100 - Caution Signs

With a knee on the chair, a foot on the floor, his forearm on the table, a pencil behind his ear, and another in his hand, Alphonse carefully etched out the final lines of a transmutation circle. Al leaned back from his latest with a grin, rather proud of himself for his ingenuity on it, and added it to his pile of transmutations he was going to test out when he joined his brother north. Grabbing another sheet, Al laid down a perfect circle in graphite and leaned over the table as he tried to think up which of the many experiments with the otherworld's alchemy he wanted to plot out next.

Al didn't even flinch when a knock came to the door, he just called: "I'm busy!" which had been his answer all day, regardless if he was busy or not.

The knock came again and Izumi's voice rang out, "That's too bad."

"Oops," Al scrambled away from his table and stumbled to the door to let his teacher in, "you're back!"

With tired rings under her eyes from a ride that was far too long, the woman's hands sat firmly on her hips, "What kind of answer is 'I'm busy'?"

"Sorry, it wasn't for you," Al apologized sheepishly, "Lt. Colonel Armstrong got another batch of hands overnight and people keep coming by to make sure everything's 'in order' up here."

Izumi ruffled Al's hair and walked in, "Armstrong barely had time to talk to me after I got in. Hopefully nobody asks too many questions before the man in charge gets back."

Al giggled, straightening his hair, "Yeah…"

Drawing her arms up and folding them across her chest, the young man's teacher looked around his impressively neat and tidy room: bed made, floor clear, furniture put back in their homes, everything wiped down, curtains closed to keep the heat out, and the fan that had been transmuted into the window now sat humming on the floor. Izumi nearly laughed, it was so impressive, "You lost all your freeloaders and now it looks like an adult lives here."

Sitting back down at his table, Al grinned at the compliment given to his preference of a neat and tidy workspace, "They're both all-out organizers, I think better when everything's a bit more put together."

Izumi turned her attention off the suite and peered over his work, "What's all this?"

Al's smile nearly burst. Like a child proudly showing off his hard work, Al hopped to his knees on the chair, snatched up his stack of papers, and handed them to his teacher, "I've been trying to think up transmutations using the symbols from beyond the Gate and mixing them with ours. I'm trying to push their formulas and see how far they go. Then, I'll test them when we get up north."

Leafing through the stack of papers in her hand, Izumi marvelled at the seemingly endless pool of energy Al had. As she flipped to the bottom pages a slip of paper flew out, and Izumi put aside Al's works to collect it from the floor. The teacher brought the unfolded sheet of four transmutation factors drawn with precision by Ed's hand back up to eye level.

"It's comforting to know at least one of you isn't on my worry list at the moment."

Sinking back on his knees in the chair, Al didn't like anything about that sentiment and he frowned at her, "What did my brother do now?"

Izumi sighed, folded the sheet, and handed it back to Al, "I can't say he's done anything."

Tucking the sheet into his pocket, Al's brow fell further - Izumi wasn't one to bring up an issue if there wasn't something to be concerned about, "Well, did things go okay with Wrath?"

"Overall, yes. He's on his way," Izumi sat down in the adjacent chair at Al's table and strummed her fingers on the chair arm, "did you boys notice anything odd with Wrath's behaviour right before he left?"

Everything about Wrath had been odd lately, but Al wasn't sure if he'd noticed anything beyond how he acted around his brother, "Nothing other than the trance, why?"

"His behaviour was off," Izumi's brow creased as she thought back to the pinned creature in the van who silently glared at her, "he didn't put up much of a fight when I loaded him in the van, he didn't cause trouble during the trip, and I didn't have any problem attaching his AutoMail either. For the most part, there was no screaming, no fussing, no howling, just some struggling and growling until pretty much the tail end of things."

Al rubbed his chin in thought - Wrath had spent most of his time in the basement being a howling nuisance, the only tame version the younger Elric could imagine was the one who wasn't high on Red Stones, but his teacher would have thought of that, "He probably didn't give any reason why, huh?"

The woman's heavy, dark gaze remained tangled in her memories, "the only thing he mentioned was he'd lost interest in your brother's arm and leg."

"Lost interest?" Al's golden eyes popped wide as he sat up high on his knees, "how? Getting my brother's arm and leg was half his vocabulary."

Still unable to make heads nor tails of her dispatch of Wrath, Izumi would have loved it if the stars had aligned and Al had given her an answer, "Yes, it was, but he didn't want them any more. He said they were too loud."

Al twisted his face while he tried to rationalize what his teacher had said, "Too loud ?"

"Too loud," sitting back in the chair and folding her arms, Izumi's expression darkening as her brow weighed down over her eyes.

Al withdrew into his thoughts and tried to see if there had been anything in their trips to the basement that could explain Wrath's change in desire, or even a slight change in behaviour, but he consistently came up with nothing, "… AutoMail is clearly louder."

"And, unfortunately, I couldn't get much more out of him," Izumi tisked at a situation she wished had surfaced sooner, "we didn't have the luxury of buggering around to find out."

Unable to offer his teacher any clues to solve the mystery, Al could only shrug, "At least he's on his way to Dante's."

Izumi took a sharp inhale and abruptly drilled her tired gaze into the younger Elric, "And that's something we need to talk about."

"I'm coming with you," every time his teacher found a reason to be concerned, she approached Alphonse again, and every time Al was prepared for it, "we're doing this together."

Izumi ran a hand over her hair with a sigh.

Folding his pudgy arms firmly, Al's well-rehearsed determination set firmly in his tone, "The reason we're here right now is because I set out and I intend to see things through. I have these hands and this head I can use, and now that my brother is home I can protect him and you with them."

The declaration was practically a memorized script now and Izumi had to fight to keep a stern look in her eyes, "I'm not questioning your convictions, Al. It's just hard for me to not see you as the little boy you started out as a few months ago."

"I know," a grin wormed its way into his steadfast expression, "and that's exactly what I'm counting on working in my favour against Dante. As long as she thinks I'm that same Alphonse she dumped at the Gate, she won't be able to see all the extra I have on the inside to take care of things."

Her gaze drifting off, Izumi spoke quietly, "I hope it's as big of a payoff as you're counting on it being."

"It will be!" Alphonse's eleven-year-old voice squeaked out his proclamation, doing very little to bolster his teacher's confidence.

Deciding to leave well enough alone, Izumi brought her attention back to the here and now, "Where's your brother? Armstrong wants to see him and he wasn't in his room when I checked."

"He's probably still in Winry's room," Al laughed, settling down on his knees in the chair, "he was passed out there this morning when I brought her breakfast."

Rising from the chair, Izumi left the younger brother to his own entertainment, "Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

"Be careful going to her room though," Al issued the warning, his brows wiggling up and grin running wide, "the moment you walk in, Winry's going to tell you all about Rockbell AutoPlane."

Questioning the amused look the younger Elric wore, Izumi couldn't help but ask, "AutoPlane?"

"I didn't quite get it," Al answered with a laugh, "but she's really excited and I think it kept her up all night."

Accepting the warning, Izumi cautiously headed out of the room.

Of all of the things of day-to-day life Mustang couldn't stand, his eye patch gave all his other annoyances a new perspective. He had no choice on the matter, his right eye was ruined and he was a far stranger sight without a patch than he was with it, but he was certain he would never, ever get used to it, or stop silently despising it. The black facial patch he'd chosen had come after months of trial and error and, since he could never decide which one he liked, the officer chose one that was most comfortable.

So, in terms of 'comfortable', this new eye patch Mustang put on ranked maybe at 'two'. It was a small, brown, leather-bound triangle with a single thin leather cord that just felt awful. He taped a piece of gauze over his eye to hopefully avoid giving himself a blister every time he moved his eyebrow. And, in a way, the gauze helped make the injury look new again, and that would help with his disguise at least.

A button-up white cotton shirt, grey workman's overalls, some well-worn brown boots, a linen flat cap, and the wretched eye patch came courtesy of a thrift store he'd sifted through before leaving Central. Hawkeye wore much the same, her hair tucked in tightly beneath her cap, and she added a burlap shoulder bag to her ensemble.

Together, the duo walked the noonhour streets of Xenotime.

By comparison to the more notable cities, Xenotime was in decline, and the deterioration was noticeable throughout a town that seemed to have more closed up shops and vacant dwellings than ones that were occupied. Ore mining was only as lucrative as the cheapest labour would allow, but unlike the rural time capsules Mustang and his company had just gone through, Xenotime was at least alive. People were in the streets. Businesses were open. Daily life looked to be happening. And, as expected of a mining town, the people walking the streets were predominantly wives and mothers with their young children - clearly there was at least one school for the older ones. The most abnormal thing Mustang took note of was the strange number of newer, modern vehicles that had been parked on the streets, in lots, or just tucked away in alleys.

Other than the looming laboratory built into the mountain overlooking the town, Mustang couldn't really tell which way the town's men would have gone for their day's mining work. Nothing was plainly obvious.

So, on a crisp summer's day late in July, Roy Mustang found a sorry looking dive and went to the bar. Someone had to be drowning in alcohol over the lunch hour and he would find their server and put this mission back on track. Hawkeye opted to keep her lunch outside, so she could keep an eye on things and be free of the thick indoor stench.

The moment he stepped inside the building, Mustang had to wonder if his partner hadn't had the better idea. The stagnant air was heavy with heat, thick with cigarettes and alcohol, and the open windows barely circulated the stew of smells that added bad feet and body odour to the mix the deeper he moved. The officer wondered if any of their barracks had ever smelt this repugnant.

The closer he got to the wooden bar counter, the more the smells shifted from men drowning at their tables to a rich mix of food from the kitchen - though Mustang wasn't sure he was actually hungry given the scents lingering in his nostrils.

With nobody else at the counter, Mustang became the only person to occupy a bar stool. His one eye caught a plump, middle-aged woman, who must have been the daytime barkeep, and she looked him over several times, but put no effort into coming to serve him. When she finally eyeballed him once more, the officer in disguise waved a few fingers at her. She rolled her eyes into the back of her head before lumbering over.

"I don't know your face," she greeted him with a heavy voice.

Shrugging, Mustang tried to keep the conversation lighter, "Well, judging by everyone in here, I seem to need a drink as well."

"Do you?" her words were sarcastically slow. The woman's brow wandered high and her eyes bulged as she seemed to be holding him in contempt.

Clearing his throat, Mustang tried to ease the tension in the air, "I get the feeling you've found me guilty of something, and I'd like to apologize for it, I'd just like to know what I'm apologizing for first."

She narrowed an eye at him, "You're certainly the smoothest talker of them. So which is it, you with some newspaper or just some gold digger?"

Oh, that was a very interesting question Mustang hadn't seen coming. Newspapers would explain the cars, but gold digger was new, "Neither, to be honest. I'm just traversing towns looking for work."

The older woman pursed her lips, flatted her brow, and she responded flatly, "If you're looking for gold, don't trust what the government's been babbling on about and get. We got no work for leeches."

Mustang had only been off the grid for a few days and he was already several steps behind, "Madame, I assure you, I'm not looking for gold, just looking to put my hands to work and make enough to spend the night in a decent bed before I move on."

For no reason he could see, the woman burst out into a raucous, heavy laugh. Mustang found nothing in his words that led to it, so he simply waited her amusement out, hoping it would die down.

"Son, the first thing I saw on you were those well-kept hands. They ain't good for work here in Xenotime - we do manual labour in these mountains," the amusement in her voice abruptly died, "if you have no proper questions for me, Mister Reporter, get out or I'll ask my husband to remove you."

His pleasant demeanour finally beginning to crumble, Mustang both mentally cursed and praised the observant older woman. Maybe he could rearrange his approach for a woman with a good amount of wit about her. He cleared his throat.

"Madame, I want to assure you that I'm neither a reporter nor a gold digger. I want nothing to do with either of those, if I'm to be perfectly honest," Mustang gave a laugh to her concern with reporters then lowered his voice in case any of the drunkards were actually sobering up, "crossing a reporter is well off my to-do list. I'd rather not see one and I'd very much prefer if one not see me. That said, I haven't seen the right side of civilization in days. What's the concern with reporters and since when did Xenotime have gold again?"

A little surprised with the forthright statement, the plump woman examined him once more before she folded her arms, straightened up, and stared back at him. She offered no answer.

Reaching into his hip pocket, Mustang pulled out a handful of coins, "I'll have whatever's on tap and the lunch special."

"Do you even know what my lunch special is?" she scowled.

"I'm sure it's delicious," Mustang smiled.

The barkeep's eye remained on him as she stepped away to fill a foaming glass. She slid it down the counter to him and then marched the length of her bar counter, throwing her head beyond a set of swinging doors, bellowing instructions for what Mustang assumed was the lunch special. Her interrogative look returned to the disguised officer as Mustang taste-tested a beer that was surprisingly decent, and then put his elbow on the counter and plunked his chin down in the palm of his hand. Wiping her hands on her apron, the woman walked the length of the counter back over to him.

"Government setting up shop in the laboratory brought those fiction writers from East City out here. Then they called a press conference after some yahoos in Central City made them look like they couldn't tell their asses apart from a hole in the ground. More of those radio folk swarmed in, but they ain't welcome up at the lab, so they're bothering us. Government clowns patted themselves on the back over the radios and announced gold was found in the mountains just north of here, but nobody local can confirm that. Just sounds like a distraction so the reporters can question why the city with a history like ours is harbouring the country's cowardly 'political leaders'. Everybody just wants them to go back to Central City so they can take their ass kickin' like real men."

Mustang loved every bitter word this cranky woman let him hear. Nearly every syllable was gratifying - Dante was being forced to dance and the officer felt so childish about his delight over it. Indulging in his beer once more, Mustang replied with the first self-satisfying comment that came to mind, "Forcing the government to act like a governing body is a novel concept. I wish them all the best of luck for something so futile."

The woman folded her arms across her heavy chest and a grumble radiated through her throat, "I just wish they'd get the hell out of here. We've had enough problems, don't need more news bullshit here. We're just trying to live."

"That you are, yes," offering a sigh to the dilemma of a woman forced to live as the plaything of someone looming over them from above, Mustang offered a sentiment, "I wouldn't trust their reports of gold either until someone more trustworthy can verify it. In the meantime, why not enjoy the money your annoyances bring in?"

A hearty chuckle bounced out of the barkeep, "Oh, we've been helping ourselves to their money, but we'd rather they all find their way back to East City at least and let us move on."

"Personally," Mustang sat back on his stool and stretched his arms above his head, "I would love to return to East City, too. But, I actually am in need of work in order to get there and be damned if I can find where all your sober men have gone."

"That's cause they're off busting their asses!" finally drawing something more pleasant out of her - a sassy smirk, the woman's eyes followed his hands as they came back to the counter again, "You're going to mess up your hands doing dirty work here in Xenotime, though."

Mustang took a look at the well-kept state of his right hand while his left went back to his beer glass; he did take a bit of extra care to keep his hands in good condition - they served multiple important purposes, "I'm certain they'll be able to survive a bit of a challenge."

"Well," the woman took a peek at her kitchen doors before looking at him again, "if you head to the north east corner of town, you'll see a road venturing around the mountain. Shift lets out at five-thirty and you can just follow the stench of those poor boys to their shift supervisor at the mining entrance. Let him know you're offering piecework labour and he'll set you up for tomorrow's shift. He's a rancid, cheap ass though - don't expect him to pay you much."

"Thank you," Mustang lifted his beer glass in toast to her.

The hefty woman shook her head at the gesture. A garbled voice bellowed and the barkeep swiftly turned and marched down her counter, taking hold of a plate handed to her through swinging doors. A lunch made up of a toasted, meaty sandwich soaked in a runny sauce of some sort and a mashed mystery side was presented to Mustang with a knife and fork and nothing more.

"Don't complain if you don't like it."

No, he wouldn't complain at all. Not a bit. With his questions taken care of, all the officer had to concern himself with for the next little while was how he was going to tackle eating his mystery lunch.

Ed groaned at the sight of himself. He looked so ridiculous.

His reflection in the mirror was given a disgusted look.

What the hell was he doing in this getup? How did he agree to this? It felt like he'd finally become the brunt of a joke. Ed wanted to change. He wanted to take his hair out. This was a nightmare.

Ed slogged himself back up to the third floor and dragged his overdressed self down the hall. Considering how much he was wearing, he felt unreasonably exposed. Maybe it was his face. Was the floor always this bright? He walked past Al's door; his brother was downstairs by now. Ed passed his own room; well, it wasn't his room any longer. He stopped at Winry's door; he might need alcohol to handle her reaction to this.

With a deep breath through his nose, Ed puffed his chest and opened her door, "Win?"

Standing high on her knees, her arms folded crossly, the glare Winry had cast on her tool kit was snapped to Ed at the door, and the mechanic pointed a screwdriver at him.

"I TOLD YOU TOo… oo… what?" Winry's voice tamed, her words tumbled, and the screwdriver went limp in her hand, "why do you look like that?"

Ed straightened up in the doorway and marched himself into the room. He adjusted his pants at the waistline, straightened his jacket, ran his hands over his completely pulled back hair, snapped his arms straight at his sides, and put the heels of his boots together when he stopped before her.

Winry gawked at him in disbelief, "W-wh-who got you… how? Ed, that… that is a military uniform."

"It was Armstrong's idea," Ed grumbled at his undesired presentation, "he wants me 'in disguise'."

"Uh huh," Winry remained a little dumbstruck at what stood before her and she waved the screwdriver at him like a magic wand, "a-and that is a disguise. Yes."

Ed's grumble transformed into a grumble with a scowl.

Twirling her screwdriver through her fingers, Winry finally snatched it in her hand again, pointed it at Ed, and used it to beckon him closer. He begrudgingly complied and marched forwards, bringing his scowl up to the edge of the bed. Winry collected the ends of her knee length skirt and shuffled over to scan this odd looking Edward Elric with her wide, tired eyes from his knees all the way up into his exposed face, then brazenly tapped his nose with her screwdriver.

"It's like I don't even know who you are anymore," she tried hard to sound horrified and not grin.

Ed's eyes slit and he growled in annoyance, "Did you even try to have a nap?"

"I tried ," Winry laughed.

"You better sleep in the car," Ed looked around at Winry's tidied room, lit bright by the opened curtains welcoming the afternoon sun, "Are you ready to go?"

Winry looked over her successfully organized belongings and closed the lid to her tool case, "I guess. My tool kit's not perfect but it's as good as its going to get, and I've packed my one whole spare shirt, skirt, undies, and nightshirt."

Ed's smirk curled towards her, "So, you took you two seconds to pack your things and two hours to pack your tool kit."

Winry huffed and she pointed the screwdriver at her tool case on the bed, "It needed sorting and re-organizing. I managed to convince some nice military helpers to buy me a couple new tools and I got a few neat new parts out of their scrounging too. Everything needs to fit precisely."

Ed nearly laughed when he realized what she'd done, "You used Mustang's money to upgrade your tools?"

Winry puffed up, "Did you guys want Wrath's leg done properly or not?"

Ed narrowed his gaze, "Where's my discount, then?"

Winry scowled, "No discounts."

Ed rolled his eyes.

Turning around, Ed let Winry climb onto his back for their trip downstairs. She wrapped her legs tightly around Ed's waist, giving him free use of his arms to carry her things - the most awkward of which was her tool case. The moment he tried to pick it up off her bed, Ed had a number of questions: How many tools were actually in here? Did she really carry this around regularly? Was it a lethal weapon? It wasn't that he had a problem lifting it, it was just unexpectedly heavy.

Heaving the tool kit off Winry's bed, the bottom latch caught her bag of personal things and spilled its contents to the floor. Winry smacked Ed upside the head for it and he groaned, put the tool kit back down, and backed up to the bed so Winry could get off.

Reaching down to collect the mess of papers and fabric, Ed stopped when he saw what lay in the bed of Winry's spilt clothes: the patchworked face of the fabric doll he'd once commissioned a seamstress to make looked back at him. Fallen at his feet like he'd last seen in his nightmares, once dirtied, bloodied, and ruined on a cold, filthy floor, the doll looked back at him with her damage patched, blood scrubbed away, and broken seams re-stitched. Crouching down, Ed collected the gift in his hand.

His words were lost, "Where'd…"

"She came back with us," Winry came up on her knees and grabbed the back of his blue jacket, pulling him until he sat down on the bedside. She peered in over his shoulder and smiled, "Al stitched her up while we were recovering."

The daylight flooding in over their shoulders, Ed held the doll in the shadow his body cast and stared at the patch Al had sewn in to repair it. Turning it over in his hand, he examined the washed out stains on the dress of a gift he hadn't wrapped. He didn't want Winry to unwrap it, it felt like too much fuss, so Ed had just slipped into her room and left it on her pillow before going downstairs. He could remember it like he'd done it yesterday.

Heavy golden eyes stared at the gift mended with care by hands at home, "Al did a good job fixing her up."

Putting her chin down on his shoulder, Winry leaned against Ed's back and snuck an arm in to pinch one of the doll's feet in her fingers. Ed sat silently and watched Winry toy with the hem of the doll's dress, eventually turning it over in his hands once more to look back at them. Slowly running his thumb along the seam of the patch his brother had sewn into the doll's face to seal it, Ed still couldn't shut down the memory of the moment it was damaged.

The memory of most of the damage was still very present and real. The feeling of Winry's white-knuckle fingers clawing into his abdomen still resonated if he let his mind wander. The pressure of her face burrowing into his back while Envy had his way with him still existed where she rested now. The sound of a gun firing in one ear and the sound of sick pleasure in the other still existed in the silence of Winry's room. The whole thing made him nauseous and was still robbing him of his sleep; it was hard to stomach how badly he'd lost to Envy and what it was like to be left at his mercy. Ed wished he could just keep wailing on Hess, it was easier to do than look at himself on the ground as Envy's toy and acknowledge he'd been that scared.

Ed took a deep, staggering breath, and curled forwards, popping up to his feet. Squatting down, he collected Winry's things back into her bag and dropped it back on the bed. Sitting back down in the brightly lit afternoon room, Ed looked at the doll that remained in his hand. He told memories he didn't want where they could go and offered Winry the gift he'd had made for her, for a holiday he didn't celebrate, because it was supposed to remind her of home.

Winry looked at the offering, then moved the soft look up to Ed, "You're okay?"

His voice was faintly hoarse, "Yeah."

Carefully, Winry took her doll back and emptied his hand, then put her own hand in to fill the vacancy. She tucked the gift away in her bag and placed the hand she'd collected on her knee, then sat back and looked into the eyes of an Elric who had too much going on in his head to remember to blush while she held his hand.

Winry offered his burdens a distraction, "Are you going to be able to get us downstairs without dropping anything this time, Officer?"

Ed dropped his head back and groaned. Reminded that he was dressed in this horrendous uniform, Ed got back to his feet, gave Winry's arm a yank as she laughed at him, and met her quip with a frown, "I can go get your crutches and you can figure out how to do it yourself if you're unhappy."

Popping onto her knees, Winry waddled up to the edge of the bed, dipped her head down so she could look at him from beneath a forcefully flattened brow, and met him nose to nose with a sassy tone, "I'm just making sure you don't give me a reason to complain to your supervisor, Officer Elric."

In a flash, Winry watched the tired weight vanish from Ed's eyes. Maybe it was because all his hair was pulled out of his face that it created some sort of illusion, but Winry could have sworn she'd never seen Ed's eyes light up with a much mischievous intent as they did right then. In what felt like a single motion, Ed took a step back, grabbed Winry's shirt at her stomach, and yanked her towards him. He bent down as she scrambled to catch herself, put his shoulder into her stomach to catch her, wrapped an arm around her backside, and Ed heaved Winry over his shoulder as she shrieked.

"I'll give you something to actually complain about," Ed announced and took a few staggered steps to steady himself. He puffed out his cheeks as he held his breath; with Winry squirming this was actually a lot harder than it was in his head.

Winry looked around in panic, her hair falling in the way of everything she tried to see as her hands gripped the back of his shirt and jacket, "EDWARD ELRIC PUT ME DOWN."

"In a minute," thankful for her long skirt, Ed adjusted the arm pinning her at her thighs and turned to pick up her tool case and bag of things with his free hand.

"NO, not a minute! Put me down," Winry continued to scream, yanking on his shirt, "RIGHT NOW."

"You can't even give me a discount on the AutoMail," Ed took a deep breath, got his balance aligned with everything he needed to carry, and marched towards Winry's door, "and now you're bitching about your free ride."

"ED!"

"DUCK!"

Winry ducked as he marched her out the door.

In places like Xenotime, the town's life faded when everyone turned in for the dinner hour. By six-thirty, nearly nothing was alive, except those in their homes. Around seven or eight in the evening the few bars the town survived on, the places that catered to those needing an escape, began thriving. For everyone else, nothing but a quiet evening was in store until the sun set and everyone headed to bed.

Xenotime was holding onto the point where the sun was still up, but it had fallen behind the upper reaches of the mountains, and it blanketed the town in warm shadows. The aging houses moving towards a quiet night exhaled their final warm breaths of dinner. A few upstart children had either snuck out, or been kicked out, of their homes to burn off the last of their energies, all the while the minutes ticked closer and closer to bedtime at sundown.

As the last of the sly children avoiding sleep tried to navigate the shadows of outdoor clutter, one ducked in behind a hedge to hide from her parents one last disobedient time. As she settled quietly into her hiding spot, the bush breathed, and the child swiftly turned over her shoulder and was greeted by the bush's terrifying, wild purple eyes.

A scream heard for blocks caused the hedge to explode and Wrath flew into the air above the frightened girl's head, then crashed through the window of her house.

Doors throughout the neighbourhood popped open at the sound of a scream and shattered glass, everyone perplexed over what would cause a commotion so close to sundown. Chaos in the house Wrath had entered erupted, the number of screaming and yelling voices rose, and finally the front door burst off its hinges as Wrath landed in the street. The eyes of the neighbourhood looked at the feral homunculus; a gangly, dirty, poorly-dressed creature that stood in a wide, hunched stance. The refreshed AutoMail leg glowed orange in the final light at sundown and his purple eyes burned through the mess of black, matted hair covering Wrath's upper body.

The owner of the invaded house flew onto his porch and pointed his hunting rifle at what had turned his evening upside down, "JANE, get your backside into the cellar with your mother."

The child, whose scream allerted the neighbours to the scene, dashed into the house behind her father without a word.

"You some sort of rabid, wild child?" the man demanded from Wrath, keeping note of his armed neighbours in the periphery who'd started appearing.

Wrath's purple gaze flew wide and, with an ear-piercing wail, he charged the man pointing the rifle. Absorbing three shots into his body like they were nothing, Wrath turned in mid air and crushed the heels of his feet into the shocked man's chest, sending him thundering into the doorframe and crumpling to the ground.

The voices of the neighbourhood flared up and Wrath suddenly found himself facing a thin crowd approaching with their rifles ready. Of the men who approached the homunculus, one chose to fire on Wrath again, and the accumulation of onlookers and window perched observers watched a creature that never once flinched at a gunshot that his body inexplicably swallowed. The revelation sent a rippling shockwave through all the concerned eyes, everyone recoiling, and Wrath eventually turned to take on the next man who dared to shoot at him.

An older, hardened, burly man with a thick beard spun his rifle around and cracked the charging homunculus across the head, batting him away. Wrath bounced off the ground, managing to land on his feet steadily enough that he sprung at the man once again, only to be met by the butt end of the rifle thrust into his face. Wrath landed on the dusty road, grabbing at his head.

"Don't think some rabid child scares me, I've worked in these hills through five of your life times," the older man's deep, exasperated voice boomed for anyone witnessing the scene to hear, "if guns ain't workin' on it - put your kids in the cellar and get your bats! Someone grab a rope and chains, we're gonna need a wrangler."

Wrath swung back to his feet and looked out at a handful of scowling, tired men who began to flank him, switching their firearms for blunt objects. Those watching from windows shuttered their vantage points. Instead of charging at anyone, Wrath chose to dart away. Items in hand were thrown, bouncing off the homunculus uselessly, and Wrath effortlessly cleared a fence in a single leap. Dashing between houses, Wrath burst out into the adjacent street and was unexpectedly flipped head over heels when someone's unlit torch swung through his hips. Landing flat on his back, Wrath quickly bounced up again, and he held his ground while his body swallowed gunfire directed at him from all angles. Not a single bullet fazed him and Wrath finally offered a scowl to his onlookers while their concerns soared.

"Are we even hitting it?"

"How did something like that get AutoMail?"

"He's not even bothered."

"That thing can't be human."

"Where are the chains?"

When the sound of clanking chain links hit the dirt, Wrath took off again. This time the growing mob began raising their voices as the event travelled through the neighbourhood. The swelling groups of armed men chased the homunculus through streets they were far more familiar with than he was. Wrath's disadvantage sent him astray and he began crashing into homes as he evaded, terrorizing occupants as he failed to shake his pursuers, and each time he re-emerged from a house, a handful of angry people waited to greet him.

Immensely stronger than all of them, Wrath tired of the evasive game and turned to attack the crowds following him. Again, Wrath was handicapped; his missing right arm became an immeasurable disadvantage. He could rip weapons out of people's hands, but couldn't snap them in half. He could try to rip the arm right off a man, but he couldn't get enough leverage. He could try to do anything with his left hand, but find himself subjected to whatever nuisance came at him from the right side.

The moment Wrath engaged a man and substituted his teeth in for the leverage a right arm could have offered, the homunculus was punished by his pursuers. A thick link of chain was whipped across his body. Hands flew in and gripped his mess of hair tightly, yanking him away from the arm he'd begun shredding. His teeth bloodied, the homunculus turned to fight back, but suddenly found himself exposed by a lasso someone had snagged on his left wrist. Wrath was opened up like a gift to all his pursuers.

From that point on, Wrath was hit with things.

The homunculus couldn't identify what things, just heavy things - things that annoyed, and things that hurt, so he tried to run again. With his left arm still tethered to a number of people attempting to slow him, Wrath thrust his pursuers away with his empty shoulder and laid his teeth into whatever else stood in the way. Unable to gain speed or leap over anything, Wrath wrapped his hand around the thick lasso cord and tried to toss the men dragging him into the street. Humanity hung on. The weight continued to immobilize Wrath's only arm and the sound of chain links appeared in his ear again. Before he could react, a set of brave hands snuck in and wrapped the links around the wild homunculus' neck.

Unable to strangle Wrath to death, the man power that swarmed to hold the chain at each end tried to bring Wrath to his knees. Again and again the Xenotime citizens tried to force the bullet proof homunculus to his knees. It wasn't until Wrath started showing that, through leg power alone, he could pull this mass of humanity, and some of them realized more force was needed.

Wrath never saw the full scale of people he'd accumulated in his run through town, but the crowd that finally overpowered him did so by sheer numbers - beating him with whatever was in hand until he was brought to his knees. Unable to fully realizing how it had happened, chains finally bound his ankles so he could not march any farther and all he could do at that point was yell while the townspeople of Xenotime conquered the invasion of Wrath.

Once satisfied he would no longer cause harm, the Xenotime mob stood over their chain-wrapped prisoner in silence, watching him gasp for his breaths and hearing him rage deafeningly, but wordlessly, until his lungs had emptied. With the sun now fallen deep behind the mountains, the house lights and the odd flame torch tried to illuminate the scene.

"What do we do with it?" a despondent voice asked the quiet crowd.

"Secure him in the stables," a woman replied from the back of the scene, "it'll keep him away from the kids and let everyone get some sleep."

"Yeah, let's get this show out of the streets."

A murmur of voices bubbled up in agreement and, as Wrath continued to gasp and wail uselessly, a few brave hands reached in and secured a rope to the chains binding him. Escorted by torchlights, the homunculus was dragged through the streets towards the stables in the Xenotime dusk.

At the back of the lingering crowd, choosing not to follow the escapade that was marching to the edge of town, Roy gave a complimentary nod to Riza as they dispersed with the crowd, "Stables were a good idea, I agree."

She rolled her eyes, "It was your idea."

Roy grinned, "I did not want to be hearing that creature howl all night while I tried to sleep."

Folding her arms and looking back at the fading procession, a disappointed look came across her face, "I feel a little bad for him."

"I don't," Roy scoffed, choosing to not watch the show.

Riza glanced around the tired town, homes buzzing with chatter over the chaos they'd just witnessed, "Do you think she'll go see him tonight? Everyone will probably be talking about this in an hour."

"For our sake, I hope she does," the corners of Roy's mouth folded down, "considering the noise he made, if I were in her shoes, I'd get Wrath out of the public eye as quickly as possible with all the media from East City that's here."

Agreeing with the sentiment, Riza peeked back at the procession, "As long as he's gone by morning, we'll know Dante got the message."

"And we'll proceed with the plan," Roy nodded and turned to his companion that night, "dinner?"

Riza hesitated, "It might be best to just get a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

"My treat," Roy offered with a half grin.

A short laugh popped out of her that night and Riza conceded with a smile that filled Roy's grin.

Even though it came from behind him, Al could sense there was someone suddenly standing in the doorway. However, what caught him off guard when he looked, was that the military figure in the frame was his brother.

Ed's arms tightened across his chest, closing his eyes he grumbled at Al's reaction.

His shoulders riding high, Al cringed a little at the sight, "There will be no lifetime I live where I will be used to seeing you dressed like that."

"I never want there to be another point in my lifetime where I see myself dressed like this again," Ed winced.

Returning the last chair to its place in the room the boys once sparred in, Al backed up to admire the room their teacher had taken apart and they'd put back together. Suddenly shuffling into the room, Ed bumped into Al as he ducked out of the way of the doorframe. Both brothers looked back into the hall as a collection of civilian and military men and women rushed by.

"There're still a lot of people running around this time of day," Al tried to peer around his brother.

"Yeah, when I went to see Armstrong, Lieutenant Breda mentioned they're juggling a lot of people trying to stall for Mustang until he gets his ass back here."

"At least the plan is just Brigitte now," Alphonse still enjoyed the massive sense of relief that came when Russell had contacted Central to update them on the situation, "that should make everything easier."

Stepping into the room a bit farther, Ed's increasingly heavy gaze, unmasked by the absence of the hair in his face, remained focussed out the door. Weighed down by a number of concerns, Ed's voice came out heavy, and it was far more audibly noticeable than normal that the older brother's voice had changed a bit while he'd been away.

"Al, make sure you're careful when you see Dante."

The younger brother flashed a grin up, "I'll be careful."

"Extra careful," Ed scowled, "don't get separated from Sensei."

"I won't," considering how reckless Ed had been trying to act, Al was glad to hear his brother put his concerns into words - they would be both reassuring and motivating.

"Don't get in over your head with her and don't let her get in your head. She's a master manipulator," the words rumbled through Ed's voice.

"We know more about the Gate than she does, I have my memories, I have you, we have Winry, and we know the brigadier general's on her doorstep. I think we're getting Brigitte back with the best hand we've ever had," Alphonse offered his brother his best Elric grin and held up a fist, "plus, Sensei and I barely have to spend much time with her, since the brigadier general only needs to rescue Brigitte. We'll be fine."

Edward matched the Elric grin, clenched his left hand, and bumped his brother's fist. The boys left the room dressed in their grins and headed down the main floor hall towards the building's side stairwell. Bounding a few steps ahead, Al let himself through the door, his grin bursting at the sight of Winry peering around the railing at him.

"Where the hell did you two go?" her voice crashed off the cement walls, "I've been sitting alone in here forever! Where's my hug?"

"You're so bossy," Al laughed and he threw his arms around her, getting tightly squeezed for his efforts.

Eventually letting the younger brother go, Winry peered around the stairwell railing again as Ed let the hallway door shut behind himself. As one shut, another opened, and the heavy sound of a door from one of the upper floors echoed in the stairwell.

Al tossed his voice up the stairs, "Sensei?"

Winry eyed Ed as he leaned against the rail, "Coast all clear, Officer?"

Ed scowled down at her, "Yes, Miss. Rockbell."

The trio's attention was snagged by the expected knock on the back door. Al reached over and turned the latch, but took a startled step back when five military officers filed in.

"Sorry sir, ma'am," the first man who entered stopped to address them, "there's been too much activity lately, Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong ordered extra security."

Winry tightened herself to the railing as one officer ran past her up the stairs. Ed backed himself up against the outside of the railing as another officer marched past him and exited into the hotel hall. Ed narrowed his eyes at the activity and slipped a hand through the stair railing, tapping Winry on the shoulder.

Sticking his head out the side door into the late evening, Al peered into the alley. The van Wrath had been taken in was still parked and the vehicle his brother and Winry were meant to go in had arrived with the engine running idle. At each end of the side alley, a single military officer stood. Al silently questioned that decision - having the alley guarded would draw attention and they were trying to leave with as little fanfare as possible. The military presence was given further thought by the younger Elric; what was the point of sending someone up the stairs? The upstairs floors were nothing but military personnel. Why post a guard in the main floor hall when Mustang wanted no official looking activities taking place there? It was yet another decision that drew attention.

Al looked up and down the side alley again as he came to a realization: all four major points of exit had someone at them and there were three extra bodies clogging up the stairwell with them. The younger brother's brow knotted; there was nothing about this that felt like it lined up with how things should be functioning and Al hated this feeling in his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, Al turned back into the building and stole a glance of his brother who was waiting for him to make eye contact. That told Al all he needed to know and he flashed a childish smile at the three armed officers plugging the side exit as he shut the door.

"I'm so glad you guys care so much."

Ed suddenly raised his voice, launching it abrasively off the cement walls, and he put Armstrong's instincts to good use, "I thought I was assigned to cover this. Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong didn't apprise me of any changes."

"You haven't been removed, Officer," the only man of the three who spoke looked at Ed, "we're simply providing additional support for the transport."

It took all of Al's willpower not to slouch against the door in disappointment while he kept an interrogative eye on the charade.

His right eyebrow twitched involuntarily and Ed gestured down to Winry, who'd placed her toolkit across her lap, "I'm escorting a wounded civilian. The boy's not even part of this, his mum's more than capable of taking care of him. It's a bit too much fuss if you ask me."

"We're not concerned about this woman," the officer looked Winry over while her hands fiddled around the handles of her tool kit.

"Oh," Ed let his voice echo lightly in the stairwell, carefully keeping his sarcasm at bay, "the concern is for Edward Elric, then?"

The response was curt, "Yes."

His body filling with a stew of anger, annoyance, and disappointment, Al nearly smacked the back of his head against the door in frustration. Crap.

Walking around the bottom edge of the stairwell rails, Ed held out his right hand and Winry took it, "Well, then we'll get going and you guys can take care of Mr. Elric when he shows up."

"I'd prefer," the unidentified officer stepped towards Ed, "if we all go together."

"Nah," Ed dragged his voice out and grinned over his shoulder, "we got this."

Ed gripped Winry's hand and yanked her up onto one foot. Both swung around and Winry's right arm flew out, the handle of her tool kit locked in her hand, and she launched the weighted, rock hard casing into the face of one of the two unspoken officers while Ed's fist drilled into the one he'd been talking to.

Al scrambled to steady Winry as she stumbled back from the momentum. Her tool kit crashed to the ground, a scattering of bloody teeth around it, and the first of five unidentified men collapsed to the floor, followed quickly by the next one Ed dropped.

With the older brother tied up containing the last of the loitering trio, Al kept his thoughts focussed on the additional 'officer' somewhere up the stairwell. Down on his knees with Winry at the base of the stairs, Al clapped his hands to create a hole into whatever the adjacent room was for her.

At the moment his hands met, Alphonse felt the power of his transmutation roar back on him. He'd barely gotten comfortable with the hand clap in the first place and he had no idea what was suddenly going on. The surge ran like a cascading electrical charge that was backfiring up his arms, shooting sparks up through his wrists, his forearms, and into his elbows. Clenching his teeth, Al tried to force his body to relax and concentrate, trying to find a way to channel the flow of energy back into the palm of his hands.

His palms landed on the wall with an explosive spark and a mangled cavity large enough for a body to squeeze through opened up.

"Get in there!" glancing up the stairs, Al gave Winry a shove towards the hole before he flew up to deal with the challenger thundering down to him.

Taking the man's legs out would only send him tumbling towards Winry, so Al opted for some height. The lighter, nimble Elric jumped onto the stairwell railing, then hopped up, landing with a foot on the man's shoulder. A harsh hand fished for Al's ankle, but the child-sized Elric wrapped his arms around the man's head, vanished behind his vision, locked his elbow in under the chin, and yanked the man's head back. Al managed to pop his body overhead before his assailant finished falling backwards on the cement stairs. Stumbling down the remaining steps, Al regained his bearings on the main floor.

"The door's locked!"

Alphonse looked to the scene with his brother, much closer to the hallway door now. Ed was holding his own in close quarters against the final man he'd just thrown an elbow into, but the talkative one had just managed to get back up.

Dashing in to give his brother a hand, Al snatched up Winry's toolkit from the floor by its handle, swooped in from below, and heaved the overweight case up into the chin of the combatant who'd just risen, returning him to the floor while Ed laid the final blow down on the last of the impersonating officers.

Ed shook out his right hand and flexed his fingers.

"Did you break something?" Al asked quickly.

"I hope not," Ed snapped his glare to the hotel hallway door, giving it a swift kick, "whoever went through there locked it."

Al scowled at the side exit, "There are two more waiting outside."

Ed matched his brother's scowl, "I'll see if I can open any of the doors on the upper floors. Lock this one permanently so he can't get back in."

The younger Elric spun around and honed his eye on the hallway door, "Got it."

Ed began making his way through the heaps of fallen men and Al dusted his hands off over his thighs. Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, telling his mind to calm, Al flexed his fingers and brought his hands up.

A gust of wind blew over Alphonse's back - it blew straight up his shirt, ran along his spine, and danced through the fine hairs on the back of his neck. It was a chill that went up his spine, not down, and the younger brother's pupils dilated, his heart stopped, and body went numb for a brief moment. He stared straight ahead, completely out of focus. The sound that accompanied the gust of wind was thunderous; it wasn't deafening, it wasn't shattering, but it thundered through him and subjected every inch of Al's body to the tremor it caused. Inexplicably frozen by the sensation, Al fought through the feeling and he peered over his shoulder.

A figure stood firm at the bottom of the stairs, dressed sharply in the Amestris military blues, watching while Ed fell away from the wall and collapsed to the ground, never making a sound. The seam at Al's lips peeled apart and his voice cracked from the gasp he made as Aisa snapped a cold, deadened look over her shoulder and locked it on the small Elric.

Once the townsfolk of Xenotime moved a few horses and donkeys, Wrath was anchored to two smith's anvils that had been hauled in - they'd needed two when the homunculus showed he had enough strength to move a single. Wrath's captors had tried to gag him, but his teeth shredded everything they put near his face. It took until the moon was high for him to fall somewhat docile and the last of the men watching him decided on who would remain behind to watch their captive that night.

As calm settled into the midnight, Dante turned up to claim him. Neither of the night watchmen heard or saw her coming, the only sound Dante made was the handclap she offered before she stopped their hearts.

Arriving like a ghost, the tiny, annoyed devil never let Wrath know she'd appeared until she huffed at him, startling the creature. Her petite expression cross and her eyes flaring with rage, Dante presented herself with more wrath than the homunculus to loomed over. Dolled up in a white nightgown with ruffles that tickled her ankles and bound hair in braids with bows, if Dante had ever managed to master the skill to kill on sight, Wrath's existence would have ended right then and there. Glowering at the scene of a bound homunculus beneath a shoddy wooden stable canopy, she didn't offer any words or salutations, she just simply clapped her hands and released him.

"How did you get here?" Dante abruptly squeaked, producing the most jarring sound a child could make, "how did you manage to lose your arm?"

Gathering himself on hand and knees, Wrath rattled in the chains he'd been bound with, now a discarded mess around his body, "I don't want my arm back."

"Good, I wasn't going to spend any resources to get another one for you." Dante's tiny voice was thick with disregard, practically echoing within the wooden structure, "what do you think you're doing causing this much racket all the way out here? I have enough to focus on with these government baboons. I left you in Central for a reason."

A high pitched, nasally whine cut through the night before Wrath finally cried to her, "I don't want to be there anymore."

"That's too bad," Dante replied like a parent scolding their disobedient child, "that's where you're going back to."

"NO," Wrath wailed in protest until his words finally managed to offer a reason to change her mind, "that woman! That woman who's not my mom - Izumi! She told me to come. She made me come. She said you'd give me Red Stones if I gave you a message."

Pausing to consider Wrath's message, a bitter glee leached into Dante's tone and her tiny hands found her straight hips, "Oh, really? Is that what we're doing now? What was the message?"

Wrath was hesitant, rustling around in his chains while he got his thoughts in order, "She wanted me to tell you she wants to see you in the underground city."

Dante's tone was miserably whimsical as her expression widened, "She sent you all the way out here with an invite? I see the favour is being returned to me. I assume she told you why?"

"She, um, wanted to trade 'Brigitte' for alchemy from beyond the… G…" Wrath's voice audibly shook, "G-gate."

The soles of Dante's shoes scuffed the dirt and she slowly strolled through the glowing strips of moonlight falling through the seams of the wooden canopy, "Ed's already divulging his knowledge… and they're going to graciously give me some if I give them Brigitte?" she offered a haughty little scoff to the plan. Pivoting abruptly, Dante's tiny toes carved into the dirt floor of the stables, "There's no reason for them to even consider I'd bring Brigitte. Izumi knows me better than that. I won't even humour them with it… so," Dante tossed her last syllable around playfully, "Is this an ambush? A brazen ambush in my own home? Hardly. Izumi isn't foolish enough to try," she squeaked before trying to force away the childish sound of her voice, "but, if Ed has already begun educating everyone with alchemy from beyond the Gate…"

Rattling through the chains around his ankles, Wrath cringed and he curled into himself uncomfortably at the mention of it.

"What is your problem, Wrath?" Dante snapped at the unbecoming behaviour of what should have been a feral homunculus

"The Gate was so loud!" Wrath's voice scratched around in the midnight.

Dropping her shoulders, Dante's tiny hands snapped out to her sides in exasperation, "Yes, you've told me time and again that you cannot stand how noisy the Gate is."

"No, Dante!" Wrath desperately pleaded with her, "it was different this time!"

With the breath used to utter a few short words, Wrath unexpectedly flushed away Dante's annoyance. Tipping her head, she carefully examined the curious wording of the homunculus before taking an intrigued step towards him, "This time?"

The panic in Wrath's tone calmed, "Yeah."

Dante's arms swept up and folded across her chest. Through the thin rays of dusty moonlight, Dante slowly dug her toes into the dirt at her feet and approached Wrath, "How were you able to see the Gate 'this time'?"

"It came from my arm and leg," was the best way Wrath could explain.

"You don't…" the frustration boiled up in Dante's voice and her arms tightened as she continued her approach, sending her shoulders to her ears, "you don't have an arm."

Wrath threw out his good arm in protest, his voice so loud it unsettled every creature in earshot, "THE OTHER ONE!"

Pausing in mid-stride, Dante stared with wondrous wide eyes at the partially re-constructed homunculus. The foul frustration that Dante had sewn into her childish face began to come undone and the stitches of a tiny smile began to show. In the dark, silent overnight, her tight arms loosened, her tense posture eased, and Dante's voice softened as her young, eager eyes dug into Wrath.

"You mean the flesh ones?"

Bowing his head, Wrath nodded.

"Ed got his arm and leg back…" spoken with the childish wonder of Nina's guise, Dante's smile tore through her as she marvelled at the prospect.

Was it something Al had done? Or had it happened on the other side? How Dante wished she could have been there when he'd extracted Edward - to have felt that power, to have seen that world, to have had everything in her grasp, and enjoyed it all with him. Al had the kind of experience Dante had longed for: to reach into the heart of the Gate and take something . How much easier everything would be if she hadn't been sent away and given this wretched body rot. Dante looked down at the last homunculus she had left - a young, defective creature that sat frightened by an entity that made her heart race with excitement, set her imagination free, and offered her an escape of the boundaries of her world if only she could conquer it. Washing away the frustration and anger that remained on her face, Dante kicked aside the chains Wrath hadn't quite escaped. Orchestrating the soft moment she'd offer him, Dante eased her tone, sweetened her inflections, and she knelt down with her dishevelled homunculus and wrapped him up in false securities.

"Don't worry, Wrath. I promise I will not allow anyone to send you to the Gate," Dante slowed her words and made her speech precise as she sought clarification of the riddle Wrath gave her, "If Ed has his arm and leg back, I need to know how they managed to frighten you with the Gate this time?"

Puzzled how a detail so trivial he loathed seemed so important to her, Wrath simply stated, "He let me see it."

Falling deaf to the world around her, Dante's pounding heart filled her ears with excitement.

"Ed did that? Really?"

The woman who terrorized a nation's people to gain some resemblance of even footing with the Gate scrambled to concoct a scenario for how this could even be possible. She wasn't sure she could. Dante could count on a single hand how many times she'd felt this kind of enigmatic energy flow through her veins. The kind of energy that made her knees weak and her breaths harder to come by: sheer excitement.

"Ed showed you the Gate?"

Wrath nodded cautiously, uncertain how to interpret Dante's reaction.

Slipping a tiny hand over her mouth, the corners of her incredulous smile leaked out. Edward Elric had access to the Gate. What could he have possibly learnt in the world beyond to give him such power? Sweeping to her feet, Dante drifted away from Wrath, her toes barely touching the ground as she wandered through the seams of moonlight decorating the air in the dark midnight stables.

If Ed had access to the Gate, then Dante didn't need a tool like a Diana any more. She didn't need any ill conceived infant. She didn't need any of that bothersome, cumbersome trouble to make that structure show itself to her, all she needed was him .

"Well," pursing her lips, Dante's cheeks dimpled as she fought against the smile that sought to foolishly overwhelm her, "I want him to show me too."

"NO DANTE," Wrath shrieked and lunged towards her, scattering the chains that had trapped him and he hastily crawled free. Grabbing her arm, Wrath was shoved back down into the dirt as Dante tossed him away. From his hand and knees, Wrath looked up pleadingly into the intense, compassionless gaze she put him beneath, "Dante, you don't want him to!"

"Oh yes, I very much do," Dante wrung her index fingers through her long braids as she walked away from Wrath, stringing them out until they fell neatly over her shoulders. Her hands swept up in front of her, like a conductor drawing her musicians to the ready, and the tips of her fingers landed together lightly on her lips, "And when Aisa finds him and gets here with him, I'll have Ed show me the Gate too."

"DANTE!"

"You wanted Red Stones? Let's go, Wrath."

Dante sauntered away from the stable where Wrath remained on his hand and knees desperately pleading with her. Soaked in moonlight as she stepped out from beneath the wooden canopy, the sound of Nina's giggles rang out like church bells in the starry night.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note:

My 2000's brain had me labelling the chapters as episode numbers based FMA03's 51 episode count, so this is 'episode 100' it seems :')