*speaks in voice from Saw*

dO yOu WaNt To PlAy A gAmE?

In all seriousness, I never expected so many people to make so many educated guesses for the main maladies of Taut and Causatum of Survival, as well as so many interesting questions I received regarding them. I had one person ask me to explain how colostomies work and another who guessed that the disease in Taut was Lou-Gehrig's Disease (the thing Stephen Hawking had). I had a lot of fun reading guesses and answering questions, so I've decided to try out an experiment.

Blame my chosen career as a teacher, but we are going to LEARN here! The bell doesn't dismiss you, I DO! Now you're late for your next class and it's my fault, but I'll just gaslight my way out of any repercussions! Isn't high school great?!

(I promise I am not actually that kind of teacher.)

Honestly, I originally planned to write this for Whumptober 2021 but, surprise surprise, I didn't get it done in time. I've actually been going through a lot of changes recently. I quit a couple of toxic jobs where I was being abused and bullied by my bosses and coworkers. My family actually had to make me quit because I wasn't completely convinced that I wasn't just being a selfish autistic millennial, but after I quit my jobs, I started having a lot of nightmares, flashbacks, and panic attacks. I've been spending the past few months healing, focusing on my classes, and looking for a new job. I will probably write something based on what happened, but I'm not sure I'm quite ready to talk about it here yet.

I'll put the details about the challenge/contest/assignment thing at the end of the chapter so y'all can go ahead and read it.


Edward did not know where it had gone wrong.

He was used to things going wrong – it was simply a symptom of his being alive – but he could usually pinpoint the definitive event that caused the river of fate to turn down a tributary of rapids. Though he would never admit it out loud, these events were typically caused by his own stupidity. It was this ratio that encouraged Ed to retrace his steps to determine what, exactly, he'd done this time, but for the life of him, he couldn't find it.

And it might very well be for the life of him.

The little bit of metal, no longer than the first two knuckles of his pinky finger and no wider than a break from a chocolate bar, was warm from being held in his fisted hand. His lungs were in his throat, too eager for air to care about the smell of the damp, filthy alley he'd turned into. He could hear the men coming, could here them searching for him, and knew that if he stayed put, he'd eventually be found. He thought about just tossing the domino of metal. They probably wouldn't be able to find it if he threw it to only God knew where – but if Ed didn't know where it was, he would be less than useful to them.

They would kill him when they caught him.

And if the shrieking of the nerves in his ruined leg port were to be believed, they would catch him.

Besides, the colonel would need this. Edward wasn't sure what the man would do with it – investigations were beyond his expertise – but his instinct told him that Mustang would need it to make sense of this whole mess, or at least, to give it to someone else who could.

The voices were getting closer.

Not for the first time, he considered transmuting a hole in a wall of the alley, either in the stone barrier behind him or into the one of the two buildings to his sides, then climbing through and closing it behind him.

Nor for the first time, he reminded himself it would be no use.

The owners of the shops within those walls would be none too pleased for Edward to materialize in their businesses and it would be too easy for the renegade alchemists – well, Edward thought they must be renegade alchemists – to convince the owners that Ed was a thief.

He was, after all. The steel rectangle crushed in his fist was the proof. He could have shown them his silver pocket watch, but they'd probably assume he'd stolen that, too.

Climbing through the end of the alley would slow them down, but it wouldn't stop them. The stone was nothing more than simple concrete. Even if they didn't have their… amplifiers? Talismans? Ed didn't know what to call them. Whatever they were, they cut whatever lead Ed would have over the bastards to a few seconds and Ed needed more than that, with his busted leg.

Edward was a sitting duck, the cause of his danger his only insurance of survival.

Think, you dumbass, think! There has to be a way you can keep them from getting it while also not leaving it behind for them to find!

He couldn't transmute it into the stone, the scumbags knew enough about alchemy to know what transmutation marks looked like. And once they found it, they would have no need for him…

He couldn't just put it in his pocket. They would just reach into his clothes and take it…

A pocket they couldn't reach.

Edward suddenly remembered somethingAlphonse had told him once, just as suddenly as the silhouette of one of the burliest morons slipped into the alley's mouth, something about a book he'd been really getting into while Ed had been sleeping…

Edward had an idea.

It would not be long before he decided it was one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.

XXX

Roy was used to getting calls about Fullmetal.

He was used to those calls being ones of frustration and anger.

He was especially used to them being Fullmetal's fault.

He was not used to the caller being a disgruntled civilian.

"Before you say anything else, tell me how you got this number."

"Your little thief gave it to us. It was the only thing he would give us, despite the fact that what we want is ours."

Roy felt a vein in his forehead pulse outward.

"Let me speak to my subordinate."

"We would, but we don't want to risk him escaping. He's a slippery little rat."

The fact that the man had said the L word twice with no ensuing commotion told Mustang that Fullmetal was not in the room. They were probably keeping him locked up. If what they said was true, and Roy was unfortunately inclined to believe it was, they were arguably in the right.

"So what is it that my subordinate is alleged to have stolen from you and your colleagues?"

"A button."

Roy blinked and nearly took the phone from his ear to stare at it incredulously.

"I… I beg your pardon?"

"A button. A jacket button, to be exact."

It wasn't until Riza gave him a strange look that he realized his mouth was hanging open.

"A… a button, you say?"

"Yes."

"And… and what, exactly is the nature of this… button?"

"It's a decorative button, meant to be sewed onto the cuff of a jacket or coat sleeve."

This was a prank. It had to be.

"I… please, if you don't mind me asking… isn't this a bit rash?"

"Your officer stole from us. We have the right to make a citizen's arrest –"

"How do you know my major didn't confiscate the button as part of an investigation?"

"If he can't prove that, why should we believe him?"

Roy tried to push the unruly vein back into place with his fingers.

"Well, yes, but… over a button, of all things?!"

"It's the principle of the thing. Or are you just as lowly as your thieving major?"

Mustang's jaw clenched.

"I would never authorize Fullmetal to rob the public."

"So you confirm he was acting outside your jurisdiction?"

Roy managed to turn his growl into a sigh before it came out.

"Let me speak to my major."

"And risk him making a break for it? Not a chance."

"What if I sent someone there to sort this out?" Roy met his lieutenant's eyes with his own. She didn't move from her place by the office door, but she lowered her chin in acknowledgement.

There was the sound of the other phone's receiver being moved away from the caller's face, the muffled voices of a discussion Roy was not allowed to hear, then more movement.

"We'll meet you at the gelato stand on the western side of the park."

Roy released a breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding.

"I'll send someone immediately –"

"We'll meet you. No one else."

Roy's jaw clenched against his will.

"You do realize how highly suspicious –"

"The boy said he would answer only to you. We want this over with as much as you do. Just meet us there and we'll take you to him, then you'll order him to give back the button, and everyone goes home."

Roy sighed through his nose.

"All right. Fine. And a word of advice –"

It seemed the man was not particularly interested in the colonel's advice because the call ended with a loud clack.

Mustang returned the receiver to its cradle and stood from his desk, reaching for his coat as he did so.

"If I may ask, sir?" Riza said, opening the door for her commanding officer as he stepped over the threshold with her directly behind him.

"Apparently Fullmetal has come into the possession of something that doesn't belong to him and the rightful owners want it back."

Roy didn't have to see her face to know she was pursing her lips in bemusement.

"That… doesn't sound like Edward… What is it these 'rightful owners' claim he's taken from them?"

"A button."

"A button?"

The consternation in her voice almost made Mustang stop in his tracks and turn around to see if it was reflected in her expression.

"A button. Our concerned citizen says that Fullmetal will 'only answer to me.' So it looks like we'll have to go make him cough it up."

XXX

Roy expected the liaison to be much taller, much broader, altogether much "mucher" than the short-statured man enjoying a paper bowl of gelato while leaning against one of the park's many artificially planted trees. In fact, if he hadn't walked up to them and introduced himself as their chosen guide, Roy would have simply dismissed him as part of the scenery.

The man continued eating his snack as he led the colonel and lieutenant along the edge of the green grass, then down a neighboring street and up the stairs of a shop, letters painted on the windows with darkened rooms behind them. Even if the quant little store hadn't had its purpose labeled with signs, a single look was enough to know that it was an alterations business. Uncut bolts of leather and fabric lay discarded on work tables; scissors, needles, and twine scattered among them. Racks holding completed outfits lined the far wall, the tags pinned to the clothes distinguishing one from another.

The man passed through the workroom without so much as a glance, opening the door at the back of the room and ushering the officers into the living quarters of the building. An older, but still prematurely balding man sat on a sofa, cups of tea sitting on a glass coffee table in front of him. The younger man turned down a hallway and, from the sound, traversed a flight of stairs to another part of the residence. Roy and Riza were left alone with their mysterious host, who gestured to the tea and the other furniture surrounding the table.

Neither solder accepted the invitation.

"Where is my major?"

The man brought his hands to his face and sighed long-sufferingly, as if being in the colonel's presence was the most exhausting experience he'd ever had. Instead of answering, the man nodded his head towards what appeared to be the kitchen. A woman, the first one they'd seen so far, stood up from where she'd been reading a book, a cup of tea of her own beside her. She crossed the room, leaving her book facing down on the page she'd been on.

"This way. Just him," she added when Riza began to follow. "He said he would only answer to Colonel Mustang. Wait here, please, if you would."

Hawkeye deferred to Mustang, her countenance speaking for her, who nodded. It wasn't as if there was anywhere for anyone to go if something went awry. These people were strange, but they were tailors. Clothes-makers were notorious for being bizarre.

Riza stepped away, stalled for a moment, then took the offered cushioned chair and tea. She cast Roy a final, surreptitious glance before turning her attention to her drink, the balding man donning an awkward smile.

The woman led Roy down a set of unfinished wooden stairs, which creaked horrendously, to a door at the bottom. It opened into a cellar, where Roy was surprised to find the Fullmetal Alchemist sitting in a wooden chair in the center of the linoleum floor, looking more sheepish than Roy had ever seen him. Another woman sat in a chair next to him, watching him with the expression of a nanny who was just about fed up with her charge.

Roy knew something was wrong when Edward lifted his downcast gaze and his golden eyes filled with relief.

"Fullmetal."

Edward opened his mouth as if to say something, glanced nervously at his guard, then stared at the colonel beseechingly.

"Mustang –"

"Just give it back and we'll go."

Roy's abrupt order caught Ed off guard and the boy blinked back at him uncomprehendingly. Mustang let his head drop and brought his hand up to pinch his temples.

"Look, just… this is ridiculous, Fullmetal. Just give them the button and let's go."

"Mustang, I –"

Roy's head shot up, his expression beyond annoyed.

"This is completely unbecoming and unprofessional. As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to return what you stole."

"I… I can't." Edward looked away, the genuine picture of chastised.

Roy's eyebrows came together on his forehead.

"What do you mean, you can't? Just give it back and don't you dare think for a second that you won't have to write a report on this –"

"Mustang, it's not what it looks like."

Roy couldn't stop his hands from going to his hips.

"It looks like I have to expand on the disciplinary regimen I've scheduled for you. Would you like to spend an additional two weeks working reconnaissance on the northern border along with the two I've already conscripted you to?"

"The button – the thing, Mustang, it's not a button!"

The woman's eyes widened and she stiffened as if her spine had transformed into a rod. Roy didn't bother looking at her. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Explain."

The word sent panic flashing through the woman's eyes. Roy guessed she hadn't expected him to listen to Fullmetal's explanation.

Edward cast a second furtive glance at her, biting his lip in an uncharacteristic act of nervousness.

"It's… They're… they're like portable transmutation circles. Each button is a rune. All they have to do is –"

Then the woman moved and Fullmetal squealed.

Roy had never thought Fullmetal could squeal, nor did he ever imagine that he would hear it. He most certainly never imagined that it would sound so utterly frightened.

Roy raised his arm, poised to snap, as Edward's head flew back and his back slammed into his chair. The chair catapulted him backwards and he landed sprawled on the floor.

"What the hell did you do to him?"

The woman had stood in the second Ed had fallen and she stared in horror, first at Roy and then at Ed.

Then she stomped her right foot three times against the linoleum.

That was the last thing Roy remembered before the floor vanished.

XXX

Mustang caught himself by reflex, his knees bending and his hands coming up to break his fall. He still ended up flat on his face. Ignoring the stinging scrapes on his cheek and his palms, he scrambled upright, his major the only thing on his mind.

Edward was held beneath the arms by the man Roy had expected to meet at the gelato stand. The man's face was set in an unreadable glare. Ed's disheveled state told Roy that the man had saved him from cracking his skull on the floor.

Roy watched as the ox of a man placed Edward on his feet with surprising gentleness, then raised his hand in the air like a schoolboy with a question. It wasn't until then that Roy noticed the perfectly circular hole in the ceiling. A steel ladder appeared, slowly and sporadically, until the bottom rung touched the man's open hand, which gripped the rung. The man gripped the rung with his other hand and hauled himself up, snapping one of his hands to the next rung and pulling himself along the ladder until he disappeared to the upper floor. The ladder followed him quickly and, with a crackle of alchemy, the hole vanished.

Mustang had watched Fullmetal, waiting for him to jump after the man, to reach for the ladder, to transmute the floor to elevate himself.

Edward simply watched, his eyes clouded with despair.

Roy did not dare to do what Fullmetal did not dare to do. If Edward didn't dare, the colonel knew there was a reason.

"Fullmetal."

Edward turned his head, the new emotion in his gaze one that Mustang couldn't identify.

"Explain."

XXX

Edward had heard that the tailor's shop on 6th street had been looking for an alchemist.

Alphonse had been interested in going, but he had been worried that the proprietors would have been frightened by his… well, everything. The last time Al had accompanied his brother to a clothing store, the pair had been accused of attempting some elaborate prank on the owners. Edward had offered to go with him, but Alphonse had pointed out that if both of them went, Edward would do all the helping and Al would be left to do nothing but watch, which was completely true since it was what always happened.

So Edward went alone, taking the chance to have some rare solitude, enjoying the morning air and munching on some roasted nuts from a street stall. He found the shop easily enough and the tailors were more than welcoming, even offering him a cup of tea to go with his roasted nuts, which he accepted with cream and sugar.

The conundrum had been simple enough.

The tailors had been experimenting with what appeared to be an alchemy themed line of clothing. They had all studied alchemy on a basic level, so they knew the runes and what they meant, but seemed to have trouble deciding which runes best fit with others.

"Aesthetics or practicality?" Edward had asked, studying the metal and cloth transmutation marks.

"We were hoping both. Something to attract both customers who do and don't know what the symbols mean," the head tailor, an older, balding man had said.

Edward decided that aesthetics would follow practicality and sorted the runes based on specific transmutation circles – water, steel, and other common transmutations. The tailors were fast learners and it wasn't long before they were able to form their own patterns, with the help of diagrams from alchemy texts of various difficulties.

"You know," Edward had said, watching the tailors work, "this fashion statement could have some real potential for actual alchemists."

The tailors had frozen in place, the balding man slowly raising his head in what Ed would later recognize as a forced smile.

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, sure! I mean, imagine the convenience! Runes stitched into your clothes! You'd be a walking transmutation circle! Here, look," Edward had grabbed a handful of buttons, using his other hand to arrange them in his palm and then curling his hand into a fist, pressing the pads of his fingers against the buttons as he did so. He stuffed his fist into a box of steel thimbles and they morphed with fizz and a flash into a small gargoyle statuette, its bottom fangs protruding from its lower lip and surpassing its ugly nose.

Edward had looked back at the tailors, his face aglow with excitement, to see that the tailors' faces had drained of color. The balding man had still been smiling, his clenched hands resting on his work table.

"Very perceptive," the man had said, nodding approvingly. "It was meant to be a surprise for the market, but I should have guessed you'd figure it out sooner or later."

"The market's be surprised, all right," Ed had said, admiring his gargoyle once more. "Just wait until the State Alchemist program finds out. They'll pay you enough fortunes for you to buy out the emperor of Xing!"

Edward had laughed at his own joke. When his laughter was the only one he heard, he checked on his audience.

The balding man was not smiling anymore.

"The military, hmm?" He had stood straight, taking his hands off the table. "What makes you say that?"

"Well…they're gonna find out eventually, aren't they? Even if I don't tell them."

The other tailors had slunk away, their eyes wide and scared as they watched their employer as if he was a wild animal poised to pounce.

"And why would you do that?"

Edward had felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. He had wished he'd known why. Later, he'd wish that he'd heeded his instincts.

"I… I have to. I'm a state alchemist, after all."

The man's eyebrows shot up towards his hairless head.

"You…"

Edward grinned, trying to chase the ice away with the warmth of arrogance.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist, youngest state alchemist in history, at your service."

And then the woman who'd been sneaking up behind him dumped a pail of water over his head, Ed reflexively kicked at her with his automail leg, and the world splintered into pain.


Rules For The Not-Whumptober 2021 Challenge/Contest/Assignment Thing Whatever It Is

1. The first person to both correctly diagnose the featured malady AND prescribe appropriate treatment method(s) wins.

2. The prize is pretty unoriginal since I ain't good for much - the winner gets to decide what I write about next! Hurray!

3. The winner can ask me to a) prioritize either Taut or Causatum for either the next 3 chapters or until the story is finished, whichever comes first, b) suggest a malady for me to write about, or c) write a sequel to something I've already written, like Altruism or Febrile… though I have no idea why you'd want to.

4. If the prompt is a malady, it has to be either treatable or livable. I'm pretty on the fence about writing canon divergence.

5. The fandom does not have to be Fullmetal Alchemist, but true to the nature of hyperfixations, I only write in specific fandoms. Feel free to ask me which fandoms I'm comfortable with.

6. You can either PM me your answers or leave them in a review. I will let you know if you win. You give me your prompt/suggestion/prize/thingamabob in either a PM or a review.

7. If too many people correctly diagnose the malady/prescribe treatment too quickly, I will come up with another research question for y'all to tackle instead. Knowing me, this will probably be what happens because I left such an obvious clue. I won't tell you what or where it is, though.

I wouldn't be surprised if nothing came of this, but that's why it's an experiment. I'm probably not big enough of a fanfiction writer to have that kind of following, but ya never know.

Happy reading and/or researching!