DISCLAIMER: I don't own FMA. If only, if only. I only own my own OCs and this plotline.

Thirty-Seven

Delilah stumbled into the bedroom after May; her eyes drooped, and weariness caused her muscles to twitch a little as she kept herself awake. She had managed to slip into a light doze the night before, since her exhaustion was so great, but her dreams had been dark and disorienting and had woken her up. All she wanted was to sleep, even though she wouldn't be able to if she tried, but time nipped at the group's heels.

May opened the closet door and frowned sadly at the dresses, skirts, and blouses that hung within. "These are all so pretty."

Delilah sighed. "I know." She thought of the girl in the photos on the walls and how she wore colorful clothes in every one. And now they were here to take some of those.

Despite May's sad temperament toward the clothes, she chose some garments of the brightest pink. Her face lit up a little as she picked the blouses, and Delilah could understand why: holding beautiful clothes and being able to keep them when one was poor was a dream among dreams. As guilty as Delilah felt to take things that weren't hers, things that were important to another person, she felt envious of the unknown girl and felt a twinge of satisfaction when she touched some of the dresses. The emotion was a little odd to her—last night, she'd hardly wanted to eat food that wasn't hers, but now that self-shame and guilt was muted, or at least ignorable.

Maybe it was because she felt too tired to care that much anymore.

"She even has hats," May said, reaching up to pull a sunhat off the wall rack where several hats hung. She put one on over her black braids and trotted over to the mirror. The hat had obviously been made at least somewhat expensively; the straw looked fine, and it had been formed with care.

"…I had a hat a little like that," Delilah said quietly. "I lost it." She hadn't even realized it, but her had had been gone for a while now. She remembered wearing it on the way to her mother's apartment, but she couldn't recall if she had left it on the table or if she had lost it in the rain. She had been too distressed and preoccupied to notice. She suddenly missed having it on her head.

May admired her reflection for a moment more before putting the hat back. She returned to the closet, and together the girls pulled out more clothes and laid them on the bed. They inspected their choices, and then set about transmuting the fabrics for size. They had already transmuted the blankets they had used the night before into coats, but they still needed layers.

Delilah's white dress had been made for the warm Eastern summers, so—while May wasn't looking—she removed the garment and transmuted it into a pair of pants to put underneath a rather pretty, long-sleeved beige dress of wool that descended to just past her knees. She didn't like how heavy it felt or how it restricted her arms a little, and she felt a little like she was pretending to be a grown up, but she knew that it would have to do for going north. All she needed now were boots of some sort, but Marcoh had pledged to find the materials for those.

"Do you think we should take hats?" May asked, looking once again toward the hats handing on the wall. Most were wide-brimmed, just asking to be blown away by the wind, but a few were made of wool and designed for winter.

"It would be a good idea," Delilah said. She approached the hats and grabbed a white one. She tried it on, and it fit snuggly over her head and ears. She took it off for the time being.

May stared at the hats for another moment before slowly shaking her head. "I'll make a hood for my coat. I don't want to take anything else."

The words made Delilah feel a little guilty for having the hat, but some sort of selfishness kept her from putting it back. She deserved clothes to keep her warm, didn't she? Especially after all the hell she'd been through.

She pushed away the nagging, semi-subconscious thought that she didn't even deserve to be alive.

"Hey, May," she said, trying to distract herself, "did you say you were looking for something?"

The alkahestrist nodded, her eyes brightening with determination. "I'm looking for the secret of immortality! It's the only way to make sure my clan gets any sort of power after our emperor—may he live forever—passes away. I heard the Philosopher's Stone is what I'm looking for."

May's declaration seemed to pierce Delilah's heart. She was reminded all too much of another Xingese traveler, one that Ed had said still had to be alive, even if his body belonged to a homunculus now. She hadn't thought about the prince much—she hadn't wanted to, not when the thought of him being gone was painful, even if she hadn't bonded to him like she'd bonded to Ed and Al.

"You sound just like Ling," she said quietly.

The Chang girl immediately stiffened. "You mean that Yao scoundrel whose clan looks at us like bugs?!"

Delilah recoiled a little in surprise. "What?"

May scoffed. "Ling Yao and his whole clan think they're all that even though their clan isn't in high power. They're all rude and arrogant—" She went on a little more, slipping into her native tongue a couple times, and suddenly Delilah couldn't stand to hear anymore.

"Don't—don't talk about him like that," she said, struggling to keep herself from sounding harsh. "He…he might be…"

May paused. "You mean he's…?"

"M-maybe," Delilah managed to say. "Just…just stop talking about him. Please."

The alkahestrist frowned, seeming a little troubled, but didn't mention Ling again. "…I have to get the Philosopher's Stone," she said, returning to the original topic. "My clan is poor. As its princess, I need to gain favor with the emperor."

Delilah noticed the mention of royalty, and she remembered Ling explaining how the princes and princesses of all fifty clans were fathered by the emperor—so Ling and May were half-siblings. But bringing up Ling again wasn't something she wanted to do, so she blurted, "I want to find a Philosopher's Stone, too."

May blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"…Yeah." Delilah looked down at her feet for a moment. "I used to hate the mere idea of them when I found out what they were made of, but though I'd never make one, I need one. And…I figure using them for good rather than bad is the best thing."

"No one's told me what they're made from," May said. "Mr. Scar even said he didn't want me to get involved with them."

Delilah opened her mouth to respond, but froze.

"Are you okay?" May asked, noticing how tightly Delilah gripped the hat.

"Did you…say 'Scar'?"

"Yes." May frowned. "We're heading north to meet up with him. Is something—?"

Delilah spun on her heel and hurried from the room. "Doctor?!" she called. She rushed through the upper hallway, searching the rooms. "Doctor!"

"Delilah?" Marcoh, wide-eyed with panic, appeared at the top of the stairs. "What's wrong?"

The girl planted herself in the middle of the hallway. "We're going to Scar?"

Marcoh frowned nervously at her tone. "I thought I mentioned that back on the train."

She honestly couldn't remember if he had or not. Her head swam with fatigue, and her confusion about the murderer wasn't helping her. "You know he hurt Edward and Alphonse, right? That they were broken when we met them because of him."

The old man sighed. "Scar freed me, and he's a murderer because I experimented on his people to create the Stone. I'm in debt to him. We're heading north to collect his brother's research notes—his brother saw that something was wrong with Amestrian alchemy, and we're going to decipher his notes." He paused and tried to smile. "…Deciphering notes again, huh?"

She stared at him.

His face fell slowly.

She shook her head violently. "No." A red-hot rage built inside her, and she couldn't contain it. "No! This is your burden, not mine! I never made those things! I never hurt—!" She stopped short, then went on: "I never killed anyone! But you have, and Scar has, so I might as well just let you two be murderers together!"

Delilah stalked toward him, trying to pass him to get to the stairs, but he grabbed her arm. "Delilah, you're hurt and tired. This isn't like you."

"How do you know that? It's been months!" She roughly pulled her arm out of his grip, then stilled. "…He scares me," she admitted. "You scare me."

Marcoh froze.

"That's it."

The two paused and turned back to the hallway, where May stood. The little girl marched up to them and grabbed Delilah's hand to pull her down the stairs. Delilah, stunned, followed without resistance. May tugged her into the living room and stood her in front of the couch.

Then, with two fingers outstretched, May jabbed at Delilah.

A jolt coursed through the older girl's body; she dropped the white hat onto the floor, and her knees gave out—just about all of her muscles gave out. She collapsed onto the couch, too shocked to even mutter a sound.

Marcoh had followed them; May hurried and pushed him toward the chair before jabbing him, too. He fell into the chair, and May put her hands on her hips.

"You two are going to sit and talk about this—I will chi-block you again if I have to. I'll leave for now to see where we are and where we need to go, but if you two haven't made up by the time I get back, I swear—" She slipped into her native tongue again, but still managed to sound intimidating. She gave the both of them a warning glare, then disappeared into the hallway. The sound of a door opening and closing signaled her departure.

Delilah and Marcoh were left alone.

She tried to stand—she truly, honestly tried, but her arms and legs only twitched. She frowned in frustration and doubled her efforts, but her efforts only yielded the same results.

"It's no use, Delilah," Marcoh said. "It must be some sort of Xingese trick. I assume it'll wear off in a while."

His words irritated her. She wanted to get out of the damn house and get to the damn train station and find a damn telephone. She had to get back to Central. She'd walk back to Ed and Al if that was what it would take.

"…Delilah?" Marcoh said hesitantly when she didn't speak.

Her anger suddenly melted to fuel her other emotions, and the loss of rage made her feel small, made her sound small. "…I-I'm scared."

"What?"

"…I'm so scared of Scar," she murmured. "I've never even seen him, but I'm so afraid of him. Like I'm afraid of Envy and Gluttony and…and that man underneath Central… And I'm scared of you because I don't understand you anymore." She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself. "I only… I only feel safe around Alphonse and Edward and Winry and everyone and…I'm so scared without them. I'm even scared of myself—I'm so, so scared of myself. I thought I-I was okay for a little while, b-but I…"

She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. "I'm so scared of everything," she whispered. "And I hate myself for it."

Neither spoke for several moments.

"Well," Marcoh said with a sigh, "there's something we have in common."

She frowned and furrowed her brow. "What?"

He nodded. "…I've found that there's always some reason to be scared. It's only natural. But that shouldn't stop us from doing what we want or have to do." He sighed. "I wish I could say that I've stuck to that rule, but I'm a coward. Not because I'm scared, but because I let my fears control me."

Delilah closed her eyes. "…I hurt someone, too."

"You?" Marcoh sounded surprised.

She nodded. She opened her mouth, but didn't speak. Couldn't.

Marcoh noticed her reluctance, and after a moment he began to speak. He started describing his time in Ishval during the war—he skipped over most of the carnage, but it was easy for Delilah to imagine. He talked about taking Ishvalans back to the fifth laboratory in Central and using them to make Stones, about how the faces of innocent men and women would flash in his mind in every single thought and nightmare, images that spurred him to hide his research and run. Images that haunted him no matter how far or how fast he went.

"It doesn't go away," he murmured. "Helping others with the Stone stopped some dreams, but not all." A small smile tugged at his lips. "Most of them went away when we worked together, though."

A small ray of happy memories—memories of simpler times—broke through the dreary atmosphere. Delilah smiled a little, too. "We didn't 'work together.' You were my father."

"…I suppose I was," he agreed. "…I still see you as a daughter."

She looked down. Her throat felt swollen.

His expression turned sad once more. "I'm sorry for keeping everything from you."

"…I would've done the same." She paused. "I…I did something terrible, and I tried to keep it from everyone, too."

"Keeping it secret doesn't help," Marcoh said. "Trust me."

Delilah took a deep breath and spoke toward her lap. "It was complete coincidence, but…I found my mother. She told me, um…that my father was her brother." Her face burned with shame and humiliation. "He raped her sometime before he went to fight in Ishval. He died."

Marcoh didn't gasp. He didn't recoil or look disgusted. He only looked sad and concerned. "What did you do?"

"…I pushed her. I don't…I don't think she'll wake up until I can get a Philosopher's Stone." A thought occurred to her, and she looked up sharply. "Don't you have one?"

He was already shaking his head. "The homunculi took mine. I'm sorry."

"…It's fine," she said, even though it wasn't.

"…It's such a goddamn awful thing," Marcoh muttered. "What any person can do to another person."

She could only nod.

"I suppose that's why there are doctors," he said, and the way he said it lifted her spirits, if only just a little. "But Delilah…," he went on, "I'm sorry, but we need to help Scar. I promise he won't hurt you—he doesn't want to hurt innocent people. You can see it. May's been with him for a lot longer than I have, and she's fine."

"Don't make him sound like a good person, because he isn't," she said sternly, quietly. "…He did that to your face, didn't he?"

Marcoh's scarred and saggy skin shifted as he frowned and reluctantly nodded. "My face was recognizable."

Delilah opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment, a loud slam came from the hallway, and May burst into the room; Shao May was clinging to one of her braids for dear life.

May panted and waved her arms with panic. "The family's home!"

Both Delilah and Marcoh furrowed their brows.

The alkahestrist's eyes widened, and she shook her arms with more frenzy. "I just saw them at the train station! You know—the people that live here?!"

That certainly made the two alchemists panic.

Delilah managed to surge to her feet, but when she took just one step, she collapsed onto the floor. She managed to break her fall with her arms, but her chin smacked against the wood floor, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

"Ahh! A-are you okay?!" May scurried to her side. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Your muscles still aren't working!" She rushed to draw a circle on the floor.

Delilah couldn't reply for a moment; she was too dazed. "I-I think I'm fine…" She tried to move her legs, but they wouldn't respond quickly or accurately. She belatedly realized that she had lied.

May activated the circle, and Delilah could feel some sort of energy jolt through her muscles. When the light from the transmutation faded, she hurried to her feet.

"Help me get Dr. Marcoh next to the circle," May urged, and the two girls grasped Marcoh's arms and pulled him to his feet. He could shuffle well enough, but they had to just about shove him to the circle. May used her alchemy, and a moment later he was shaking his limbs, getting used to moving them again.

"We need to get moving—we don't have time to cover our tracks," he said. He hurried to the couch a grabbed a backpack that he'd transmuted earlier; it contained very little, only a few food items, but when he lifted it, Delilah could hear the jangle of metal on metal.

"Do you have cens in there?" she asked.

He grimaced. "People always hide money behind the toilet."

She was about to say something—she wasn't quite sure what—but May tugged on their arms. "We have to go out the back door. I don't know when they're going to get here."

The trio rushed to put on the coats they'd left on the couch; Delilah hurried to grab the hat that she'd dropped, but she thought of the money Marcoh had taken and the clothes they'd taken, and she hesitated. She left it on the floor.

She wondered if she'd always been so selfish.

May grabbed her arm again and dragged her into the hallway, rushing to open the back door; Marcoh followed and closed it behind them. Being out in the daylight made Delilah feel vulnerable, even if there was no one around to see them. May tensed, obviously feeling the same, and glanced around before leading the way along the edge of the house.

"It'll look suspicious if we get caught cutting through backyards," May said quietly. "This is a really quiet street, so we should be fine if we get to the sidewalk and head to the station."

They reached the front edge of the house, and May peered around before hurrying across the front lawn to the sidewalk. Marcoh and Delilah followed quickly, and when they came to the edge of the road, they all slowed considerably and stood up extra straightly. Delilah imagined that they looked about as casual as Ed would in the same circumstance—that is, they probably looked suspicious as hell.

"So where are we?" Marcoh asked quietly.

"It's a town called Awrosut," May said. She kept an eye on the road. "It's in the East Area. The trains only go into Central and to East City. Our best option for heading north is to get on a train to East City and then head north all the way into some place called Egmurdicu; it's nearest to the mountains where Mr. Scar said he hid his notes."

Marcoh nodded. "I don't know how far we'll get with the money we have, but hopefully it shouldn't be too hard to catch a ride."

A faint rumbling caught Delilah's attention, and she looked to see a taxi driving down the road. She watched it, trying not to stare openly, and when it passed by, she almost flinched.

"It's those people," she said, glancing downward. The girl in the car had been laughing.

"Let's hurry," Marcoh said, and the group increased their pace. The station was in sight—it wasn't far away from the house they'd rested in—but time seemed to hold them in an icy grip; it almost felt like they were walking in place.

"So we're paying for tickets?" May whispered.

Marcoh nodded. "They'll be looking for people trying to catch rides after those people see we were there."

"Dr. Marcoh," May said hesitantly, "if you pay for the tickets, they'll definitely remember your face."

The old man put a hand to his cheek and frowned. "And they'll remember yours." He looked to Delilah. "Can you buy them?"

Her face wasn't old or scarred or that of a foreigner; she would be just another traveler buying tickets. She felt a little nervous at the thought of talking to an unassuming person, since she was technically a fugitive now, traveling with people trying to aid a mass murderer, but she found herself nodding.

While they walked, Marcoh took off his backpack and reached in, pulling out a wad of bills. "Three for East City," he said, as if she didn't already know.

She accepted the money, and at this point they came to the front door of the station. Delilah tensed as they entered; there weren't a whole lot of people, but being in the midst of all the hustle made her more nervous. May tapped her arm and pointed out where the ticket booth stood, and Delilah took a deep breath before heading over.

The salesperson couldn't have been that much older than Ed; he looked rather bored, even though he had a book lain out in front of him. He looked up with slightly glazed eyes as Delilah came up. "Where're you goin'?"

Delilah looked to the sign next to the ticket booth; it showed the prices for children and adult tickets to both East City and Central City. It would only cost her a few cens more to go west.

"What am I doing?" she muttered to herself.

"Miss?" the boy asked, looking just a bit impatient.

"I need three tickets for East City," she said at last. "Please."

a/n: I miss Alphonse. *sinks into despair*

I know it's a lot of talk right now, but stick with me. I've been spending my spare time plotting out the details of the rest of the fic (and I'm not done with that yet), and I think I've come to the conclusion that I'm not even half done with this story yet. And oh my gosh - in about a month, this fic'll have it's one year anniversary. I'm planning on changing the cover of this fic sometime soon, because I've commissioned one of my friends to draw Delphonse for me (it'll be six bucks well spent; she's amazing and I'm going to freaking hang it on my wall I swear to god).

Summer starts for me in a few days, but I have to earn money and do AP work for three classes, but I'll work on this whenever possible! Thanks for sticking around, guys. *showers everyone with hugs and sparkles and happy things*