Run.

Ed swore and dove for the floor, taking Alphonse with him. The kid squeaked in surprise, grunting when he hit the wooden floorboards hard. His frying pan clunked beside them.

Ed winced at the bruises their fall would leave, but there was no time to pause and take stock. He scrambled for cover, scooting along the floor toward the far end of the bar.

Al followed behind him, weaving in between bar stools like a snake. His little shadow pet darkened the space between them. Four or five red eyes popped out of the blackness, darting this way and that.

Only seconds had passed since the tavern door had opened. Ed pulled Alphonse into the dark corner behind the bar just before the first soldiers entered.

Ed could barely pay attention to the pounding of boots, the voices echoing overhead. His knees were drawn up to his chest, which folded him into a small ball. He'd squeezed Alphonse close to him, to keep him out of sight. His head rested on Ed's knee, his neck and chest pressed along Ed's thigh.

Stay. Keep him close.

In any other situation, Ed would have reveled in the warmth blooming on his face, his stomach, everywhere Al was touching him. (Under his arms, too, but he supposed that was for a different reason entirely.)

Rarely was he ever so close to someone, and never did it feel so…nice.

Soldiers were flooding the tavern in search of Ed, but all he seemed to be able to think about was the boy clinging to him.

He was hyperaware of their closeness. Of his pulse pounding in tandem with Alphonse's—which he could feel. Of Al's fist clenched around a handful of his coat, of stray strands of Al's hair tickling his neck. Of Al's too-loud breath going in, out, in, out, puffing warm on his wrist.

Fast. So fast. He was practically hyperventilating.

Ed leaned down, cupping his hands to whisper without being heard. "Hey, you okay?"

His lips were so close they grazed the other boy's ear.

"Alphonse. Talk to me."

Still no response. Al was rigid, his body locked up tight. Clinging to Ed.

Was he that frightened of the soldiers?

Ed would have pushed further, trying to break through to Alphonse, but a crushingly familiar voice rang out in the tavern and froze his heart.

"I was told the Fullmetal thief was frequenting this establishment."

Ed gritted his teeth. Would it kill Mustang to leave him alone for one damn day?

He waited, alchemy at the ready, for one of the patrons to rat him out. Point to their hiding place and demand the reward money.

After all, hadn't they just told him exactly why they needed it?

When someone spoke up, it wasn't at all what he'd expected.

"I was under the impression that Fullmetal was just a kid. Maybe you haven't noticed, but this place doesn't serve children."

It was the woman from before, the one with a tattoo on her arm and shoulder. Martel, he'd heard someone call her—or Marta. He wasn't sure.

She was defending him?

Mustang laughed derisively. "Oh, yes, I'm sure this is a law-abiding establishment. What with all these deserters here."

Deserters. Military runaways. Ed filed that factoid away.

"If there's a thief here, it's news to all of us," rumbled an even deeper voice. Ed guessed it was the huge, bull-like man who'd tried to grab him before. "So unless you want to arrest us all, we'd like to get back to our drinks."

"We know the Fullmetal Alchemist was in this area," another woman spoke up. Sharp, no nonsense. It had to be Mustang's lieutenant. "He stole from a church in a nearby town and fled in this direction. As you can see, we've already arrested his two accomplices."

What?

Ed felt as though someone had dropped a shard of ice down his shirt.

He edged one eye around the corner, taking in the scene in an instant before pulling back.

The tavern door overflowed with blue-coated soldiers. Mustang stood in the center of them, dark eyes cold and intent. His lieutenant, deceptively soft-faced, stood at attention just behind him.

Ling and Envy were in the doorway surrounded by guards, their hands secured behind their backs.

Shit.

If there were people Ed wanted to see less than Mustang, it was those two. He'd double-crossed them just hours ago, clearly leading to their capture. They would show none of Mustang's professional restraint if they encountered him.

His left hand wrapped around Alphonse's shoulder and squeezed.

Maybe he was imagining it, but the kid's desperate touch felt like the only thing keeping him sane.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, lead a search of the premises. Identify everyone."

"Sir."

"I'd like to speak with the owner. Where is he?"

Ed wondered fleetingly where Greed had gone. If only the lazy bartender could be as rude to the military as he had been to them. How he would infuriate Mustang…

"He's stepped out for a bit," chimed in the high, reedy voice of the squat, bald man. "We can take care of ourselves."

Wait. Then where was Greed?

Something nudged Ed from behind. He jumped, nearly shattering Alphonse into pieces.

Greed was crouched behind the bar, out of sight of the invading soldiers. Gesturing with his head. This way.

Ed made a move to get up, but Al didn't budge.

"Hey." Once again, Ed leaned down so close his lips brushed the other boy's ear, voice so quiet it was little more than a breath. "We gotta go. C'mon."

Al didn't respond.

"You. Stand up. Take that hood off." The soldiers were moving through the patrons one by one, checking for Mustang's prey. Soon they'd begin poking the dark corners of the tavern, if some weren't doing so already.

"Alphonse." Ed patted his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

His breaths were so light and quick and panicked Ed wasn't sure he could hear.

He took the kid's face in his hands, cupping his pale cheeks in his palms. Forcing him to look up, to meet Ed's eyes. "Look at me."

His golden brown eyes were huge, pupils dilated to pinpoints. His gaze anchored on Edward, staring at him as if he were the only thing in the world.

Ed had the very untimely realization that there were flecks of green in Al's eyes.

Not now. Run. Get away!

He could have cried at the vulnerability in that gaze, at the way his touch slowed Al's racing pulse.

He could have stared into those eyes forever, if not for the ominous footfalls that seemed to get louder and closer with every step.

Ed jostled his companion's cheek, unwilling to slap him. His sheet-white skin burned hot against Ed's left hand. "Al, please. Don't crap out on me now."

A small whimper escaped his lips. Ed buried the urge to tuck his long bangs behind his ear.

"Hey, Al. You're okay. We're okay. We're fine. But we won't be for long, not if they catch us. So we need to go now, okay?"

"Make sure he isn't hiding under the tables. Where's the owner?"

Adrenaline surged through Ed, filling his veins with cold panic. He patted Al's cheek again, none too gently this time. It was a few degrees shy of a slap. "Al?"

Alphonse's lips parted, and he gasped, louder than Ed would have liked. But he blinked, eyes falling forward onto Ed's collar. "Yeah."

"Let's go." Ed pulled him behind the bar where Greed waited.

Al did not let go of his coat.

Greed led them behind the bar, where miraculously no soldiers had ventured yet, into a dark crevice Ed hadn't noticed before.

A trapdoor was built into the floor, leading down below the building, below the ground. A single, sputtering, dying lantern lay on the ground, as if it had been hastily tossed inside.

"What is this?" Ed hissed.

"What does it look like? It's a passage. Get out of here."

Ed looked Greed up and down, sizing him up. He wouldn't have taken this seedy bartender for the type to smuggle people away from the authorities. Not if there was reward money on the line.

"Be careful. It's not completely finished. Some of the branches are dead ends. When you get to the quarry, you're at the right place."

Ed wanted to roll his eyes, but Al spoke first. "Thank you." His voice was a strained, shaky whisper, but there was no mistaking the sincerity of his words.

"Go," Greed said again, not acknowledging the thanks. "Hope your dream comes true."

Ed scoffed. "As if."

"I didn't mean you, idiot." Greed grinned at Al. "Go see those lanterns, kid."

Al, still clinging to Ed's coat, nodded once with a thin smile.

"Have fun ruling the world," Ed whispered scathingly. He started down the passage with Al in tow, not waiting for Greed's retort.

He had barely picked up the dying lantern on the floor before the trapdoor closed quietly behind them, shrouding them in nearly complete darkness.

Instinctively Ed drew closer to Al. The other boy was pressed against his side once more, face half buried in Ed's shoulder.

"Al," Ed said gently, ignoring the stab of heat that shot through his belly at their closeness. "You okay? Calm down. You can let go. We're safe in here."

"Mm." Al's reply was muffled. "Can't. This is how I'm staying calm."

By holding onto Edward. "Oh."

Ed wondered how long it had been since he'd been allowed this close to someone else. That armor he'd worn didn't allow for closeness.

It felt so nice.

Ed cleared his throat. "Well. Then. Come on then."

He put a hand briefly on Al's hair, just to reassure him he didn't mind, as he lifted the din lantern and surveyed the tunnel Greed had shoved them into.

The passage was low and earthy, the ground studded with large rocks. A few wooden boards lined the walls and ceiling, a rudimentary measure to prevent collapse.

Ed surveyed the homemade passage. It wasn't brilliant, certainly not an architectural feat, but it would do.

The sputtering lantern in his hand wouldn't, though. He needed more light than that.

He picked two small stones from the floor and transmuted them into dull points. When he struck them together, sparks flew.

Ed picked the longest wooden stick he could find and used the stones to light it on fire. Now with his makeshift torch, he and Al started down the passageway.

The tunnels were twisty. If Ed didn't know better, he would think that Greed was trying to get them lost.

He didn't completely rule the idea out.

As they walked, Ed noticed Al's grip loosening. He slowly came unglued, and before long was walking beside Ed instead of on top of him.

He stayed close, though, and their shoulders brushed more than once as the passage twisted, turned, and branched.

Ed had no idea if the offshoots were dead ends, detours, or if one of them was the way out.

If they spent long enough down here, he supposed they could try them all.

Ed cleared his throat. He needed to say this, to get it out properly.

"Listen, back there—not that I mind a fight, but what you did was…pretty sweet."

Al looked away. "Thanks."

Ed caught a glimpse of pink in his cheeks. Had he never been complimented in his life?

"You're a people person. I'm…not."

Al laughed dryly, a lovely melodic sound. "I can see that."

No need to rub it in.

"You think I'm a people person?" His voice upturned, curious and shy and painfully vulnerable.

Couldn't he tell? "You…you're nice. People like you."

"And nobody likes you."

Ouch. He didn't pull punches.

"So," Edward said, lightening to a let's-change-the-subject tone. "Why doesn't your father want you to go see these lanterns? He an enemy of the state or something?"

"I…" Al looked at his feet. "I don't think so."

Damn. How uninformed was this kid? "Then…what?"

"Just…protective."

"Why? What's so special about you?" Ed cringed as soon as the words were out. He hadn't meant to sound so dismissive. There was plenty special about Al—

"I—I mean." Now his cheeks were warm. "Alchemy's not uncommon. They've got a whole branch of the military dedicated to—oh." He looked at Al—slim, delicate Al. "Does he think you'll get recruited?"

It hadn't occurred to him, although the bastard Colonel had mentioned several times that if you weren't a wanted criminal, Fullmetal, you would make an excellent soldier.

Piss off, Ed grumbled at the smug little Mustang in his head.

"Not—not really," Al stammered. He had fully detached from Ed's coat, and was straying further and further from him. "He doesn't…want people to see. See me for who I really am."

"What does that mean?"

"I—I'm a…"

"What?"

By now Al had put the full width of the tunnel between them. "I'm not…good."

Ed nearly stumbled over nothing. He hadn't expected a response like that.

He took in Al's oval face, his prominent cheekbones. Long bangs hanging in his eyes, but unable to hide his undeniably sweet expression. (He never used the word sweet to describe someone.) His pale lips, disappearing into his mouth uncertain, then coming to rest slightly parted.

I'm not good.

Why would he think that about himself?

Was it his father? Had the man who'd raised Al in a secluded tower, made him wear a suit of armor, also told him he wasn't good?

"What do you mean?"

Al's brow furrowed. "Isn't it the same for you? You—you clap, and…"

Upon seeing Ed's confusion, he flushed and looked away. "I…I just mean…you're a thief. And people look at you differently when they know that."

It wasn't what he'd meant to say, clearly. He'd changed his approach midstream.

What had he meant to say, about Ed's alchemy? You clap, and…

Another time, Ed's inner voice urged. He could figure out what had flattened Al's self-esteem in a better place than this tunnel.

He gave Al a wide, devilish grin. "Nah, that's just my natural charm."

Al offered a thin smile back. "Maybe you need me, so you don't get in so many fights."

"Hey, I like the fights. I never had a father to protect me from 'em. I had to learn fast."

The tunnel branched in two. Ed took the left path, glancing at Al with raised eyebrows. Was this the right way? He had no clue.

Al drifted back to Ed's side, shuffling his feet. "Your life sounds fascinating."

"Not as fascinating as yours. I have so many questions. About your father, the tower, the alchemy…"

Al blanched at the last word.

Don't push him.

He changed tactics. "Frankly, I'm too scared to ask about the demon-thing."

Al went indignant. "He's not a demon! He's a shadow creature."

Ed wasn't sure when his focus had shifted. He had begun this journey with the intention of getting the Stone back—and a detached, scientific curiosity about his new acquaintance's sheltered existence.

Now he was changing the subject when Al balked, making jokes to help him feel more comfortable. Giving up his curiosities for Al's peace of mind.

He'd never cared about making anyone uncomfortable a day in his life.

"Yeah? Where is that thing on the tree of life, huh? What's its taxonomy? Genus and species—Shadowus Demonus?"

A dark shadow slithered up the tunnel wall next to Ed. He yelped as a large red eye blinked out of nowhere, squinting at him suspiciously.

Al stifled a giggle behind his hand.

Ed felt a flash of pride for bringing on that laugh.

"He's my friend." Al looked pointedly at him. "Ever had one of those before?"

Maybe. Maybe not.

He'd certainly never had a friend like Al before.

He was opening his mouth to reply when a rustling behind them cut him off.

"What…" He turned, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

In the distance, in the twisted tunnels behind them, a pinprick of light was growing.

.

The tower was empty.

The boy's armor was scattered across the bedroom in pieces.

The boy was not there.

No. No.

What had that foolish child done—

Panic was for lesser beings. There would be no panic.

There would be punishment.

Finding Alphonse would be easy. More difficult would be to convince him to return without force.

Without direct force. The absence of the armor would make him difficult to handle. This would be a delicate operation.

But before that…

A large, shining concentration of power radiated from under one of the floorboards.

It hadn't been there before.

A Philosopher's Stone. A physical one. Small, round. Red. Screaming.

Alphonse did not have such a thing.

Someone had been here. Left a Philosopher's Stone. Taken Alphonse?

Concentrate. Listen.

Where was Alphonse?

Darkness. Flickers of light. Unsteady. Firelight?

Damp earth. Underground.

A flash of memory. A tavern. A name. A face.

Alphonse must be found. Brought back. Of his own free will.

Let him be, argued a voice from inside. Let him go.

It was ignored.