Chapter 8: Regrets and Despair

Just a reminder that dream sequences are in italics, just like inner thoughts. I hope everyone had a great week and that you were able to see family, even if by Zoom (like me). We're having a gingerbread house contest via Zoom today. Wish me luck!

[And I made the mistake of listening to the FMA:B soundtrack while editing this… bad choice… especially when the music pairs well with the scene]

Well, it's stage 4 of the 5 stages of grief… so, yeah…

He saw Al's back disappear through a doorway and saw the door shut behind him.

He knew this dream.

Why did his mind decide to torment him with the same dream, over and over?

For a moment, he saw the shadowed figure of that bastard's back disappearing through a doorway as he stared up at the much taller man, and he saw a coffin lid close on his mother. He saw Al disappearing through the doorway, and he saw a small dented piece of metal, with a smeared blood seal in the center, hit the floor.

Then the blood was overwhelming. It coated the floor and in the center of all that blood was the bloodied and broken and twisted body of Roy Mustang. The blood on the floor began to move and take shape, drawing lines…, very, very familiar lines…

No! Wake up! Wake up!

He could not see that circle again…, not with Roy in the center…! No…this was a dream!

WAKE UP!

A hand gently caressed his forehead, and the scene changed again. He was at home in Resembool. His mother, whole and well, stood over him, her face smiling, while sunlight drifted in the window behind her.

Edward blinked. He was in his room in Mustang's home.

Edward blinked again. A hand was laid on his shoulder. He could not see well in the dark, but he knew Mustang was there. He felt ashamed. He did not want to be seen as weak, but he knew at that moment, he was far from strong. It was humiliating, but somehow he knew Mustang would not think less of him just because he had nightmares. So, for once, he allowed one, only one, tear to escape, trailing down his face as the warmth from Mustang's hand began to seep into him as he drifted back off to sleep.

Mustang sighed as his chest ached for more reasons than one. First, his wound was still healing, and he was supposed to be resting. Second, the boy in front of him had started to dig his way deeper into his chest. Hughes had talked about the little devils, although devils was not the word Hughes used, worming their way into one's heart and mind. Mustang never really expected it to happen with Edward, of all people.

Mustang remembered the first time he felt the shift between what he felt before and what he felt at that moment. The very first time he felt it, they were in the office, searching through files to find Mangele, but he had suppressed the feeling at the time. However, once Al was killed, he allowed the switch to flip. Despite Edward's growing agitation and recklessness as they searched for Mangele and the events in Resit, Mustang had held on to that feeling. If anything, it only grew. Edward needed someone so that he would know he was not alone.

He's family now… not a just subordinate. There's no denying it. Ed is my kid now, one that I need to protect.

As morning light streamed through the windows on the second morning since returning, Edward rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head. For the first time in a long time, Edward felt like he slept peacefully. As his mind tried to make sense of his surroundings, he needed to remind himself he was still in Mustang's guest room.

His mind rolled over the previous day. The gunman, Travis, had talked, but there was little they could do at the moment to catch Mangele. Edward had to accept that his anger had helped no one. Furthermore, there was nothing left with which for him to bargain to retrieve Al's soul, and he still felt responsible for Mustang's near death.

Edward wondered at his restful sleep. He had not slept through an entire night since Alphonse first disappeared. With Al's death, Edward's sleep had only deteriorated and then deteriorated even further with Mustang's near death. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Edward neither remembered his dreams from the previous night nor waking to Mustang's presence. Yet, despite feeling as though he had slept well, he did not want to leave the bed. With all his anger gone, the weight of his brother's death was suffocating.

Mustang sat on the couch in the living room, his elbows propped on his knees, and his fingers laced together. Mustang knew that nothing would be the same, at least for himself, after the realizations from the previous night.

Mustang remembered the first time they went on a mission after they began the manhunt for Mangele. They were looking for an information broker who happened to have a connection to Mangele's acting instructor from years ago. In the process, Edward managed to destroy the entire back balcony of the pawnshop that served as the information broker's facade for business. True to form, Edward bucked authority but sullenly fixed the balcony, all the while calling Mustang every name he had for him under the sun.

At that moment, Mustang could not understand why he felt the tug to comfort and protect Edward. Edward was the typical, destructive, and annoying brat he always was, but something was different even then. Mustang knew the source behind Edward's destructive behavior was coming from recent events.

Even though the mission did not give them a lead to Mangele's location, it did provide them with the information concerning how Mangele might have obtained the chimeras. Apparently, in Mangele's brief stint as an actor, he went to Liore. He saw the temple of Leto and met the priest. However, now that the priest was dead, they could only rely on the broker's information.

The broker informed them that, just before Edward's own journey to the Liore, in fact, Mangele had asked to be put into contact with the priest. They could only assume that Mangele obtained the chimeras then.

Edward and Mustang had gone on two more missions before their mission in Resit, and Edward's recklessness had only grown. From Havoc's reports from his missions with Edward, Edward's actions and attitude were very similar to those while with Mustang. By the time they were in Resit, Edward's recklessness had begun to worry Mustang rather than irritate him. Under normal circumstances, Mustang might have sent Edward on a mission to capture Maverick on his own. However, with the potential for Mangele's involvement and Edward's emotional state, all he felt was worry when he discovered Maverick might have a connection to the case.

Despite his growing irritation and worry, Mustang also found the largest part of him wanted to help Edward more and more. Edward seemed to be using his anger to bury everything he was feeling. Mustang knew how destructive that anger could be. He felt that anger toward Hughes's killer. Yet, he did not want Edward to go down the same path as himself, hypocritical as it was. Edward was always reckless, but now it stemmed from a very different root, and that was what truly disconcerted Mustang.

Hawkeye arrived later in the morning before going to work, but without any new information. The manhunt was still ongoing. She checked Mustang's wounds and determined he was fine on his own but insisted he rest for the duration of the time the doctor ordered, even if she said it with a grimace. Since Edward healed the wounds' exterior, their primary concern was allowing his insides to recover fully. They had to be sure that everything was okay.

"How is Edward?"

"He had a rough night," Mustang ran both hands through his hair. "He was tossing and turning and calling out in his sleep. It was enough to wake me up, but I can't say if he was fully lucid. I don't know if he even fully woke up. I tried to calm him, and it seemed to work, but," Mustang paused, "I'm not sure."

Hawkeye hid a small smile, "Well, you can ask him about how he slept when he wakes up. I'll go make a pot of coffee."

Mustang only nodded.

After Hawkeye left, Mustang ate breakfast, but Edward did not appear from his room. Around lunch, Mustang decided enough was enough. Edward needed to leave the room at some point. He needed to take care of himself.

Mustang lightly knocked on the door.

Edward did not answer.

Mustang knocked again, this time more loudly, and he received a muffled, "What," for his efforts.

"It's lunchtime, Edward. You need to eat."

"Not hungry," came the muffled reply through the door.

Mustang sighed, "Edward, come out. I can't let you stay in there all day. You need to eat. If you don't, I'll bring the food to you, and I won't knock next time."

Mustang heard shuffling through the door, and then the door opened. Edward was still in yesterday's clothes.

"Come on," Mustang jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, "Let's go eat."

Edward silently closed the door behind him and followed Mustang. Lunch consisted of sandwiches that they ate in silence. Afterward, Edward returned to his room. Mustang watched him leave with a sigh. The day passed without incident and without a word from Hawkeye. Edward skipped dinner.

That night, Edward's tossing and turning woke Mustang again, and he wearily went to calm the young alchemist.

Mustang sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Edward did not open his eyes but turned toward Mustang's hand as if seeking warmth and sighed.

Mustang smiled. He knew the nightmare had been circumvented. Edward's bangs fell over his closed eyes, and Mustang moved his hand so he could brush them aside. However, when his hand left the boy's shoulder, Edward's face scrunched in discomfort but relaxed as soon as Mustang's fingers brushed his temple. Mustang kept up the movement and watched in wonder as the teen relaxed further and further as he sunk into a deeper and more peaceful sleep.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore," Mustang whispered before leaving to return to his room.

Mustang woke early, despite the restless night. He could not seem to sleep past his internal clock's alarm. Mustang vaguely wondered how long Edward would stay.

I don't mind the brat staying, but it makes me feel helpless that he won't talk and keeps to his room. From the nightmares, it seems like he's really suffering. He's so upset about his brother and what happened in Resit. He went from being a reckless spit-fire to this subdued…. I'm worried it has to do with my being shot.

Guilt ate at Mustang. Mustang pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower.

When Hawkeye arrived that morning, she came bearing news.

"Maverick was spotted just outside West City. We've expanded the search to include those cities for Mangele as well. Although we know Mangele and Maverick are not related, we thought it would be best. It seems Maverick jumped the freight train going west. A train worker spotted him, and since they were coming from South City, they were made aware of the situation by the MPs in the south."

Mustang's heart leapt. The closer they were to finding Maverick, the sooner the Fuhrer would allow them to re-focus their efforts toward finding Mangele, and maybe he would be able to pull Edward out of his despondent state.

Hawkeye watched him closely, "Sir, are you resting properly? You look like you didn't sleep last night."

"Well," Mustang hedged. He did not want to reveal that Edward was still waking him up with his nightmares. "I didn't sleep well. I'll get more rest today and sleep tonight."

As Hawkeye stood by the door to leave, she turned and added her last thoughts,

"Sir, it's only your third day home. You have four more. Take advantage of them because after they are over, you will be back to signing all of your paperwork."

Mustang groaned and tried to hide his grin at the next thought as he heard the door close.

Thank you, doctor, for this glorious reprieve.

Edward slept through breakfast again. He thought he had a good night's sleep. Yet, he felt tired and lethargic. Edward did not want to see anyone, not even Mustang. He was beginning to suspect that Mustang had helped him avoid the nightmares that should have plagued his sleep over the last two nights. He could come to no other explanation for the lack of nightmares. All the same, he wanted to be left alone, and he dreaded Mustang's call that lunch was ready.

Now that Al is gone, does it matter? What should I do now that there is no point in regaining my body? After all these years…, joining the army and suffering through automail surgery…? All of it was to restore our bodies to make everything right again. All of it was to save my little brother, and now that he's gone, my reason is gone.

Edward's eyes drifted to the door.

Would Mustang miss me if I left? Would he want me to still try and regain my body?

When Edward thought about moving forward, he could not find the will to move. He wondered if this was how Rose felt. Edward remembered his words to her, and he felt like a hypocrite. He remembered how he felt in the wheelchair before Mustang came for him the first time.

Could I pull myself together? Would it be easier if I just forgot? How many chances passed that I didn't take advantage of to be a proper older brother?

Can I try one more time?

Hawkeye is leading the search. Should I leave it to them, since I seem to mess everything up? Or should I do what I should as a big brother and find Mangele myself, even if I can't even trust myself?

Lunchtime rolled around again, and with it came Mustang's knock at the door. Edward glared at the door but went to open it. He wanted to avoid a confrontation with Mustang and did not want to hear Mustang threaten him to eat.

When Edward opened the door, Mustang stood there looking at him, surprised he did not have to make a request or a demand. Edward shrugged, and Mustang took it as a positive sign as he turned and walked toward the kitchen without a word. Edward followed a few paces behind. The plates on the table contained sandwiches again. Edward could only stomach half the sandwich before he felt as if he could not eat anymore. To avoid any questions, he muttered a quick thanks before leaving the plate and half-eaten sandwich where it lay and retreated to his room.

Mustang watched him go with growing concern but said nothing.

I'm not going to be able to ask about how he's doing at this rate.

Edward did come out for dinner but only ate the last half of his sandwich, which Mustang had wrapped in the hopes of encouraging Edward to eat more.

Thankfully, Mustang was able to rest that afternoon. He planned to stay up a bit later so he could be awake and ready if Edward needed him, rather than have Edward wake him. His foresight was well-founded because only a few hours passed before he heard Edward tossing as turning.

Grassy hills filled his vision. The charred remains of a house loomed on top of the nearest hill. He was drawn against his will up to the top of the hill. A single photo lay unburned for all the world to see in the middle of the smoldering remains.

In the photo, a man held a young boy in his hands, a single tear trailing down the man's face. The boy in his hands stared forward, toward the camera. Next to the man, a young woman held an even younger child on her hip. The child looked on with curious eyes. The woman was smiling.

Edward felt bile rise in his throat, but a shadow behind him laid a hand on his shoulder and distracted him from the picture of what could have been. Then, all went dark.

When Edward opened his eyes again, light filtered through the blinds in Mustang's guest bedroom.

My bedroom.

Mustang woke up feeling rested. The previous night, he was able to reach Edward before he tangled himself in his sheets or sank deeper into the nightmare. He had stayed with Edward, sitting on the side of the bed for a while before leaving for his room. When he knew that the boy was sleeping better, it made him feel like he was returning the favors done for him after Ishval. After the war, Mustang found sleeping difficult, and others helped him chase away the demons that plagued his dreams. Now, he could return the favor by helping Edward.

When Mustang left his room to shower, he found the bathroom door closed and the sound of water coming from inside. Mustang blinked a few times but smiled and went to make a pot of coffee.

Hawkeye arrived soon after and stopped short at the smell of coffee that permeated the apartment. Since returning from Resit, this was the first time Mustang had made coffee before she arrived.

Both adults sat at the table, and soon Edward peered into the living room from the hall. When the young alchemist caught sight of them, Mustang waved Edward over, and he slipped into a chair at the table.

"We were able to confirm Maverick's presence in West City, and officials are moving to capture him today."

Edward's eyes widened at the news. He began to regret holing himself up in his room. He was present the first morning and remembered the conversation with Hawkeye, but he had slept through the last few meetings with the woman and had barely given Mustang the time of day.

"If the plan works, Maverick will be transferred here, to Central, for questioning."

Mustang nodded, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Sir," she nodded back.

After some casual conversation and finishing her coffee, Hawkeye excused herself and left.

"They found Maverick?" Edwards' voice sounded rough as if he had forgotten how to use it over the past few days.

"Yes, he was seen by a train engineer on the westbound train from South City. I meant to tell you earlier…"

"It's okay. I wasn't… in the mood."

Mustang studied Edward for a moment, "I know."

"I'll be in my room."

"Do you want to take some books with you?"

Mustang suggested reading in hopes that Edward would show interest in something beyond his few questions concerning the case. Edward just shook his head and left for his room. As Edward walked away, Mustang felt the questions he had for the young alchemist die in his throat.

Mustang was surprised that Edward did not want to read any of the alchemy books that lined Mustang's shelves. While Ed was focused on finding Mangele before Mustang was shot, he would still read the books at Mustang's apartment between missions. However, since they returned from Resit so Mustang could rest and finish healing, Edward had grown more and more isolated and ate less and less. Mustang had hoped that Edward waking up and showering earlier was a sign that he might be doing better, but he was wrong.

Mustang sighed, stood, and picked up the phone in the kitchen. He would call Pinako and see if she had any advice. He just hoped he would come out of the conversation without being killed. He was sure if anyone could find a way to kill someone from the other side of the phone, Pinako could.

Mustang gently knocked on Edward's door. Surprisingly, when Edward returned to his room after the meeting with Hawkeye, he had left the door ajar.

"Edward, we need to talk."

Edward mumbled into his pillow.

"Ed."

At Mustang's use of his name, Edward turned his head so he could see Mustang with one eye.

"May I come in?"

Edward hesitated and then nodded. Mustang moved into the room and situated himself on the edge of the bed.

"Ed, I know that you miss your brother, and I know this has been a confusing time, but you need to tell someone."

"Talking is overrated."

Tears formed in the corners of Edward's eyes.

"Yeah, I know," Mustang nodded.

Mustang placed a hand on Edward's back, and when Edward did not flinch away but relaxed, Mustang made small circular movements with his thumb.

Edward sighed and seemed to sink into the bed, relaxing far more than Mustang had ever seen while awake since Alphonse died. He seemed more relaxed than Mustang had personally ever seen of the teen, but soon Edward's face scrunched.

"I just…, I just messed everything up. I messed up, Al. I messed up fixing things." Edward's hands clenched, "I messed up, saving him. I messed up avenging him, and it almost cost you…"

Mustang moved his hand to grip Edward's shoulder, "you're still learning. I also fell into Mangele's trap at the warehouse. I could have brought you back so we could get backup when facing Mangele. That was not your fault. That was an error in my judgment."

"Stop!" Edward shot up to a sitting position and knelt on the bed as Mustang's hand fell.

"Don't! Don't try to take the blame for my mistakes!"

Mustang lifted his hand to re-grip Edward's shoulder and pulled the boy to his side. He let go only to wrap his arm around him in a side-hug. Edward gave a muffled yelp as he lost his balance and wound up almost falling, but managed to shift himself so he could sit lean against Mustang's side.

"No, Ed. You do not need to take the blame for things outside your control, and you most certainly should not take the blame for things that are my responsibility."

"But…, Al's my responsibility."

"No, Ed. You may be his older brother, and, yes, you have that responsibility. However, as your superior officer, keeping you safe, and subsequently, your brother, is my responsibility. If anything, I at least hold some of the blame. So, please, Ed, don't take it all on yourself. I can carry it too. You're not alone in this."

A sob escaped Edward, and he buried his face into Mustang's side as he lifted his hands to grip Mustang's shirt. Mustang shifted his arm and rested his chin on top of the boy's head.

Mustang continued in a whisper, "I should have told you a long time ago. You are not alone. You have me, and you have the rest of the team too."

Edward's shoulders shook, and the weight that he had been carrying since he first realized Al was missing seemed to lessen. Through the tears, eventually, Edward's eyes closed, and his breathing evened out. Mustang moved the sleeping Edward to lay him on the bed. A small smile played on his face as Mustang left to go to the kitchen. Now, it was time to implement the second part of the plan he concocted after speaking to Pinako.

He was making stew for lunch.

Edward woke up to the scent of stew, filling the apartment, and he slipped into the kitchen before Mustang had to call him. Now, more so than that morning, Mustang hoped Edward's initiative to leave his room, with the added interest in food, was a good sign.

Over lunch, they discussed random topics, which continued sporadically throughout the afternoon. Dinner was a quiet affair. It seemed that after so many days of staying in his room and his emotional struggles, Edward could only talk so much. Mustang was pleased that, at the least, Edward sought to be in the same room. When Edward also offered a soft goodnight before leaving to go to sleep, Mustang was eternally grateful.

Sunlight cast shadows on the far wall as Mustang stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Obsidian eyes then wandered to the clock on the wall. He had two more mornings at home before he had to spend them preparing to go to the office. He hoped that by then, Edward would feel up to joining him. Mustang thought that if Edward spent his time searching for Mangele, it would be far better for the teen than sitting at home.

I won't be around to get the kid to eat if he's not ready by the time I go back to the office. He's by no means better, but at least he let me a bit closer, and while he was awake, no less.

Mustang walked down the hall, and when he was almost to the kitchen, he stopped. He turned slightly and took in the sight. There was Edward. Sleeping on the couch, with his stomach out no less, and an alchemy book on the floor beside him. Mustang's eyes flicked up. The blanket was still draped over the top of the couch.

Why is he out here? Mustang almost groaned. Edward will catch a cold, sleeping like that.

Mustang sighed with resignation, walked over, took the blanket, and draped it over the boy. Edward's left hand clutched the material pulling over his shoulder as he rolled to his side and continued to sleep.

A murmured Al had Roy wincing as he turned toward the kitchen.

Yeah, we still have a long road ahead of us.

Mustang was in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee when Hawkeye arrived. Her expression was haggard. Mustang immediately left the pot of coffee.

"What happened?"

Hawkeye sank into the wingback chair in the living room with a long sad look at Edward, who still slept on the couch.

"Maverick disappeared. They had him, and he vanished. We have no idea where he is now."

Mustang sank to a crouch next to Hawkeye.

"I have to go soon. I have to catch the train to West City in the hour. I'm going to go see if I can straighten out this mess."

"Who are you taking with you?"

"Falman, we'll meet at the train."

Mustang studied Hawkeye and, with only a quick glance in Edward's direction, gave Hawkeye a reassuring nod. "You'll figure this out. I trust you."

Hawkeye gave her Colonel an appreciative look, "I should be going."

Mustang stood along with Hawkeye.

"I'll give you a report as soon as I have it."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

When Hawkeye was gone, Mustang sank into the chair himself.

How am I going to explain this to Edward?

An hour later, Edward blinked awake.

"Good morning," Mustang's voice caused Edward to turn his head to find Mustang kicked back in the wingback chair.

When Edward saw Mustang, he could see the question in Mustang's eyes.

"Shut up, Bastard. I woke up and figured I would read some alchemy. The sun was rising by then, but I guess I fell back asleep."

Mustang shook his head and then studied Edward for a moment.

"What?" Edward grew agitated the longer Mustang looked at him.

"There's some…., bad news."

Edward felt his chest tighten and twist uncomfortably.

"Maverick escaped somehow," predicting the torrent of questions, Mustang continued. "The MPs were sent to capture him, but he slipped through the net. Hawkeye and Falman are on their way to West City now to see what they can do. I'm sorry Fullmetal."

Edward sunk deeper into the couch and draped his arm over his eyes, "there's still a lookout for him?"

"Yes."

"Well, he was stupid enough to be seen the first time, so maybe they'll catch him again."

Mustang grimaced, "hopefully."

The next morning, Hawkeye did not stop by as she was still in West City. She did, however, call. She and the others were still working to re-locate Maverick. Mustang and Edward spent the day resting or in the living room, chatting or reading.

Mustang felt relief that Edward was improving and had not slipped back into his isolation with the recent setback. If the previous day was an improvement, today, Edward ate both breakfast and lunch with Mustang and sat reading in the living room.

Mid-afternoon, Edward stood and turned to Mustang.

"Hey," he paused, "I've been inside a lot, and well, I think a walk might be good."

Mustang lifted his brows.

The kid wants to go on a walk?

Not wanting to risk the good mood, Mustang agreed.

"Sure, Ed. Go for a walk. Dinner will be ready by six o'clock. Just be back by then."

Edward's eyes lit up, "Thanks, see you soon!"

Edward moved quickly and was soon out the door. Mustang smiled and relaxed as he prepared to take a nap before making dinner.

Edward was running late. He had stopped by the park and lost track of time. As he made his way back to Mustang's apartment, he decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway. Halfway through the alleyway, however, a shadow loomed behind him. Edward, still a bit off from the previous days, did not notice the presence, and he had no time to prepare for the attack.

The movement was sudden and quick, and it left Edward's head reeling. An arm wrapped around his throat. It locked his head in the attacker's arm and pulled his back flush against the broad chest of the man behind him. The bicep of his attacker pressed firmly into the left side of Edward's head, and the crook of the attacker's elbow cut painfully into Ed's windpipe. The attacker's hand grabbed a fist-full of hair on the right side of his head and held him firmly in place.

Edward, however, had one thing in his favor, both of his arms were free. Thinking quickly, Ed used his left flesh hand to claw at the attacker's arm as a distraction. The instinctual fear of being choked caused people to panic, and Edward knew this is what his attacker would expect. He planned to use the movement as a distraction so he could clap.

Edward prepared to clap. The chuckle that reverberated through the chest behind him sent chills up Ed's spine, causing him to freeze.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the Fullmetal Alchemist?

Edward's attacker was Mangele. A sinister and amused smile played across Mangele's face, unseen by Edward.

No… this man knows I can transmute without a circle. This is the man that killed Al.

Fear was quickly replaced by rolling anger. Mangele, however, did not care.

"Don't even think about trying to use your alchemy. Although it will be far more fun for me if you do, not so much for you."

Edward tried to keep his face neutral.

"What do you want?" Ed's voice came out in a rasp due to the pressure on his neck.

"Did you honestly think that Al was the only one who needed to die?"

Edward felt ice flow through his veins, and his stomach twisted into a knot.

How dare he! How dare he so lightly and flippantly declare Al had to die!

Edward fumed, and ice turned to fire as Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, clapped.

Simultaneously, Mustang paced the front room of his apartment. He did not know where Ed was or the predicament that currently faced him. Mustang glanced that the clock for what felt like the hundredth time.

Dammit! Edward was supposed to be home an hour ago! Dinner's cold.

Memories flowed backward. When Mustang first saw the transmutation circle in the Elrics' home and the blood covering it, he felt anger. Aghast was a better word for it. He had come to recruit a rumored genius Alchemist, and the moment he stepped inside, Mustang found that the alchemist had performed the taboo. Even though the result had been cleaned up, what was left was still horrifyingly ghastly.

Mustang barely even registered that he was looking at a child when he had arrived at the Rockbell's home. Yet, when Al placed a shaking hand on Mustang's arm as Mustang lifted the small living-doll of a boy out of the wheelchair, and when he heard that small, gut-wrenchingly distraught plea for forgiveness, Mustang realized he was looking at children, and he stopped. The hulking armor sounded like a child, and Mustang took pause.

However, Mustang could tell. The child sitting in that wheelchair, with two lost limbs, had a fire ready to be lit. Mustang was the Flame Alchemist. He knew fire. The boy's posture was not that of a cowed child who had seen hell or of someone who could not move forward. It was the posture of a boy who had seen hell and would one day become a teen, who would one day become a man with passion and fire in his eyes. The fire had gone out, but the fuel was still there. It just needed to be reignited.

After hearing the boys' story, he was even more convinced. The boy was too smart, and his brother too kind. Once he made his offer, once he gave that boy a reason to hope, he saw that spark ignite. First, it was small, but then a fierce, determined expression set upon the boy's face. Mustang left the room without a glance behind him and walked past Hawkeye and the young girl.

Hawkeye had questioned him, had questioned Ed's resolve. She said he looked dead, broken. He had said he saw fire.

Yes, he saw fire, a blazing passion like the one that burned within him as well. Their reasons may have been different, but they were kindred souls, souls of fire.

However, when Al died, that fire went out again. Now, Mustang had a chance to see that fire begin to grow again. It was still small, but it was there, and now he did not know where that soul of fire was. Mustang did not want to see that fire go out ever again. He had a chance to make things better for someone else. So, he worried for the boy who should have been home for dinner.

The moment Edward clapped, two things happened. First, alchemic light shone through the alleyway as Edward prepared to transmute his arm into his characteristic blade. The second was that Edward felt the stinging sensation of a needle plunging into his neck.

What?

Mangele smiled as the alchemic light died, and Edward grew limp. Mangele still held Edward's head in a vice-like fashion with his left arm. Mangele had used leverage to tilt Edward's head, exposing the right side of Edward's neck. The hold had left Mangele's right hand free, and in his right hand, he held an empty syringe that once contained a full dose of anesthetic.

He dropped the syringe, which cracked as it hit the pavement.

Might as well give the dogs something to sniff.

Mangele hefted Edward over one shoulder and walked deeper into the alleyway and then out to his waiting car.

It was far too late at night for someone so young to be out alone. Mustang looked at the clock one more time.

I shouldn't be worrying about him, he's doing better, and he can take care of himself. But, he should have been home ages ago! It's late. Where that is that blasted runt?!

Mustang paced the room one more time, then, making his decision, grabbed his coat and marched outside, locking the door behind him.

Okay, so it was not intentional that something happens every even chapter…. I promise it was a coincidence. I wrote out a bunch of random scenes once I had the story idea in my mind and then connected them, and their spacing just happened to put these types of events in even chapters.

Hopefully, I didn't rush this stage of Edward's processing.