I'm ashamed to admit that I fell asleep. On watch waiting for salvation or death to find me, I fell asleep. In my defense, I was a bit battered and still trying to shove away the psychological issues that came with this whole shitty scenario. When I was startled awake it was by the hand on my shoulder and the voice in my ear, rather than the racket that must have been made to blow that door to bits. My hand automatically jerked to one of the transmutation circles beside me before someone caught my wrist. I stared at the hand for a second, still not fully aware, tracing it back to it's owner. Black hair, dark eyes, pale face, blue uniform, familiar. My brain telling me I knew this person but I couldn't really think for some reason. I could see his mouth moving, whoever he was, but I really couldn't be bothered to stay awake long enough to realize what it was he was saying. My befuddled and only half working brain provided that at least this person definitely wasn't an enemy. That was fine by me, they'd make a good pillow, then.

I think it startled him when I fell over on him, but I really didn't care, too damn tired to be worry about what mystery familiar person thought. I registered that I was moving, a strange parallel to when I arrived here, getting the same snatches of scenery only in reverse. It was disconcerting and had me twitching to get away. But the moment I started thrashing there was sound again, and I registered a voice, I remembered that, too. Several of the ones I heard were familiar, in fact. A good familiar. So I went limp. I'd been fighting for too long anyway. I felt like I'd never stop being tired. Apparently, my impression of a limp noodle wasn't appreciated because the familiar voices promptly flipped the fuck out.

Waking up again I was much more aware, my thoughts were clearer. But that period of time when they were muggy was distorted, even in playback. There was corruption in my mind palace for the first time, and I wanted to know how the hell that was possible. It was frightening that the one thing that had defined me for my entire life had a weakness. Whatever that was I needed to find out and avoid at all costs. Unless I could selectively choose which memories to blur out, in that case all of my middle school years needed to go, like, now.

Moving my arms was a bad idea, I knew, because they can't have been healed completely, but I did so anyway, dragging my hands into view. The scars were still visible, jagged and thicker than I remembered them being. The range of movement was also different, someone had been fucking with them. I didn't like it. Whoever it was had neglected to keep in mind the catch in my joints and now when I moved certain ways nerves pinched in an agonizing fashion. I was going to have to re-do it anyway. I pushed myself up, leaning against the back of the bed once I made it into a sitting position, examining the room with mistrust.

It was a hospital room, a normal one, but not one I had been in before personally. The flooring tile and paint on the wall pointed to this being the military hospital in Central, but I couldn't be certain. I could have slipped all the further into my mind palace when things took a turn.

Did I ever really escape?

Was I free or did I create somewhere familiar using pieces of something I had seen before in order to delude myself into thinking I was free?

Was I dead?

That was a possibility, maybe. If I died then there would be no telling where I would end up, I wasn't from this dimension so would my soul still be processed as energy, or would I end up nowhere, just...adrift? If I was adrift then I would sink into myself and pretend death never happened, that would be just like me, avoid the problem because I can't deal with it.

Once I had managed to thoroughly freak myself out with all of that theorizing the door swung open, Jean walking through. I stared at him like a deer in headlights for a second, trying to determine if it was real, or if I was just delusional. Jean was pale, staring at me, mouth gaping open. He stuck his head out and yelled for a nurse, why would he do that? There's nothing wrong with me, is there? True, I'm breathing a little hard and freaking out just a little bit but, but-oh. The nurse strapped on something over my face and I could breath easier, but then she was fiddling with the IV and Jean was fading away. I felt a flash of panic, not wanting to be alone, not wanting to be in the dark again. Flailing got me nothing but restrained, the nurse strapping me down, while Jean was turned to talk to someone just outside of the door. THAT did not go over well with me. I made a noise somewhere between dying cow and constipated chipmunk, drawing Jean's attention again. He snapped at the nurse, who from the looks of things was refusing to let me go. Isn't it sort of a wide known thing, don't strap down a victim shortly after they wake up somewhere unfamiliar? I was freaking the fuck out, and things were getting worse, the darkness closing in faster, drugs going to town on my system. But then the door opened wider and Roy was there, growling at nurses, looking like fury personified. Armstrong was at his heels, looking distinctly worn and sad, unusual for him.

But seeing Roy cleared things up. Yes, I was safe. I remembered now, it was clearer. The sight of him here was enough to trigger the sight of him in that room, wherever the hell I had decided to hide. The restraints were loosening and my arms flailed a bit, fingers spasming, and I knew my face must be a real sight, screwed up from pain. Roy was barking orders and I was seeing spots. When he turned, taking a step away I didn't register that I'd really moved but I caught his sleeve in my fingers, grip week, and almost impossibly painful to keep in place. I don't know what he was going to say to that, but I was already out.

Waking up the next time was much less eventful. My mind was in a better place, things weren't as scattered as before. I was by no means mentally sound, but at least I knew I wasn't dead or hallucinating. I must have twitched a bit before I opened my eyes because a small head was right near my face when I woke up. If I hadn't known they would be there because of the child-like energy radiating off of them then I might have been more than a little freaked out. But the sight of Elicia, pigtails immaculate, face scrunched up in worry, was a slightly more refreshing sight to wake up to than restraints and yelling military officers. My throat was parched but I managed to crack a small smile and manage a weak, "Hi."

Elicia was not impressed. She downright pouted, pointing at me almost viciously, "You left us! Mommy said you were gone! She said you had left us like daddy and that you weren't coming back either! Don't do that again!"

Oh, that hurt a bit. I winced at the implications, both that I had been gone long enough for Elicia to notice and be told about it, and that she was more affected by her fathers' 'death' than she had let on. We thought she was through most of the classic stages of grief, but apparently, she has attachment issues now. It would make sense that I would be associated with Maes in her mind, the only time I ever visited before was when he dragged me along. It must have only rubbed it in that he was gone when I started showing up on my own. To think that she had thought I had left her the same way…

I grimaced, petting her hair gently with clumsy fingers, trying to ignore the delay in reaction time, and the slight trembling. "I'm sorry about that. I tried to come back, I really did."

Her eyes were shining with tears now, and I looked around desperately for her mother, anyone really, who could stop the waterworks. "I thought you weren't coming back!"

I sighed, giving in and patting the bed beside me, dragging myself up into a sitting position once again. When she clambered up onto the bed I pulled her close to me, ignoring the twinges of 'hell no' that my body sent me. "Sorry Elysia."

A hug and an apology and all was well again, I was forgiven. She gave me a bottle of water that had been on the bedside table and I didn't bother to wonder at its origins. She then told me everything I had missed that she knew about, and that I had been gone for 'forever'. Apparently her mom had left to get something, or someone, but Elicia had been told to keep me company and to be quiet as a mouse. I was telling her she made a wonderful mouse when the door swung open, revealing an exhausted looking Gracia and a rumpled looking Jean, both clutching a cup of coffee for dear life. They froze when they saw us, Elicia waved cheerily, "Look! She's awake!"

I grinned, "Oh, none for me then? That's fine I suppose. What do I have to do to get a soda in this place?"

Gracia stumbled forwards, relief on her face, looking like she wanted to grab me but thought better of it. "Stephanie! We thought-the doctors said…"

I snorted, giving a strained half smile. "There's only one doctor I've ever felt worth listening too, and he's not from Amestris, that's for sure." Wait, more than one. The Doctor, Doctor McCoy, Doctor Strange...

Gracia sank into the chair by the bed, running shaking hands through my hair, the only part of me that was safe to touch, most likely. Now that I thought about it, she had probably been the one to brush it in the first place. It didn't look like it had a life of its own anymore. Jean walked forwards slowly, eyeing me carefully as if I would disappear at any second.

"How are you feeling?"

I raised an eyebrow, "The words I want to use cannot be said in front of children, Jean. But I'm alive. That's the most I had really hoped for."

He nodded, circling around to the mess of machinery and the call button. "We should have a nurse look over you-"

"No."

He jerked his head up to look at me, raising an eyebrow at my scowl.

"Why not? Steph, you need to be examined, they weren't sure you would wake up at all! The doctor who those guys had said that you often slipped into a coma-like state that was near impossible to rouse you from!"

I shifted uncomfortably, "Not a coma. More...meditative technique, really."

He scoffed but I continued, "And the last time you called a nurse in she sedated and restrained me. Not fun times."

"You remember that?"

I must be losing my touch because the doctor in the doorway scared the living shit out of me. I hadn't felt him coming through the dragons' pulse. While I clutched my heart in an effort to keep it in my chest I warily checked to make sure he was human. Skinny, thinning hair, white coat, weird ass glasses, but human. That verified, I nodded,

"Yeah, I was thinking the clearest I had in a while but I was still a bit...delusional."

I grinned sheepishly before glancing at Jean.

"I wasn't sure if I was imagining you or not, but then R-Mustang came in, and it triggered what I could recall of being taken out of...wherever that was."

The doctor stepped forward towards me, letting Gracia bow out politely with Elicia in tow with well wishes and promises of food in the future. Once they were gone he pulled out a pen light and started a general check up. When he was finished he looked slightly baffled.

"You're...fine. I was expecting more damage, but you're mental functions seem to be perfectly fine, the same as always. Are you experiencing any sort of pain? No weird twinges?"

I eyed him, then looked down.

"...were you the one who worked on my fingers?"

Jean's drowning porpoise noise (that's a thing, don't question me) reminded me of his presence. He looked pained, pointedly not looking at me when the doctor answered.

"No, that was a different specialist. Why, is there a problem? We can see to another operation to fix any issues within a month-"

"No."

"There are no issues?"

"There are a shit ton of issues, buddy, but I was planning on fixing things again myself if I ever got out to do it properly. It was only meant to be a patch job, but your guy messed with shit he didn't know about. I have a joint condition that he's twisted nerves into knots around. Again, not fun."

He looked stunned,

"Patch job? The surgeon said that you had broken the knuckles strangely, likely doing something stupid and miscalculated, though he said that that judging from the angles it was most likely that you had done it yourself in some psychotic fit that related to waking from the comas, which is why we should keep you sedated."

Oh, hell hath no fury like a woman accused of psychosis. That guy is probably in the Fuhrers pocket. But there are some things you just don't want to talk about, especially not in front of your big brother figure. I pushed down more thoughts about the Fuhrer, wondering if I was safe here, wondering if they wouldn't just smother me in my sleep with a pillow. They hadn't done it yet, and Jean was here, and Roy was around somewhere, I was safe enough. So I averted my eyes to the door, where I could sense a life sign approaching.

"I don't want to talk about it."

In the ensuing silence a knock sounded at the door Gracia had closed behind her, swinging open gently to admit Riza, whose expression went from harried to complete surprise. I nodded to her with a smile.

"Hey Riza, how're things?" She stared for another second before stalking forward and pulling me into a gentle hug. The pain was worth it, really. I hadn't had a hug from someone bigger than me since Taylor and it made me feel safe for once, protected (Armstrong doesn't freaking count, that's the kind of hug you're supposed to get from an anaconda). I hadn't realized how much I needed one until that moment.

When she pulled back she was scowling slightly,

"Don't ever worry us like that again." Then she turned to Jean, face serious.

"Have you called Roy? Or her short blonde friend?"

He looked conflicted until she jerked her head to the door,

"You go tell everyone, make the calls from her apartment like usual. I'll keep her company, she won't disappear while you're gone."

He looked at her blankly for a long second before nodding, turning to me.

"I'm glad you're back, Steph."

There was more he wanted to say, it was written all over his face. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut and left the room, closing the door behind him. The moment he was gone Riza turned to the doctor, glare already in place.

"Was there something you needed?"

I don't know if it was the expression, the way her hand twitched towards her gun, or a combination of both that sent him scurrying. Once he was gone she sat in the chair by the bed, eyes pinning me in place, head tilted to the side. Finally, she sighed, closing her eyes and slumping in her chair slightly, looking more defeated than I had ever seen her.

"You gave us quite the scare. Several times in fact. The moment Fuery realized something was wrong he called Roy. We still had to search for three days until we found the place. We overpowered the head of the faction and forced him to show us where he was holding you. He brought us to an empty cell…"

She paused, swallowing thickly and I tried to look at my cell from an outsiders' perspective. Blood, knives, chains, the discarded, soaked, and torn bandages. It must have looked like a murder scene, at the very least. Riza cleared her throat and continued, still staring straight ahead.

"When he noticed the cell was empty he asked around, wanting to know when his people had 'finished you off'...he is very lucky to still be alive to face trial. Some of his men stepped forward, saying that you had escaped. We had to destroy the door once we found it sealed. You were out of it, just like the doctor they had with them said you would be. He was a local doctor, brought in when you slipped into a coma instead of answering questions. He was very adamant that you were brain dead. A tumor of some sort. We took you to the closest hospital, where you spent roughly a week with little to no change. You were transported to Central, Gracia was astonished to discover you gave her power of attorney by the way. Touched, but very surprised. Another four days passed when you woke up for a bit, only to immediately be sedated by a nurse."

Riza's scowl showed exactly what she thought of that nurse, and I smirked slightly until she sobered and continued.

"We were told it was unlikely you would wake up again, because of how long you stayed out each time, and the way you had already been in a comatose state before hand. I'm...very glad to have you back. I don't have many friends, really. Mostly comrades in arms. But you were different, I suppose. Even if I doubted you and occasionally opposed you...you still were willing to make amends, no matter what I had said or done."

I was getting uncomfortable with this, and she was obviously feeling awkward too. The both of us were saved her having to continue when the door burst open, admitting a storm of sparkles and loud noise.

"My dear Stephanie! Lieutenant Havoc told us that you were well once again! This is most invigorating news!"

A slightly more sedate Roy Mustang followed Armstrong in, closing the door firmly behind him. They both walked to the bedside, Armstrong still waxing poetic about my 'miraculous recovery' while Roy just examined me, expression blank. Had I done something wrong? Eventually, Roy held a hand up, stopping Armstrongs' spiel. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sighing and opening them once more.

"Report, Lieutenant."

Riza was giving him a scowl that would make a grizzly bear nervous and Armstrong was also eyeing him slightly for the blunt treatment. I sat up as straight as I could to give the report, eyes going to the blanket covering my legs. How much of the truth do I tell? Would they even believe half of it? I still couldn't believe I had managed to get all of my fingers working well enough to escape. True they weren't perfect by any means, but still...And then there was the way I had used my mind palace as a torture resistance technique. Do I explain it? Can I explain it? Would they feel wronged that I had kept it from them even after they told me everything and came clean? Or would they not believe that either? And how could I face them after revealing it was my own fault, that this had happened because I was an idiot and meddled where I shouldn't have? Because I wasn't smart enough to evade detection?

"Lieutenant."

I looked up at him, still unsure. What do I tell them?