The first thing Ed did was throw up.

It just seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.

It took him a few minutes to finally get some control over his stomach, and once he did, he got to his feet, panting and weak, shoving his drenched bangs out of his face.

"What do we do?" Al asked, voice small and wavering.

"Where were you?" Ed asked instead, wiping his mouth with a shaking hand, daring to look at Al while trying to ignore the man held in his arms at the same time.

"There are chimeras in the tunnels," Al answered, something hinting at nervousness in his voice, but Ed wasn't sure if it was because of the chimeras in the tunnels or the one cradled to his chest. "Big ones. Four of them went right by me and just started hanging around the door. They would have attacked you, so I chased them deeper into the tunnel. Then I heard the voices and then the gunfire . . ."

Big chimeras loose in the tunnels was unsettling news, but Ed wasn't sure if he could be any more unsettled than he already was at the moment. Ed finally allowed himself to look at Mustang, trying to breathe through the nausea as he did.

Mustang had stopped his thrashing, sagging forward in Al's grip like a puppet with its strings cut. His body had shifted, going from something that looked not-really canine back into the familiar form Ed had always known.

He looked human.

But that only made the blood sliding from his slack mouth stand out even more, the red fluid bathing his mitts and shorts and chest, dripping from the two bullet wounds drilled in his left shoulder and side.

The image of Mustang tearing the throats from those men with his teeth would haunt Ed for the foreseeable future.

"What do we do?" Al asked again, probably hoping that his big brother had a plan.

Ed's first plan hadn't worked out that great, though.

"I don't know, Al."

"He's hurt bad, Brother." Al shifted Mustang's body in his hands like the man weighed no more than a kitten, brandishing his side and the two holes that punctured his flesh. "He needs help."

Ed looked up at the sky; the sun had just barely peeked over the horizon, a lark winging overhead. Their escape had taken too long and people would be out in the streets now. He glanced back at the tunnel's mouth, but there were no guards standing there, no chimera's climbing down the canyon walls. At least a bit of luck was on their side, but Ed knew it wouldn't hold out much longer.

Ed tested his flesh leg, wincing as his injured calf throbbed with the shifting muscle. At least he wouldn't be carrying Mustang himself anymore.

With one eye on the tunnel, they laid Mustang in the mud, taking the supplies from Alphonse's chest plate and tying off Mustang's injuries as quickly as they could. Nagging paranoia made Ed's hands shake, urgency making the process take no more than a couple of minutes. When Mustang was no longer actively bleeding to death, they wrapped the soaking man in the blanket and gently settled him inside Al's armor.

Mustang never woke up.

"We'll get to the top, then you take Mustang. I'll stop at the nearest payphone and call Hughes." Ed reached into his shirt and peeled free a wet mass of papers from his skin. He squeezed excess water from the soggy pages as best he could before sliding them in next to Mustang, then sealed the file and the Colonel safely out of sight.

Even without an expression, Alphonse looked relieved to get an adult involved. His relief evaporated when Ed took a hobbling step back. "Brother, your leg . . ."

"It's a graze," Ed assured him quickly. "It's not bad. We have to go now, before they wonder why these guys didn't come back." Ed swallowed the taste of bile and kept his gaze from the mutilated corpses mostly hidden in the tall grass. He didn't even want to accidentally catch a glimpse of them.

They waded through the meadow to the cliff face. Alphonse clapped his hands together and carved footholds into the steep rock, letting Ed climb onto his back before scaling the wall. Once at the top, Al erased all signs of passage and they continued through the forest until the trees thinned and they could clearly see the city beyond a few scraggly beech trees. Al crouched so Ed wouldn't have to jump down, but Ed still clamped his lips around a grunt as hot pain ricocheted up his leg and sore back.

"Be careful, okay?" Ed said, tapping Al on the breastplate.

After a moment's hesitation, Al stood. "You too."

They parted ways, Ed heading to the right as Al went straight into town. Ed pushed himself as fast as his injured leg would let him. After a long night on the move, he was now enjoying the side effects of an adrenaline crash and possibly a bit of shock. He was tired, hurt, cold, and wet. He didn't really feel like eating anything, but he hoped food would make him feel a bit more grounded. Hopefully the Colonel had something edible at his place.

But first, he had to tell Hughes.

His lip twisted at the thought. He'd honestly rather eat his left shoe than tell Hughes that he'd disobeyed orders, but he wasn't sure what else to do, especially with Mustang hurt the way he was and . . . well, with Mustang being the way he was.

Hughes would know what to do. He always did, and Ed would be more than happy to let someone capable take charge, even for a little while.

Because even after the immediate crisis passed, Ed was terribly, hopelessly out of his element.

XxXxX

Hughes didn't say a word when he saw Mustang, and that made Ed more nervous than anything.

Ed hadn't told him anything when he'd called, just to come to Mustang's house and bring his medical kit. Ed had almost changed his mind at the last second and called Havoc instead, but if things went south, Hughes was high enough up the food chain to hold back the mob. It wasn't that Ed didn't trust anyone under Mustang's command any less. Hughes just . . . well, he just seemed to have a softer touch, which was probably what Mustang needed right now.

But the way Hughes' entire demeanor just chilled at the sight of Mustang lying motionless on the kitchen table made Ed doubt his choice.

He just stared.

He stared like he was waiting for something.

"Mr. Hughes," Al said quietly, only the faintest wobble in his voice. "He's still bleeding. We need your help."

Hughes' eyes softened at that. Alphonse had that effect on people. "Help me get these bandages off," Hughes said, stepping up to the kitchen table. Ed slowly followed suit, hesitating only a moment before grabbing at the bloody dressing on Mustang's bare shoulder.

He really really hoped Mustang didn't wake up while Ed was this close.

Ed frowned at the sudden and completely irrational thought. Why wouldn't Ed want him to wake up? That was ridiculous, of course he wanted Mustang to wake up. It didn't matter how close Ed was to him when he did.

Mustang was sprawled across his own kitchen table like a corpse for viewing, the chairs pushed aside to accommodate. he was still out cold, his body still human. Ed didn't want to think about the mouthful of teeth he'd had less than an hour ago, or the dark fur sprouting from his body, or the bloodlust in his eyes . . .

"He was shot?" Hughes asked. It wasn't with the tone of a concerned friend. His voice had a strange detachment to it, like he was asking for details in a stranger's autopsy report. Ed rarely saw this side of Hughes, and it was disconcerting to see it now. Shouldn't he be relieved that Mustang was out of there? Shouldn't he be worried about him being shot up?

"Brother?" Al asked.

Ed flinched and noticed his hands had stopped moving.

And he'd never answered Hughes.

He looked at Mustang's torso and discarded a dirty bandage on the tabletop, counting bullet holes. He was thin. Had he always been that thin? Ed could count his ribs easily, even under the blood smeared across his skin.

"Twice, I think. Maybe three times."

"Al, I need hot water and towels. Ed, I don't have the right kind of bandages for this. Find me something longer."

Al promptly obeyed, heading to the kitchen to fill up a bowl with hot water. Ed gave Hughes another look before heading upstairs, Alphonse a moment behind.

They poked around wordlessly for a few minutes, finding the guest bathroom pretty sparse, but the master did have a few towels. There were no bandages though, so Ed found a linen closet and transmuted some from a sheet.

Under different circumstances, Ed would have been thrilled with the opportunity to snoop around Mustang's house, maybe redecorate a bit, or loosen all the lightbulbs in all of his lamps, but as it was it felt like he was intruding.

Had it only been a few weeks ago that Ed was stuck in Mustang's office, the older man sitting and smirking behind his desk while making some comment about Ed's height? He'd looked so normal, just reclining in his uniform, grinning at Hawkeye when she'd chastised him, joking with Havoc about some bet they'd had going on.

Had he known then that this was where he'd end up?

A little more poking around got them the supplies they needed, and they returned downstairs. While they had been gone, Hughes had removed Mustang's gloves and shorts, and Ed averted his eyes.

"We don't have time to be shy," Hughes said, not unkindly but not patiently either. "Help me clean him up. An infection will kill him faster than bullets will. Run that antiseptic over any broken skin you find and put a bandage on it."

Again, Ed hesitated before touching Mustang. The old man felt too hot, or maybe that was just Ed. Following Hughes' lead, Ed and his brother helped clean Mustang's body up and patch the wounds, leaving Hughes to deal with the bullets.

Under the blood, he had a lot of bruises.

A lot of punctures and scrapes and cuts.

Some looked old, like they'd happened weeks ago, and some looked fresh, like during their escape. His left ear had a tear along the top, a slice taken out of it, and his shoulders had seemed to take the brunt of his abuse, scarred and mottled with purples, yellows, blues and greens, a mirroring half-moon scar the most noticeable one right above the bullet wound.

What had they done to him?

"Shouldn't we get the bullets out?" Al asked when Hughes was applying a clean bandage to Roy's torso.

"Safer not to," Hughes answered. "I don't want to finish what somebody else started."

Ed blanched.

Ed was pretty good at human anatomy, given his childhood goals, and he knew that an inch or two higher and the bullet in his chest would have punched Mustang's ticket. It made sense that there was always the chance of dislodging it and causing more problems, that close to his heart and lungs.

"What were you two thinking?"

Ed looked up, but Hughes wasn't looking at him, up to his wrists in Mustang's blood, glasses catching in the light from the fixture overhead. He seemed intent on the task, brows drawn down over his eyes as he tied off the last of it. Maybe Ed had misheard.

"I told you. Hawkeye told you," Hughes said through gritted teeth. Okay, so maybe Ed hadn't misheard him.

"What are you talking about?" Ed asked, not sure if he should be feeling defensive or confused and settling on both. "They were turning him into a chimera!"

Into Nina.

"And why do you think Roy was so set on you keeping away?" Hughes asked, his tone wavering dangerously, a vein pulsing at his temple. He stepped away from Roy, scrubbing stained hands on a splotched towel.

"We—" Al began, but Hughes cut him off.

"Do you honestly think Roy is an idiot?"

"No, I—"

"Roy knew what he was doing!" Hughes snapped, voice crackling with some emotion Ed couldn't identify. He took a step toward Ed, towering over him, hands fisting at his sides like he intended to shake reason into him. "He told you to stay away!"

Ed's temper surged, old and familiar, singing the back of his throat like fire. "I couldn't leave him like that!"

"Brother—"

"You have no idea what you've done!" Hughes continued right over Al.

"Then why don't you tell me!"

"Mr. Hughes!"

"You and Al—!" Hughes stopped.

He stopped because Mustang put himself between Ed and Hughes.

Mustang was still bleeding, swaying and stumbling precariously on two animal-like feet. He looked only sort-of-human, his shoulders too broad to be animal, too narrow to be human. Black fur had sprouted from his otherwise naked body, forcing most of the bandages from his skin to stick in clumps like grass burrs. His mouth had extended, becoming more like jaws, black lips peeling back from white teeth.

He wasn't quite what he had been that morning, but he was close.

The worst part was his eyes, completely inhuman, just like this morning. Normally dark and smug, they had turned a yellow color, fear and rage the only emotion in their depths as he swiveled his head between Ed and Hughes.

Almost like he was . . . protecting Ed? From Hughes?

Mustang made a sound like faraway thunder, and Ed could feel it rattle in his own chest as Mustang put his back to Ed, pressing him against the kitchen counter, thick fur brushing his face.

No one moved.

Ed didn't breathe.

"Roy . . ." Hughes began softly, raising his hands in an 'innocent' gesture. "Hey Roy, it's me. It's Maes."

Mustang didn't react except to let out a warning snarl, stumbling a bit to all fours before regaining his balance. Ed thought he heard him say something, but he couldn't make out the human language in the animal sounds. He wavered on his two feet, like he was one quick move from collapse, still bleeding from a now-uncovered bullet round that matted his fur and painted the side of Ed's jacket an even darker black.

"Roy, it's me. I'm not going to hurt him."

Ed tried really hard not to think about Mustang slaughtering two men with his teeth just that morning. Mustang would never forgive himself if he hurt Hughes, and Ed couldn't let that happen.

"Colonel . . ." Ed began, his own voice shaking just a little. Ed couldn't see Mustang's face, but his ears swiveled back, listening. "It's okay . . . it's just Hughes. Hughes wouldn't hurt me."

Mustang's growling faltered. He shuffled, pressing his side against Ed, growling again, more half-heartedly this time.

"Colonel," Al said, red eyes wide in their black sockets. "Please, you're hurt."

Mustang looked at him, then back to Hughes suspiciously. He said something again, and Ed was sure he heard the word "hurt"in there somewhere.

Afraid of what would happen if he startled Mustang, Ed raised a flesh hand out wide enough that Mustang could catch it peripherally, and hesitated only a second before putting it on his shoulder.

Mustang sank, like the weight of just Ed's hand was enough to buckle his legs. He made a whimpering sound, shoulders hunching as he curled on the kitchen floor, somehow managing to keep his teeth bared in Hughes' direction.

Ed fought down a very strong urge to flee. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but this wasn't Mustang. This couldn't be Mustang. Mustang was almost as close to Hughes as Ed was to his brother. Why was he acting this way?

Had Ed been too late? How much of Mustang's mind was really left if he didn't recognize Hughes?

Swallowing fear down his dry throat, Ed limped around Mustang's side and slowly got to his knees. Instead of recoiling, Mustang leaned his head against the side of Ed's leg, another whimper slipping between his teeth.

This was his superior officer. This was Mustang.

This was wrong.

"It's . . . It's okay," Ed said slowly, hesitating only a second before awkwardly patting Mustang on the shoulder.

Hughes finally moved, every action slow and deliberate as he got a towel, antiseptic, and bandages from the tabletop and approached.

Mustang didn't seem to appreciate it. He didn't move his broad head from Ed's side, but that rumble started up again, rippling under Ed's hand.

"Stop that," Ed pleaded more than ordered.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Mustang didn't stop, but he didn't make a move to stop Hughes either.

Ed looked at his brother, but Al was frozen in space in only the way a suit of armor could be, like he was afraid the squeal of a hinge or the groan of metal might set Mustang off. Ed didn't blame him; he was worried about the same thing. Anything might make Mustang lunge for Hughes at the moment, the chimera's muscles coiled tight like a spring under Ed's touch, looking for any reason to tear his best friend apart.

Hughes sat down like he was on the edge of a rickety bridge, all balanced caution and measured movement. "I'm just going to clean up that last puncture, okay?" he said, holding his supplies in plain view. "Your bandage isn't secure and you're bleeding, Roy."

Mustang's eyes narrowed, but he didn't turn to follow Hughes with his teeth, keeping his head glued to Ed's side. Was it Ed's imagination, or was the yellow of his eyes just a little darker now? Almost brown? Was his fur just a little shorter, his chest a little broader?

Ed was probably just dealing with a little shock.

Very slowly, very gently, Hughes brought the towel down to Mustang's side.

Mustang flinched back from the contact with a low whine.

Ed wrenched his eyes shut against that terrible sound and put his metal hand at the side of Mustang's head, just in case he tried to turn and tear into Hughes.

There had been so much blood this morning, some still dried and caked in Mustang's fur and hair. Ed never wanted to see anything like that again.

Mustang leaned into the touch, another whimper making Ed want to push the chimera away, but Ed bit his tongue and took a tight breath, trying to relax.

"It's okay, Colonel. Hughes is almost done."

Hughes didn't look almost done. It seemed most of the bandages originally stuck or wrapped around his human body had come loose. "I don't guess you could make yourself human again?" Hughes asked, a smile as fragile as moth wings fixed to his lips.

Mustang's whine turned into a growl.

Still, Hughes perked. "Can you understand me, Roy?"

Mustang didn't respond.

Alphonse finally moved from where he had been standing very still in the corner, armor as loud as a dropped pan in the quiet kitchen. Mustang jumped, raising his head like a retriever on alert until his gaze settled on Al. Apparently satisfied that it wasn't something more threatening, Mustang lowered his head again.

Right onto Ed's lap.

That was too much.

"Hey," Ed protested weakly. "None of that." He pushed Mustang, and Mustang had the gall to somehow look offended.

Then, he deliberately put his head down on his own front paws with a displeased huff.

That's when Ed noticed his hands.

Paws.

"Hey, what's that?" Al had noticed too, coming in for a closer look.

Hughes glanced over Mustang's shaggy shoulders. "Is that . . . Is that an alchemy thing?"

His discomfort and unease forgotten in the wake of a puzzle, Ed leaned forward. "Let me see your hand, Mustang."

The Colonel curled his paws under his body.

Ed glared. "Seriously?"

Mustang whined, and Ed deflated a little. He didn't have the heart to be annoyed with the Colonel at the moment.

Hughes wrapped a linen bandage around Mustang's side, but Mustang wasn't going out of his way to be cooperative about it as Hughes strained to get the wrap underneath his body. "I think we're going to have to shave this fur down, Roy. And you need a bath. You smell like the latrine."

Mustang sighed.

"I think he understands us now that he's a little calmer. At least a little," Hughes said, tying off the wrap. "He's going to need medication. He's probably in quite a bit of pain, and we need antibiotics."

"Do we . . ." Alphonse began. "I mean, for a person or . . ."

All eyes moved to Mustang.

"He was human when I found him," Ed said. "It's like when he wakes up, he just changes."

Hughes sat back with a sigh, almost running a blood-slicked hand over his face before he caught himself, staring at his fingers with a grimace. "Do we know what...what he's mixed with?"

Alphonse picked up a wrinkled file from the kitchen bar. "A lot of the print in the files Brother stole was washed away. I read that...he's mostly canine, but they used Drachman Wolf, Gray Wolf, Drachman Malinois, Cretian Retriever, as well as Northern Leopard, Red Lion, and Xingese Dragon."

Ed felt ice seep into his gut.

If separating Nina and Alexander had seemed impossible, how were they going to separate Mustang from seven other creatures?

"All those animals?" Ed asked. "What...what were they trying to do to him?"

Ed and Al looked from Mustang to Hughes.

Hughes looked like he was trying to think of something quick but was coming up blank. He looked at Mustang and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Not now," he said quietly. "We have to move him. Now that he's not bleeding everywhere, it's probably safe, and this the first place they'll come looking for him."

Ed exchanged a look with his brother, anger burning in his stomach, but he would wait until he heard what Hughes had to say. "Where can we take him?"

"We'll have to rent out a house. He's too obvious for an apartment or any place with close neighbors." Hughes pressed his lips together, looking at Ed and Al, sizing them up. "You both are too obvious, too. I'll find a place." He got to his feet, making his way to the kitchen sink and flipping on the tap. The water rushed from the faucet and over Hughes' hands, running pink in the basin below.

Ed looked at Mustang, still and quiet on the floor, then slowly stood up and followed, heading around the bar that Alphonse now leaned over.

"Is it safe to keep him here until you get back?" Al asked.

Hughes frowned. "Turn out the lights. I've been dropping by a couple of times a week to get the paper and check the mail, so someone being here isn't too conspicuous, but spending a lot of time here is." He dried his hands and looked out the window over the sink, considering. "I'll find a place and come back to pick you up at nine. It should be dark enough by then, but not so late that someone wouldn't expect me to be checking up on the place. I'll meet you in the alley, just in case. Clean this up the best you can. Pack him a bag."

Ed wasn't sure what kind of overnight accessories he was supposed to pick up for a chimera, but he let it slide. They'd figure it out later.

Hughes fixed the both of them with a look. "Think you both can handle him while I'm out?"

Ed tried not to scoff and failed. "We got him here, didn't we?"

Hughes opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head. "I think I know how to get my hands on some meds that won't hurt him. I'll see if I can't bring those by tonight, too. Keep the curtains shut and don't answer the door for anybody. Be in the alley at nine."

"Okay," Ed agreed, following Hughes back around the bar.

Hughes stopped. Al turned and followed his gaze. Ed's pulse spiked and he made the corner, eyes landing on Mustang.

Mustang was human again, all pale skin and scars and bandages, blood smeared here and there, his dark hair matted against his scalp. His mouth hung open and his brows were relaxed on his forehead, hinting that he was either asleep or out cold.

But he was human.

The sight alone gave him just a little hope.

"Did anybody see you, Ed?"

The question was so soft Ed almost missed it. He looked at Hughes, the older man clenching his jaw, hands in fists at his side. He looked grim. Worried.

Ed swallowed, his mouth way too dry for someone that almost drowned that morning. "Nobody alive. Except a lady . . . she caught us, then . . . she let us go."

Hughes didn't seem to like this news. He forced a long breath from his nostrils. "Be careful," was all he said though before turning and leaving the room.

Neither Ed nor Al moved. Both stared at Mustang while the front door opened and shut, the lock tumbling into place with a low clatter before the house fell silent.

"I hope we did the right thing," Al said softly.

Ed swallowed again.

"Me, too."

Okay, well, this was a long time coming xD Sorry for the delay :'D Life has been so busy that I've had very few free evenings to write, and then when I finally did get around to writing, I found out it was all drivel xD So then editing was a nightmare, but shoutout to mildlynerdy for all of the help. This chapter wouldn't be coherent without her work xD

STORY TIME: so my friends find this puppy and I fall in love. Head-over-heels for this dog. I have been in the market for a small dog for a while, and never saw myself adopting a dog like this. We're talking Heinz 57 mutt, a complete wildcard in size and personality. But I prayed that if this was the dog for me that it would all work out, and if it wasn't, then it would not. I take him to the vet, and lo, he has a microchip. I walk away sad but at peace with it. Clearly not the dog for me. I leave him there, because the owners are picking him up thirty minutes later. This was last Friday.

Tuesday, i get a call saying that I need to come get my dog. "Excuse me, but I have no dog what are you on." It's the same vet clinic and his owners never came and stopped answering the phone. So now the policy is they have ten days to come forward and pick him up. If they don't, he's gonna come home with me :D

My roommate is super hesitant, but I said I prayed about it and that "you can't argue with the Lord." xDDD

Divine intervention is divine intervention. End of story xD

Stay tuned for updates on that. Maybe I'll name him Chimera. Or Roy . . . xDDDD I crack myself up.

If you have the time, please drop a review, and I'll see you next time!

God Bless,

-RainFlame