Welcome back to The Water Alchemist. I don't own any of the intellectual property of Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter Forty-Six

Look Before You Leap

Three grueling days had passed since leaving Isabelle behind. We stopped twice since then, but I only departed the train that one time to freshen up at the station. I hadn't been allowed to leave my room except to use the restroom otherwise. A few hours had passed since our last stop, where I was kept in my room, and I was just journaling, unable to sleep. I looked briefly out my window, noticing how dark it had gotten. I closed the journal – my hand cramping from trying to write in cuffs – and I walked up to the window. There were bars over it, and I wondered how often prisoners were transported by train as I wrapped my hands around them, peering out into the darkness. Suddenly the train lurched as it had each time before we made a stop, and I gripped the bars a bit tighter, trying to look through the glass for any clues as to where we had ended up. My breath ended up fogging the window instead, and I tried to squint through it. A knock at the door pulled me from trying to wipe the condensation away.

"Miss Wayde, would you like a shower?" the familiar voice of the female soldier floated into the room pleasantly. I had been in the care of two separate soldiers it seemed, the grump who brought my meals and her, and they seemed to rotate shifts watching me. Her cheerful demeanor made the fact that I was under constant surveillance a bit more bearable.

"Yes, please," I said since it had been two days since my last. I turned to her, a bit surprised when I saw her. She looked a bit more… bundled up than I remembered. I brushed it off and followed her to depart the train.

"Watch your step," she instructed before opening the door, and when she opened it, I was assaulted by a frigid blast of air.

"C-cold," I said, shaking.

I stepped down from the train with a shiver, my sneakers sinking into the soft terrain. I let out a surprised gasp, my breath a visible cloud of air in front of me, looking down to see that I had stepped into snow. I hadn't seen snow in years. It didn't often snow back home— I'd seen it maybe twice as a kid, but that was so long ago. There was a brief moment of excitement stirring in my chest, seeing the shimmering crystals of freshly fallen snow until I shivered again. I was wearing a simple tunic and trousers— not ideal for the conditions. I clung to myself tightly, hoping that it would somehow provide me extra warmth. I hopped in the prints the soldier left in her wake, my arms shaking uncontrollably with the chattering of my teeth. We eventually entered the station, and I shuffled inside quickly, greeted by a drastic change in temperature. I was grateful for the slightly warmer inside, though it was still a bit frigid. Gaining my bearings, I watched as soldiers ran about, phones ringing off the hook in a constant stream of communication. Kimblee was at the center of the jumble, directing and receiving information. Beneath his palm was my father's journal. I scowled.

"Come on," she said, tapping my shoulder, and I quickly fell into step behind her as she led me to the showers.

Unfortunately, the locker room was a bit drafty, and no matter how hard I turned the faucet, the water wouldn't warm up. I debated briefly about using my alchemy to heat it, but I thought better of it. The last thing I needed was to declare myself an active threat. When I finished, just as cold as I had started, I was surprised to see a whole different set of clothes laid out for me, along with a pair of snow boots. I looked over the stall to the soldier.

"Thank you," I said, collecting up the clothes.

"Can't have you freezing to death," she said with a smile, which I returned, shuffling further into the stall to change. I unfolded the clothes and shimmied myself into some thickly lined trousers but was a bit startled to see a piece of paper float to the floor, soaking up some water. I mistook it for a tag at first, bending to collect it, but it was blank. I looked at it curiously a moment before turning it over, noting the scrawl on the other side. 'They're safe,' it said. I looked around the corner, noting the soldier, standing as she was before. I blinked back at the note, my heart skipping a beat, my mind racing. How did this get here? Did she leave it for me? I wondered, reading the small note over and over. "You alright in there?" I jolted, pressing the note to my damp chest, realizing I still hadn't changed.

"Y-yeah, sorry, I'll be ready soon," I said, tucking the note into the waistband of the trousers.

I quickly layered a skin-tight long-sleeved shirt under a thick sweater, followed by a coat. I slipped into some wool socks and laced up the boots, feeling much warmer but a bit off. I had no idea what to make of the note. I wanted so badly to believe that everyone was alright. But I couldn't act hastily. A little note from nowhere wasn't enough proof to convince me of their safety. It could very well be a trap. Either way, my best bet was to continue as I was as if nothing happened. If they had me, there was no reason to harm them. In the coat pocket were a pair of gloves, and I slipped them on before I was re-cuffed, grateful for the buffer between my wrists and the wood. We emerged from the showers, and I noticed Kimblee leaving the building, looking like he was on a mission. We followed suit, and I was taken back to my room, where I sat quietly, hoping for the best.

"Alyssa, how's the bakery?" Mustang cooed into the phone. He could feel the judgmental stares of his new Fuhrer-mandated staff as he kicked his feet up onto the top of his desk, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe. I made sure to save that danish for you," Havoc said in a shrill tone. It took everything in Mustang not to mock the strange voice he put on. He cleared his throat instead.

"Oh, good. I appreciate it. Did anyone else have their eyes on it?" Mustang said, twirling the cord around his finger.

"Oh, hardly," Havoc sang. "There were a few people who seemed interested, but I made sure they didn't take it. Nothing too exciting, unfortunately." Mustang smiled to himself, glancing at his disgruntled subordinates. He wasn't off the chessboard just yet.

"Well, I'm glad it was a quiet morning for you," Mustang said. "What about the strawberry shortcake?" There was a moment of quiet, and Mustang's brow furrowed just slightly.

"Ran out of ingredients," Havoc replied finally.

"That's too bad," Mustang sighed.

"Yeah, but the donuts turned out nicely. Quite tasty, if not a little temperamental," Havoc grumbled toward the end of his musings, forgetting the shrill voice a moment. He seemed to realize, and his pitch shot back up. "Yup, real good batch."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it," Mustang said. "How's business otherwise?"

"Well, I'd say business is booming. Almost how it was back at the old shop."

"You don't say," Mustang said, humming to himself. "Well, I'll talk to you soon— sweetheart." Mustang grinned coyly at the ridiculous sentiment, and Havoc groaned a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled and hung up the phone with a click.

Mustang placed the receiver down and spun around in his chair, gauging the reaction of his new team. They watched him in a mix of disillusion and horror. He could read nearly each of their faces as if they spoke their thoughts directly to him; how could some womanizing jackass make Colonel? Why'd we have to be transferred under him? But it didn't matter much what they thought about him. It didn't matter if they respected him or not. They weren't there as his subordinates, his team. They were there as his watchdogs. If he moved even one inch out of line, they'd be the first to set off the alarm. The pawns sent in to strike before the finishing blow.

Mustang sighed, his chair stopping to allow him to face the courtyard. He looked down upon the grounds of Central Command, replaying the conversation in his head. It seemed Isabelle had been delivered to the safe house, as were Elias and Winry. But shortcake didn't make it, which meant Marina was missing. He had assumed she and Isabelle would both be in Bethanie. Mustang was at a loss as to where she could have gone. He'd have to check in later to see if Havoc had any leads on her whereabouts, though he didn't think she was in any immediate danger. As for business, it seemed that their efforts in reversing the effects of the drug in Hughes wasn't in vain either. The day Mustang got the call that Hughes remembered him, however vaguely it was, he broke down and nearly went there himself. But he knew he couldn't, not if he wanted to keep his location top-secret. And now he's gone and got himself even deeper involved with this countries military mess. He'd just have to reform the military and become Fuhrer, it seemed. Simple enough.

"Oh, that smells lovely, honey!" Hughes gushed, wrapping his arms around his wife, who giggled, tending to a skillet. He placed a kiss on her temple before turning to Elias. "Doesn't it smell good, kid?"

"I wouldn't know," he coughed, taking an accidental inhale of Havoc's newly lit cigarette.

Elias's eye burned, and Hughes began scolding Havoc for smoking inside, as well as for kicking his feet up over the table. Mrs. Isabelle laughed, cracking a window above the sink. The small kitchen was quite crowded, with Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Isabelle at the stove, working on dinner. Just a few hours ago, they were all nearly strangers, and now they were putting a meal together in a home they were set to share.

When Hughes had brought him and Winry back, Elias wasn't sure what to make of taking up space there, after learning Hughes's circumstances. He had waved him off, citing that he had been dying for some more company, and sure enough, there was more. When they arrived, Havoc was there with Mrs. Isabelle, and after introductions, it was explained to them why they were all there.

"You've all been targeted by an underground organization, so we thought it best to gather you and keep you under surveillance here," Havoc explained, leaning against the kitchen door. Elias folded his arms, noting the way Winry wrung her hands until her knuckles turned white.

"Who is this organization? Why us?" Elias asked, and Havoc and Hughes exchanged a look.

"They call themselves Homunculi," Havoc said, and Elias's blood ran cold. That's what they called the creature that had swallowed his arm. A Homunculus. Which meant there were more creatures like him— a whole group of them. And one of them happened to be the Fuhrer. "According to Mustang, you're all basically collateral to make sure Fullmetal and the others behave accordingly."

"Collateral?" Winry asked sharply. Hughes elbowed Havoc, probably for putting it so bluntly. "What about Marina? Mustang said she was a hostage too. Where is she?"

"With Mr. Kimblee, right?" Mrs. Isabelle spoke up, startling them all. She had been quiet and reserved the moment she arrived, exchanging niceties and nothing more. She looked up to Havoc, her eyes wide. "Marina left me a note, tucked into the bottom of my chair, telling me to trust Mustang. That's why I'm here. But she went with Kimblee. Is she in danger?"

"She went with Kimblee?" Havoc asked, looking pale. Isabelle nodded fervently. "Damnit. Alright, I'll let the Colonel know. If she went with Kimblee, there may be a way to track her down." He moved quickly into the next room where the phone was.

"Who's Kimblee?" Winry asked, just before Elias did.

"He was ex-military," Hughes began, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. "I kind of remember him— real self-righteous. He was in jail for a long time before this, right after Ishval. He was a State Alchemist. Killed a bunch of our own one day. I couldn't tell you what good releasing him would do for them." Mrs. Isabelle slumped back into her chair.

"I knew something was wrong," Isabelle said, clenching her fists. "She seemed off. I just had a feeling that something was wrong. I knew it, and I still let her go with him." She hung her head in her hands, a soft sob escaping her. Winry stood and held her shoulder gently. Hughes walked to her, crouching at her side, taking her hand.

"It's alright, ma'am, you did what you thought was best at the moment," he assured her, though tears flowed freely from her face. "You couldn't have known. What's important is that you are all safe now. That's what Marina wanted for you. That's why she called us."

After that, Isabelle was able to calm down and open up a bit to them, and Havoc assured them that Mustang would try to locate Marina with the new information regarding her having gone with Kimblee. Elias looked back up at the chaos in the kitchen and decided it was time to leave the cramped space. He wandered through the living room and into the hallway, walking to the room designated as his until he heard a melodic voice singing. He stopped at the open door of Winry's room, resting his hand against the doorframe. She was sitting in a rocking chair, rocking gently back and forth with the little girl Hughes had about a million pictures of in his wallet alone curled up in her lap. He realized she was singing her a lullaby, one he thought sounded oddly familiar. It sounded like a song his sister had sung to him after his mother and father passed— he was almost sure of it. His legs moved on their own, gently gliding across the floor to her side. He didn't realize she had noticed him until she looked up at him, the song finished. He took a step back, embarrassed, and moved to run to his room, but the floor creaked noisily beneath him, and the little girl stirred. They both froze, watching the child, who eventually settled, and they exhaled. Winry glared up at him.

"Don't you know it's bad manners to enter a room without announcing yourself?" he heard her say, and he felt his ears burn.

"Wouldn't she wake up?" he asked wryly, and she narrowed her eyes at him a moment before shaking her head with a sigh, turning back to the girl in her lap, sound asleep.

"Did you get to call them?" she asked in a huff.

"Uh, yeah," he said. He called Nessa to let her know he'd be in Rush Valley longer than expected for recovery. She seemed overly worried, but he managed to calm her down. He had asked earlier if Winry had called anyone, but since they had already told Mr. Garfiel what was happening, she didn't find it necessary. "I did earlier."

"That's good," she said softly, brushing a hair from Elicia's face. "Isn't she precious?" Elias didn't like kids much. They were noisy and obnoxious, and they couldn't fend for themselves. They were incredibly vulnerable and almost stupidly trusting. He thought a moment.

"She's cute," he mumbled, feeling in his bones if he had said anything— otherwise, her father would have somehow overheard him and rip him limb from limb. He couldn't blame his fatherly affections over the girl— she was sweet and kind of funny, and Winry seemed much calmer with her around to look after. They had been nearly connected at the hip ever since they had arrived. Elias shuffled his feet. "Where did you learn that lullaby?" He didn't know where the question came from or why he felt so compelled to ask. But he was anxious to hear the answer. Winry's expression was a little somber but also seemed nostalgic in a way.

"My mother taught it to me," she said, pulling Elicia closer to her chest. "She would sing it to me every night before she left for…"

"Ishval," Elias finished quietly for her, and she nodded. Elias couldn't help but feel like he brought something up he shouldn't have. Feelings that had been buried, and we're meant to stay that way. "I recognize it."

"Really? I thought my mother made it up," she said, letting out a short laugh.

"We spent a few weeks recovering at your family's make-shift hospital. I think it's possible that my sister may have… well, I guess she learned it from your mother," he shifted his weight from each leg awkwardly, feeling heavier than usual. His mind wanted him to stop talking, especially at the way her eyes widened up at him, and her lips parted slightly in disbelief. But he couldn't stop. "When my parents passed, I'd often have nightmares of their deaths, keeping me up half the night, terrified of sleep. My sister was the only family I had left, so I looked to her for answers, but she was still a kid herself. I didn't think about it all that much then. I was selfish— as if I was the only one who lost something important to them. But she stepped up, somehow. Maybe with some of your mother's guidance. I remember one night, after a particularly bad nightmare, she started singing to me. She was terrible. You're definently more musically inclined than she was. But I liked the tune, and it calmed me down enough to have the first full night's rest I had had in weeks. Eventually, the nights didn't seem so long anymore. After she too passed, I didn't think I'd miss it. But I did."

"Oh, Elias," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know." He shook his head, staring at the wall beyond her. He could almost picture his sister's smiling face.

"I didn't mean to intrude, I just... didn't think I'd ever hear it again. Thanks for that," Elias finally looked at her, realizing that her eyes were glassy, watery. A tear slipped down her cheek. Elias began to panic, quietly for Elicia's sake, waving his arms around, his voice wrought with worry. "S-sorry, please forget everything I said! I was just rambling— it's not that big a deal. Please don't cry. If you cry, that Hughes guy might kill me." She exhaled, wiping her face.

"I won't forget it," she said, reaching out for him. He recoiled a moment as her fingers brushed against his hand. His palms felt sweaty and clammy and ill-prepared as her hand, warm and soft, clasped around his. "I should be the one thanking you. I'm glad to know then my parents made an impact. Even if it was a small one." It wasn't small. Not to him. He wanted to correct her and even opened his mouth to, but he clamped it shut, feeling he'd already said far too much.

We had set out again, but I wasn't sure where to this time. I plopped onto my bed, rolling over, feeling myself drifting off. I was tired, but my mind had been keeping me up, worrying about how everyone was doing. There was a constant tightness in my chest like someone was pressing their boot down over it, and it made doing anything but fixating on the situation difficult. It was clear I was exhausting myself as my eyelids fluttered shut, though I wasn't sure for how long before a knock at my door drew me out of it. I turned over just as the door opened, and to my surprise, Kimblee stood at its entrance.

"Good evening," he said, tipping his hat before removing it and closing the door behind him. I sat up and swung my legs over the bed, trying to blink the grogginess away. He sauntered around the room, glancing about before resting his hand over the back of the second chair at my little table. "How are you adjusting?"

"Oh, just swell," I said flatly. I shook my shackled wrists, gesturing to the cabin. "Very homey in here. Though, I could go without the restraints."

"Well, can you blame me? I've heard you're quite the talented alchemist," he said, motioning for me to join him at the small table in the corner. I begrudgingly took the seat opposite him. He folded his hands over the table, leaning over it. "So talented, in fact, that you've picked up your father's specialty."

"You know my father?" I asked, the curiosity of my theory burning a hole in my brain. He smiled.

"You could say that. More like I knew him, I suppose. I haven't got a clue where he is now, but I don't think he'd be as useful as this is," he said, producing my father's journal from the inside of his jacket, and I narrowed my eyes at him. He sat back in the chair, carefully flipping through the journal in strained silence. He finally stopped and pushed the book across the table for me to see. I squinted the moment but immediately recognized the transmutation circle. "Your father developed quite the technique, but I'm sure you're already familiar with the concept of Manipulation."

"I don't see why it matters," I said, watching him warily. I didn't like the satisfied look in his eye as he pulled the book away and began flipping pages.

"Well, I found something quite interesting. If you read a bit between the lines, you can tell just what kind of power Manipulation allows for," Kimblee said, replacing the journal in front of me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, looking down, realizing he had opened to the passage I had avoided fervently up until this point. I swallowed hard as he urged me to read. I noticed some notes and underlining had been added, likely Kimblee's handiwork, and there was a roughly translated note beneath the coding. I inhaled sharply, reading.

Using Manipulation a Philosopher's Stone's creation can be exacted beyond what we've been capable of before. Using it to extract the blood from the subject of a potential Philosopher's Stone allows for a more refined stone. Not a drop of blood is wasted, as it would be otherwise.

"No way," I breathed.

The vision of being in that room, standing across from my father, watching as he drained the life from those men came rushing back to me. The red water. The agonizing screams. The blood. This was exactly why I hadn't read it. All this time, I had denied what I had seen in that vision the day I got my memories back. I could avoid its inherent truth, convincing myself that I had made up what I saw. That it was just a fanciful dream. But I couldn't deny what I had witnessed to myself any longer. My father was exactly the man I had seen. He committed mass murder. A genocide. And he'd used Manipulation to do it. Is this what Elias had gotten angry at me for? I wondered bleakly. When I replaced the blood to his body? My mind raced back to that interaction.

"What did you do?"

"I'm honestly not sure," I answered, my mind swimming.

"You read that in the journal, didn't you?" he asked angrily. I furrowed my brow, chancing a look at him.

"What? No, I just—"

"Why would you do that?" he snapped.

Back then, I acted on a mix of impulse and desperation. No wonder he had been so angry. He knew that was how my father created the Philosopher's Stone, by using Manipulation to drain the blood from innocent Ishvalen civilians. Even though I had used it to save Elias, I used a technique tied to the murder of thousands of his people. I felt nauseous.

"You see? Far more valuable," Kimblee reiterated, taking the journal back. I hung my head.

"Where are you going with this?"

"Oh, not me," he said, and I stiffened. "Us."

"Us?" I asked, my head snapping up at him, not understanding his response.

"We are going to use this to carve a crest of blood," he said, waving his hand nonchalantly, a wicked grin on his face. "As soon as I capture Scar and Marcoh, we will be heading to Briggs to engage Drachma in battle, and soak the land with their blood."

"No, you can't!" I yelled, standing, sending my chair clattering to the floor.

"I can, and I will, with your help," he smiled snidely.

I listened in horror as he detailed his plan. He wanted to lure a Drachman force he had been in contact with into a massive circle and activate it. But carving such a thing – let alone activating it – required skilled alchemists, plural at least, preferably familiar with Manipulation already. The air in the room felt terribly thin as he finished. He wanted me to help him commit genocide— just like my father had.

"I won't fight for you. I won't take the lives of innocent people! You're crazy if you think I would ever—"

"You know, I'd hate to see Isabelle meet an early grave. She's such a lively old woman," he said, and I paled, slipping back into my chair.

"This isn't right," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"Right and wrong are purely relative, Miss Wayde. I'm surprised your father didn't teach you that," he said, standing. I grit my teeth, digging my nails into my palms. "I'll be taking my leave now. I look forward to our partnership."

He strode from the room and closed the door behind him. I choked out a breath, my body trembling in a mix of anger and frustration and pure fear. I slammed my fists against the table, letting out a strangled outcry, slumping against the grainy wood. I didn't know what to do. There wasn't a way forward that protected the people I cared about or the lives of innocent people. There wasn't a right answer.

After my visit from Kimblee, I migrated back to my bed, curling in on myself. I managed to keep the tears at bay, instead trying to decide what to do next. There was a chance that note had merit, that it was true, but if I believed it and it wasn't trustworthy, I'd put Isabelle and the others in unnecessary danger. I didn't think I'd be able to forgive myself if anything happened to them, not after what happened to Elias. But I couldn't exactly forgive myself for helping a psychopath commit mass murder either. I buried my face in my pillow, letting out a frustrated sigh, wracking my brain for an answer, something, anything better than what I had in front of me. I was startled by a knock and looked up to see the soldier had poked her head in, breathing heavily.

"Miss Wayde, would you like to use the restroom?" she asked, her voice a little pitchy.

"No, I'm alright but thank you," I said, wanting to be alone for a while.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her tone dipping into strange desperation.

"Uh, yes?" I said, realizing something was off. I glanced over to the clock. It had been a little over an hour since she last asked if I needed the restroom, which I had done. It was too early for her to be back.

"I think you should use the restroom, Miss Wayde," she urged. I gazed up at her but rose from my bed, and she smiled as if everything were back to normal as she led me down the hall. But when I went to walk into the bathroom, she stopped me. "This bathroom is out of order. I have to take you to another one."

"Oh, alright," I said, following her, though I couldn't see the point of taking me to the bathroom if I had to walk to one further away and had used that one just an hour earlier. I didn't question it, though, as she guided me to the front of the train, traveling from car to car. The rumbling of the wheels became much clearer with each car we passed. The first few cars were empty until we hit a certain point. We walked through two cars with about five soldiers per car, which was surprising since I had only interacted with her and the grump that brought in my meals.

We finally stopped in a car that seemed fancier than the rest, nearly at the helm of the locomotive. She motioned to the door of the bathroom with a smile. I looked up at her, still very confused, but I obliged her anyway. She followed me in to undo my shackles, and strangely, she left, stating she would be right outside the door. She usually never left me alone inside the bathroom, just in the stall. Something was definently off, but I couldn't tell what. I looked around the bathroom, at the two stalls and the two sinks with two mirrors and the dim lights above. It didn't seem special for all that we had gone through to get there. I sighed and walked to the end stall, and as I was about to open it, I heard a voice yelling through the walls. I pressed my hand to the wall to my right, making out words here and there. I could even feel the vibrations of their voices, loud and seemingly angry. I couldn't make out what they said very clearly until I put my ear to the wall.

"How could you lose them?" a voice roared one that I knew well. My eyes went wide as I listened to Kimblee ramble on. "It's an old woman and two children; I don't understand how you could screw up so royally."

"Please, Sir, understand that we are doing everything in our power to find them," a voice I didn't recognize answered back.

"That's not good enough!" Kimblee yelled, slamming something heavy down. I flinched, pressing my ear back to the wall to listen. I needed every detail I could get out of him. "You need to find them and bring them back to HQ, so they don't get away again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," the voice answered back, trembling. "What about the girl?"

"What about her?" Kimblee said lowly. "As far as she knows, everything is just as I told her it was. We continue as planned."

I felt my jaw tighten. Of course, Kimblee wasn't going to tell me anything. What good were his plans if I knew he had no leverage? I repeated the question to myself. He had no leverage. He had no means over me any longer. My heart was thumping in my chest as I shuffled to untuck my shirt, the slip of paper tumbling out. I read the smudged letters over again. 'They're safe.' I turned swiftly to the door, realizing I wasn't here by mistake. I wasn't sure how it happened or how he did it, but Mustang pulled through. This was the answer I had asked for.

"Right, Sir," the voice which I had assumed to be a soldier at this point said back.

"When will we make contact with the train?" Kimblee asked, seeming more annoyed than before. I furrowed my brow a moment. What was he planning?

"In about an hour," the soldier replied. "We're all set to align with their trajectory. We'll be running parallel just as you requested. But I do warn you, jumping from one moving train to the other is quite dangerous." I paled, remembering the little conversation they had back West about Scar having jumped a train. It seemed now that Kimblee wanted to as well.

"I'm well aware, thank you," he said coolly. "But we're looking for the element of surprise. I won't let them get away that easy." I heard a knock at the door, and I jumped.

"Everything alright in there?" the female soldier asked.

"Yes, sorry, I'm coming," I answered, looking down at the note one last time before tossing it into the bowl, flushing it down.

I moved to the sink to wash my hands, my heart thrumming in my throat. I opened the door to the bathroom, and the female soldier smiled brightly at me, and I nodded to her as she re-cuffed me. We walked through the amble of train cars we had come through until we were back at my room, where she informed me that dinner would be in an hour. She closed the door with a wink, and I realized that too was no accident. Kimblee wanted to ambush the train Scar was on in an hour. In an hour, I would be monitored but uncuffed by a soldier. From what I could tell, the only other person in the entirety of the train car we occupied.

Dinner came an hour later, just as promised. The grumpy soldier who brought my food uncuffed me and sat my food down, and I ate it swiftly. I listened carefully to see if I heard any footsteps or loud noises, but I heard nothing. I had the keys in the soldier's belt in my sights and formulated a plan in my head. When I finished, the soldier came to me to re-cuff me, not seeming to have liked that I had brought the tray up to him that first time, and as he clicked it shut, I bumped my elbow into the table, knocking the empty food tray and empty glass to the floor.

"Ah, my bad," I grinned at him apologetically as he crouched down with a groan to pick it up.

He seemed to mumble something about 'stupid kids' to himself as I swung my heavy cuffs down on his back with a loud cracking sound. He groaned as he collapsed to the ground unconscious, the gun falling from his hand, and I swiftly kicked it to the other end of the room. I snatched the keys from his belt, struggling a bit to release my cuffs before placing them on him. He moaned some more as I locked the padlock securely, sitting him up, but he was too out of it to resist. After he was restrained, I checked his pupils and his pulse to make sure I hadn't done any major damage.

Good, just unconscious, I thought to myself, looking around. I snagged the gloves and threw the coat on that I had shed when I had come back inside, and I shrugged my backpack over my shoulders, looking up at the clock. About ten minutes had passed already, but I still didn't hear any confrontation. I ambled out into the hallway, peering out the un-barred window there. There was no sign of another train just yet, but I didn't imagine I had a ton of time before Kimblee went after Scar. I locked the room I left behind with the keys I took, and I sprinted to the exit. I nearly opened the door when a thought stopped me. Kimblee still had my father's journal. Even without me, there was a possibility that he'd still be able to use my father's research and carve the seal of blood with his technique. The technique that stole the lives of thousands of people. I was the one that let such a destructive force fall into Kimblee's hands. I wasn't going to let it be the fate of innocent lives. There was still so much I didn't know, either. Things I didn't think I'd be able to brush off so easily, leaving it in the hands of a mass murderer.

I turned on my heel and ran the other direction, toward the front of the train. I crossed into the next train car warily, unsure if I'd find more soldiers. It was quiet like it had been when I had traveled through the train before, and I continued. I sprinted through that car as quickly and quietly as I could not to draw attention to myself. I didn't run into any problems until I opened the door to the fourth car, where two soldiers were just sitting in the hallway. They looked up at me in a moment of disbelief, and I hurriedly clapped my hands together and then to the floor of the car, wrapping them up in the sheet metal of the interior. They squirmed and cried out, and a door to my right swung open. I just barely moved out of the way as a bullet flew by my face. I gasped and did a tuck and roll toward the shooter, sweeping their feet from under them. They fell to the floor with a resounding thud and a strained outcry, and I clapped my hands once again to the floor of the car, pinning the man to the ground with the fabric of the carpet. Another bullet swished by my face, and this time I felt it graze my cheek.

"Don't shoot!" the man I had just pinned to the ground called into the room behind him. "Someone get ahold of Kimblee!"

I looked up into the room at a soldier already at the phone, then at the other soldier who had their gun aimed at my head. I sprung up and ran toward the man on the phone, who was dialing furiously, watching the soldier with his gun trained on me with each movement I made. I punched the first soldier in the face, knocking him to the ground before transmitting the phone, destroying it in a brilliant blue.

"Ah!" I cried out as I felt a slight sting on my shoulder, hearing the loud pop of a gun. I looked down at my now-torn coat.

"I said, 'don't shoot!'" the soldier on the ground yelled.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" the one who shot at me twice now called angrily to his comrade.

He had turned away just long enough for me to vault the table between us, and I crashed into him with a kick to the chest. We both tumbled to the ground, and I noticed I had knocked him unconscious just as I had the phone operator. I made quick work of securing them to the train, wiping my cheek as blood trickled down my chin. I pushed into the next car, faced with another three soldiers, luckily dispatching them with a swift burst of alchemy. I uprooted the floor beneath them and with it pinned them to the walls. I barred up any door in a flash of blue to prevent any sudden interruptions, trudging my way through. I clamored from the car, taking a moment to catch my breath in between them, breathing heavily. I wasn't used to fighting when the temperature burned my lungs. As my breathing steadied, I noticed lights reflecting up ahead and felt the rumbling at my feet increase, the train coming into view to my left. I didn't have much time. I recognize the number of the car as I peeked into the window of the door to enter. It was the same car the female soldier had taken me into to use the restroom. There was no one in the hall, and I carefully opened the door.

I entered and slid it shut behind me, still seeing no sign of movement. I walked briskly through the hall to the bathroom door, looking beyond it to the door I had guessed lead to Kimblee's quarters. There was a small window in the door to the room, but it was blacked out. I swallowed hard, my heart beating in my ears, knowing that if I faced Kimblee now, and if I failed here, it was over. But if I didn't take the journal, I still would have failed. Either way, I had to do it. I gripped the strawberry charm around my wrist tightly a moment, taking a breath before swinging the door open, crouching low in a fighting stance. The room was dark, and to my luck, uninhabited, just as the rest of the car was. I quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind me, turning the lights on.

In the middle of the room was a desk, with papers strewn each way across it. Bookshelves lined the walls, though it seemed that one of them was a bit off. It had a noticeable dent and splintered in the middle, missing some books from the otherwise full shelves. I glanced around in awe of the library Kimblee had put together, making my way to his desk. There were stacks and stacks of papers, and I moved things around for a good while before anything turned up, but beneath the mountain of papers was my father's journal. I unloaded my backpack from my shoulders and stuffed it inside swiftly. I was about to turn to go when I noticed something red and shiny from the corner of my eye. My necklace. I reached out for it and picked it up, thinking how miraculous it was he hadn't taken it for himself to wear. As I looked back down, I noticed it was on a sheet of paper I had never seen before that had strange markings of a transmutation circle on it. Markings that looked strangely similar to the one Ed and Al had shown me that had appeared on my stomach. I couldn't make out some of the symbols, the paper was so old, but something told me to take it. I placed that into my backpack as well and moved to place my necklace back over my neck. I halted a moment, remembering what happened the last time I had done that, and allowed myself a preparatory breath before I did it again.

The same warmth and shocking jolt of energy rushed through me, and I crumbled a moment to my knees, groaning in pain, but it was over in an instant, and the necklace was back where it belonged. I looked around the desk to see if there was anything else important I should take with me. When I found nothing of importance, I made my way to the door again. I couldn't see out the window just as I couldn't see in it before, and so I swung it open to the female soldier, looking down on me. My throat closed and my eyes went wide as I watched her with her hand on her hip over her gun. To my surprise, she stepped to the side, motioning for me to pass. I stepped narrowly, backing down the corridor to the next train car. As I put my hand on the handle, she removed her gun from her waist, and for a moment, I thought she'd point it at me. But instead, she aimed her gun above me, shooting at the interior wall above the door, lowering her hand just slightly. She let off another round, and I flinched.

"You might want to do something before I draw this gun any lower," she said. I nodded vigorously, catching her drift.

"Sorry in advance," I said, clapping my hands together and slamming them to the ground. I uprooted the floor beneath her, and she fell backward, another shot of her gun firing off into the ceiling, popping a light. I reluctantly pinned her there with the floor, and I stood, looking over her.

"Hey, I'm fine, get going," she groaned out, and I clenched my fists.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Leena, but why—"

I opened the door to the cold wind rushing into the room, and the train whistle blew shrilly, drowning her out a moment before dying down.

"Thank you, Leena," I said, stepping down. She nodded slightly. "Don't die."

I shut the door. I looked up at the car ahead, realizing it was the coal car. I climbed up the ladder to the side, the wind whipping my hair around my face. A strong gust nearly caused me to slip, and I had a mini heart attack as I clung to the ladder. I slammed my eyes shut, ignoring the dizziness setting in as I climbed higher and higher. I've climbed higher, I told myself, a few rungs away from the top. Not on a moving train, though, I reminded myself, oh so helpfully. I realized I made it, and I flopped down onto the pile of coal, flipping to my back, watching the stars race across the deep blue of the night, outlined by pine and fir.

"I'm jumping over to that train now, so match its speed!" I heard Kimblee yell, and I froze.

"Rodger, Sir!" a voice answered, and I sprung up, some of the coals slipping beneath me. I looked over the edge of the train noticing how fast we were actually going as Kimblee jumped across with ease. I blinked at him a moment and decided that he truly was a monster.

"Hey, there she is!" a voice called behind me.

I turned swiftly and ducked as a bullet flew by. I turned to see soldiers crowding the ladder behind me, urging me to come back, guns aimed at me. The squeak of the brakes startled me most, and I realized that Kimblee had signaled the engineer to fall back. We were quickly losing traction and the other train. There was a chance that if I jumped at the speed we were going into the snow, I'd survive— maybe. Probably not. Ideally, I wanted to harass the conductor a little bit to slow the train on my terms. But as I scrambled over the coals and to the front of the train, I realized I wouldn't have the chance to do that if I got caught by the soldiers gaining on me, and I glanced over at the last car of the adjacent train. I was nearly tackled into the coals by an incoming soldier, but I managed to outrun him, right to the edge of the coal car. The soldier moved to lunge at me again and with nowhere else to go, I crouched down and launched over the wide gap between the tops of the two trains, and for a moment, mid-air, I was sure I was finished. But a second later, I slammed into the cold and unforgiving metal of the train and found a grip along the edge of the ridged roof, my lower half dangling from the car. I looked back to see that the train I leaped from had fallen back considerably, the conductor unaware of my escape.

I let myself exhale a moment before the whole structure rocked, and after a loud boom, I was caught in a cloud of black smoke. I choked on it, feeling small bits of debris graze me as it flew by, my ears ringing from the explosion. I gripped down as hard as I could, the coughs rocking my shoulders, and I could feel myself slipping. I couldn't see, so I kicked my foot out, searching for a ledge, but I didn't find one. I was losing grip strength quicker than I liked, and the train was still running at a steady pace. I wondered briefly if I should have just chanced it with the snow. I swung my lower body up instead, stretching my leg out. Once I managed to swing a leg over the edge of the roof, just like I had done when I was too impatient to wait at meets for the ladder out of the pool, I hoisted myself up using all the strength I had up and onto the roof. I breathed heavily, crawling on my hands and knees to the middle of the roof, finding safety there. I looked down, seeing Scar and Kimblee standing off below me. They looked like they had just been fighting, and Scar picked up a piece of pipe that was likely a part of the destroyed structure behind them. He threw it with a malicious grunt, and it struck Kimblee through, and he slammed into the train car I laid upon with a sickening outcry. I clung to the top fiercely and cringed hearing him groan as Scar came closer. It didn't look like he had spotted me, his eyes full of blood lust, focused solely on Kimblee.

"Good to know you remember my brother," Scar growled. "I'll deal with you just as you dealt with him." He rose his arm, and my heart stopped in my throat. Kimblee coughed.

"It's quite a shame… that twice now I failed to kill the same Ishvalen mongrel when I've had him in my sights," he said, clapping his hands together. Scar's face tensed as Kimblee pressed his hands into the mechanism that connected the train car he and I were on to the one Scar was on. I quickly realized what was happening as sparks of red flew out around us, and with a blast, the two cars were separated. I sprung to my knees as Kimblee prattled off. "It's terribly humiliating to have to leave when we were just getting things started here. Don't worry— we'll settle this next time, Ishvalen!"

The car behind us was quickly losing traction and I realized we were attached to the engine, still in motion. I had to make a choice— Kimblee or the snow. I chose the snow. I slid from the top of the structure, holding on to the edge in a moment of impulsive self-preservation, and my eyes met Kimblee's for a split second as I mustered the courage to let go. I flew back, blown away by the force of the rushing wind coming from the train, and I fell hard, much harder than I was expecting, tumbling into the trees. I cried out as my fall was halted by a tree trunk, snapping into my back as my body curved around it uncomfortably. I could barely breathe, the breath knocked from my lungs. The tree shook upon impact, releasing sheets of snow gathered about the branches, falling over me in icy clumps. I couldn't shake it off, momentarily paralyzed. My breathing hastened, something stinging in my side, preventing me from taking a deep breath. I could hear Scar yelling Kimblee's name and the squeaking of the wheels as the disabled car screeched to a stop. I tried to open my eyes, but my vision was spotted with stars and not the ones I had gazed up at earlier. A wave of nausea crashed over me as I moved to sit up, and I fell back to the ground, slamming my eyes shut. I heard the crunching of snow, and I managed to flutter them open to see boots approaching me, but I couldn't look up at their owner. I tried again to move, pushing up from the ground.

"You're that girl," a voice rang out echoey in my ears as nausea took over and I lost my dinner. I managed to sit up against the tree when I finished, and Scar stood over me, his red eyes ablaze. No, no, this isn't good at all, I thought, trying to stand, only to fall face-first into the snow at his feet. Damnit, why isn't my body cooperating? "What were you doing with Kimblee?" His tone was angry and demanding, but I couldn't form the coherent sentence he wanted from me.

"Who's she?" another voice said, belonging to a shrill man with thinning hair, who certainly wasn't Dr. Marcoh. My eyes closed without my permission, the world growing darker and darker each second. Don't you dare pass out, I threatened myself, but I just wouldn't listen.

A whole day early, wow! I wanted to post this chapter on the actual first anniversary of TWA, so here we are! Happy Tuesday, y'all! Lol. And thank you for the break and the birthday wishes, it was lovely! I appreciate it more than you know. We'll be back to our regular Wednesday schedule next week, but I thought this would be a nice little treat. Whew! What a chapter! It was crazy and nuts to write, but I am so glad I wrote it. Having Hughes back in action and exploring a bit more about how he got to where he is has been so stupidly fun for me. It makes me so happy to see him happy at home. And now they're housing some extra guests too, who seem to be getting close— I have to say, exploring the relationship between Elias and Winry through the lens of what they've been through and what they've lost as well as overcome has been a real treat, and I'm glad to see the feedback there! I was a bit nervous about how it would be taken, but that seems to be the direction the story is taking me haha. And Marina is actually starting to think before she does, it's a Christmas miracle! That's not to say she's got a full grip on the concept yet, but she's moving in the right direction. Thanks for sticking with her as she grows up before our very eyes. I appreciate it more than you know. So, now what? Where the hell are Ed and Al? Do they know what's going on? What's Kimblee gonna do? Or Scar? Marina escapes one psycho only to run into another. I can't wait to (hopefully) answer these questions and more next chapter!

And now, something sappy; today, the 18th of May, is a year since I started and posted my story. What started as a silly little way to pass the time and relive some nostalgia from a past I didn't get to fully enjoy became something near and dear to my heart. I've taken so much pride in bringing my characters and my story to life, and I have to acknowledge how proud I am of myself for sticking with it and for having such a good time doing it. I know it's not yet finished, but I already feel like I've proven to that little girl all those years ago that her ideas weren't all that crazy, and she very well could create something valuable simply because it meant something to her. I wasn't sure if people would like or hate my story. I definitely wondered to myself if it was something I should even share or just keep to myself. But I'm so glad I shared it. I'm so glad I gave it the chance to thrive beyond me, to let it resonate with people I've never met a day in my life and impact them the way I was when I read such brilliant stories as a kid and even now. I'm forever grateful that I had the means and the opportunity to create something that both fulfilled me in an unsure time in my life and gave me courage that I had every capacity to make writing my career. I wrote the story I couldn't then. I wrote the story I had always wanted to read. I wrote a monster of a story, and it's not over yet. I wrote a fanfiction of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood and I'll be proud of it forever. I'll see y'all next week, take care.