Dear Story: This is not what I meant when I asked for inspiration back. Please let me go. I have things to do.

Jokes aside, I'm VERY glad to be back. There are scenes in here I've been looking forward to for LITERALLY YEARS.

(Funny-but-also-not-funny aside: Years ago, somebody gave me trouble over the Marcoh and Scar scene where Marcoh got eaten a few chapters back, and told people that I'd sent them that scene to beta as some sort of anti-Scarcoh shipping thing. Never mind that I'd given them a heads-up about the content. And never mind that the plan was ALWAYS the below. No, it's never going to be Scarcoh, romantically that ship does kind of give me hives, but I'd never send somebody something like that as a deliberate thing? How many levels of self-absorbed do you have to BE on, honestly. Anyway, that's actually one of the things that made HOTP hard to write for a while – and thus made the payoff wait like, three-four years.)

TW for mental illness/ableism, PTSD, sibling physical assault, misgendering/deadnaming, death, violence.

Song is by Neighbor Lady.

~38~

There's so much pressure building up inside my chest
Tense and nervous but you know I'm trying my best
I've seen my bones breaking a thousand times
Stitching up my skin with a thread from your bedside table

-Let It Bleed

It was surprisingly peaceful here. Tim Marcoh wasn't sure what he'd expected – more screaming, perhaps, or chaos. Instead, he was standing in a field of almost waist-high grass, the preternaturally still air carrying the faint smell of smoke under the pollen.

"No! Sit! Bad dog!" A peal of laughter echoed across the field, and the little girl he'd seen before tumbled out of the tall grass, chasing after a white blur. The blur stood still for a moment, and now Tim could see it more clearly – a big white mountain dog, nearly three times the girl's size. "Alexanderrrrrrr…"

Tim just stood and watched. He knew where he was, of course. The sky was a pale pinkish-red instead of blue, and just beyond the fuzzy borders of the little island was… something else. Several someones, perhaps.

He was dead. Or at least, as close to it as he supposed he would ever get.

Still, it wasn't what he had expected at all.

"What did you expect, doctor?" came the calm, gravelly voice from behind him.

Tim sighed, shrugged. "Oblivion, I suppose," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

"As if I'd be so kind." The man crossed his arms. Here, the vivid scar that crossed his face was barely a ghost – still there, the imprint on his soul indelible – but otherwise, he was unmarked. No scar on his torso, either, and his hair was a soft brown instead of bright white. Otherwise, though, he was the same man, with broad shoulders, dusky Ishvalan skin, and eyes the same colour as the sky.

Tim couldn't help a smile at that, especially as the little girl and her dog came crashing their direction. The dog sat at the man's feet, tongue wagging out, and the man gave him a nudge with his foot, wordlessly telling him to go on and play. "Who is this, then? A memory?"

The man just glared at him.

"If we're to speak of kindness, I might as well ask," Tim added.

"…She was in pain. Both of them. Another cruel experiment."

That last part was intended as a jab, Tim knew, and it was a well-deserved one. He didn't bother getting angry. Why should he? The man was right. "Then it's a kindness you've done. Was this here before? This, ah – oasis."

"Yes." When the man realized Tim wanted more of an answer, he scoffed. "Maintaining a sense of self when surrounded by hundreds of other souls is no small thing, doctor. I'm lucky to have my training and Ishvala's guidance."

"Yes, you're a monk, aren't you?"

If the man noticed the present tense or what it implied, it wasn't possible. "We aren't going to be friends, doctor. You're no less dead for your mind being here. You're just too valuable a resource to waste."

Tim still wasn't convinced. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "What's her name?"

"Nina Tucker."

"I see. Will there be any trouble if I-"

"No. But I have no issue with throwing you into the storm if you cause more trouble than you're worth."

Then the man disappeared. Back to the surface world, Tim imagined, back beyond the storm of the Stone.


He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. No damage done, this night at least – he didn't fully remember falling asleep, but he remembered climbing into the tunnel, and the cold of the earth below him was soothing.

Equally soothing was knowing that Gluttony had caused no damage. As long as he fed the beast something, it was content to stay put while he was asleep… as long as nothing wandered into its path by mistake. He had tried reasoning with it before, only to find a childlike void coupled to its unending hunger. So instead he simply tried to keep what he could out of its path.

Unbidden, he thought of the incident in East City again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. At least the only people hurt had been soldiers – he didn't waste much in the way of regret on those. Except there'd been that boy.

We're not done here.

Not today.

Stop, he reminded himself. A dog of the military was of no more concern to him than their rats.

What now? He didn't know. He knew who his target was now – but not where to find him. Nor did he know where the rest of the experiments took place – he wasn't fool enough to believe they'd ended.

Marcoh's voice swam up to meet him, with the timbre of a memory even though it was new information. Lab 5. It was freely given, not taken; a gift, and attempt at apology.

Even though he still hated the man, he could not suppress the small, sad smile that came to his face. There was a world of difference between a hostage from whom he had to extract information, piece by piece, and a captive of sorts who seemed eager to help.

Still, even the eagerness was suspect.

He had no other clues to follow, though, so Lab 5 it was – wherever that may be.

He got the distinct sense that the doctor was laughing at him. "Are you going to continue being amused," he said in annoyance, "or are you going to give me a map?"


You can't come in, Mom's asleep.

You never let me see her anymore.

She just… sleeps a lot. Fine, you can come in.

Will. Will, I think something's wrong.

She'd just been sleeping. She'd been up and eating a few hours before. You'd helped her eat, the bones in her hands sticking through papery skin, and she'd promised to make it up to you when she was better, told you that you should go to school, you shouldn't miss so much –

I'm getting the doctor! Mom! Mom, I'm getting the doctor-

You can't, you can't! She said not to!

I'm going anyway, and you can't stop me-

You'd pushed. For a deathly moment, you'd thought the little pile at the bottom of the stairs wouldn't get up. You'd heard something snap.

Then, she got up, glaring at you, and ran off.

Fine. Go on and run.

Will came out of uneasy sleep with the sense that he was forgetting something. Alex, yeah, Alex isn't a girl anymore, he'd never really been one, and the only things that stopped Will from forgetting that Alex had ever worn dresses at all were these dreams and the therapy sessions where he had to pretend he'd had a sister at all.

The floor was moving.

He was on a train.

He wasn't supposed to be on a train.

Will sprang to his feet – or rather, he tried – and found out with an unpleasant jolt that his hands were cuffed behind him.

"I'm sorry. Not the most pleasant awakening."

Everything else came rushing back, and Will snapped his head back, vision half-obscured by his untied hair. "You son of a bitch," he snarled at Armstrong, who was sitting across from him with his hands in his lap. "You drugged me."

"I apologize."

"I'm sure you fucking do. How about I make you properly sorry?" He tried to clap his hands – and found that the asshole had put a brick between his hands. "…Wow. That's the trashiest workaround I've ever seen."

"I doubt it'll stop you for long. Just long enough for you to calm down."

"What, more than the sedative did?"

"The sedative stopped you from shooting yourself in the head, or me."

Will fell silent at that. He caught sight of Selim sitting over on the other side of the bench, across from him. He didn't say anything, but Will could feel the disapproval anyway. Disapproval at who, he wasn't sure. He hoped it was directed towards Armstrong; he figured it was much more likely at him.

"Where's Alex?"

Armstrong patted the briefcase next to him. "In here. He suggested it, and it seemed a reasonable compromise to me. A safeguard, if you will, since neither of you seem to trust me."

Will didn't respond to that, either. The only thing he could think to say was to explain how much his brain hated him, and he didn't feel like attempting that, not right now. Instead, he had to deal with the immense sense of shame sitting at his core – and next to it, not gone, the fury and misery of having been lied to. Of having been so close.

"I'm guessing Solaris gave that to you," he settled on, finally.

"Valjean did, but with her approval, yes."

"Great," he breathed. That felt good. "Lovely. And the handcuffs?"

"Selfishly, I was hoping not to be punched once you woke up. I'll gladly uncuff you if you promise not to hurt anybody. Or yourself."

Will glanced over at Selim again, who was quietly staying out of the whole thing. "Yeah. Yeah, I promise. I just – got stupid." Being restrained was making the misery worse. At least with his hands free, he wouldn't feel like a criminal.

Armstrong reached behind him, unlocking the handcuffs so quickly that Will wondered if he could have just broken them. They didn't seem particularly sturdy, an assertion underlined once he got a look at them. He guessed the message had been sent, and it wasn't like Armstrong needed handcuffs to restrain him.

He tucked his hands under his legs, uncomfortable at the sight of them without his fingerless gloves. He had those packed somewhere – he supposed he'd unconsciously absorbed some of that habit from Solaris, although he still didn't know where she'd gotten it. He didn't want to think about Solaris. Didn't want to think about her and Valjean, thinking about how to control him, how to subdue him-

"So where we headed? Back to Central?" He couldn't quite keep the venom out of his voice. "Not like I have a choice in the matter."

"Will, I-"

"Fullmetal," he corrected icily, gazing out of the window.

Armstrong sighed quietly. "I promise upon my family line. I would never have used it if lives were not in danger."

"I know." How could he possibly explain to Armstrong that that was the problem? He knew perfectly well that Solaris would never have approved it otherwise, or given it to somebody who wouldn't stick to that.

The issue was that he'd ever given somebody that concern.

The issue was that he'd proven them right.

"I'll, uh, leave you two alone a while." Armstrong rose from his seat. Will watched his reflection, noting sourly that he made a point of taking the briefcase with him. Which meant Alex was gone, too. Which meant-

Oh.

Those two.

Selim shuffled across the bench, giving Will an uneasy smile. "Hey."

"Hey." He paused for a breath. "Listen, maybe you should go home. I-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I-" Will stared at Selim incredulously, long enough that Selim pushed his glasses self-consciously up his face. "Ok, first off, since when do you wear those?"

"I was reading. They're reading glasses."

"Second of all, I pointed a gun at you, and you're not, I don't know, a little more concerned?"

"Well, you didn't fire it."

"I was sedated!"

"Are you trying to tell me you would have shot me?" Selim replied evenly.

Will opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling like a lost guppy fish, then sat back, scowling and crossing his arms. "No," he sighed, "just that I wasn't… I don't know."

"You weren't in your right mind."

"I hate that phrase," he mumbled, staring out the window again.

Selim let the quiet settle for a few moments. "Can I ask why?"

"It's…" He shrugged. He didn't really like talking about what his brain told him. Even with Dr. Holland he had to keep some parts secret, and he wasn't sure how much he trusted doctor-patient confidentiality. Enough to keep him sane. Weirdly enough, he actually kind of missed the guy, for all the work he'd put into dodging the sessions. "I don't know. Right mind is the kind of thing you say about somebody who's drunk, or got a big case of the stupid."

"Eh… the second seems right."

"It's not too late for me to shoot you, you know." It came out before he thought about it, but to his eternal relief, Selim chuckled, even if his eyes held a hint of reproach. "I just. I don't like it."

"What happened?"

"What, back there? I dunno. I got paranoid and one thing led to ano-"

"I mean, while you were gone. I haven't seen you in years, Will. What happened?"

Will blinked. It'd never occurred to him that the change had been that drastic. In his head, he'd always been crazy. But he guessed he didn't have the same perspective Selim did. "Life. Stuff."

"That's not much of an answer."

"I don't have much to give you. Last time you saw me I'd beaten a man to death and was half-catatonic. From where I'm standing, this is an improvement."

"It was self-defense, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." The lie still burned. "Still happened."

Selim nodded thoughtfully. He was still disturbed, Will could tell, and who could blame him? They hadn't even talked about the word that loomed between them like some ghastly apparition, what some country ministers claimed was a mortal sin and others called the ultimate cowardice. Suicide.

"I still think you should go home."

"And I told you, I'm not leaving. You might be convinced that you're a danger to me, but I know you're not. I'm more worried, frankly, about what you'll do if I leave."

"I'm tempted to send you home myself-" Will grumbled – then stopped with a brusque laugh. "Ahhh, god, no."

"What? What is it?" Selim sounded so concerned.

"I hate it when I understand how adults feel." Solaris had said much the same thing, hadn't she? "I hate her so much sometimes," he mumbled into his hand.

"Who?"

"My commanding officer."

Selim snickered. "She sounds cool, honestly."

"She's not. She's bossy, and mean, and always up in my business." And okay with drugging me, apparently, he added mentally, but was that really a surprise? Solaris was many things, but morally upstanding had never been one of them. That much she'd always been honest about.

The train came to a stop, and Will caught sight of somebody in the crowd who tugged at his memory, faintly familiar. He was tall, with suspenders and a mop of white-blonde hair – but before Will could get more of a glance at him, he was gone, walking away from the train.

A moment later, there was a crash and a thump – and a yell of "Stop, thief" that definitely didn't come from Armstrong.

Selim and Will glanced at each other and leapt to their feet, pushing their way out of the doors and into the growing crowd. "Move aside – oh, shit."

Armstrong lay, only half-conscious, on the boards of the station. He was bleeding from the head, and he lifted his arm, wincing. "The briefcase- he took the briefcase-"

Selim got to his knees, already asking around for bandages, but Will ran off the platform. "Alex! Alex!"

There was no trace. Barely any footprints. Just the woods in front of him, who had swallowed up the thief like he'd never existed.


Alex knew something was wrong immediately – Armstrong knew better than to jostle him around a briefcase full of dangerous alchemic material – but he didn't realize just how wrong until the voices started.

"Good work, Al. That was nicely done."

"You think so?"

"I mean, you weren't followed, were you?"

"Of course not." The first voice was almost offended by the suggestion. Alex hated to prove him wrong. Part of him wanted to see where he was getting taken –

-but most of him really, really didn't want things to go that far.

Sorry, Armstrong. I think this counts as an emergency. He wrestled one of the vials out of its place and tugged the cork out of place. And –

And the moment it hit his wooden hands, he could feel it. No circles necessary. No balancing.

Holy shit.

He destroyed the briefcase's buckle, and encircled the would-be thieves in stone – stone that came from nothing, with no resulting weakness in the underlying ground, and it felt good – and pushed the pillars up and up and up, until Will couldn't help but see it.

He could do anything.

Then the briefcase opened, as he'd hoped for… and as he tumbled out, the stone slipped from his useless hands. He fell to the ground, suddenly aware of how small he was, how stupid, and the stone rolled lazily across the sparse grass, coming to a stop at the feet of one of the thieves.

He laughed, bending down to pick it up. "I have to admit, that's resourceful. Sorry, Al. Looks like you were followed after all."

"How was I supposed to know he'd be inside?" complained the other one, looking faintly embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it." The first thief looked down at Alex. "Now, you – you are the one I've been wondering about." He squatted down, smirking at him. "Alexandra Elric, I presume?"

"Alexander," he spat.

"Alexander. That makes more sense. You're a hard guy to track down, Alexander." The thief grinned, teeth sharp in his mouth and purple eyes glinting. "You've got a grave in Rizenbul with the wrong name on it. Your brother talks a good game about how he works alone. And yet, on every single one of his exploits, there's the mark of a second person. Times he couldn't be in two places at once. Alchemy that shows a more careful hand." His finger poked Alex's stomach. "I like the arrays, by the way. Smart."

"Thank you," Alex replied automatically, still looking the stranger up and down. He had a gracefulness to him that he didn't trust – not on somebody who was stealing Marcoh's briefcase. Long hair just as golden as Will's bobbed over his shoulder, tied in a high ponytail, and the red tattoos that covered his skin curved in some indecipherable pattern.

"No, I'm serious. I never would have thought about it – wood not having the same limitations as skin. And I mean, I guess you can't draw particularly fast like this."

"Ed," the other thief cleared his throat.

"Fine," he complained. "Back to business."

"If you mean stealing these, I'm afraid I can't let you do that." He may not have been able to hold the Stones properly, but he still had his normal arrays.

"Oh, that's not optional, sorry. But-" Ed – assuming that was actually his name – sighed. "My master has an offer for you."

"…What? What does that even mean? Who are you?"

The other figure took over, especially as Ed rolled his eyes. "Amestris is rotten to the core. You know that, now."

"How did – You've been following us!"

"Well, duh. Just figure that out now?" Ed clearly couldn't help adding. Al shot him a look that Alex found bizarrely familiar.

"Our master cares about bringing those responsible to justice. But please understand… this is for you. Not Will."

Alex felt his heart drop. He was about to ask why – then stopped.

Ed raised his eyebrows, snickering a little as he stood up. "Yeah, that answers itself, doesn't it?"

"I don't – I don't feel comfortable keeping this from him."

Ed shrugged. "You decide. But face it –" The grin came back. "Part of you's enjoying that we found you first. Isn't it?"

"I don't…" Alex petered off. He was having a very hard time coming up with a response to that. Especially after Will trying to shoot himself in the head.

"Alright, so, here's how this is gonna go. We're leaving, with this briefcase. Which, by the way, you've made much harder for us to carry, thanks for that, by the way."

"Not in a million years."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Al, make us an opening."

Al nodded, drew back his fist and punched a hole in the stone like it was butter.

Ed picked up Alex and put him in the palm of his hand. "And you are staying here." He flicked him into the air with a finger and thumb.

Alex resigned himself to the sensation of falling, mostly offended at the indignity.

Then – with no explanation, for the first time in three years –

He blacked out.