guidance, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them distractedly. The process of getting dressed was put on hold while he walked his mind through the concept of Havoc leaving with the Colonel. It bothered him. They said it was nothing, but he didn't think that was true. The last time he really remembered something like that…they were gone for a long time and left him alone with Fuery. Back before he saw Al again. He couldn't really remember the details but he remembered how worried he was about it and how bad it made him feel. "Oh."

"Ed, he just needed a little time off. Look, this is perfect timing, let me get out the kit and I'll work on you for a while, okay? You know it makes the time fly by," Al urged.

"'kay."

"Great!" Al grinned, quick to go for the supply tote. It was a little disconcerting, having Havoc gone, and this was just the thing to take his mind off of it. Ed's, too.

Engrossed in their ritual, Enfield and Armstrong's presence faded into the background.

xxxxxx

"We just tested these devices, Lieutenant. They're working almost perfectly. Are you sure about this?" Fuery asked, adjusting his glasses with a tap to the nosepiece.

Hawkeye nodded curtly, watching the second hand sweep the face of the clock and counting down in her mind: five…four…three…

"Present and accounted for," Breda saluted as he appeared precisely on time. "Do we get a briefing on this, or what?"

"I told you, we're just running the communication test in the field. Ready?"

"Not to be a stickler, but I don't see the Colonel's initials on this anywhere."

"It's fine. He's out, so it can't be helped," she said tersely.

"Out where?" Breda asked, suspicion slowing his words. "Or have I guessed already?"

"He's with Lt. Havoc to meet with Havoc's lady friend. It may be that they just, coincidentally, made the arrangements by phone, and that phone just might be located right near the area where we need to perform this test."

"What is he thinking?" Breda shook his head. They hadn't seen much, but his research was beginning to show some disturbing patterns of activity, and while he still had nothing conclusive, the zone they were investigating kept coming up as a prime area of interest.

"It doesn't matter. This way, we'll be there to watch their backs."

"Hold up, Lieutenant. The Colonel plays things pretty close to the vest. We might not be the only team he has working on this, and maybe we're 'not invited' on purpose. Showing up might look suspicious, if he's trying to do a double-blind. And even if he's not, there's a reason we weren't in the plan for this. We could blow up some covert op and endanger everyone."

"I have a good idea where they're meeting Havoc's lady friend. I've checked, there's no one else slated to be off base except the two of them. Havoc's in street clothes and he won't have more than a pistol on him; he's not taking any rifles. In theory there won't be any trouble at all and we'll just be testing equipment. But if I know the Colonel, he's itching to do his own snooping around, and if he stirs up the nest, I intend to be close enough to do something about it. You're not aware of a second team, and I don't think there is one. With out us, there's no backup. What does your gut tell you?"

"That you're right," Breda conceded.

"Then pack up and let's move out on the double. They've got a ten minute lead on us already," Riza frowned, checking her wristwatch to confirm her estimate.

"The Colonel's in street too?" Breda asked.

"No. He wore blues."

"That should make it easier," Fuery smiled, headset gripped in the opposite hand from the transmitter as he broke into a trot to keep up.

xxxxxx

"Go on, Havoc. You'll be late. I'll catch up."

"No, sir," Havoc shushed, bumping shoulders to get close. "If you're dead set on going in there, I'm going too. Lieutenant Hawkeye told me she'd kill me if I let anything bad happen."

"I heard her. She meant with your date, Havoc. Your date."

"That's not how I took it."

"It's just an old building. I'm curious about the way the door looks, that's all. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for it, but I'd like to check it out. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"I noticed it, too," Havoc said seriously, brushing off the attempt to send him away. "It's been purposely distressed. It just looks abandoned. But the brass on that handle tells me otherwise. No one goes to that much trouble to hide their presence unless they've got a damned good reason."

Shiny yet slightly oily from constant use, the door handle spoke volumes.

"All right, then. This looks like the front door. Let's try the back."

The back was on the alley, loaded with stinking trash ripe with the smell of rotten meat.

"This has been here a long time. Covering up some other tell-tale odor, I wonder?" Mustang whispered. You could hide dead bodies and not get a smell much worse than this.

"Wonder why the other businesses haven't complained."

"Almost all of them are empty. Don't see any recent 'going out of business' or 'we've moved' signs. Guess this area has been down and out for a long time. Come on, I want a closer look at the loading dock."

It looked like the huge roll-up door, rusting and flecked with graffiti and unidentifiable splatters of filth, was just like the front door. Contrary to its general appearance, the tracks were in good condition and the pull-chain was cleaned by recent, repeated use.

"None of the windows are broken. They all have paper covering them on the inside."

"No peeking. Well, I guess I'll just have to get in and take a look around."

"Colonel, I think that's breaking and entering. Are you sure about this? Let's knock and see what they say. We can always come back later to investigate."

"I'm not breaking anything. Last chance to be on time for your date, Havoc; I really think you should go. But if you're not, then come with me. I'm not giving up on this yet." Mustang led the skeptical marksman around the corner and checked the street. No one was in sight. He went down past the suspect building and used a skeleton key in the next door. It swung wide and they dodged in, ready for anything.

It was empty, just as Mustang had suspected. The only property with a suspicious occupant was the one next door. The rest were truly and officially vacant, and as such, he had the right to enter and check to make sure they were secured and undamaged.

The smell had permeated a bit, but otherwise, it seemed to be fine.

With the door quietly latched, the interior was a mix of pitch-black and blinding shafts of sunlight, dust dancing in the glare.

Mustang pointed up, nearly whispering. "Shared attics. There should be an interior access somewhere here. The place next door might be more interesting."

Havoc shook his head, frowning. This was not the kind of plan to be executing on the seat-of-your-pants. This was how people ended up dead.

"I just need to listen and see what I can see. A little information gathering. That's all."

"Did you plan this? Stupid question, I'm guessing."

"Eh…I did do a some research. Just public records. A little call tracing."

Havoc groaned inwardly. The Colonel had set him up all right…but not to steal his girl. He was being used as the Colonel's beard, to disguise his true motive for coming to this sector.

"Why haven't I seen anything about this in the surveillance reports? You're rogue on this, aren't you? Colonel, this is too dangerous and you're far too valuable to be taking this kind of risk."

"We're here. I'm getting a look up there. And I'd prefer that you run along so we don't stir up any suspicion, in case anyone is tracking our activities. I can make it an order."

"Great. And now I get court-martialed for insubordination. There's no way I'd let you…"

"Havoc," Mustang shushed. "Did you hear that? Stay close. We're not alone here."

They tried to fade back into the darkness and keep the light as a shield in front of them. Surely, they would see anyone coming before they could be seen.

Havoc couldn't believe his eyes when his date stepped into the shaft of light, as if she materialized from nowhere.

"Ah…this…this is crazy. Colonel, that's my friend. How did you get in here?"

"Gentlemen," the brunette purred. "Jean. Sweetie, you look positively pale. Such handsome specimens shouldn't be lurking in the shadows like cowardly little thieves." She extended long, gloved fingers, inviting her prey to surrender willingly into her arms. "You've kept me waiting forever, Jean. Come give me a kiss and a hug, and greet me with a little enthusiasm."

"Did you follow us in here? I'm sorry, we'd better go on out. This isn't really the time or place for us to meet," Havoc said. The coffeehouse was at least two city blocks away. How did she even know they would come this way? It didn't make sense.

"Is that any way to greet a lady after keeping her waiting for so long? You should give a little kiss to say hello. One little kiss. You owe, me remember? Is that so wrong?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that right now. What are you doing here in here, anyway? This is a restricted area. Did you really come here looking for me?"

"Yes, of course I was looking for you. You and your very unique Colonel," she purred.

"We spoke on the phone, but…do I know you?" Mustang asked, cocking his head to get a better view of her face in the odd light.

"No, of course not. But I know you, Flame Alchemist."

The hairs on the back of Mustang's neck stood on end. Something was very, very wrong with this situation. That look in her eyes scared the crap out of him.

He'd never, ever seen anything like those eyes in his entire life.