Ed woke slowly. His head throbbed dully in time with his heart.

He blinked and squinted against the harsh light. Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was climbing the tower. He'd reached the top, and then…

He hadn't fallen, had he?

A quick survey of his body, his various aches and pains, ascertained that he was still, in fact, alive. The afterlife wouldn't leave him with metal limbs, would it?

Knowing what was out there, it'd probably take his automail and leave him with nothing.

But he still had four limbs—so alive, then. Alive and…tied up?

His wrists and ankles were bound to a stiff-backed wooden chair. His coat had been removed, leaving his bare arm chilled. He strained against the bonds frantically, head darting back and forth.

He was indoors; he could tell that much. Bright light washed over him from above in a circle, and the rest of the space was shrouded in darkness.

Of course the tower was inhabited. Of course whoever was there had tied him up.

His hands were separated, so there was no chance for his signature alchemy move.

How was he going to get out of this?

The back of his neck prickled as if he were being watched.

Well, his mouth wasn't covered. "Hello?"

Something clicked in the darkness, but no one appeared. No one answered.

"Hey, whoever did this! Let me out. Face me head on instead of tying me up."

And finally, a voice answered back. "No."

Ed jumped at the sound. The voice rang out clear and high, even higher than his own voice. Like it belonged to a woman. Or a young boy. There was a strange ring to it too, like the person was wearing a metal helmet.

Like the military flunkies in full armor.

Ed's heart sank. It would be just his luck to escape one group of soldiers and run straight into another.

"Did Mustang send you? That doesn't seem like him. He's always wanted to capture me himself." He searched blindly as he shouted into the dark, turning his head as much as his bonds would allow.

"Uh…" the speaker seemed to hesitate. "I—I'm not afraid of you. If you think you can take me away, you're dead wrong."

"Take you away…" Ed echoed. "What—I—is this a trick?"

"It's not a trick. You're in serious trouble."

Ed laughed in amazement. Was this really how he'd be caught?

The least he could do was see who had bested him. "Quit hiding in the shadows. Don't be a coward! Get out here where I can see you!"

There was silence for a moment, then a clanking noise echoed through the tower. And another. Another. Clank. Clank. Clank. Like footsteps.

A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and imposing. The person wore a hulking suit of armor.

Instead of a sword though, they carried a round black pan.

Ed blinked. He had not expected a frying pan.

"I'm not afraid of you." The voice wavered, as if its owner were trying to persuade themselves.

"Then untie me," growled Ed.

"No. I can't let you go."

"Why not?"

"You came here for me. You think I'm going to let you run off and bring more people here?"

"I didn't—" Ed spluttered. "I didn't come here for you. I don't know who you are." Quite an ego his captor had.

"You…you're not here for me?"

"I just wanted someplace quiet to hide. I was being chased."

"I don't believe you. You're lying. People are liars. That's what Father always says."

"Father?" Ed's mind raced. Was this…a kid? "How old are you?"

"None of your business."

Young, then. Young and trying to seem older.

"Look, kid. You obviously have your own little thing here. I only wanted a place to crash. If I can't have it here, then let me go and I'll be on my way."

"You…" The armor hesitated. "You don't want…me?"

Ed almost laughed. "Why on earth would I want you? No offense, but that armor doesn't look very valuable."

Silence. Digesting. "You're telling the truth?"

"Yes!"

The helmet swung back and forth, hovering indecisively. "I…" Then it turned away from Ed, facing the darkness. "Go see."

He wasn't alone, then. Who was he talking to?

A dark shape rushed toward Ed. Formless, it twisted in and around itself on the stone floor. Like a shadow, but with nothing to cast it.

And it was coming for him.

Ed let out a very undignified shriek of fear. "What is that?!"

The shadowy tendrils swirled up his leg. Ed writhed in panic, but there was nowhere for him to go.

The voice in the armor now sounded a little pleased. Proud that he's been able to rattle his prisoner. "That's Selim. And you'd better behave, or he'll turn very nasty."

The dark mass formed the shape of a small creature with piercing red eyes that rested on his knee. It began to move, running shadows up and down his body, inspecting Ed from every angle.

Ed twitched from the tickling sensation. He felt violated. And terrified. Terrifyingly violated.

Finally, the demon-shadow-thing seemed satisfied, and it retreated, shadows racing back out of the circle of light.

The armor leaned close to him, as if scrutinizing his face. "Your eyes."

Immediately Ed's eyes began to water. He screwed them shut, trying to chase away the moisture, but of course that just made it worse. Self-conscious, he leveled a watery glare at his captor. "What about them?"

"They're…" The voice teetered. "Interesting."

"Uh." Ed looked anywhere but at the helmet's eyepieces. "Thanks."

Ed was regretting climbing the tower in the first place. Not only did it look like he wouldn't get to hide here, but he might not even get the chance to destroy the Stone like he'd wanted—

Oh, no.

"Hey." Ed addressed the armored figure, the kid trying to act older. His back was turned to confer with his freaky shadow friend. "Hey! What'd you do with my coat?"

"It's safe."

"I want it back. Give it back."

"Why, was there something valuable in it?" Something in the kid's voice made Ed think he'd already seen the valuable thing inside it.

"Give me back my coat." He glared as best he could at the armored helmet, which despite its spikes and sharp edges didn't look very menacing. But he couldn't simply clap his hands and get out of this. He had to be cleverer this time.

"Oh, I will." The answer was coy. Almost smug. "But if you want that little red rock back too, you're going to do something for me."

"No, I won't." Like hell he was going to make a deal with this kid. This wasn't how Ed conducted business.

He shifted in his seat, twisting his metal wrist as far as it would turn. His fingers brushed the back of the chair.

"Every year, there are floating lights in the sky. They're set to appear tomorrow."

Ed's fingers froze. "The lantern thing?"

This was the furthest thing from his train of thought. This was what this kid wanted? To go to some festival?

"They're…lanterns?"

"Yeah. For the queen and the princes. Stupid rich people."

He breathed a quiet oh. Wondrous. Childlike.

Ed almost envied his innocence.

Then the kid squared his shoulders. "I want to go see them. You're going to take me there and back here. After you do that, I'll give you your stone."

Ed was quiet a moment. It was a fair deal, if he were being honest with himself. Simple. Nonviolent. Fairly quick.

But there were several hang-ups. First of all, he'd already stolen the Stone. Doing extra work to get it back, for someone who'd stolen it from him, after knocking him out and tying him up, wasn't at the top of his list of desirable activities.

Then there was the minor hiccup of him being a known thief, his face plastered on Wanted posters all over the kingdom. Going into the capital city, for something as frivolous as a party? He'd be caught in seconds.

The kid crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.

Ed almost felt bad for the answer he had to give. "Yeah. Sorry, no can do."

He thumbed the transmutation circle he'd clumsily scratched on the chair's wooden arm.

The chair crumbled into pieces beneath him, and he stood, clawing to free himself from the ropes.

The kid in armor froze in shock. Did he not recognize the feared, wanted thief, the Fullmetal Alchemist? Ed had assumed so, given the way his hands had been bound. Perhaps that had been a lucky coincidence on the kid's part.

It didn't matter now. Ed was free, and the kid hunkered down into a weak fighting stance, raising his pan to strike.

Ed clapped his hands and touched the metal plate of his automail arm. It crackled with energy as it elongated into a wicked blade.

This fight wouldn't last very long.

Before he could make a move, the kid froze again, his weapon going slack. "You…you can…"

"Yeah," Ed growled. "Now give me back my coat."

"Without a circle?"

"Yes," he hissed impatiently. What about this wasn't he getting?

"How long have you been able to do that?"

"As long as I can remember."

"And you…you haven't faded?"

Ed's brow wrinkled. Faded? He didn't have a clue what this kid was talking about.

"You've been out there your whole life like that—and you're still…"

"Still what?"

"Here."

"I don't know what the f—" Before he'd finished, the kid swung his makeshift weapon, and the world went dark once more.

.

Even though he hadn't been the one hit with a frying pan, Al's head was spinning.

That boy, whoever he was, could do alchemy like Al.

How?

He's like you, the answer came without effort. He saw the truth.

Al's hands came up to his helmet, as if to knot in his hair.

Father had told him all his life that seeing the truth had made him special. Given him abilities that no one else had. And his abilities needed to be protected—he had to stay in the tower, he had to wear the armor.

And yet.

Here was the Fullmetal Alchemist, apparently a well-known and wanted thief, who could do the same. No armor, no care for who saw him, no protection. He'd lived at least as long as Al, and didn't seem to suffer at all.

Had Father lied?

Of course not. He had no reason to.

He was just…protective. Taking too many precautions, instead of too few—in the name of protecting Al.

It made sense.

But that meant Al could…

He could spend a day outside. One day without his armor. He didn't have to be afraid.

He just had to convince this—frankly terrifying—boy to help him.

.

Ed groaned, slightly more aware this time as he came to. He was going to have a really attractive set of lumps on his head if this kid didn't lay off the frying pan.

He tried to move, but once more found his arms and legs restrained. The bonds felt different this time, though. Sturdier.

When his vision cleared, he registered the difference. The wooden chair he'd been in before—the one he'd broken apart—had re-formed. Instead of ropes holding him to it, the chair itself was twisted bizarrely, the wood forming rather sturdy manacles around his hands and feet.

Oh, shit.

The armored kid stood in front of him, arms crossed in satisfaction.

Ed glowered up at him. "You can do alchemy, too."

"Yep."

Ed glared at him balefully, but he knew the kid had won this round. His hands were angled upward this time, with no chance of his fingers scratching another circle.

There was also no telling how long he'd been out. The kid could've taken the Stone anywhere, any number of miles away, while he slept.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he couldn't problem-solve by cutting and running. "What do you want from me?"

"Same thing as before. It's what you want, too. You take me to see the lanterns, and I give you back your coat."

"And the Stone," Ed growled, dropping all pretense.

"Yeah. You're an alchemist. Equivalent exchange. You do something for me, I do something for you. It's only fair."

What if I don't want to, Ed almost retorted petulantly, but something stopped him. He couldn't help it—he almost respected the kid's tenacity.

"Okay. Fine. I'll take your stupid deal."

The kid staggered back, his armor stuttering loudly on the stone tiles. "Really?"

Edward could almost see the joy on his face, beneath the unyielding metal. Even with his face—his entire body—covered, he couldn't appear stoic and threatening.

Normally he'd roll his eyes at such earnest openness, but again he held back.

"Now get me out of this chair. Where's the damn circle?"

"I'll get it," the kid said quickly. He held up his pan. "If you try anything when I let you up…"

"Yeah, yeah. Got it. My head's sore enough, thanks."

He twitched with impatience as the kid circled around the back of his chair. He heard scratching as the kid fiddled with the wood, probably adjusting the circle, before blue energy surged and the chair retracted its restraints, shifting until it returned to its normal shape.

Ed stood, flexing his feet and rolling his wrists. He must've been sitting there unconscious for a while, judging by the tingling of his butt.

"Here." A cup was shoved in his face, held in the leather glove of the kid's armor. "Drink up."

Ed eyed it suspiciously without touching it. "What is this, poison?"

"No," the kid snapped, sounding frustrated. "It's water. You're thirsty, aren't you? From all that running? Drink."

He'd remembered. Such a small detail Ed had let slip in his rambling, but this kid remembered. And tried to remedy it, clumsy social graces aside.

He took the cup and sipped. "Thanks," he muttered, not wanting to admit how refreshing it was.

The armor hummed its welcome.

"Well, are we going to go? Can I have my coat back, at least?"

"Fine. It's really ugly, though."

Ed rolled his eyes. The kid clanked up a small set of stairs into a curtained room.

In his absence, Ed took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. Now that he was out of the center of it, the circle of light wasn't quite so harsh, and the rest of the tower came into focus.

It was circular, just like the outside. The edges of the tower were lined with things—candles, cloth, books, papers on tables, a chessboard. Ed could've sworn a piano was tucked into one alcove. One area was obviously a kitchen, outfitted with a fireplace stove, oven, and icebox. A wardrobe stood next to the curtains, which Ed was willing to bet hid a bedroom.

Did this kid live here?

Judging by his paranoia, he didn't get out much. Where was the father he'd spoken of earlier? The father who claimed everyone was a liar?

Well, that wasn't an untrue statement, to be fair. Ed lied all the time. He was telling the truth just this once—and it was only because he wanted to get out of this godforsaken kingdom with that Stone, so it couldn't do any more damage. This place was broken enough.

One more trip to the royal city, to that stupid lantern festival (not that he'd ever been, but he just knew it was stupid), and then he could leave for good.

The kid reappeared, tossing Ed's red coat at his face. Ed fumbled with it until he caught it. He scrambled into the pockets, thumbing the lining of each one to ascertain that the Stone truly wasn't there.

"Thanks," he grumbled, pulling it on. "Are you gonna take off that armor? Or are you gonna wear it all the way into the city?"

"I—" He seemed uncertain of his answer. "I'm going to take it off."

"Good. It's really hard to take you seriously like that. I can't even tell what you look like."

"It's to protect me," he retorted as he clanked back into the curtained room.

Ed didn't know what to make of this kid. He was determined and strong-willed. A pretty good alchemist, from what little Ed had seen—the bonds on that chair had been nigh unbreakable. Yet somehow he remained completely…unsure of himself. As if he expected everything he said to be met with criticism, or ridicule.

That, he supposed, would be the result of having a parent. Ed had no such experience.

Soft clatters traveled through the curtain, where the boy was disassembling his armor.

Curiosity got the better of him, overwhelming his courtesy—not that he'd had much of that to begin with. He pushed aside the curtain and entered the room.

.

It was strange, taking the armor off with someone right in the next room. Usually Al didn't remove his armor until he was alone.

Strange—and terrifying.

Each piece he removed seemed to burn in his hands, a condemnation for breaking the most important rule. His exposed skin felt cold.

He could hear the boy—Edward—moving around. Back and forth, pacing, probably impatient. He seemed like the impatient type.

How would he react to seeing Al—the real Al?

Would he react the way Father had always warned him—with hatred, disgust, suspicion?

Even having seen Edward perform alchemy in the same manner, seeing his complete lack of armor, Al was wracked with nerves. What would happen to him once those bright, captivating golden eyes fell on his real body?

Would he fade away after one glance from Edward? Would he disappear, piece by piece, back into the ether of the gate?

This must be what it felt like to stand on the edge of a cliff. He'd read about the feeling in books before, but nothing could compare. The swooping sensation in his stomach, the dizziness, the dread slowly gnawing at his throat—not even his dreams of falling from the tower had come close to this.

Why was he so nervous?

It couldn't just be the armor—he'd itched to be rid of it for years.

It was Edward, he realized with a shock of cold.

Was he afraid to show his new acquaintance—business partner—his real face?

Edward was so confident, so captivating. What if Al simply couldn't compare?

The curtains rustled behind him.

Someone was coming in.

Footsteps. Only one other person was here to make footsteps.

It was now or never. Al couldn't hide anymore.

.

The kid was seated on a spacious four-poster bed, which took up most of the room. Bookshelves lined the walls. The corner desk was littered with papers, and the curtains on the walls barely concealed a multitude of scribbled equations and clumsy transmutation circles.

The kid sat on the bed with his back to Edward, bent in half and fumbling with something close to his feet.

Pieces of armor were scattered across the floor. The helmet sat next to him on the rumpled blankets. Ed could see little more of him than his faded orange shirt, hanging loosely from his slight frame.

The boy started upon hearing Ed's footsteps. He stood and turned, finally freed of the bulky armor. "Hi." His voice was even softer without the metal to amplify it.

Ed froze, taking in the boy he'd been bargaining with. Even with his youthful voice and naivety, Ed was shocked by how young he was. How small he looked.

He was pale, his skin white and almost translucent in places. His limbs were lean and angular, his figure slender.

His hair was long, even longer than Ed's—but nearly the same shade. It surprised Ed; his hair color was something of a rarity. It covered half of his face as he peeked up at Ed with a cautious golden brown eye.

"This is me." He held out his arms resignedly, as if expecting a reprimand. "The real me."

This kid…he looked nice. He had one of those open, kind, pleasant faces—ones Ed was normally immune to.

Not this one.

His brow tilted upward, expression hovering between bashful and curious. His lips twisted soft and pale into an uncertain almost-smile.

Heat pricked in Ed's chest. Where Ed was all sharp lines and edges, this kid was…soft. Fragile. Not a single thorn on him.

Color rose in the boy's cheeks as the moment stretched out, and Ed realized he was making it weird.

He blinked and forced himself to stop staring. "Nice to meet you." He held out his left hand. "Uh…"

The other boy caught on to his unspoken question. "Alphonse," he supplied quietly, shyly. "Al." He took Ed's hand, shaking it lightly as though afraid it would bite.

A thrill of warmth shot through him when their hands touched.

"My name's Edward—Ed." He offered a smile, softer than his usual devilish grin that made mothers clutch their children and put grown men on the defensive.

With this kid, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect—a rarity. For most of his life, he'd viewed other people with varying levels of suspicion. What did they want from him, and what underhanded tricks were they willing to pull to get what they wanted?

Not with this boy. Alphonse. In spite of Ed's natural distrust, of their tentative bargain, those round eyes stirred something in him. Something long buried beneath years of cynicism, from living on the streets.

At the very least, Ed didn't want to fight him.

"You…you look good," he offered awkwardly. "Without the armor."

Alphonse wrapped his arms around himself, looking lost. "Thanks. I guess."

His feet were bare, which couldn't have been comfortable in the metal boots. Did he plan on walking to the festival without shoes?

As Ed stared, the floor around Alphonse darkened. The dark shape from before pooled into his shadow, forming a circle around him.

Ed couldn't stop the unseemly squeak of alarm that fell from his mouth. "What is that thing?"

"I told you, that's Selim. He's coming with us."

Ed spluttered in disbelief, unable to take his eyes off the shadowy void. "Why do you have a…a demon?"

"He's not a demon," Alphonse protested. "He's my friend, and he looks out for me."

Red eyes stared up at Ed. He imagined the scornful, disapproving glare on its nonexistent face. He stuck his tongue out, making a childish face back.

Alphonse laughed. It was a clear, melodic sound that brought a little color to his pale cheeks and lit up his eyes. "You're stupid."

The little insult, thrown out so blithely, sent a shock through Ed. He hadn't expected it from this naive, earnest kid. "Wh-what?"

He smiled, showing a tiny gap between his front teeth. He looked Ed straight in the eye for the first time. "I thought you were scary. Your Wanted poster made you seem scary. But you're not—you're just a kid like me."

Ed mouthed soundlessly. He was used to a degree of respect. He was an unabashed thief who took what he wanted. His alchemy was one in a million. Even the people who pursued him knew his power, and took caution for it.

"Well, you're—an idiot." The comeback was childish, he knew, but it was all he could muster.

Alphonse laughed again, delighting in Ed's confusion. It seemed the kid had a mischievous streak. "C'mon, Selim." He left the bedroom, his creepy shadow slithering snakelike behind him.

Ed grimaced. What had he gotten himself into?

.

Al tied his hair back. Now that the Fullmetal Alchemist—Edward—had agreed to the deal, he was anxious to get going before anything could go wrong. Before Father inexplicably returned. Before Edward called his bluff and found the Stone.

Before Al changed his mind.

So far things had gone well. Edward hadn't flinched at seeing Al without the armor—in fact, he'd been nicer in that moment than ever before.

Now it was time to carry out the bargain.

Al's heart pounded with excitement. Mostly excitement.

There was some fear there, too.

Everything had worked out perfectly—almost too perfectly. He was headed to see the lights—lanterns—with a guide who wouldn't say anything to Father, because he'd be gone before Father returned.

He just had to hope Edward would keep his word.

Al shook his head, dispelling doubts. If he were going to go through with this, he'd have to trust Edward wholeheartedly.

He had to believe him when he claimed he had no idea who Al was, or what he could do. Believe that he only wanted the Stone, and he'd fulfill the deal to get it back.

Edward was there when he turned around, watching him. Not in a way that made Al uncomfortable. Just…looking at him.

There was a softness in his expression Al didn't expect.

The Fullmetal Alchemist seemed full of piss and vinegar. Bitter and contentious and selfish, everything Father had told Al people outside were like.

Perhaps there was more to him.

Of course, he wanted the Philosopher's Stone back. Badly enough that he'd do whatever Al asked. What would a good person want with something like that? Did he know the heinous ingredients used to make it? What was he planning?

Questions for later. Al had felt something when they'd touched, shaken hands. He was almost certain Edward had felt it, too. Something in him had relaxed, as though recognizing the other boy—welcoming him.

He would have to trust that instinct. Without the safety of the tower, his armor, instinct was all he had.

Instinct, Selim, his frying pan—and Edward.

Al took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

Edward smiled. "Great." Once again, his expression was much gentler than the fiendish grin on his Wanted poster. Eager, excited—but almost friendly.

Al wanted to trust him.

Edward strode to the window. He clapped his hands, slamming his palms down. Energy surged through the stone. He hopped over the windowsill and began to climb down, just as he'd come in. Within seconds, he'd disappeared from sight.

"You coming?" His voice was strained from the effort.

Al hesitated. He wasn't sure his body could handle climbing down that way. Sure, he climbed all over the tower, but the dizzying height made him hesitate. Besides, he was carrying a frying pan. His hands were full.

He ducked back into the tower, ensuring he was invisible to Edward. He touched his palms together, envisioning the staircase he always built for Father.

On the wall, Edward shouted in alarm as his footholds gave way to a spiraling set of stairs. Al bit back a giggle. It was hard not to laugh at the Fullmetal Alchemist. He had precious few sources of entertainment, and his own imagination could only get him so far.

"It's easier this way," he called down. "Don't you think?"

"Fast circle," Edward grumbled. He stood with his back braced against the tower wall, hands splayed out as if expecting the stairs to cave in at any moment.

Al ignored the twinge in his pride and climbed onto the windowsill.

He cast a glance at the empty tower behind him. The room seemed darker, sadder, without him in it.

"Bye," he said softly to his home. "I'll be back." I think.

He swung his legs over and, for the first time in living memory, left the safety of the tower.