He isn't safe.

But he's good.

– C.S. Lewis

One-man Show

Roy Mustang scowled, elbows planted on his desk, thumbing through reports. Not that he didn't have time to read them before calling the team here; he'd gone through the interviews so many times he knew each by heart. Still, he'd hoped something would leap out after being forced to rest but no such luck. The statements didn't make sense.

Nothing about this made any sense.

The Lieutenant stood erect at his back, gaze fixed on the door. Since capturing the suspects, only a direct order could make Hawkeye leave his side and even then she did so begrudgingly. Here in the office, on patrol and while visiting the prisoners, even when he ate and slept, she was there.

He hadn't seen her this afraid since Ishval.

"Do you think he's lying?"

Hawkeye didn't move, roving eyes alone hinting she'd heard him. Molten amber followed the finger tracing a flow of script, skin soft from years of wearing gloves. "There's no discrepancies in the first two: even though they tell it in different ways, both Urameshi and Kuwabara have the same story down to the smallest details, despite not seeing each other since their arrival."

"They had plenty of time to corroborate their story before being captured, sir."

"According to Breda, Kuwabara was heavily medicated during his interview and Havoc said Urameshi gave his in a fit of emotion." His brow furrowed, fist pressing to his mouth. "Both indicate truthful responses."

A hum and she stepped closer, glancing over his shoulder. "But we cannot rule out deceit."

Mustang nodded, returning his attention to Hughes' report. Aside from a nearly perfect transcript of Shuichi's interview, his best friend included notes on body language – priceless forensic evidence – along with the boy's remarkable recovery.

Journeying from death's door to commanding a conversation was no small feat.

Other tidbits, observations on the boy's astonishing self-control, despite his circumstances and injuries. No matter which angle Maes used, Shuichi remained calm, an answer always ready. The deliberate set-up of the room, filling in any gaps left in his companions' narrative; even volunteering an alkahestry demonstration. All bold, well-calculated power plays.

He couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Then there was Hiei, the most obstinate of the bunch. Spending a week in a cell would be difficult for anyone, yet being placed under Major Armstrong's care without nourishment, sleeping or making a sound?

Grown men would crack under that kind of pressure.

"Why isn't he eating?"

Eyes closing on the last report, Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. None of this matched his first impression of Hiei. Even though Armstrong commanded one of fire's natural enemies, the boy remained obstinate while making no attempts on the officer's life. The purple flames danced in his mind's eye, along with that snarling smile and reaching hand. Even with the Major's might, theoretically it would have been easy for the boy to escape, only he would have to leave his companions behind.

Still, that didn't explain starving himself to death.

"Everyone responds to fear differently." Hawkeye offered, gaze tracing the boy's name. "When their lives are in danger, food is the last thing most think about."

A snort, skin rolling between his thumb and forefinger. "Funny, he doesn't seem afraid."

The fight in the forest, the obstinate behavior, the choking hand and malevolent eyes that haunted him. None of those hinted fear, only anger.

An emotion capable of murder.

"It would be better to–"

Only Mustang couldn't say it. Jaw clenching, his fingers unfurled to shield his face but even that couldn't stop the boy's eyes from appearing: that primal look, joy lighting crimson when he believed his prey as good as dead.

A phantom of all the lifeless Ishvalan eyes from years ago.

The smartest option would be to kill Hiei. Taking down the boy here wouldn't be difficult, given his current state along with the possibility of ransoming his comrades. Such threats were the only means Armstrong found to encourage minimal cooperation yet it was all they had to work with.

If the kid refused to cooperate, he wasn't useful to the government.

Mustang knew this yet couldn't voice it, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He knew more than anyone what he was capable of but didn't want to kill another child, not if he could avoid it.

Not if what Shuichi said was true.

Hawkeye remained silent, taking in the trembling hand and stinted breaths – one of many battles she couldn't protect him from. Eyes softening, she took the reports, glancing over Hiei's before daring to speak. "Sir–"

A knock on the door, one they expected. Hawkeye glanced his way before laying the papers on the desk, gauging, testing. A voiceless groan and Mustang straightened, rubbing his face. He didn't protest when tired eyes sang beneath his palms though he stopped short of touching the burn marring his neck and earlobes, the underside of his jaw. There was no hiding the injury from the squad so he wouldn't try.

They'd all seen it by now, anyway.

She crossed the room with silent strides, an ease wrought for him. Mustang knew of her wounds: he'd seen the medical records, her winces when she believed he wasn't looking. Truth be told, the Lieutenant's injuries were more extensive than any who confronted the four – his were just more noticeable.

Still seated, he nodded at the door, mustering a calm he in no way felt. After all, the team expected a confident Colonel. He couldn't allow them to see an officer contemplating murder.

A man afraid of children.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

They fell into line as Hawkeye closed the door: Hughes, Armstrong, Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery, with Edward bringing up the rear. The officers saluted Mustang at the greeting but the boy shifted from one foot to the other, content with looking everywhere but at him.

Mustang stood, returning the salute before commanding them to be at-ease. The party visibly relaxed except the two alchemists: Edward's gaze fell to his boots while Armstrong spread his legs, hands clasped behind his back.

"I assume you all know why we're here." Mustang rounded the desk, noting Hawkeye in the corner, the tension tinging the air. Lips clamped around an unlit cigarette, Havoc's hand drifted to his belt, just shy of touching the holster there. Fuery adjusted his spectacles, swallowing as he met his commanding officer's gaze.

"A month ago, word reached Fuhrer Bradley that rebels were planning an attack against every military base in Amestris. The insurgents realized that while both sides have experienced casualties, unless they did something about the military's weapons and – more importantly – our State Alchemists, they could not win. The Fuhrer ordered squadrons in all five cities to converge on the rebels. However, we were too late."

His subordinates nodded, the scenes burned into their minds.

"The squad in East City experienced the infamous red circle; for whatever reason, we're the only ones who saw a transmutation first-hand. We are also the only squadron to confirm and apprehend suspects who appeared in the circle."

Falman's brow furrowed. "Does that mean the remaining circles brought others here, too?"

"Nothing has been confirmed yet but yes, we believe that's the case. Especially with the amount of blood discovered in the center of two of them."

Edward paled but said nothing, hands tightening to fists.

"Now that we're all caught up," Mustang allowed the sentence to hang, drifting until he stood directly in front of the blonde boy. "Since you decided to write such a short report, why don't you start us off, Fullmetal?"

He started, gritting his teeth. "What was short about it?"

A black eyebrow rose. "How else would you describe two sentences?" Reddened cheeks and those fists tightened further; the kid hadn't looked up once. "Or maybe you'd prefer to start before the encounter, such as why you and Alphonse deliberately disobeyed orders?"

Nose wrinkling, his head sank into his shoulders, as though he could disappear by wishing it. "We were trying to help."

A weak confession, feather-soft and fragile. "Under anyone else's command, you would have been court marshaled and your brother arrested. Do you understand that?"

Some small sound bubbled in Edward's throat though he didn't answer.

"How about we start at the beginning?" Hughes spoke up and though his characteristic smile was nowhere to be found, his eyes retained their warmth. "Go ahead, Ed."

A shallow breath and the boy swallowed, gaze fixed on the medals lining Mustang's jacket. Edward's attention never left glinting metal as he recounted the events of that day: accompanying Mustang and Hawkeye's pursuit of the suspects, being left behind as the tracks diverged. Ignoring the orders to wait for back-up because what if those guys got away in the meantime? What if they hurt someone because the Elrics didn't stop them? The confrontation, following proper protocol only for Yusuke Urameshi to tap dance on their efforts.

"The big guy, Kuwabara, asked about a girl named Yukina." Edward mused, consulting his notebook. "They both seemed to know her but when I said they'd be better off asking at Eastern Command, Urameshi asked if we knew you, Colonel. He didn't know your name, just that you were 'the man with the gloves'." Black eyes narrowed though Mustang remained silent. "When I told them you're my commanding officer, all bets were off – Urameshi wanted to fight."

A moment to gather his thoughts, tongue wetting dry lips. "Neither used alchemy at first. In fact, Kuwabara never did. They were strong, we couldn't making any headway and then . . . Al fell." He swallowed again, as if that could make his voice stop trembling. "Kuwabara reached for him and I, I thought he was going to hurt my brother."

He paused, taking a silent breath. "Before I knew it, my hands moved, a transmutation aimed at Kuwabara; only Al was there, too. Somehow Kuwabara knew what I was doing and told Urameshi to get away, only the big guy didn't move. He thought the reaction would hit Al, so he stopped it."

The last was barely audible but Mustang heard all the same. "With his fist."

Edward didn't answer, though he didn't expect him too.

"Hold on boss, you expect us to believe that guy stopped Ed's reaction with a punch?" Havoc demanded, rolling the damp cigarette to one side of his mouth.

"It explains the state of his hand. Stopping a reaction is possible, though dismantling one of this caliber requires years of experience."

He blinked. "You think he used alchemy?"

"Can you think of another explanation?" The Colonel turned back to Edward, conscious of the shuddering notebook in that gloved hand. "What happened next?"

"Urameshi was . . . angry; he thought I tried to kill his friend. He pointed his finger at us and Kuwabara got scared, told us to run." Edward brought up his right arm, index finger extended with the thumb raised – a child holding an imaginary gun. "The wind picked up and blue light appeared on his fingertip, along with a ringing sound."

"Like what, a bell?"

A nod. "The light grew and it felt . . . strange; wrong. There's no other way to describe it." Edward glanced around the room before settling on the alchemist at the end of the line. "When it reached the size of the Major's hand, he fired."

All stared as Armstrong lifted the object in question, fingers spread wide. Mustang crossed his arms. "You make it sound as though he fired a gun."

"Right, only we could see the bullet. He fired at me but I froze; my body wouldn't move. If Al hadn't pushed me away–"

But he couldn't say it, couldn't finish the thought.

"And this shot took out half a mountain?"

Mustang didn't want to press the boy but there was no other option. Central expected answers today – they were out of time.

Another nod, sliding the notebook back into his coat pocket.

"Think about the blue for a moment, Fullmetal. Was it an alchemic reaction?"

"No." The denial came immediately, the boy finally daring to look him in the eye. "There's no way that was alchemy."

Mustang expected as much, dipping his chin even though the action pulled at the burn. "How can you say for certain?"

"They didn't use transmutation circles; there was nowhere to draw one, anyway. Plus, it's impossible to transmute light. "

"Hmm, I wonder."

Hawkeye came to Mustang's side, signaling the end of his briefing. Edward opened his mouth only to immediately shut it, shame stirring at the bright burn.

"It's funny you should point out their not using circles, Fullmetal: neither of our opponents did, either."

Golden eyes widened, flicking between the two officers.

"When we followed their trail, we didn't expect those two to be waiting for us; at least, not out in the open." Hands brushing the wool of his coat, blue still dotted with scorch marks. "Shuichi wanted to talk, though negotiations quickly fell apart."

A decisive frown pulled at Falman's mouth. "Why? Did they demand something outrageous?"

"No, he wanted answers we do not have." Gray brows twitched though he did not interrupt again. "Apparently he believed we made the circle that brought them to Amestris."

"What?"

His team expressed similar sentiments though Breda was the first to find his voice. "But, that means–"

"They're not here by choice." Hughes finished the thought, pressing a fist to his mouth.

"If Shuichi is to be believed. You would know better than anyone, Hughes." Mustang turned to the rest as the bespectacled officer sank into thought. "But before we go over the interviews, all of you should hear about our encounter with Shuichi and Hiei. Lieutenant?"

"Sir."

Hawkeye straightened already perfect posture before turning her attention to her teammates. A fantastic tale, one hard to believe: Hiei attacking the Colonel as Shuichi fled for the forest, leaving her little choice but to follow; losing the trail only for him to leap from the treetops, somehow dodging a bullet mid-air. A struggle, Shuichi using the trees as cover in order to draw closer, close enough to disarm her but not before being shot in the shoulder. The ensuing brawl, combat skills on-par with those of a high-ranking officer.

"Then something strange happened. Vines burst from his nape and arm without warning, each with red buds." She met their stares unblinkingly, heedless of wandering eyes taking in nearly healed cuts and bruises. "I tried to move but Shuichi refused to let go of my wrist. Those vines snaked closer until the buds grew to the size of a human head, ready to bloom any moment."

Fuery shuddered; Falman did his best to conceal moist palms.

"A precarious predicament indeed." Armstrong rumbled, shuttering his eyes momentarily. "What happened when they bloomed?"

"Thankfully, things did not progress to that point. Shuichi passed out before the plant could fully mature."

Mustang nodded, taking his cue. "Hiei was equally troublesome. He appeared well-versed with a sword but didn't use it; a small blessing, given his speed."

A stomach growled and Breda cleared his throat. "His speed? What's so special about that?"

"When he ran, it was as if he disappeared – I never saw him until he struck." Wide eyes quickly masked by staunch professionalism. "To his credit, he only used flames, though his were just as strong as mine."

Havoc's brows hitched. "You're kidding, right boss?"

"No, we set the forest ablaze in a matter of minutes." A downward glance, taking in his jacket's condition. "I couldn't afford to hold back, not against him. When he slid in the mud, I exploited the weakness and transmuted flames on top of him; not enough to kill, just as an incentive to give up."

A soft gasp, groaning metal as Edward's fists tightened.

"Only it didn't work – my flames couldn't burn him."

Hughes' eyes suddenly hardened, disbelief darkening his gaze. "What did you say?"

"I lost count of how many times I tried burning him but nothing worked. Major Armstrong can confirm he acquired no injuries." The bulky man nodded, frown deepening. "We both realized I couldn't hurt him and before I knew it, Hiei lifted me off the ground by my throat." No one dared look at the exposed skin, the shimmering remnant sure to scar. "If Lieutenant Hawkeye had not managed to apprehend Shuichi and use him as leverage, I would be dead right now."

Mustang's men grimaced, no doubt recalling the scene when they finally caught up with their commanding officer.

"But she did and that's what matters."

A nod and Mustang turned to his best friend, warmed by the hint of a smirk. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, why don't you tell us about your interviews with Shuichi Minamino?"

Hughes stepped forward before giving his report, never breaking eye contact with the Colonel. The teen's name, age and nationality, as well as his testimony: childhood friend of Urameshi and Kuwabara, orphaned and homeless at five years old by Xing's last civil war; all three scooped up by insurgents and trained as child soldiers.

"They met Hiei during that time though he can't remember exactly when." He adjusted his spectacles before crossing both arms, brow pinched. "According to Shuichi, the four of them were at a lake in Xing when a transmutation circle appeared, transporting them here."

"That's impossible."

"Just passing it along." Hughes raised a hand, halting Mustang's protest. "When I asked about his involvement in the rebellion, he didn't seem to know anything about it, either."

A snort. "I'm sure."

"Thing is, I'm inclined to believe him."

Mustang's gaze narrowed, curiosity replacing scorn. "Why?"

"Up until that point, Shuichi went out of his way to silently assert himself: disconnecting himself from hospital equipment with staff none the wiser, freeing himself from handcuffs yet not bothering to leave his room or attack anyone, all so we could talk on equal terms. He even volunteered to show me his alkahestry and explained how it works." Hughes dipped his chin. "Word of a rebellion is the only thing that caught him off-guard."

Mustang frowned, debating. "He could be lying."

"Maybe but he didn't show any signs of deceit. Not once." He relaxed his arms, allowing both to settle past his sternum. "I'm not saying I trust him, just that I think he's telling the truth."

Silence, the united ticking of three pocket watches.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant Colonel, you're overlooking the fact that we have his comrades." Armstrong spoke, a low rumble that somehow managed to fill the room. "They've demonstrated outstanding loyalty toward one another and as you know, men have committed more treasonous acts than lie when hostages are involved."

Hughes took the criticism with grace, a smile curling his lips. "That may be true, Major Armstrong, but you may be giving him too much credit." Blonde brows furrowed, mustache twitching atop thick lips. "Yes, Shuichi has remarkable self-control and there's no doubt he's intelligent – but he's also a child. They all are: four kids taken from their home and dropped into our country by no fault of their own."

Slated jowls shifted though otherwise Armstrong didn't move. "I've seen no proof of their coming from Xing."

"I have." Mustang intervened, hands slipping into his pockets when both men turned to him as one. "Before his second meeting, Hughes approached me with a request – to conduct an interview with Shuichi in Xingese."

Blue eyes widened, the burly man momentarily struck speechless. "But sir, what if he made another attempt on your life?! You're in no condition to–"

"Your concern is touching but unnecessary, Major." The words should have been comforting yet their warmth didn't quite reach Mustang's eyes. "The Lieutenant Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye were present and would have provided protection, if needed."

The word fell from his tongue like a lead weight, cumbersome and foul.

"I – yes." Armstrong bowed his head. "Forgive me, Colonel, I misspoke."

Falman dared to speak after Mustang nodded. "What did you find out?"

Before he could respond a wave of fatigue hit, darkening his vision, threatening to pull him under. All at once the ticking grew too loud, his uniform too hot, the strain on his throat too great. Sleep; just a handful of hours over the course of a week. Sleep. He needed to sleep–

"Colonel?"

Mustang blinked and the fog faded, allowing him to see. Round golden eyes, understanding from his men, the look on Hawkeye's face he loved so well. He would definitely be getting a nap after this.

She'd make sure of it.

He cleared his throat, willing an easy tone. "As I was saying, Hughes allowed me to talk to Shuichi in what he claimed was his native tongue and, even though it's a backwater dialect, he definitely spoke Xingese. We were able to have a simple conversation."

Silence once more, interrupted by Hughes' cough. "Anyway, that's all I've got."

"Very well, thank you." Mustang crept down the line, offering Armstrong his undivided attention for the first time. "Now Major Armstrong, would you care to tell us–"

Only he stopped short, gaze fixed on the Strong-Arm Alchemist's neck. Mustang nearly missed the blood stains lining the jacket collar but there was no concealing the thick gauze taped to his skin, the crimson dying white material. A beautiful red.

A fresh red.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"N-no." Mustang swallowed, realizing he was the last to see the elephant in the room. "Major, what happened?"

"Nothing to concern yourself over, Colonel; just a misunderstanding with the boy."

The other officers stiffened though it was Fuery opened his mouth. "Boy? You mean–"

"That's right." Armstrong nodded, attention fixed on Mustang. "As for my charge, there is not much to report: Hiei adamantly refuses to eat; the only nourishment he's taken is water and that only because I threatened one his comrades. He's slept little and appears unaffected by his nearly naked state. It is unclear how much Amestrian he understands though he did not react to Xingese whatsoever – the only words he responds to pertain to violence."

Hughes nodded, knuckles pressed to his lips. "That tracks with Shuichi's statements." At the Major's look he lowered his hand, gaze traveling between Armstrong and Mustang. "This is in my official report but Hiei is half Xingese and half Ishvalan. He doesn't remember anything about his parents or where he was born; he's been fighting for as long as he can remember. According to Shuichi, he's perfectly capable of speaking but won't until he feels safe. Can't blame him there, apparently he's had a lot of run-ins with military and grown-ups with less than good intentions – those three are the closest thing to family he's got."

"That doesn't excuse his actions, Lieutenant Colonel!" Realizing he'd stepped toward Hughes, Armstrong checked himself, retreating back to his place. "Forgive me, I forgot myself."

Mustang watched Hughes nod, don the easy smile they all loved. "What happened to your neck, Major Armstrong?"

A sigh and suddenly the big man looked tired, older. "I'm afraid I was out of sorts after reading several field reports this morning. Seeing the casualties, the supplies needed and knowing the resources being used on those four, I felt . . . powerless. I tried to make the boy eat and when he refused, I lost my temper. He cares nothing for his own life so I threatened his comrades; he's smart enough to know we don't need all of them alive."

Edward sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring. Of course he knew the four were around his age – he was privy to the same information as the rest of the team.

"I went so far as to say his watching their executions could be arranged and he reacted boldly, nearly put my eye out. When I proved just as fast as he, he bit my neck – only my exceptional physique stopped him from piercing an artery."

Grimaces, faces painted with dread. "What happened then?"

"In a fit of passion, I threw him into the wall. Don't worry, he's fine." Armstrong held up an assaying hand. However, any who'd seen him fight knew what happened to those who met the wrong side of that hand. "Thankfully, you called before he further ignited my fury, Colonel."

"Yes, well. That will be all, Major." Clearing his throat, Mustang glanced at Hawkeye. "Have someone send a medic down to check on Hiei immediately."

She nodded, giving a smart salute before retreating from the room.

The last interviews were mostly uneventful. After all, both Urameshi and Kuwabara shared the same story, down to the same misused words. Eerie silence followed Breda and Fuery's claims that the oldest boy somehow knew the state of his friends without being told, even Shuichi's momentarily dying on the table. None commented on Yusuke's show of emotion though Edward noticeably perked up when Havoc mentioned his strange power, the force that almost killed the Elrics.

"And he said he 'shot' at Fullmetal?"

"That's the only straight answer I could get out of him. Kid said something about spirits and energy, sounded like something out of a cult." Havoc sighed, tucking the cigarette behind one ear. "Sorry Colonel, I couldn't understand any of it."

"No, you've done more than enough."

"This is a waste of time." Edward growled, turning on his heel.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mustang's voice, unflinching and cold.

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "We're done here, right? I've got better things to do than stand around all day." He raised his arm in a lazy wave, making for the door once more. "Don't worry, I'll have another report on your desk by this afternoon."

Mustang's protests fell on deaf ears, the boy's boots barely making a sound on plush carpet.

"Sure you don't have anything you want to add to Havoc's report, Ed? You spoke to Urameshi right after him, right?"

Edward froze, color draining from his face as he turned. Breda stood in his place still with arms crossed, emotions locked up tight.

"What?"

He flinched at Mustang's snarl, taking his time meeting his gaze. Mouth set in a scowl, the Colonel raised himself to his full height, fixing the kid with a look that would have made lesser men wet themselves.

"H-hold on, Colonel; it wasn't–"

"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, Fullmetal." Mustang dipped his chin, tranquil fury rending the pain meaningless. "Starting now."

Licking his lips, Edward swallowed, characteristic courage gone. "I . . . I wanted to see it again."

"See what? You were given clear orders to stay away from Yusuke Urameshi."

"I know! But," Another breath, clenching his jaw. "He almost killed us, killed Al. A reaction that big . . . I had to know how he did it."

"And what, you expected him to just tell you?"

"He called it the Spirit Gun." Edward ground out. "He also claims normal people can't see it."

"Normal people? Isn't that a bit conceited?"

"He wants to show it to you."

Mustang paused, brow furrowing. "And why would he do that?"

"I don't know. My guess is he wants the same thing Shuichi does, to prove he's not our enemy." A breath and Edward straightened, mustering the nerve to meet his gaze. "He also said if that's not enough, he'll do anything you want."

Rather than refuse outright, the Colonel pursed his lips, expression inscrutable. "Do you realize what you're asking?"

"Yes and if something goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility." Edward puffed out his chest, arms flush at his side. "You gave us a chance when we didn't deserve it, Colonel. Can't you do the same for them?"

Shuffling from behind, a throat clearing, yet neither looked away.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, "Fine."

Mustang turned to glance at the clock, pretending not to notice the hope springing in Edward's eyes. "Lieutenant Havoc, Second Lieutenant Breda, Major Armstrong, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, bring your charges to the firing range at 1300 hours. Fullmetal, Second Lieutenant Falman and Master Sergeant Fuery, you will act as witnesses alongside Lieutenant Hawkeye."

Five minutes til noon, plenty of time to prepare for the demonstration. "Dismissed!"

The clacking of boot heels, the slap of cloth signaling smart salutes. "Sir!"

"This is so stupid."

Yusuke didn't mean to say it out-loud but Havoc heard anyway, cigarette smoke tinging the air as he exhaled.

"Getting cold feet already?"

"Pfft, you wish!" Secretly, he'd been thrilled when the officer returned with the news, orders from the top. Apparently the brass wanted to see what he could do, a demonstration in exchange for the possibility of freedom. Not the best deal but at this point, he'd take what he could get.

At least Edward kept his promise.

Still, Yusuke couldn't help but scowl at the hospital gown, the paper shoes his big toes managed to tear through two steps down the hall. They wanted him to use the Spirit Gun in this?

Did they forget it was winter?

"I know it's not much but it's all they're willing to offer you." Havoc motioned to the gown, as if reading his mind. "Colonel Mustang's request for clothing was denied."

Yusuke bit his tongue, swallowing the retort bubbling in his chest. No way; he wasn't going to screw this up.

Not after everything it took to get here.

"How will I know if this guy likes what he sees?"

"Trust me, you'll know – he's not subtle about anything."

Havoc pushed open the door and immediately a gust caught their hair, blowing up the gown in a chilling rush. Yusuke cursed, knees knocking as he fought to pull the hem down, thick stocks catching cotton. Squinting, he could just make out the courtyard sprawled before them, sunbeams bouncing across downy tufts, darkening dead trees.

No one else was out but he expected as much. What kind of idiot volunteered to trek in the snow? Goose flesh tickling his arms answered that question; he'd been the one to suggest this, after all.

Havoc's hand at his arm and he stepped from beneath the hospital's awning, immediately sinking into ankle deep snow. This time he couldn't hold back a curse, falling back only to howl when the open rear of the gown filled with cold white. Manhood shriveling alongside hardened nipples, he fought vainly against chattering teeth, trying and failing to rise before allowing the officer to help him.

The walk to the awaiting car was uneventful, a man with gray hair and narrow eyes greeting Havoc by name. There wasn't any heat in the stupid thing but at least the men rode with the windows up – they didn't want to be cold either.

Everything in him said to run as they drove into traffic, every moment bringing him closer to the man with the gloves. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little afraid; after all, this guy bested both Hiei and Kurama. But running wasn't an option. The only way to save everyone was to best the military at their own game.

At least this way, if something went wrong they couldn't blame anyone but him.

Wrought iron gates and a stone wall loomed ahead, each corner adorned with pillars reaching skyward. Yusuke swallowed as they were allowed through, trying to take in everything at once. Buildings big and small, too many to count, lawn and walkways deserted save for a handful of soldiers stationed every 10 yards. Hard eyes monitored the car's progress in the shadow of a billowing flag, a flag bearing a lion with a snarling mouth.

Havoc didn't move until his buddy parked by a building near the back wall, turning to face him. "I need to step out for a moment. Think you can behave for Falman while I'm gone?"

Yusuke resisted the urge to make a face, resting his head against the back of the seat.

"Good." Havoc clapped the driver's – Falman's – shoulder. "He shouldn't give you any trouble but if he does, you know what to do."

A nod and he left, pulling up his collar against the wind. Falman shifted to watch Yusuke but he pretended not to see, taking in the officer beneath dark lashes. Play it cool, he reasoned silently; just a little longer and this will be over. Those three could find Yukina and a way home just fine; if they had to do so without him, that was fine.

As he was now, he'd just slow them down.

Rapping outside, Havoc at the window. "Colonel Mustang's ready."

Yusuke didn't need help this time, wood pressed to the gown as he rose. A hiss when he sank in the snow, sticky damp finishing off the shoes and leaving him barefoot. Jaw chattering so much it hurt, he couldn't feel his toes, couldn't feel much of anything. Not that it mattered. Gritting his teeth, he forced his legs to move, following the two officers around the building.

More white, a space that could have been a courtyard if it wasn't so bare. An open shelter stretched at his left, spared from the storm's fury by a slanted shingle roof. Another uniform, a soldier with a rifle resting at his side. Nothing he cared about, nothing to–

"Urameshi!"

He pivoted right, gaping at the familiar voice. Kuwabara stood with a soldier he didn't recognize, a husky man with a shock of pumpkin hair atop an otherwise shaved head. Decked in an undersized hospital gown, Kuwabara appeared just as cold as he, stocks binding his wrists, right hand wrapped in bandages. His friend's face contorted, a mixture of fear and hope he'd seen too many times.

Hiei and Kurama were there too, each with a guard. Though he stood without support, the fox's face was as white as the snow around them, breaths labored. Red locks spilling over both shoulders, he had no smile to offer yet appeared stronger than before, eyes clear, gears turning full speed. A man with glasses stood to his right, one Yusuke had seen only once, back when they first arrived. The guy wanted to talk back then but he refused; he'd already told Havoc everything he knew.

The fire apparition appeared unharmed though dried blood mingled with the filth coating his neck, cementing stiff hair to his nape. The sight was comforting in a weird way; it reminded Yusuke of old times, back when the world was simple and they could just punch whatever stood in their way. Hiei wore nothing except his boots and the pitiful remains of his pants, frayed cloth reaching just past his buttocks. Any other time, he'd tease the demon the improvised shorts but not now.

Not when he could see so many of his bones.

Hiei wasn't bound but then again, the other two didn't have a giant looming behind them. Encompassing blue led to a bull neck and a head as big as a basketball, the latter sporting a fixed mustache and a single curl of hair. Easily twice Yusuke's height, fists decorated with shining steel gauntlets:

The man from the warehouse.

Yusuke swallowed as the vague wrongness hit once more, staring at the metal, its stupid circles and squiggle words. Stomach clenching, he fought growing nausea, wishing not for the first time that Genkai was here. Even if the old bat didn't know what was going on, maybe she could tell him why these guys felt so weird. No way this was demon or spirit energy, not sacred energy, either.

Then what the heck was it?

"Are you ready?"

He stiffened, turning to the voice. Havoc's boss – Colonel Mustang – stood facing the shelter, gaze fixed on him, gloved hands resting at his sides. Apart from the wound on his neck, he looked the same as the night they arrived: eyes cold, posture somehow simultaneously rigid and relaxed, lips pressed into a frown. Shining red marred Mustang's throat, a healthy burn in the shape of a hand – an injury he'd know anywhere.

Yusuke stared at those gloves, tracing the red lines before meeting the Colonel's eye. He couldn't guess what the man was thinking. "What'd you have in mind? Wanna see how long it takes me to become a popsicle?"

Mustang's expression did not change, no hints of humor or satisfaction. "You told Fullmetal that you wished to show me your power."

The boy in question stood to his left, giving Yusuke a look he didn't quite understand. Edward's bruises were healing nicely, only a scrape and discolored cheekbone hinting at their encounter the week before. A blonde woman he didn't recognize watched on from Mustang's right, blue uniform and the handgun at her belt marking her as a soldier.

"Yeah, I said I'd show you." Yusuke jerked his head toward his friends, eyes hardening. "Why are they here?"

"And here I thought you'd want to see your friends." Mustang didn't comment on his glare, the bared teeth. "Given we know so little about about you, surely you understand I need a bit of insurance." Another sideways glance proved all the soldiers were armed, firearms glinting in their belts. "I wouldn't worry too much, though: as long as you hold up your end of the deal, they will not be harmed. You have my word."

Yusuke didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him but held his tongue. Maybe the military took their oaths seriously; Edward kept his promise, after all. "Let's pretend for two seconds that I believe you. What happens if you like what you see?"

A raised chin; the first solid reaction. "Follow my instructions to the letter and you and your friends will no longer be prisoners."

The slightest nod. Easy enough; maybe too easy. "What if I screw up? What happens then?"

Mustang said nothing, glancing at the other three. "That I cannot tell you. If you choose not to cooperate, it's out of my hands."

A strangled sound but otherwise Kuwabara remained silent, snow crunching as he shifted. Kurama continued sweeping the grounds, noting as fresh soldiers trickling in, boxing them in one at a time. Hiei didn't move but Yusuke saw the slush at his feet, steam rising from his skin. If worst came to worst, they would fight, only there was no way they could win, not with an entire military against them.

If this didn't work, they were screwed.

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

Mustang glanced toward the shelter and Yusuke followed suit, squinting against the sunlight. Seven bags overstuffed with straw slowly came into focus, fixed on posts like so many scarecrows. Flaking square boards rested behind each straw man, wood dotted with countless neat, round holes.

A handful of seconds passed before he realized what he was seeing. Bullet holes; a shooting range:

And every uniform was armed to the teeth.

"Your objective is to hit the practice dummy with the same technique you used on the Elrics." Mustang began walking and the woman followed, neither stopping until only two yards separated them from Yusuke. "If your claims to taking out half a mountain are true, this shouldn't be a problem. Fail, or damage Eastern Command in any way and that's it, you lose. There will be no second chance."

"Sounds easy enough." Yusuke lifted his arms, uncaring of the breeze playing peek-a-boo with the hospital gown. He could feel Edward watching but he didn't have time for the kid, not now. "Any chance I can get these off? It'd make this a whole lot easier."

A probing look. "Do you need both hands?"

"Well, not really."

"Then no."

"That's not fair!" Kuwabara stepped forward despite Kurama's warning, the guard's hand clamping on his shoulder. "You can't expect him to–"

"Kuwabara!" The psychic froze, glancing at his friend. "It's fine." Yusuke smirked and let his arms fall, rolling his shoulders until they popped. "I can only do this once, so you'd better not blink."

Mustang nodded, watching as he turned to face the targets. Bending both knees, Yusuke took steadying breath, chambering his fist as best he could. Eyes closed, he recalled Genkai's teachings about energy control, back when he first became Spirit Detective and could only fire the Spirit Gun three times a day. Well, he was down to two shots now but that didn't change anything.

Not with this technique, at least.

A short gasp he ignored, focused on the power pouring through his veins, coating his fist in familiar warmth. Lowering his center of gravity, Yusuke fought against the ebb, his body's desire to release everything at once. The basic of the basics, a refresher course only a maniac would take.

Relax, it's just like cooking; everything goes in the pot one at a time. There's only seven of them: seven ingredients, seven bursts. You've just gotta aim, Yusuke; just hit the stupid things and we can get out of here.

Baring his teeth in a savage grin, Yusuke stepped forward as he punched, the motion awkward but he somehow maintained his balance. Seven shots the size of golf balls sped through the air simultaneously, hitting the stuffed dummies one after another until none remained. Straw raining upon the snow, all strength fled and Yusuke fell, breathing ragged as cold wet clung to his neck, buttocks and back.

"He did it!" Kuwabara crowed, grinning. "What do you think of that?"

Only Mustang didn't speak, raising his right hand. The unforgettable sound of metal-on-metal and all soldiers save the guards surrounded Yusuke, guns aimed at his chest and head.

"Hey, hold on!" The psychic fought against the hand upon him, screaming at the officer. "What do you think you're doing?"

Kurama's gaze hardened further, hands open, ready. Hiei remained still though the slush beneath him had completely melted, fingers long since curled into fists. He was faster than any bullet – they all knew that – though even he didn't know if he could get Yusuke away from the firing squad unscathed.

"He did what you asked, didn't he? What kind of man goes back on his word?" Kuwabara managed to take one step despite the soldier's hold and low warning, gritting his teeth. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

"The safety of my country is more important, and oaths taken to my superiors trump those given to a stranger." Mustang's attention never left Yusuke, hand still raised. Even Kuwabara knew what would happen should he drop the appendage.

He didn't want to see his best friend die again.

"Hold on a sec!" Edward rushed forward, careful not to step into Hawkeye's line of fire. "What gives, Mustang? You said you'd let him go!"

"Was that it?" The blonde paused but his commanding officer didn't look his way. "I asked you a question, Fullmetal. Was that the technique used against you and Alphonse or not?"

"Um, not exactly." Edward glanced at the ring of soldiers, the eyes watching him between blue legs. "It was close; at least, the blue light was the same. You saw it though, right?"

The Colonel didn't reprimand him for his lack of etiquette, gaze roving between the boy on the ground and his companions. "The only thing I saw were seven targets combust one after the other in a matter of seconds – there was no light."

"What? You mean . . . you couldn't see it?"

Edward's question fell on deaf ears. Each soldier wore the same tight-lipped look as Mustang, nothing to hint at wonder or awe. What the heck–?

Why didn't they see the light?

"We saw it!" The boy started at Kuwabara's claim, turning to face him. "Pretty cool, huh? Those balls of light flying everywhere? That's Urameshi's Shotgun: it's like taking the Spirit Gun and cutting it into little pieces."

"I don't like using it because it's a pain." Yusuke sat up slowly, arms raised in surrender. "Didn't have much of a choice this time, though."

Mustang's gaze narrowed. "I told you to use the same technique–"

"Yeah, I know what you said. Any idea what would have happened if I followed your stupid plan?" A stirring; none present would dare insult a superior officer. "This yard, that wall, your dinky little doll house – it all would've been blown sky-high. Your orders sucked so I improvised. Plus, you didn't bother to tell me which target you wanted me to hit, so I got all of them."

The Colonel frowned. "Then explain why no one but Fullmetal and your friends can see this 'blue light'."

"Like I said before, the only ones who can see it are people who've had near-death experiences or have a strong sixth sense." He rose on shaky legs, trembling with cold. "Makes sense because it's spirit energy."

"Spirit energy?"

"Yeah. Let's see, how do I put this?" Gaze drifting to Kurama, Yusuke saw the red head raise his hands to cover a cough, fingers pressing to his chest on the way up and back down. "Spirit energy is kind of like life energy – it comes from your soul. Everyone has it but most don't know how to use it, at least that's what the old hag says."

A raised brow. "The old hag?"

"My teacher, a really, really old lady. You'd probably get along great." Another breeze but Yusuke didn't dare move too much, not with so many guns pointed his way. "Anyway, using too much spirit energy can take years off your life so you gotta be careful with it; that's one reason grandma waited so long to take on an apprentice."

Another hard look, hand still raised. "None of that fits even remotely into the realm of science."

"Sorry, I've always sucked at science." Fatigue was setting in, pulling at his eyelids along with the cold. "Look, I told you what I did and how I did it: I followed your instructions even though they were crappy. If you want to kill me for that, fine, but leave the others out of it – I'm the one who screwed up."

Mustang considered him for a moment, this child who'd had the military on the edge of its seat for over a week. Bound, sleepy-eyed and dead on his feet, there would never be a better opportunity to kill Yusuke Urameshi than right now. Such might even be considered a mercy.

He could only imagine what the higher ups would do when they heard of the kid's power.

Still, his conscience pricked him, the pesky thing that kept him up at night. Mustang didn't want to add Yusuke's face to countless others which haunted his dreams, eyes fogged over, skin blooming black and red. So, he did the only thing he could do.

Mustang rescinded the order, arm slowly sinking to his side. "At ease."

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and New Year! Once again, thank you for taking the time to read Divergence – I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please leave your thoughts in a review.

So, Mustang's crew is up to speed and Yusuke got his chance to shine. Will the Colonel honor his word and, if so, what's next for Yusuke and the others? Find out next time!