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.

37. Chapter 37

It struck her as a crying shame. Here she had them all to herself, isolated, with absolutely no one to interfere with her manipulations. What a memorable three-way she could have commanded from these weak-willed, virile, drop-dead handsome mortals! The temptation was acute, almost too much for her basic, feral nature to resist.

She strolled up to the sandy-haired stud and gave him a long, slow kiss on the cheek, making sure her ample bosom 'accidentally' pressed against his body. His sudden animal awareness of her touch was childishly obvious, and it flushed her loins with powerful, sadistic desire.

He would be a perfect victim, the kind of man who only loses his boorish self-consciousness completely in the final throes of passion. She loved to watch the facial expressions when they reached the point of no return and braced for sexual climax, only to suddenly realize that something had gone terribly wrong. The shock of dismemberment, coitus interruptus in the extreme, gave them the first taste of their inevitable agonizing death. The moment or two when the pain and the pleasure were mixed truly thrilled her, when fear lagged a few heartbeats behind, stalled in the grip of the powerful lust she instilled in her victims.

Imagining Havoc's blue eyes, wide with horror, body thrusting pointlessly one or two final times as the reality set in…the long, tight dress suddenly felt much too warm.

"Um…" Havoc blushed, taking a step back, cursing himself for being confused and embarrassed. She had him at a disadvantage, visually stunning with her ample breasts swelling up nearly right out of the top of her skin-tight black dress. She made him feel socially awkward as a man, just as much now as she had the first time they'd met.

As a soldier he saw her as disturbingly out of place in a potentially dangerous setting; he couldn't decide immediately if her presence here felt so wrong in part because of his emotions, or if it truly was dangerously suspicious to find her here.

"Don't run away, handsome," she purred in amusement.

His dismay was such a teaser. If only he had half a clue of what she had in mind for him. But neither he nor his handsome boss seemed to have anything to say.

"I think you must have noticed that we're all alone here. This is a golden opportunity for the three of us to get to know each other intimately. Don't you boys like to have fun?"

Havoc blushed harder, mind racing. This was some fetish about abandoned public places or something, some off-beat form of seduction? How embarrassing to have Mustang witness another of his potential girlfriends turn out to be a weirdo, and having her come on to them both to boot! He'd never live this down.

It wasn't fun that Mustang saw in her narrowed, dark eyes. His sixth sense was screaming. The pouting, flirtatious smile couldn't disguise an inner soul writhing with a cold, inhuman aggression. The force of it was so powerful it nearly overwhelmed his finely-tuned powers of perception.

"Stop right there, madam. Havoc! Step back from her immediately. That's an order!"

Havoc didn't need to be told twice. He stepped well back, not sure what the Colonel saw that he didn't, but grateful for confirmation that his uneasiness was justified. The sidearm called to him from the calf holster, but he dismissed the urge to draw down on his date without provocation. He was ready and in a better position to pull it, if need be. He scanned the room, squinting to try and detect any movement that would indicate an accomplice, but there was nothing to see. It was totally confusing, and he almost wished that she'd whip out a weapon, just to give him an excuse to do the same.

Lust stuck out her lower lip in an indignant sulk.

"You can't be serious. What kind of reaction is this? What - are you big, strapping men worried about little old me?"

"Sorry, Solaris, this is just not a good place to be. You still haven't explained why you're in here."

"I give you an invitation and you just expect an explanation? I need to teach you both some manners, I'm afraid. You still haven't given me a proper greeting at all, Jean. And it's not polite to bark orders at a lady, Colonel. Well, unless she's one of your military bitches. But I think it's obvious I'm no one's subordinate; and those hideous uniforms really wouldn't suit my style."

"I'd be happy to let you lecture us once we're outside, madam. We shouldn't be in here. Let's go on out," Mustang said, moving sideways in the direction of the door. He would not risk turning his back on them.

Come on, Havoc, keep coming. Let's draw her out into the open. This doesn't feel right at all.

The dark-gloved hands gripped Havoc's well-muscled bicep, forcing him to stop unless he wanted to try to drag her along. How she suddenly managed to get close enough to reach him, neither of them could explain.

"This is such a waste, Jean. Don't be like that."

"I'm going to have to ask you to let go of him," Mustang said tersely. "I'm not asking twice."

"Are you still trying to give me orders? No. I won't. He's mine now." Using her free hand, she slipped a finger into the top of her dress and slid it down, dangerously close to freeing her breasts completely.

"What the…" Havoc began to question her petulant declaration of ownership, only to stop and shake his head to make sure that he was really seeing what was being revealed before him.

Lust laughed. That look on his face. Was it that he now had an inkling as to what fate had in store? Pulling down her dress just far enough to reveal the Ouroboros tattoo meant showing a lot of skin. Did they understand the symbol and realize that this was the end? Or was it just the vision of her perfect anatomy, stunning them momentarily, her raw sexuality leaving them like defenseless little aroused deer in headlights?

"That marking – it's an Ouroboros tattoo, isn't it?" Mustang said in shock. He'd never seen one outside the pages of a book, but that had to be it. The ancient symbol depicted a dragon eating its own tail in an endless circle, said to be a distinguishing mark on the flesh of a homunculus. "You're one of them!"

"Hmph. 'Them', you say? How tacky." The men had gone positively pale. The fun of adding to the distress was too good to resist. She slashed Havoc before he could retreat, raking down from his cheek to his chest with the hardened tips of her fingers. His stunned reaction brought a smirk to her lips.

"Havoc!" Mustang yelled, pivoting away from the door at the last second as it slammed shut without warning to cut off his exit. His eyes and brain struggled to agree on the events; incredibly long, solid tendrils extending from the end of the dark woman's hand retracted into ladylike fingers again.

Somehow, she had blocked his exit from halfway across the room with one hand. The woman was definitely one of the monsters; maybe even the monster of Edward's stories, shape-shifted into a female form. But that hand, stretching and behaving like nothing he'd ever seen before – that was beyond some chameleon-like power of changing appearance. What the hell was that?

Primed from years of battle experience, the men flew into action. Havoc lunged away to take position braced for attack. The Flame Alchemist's gloves snapped on as he planted his feet firmly, bracing for battle, his head lowered in grim readiness to perform his necessary evil.

"That kind of behavior won't do. You'll cut my playtime too short," Lust hissed. With a flick of her hand, a lengthened finger cracked like a whip high over Mustang's head, damaging an intersection of the fire sprinkler pipe suspended above. The system was still fully pressurized; water spurted noisily from the broken line in all directions.

Suddenly doused and disarmed, Mustang staggered back. It took him straight into a shaft of light streaming in from outside, worsening his predicament with momentarily blindness, and placing him in a position too far away from his subordinate.

The marksman quickly abandoned his move to draw his gun, launching into motion to dash for the cut-off valve instead. It was on the wall dangerously close to the dark-haired woman, but his tactician's mind instantly reasoned that the Colonel's alchemy was their greatest weapon in any situation, and they could not afford to have it disabled for long. He couldn't very well shoot her just for breaking a pipe, no matter how bizarre her actions.

"How the hell did you do that!?" Havoc sputtered, yanking the valve wheel until it shut off the flow, in a rush to finish to get a hand free to pull the concealed sidearm. "Why?"

"Perfect," she hissed, fingers lengthening until they were thin daggers nearly as long as she was tall. "I love that you've decided to get closer to me, Jean. Allow me to reach out and caress you, while your abomination of a Colonel bears witness. All wet, aren't you, Roy? So just watch me. There's nothing you can do about this now."

Her inhuman appendages recoiled before jetting out again, lancing Havoc's body in several places, running him through in a thick, red mist of spraying blood. When she retracted them again, it was to fold her arms and observe the victim, waiting for the grand entertainment of his death throes.

It happened so fast. Havoc stood frozen in shock for one horrible second before the injuries sucked away his ability to think or move, crimson flowing like small rivers from the vital midst of his torso. His mind failed to perceive that the fight was already over.

For a moment, instinctively pressing his hands to his torso to slow the sticky warmth, he thought he could still do something to fight back. He was distantly aware of the Colonel's voice, calling out his name in a timbre he had never heard. Deep inside he knew it was the sound of a man who had just witnessed a killshot. Still, he was on his feet. Sheer will had to count for something.

He broke free of the paralyzing shock just enough to try to take a step, a desperate attempt to ignore the evidence and move to defend his superior. Despite giving it his all, his limbs simply would not respond.

No! No…this can't be all that I can do. It can't end like this. I can't die without a fight!

Solaris was moving again, and every cell in his body screamed in panic at his inability to escape.

As if someone flipped a switch, the world went blank and he toppled instead, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Mustang launched to intercept her before she could run through the fallen body a second time. His fist was dodged, only managing to glance off her chin. She leapt back with the dexterity of a panther.

"What kind of man are you? Jean's bleeding to death before your very eyes, Roy-boy. Would you really rather play with me and do nothing to help him?"

Contrary to her taunts, he was already reaching for Havoc, taking advantage of her momentary retreat.

"Havoc! Stay with me!" Mustang swept a hand down the fallen man's twitching leg and managed to come up with the gun, aiming desperately. Everything took too much damned time, the safety was on and his grip was clumsy in the wet gloves. Havoc was still breathing, but a glace told him that at the rate the blood was saturating his clothes, that wasn't likely to continue for long.

As soon as she saw his attention shift to his subordinate's wounds, she struck again, this time using both hands at once. Twice as many deadly sharp flanges ripped through Mustang's body simultaneously. An involuntary muscle spasm sent a bullet into the rafters as the impalements were yanked back through and out.

"Missed me," she sneered, casually holding up hands glistening with gore. "Are you down on your knees begging for your life already? This isn't even a challenge worth my while."

The pain was incredible, but somewhat stabilized by landing on both knees, he gathered the self-control to level the gun at her chest. He managed to squeeze off two rounds before the gun simply disappeared, snatched away by his attacker's bloody claws before they whipped the back of his hands with lightning speed and accuracy, slicing the wet ignition gloves clear off for added insurance against any chance of last-ditch alchemy.

"I was so prepared to have a good time. I was so up for the fight. I expected a manly struggle with a lot of hot physical contact. But you humans are less than pathetic. Savor your last moments, boys. And Colonel, you should really concentrate on enjoying the show. Watch your loyal officer give his life to pay for your ineptitude. If you have a few moments to spare after he expires, use it to envision this: with you two out of the way, both of the Elric brothers are going to be mine."

Stepping over Havoc's now-convulsing body, she made her exit, deliberately sashaying away into what had been the front office of the former business, contemplating her next move with slow, sexy aloofness. It was time to go find Gluttony and have him make a clean plate of this mess. No doubt he'd find the remains quite tasty. This was all so easy it was boring.

She was almost happy to see the front door kicked in; as it flew open, she began flexing her fingers and smiling in anticipation of a little more action.

She wasn't completely surprised to see that Mustang had backup. In fact, what surprised her the most was the meager nature of his forces.

"Oh. I've seen you before," she purred, staring unconcerned down the barrels of Hawkeye's raised sidearms. "You're a pretty one. I'll bet you've done Colonel Sexy in every position imaginable. How was he, darling? I want details. You'll have to tell me all about it, because I'm afraid he's all through entertaining the ladies. It really is a shame."

"What do you mean, he's all though?" she asked, eyes darting around the dimly lit area before calling out. She was certain that she'd heard three rounds being fired, and they sounded like a match for Havoc's favorite handgun. "Colonel? Havoc? Where are you?"

"So noisy," Lust said, cocking her head sideways. "Did one of them really belong to you? It was careless of you to let him out of your sight. Hot men are so unreliable and dirty. Turn away for a minute and…something like this happens out of the blue."

"Something like what? Answer me!" Hawkeye motioned with her weapons, panic rising. It was confusing, because this woman looked unscathed. Who was Havoc shooting at?

"We had a threesome you wouldn't believe. When they realized that nothing less than full penetration with both of them would satisfy me – well, let's just say they couldn't go down fast enough. I got what I wanted and I really gave it to them, too. In spades." She rolled her dark-clad hips and thrust out her lower lip in a predatory, seductive smile.

"Yeah, 'wouldn't believe' is right. I don't believe you at all. Is that blood? Where are they? Answer me or I'll shoot!"

"Look at you. Jealousy and envy truly are the ugliest of all human emotions. Don't worry. You can have them back now. I'm done with them. I'm even willing to help you join them."

"Colonel!" she shouted, never lowering her weapons. "Done with what? Stop talking nonsense! And don't give me your lies about some threesome!"

"I mean done as in dead. They're both dead. It wasn't any kind of an effort, sadly. Just a few little flicks, and they were gone." She extended a talon-like finger and licked it, showing off the blood striping her tongue.

The look on the pretty, pale woman's face was priceless. Lust wanted to drink it up and then give her a new expression to wear. She had the sort of face that would look best flushed and panting, covered in all manner of fluids, crying out in pain and ecstasy. It might be a reasonable consolation prize for losing out on killing Havoc through sexual torture. This little mission had grown into an incredible hassle, and she intended to wring a little satisfaction out of it somehow.

Riza struggled with the urge to squeeze the trigger. This lady was obviously crazy. She couldn't just shoot her on the basis of circumstantial evidence and some wild claim that could be mere delusional ranting.

A long talon stretched from the end of her pointer finger; as Riza watched in disbelief, it came to rest casually on the base of her throat from twice her arm's length away.

In the blink of an eye, the talon slashed down, splitting the blue uniform down the front before whipping back and forth to separate the cloth for an unhindered view.

"Well, that is nice. I'll make you a deal. I'll let you come with me, and if you please me, I might even let you live long enough to mourn your pathetic lover for a few hours."

Soldier first and lady second, Riza opened fire on the monster, barely blushing at the unavoidable exposure. The bullets were hitting their mark, but each time the woman's attractive façade would contort and flash with red energy, and the wound would heal over before her very eyes. She was emptying her second clip in disbelief, fighting the desperation that came with the idea of being too late to save Havoc and Mustang, far more important than her own survival.

"You can't kill me that way!" shrieked Lust in pain and anger; she was bent and riddled with wounds but already healing and reforming, her body spitting out the slugs on the cement floor. "You won't even slow me down. You can ask your precious Flame Alchemist in hell right now if you don't stop. Come make me scream for the right reasons and I'll let you live a little longer, you stupid human bitch!"

Riza did pause, not to decide whether to take the dark creature's offer, but to follow the flash of light in her peripheral vision. If she wasn't mistaken, the walls visible through the doorway reflected a muted flash of flame alchemy from somewhere further back in the building. And there was a smell, just becoming detectable…she knew it well from the past, from back when Mustang dutifully incinerated humans on the battlefield on a daily basis. Whoever he was fighting, that smell meant that he had won.

Charged with hope, she snapped in new clips and resumed firing.

Mustang struggled valiantly to stay upright, but the cold was seeping into his very core through the open wounds. He never made it up off of his knees, and only managed to keep from collapsing forward for a few moments after the woman went past, helpless to stop her.

"Havoc!" he gasped. "Damn it. Havoc! Don't you die on me!"

He pulled himself along with his forearms, crawling to get in arm's reach of Havoc's fallen body, blood painting his path as he hauled himself across the filthy floor.

The roaring in his ears was drowned out by gunfire. He knew the cadence of those shots better than the tune of his favorite song.

Hawkeye, you idiot! It's too dangerous! Bullets don't work!

Fear for his subordinates iced his gut but he forced it away, refusing to let the agonizing possibilities cloud his mind. There was no time to lose if any of them were to survive.

He'd fallen on an area of dry concrete, the only stroke of luck so far. The rough surface scraped the skin on the back of his hands free of moisture in a few quick motions. It took fierce concentration to maintain the control necessary for the next step, nausea growing with the deep weakness of blood loss and the heavy taste of it in his mouth. He clawed a bloodied finger into the back of his hand, struggling to complete the diagram that would save Havoc's life.

I can do this. I must do this. I recognize the sound of that handgun. My subordinates just need to hold out a few minutes longer and if I can just keep him from bleeding out, he'll be fine.

I lead him into this trap – I have to get him out. He has to survive. He has to!

With a snap, his desperate attempt to stop the bleeding began. The stench of burnt flesh jarred his senses, letting the full significance of the continuing barrage of gunfire finally seep into his consciousness. He turned the flames on his own torso next, with far more speed, less care. The agonizing process seemed to take forever. There were so many places she had pierced through his entire body, eight major strikes in all, bubbling his life away in vivid crimson fountains. The wounds were incredibly painful, exceeded only by his own desperate, excruciating act of self-preservation.

But with the ruckus in the next room, he refused to afford himself the luxury of unconsciousness. The small arms fire was still barking away in familiar cadence, but no others were joining in; it must not be working against that monster. It sounded like just one person with two firearms. His subordinate might not survive the confrontation with that level of armament.

With an impossible, Herculean effort, he managed to get to his feet, stumbling in the direction of the fighting.

The dark woman was indeed riddled with bullets, drawing up in full fury to begin her counterattack against Lieutenant Hawkeye.

That was not going to happen.

Mustang attacked without preamble, nailing her hard with searing flames, forcing his ravaged body to perform his signature transmutation with deadly precision.

"Colonel!" screamed Hawkeye, the split-second of relief at seeing him alive driven away by the horror of the massive damage to his bared chest, his uniform pants soaked in blood from the waist nearly to knees.

"Get back Lieutanant," he ordered in grim determination. "Solaris! I'm your opponent, remember? Just tell me one thing. Did you kill Maes Hughes?"

Lust was too busy reforming and bursting with fury to answer; so he asked again, determined to force her to reply.

"Did…you…kill…Hughes?" he demanded, barking words in the pause between each alchemic barrage. "Answer me, you bitch!"

She was shocked for the first time in her existence. He really did have the intelligence and the power and the animal wiles to use up her regenerative ability. It was somehow…a turn-on. Now she had real regrets. Had she been smarter, this is the one she should have gone after. This was the body and soul, finally, that would be a worthy, perhaps even equal participant in her depraved night games. She was so sure that such a creature, homunculus or man, did not exist. But here he was, and it was almost too late. She tried one last strategy – cooperation.

"I wanted to! But someone beat me to it. I'm innocent. I never touched him," she finally spat, driven to her knees by a dozen fierce incinerations. There, he had his answer, and now he would be stupid enough to be merciful, and then…

"What about Fullmetal? Do you admit to participating in his capture and torture?"

"Wha…" she was caught off-guard; would lying be best, continuing to play the innocent? But the boy was still alive, and he probably told them some of the details. She might not get away with denying everything, but maybe the man could be teased into giving her enough time to regenerate. "You expect me to remember every little thing that happened while you've attacking me like this? Give me a chance to think, and I can give you all the gory details your sick little perverted soul is aching for."

"You know the details first-hand. So you admit that you were there?"

"Yes. I can prove it to you. I can even show you if you come with me." She smiled inwardly. The idiot. She was nearly able to move again. She'd show him, all right. She'd lead him straight into their lair, and hand him over to Envy. Then they'd show him exactly what that boy experienced.

"And you saw everything?"

"Yes. I watched it all. All you have to do is ask. I stayed for the whole show, I can tell you every detail."

Her smirk. Her tone of voice. She clearly savored the memory to such a degree that she couldn't fully hide her enjoyment. There was no need to ask if she even considered helping Ed or trying to interfere. She was probably concealing her participation in an attempt to make him think twice about attacking. But whether she hurt Ed or not, Havoc's life was hanging by a thread. And the only way to get him immediate help was to end this now. The black rage burning in his belly at her delight in human suffering wasn't driving his next move, but it did make the decision much, much easier.

"Then you have no right to live." The force of his final volley of flames singed the air, striking again and again in rapid succession, the heat driving Hawkeye back.

It was beyond Lust's comprehension. Impossible. So incredibly painful and confusing and…what was this feeling? Never before had she experienced it. It was worse than the physical pain, harder to take than the unacceptable reality of the situation. A cold, pinching feeling, more pervasive than terror, more devastating than mere defeat. The contrasting heat of the flame only amplified its icy grip on her soul.

The despair of eternal loneliness became clear to her in her final moments. Alone, she would disappear, and alone she would remain, without so much as an enemy to fight, nor a minion to degrade. The cold, dessicating grip of solitude held her, now and forever, and this death would insure that she remained so. If Father somehow reclaimed the energy of her stone, a new homunculi would be created. There would be no reincarnation. The knowledge came to her in an instant, like the wicked life that flashed before her eyes. Cursed to bear the unbearable, helpless to make a single gesture or sound of protest, the flames became her only company, and in the end she embraced them in attempt to take them with her. Something, anything, would be better than nothingness. Even agony. Even the burning sensation of death.

Her last efforts were futile.

The minutes that it took to reduce the dark woman into cinders felt like hours. The unnatural red glow from the stone in her chest flared and then dissipated in small swirl of crimson haze. Mustang barely saw it.

The world was growing dark and distant, vision fading rapidly from the tremendous effort and his dwindling blood supply. He managed, though. Until he was certain of her demise, he forced his body to perform. There was no alternative, not with the lives of everyone riding on his shoulders.

In the clearing smoke, Riza pushed forward, gasping at the burnt and bloodied wounds covering the Colonel's torso.

"I killed her. She's dead," Mustang whispered, more to himself than anyone, releasing his battle stance. Perhaps a greater power had been helping him hold out long enough to prevail. It seemed almost impossible. "Gone."

"Hold on," she cried, as Mustang lost his footing and went halfway to the ground, blood loss and exertion finally getting the upper hand.

"Get an ambulance for Havoc," Mustang managed, trying to shake the haze of the battle from his mind. He wasn't done yet, everyone wasn't safe and accounted for. "He's back there. I could only…stop…the bleeding. He…needs…help."

"Where is everyone? Fuery! Breda! I need you here now!" she screamed into the microphone on the tatters of her jacket, never louder than at this moment. The electronic device was unnecessary; silhouettes were already darkening the doorway as the men in blue coats came rushing in behind her, arriving in their pursuit of the source of the sounds of gunfire and Alchemic concussions.

Relieved that his trusted men would get Havoc and Hawkeye to safety, Mustang struggled to formulate the words to order them to do so. It was getting difficult to breathe, so much so that he was now incapable of speech. Frustrated in his inability to finish the job, he lost consciousness completely, wilting helplessly into the Lieutenant's arms as she eased his descent to the floor.

xxx

"It's incredibly fortunate that you had the wireless set to call for transport," Gansworth said, moving between the two gurneys and directing a dozen people at least, working to get the two injured men evaluated and stabilized. They would both need some serious patching up, and the full extent of the damage was as yet unknown. Both appeared to have been run through in several places; assessment of which vital organs might have been damaged and treating blood loss and shock were the first order of business. Luckily, with so much assistance, everything that could be done was being done all at once for both victims, and at optimum speed.

Havoc kept fading in and out of consciousness, his behavior capturing the close scrutiny of the doctor. He needed to be watched. Individuals with this sort of trauma experienced great pain and tended to get combative and thrash around, particularly if they were disorientated and unsure if they were still under attack.

But Havoc was still, very still, except for the slight, erratic movement from the neck up as his eyelids fluttered open.

"Can you hear me, Lieutenant?" Gansworth said directly into Havoc's face, raising his voice. Havoc didn't reply, but the wince in reaction told Gansworth that he heard something. "You're safe now. You're in the infirmary. I apologize for your discomfort, please bear it as best you can. I'll get you something for the pain as soon as it's safe. We need to thoroughly assess your condition first. Do you understand?"

Havoc nodded feebly, eyes closed again. The world refused to organize itself into meaningful orientation. Up was down, and he couldn't decide if he was standing or sitting or what. Until his vision got clear enough, there was no real way to decide where he was or what was going on. He felt fear – kind of – but not nearly as much as he should, considering his helpless state.

The one thing he did recognize was Gansworth's voice. That much he was sure of. He was in safe hands, wherever he might be.

"Help me out, now. I know that it hurts."

Havoc shook his head slowly from side to side, and curiously, felt surprised that he'd been able to.

"Doesn't…hurt…" he managed. "Just…can't …think straight."

Gansworth swallowed hard.

"You're not experiencing any pain?"

"Un-uh."

"It's fine, then, try not to worry too much. Some confusion is perfectly natural. Can you raise your arm for me?"

"I…" Havoc's face scrunched up, but nothing else moved. "I don't know."

"Can you try moving a finger? All right. Now , let's see you wiggle your toes. Does that hurt?"

"No. Doesn't…doesn't feel…like anything. It's hard…to get…enough air."

"You did a good job, just relax now." Gansworth ordered a respirator, transfusions, and x-rays, scribbling furiously. Incapable of responding to orders to move. Possible paralysis from the neck down. He caught the assistant's sleeve and addressed him outside of the Lieutenant's earshot. "I need him on a frame before you move him again. Then get him tubed up and down to imaging, stat."

Freed up to focus on the Colonel, he turned and observed that Hawkeye was still there in the ER intake, hovering over Mustang as if she expected to assist in some procedure. The Lieutenant wasn't in the way, but rules were rules, so Gansworth decided it was best enforce them and make her wait outside. He had a nurse offer her a gown to cover the front of her shredded uniform to break the ice, followed by the request for her to relocate to the waiting room.

Riza took it without comment, noting that her hands were still steady as she pushed open the door. They might chase her from the room but she'd be standing guard just outside, looking in through the small pane of glass in the door, watching for any funny business. Fuery was to bring her more ammo and additional weaponry; what little she had left wouldn't stop one of those beasts for a minute.

Their chances are good. You got them here in time. Gansworth's words, so matter-of-fact and delivered with calm assurance, brought her back from the panic she'd barely been able to suppress when they breathlessly arrived here. The doctor had to know what he was talking about. He was blunt and honest, and she believed him.

When Fuery showed up with the ammo, automatic rifles, grenades and a uniform, she changed right where she stood, and no one said a word.

"I'll be deployed to handle communications when the investigation team's ready. I just keep wondering, what can we do if we find evidence that there are a lot more of them?"

"If there are more like that, I can't think of anything to do but retreat until we can figure out a weapon that's effective against them. But it's not my call. It's really up to Major Armstrong. Before you go, make sure he's fully briefed. While he's acting in the Colonel's position, he'll need to know everything possible about the situation."

Fuery frowned, and she knew what else he was thinking.

"Yeah. Edward And Alphonse will probably figure out that something is wrong, but it is what it is. It'll be all right, Enfield can stay with them, he's good with the boys. Ed's been a lot easier to deal with lately. They'll be fine for a short time."

"Sure. I'm on my way, Lieutenant. Keep a good eye on him."

Riza gave her sidearm a meaningful pat and nodded firmly. No one was getting past her now. No one.

Xxx

The Major threw the bar on the door; the harsh sound punctuated the breathless sense that something big and awful was happening.

"What is it, Major?" Ed asked, gripping Al in readiness. He'd been here during alerts before, and this alarm pattern was the unfamiliar sound of the highest level of warning.

"It's just an alert, lad, nothing to concern yourself with. Probably just a security drill. And our part is to stay calm and stand by. Let's get ready in case we hear the evacuation tones."

"Where did you say Havoc went?" Ed frowned.

"Just on a personal errand."

"But I heard him say he was going with Mustang."

"Yes, they went together."

"That doesn't sound like a personal errand to me."

"But it was. They do socialize now and then."

"While they're on duty in the middle of the day?" Ed asked skeptically.

Al would have been thoroughly impressed with Ed's flight of deductive logic and clear thinking, had he not been so distracted. The horrible sense of foreboding and panic was growing with every less-than-reassuring response coming from Armstrong. He tried to deny it but every time Havoc was away, his insecurities grew stronger and stronger until the man was back in sight. Anything disruptive was that much harder to deal with and the concept of something bad happening to Jean was nearly impossible to consider rationally.

"You're telling me the old man scheduled a security drill at the highest alert level and then took a powder, just for fun, instead of staying to watch the results? Because I've never seen you drop that bar before, even during a real alert. This is a big deal, isn't it? Something's happening and you better tell me what it is!" Ed persisted.

"It's a base-wide battle station alert, and they're usually just drills. I don't have any other information, Edward. That's part of the idea behind a drill, you know. If they went around telling people up front that it was just a drill, it wouldn't be a proper test of readiness, would it? So please. Until we have an indication to the contrary, we will calmly take the proper actions. And right now our only roles are sheltering in place and watchful waiting."

The clatter of shouldered equipment embellished the echo of several men passing in the hall doing double-time; one voice was hastily advising the others to check the amount of ammunition they were carrying. They went past in a flash and it was quiet again.

Armstrong knew now it was no drill. Some big was going down, and he made a great effort to prime himself mentally for action, while keeping up a casual, reassuring front for the boys.

The Colonel's foray with Havoc must have flushed something from its nest, he was sure of it. The greatest likelihood was that the alert was called in order to send out reinforcements to back them up. Here in the compound things were probably safe; but he wasn't taking any chances. And protecting the Elrics from the distress of hearing too much about what might be going on was as much his protective function as maintaining their physical safety.

"See there? It's just a scramble. You just haven't happened to have been around when we've gone through this type of exercise. They're a bit disruptive so they aren't run very often."

Ed nodded and let Al go. He did remember seeing the procedure for scrambles in his manual during boot camp, and they must be rare, since he'd never experienced one first-hand. Regular emergency drills usually turned up errors that everybody got in the shit for, so people took them pretty seriously. The penalties they handed out to those who came up short were no laughing matter - you could lose leave privileges for up to six months.

An insistent knocking at the door sent Armstrong into action.

"Part of our drill is readiness, too. So let's take all the actions we would in a real emergency. You two get in the restroom and close the door until I tell you it's all clear to come out."

Al started to protest, thinking that Ed would refuse. But it was Ed that grabbed him and hauled him along to comply as the Major hustled them in the right direction.

"Got it. Go on Major, go see what they want." Ed closed the door once Al was behind him but silently eased it back open a little, peering out and then holding his ear to the crack.

"Is it Jean? Is it?" Al asked.

"Shhh," Ed hushed. "It's not."

He heard Fahlman's voice, low and impossible to understand at times. And then passing by, a vaguely familiar voice much louder, discussing something about shifts and coverage…

Did Fahlman say he thought there would only be one man on watch here because he thought Ed was in having his surgery? What surgery? Armstrong didn't seem to be surprised; the man just shook his head in the negative and made some explanation Ed couldn't hear as they stepped into the hall and let the door fall shut, cutting off Ed's chances of further eavesdropping.

"Have you been keeping a secret from me, Al?" Ed asked timorously, turning back to Al.

"What? You think there's a secret? Why do you ask?" Al asked unsurely. There were some things he wasn't supposed to discuss with Ed. Like anything having to do with Winry. So he did have some secrets.

"Does surgery ring a bell?"

"Like...what? No, I mean...what are you talking about?"

Al was a terrible actor. So the confusion on his face had to be genuine. And if it was something they were keeping from Al, too, it had to be serious in some way. Serious enough that he wouldn't be staying here in the room, so it was some kind of inpatient procedure.

Ed slumped back against the counter and chewed at his thumbnail, trying to remember. Where did Dr. Gansworth seem to have the most concern? He was always fiddling around with the automail structures – was that it? Was he going to restore the old automail himself?

No, that was outpatient, even if the guy was lousy at it.

Cosmetic surgery? Were they going to try to clean up some of the mess now? That didn't seem likely. So it had to be related to his back or his leg or his lung. He sincerely doubted that it was his problem lung. They told him about the surgeries he'd had, and how they were necessary after each major collapse, and he'd been relatively symptom-free lately. Or was it some problem with his intestines again? He vaguely remembered an emergency surgery related to that.

But this was obviously something pre-planned, not an emergency.

"Ed, talk to me. What are you talking about? Did you hear something?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"That's all I heard. Some guy – I think it might have been Fahlman – thought you'd be the only one here because of my surgery. Armstrong hushed him up, I think."

"Oh." Al searched Ed's face, wondering. He had a good dozen or more surgeries ahead of him and Al thought he was aware of it. It might be a little sudden to find out that one had been scheduled, but it sounded like a misunderstanding. "I thought you needed a few more procedures but not until later. Like, they're waiting to remove more scar tissue until you finish growing."

"I'm fine, I don't need anyone cutting on me. But I do need to find out what that guy meant. Stay in here, I'm going to see if I can hear anything else."

"I'm coming with you."

"Fine. You hear a lot better than I do now anyway."

They wasted no time in getting to the door. Men were moving in the hallway still, and someone else was talking to the Major. They were trying to keep it hushed, but the other man kept getting excited and his words faded in and out.

"…a second in command…to avoid…Central might send a replacement…Colonel Mustang…more of a mess…one of the perpetrators…one fatality…"

They crushed up closer to the door. This was serious, someone had died. This was no drill.

Al turned to Ed and stared. Havoc left with Mustang and he was supposed to be back any time now. He kept hearing Mustang's name…but that was only natural, right? He was the commander, so everything sort of revolved around him when something serious happened.

"…in the infirmary and I've got to go stand guard…"

"Thank you, Harris. Please, keep me informed." The Major let his voice return to normal volume.

They jumped back when the door handle turned; but Ed wasn't about to flee and pretend they'd done as they were told.

"What the hell is going on?" Ed demanded.

"Nothing, boys. You shouldn't be out here; I told you where you're to shelter in place."

"Wait! Tell us what's going on first. I know this isn't a drill, we have ears! Explain!"

"It's precisely because it's not a drill that I want you both in there until I get word that the base is secure. There's been an incident and the first order of business is to make sure that everything is locked down and everyone is accounted for."

"The Colonel and Lieutenant Havoc! Did they get back? Are they all right?" blurted Al.

The Major swallowed painfully. "Yes, Alphonse, please don't worry about that. They are back on base. But don't expect to see them for a while. They are quite busy, dealing with the aftermath of the incident. That's all I can tell you. Now, let's get you back…"

"Wait! What about this surgery I'm supposed to be having?" Ed shot back, resisting the move. "What is it, and why don't I know about it?"

Of all of the days for Ed to be sharp and lucid, Armstrong groaned inwardly. This was timing at its worst.

"Edward, I'm sorry. We'll have to discuss this later. I need the two of you to get back in the bathroom and wait. Or…" Armstrong saw the refusals on their faces already and rethought his approach. With the attack and grave injuries to the Colonel and Havoc, there was no telling if this was the beginning of an all-out offensive on the part of the homunculi. Edward had to be protected in case they still had designs on him. And unfortunately, as the current staffing would have it, the Major would have to sit in for the Colonel now. He had to make sure they were both calm and stable before he handed off the watch to Enfield and left him holding the whole bag alone.

"Come on. Back here. Both of you." He hustled them back, without waiting for agreement, and sat them one at a time on Ed's bed. It was the best place to put them in lieu of the bathroom, against the wall farthest away from the door. Given that they may have to wait for quite some time, this was more practical.

He grabbed the folding screen and opened it. It was only a visual barrier, but the restroom door had no lock, so it wasn't much different from a security standpoint. Bottom line, the first and only line of defense was in his massive hands, alone.

"You boys stay back here. This is important. Don't move until I tell you it's safe."

Ed's mind boiled with unspoken replies. He wanted to demand an answer to his question about the surgery. He wanted to know what was going on, what this incident was, and when Havoc would be coming back. And he wanted to correct the Major in no uncertain terms; they were not boys, because he was a man.

"Something's wrong. Really wrong," Al said. It sounded like he was talking to himself; his voice was so small and frightened. Ed hadn't heard him sound like that since they were little.

It triggered his big brother instincts; Al did look frazzled and scared. Ed took hold of his upper arm and pulled, sliding them back until they could both use the wall as a backrest. He put his arm around Al's shoulder, wondering why it seemed to surprise him so much.

"Brother," Al breathed. Ed hadn't been like this with him at all lately. But the elder Elric was having the most lucid, 'normal' day Al had witnessed so far. And even with this suddenly stressful situation, he hadn't slipped at all.

"It's okay, Al, don't worry. The Major will take care of things. And if he doesn't I'm here. I'll protect you no matter what. Got it?" Ed pulled Al closer for a moment in encouragement. "I haven't always done what's best for you but I'm going to from now on. That's a promise. You believe me, don't you?"

"Y-yeah."

"Then sit there and be good. You'll be just fine."

Ed's flesh hand patted, then petted, then kneaded Al's upper arm. Flesh. Real, human flesh. It looked pretty much like his did. It did kind of suck, having the automail, and he always believed that having an entire body made of foreign matter was exponentially worse, whether Al would admit it or not.

His soul was intact and back where it belonged. The terrifying prospect that his brother's sentience would lose his bond with the seal in the armor and disappear without warning was almost unbearable, back at the point when their abduction occurred. Maybe it happened the way it did for a reason. Maybe the whole idea, the big karma-centric joke, was that he had to be punished nearly to the death before he could get off the hook for what he'd done to Al. If so, it was all worth it. Touching the warm, vital, human body and watching Al squirm and blush was bittersweet self-indulgence. He was going to miss his little brother, and all that they might have shared. There was no way to just push those feelings aside all the time. It was one of the reasons he had to keep fighting the urge to get close to Al.

"Ed. Please. Get you hand out of my shirt. That tickles, damn it!"

Ed shook his head to clear it. "Wait. You put your hands all over me and I don't complain."

"When I'm doing your automail service, yeah. You still won't let me do all of your dermatological care."

"Some places are personal!"

"That was my point!"

"Okay. You're right." With that gentle discouragement, Ed finally managed to stop. It was for the best; he gathered the willpower and pushed away, without force or conviction, allowing the distance to return between them. Al's warmth was as precious as it was forbidden. This was no time to be distracted by such things. If they had some surgery planned for him that took significant recovery time, he had to make sure it didn't happen. He had to figure out this new, huge complication, and he had to come up with a solution fast.

"I didn't mean…you had to…Ed? I'm sorry. You can lean on me again. Okay? Please?"

Ed shifted, turning his back to the interference, and let his head rest on his fists, wracking his brain to the exclusion of all else.

"Ed…I'm really sorry." Al cursed his big mouth and shut it, fruitlessly waiting for the chance to handle it better next time.

xxx

Rage felt nervous, more afraid than he had before, even when Lust and Gluttony were attacking him. Mama was so worked up, so different, so focused…

Why did they have to go now, so suddenly? He crouched to see his reflection in the chrome of the discarded padlock on the floor, a new emotion rising in reaction to the glimpse of his eyes distorted in the metal. He liked the color, everyone mentioned it, it seemed like it made him special. But now, instead of pride, he felt terrified. Mama told him so many times that they were his "Daddy's" eyes. If they were Daddy's eyes, and they were going to meet him, did that mean he would expect to take his precious golden eyes back? Would he be left with no eyes at all, then, and just be blind? Or did this Daddy have eyes he was using and could give to him in trade? Would it hurt? If they weren't replaced, could eyes grow back, like his leg had? He wanted so badly to ask, but Mama was not in the mood to be bothered. Maybe they belonged to someone else before, but he couldn't bear the thought of giving them up without a struggle. Maybe that was the point…a test of his ability to defend himself. He flicked his hand out experimentally. The fingertips refused to turn into barbed claws like they had when Gluttony bit him. What if he couldn't defend himself against Daddy?

"Mama…"

"Shut the hell up! What did I tell you?" Envy snarled. "Just be ready to follow me. Stay right behind me and make damned sure you keep up. We're going to a place where you can stay and wait for me. Don't let anyone see you until I tell you it's all right to come out. Got it?"

Rage mewled assent and nodded before resting his chin on the floor, hugging the ground as if it were his only friend. Terrible, terrible things were about to happen, he was so very sure of it. Envy's mood was beyond his comprehension.

Envy dismissed his offspring's strange behavior, busy organizing his next move. So Lust got herself erased; he hated the nasty battleaxe but he did feel a twinge of discomfort at knowing that she had been defeated by mere humans. Worse still, her stone was lost, and he'd been counting on stealing it for himself and having the joy of powering up with the stolen stone while seeing her die by his own hand. The damned warehouses above wouldn't be safe portals for months now, if at all.

He'd darted in to locate the source of all the ruckus, but the scene he'd just seen from the rafters in his rat form when was only the aftermath. Even so, the main event was apparent enough: a head-on battle had gone down between Lust, the elusive Havoc, and that sappy, annoying Colonel. Lust had damned near won. Maybe it was a draw. The men seemed unlikely to survive their injuries for long.

Security would only get tighter in the weeks to come; so the time to move was now, right now, in the midst of the panic and confusion from the critical injury, and possibly even the death, of their leader. The little ants would be scurrying and disorganized in the wake; the fallen Havoc would no longer be an obstacle, and without his watch over the Elrics, the pattern of personnel assigned to them would be disrupted as well. He'd need no fine timing, just guts and the information his dry runs and espionage already afforded him. The cats were as good as in the bag.

"Let's go! Get up, you little shit, and you do exactly as I say! If you do anything to screw this up, you'll regret it worse than anything else you ever have in your entire worthless life!"

Not waiting for compliance, Envy smacked the crouching figure so hard it rolled ahead of him several times before scrambling up to stand. Rage flinched and dodged around him as he passed, staying obediently behind and just out of striking distance.

That's more like it, Envy though smugly. A parent should be able to instill a little fear and respect in a child. Now if he'd just stop being such a crybaby, that look on his face would be perfect.

"Daddy's gonna get a real kick out of you," Envy smirked.

Rage stumbled ahead covering his face with his hands in anticipatory defense, barely parting his fingers enough to see where he was going, his heart beating nearly out of his chest in fear.

xxxxxx

"That damnable infection, it's starting to take hold. Increase the E2 antibiotic drip by 40%, and get the nurses' station an order to increase Colonel Mustang's as well. Good thing we hit them with a precautionary dose right off," Gansworth said, motioning for the assistant to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The crude cauterization was now replaced with delicate, precise stitching and the mess cleaned up but for the start of infection. The one impalement that remained an issue was the one that cracked a vertebra and nicked the spinal cord. Fluid had leaked, swelling was setting in, and only time would tell if the resulting paralysis would subside along with the swelling and infection.

"The Colonel is in final prep. They're ready next door as soon as you are."

"I think I've done all that I can here. He stays on heavy sedation once this wears off. Check the chart against the dosage twice every time, make sure it's always precisely on time and perfectly accurate. He must be completely immobilized."

In some ways Mustang was more fortunate than his subordinate. The weapons that struck him were much thinner in diameter. Even though he had nearly twice as many wounds, the amount of stitching required was actually less. The grosser damage was self-inflicted. As careful as he had been on his subordinate, he was recklessly liberal with the cauterization of his own wounds, causing third-degree burns over nearly five percent of his body. Yet he'd lost a great deal more blood, requiring a transfusion where Havoc did not.

"We"ll let the anesthetic wear off and see how he fares. I'd say in he'll start coming around in about an hour."

Riza paced and paced, slapping her sidearm, going over and over her actions and how she might have prevented this. She should have insisted on backing him up from the start, called him on his bogus story; it might have even stopped them from going altogether.

Or it might have caused Mustang to stay and let Havoc to go alone, thinking it was just a date. If he had, they likely would have never seen him again. He would have disappeared and his fate would have been unknown. Second guessing was futile, impossible, almost self-torture, but in the grip of worry and waiting, her mind refused to let it go.

When the doctor came out and confirmed that the Colonel, like Havoc, had come through surgery in decent shape, she thanked him breathlessly and just managed to make it into a waiting room chair before lightheadedness got the better of her.

This was no time to let up. With the base on full alert and the likelihood that the beast the Colonel killed was not the same one that abducted the Elrics, they had to stay on their toes.

Gansworth finished rinsing his hands after changing out of bloodied scrubs, medical procedures all finished for now. The next area of concern was that of the Elrics. They were still far too dependent on Lieutenant Havoc, Al especially so - and now the Major was going to leave them as well, forced to take up the Colonel's responsibilities during this crisis. Ed did not do well when the Major was gone for any length of time unless Havoc was there. Corporal Enfield filled in adequately in most situations so far, but that didn't guarantee that he would be equal to the task of handling both Elrics in the face of extreme distress and disruption. A second attendee familiar to the boys was not yet available due to the state of emergency. Certainly, this was all brewing into a very volatile situation.

He made his way to his office, pushing aside a pile of reports to clear a spot for his bag. The thing was, there had been so much improvement in the boys' behavior lately, he almost questioned the decision he just made, pausing with the key to the drug cabinet in his hand.

He shook off the doubt, pinning it to the Colonel's constant complaints about his therapeutic use of tranquilizers. It was best to be cautious. Sedate them well and spare them the potential setbacks that this sort of bad news might bring. If luck was with them, the Lieutenant's paralysis would subside with the swelling, and he might be able to recuperate in the room with them before long. And the Colonel, obsessed as he was with his position of leadership, would relieve the Major of his duties as acting Colonel as soon as he could sit upright and hold a pen in bed. They wouldn't have to do without Armstrong for long.

No, there was no reason to take the risk of telling them what was actually happening. It would be inhumane to subject them to this acutely stressful situation when a few days of drug-induced relaxation could spare them from it entirely.

He stocked the bag with pre-loaded syringes and pills, giving him dosing options for all levels of cooperation or lack thereof, since he couldn't be sure how upset they might already have become from the serious disruption of their routine.

The amber plastic bottle bobbled out of his hand and hit the floor; bending over to pick it up spiked the intermittent mental fog that caused him to drop it in the first place. He sat heavily, not because he wanted to…he felt driven to get to the boys as quickly as possible and make sure they were situated safely and comfortably. But this off feeling had been creeping around his awareness all day, and now that he had a moment to think about it, he really did feel a bit under the weather. So many directions he needed to be going in right now, full steam ahead…there was really no time for weakness.

A few deep breaths and he stood cautiously, not 100% but not good enough. After taking care of the boys he'd come back and catch a nap. It was probably just lack of sleep. He latched the case and consciously took a long, last deep breath.

The intercom buzzed loudly just as his hand gripped the handle, startling him slightly.

"Yes?"

"The Colonel is still showing signs of significant hemorrhaging. The monitors are picking up decreases in pressure and stats. "

"I'll be right there." It wasn't entirely unexpected, many of the puncture wounds went through meaty areas that were left to heal naturally without stitching but for the entrance and exit points, and some small amount of bleeding might yet take place internally – but the infection could be interfering if the antibiotics weren't adequate, and there was always a chance that a nicked vein or artery had finally ruptured. He'd already had one transfusion, which was risky enough. .

The Elrics would have to wait. He took his bag to save the time it would take him to detour back to get it. As soon as the Colonel was stable, he'd go straight to Ed and Alphonse and get them taken care of.

But after half an hour of frustration, Mustang's condition hadn't stabilized, and the man wasn't alert enough yet to respond to questions.

Afraid to wait any longer, Gansworth called for an orderly, gave him two pills and specific instructions, and sent him to the Elric's room double-time.

xxxxx

Al's nervous insistence on reclaiming his attention made it impossible for Ed to concentrate. Frustration welled up into a strong urge to lash out verbally and make him back off, but those puppy-dog eyes proved to be too much. With a sigh, Ed took Al's shoulder and pushed him until he was sitting with his back against the wall again, scooting along to join him. It was clearly what Al wanted. As soon as they were side-by-side, legs straight out in front of them with the cool support of the wall and the warmth of each other's shoulder to lean against, the younger Elric's face lit up with approval.

"Yeah! Great idea, brother. This is a lot more comfortable. We…we may have to sit here a while longer, so this is good!"

Ed nodded and rubbed his eyes, shoving the hair back out of his face in mild uneasiness. Nothing that was happening today made sense. The most significant thing so far was learning of this surgery. Forewarned, he could probably get the procedure, whatever it was, postponed somehow.

Armstrong was in the hallway, his conversation inaudible outside the closed door, for what must have been the tenth time since they were instructed to stay on the bed. Ed was quite certain something was up with the military beyond a mere heightened security alert from some single off-base incident, but he lacked the inner state of alert that his body usually adopted when he sensed danger. It was hard to get excited at this point. He didn't sense a single ripple of homunculus presence. Left with an odd, inexplicable calm given the situation, Ed was able to give Al a solid shoulder to lean on.

Al settled against his brother and held his breath for a few beats. Whatever it was that put them in this position, he couldn't help but hope that it would not be resolved soon.

Ed's thoughts weren't all that different.

I've got him. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but I have Al back, and I can hardly bear the thought of losing him again. I know that I need to stop farting around and push my plans into motion – every day I wait gives the enemy more time to build up their power as well. I know that. I have to make the break with him as soon as possible. But in a situation like this, where I'm forced to just stay with him…it's hard not to feel grateful for these moments. They might be our last. In fact, if I do what I should do, this is the last time we'll be together like this.

Ed swiped at his eyes roughly, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Sanity brought with it the crushing weight of more clarity. Being crazy was inhumanely painful. But each time he managed to start feeling somewhat sane, it was painfully clear that it was just the other side of the same agonizing coin.

"You okay, Ed?" Al asked, looking up at him with his head back a little, trying to get a better look at his brother's expression.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Shhh, hold still, I think someone's coming in."

Sure enough, words were exchanged through the door, and the scrape of the bar lifting meant they had a visitor.

It wasn't long before Armstrong peered around the screen.

"I need your cooperation for a few moments, lads," the large man said.

"I thought we were cooperating," Ed said warily.

"Yes. Of course. I just need another small favor. Doctor Gansworth has sent the orderly with a pill for each of you to take. It's a sedative; I'm to tell you that up front because he knows that you will ask. He says to assure you that it's very mild."

"We're fine. We don't need it."

"That very well may be. But these are orders, Edward, and we must follow them."

Thinking fast, Ed turned the situation over in his mind. He couldn't risk being sedated if something happened. Al, on the other hand, would probably benefit from it. His palms were sweaty and his voice high-pitched; Ed recognised it as a sure sign of his brother's raw nerves and emotional stress.

Ed took the cup of water and the little white pill from the Major and paused, motioning to Al to do the same.

"We might as well, then. Go ahead, Al. No point in fighting it."

Al nodded and held out his hands, taking great care not to spill the water. Something to take the edge off, and Ed was taking it, too. This was good, it had been starting to feel more and more tense, like they'd exceed the time limit for togetherness. Now that self-conscious itch would subside and their quiet moment of camaraderie might extend into hours.

Ed made the motion of taking his pill, not too slow, not too fast, and drank deeply while making sure the pill was completely hidden, pinched in between the base of his second and third fingers. He let Armstrong see his empty hands, then complied with the usual request to open his mouth and lift his tongue and twist it left and right. This was proof that the drug had been swallowed down and not tucked into his cheek or under his tongue to be spit out later, the method he tried to use many times in the past to avoid medication.

Al followed suit; but just as he finished taking his drink, Ed flicked the hidden pill so that it appeared to fall from the younger Elric's hand.

"Oh…oops?" Al heard the unmistakable tic! and leaned over, looking down to see the pill bouncing on the floor, confused. It was so tiny, maybe it had stuck to the sweat on his hands when he tried to pop it in the back of his throat…he thought he had taken it, but…

The Major, unsure if it was an attempt to avoid the medication, picked up the errant pill and cautiously approached Al again, holding it out.

"You said it was really mild?" Ed asked, hovering. He didn't want to risk an overdose. But the pills were very tiny, much smaller than anything else they'd been given. If nothing else, it would probably put Al to sleep for a while. And that would give him a chance to think without interruption.

"Yes. There's really nothing to worry about. So Alphonse, please follow your brother's lead."

"Hey! I didn't do that on purpose. I mean, what good would that do, just throwing it down where you can see it?"

The Major didn't have a response, so Al took the pill back and brushed at it, more of a symbolic dusting off than anything, and took it as well.

Ed smiled without mirth, a distant look in his eye.

Armstrong wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it seemed a bit odd. Ed caved in to the medication without argument, almost too willing, and that in itself was disconcerting. But he wouldn't be able to stay much longer; he had delayed taking up his post in the Colonel's office longer than he should have already. There were too many details to be able to continue taking care of business by stepping out into the hallway. Once the medication calmed the boys, Enfield would be able to take over. He would be all right until things calmed down and they could free up an appropriate second attendant.

"Let's not cause any trouble, Al. The Major is just doing his job."

"Now. I want to let you know that I have some duties to attend to but I will only be gone for a few hours. Corporal Enfield will be here shortly and he'll stay with you through the watch."

Al was fond of Enfield, a fact that both pleased and worried Ed, although he couldn't quite figure out what it was that bothered him about it. One thing for sure, he was glad Al was medicated. It was getting clearer by the minute that this was no small matter. It had gone on too long. It was getting more disruptive instead of less the longer it went on. He was itching to ask more questions but he didn't want to upset Al. With luck, soon Al would be dozing or very nearly so, and at that point, he would press as hard as necessary to find out what was really happening. Stupid Havoc, taking off and not giving them any warning that there might be trouble. When he saw that idiot again, he was going to let him know what a jerk he was for leaving them in the dark with all this going on.

It was almost impossible to sit still. Ed's mind spun in tighter and tighter circles, obsessing with the possibilities. To maintain the charade of being medicated, he leaned over and snagged the book he'd been re-reading. Al was heavier against his shoulder now, and he had to use one hand to help keep him from sliding sideways.

"Oh, sorry," Al sighed, his smile wide and his eyes closed.

"Don't you worry, I've got you. Just let me take care of everything," Ed said softly, and he meant it from the bottom of his perpetually aching heart.

xxxxxxx

Pain seemed to be inextricably intertwined with the color white and the smell of disinfectant. It was blinding and disorienting and sharp, very sharp, stabbing him with each and every breath.

"Roy."

The sound of his first name…he rarely heard it these days, except when it was called out by the fairer sex when he was out carousing. Spoken in a somber male voice, it was as good as a slap in the face. He managed to find the blurry face, a smear of beige hovering in the white sky above his head, and slowly, far too slowly, his brain assembled the clues and retrieved enough scraps of memory to hint at his situation.

This is the hospital…

"He's coming around. Colonel Mustang. Can you hear me?"

Despite the pain, he flew into an extreme state of alarm, not knowing what had happened but certain that it had to be bad. It felt as if his entire torso would tear apart when he reared up.

"Easy now! Don't try to get up! Everything's fine, settle down, you'll rip out your stitches!" Gansworth pushed him back down firmly, careful to guide him back with minimal force. "Look at me, now. Use your energy to try and focus. You know me, Colonel, take a good look. You're safe now. You're going to be all right."

"Uuuhh," Mustang groaned, struggling to see, acknowledging somewhere in his mind that, yes, this was Gansworth's voice.

"That's it. There's no need to fight me. I need your attention, Colonel. Please. Try to stay calm and listen to me."

Easier said than done. Mustang tried to shake his head to clear it and quickly discovered just how counter-productive that move was.

"You're in the recovery room of the base hospital. It may take you a bit to remember how you were injured but rest assured, you're safe now and you're going to be all right."

Havoc! The first thing that leapt to mind was that Havoc had been with him and something grave had happened to him.

Mustang tried to speak but they'd just placed an oxygen mask over his mouth. He tried to reach up to tear it away, causing a commotion all around as the doctor and nurse grabbed his hand and pressed him down again.

"Colonel, you must be still. You have well over a hundred stitches, and some very severe burns. All this motion is going to worsen your condition." Gansworth held tight, but with great care, trying to still him without applying much pressure. He supposed they should have used the soft restraints after all. He was about to call for the orderly to bring them when he looked in the dark, wide eyes and realized what the problem might be, given all that he knew about the man.

"Your Lieutenant Havoc has been placed in a regular room. He was treated before you were, so he's already been moved out of Recovery. I'm considering placing the two of you in the same room, per Lieutenant Hawkeye's suggestion. Given the nature of the situation, she plans to give you both round-the-clock protection until you're back on your feet." Bad choice of words, Gansworth supposed. It might mislead the Colonel into thinking that Havoc would be ambulatory soon, as well.

But that must have been the issue, because the tension drained out of Mustang's muscles and he became quiet again, watching and waiting with worried eyes.

Ed came to mind immediately. Roy understood well Fullmetal's extreme reluctance to return to this place. The helplessness was worse than the pain, and after the hideous things those monsters did to him while he was immobilized and powerless, it surely had to come back to him on some level every time he had to give up control in this intimidating setting.

Even as an adult it was hard to trust in medicine and doctors, to know when to cooperate and when to question, when it was vital to have faith and when it was foolish. Ed spent so much time suffering while looking up at this very ceiling, a sky patterned in aging acoustical tiles, stained here and there from the occasional leak of rain from above, and God knows what from below…

Ed. They should be keeping all of this from him. Alphonse, as well. Havoc's absence would be disturbing enough without having them know the frightening details.

It wouldn't be so bad if he knew for sure that the creature they'd fried was just another shape of the "Envy" that mutilated Edward. How he wished he could give the boys the gift of that peace of mind. But it had all come rushing back, and now, replaying the heart-stopping moments that lead to Havoc's fall – he believed her. She was there, she watched…but she was not the main perpetrator. Envy was still at large, and it took a butt-ton of firepower to take a creature such as that down.

He shook his head with a pleading look, and Gansworth cautiously removed the mask.

"How…long?" he managed.

"How long have you been here? Not long, I…"

But Mustang interrupted him with a frown and as much of a shake of his head as he could pull off.

"When…will I…get out?"

"Colonel, your wounds are severe and I can't emphasize enough how important it is for you to spend sufficient time resting quietly to allow for healing and to fight the infection. You do have an infection, and so does Lieutenant Havoc. It's the same strain as we saw with the Elrics. It's strictly circumstantial, but I suspect that these infections are somehow caused by being in contact with these strangers. And you're fully aware of how hard it is to eradicate."

Mustang's jaw still set firmly. "How long?"

Gansworth blinked and stared, momentarily nonplussed.

"Six weeks minimum," he said finally, with a frown. Even that was too optimistic for his taste. "Accept it. I won't release you prematurely. You're impaled through no less than ten places in your body. You were run clear through each time. Your burns are quite extensive. It's a miracle either of you are still alive, it's lunacy to take any further risks with your lives."

Mustang twisted slightly in a pathetic, failed attempt to express defiance.

Well, at least he seemed lucid and lively enough, all things considered. His blood pressure was improving. "How are you feeling? Is there anywhere the pain is worse? Does anything have you worried?" Gansworth learned long ago to encourage his patients to express any 'gut feelings' they might be hesitant to reveal or have difficult putting a finger on. If it feels wrong or worrisome, it should be investigated immediately, regardless.

Mustang groaned. Was that a joke? He shook his head.

"Let's see if we can't make you a little more comfortable, then." It was safe to begin administering painkillers, and the drowsier it made him, the better. He stripped the seal from a squishy bag of medication.

"No," Mustang managed. "I don't need it."

"Yes, you do." Without any delay, he hung the small bag, plugged a line into the sterile port and opened the valve wide open for a few seconds before adjusting it back to the slow continuous drip. This had such a feeling of déjà vu - only the patient doing the protesting in the past was much shorter, and blond.

A slightly uncomfortable heat invaded Mustang's veins before the positive effects of the sedation kicked in. It took his mind back to Ed again, and his violent, terrified reaction to this unique sensation. Was this going to knock him out, just kill the pain, or take him somewhere in between, where he would be quieted but still suffering, still aware of potential threats but unable to respond in self-defense?

Gansworth had full control. He had 95% faith in the doctor's integrity. But still…

"I'm here, sir. Please do as the doctor says and try to rest. Everything is under control."

Hawkeye's voice was a blessing. The fear, if not the worry, drained away. He didn't want to give in but there was nothing he could do. Unlike Fullmetal, he had his backstops, people he could trust with his life, and the selfishness to let them take up the load when it was best. Ed seemed to have some faith in a few people, but never with any intention of relying upon them lest he be seen as a burden. It had taken so long to get him to open up and accept help, from Armstrong and Havoc and himself…

And Gansworth. Damned if he hadn't reached Ed on a level Mustang wasn't sure if he'd ever obtain. It was good, though - it was important. And on that merit he determined that the doctor was worthy of that 95% trust.

Hawkeye and her sidearms more than made up for the other 5%. Unwilling yet resigned to it, he let go and drifted into a mercifully painless oblivion.

xxxxxxx

Envy kicked at a rock impatiently, irritated at the child lagging behind in maddening cowardice, and at the delay this stage of the plan would represent.

There wasn't really any good place to hide the kid the way things stood. He'd hoped from something more substantial than just hiding behind a tree or a bush. What he really wanted was a cave or an old coyote den, something unremarkable that had been on the scene all along, previously searched and now likely ignored.

Rage's ability to defend himself was untested and unknown. Envy couldn't afford to have humans stumble across the small half-homunculus while he was away in the midst of collecting the Elrics. If the kid was discovered and put up a fight and lost, all his personal suffering and sacrifice in bringing up the little bastard would be for nothing.

"Get your ass over here," he snarled.

Rage mewled, trembling, even as he complied, knowing full well that his behavior would earn him some kind of punishment. But he didn't want to be left here alone, in this unfamiliar, harsh environment, waiting for some stranger to come take his eyes. He didn't want to meet this person; he didn't need anyone else in his life. Mama took care of everything. Mama was all he ever needed.

Envy motioned to a space between two rocks, a small but serviceable hiding place beneath the point where they leaned together, but Rage shook his head.

"Get in there, damn it!" Envy grabbed the thin shoulders and threw his offspring, more into one of the rocks than between them, but he didn't apologize for his bad aim. After all, the kid deserved it for sassing back and holding him up.

"Please…Mama…no…"

"I swear," Envy growled, "if you fuck up my timing any worse than you already have and make me miss this opportunity, I'll erase you and start over. Understand? Now do as you're told and shut the hell up! You hide right there and don't move until I tell you to!"

Rage whimpered and shook, crouching down in reluctant obedience.

Envy rolled another boulder to further enclosed the hiding spot, grumbling.

"I can't believe I was in such a hurry to teach you to talk. Now that mouth of yours is nothing but trouble."

For just a moment, he felt an overpowering anger, surging in his veins with the urgent need to kill something. The last boulder he planned to slide into place as the final bit of cover rose high into the air, and if it weren't for the soft gasp and ensuing complete silence, he might not have fully realized what he was suddenly aching to do. His hands shook and for a moment, frozen in time, he wasn't sure if he could stop himself. Something this big and heavy, thrown down with all of his might, had the very real possibility of killing his very young and physically immature half-human offspring. He didn't question whether he had that right; he was quite sure that Rage's life was his to do with however he saw fit. But what caught him off-guard was the reason for his foul temper.

Outrage. As much as he disliked the stupid, smart-mouthed tramp, no human had the right to take her life. No human should be able to erase a red stone, ever. But as he'd witnessed with his own beady little black eyes, whiskers erect in shock – one man had. So full of himself, disgustingly handsome and proud of the dirty, underhanded tricks he used to maximize his pathetic alchemic powers. Filth like that should die a thousand deaths. Crushing him with rocks would be too merciful. It wasn't too late to change up the plan and make him the target of this assault. Then, with Mustang out of the way, a return trip to get the Elrics could just be that much easier. Envy wasn't used to being rushed. Events usually played out by his timetable. Making such important decisions on the fly was not his preference, nor his talent.

The boulder exploded into dozens of fragments, raining down with insignificant effect, not unlike laughable blows delivered by vulgar human fists.

No, Rage was not the right target, not for his assault nor his anger.

"I'm sorry," Rage breathed, balled up, holding his knees tight, head down. The waves of murderous fury washed thought him still. The only soul who cared for him in all the world made him constantly fear for his very life. There was nothing else to do but submit and hold his breath.

Envy brushed his hands off in a rough, slapping motion, getting the dirt and pebbles off, regaining control. He never would have suspected that his emotions would be touched in any way by the loss of his insidious teammate. The hatred he felt for the Colonel was quite remarkable.

Perhaps it really had more to do with being outdone. The kill should have been his; how dare some mere mortal evoke his core feelings of envy.

Turnabout was the true revenge. Taking the Elrics would give the insufferable bastard a taste of his own medicine. And then killing him at leisure would be easy. When he came to the rescue this time, a more suitable fate would be in store. Envy knew his tricks now. Lust had a high opinion of herself, much higher than was justified, and her overconfidence made her sloppy. She went down because she was caught by surprise, nothing more.

Rage heard movement and the threatening atmosphere vanished. When he dared to look up, he had to shift and crane his neck to find a gap big enough to peer out. Mama was gone. With a shuddering sigh, he relaxed into a more comfortable position to wait. They might be coming to pluck out his eyes but at the moment he was too wrung out to fret about it. The world was reduced to this tiny space, his own little spot, lovingly created by his Mama to protect him.

When he thought about it that way, it kind of warmed his heart.

xxxxxx

Al was so still and quiet, Ed couldn't help but rest a hand on his solar plexus for reassurance that it was still rising and falling. He looked so peaceful and happy. It would probably be okay to leave him be now; he probably wouldn't notice his big brother getting up and relocating to the other bed. But Ed really didn't want to move.

It felt like he was preparing for something to happen but he didn't know what. It was best like this, then; Al should stay quietly asleep and out of harm's way no matter what.

They hadn't been misbehaving yet Gansworth sent the medication to keep them quiet - there had to be some some other factor to justify it. He didn't come in person, and there had to be a reason for that, as well. He knew how much Ed hated to be sedated and lately he always made a point of delivering that medication in person if possible.

So it must not be possible to come here – the man and his very specific talents were needed elsewhere. Ed jumped to the conclusion that some sort of casualties had to be treated and the doctor might have sent the drugs to make sure they didn't start asking questions. He agreed that Al didn't need to be concerned with the military's burdens of grief and peril, related to the homunculi or not.

Ed was aware that his own focus was pretty narrow, unlike the Amestris army's many agendas. While he was sure something was amiss, he tried to rein in his unruly mind from jumping to too many concusions. It wouldn't do to tip his hand in the excitement of wrongly assuming this was the moment of truth he'd been preparing for.

The Major was in the hallway again, and it sounded like Enfield's voice. The Major escorted the younger soldier into the room, and Ed was so startled, he almost forgot to feign a drugged state.

Enfield was armed to the teeth. Ammunition laced the webbing across his body; they were large, armor-piercing rounds, to fit the massive weapon he carried with the butt tucked into his armpit. Sidearm holsters rode on both hips and grenades clipped in clusters of three hung in front of both; Ed almost missed the long dagger sheathed in a leather case strapped to the sturdy thigh.

Ed cleared his throat while the Major casually spoke of returning soon. The massive alchemist tried to make it seem as though everything was peachy-keen.

"You look real comfortable," Ed grunted, trying to seem only slightly interested. "Your drill story is getting ridiculous."

Enfield smiled disarmingly and shrugged.

"It don't really matter to me how much stuff they expect me to tote around, Majors. I'm here to obey and collect my pay. Just like everybody else."

"The boys are likely to need some help getting around for the time being, Corporal," Armstrong intoned, watching Ed with a smidgin of doubt. He didn't seem to be under the influence much – and not at all compared to Al. "They've had a bit of medication recently."

Enfield nodded, stowing the largest gun well out of reach from the Elrics' usual pattern of travel from bed to restroom and back again. Al was definitely not going to be an issue, which was great news. Ed was usually handful enough one-on-one. Taking them both on alone, and making sure they didn't get access to the weapons he needed to have at the ready, was a task he had been preparing for mentally without relish. He'd come to the conclusion that any disobedience would have to be dealt with swiftly and severely to keep everyone safe and in one piece.

But Ed, alone and medicated, could be afforded kinder and gentler treatment. It was a lot easier to stay on top of his behavior and keep him from getting out of control if the distractions were kept to a minimum. That sat well with the young Corporal.

"Give him some medicine, too, Major," Ed said, nodding at Enfield and deliberately slurring a silly thought to cement his role as semi-helpless captive. "He looks kinda red in the face."

"I'm fine, Sir. But I appreciate the thought."

"Huh." And with that, Ed yawned and turned away, letting them watch as he straightened his brother's sleeve before resting his forehead on it. Every nerve tuned in to sense the movements in the room. The Major was stepping back in the direction of the door; Enfield held firm. A hesitation as the door opened; Ed knew that Armstrong was weighing his next move, deciding if it was best to say goodbye or leave quietly.

As Ed guessed, the door closed softly and silent disappearing act was the selected option. Al slept on, looking for all the world like he was happy.

For a moment Ed felt alone and empty. The Major's departure chilled the air and despite the well-armed bodyguard, he felt like it left them exposed. It emphasized the gap between his state and Al's. If it was the medication that made Al feel that good, he kind of wished he had taken it, too. They could be smiling and dreaming pleasant dreams together while this strange, stressful situation passed. That wasn't bad, was it? Maybe the nightmares were well-deserved, but he couldn't help longing for an end to them. Even a temporary respite would do. Sleep would be welcome; how wonderful to anticipate being renewed and refreshed, to let go without dread.

He must have contemplated Al's blissful expression for quite a while. Enfield was settled at the table now, listening for any activity in the hall while keeping watch over them. Ed figured he could take this guy if he had to, but he wasn't committed to that course of action. He hadn't really considered using any weapon before, but after seeing the arsenal the Corporal was packing, he wondered why he hadn't. Just because alchemy was his specialty didn't mean that alchemy was always the best approach. Sometimes, when things happened fast and close, a man with a firearm had the upper hand.

He used to be a pretty good shot, but he shot right-handed, and he'd had zero practice with this flimsy replacement automail. Speaking of which…

"Hey, when do I get my automail back?"

"What?" Enfield straightened up, shaking his head.

"I need to talk to Mustang right away." Ed caught himself – too direct and forceful. He was supposed to be drowsy and happy.

"Settle down, now. The Colonel's busy," Enfield said cautiously.

Something in that reply did not sit right. Too fast and stiff.

"Busy with what? Sleeping at his desk I bet." Ed yawned and stretched, successfully fooling Enfield into assumed he wasn't being scrutinized.

A hint of involuntary grimace passed across his face, just a fleeting change, but Ed saw it. Something bad had happened relating to the Colonel. Maybe he was a casualty. Maybe MIA. But something.

Damn it. Ed rubbed his face and considered confrontation. Just come out and say it. Bluff for all you're worth.

"He's just busy."

"You're lying. Something happened to Mustang. He's been hurt, hasn't he?"

"There's no need to get excited." Enfield stared wall-eyed at his sudden shift from drugged to driven. The nature of his duty changed just as abruptly.

"I have ears. Voices carry from that hallway."

"Now, Ed, I told you to settle down. You're getting a little too worked up."

"Then tell me the truth!"

"Truth is," Enfield said coldly, rising from his chair, "you're going to go back to that bed and sit down, lie down, whatever. And you're going to be quiet and you're going to be good and I'm not going to accept any other behavior."

The staring eyeball-to-eyeball portion of the afternoon was now fully underway.

Xxx

Envy crept along the ground, his form merely an indistinct shadow, and stopped to watch and listen.

A siren wailed high and low at regular intervals. Armed soldiers stood at the ready, space evenly around the perimeter. Dogs barked intermittently in the near distance.

Awww, how nice, he thought sarcastically. A welcoming party just for me? However did they know?

The base had greatly increased the manpower and frequency of their security measures, but after observing for a while, it became clear that it was in the same pattern as always. One he'd already planned for with myriad contingency plans.

A single gunshot rang out. Envy smirked as he watched; they were so scared they were shooting birds out of the sky and sending dogs to retrieve them. He had correctly assumed that bird form was no longer the sure thing it used to be. They were serious, all right – seriously pathetic. As if that was his only trick.

The gate, the main entrance – perhaps double the usual personnel manned the stations and patrolled the area. While that was potentially troublesome, the constant movement and increased number of people coming and going were factors in his favor when it came to getting in and getting around.

Getting out with his prize might be a little stickier than he expected, though.

Well, there was no point in waiting. It looked like the bluecoats were settling in to the pattern of upgraded security. With lightning speed, he was upon the first young man that had uttered his passcode in earshot as soon as he was out of the line of sight of his comrades. It was thrilling to take out a specimen so young and well-muscled, trained in the art of combat, a professional killer. Like a silent, slashing whirlwind of death, Envy swept into and through the man without slowing down, delivering fatality with a speed that defied the naked eye. Up and onto the roof in a single blur of movement, behind the HVAC unit where he stuffed the still-warm and leaking remains, he dropped the stolen lanyard over his own neck and pinned the badge where it belonged on the mimicked uniform. Just as quickly, before anyone else entered the area, he leapt back down to the ground and continued the path his victim had been taking.

Easy as pie. Or cake. Or death.

It was time to find the specific soldiers gleaned from his earlier reconnaissance missions. Certain men routinely went in and out of the building where the Elrics must surely be huddling in fear. He knew most of them by sight. Making a second loop around the back, ostensibly checking the security of the access doors, he hit pay dirt in the form of a hastily exiting sergeant.

"Passcode and ID, sir," Envy demanded with a deceptively serious face. The moron gave it to him without hesitation, and was about to ask him to do the same, when his life of military duty and strife suddenly came to an end without any warning.

With his new ID on his chest and the first man's tucked in his pocket for later, Envy used the dead man's master key and let himself in. In less than ten minutes he not only had the identities, badges and passwords he would need to pull this off, he had the added bonus of the keys. They might come in very handy, indeed.

Still, his time was limited. The bodies in the HVAC would be all right in the short term, but eventually human bodies gave off a distinct odor in death. He hustled up the side hall into the main corridor. It was almost thrilling. There was the door, and just beyond, his prey.

An orderly turned the corned at top speed, pushing a cart with linens and such, giving the supplies a last poking through with one hand as steered with the other.

Even better, Envy smiled inwardly.

"Halt there. ID and destination," he barked.

The orderly came to an abrupt, expertly smooth stop, and presented his ID, his password, the room number of his destination and his story.

"We've moved them temporarily; follow me."

Envy snagged the front of the cart and pulled it along, depriving the man of any time to think.

"Wait. Sir? What do you mean, you moved them? I…"

He'd only made a half-dozen steps in pursuit of his cart before drawing his last breath. Crammed into a room Envy had selected for his interior "disposals", the lifeless form fell across the body of the previous guard.

Armed with more than enough identities now, Envy relieved the orderly of this coat, having been careful to keep it free of telltale blood. The deep pockets were perfect for his ID collection. And lo and behold, a small case with a pair of loaded hypodermics rested in the left one. More possibilities, more options. This was just too fun. He stripped the other man of his uniform and folded it up, placing it under stacked linens on the cart.

The wheels rattled merrily as he popped back into the corridor and traveled back into the main hallway, dead on course for the visit he'd anticipated for so long.

xxxxx

"Colonel, sir, you need to be still."

Hawkeye sighed and adjusted the sheets and tubing yet again. Her superior's bruised and swollen cheek was exposed now; he'd managed to rub the bandage off somehow and cracked open the minor wounds, and they wept a yellowish fluid streaked with blood. If he kept it up, the doctor would follow through on his threat to use restraints. Short of keeping the man completely unconscious, Hawkeye knew that any kind of restraint would cause more trouble than it would help.

She took a few squares of sterile gauze from the counter and gently cleaned up the dribbling mess. The ointment she'd watched the doctor apply in a thick layer before was nowhere to be seen, either on his face or on the bandaging. It was as if the wound had eaten it away.

Shaking her head to set aside that ridiculous thought, she pushed the call button. This required more treatment right away.

"No…" Mustang tried to put a hand over hers but it was too late; the intercom crackled and a female voice made an inquiry in return.

His face burned and itched, but it was nothing compared to his back. It seemed that the act of cauterizing the wounds with fire had taken care of the infectious nature of the homunculus; but he had reached only a couple of the exit wounds; there was no time, some impossible to get to no matter how he twisted to reach.

As torturous as it felt, he was grateful to have survived. Fullmetal had warned him. When you see them, attack immediately and don't stop until they're dead. For a pacifist such as Ed, he thought he knew how dire that warning was. He didn't realize how clueless he was until he saw the horribly demonic soul burning behind the false attractiveness of Lust's dark and dangerous eyes.

Fullmetal would place himself in great danger to avoid killing anyone, even an enemy. So Mustang's error was to infer that Ed was somehow lax in defending himself when the boys were abducted, his pacifism giving the enemy the advantage. He had gone forward assuming that his own commitment to necessary violence was the elemental difference that would keep him from suffering any similar fate.

It was clearly not that simple.

The orderly was there, and now the painful process of cleaning out the infected wounds would start all over.

He tried to rein in his reeling mind.

"How's Havoc?"

"Fine, sir," Hawkeye said quickly, preventing the orderly from chiming in before he even finished the slight intake of breath to begin speaking. Looking up from his task, she saw that the young man understood. He silently returned to his work.

"What does fine…urh!"

"Sorry, Colonel Mustang. You may experience some discomfort."

"No shit," Mustang said through clenched jaws. "I need details. How is Havoc?"

"I don't know what you want me to say. He's about the same as you. But with far less infection."

Mustang considered that. He'd been able to do a better job of cauterization with Havoc. So less infection made sense.

He still had the feeling that they were hiding something from him.

"When can I see him?"

"Sir, you're not up to seeing anyone for quite some time." Hawkeye considered his expression of defiance, albeit somewhat diluted by the pain. "When Dr. Gansworth gives you the green light, I'll take you myself."

"I don't need his permission…damn it!"

"I know it hurts, but it has to be cleansed before I re-pack it. Please bear with it," the orderly said firmly.

Hawkeye took his hand, giving his something to grip as the orderly dug in deeper one last time.

Mustang's face, dotted with sweat, lost its bright red flush and went pale. His hand went limp in hers for a moment, the pain surpassing his tolerance enough that he blanked out. The orderly sped up his procedure, finally applying the thick layer of ointment that would battle the infection and ease the pain.

Her eyes swept up to the monitor for reassurance. While he was in distress, his vital signs were no worse than before.

Mustang groaned softly and she let go; his hands went to rub at his face, an attempt to brush away the tears leaking out from the corner of his eyes in a fruitless effort to conceal them.

They wouldn't stop quickly enough.

"They're just watering, don't make anything of this," he managed. It was true. He wasn't breaking down emotionally. The tears were a physical response to the pain.

Hawkeye swallowed hard.

"Ed and Al…they went through so much more than this…I have to apologize."

"Sir, maybe it would be better if you didn't try to talk. You should rest."

"I didn't know…what this was like. I didn't understand. I should have helped them more than I did."

"Sir…"

"It must have been a hundred times worse for them. They're still just kids, damn it."

"Those young men are strong, Colonel. They're safe and unharmed in the shelter you provided them. And I know that they're grateful for your help. Please, try to conserve your strength to concentrate on your own recovery."

"I'll be out of here in no time. You'll see," he said, slowly realizing that a new dose of pain medication was taking effect. It eased his mind as it eased the pain, and before long he was relaxed and mostly quiet.

She left a hand on her sidearm when Gansworth entered the room,

He handed his badge to the highly if not over-protective woman and stated his passcode clearly. He had no time to waste being pinned to the wall for misspeaking the password. She was very strong and serious and he was quite certain the Colonel was safest with her here than anyone. All the more reason to get the two fallen officers into the same semi-private room as soon as possible. Mustang's pressure was stabilizing again. Havoc was immobile but there was little to do for him at this point but wait and watch.

"I believe that we can go ahead and move you and Lieutenant Havoc into shared space."

Hawkeye cringed. It meant that the Colonel would know about Havoc's potential paralysis. Even if the condition cleared up, he would bear the burden of guilt for that injury forever.

"Of course, Doctor," she said with false cheer. "But can I have a word with you? In private?"

Gansworth glanced at the twitching second hand of the wall clock and nodded. The Elrics' sedation would still be sufficient for some time; the orderly should be returning soon from delivering the daily supplies with his report confirming their condition. But barring some grave emergency, he planned to be there when it was time to evaluate the need for continued medication. By his estimate, that would be in about one and one-half to two hours.

Fortuitously, it would provide for enough time to get the Colonel and Lt. Havoc situated together. He thought he'd explained this to Lt. Hawkeye before, but perhaps she had some reservations.

They stood together in the hallway, speaking quietly, unaware of the enemy's steady progress just a short stroll away.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Envy double-knocked and wiped the grin off of his face. The humans here all looked like their panties were in a real twist; the orderly he morphed into always looked a little distracted and serious, so he settled for imitating that look without embellishing it with the grim expression of the day.

Easy enough to get access to the room. The identification process went off without a hitch. He nearly blew it when he laid eyes on Edward, though. He hid the shaking that coursed through his soul, itching to fly to Edward's side and sink his claws deep into the pale, pretty flesh.

The sounds that little worm could make. It was hard to talk for salivating, so he settled for humming as he offloaded the cart. One man on duty. Al, asleep on the bed. Edward hovering over his little brother, defensive, rigid and alert.

Every atom in his existence urged him to power up into his true form and seize his prisoners boldly, snap them up and bring destruction and death to anyone who stood up to stop him from taking what was rightfully his.

Calm down. The rampage was always an option if finessing failed. The goal. Keep the goal in mind. Get both of them out in reasonably good condition, with enough of a lead to work out the questions about Alphonse before the meddlers came charging after them. Envy strongly suspected that the younger Elric was incapable of alchemy and therefore of little consequence. Once that was proven, he'd be dispatched in some creatively satisfying way, with Edward as witness. This would cement Edward's fate. With nothing left to fight for and with full understanding that he was completely and utterly alone in the world, Edward would be his and his alone. Well, he'd share him with Rage, he supposed, but that was just part of the fun.

He gave his head a nearly imperceptible shake to return his concentration fully to the present. It was show time.

"Listen, I have orders to move the Elric brothers to a safer location. I'm to take them to a secret place here on the base. But it's too risky to handle moving both of them at once. I've been instructed to take Alphonse first. He'll need to be disguised as a soldier."

"Wait," Enfield said, shaking his head. "Why haven't I heard about this before? You're taking him? Alone?"

"It's just to a different room here on the base. I mean, it might even be in the same building, I just can't tell you which room. Security, ya know? They won't be apart long. You two will be moving, too, very soon. Someone will come for you and bring you both to meet up."

Enfield looked him up and down. There was no mistake, this was Thompkins – he'd seen the guy dozens of times, the ID was genuine, and for good measure he glanced down at the hem of the white coat – the stitching was in pale blue, barely distinguishable from white. It appeared to be a genuine base hospital coat. The guy checked out – but what about his mission?

"Who gave you these orders?"

Envy thought fast. Wearing this outfit meant he would be working at the medical building. They had slightly different ranks, so he was going out on a limb here.

"I got 'em from my Captain. Hospital orders. I guess they could have been issued by Colonel Mustang since he's ther…"

"Okay, okay," Enfield interrupted; it looked like the guy might inadvertently spill the beans about the Colonel, and Ed would get pretty agitated if he got too much info. They must be short on help if they had this guy doing the escort. He'd been decent at making the beds and giving shots and such, but Enfield had never thought of him as being capable of doing a whole lot more. He wasn't even armed. "So tell me the procedure again."

"Yeah," Ed chimed in, a hand on Al as if he planned to block them if he didn't like what he heard.

"Well…" Envy noticed that Al hadn't moved much. Was he sick or what? But Al had to be the first to go if this was to follow his plan. Otherwise, he'd have to resort to brute force and take them both at once by killing everyone who got in his way.

He nearly scratched his head at that, wondering why he would have opted for anything else. Killing humans was so much fun! Then he remembered Father's directives. Human lives, taken in large numbers, had a very specific use in their ultimate plan. A few here and there, fine, but any killing on a larger scale had to be coordinated so that stones could be either made or recharged.

So back to this annoying need to be subtle.

"Look, Thompkins, if you don't have your orders down pat…"

"No no! No no no, that's not it! I was just making sure that I'm not telling you anything I shouldn't. Okay, here it is. I take Al incognito – once we get him dressed up in uniform, I've even got a mask to cover his face – and get him to the secure room. Once he's all quieted down and everything looks okay, I come back for Ed. At that point you come along and relocate with them and wait for orders. I know it might seem unnecessary, what with sneaking them around when we're in the base for crying out loud, but everyone just wants to make sure they're safe."

"Wait until he calms down? The problem's going to be getting him awake enough to walk," Ed said, patting Al's arm and getting nothing more than a short snore and a slight shift in sleep position. "The stuff hit him a lot harder than it did me."

"Aha. Well. Try shaking him harder or something. I'll let you guys wake him up. He doesn't know me so well. Might upset him." This would be a test of sorts. They were either with him on this, or they would argue.

"Al!" Ed said sharply, giving his brother a really good shake. Damn it! He should have just palmed the pill and tossed it, not given Al a double dose. Now his stupid decision was interfering with a move to keep Al safe! What if he was moved first instead, because of this? They must have felt that the location of their room was somehow compromised to be moving them so suddenly. He couldn't leave for a safer place first, not without his brother. To leave him here helpless…through his own irresponsible action…that was inexcusable!

"Alphonse!"

"Hey, Ed, easy now," Enfield cautioned. Ed's voice was rising, getting a panicky edge. Sudden disruption always set him off, and who knows how far out of hand he might get.

Al groggily pushed at Ed's arms, trying to stop the shaking.

"I'm up, I'm up," he grunted. "Stop already. Wait…what's wrong?"

"It's okay Al. Nothing's wrong," Enfield said. "Ed, let go now. Give him a chance to get his bearings."

Envy stood back and enjoyed the front-row seat. The once-famous, genius alchemists were now treated very much like small children. It was kind of funny, especially since he gladly took credit for their fall from grace.

"You have to wake up, Al. Be alert as you can. We're changing to a different room."
"What?" Al paled. "Why now? What happened?"

"Don't ask questions!" Ed barked. "You need to go. Get up. Shake it off!"

Enfield took the risk of gripping Ed's upper arm and pulled him back out of the younger boy's face.

"I'm gonna ask questions if I have questions!" Al retorted, anger welling up suddenly.

"That's enough, both of you." Enfield was now in between them; Ed was starting to resist. This was not going in the right direction. If they didn't keep moving, this could degenerate into first-class breakdowns for both Elrics, and move or no move, the situation could get dangerous. "Al, it's just a change to maintain maximum security. Thompkins will take you and get you settled, then I'll be bringing Ed. We'll all be together. I promise."

Envy slid his hand into the wide, flat pocket and brought out the hypodermic case, opening it in plain sight for Ed to see. Little Eddie didn't like his medicine. This would either calm him, if he was capable of self-control, or he would lose it completely and this little vial would assure his cooperation. It was a no-lose tactic in his eyes.

Enfield felt Ed stiffen and crooked his head to see what had caused it. The idiot orderly had hypodermics out in plain sight!

"Put that away, man," Enfield growled.

"It's up to him whether he gets this," Thompkins shrugged, but put the case back in his pocket..

"No! I'm in control," Ed cried out, suddenly terrified. With everything going on, he couldn't allow them to compromise his ability to react – and this could leave him completely helpless. "I'm in control!"

"Okay, it's all right. You are. Sit down and he'll see that, Ed. Right now it's hard for him to tell, because your behavior is getting too erratic." Enfield used a firm grip and cautiously moved him away, guiding him over to Al's bed before letting go. It looked like he was still all right as he sat, although he was shaking like a leaf now.

Al was up and confused, dodging instead of catching the blue uniform that sailed his way.

"Please put that on," Envy/Thompkins smiled, staying away from Ed's little drama. Too close and the boy's uncanny knack for sensing his presence might kick in. He was relieved that it hadn't.

Al frowned, his own hands shaking now. He wanted to question and protest and question some more, but it was upsetting Ed far too much. They would drug him, and on top of the drugs they were on already, that couldn't be good for him.

"Go ahead, Al," Enfield encouraged, with a look that evidenced his sympathy for Al's situation.

Al nodded and complied. This was going to be awful for Ed. He hated changing spaces. He'd be so afraid, so upset. And just when he was doing so much better…this could lead to a setback. As bet he could, he'd have to be strong and go without a fuss, to make it easier for Ed.

They'd better have a good reason for this, Al thought angrily. They didn't seem to have any clue as to how difficult this would be for the two of them.

"Do up the buttons. All of them. It's dress code. Leave any undone and you'll be spotted as a fake a mile away," Enfield instructed helpfully.

"What about our things?"

"They'll be taken care of," Envy smiled. Enfield had taken up a position that had Ed cornered, easily blocking him from any move he might make to interfere with their path to the door. "Come on. No time to waste. Here, put this on."

Al adjusted the blue hat – for naught, as the orderly yanked the brim down to conceal his eyes. An ID was draped around his neck. "You'll have to give a passcode. Yours is yellow 6 neck 17. Can you remember that?"

Al nodded.

"We have to go now."

Sporting a dead man's uniform and ID, Al stumbled into the hallway, breathless and feeling out of synch with reality. As they entered the hall, Enfield's parting words were cut off by the slamming door. A mask made of a strange, warm substance placed over Al's face made it nearly impossible to see.

"Don't touch the mask. I'll guide you. Move it, Alphonse. Just do as I say and we'll be there before you know it." Envy's living "mask" formed the face of the same soldier he'd taken the uniform and ID from, and if he was clever enough in choosing their path, he should be able to get them out without any close calls. This was all going better than he could have hoped, and he chuckled in delight.

"Why is that funny?" Al asked, startled at how thin and frightened his voice sounded.

Hauled along sharply with his vision largely obstructed, he stopped talking and concentrated on staying upright. The sudden disruption served to cut into the drug-induced haze but the weight of it persisted, making it difficult to move along as briskly as expected.

His escort decided against any more small talk, and gave no answer to his question.