A/N: Now... I know there are other people reading this. So, why aren't you reviewing? Is it really THAT bad:makes the sad puppy face: I'd even welcome reviews telling me that it sucks. That way I'd know what not do to. Once again, hugs and bishonen to Mint Pizza Queen for beta-ing. And Happy Belated birthday to my loyal reviewer. Scar's in the cake now, and it should be on its way to you.

"Where will she go?" Scar asked, watching Alphonse intently. The Alchemist didn't need to ask who 'she' was.

"Down to the Ishbalan quarter to warn them." He said. "Wagner's going to lower the boom on them until the case breaks." He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't the first time. Last time there was almost a riot. This time…" Alphonse trailed off with a small sigh. "It's gonna be bad." He paced from the front of the couch to the balcony door, back and forth. "Dammit dammit dammit!"

"Wagner's brother…"

Alphonse fell silent for a long time. "He was a nice guy. Got certified a year after Brother." That was, clearly, all he would say on the matter.

"Ah."

Again silence reigned. It was a heavy, guilty kind of silence. Alphonse turned to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a particularly thick leather bound volume. Without a word, he sat down next to Scar and opened it. It was filled with photographs. The Alchemist turned a few pages, then stopped, tapping a picture of a blond girl. "That's my friend Winry. She's an automail mechanic. Her parents were doctors who went to Ishbala. They were executed for helping the Ishbalans. The man who did it was never officially punished." He looked up and caught Scar's eyes. "But he's spent the rest of his life trying to atone for what he did. He put himself in danger over and over again to try and make things right. He's still trying, as a matter of fact." Alphonse closed the photo album. "It's all any of us can do to atone for our sins."

Scar was never sure why he did what he did next. Maybe there was just something about the look on Alphonse's face. Nobody so well intentioned should ever look so guilty over anything.

The Ishbalan put his fingers under Alphonse's chin and brought his head up. Before the younger man could pull away, Scar captured his lips in a kiss. 'His lips are chapped, and he tastes like an ashtray.' the older man thought as he slipped his tongue past Alphonse's teeth. He couldn't decide if this was unpleasant or not.

Alphonse certainly didn't seem to have any objections.

Scar wasn't sure what time it was. It seemed Alphonse didn't believe in having clocks in the bedroom. It was almost late enough now to be considered 'early', he was fairly sure. And something was squeezing itself under the door, like a boneless puddle of furry ooze. Alphonse made a noise in his sleep and rolled over, dragging all the covers with him.

Evil yellow eyes blazed in the darkness as Azazel squeezed under the door, malice aforethought. Scar could almost tell what the beast was thinking. 'You are utterly without protection. I can easily leap the distance between us. You. Shall. Suffer.'

The beast was bunching itself up for the leap when Al sat up, eyes still closed. "Azazel! No!"

The monster froze, then slithered back under the door.

Alphonse flopped back down and opened a single gray eye. "Go back to sleep. It's only two in the morning.

Al got out of bed as quietly as he could in an effort not to wake Scar… and failed miserably by stepping on a cat, which made her displeasure known in the loudest way possible. The Ishbalan was awake in an instant, totally alert. Al picked up the cat (Ysabelle, he realized upon closer inspection) and held her until she calmed down. "Just a cat." He told Scar as he stood up, depositing the offending feline on the bed. With an impish grin, he planted a quick kiss on the Ishbalan, then picked up a pair of pajama bottoms lying on the floor with his toes and headed for the bathroom to begin his morning rituals.

He was back out of the bathroom and heading for the balcony before Scar had finished untangling himself from the sheets. A twinge of worry hit Al then. What if something had happened to Izabel last night? She'd been very upset when she'd taken off, and upset people did very stupid things.

Lighting a cigarette, he pushed open the balcony doors and stepped out into the pre-dawn air. The courtyard was empty, but not for long.

Relief washed through Al as he saw Izabel head for her usual spot, though this morning there was something different.

Grace was with her, heading for the wall opposite Al's flat. She settled against it, arms folded over her massive chest.

"What are you doing?" Scar asked quietly, coming out onto the balcony.

"Morning ritual." Al said. "Care to join me?"

Scar seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded, settling against the rail next to Al.

Izabel began to dance.

"So you watch her pray every morning?"

"Is that what she's doing?"

Scar nodded. "She's not really an Ishbalan," he said. "She belongs to the followers of Imandote. Heretics."

"How so?" Al asked, genuinely curious. Izabel would never discuss religion with him, except to say she was really bad at it.

Scar was quiet as he thought of how to explain it. "Imandote was an Alchemist who lived several hundred years ago, out in the desert. He had a few followers who thought he was Ishbala's chosen Prophet, despite the fact that Ishbala forbids the use of Alchemy. And so they are not Ishbalan, really. They're supposed to be pacifists."

"I see. I think." Al said slowly, taking a long drag off his cigarette. It went a long way towards explaining a few things, that was for sure.

"So you do this… every morning." Scar repeated.

"Mm-hm."

"And she's alright with this."

"She doesn't know."

Scar looked out over the courtyard. "If she doesn't, she will soon."

Grace was looking right at them, a large grin on her face. Al raised a hand and waved.

Al and Scar were eating breakfast when the explosion rocked the building. Glass in the windows cracked, and several cats lost their balance and fell of their perches on the counter. "What the hell was that?" Al demanded of the air as he rushed out the door, still clad only in the pajama bottoms.

He returned only a few moments later, rushing for the bedroom.

"Somebody's blown up the school!"