Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Um. Long, long chappie. Much, much rewriting. Many, many characters wanting their say and even then some of them will have to wait for later chapters. Please, please review. And a huge THANK YOU to all of you who sent me PMs and wrote reviews to tell me that you were enjoying the story, you don't know how much good that did a soul!

For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.


Chapter 13: Dawn

Dust and smoke and gunpowder everywhere, settling on the ground, and on tongues and teeth and in hair and uniforms, obscuring vision and numbing perception. This was just like Ishbal all over again, thought Maes Hughes, blinking blearily through rain-fogged glasses, his feet sliding about under him in the slimy mix of mud and gore underfoot as he picked his way through the ruts and trenches dug into the ground in search of his unit. Left foot, right foot, a never-ending slog that made your muscles hurt because they just couldn't settle into any kind of rhythm as they fought to keep you upright. All around him men were struggling with each other, intent only on survival, and he was forced to draw his sidearm a couple of times and put a bullet through the head of some poor soul whose only sin was being here. Yep, Ishbal all over again, except that Roy wasn't next to him. But this time that was all right, because Auric would watch out for Roy, he knew he would, and not just because of that damned contract, either. He only hoped Roy wouldn't incinerate him when he discovered the ruse his old friend had dreamt up. Perhaps if he threatened to will all his pictures of Alicia to the Flame Alchemist….

"Sir!" and a familiar face appeared out of the murk to his right. It was Major Armstrong, looking much the worse for wear. While the absence of his shirt wasn't unusual, the rips and gashes that marred his physique certainly were, as was the hangdog expression he was wearing. Even the little blonde curl that normally hung proud and tight on his forehead was limp and bedraggled.

"Major! Good to see you're all right," said Maes in relief. "I thought we'd arrived too late. Auric's gone off to look for Alphonse. Where's the General?"

Armstrong's plump pink face folded up on itself, and his moustache quivered ominously. "We…lost him."

Maes gaped dumbly, a part of him refusing to hear what Armstrong was saying, trying to convince himself that he had misheard the man over the screams of the wounded and the dying. "Lost him? You mean he's dead?" No. No. Roy couldn't die at the hands of some lowly Drachman soldier, he was the Flame Alchemist, for crying out loud, the sole reason Maes was still here in this goddamned army. To watch that arrogant idiot's back and make him Fuhrer. To help him change the world.

"No…the Homunculi took him to the Fuhrer," hiccupped Armstrong. "Alphonse-kun went after him and hasn't come back."

"What do the Homunculi have to do with the Fuhrer?" blurted Maes in confusion. And then a horrible, sickening comprehension hit him like a ton of bricks as with a neat, tidy click, all the puzzle pieces fell into place. The sudden hostilities by Drachma. The claims from both sides that it was the other party that had violated the non-aggression pact first. The countless schemes to made by various factions to cast aspersions on Mustang's reputation and have him arrested - the multiple attempts on Roy's life, especially as the war had escalated and Roy's ceaseless machinations were sometimes all that stood between hundreds of men and certain death because of some foolish military stratagem dreamed up by the Fuhrer.

"He's one of them, sir," said Hawkeye softly, squelching up to them. She looked exhausted, and her eyes were red from the smoke in the air. Maes could dimly make out the remains of what looked like a company coming up behind her, and the recognizably lanky figure of Lieutenant Havoc with a glowing cigarette in his mouth motioning to a section to split off and form a defensive perimeter around the officers. How on earth that man was managing to keep it alight in this rain was beyond him. "The real enemy isn't Drachma. The Homunculi stirred up the war for their own purposes. We've had a hell of a time distinguishing friend from foe, because some of the men are remaining loyal to the Fuhrer and others were in league with him all along."

Armstrong nodded. "When the Homunculi attacked – they were obviously targeting the General and Alphonse. I saw Lust run him through with her claws, and with the rain…" he broke off, and for an awful moment Maes thought he was going to cry here, in the middle of the battlefield, in the middle of all this death, and he wanted to say something, anything to remind him that the men were watching and that as much as he might share Armstrong's fears they couldn't do this right now, and then Major Alex Louis Armstrong straightened and lifted his chin high in that proud manner that had defined generations of Armstrongs in loyal service to their country and continued, "…the rain impaired the General's offensive capabilities, sir. I would have gone after him, but I felt it important to remain and rally our men so as not to lose our forward momentum. We've broken the back of the Drachman forces, sir. Lost about half our men in the process, but the line is still intact. We're focusing on containing the Drachman forces, and they haven't put up much resistance since the Homunculi revealed themselves – seems like they're starting to realize who the real enemy here is. Wounded are being evacuated to the MASH. Reports so far are coming in and it seems that there are still knots of fighting going on centred around a few of the Homunculi. We were planning to regroup and then send out a search and rescue party for the General and Major Elric."

"I should have gone with him," Hawkeye said bitterly. Havoc looked like he wanted to say something badly, but instead turned away, his shoulders slumping. Maes closed his eyes for the briefest instant as his friend's face flashed before his eyes, then let out a shuddering breath, swallowed hard and pulled his shoulders back, the very image of an officer very much in command of the situation. He could literally feel the tension in the air lift fractionally, as the men recognized that the chain of command had been reinforced, but the weight on his shoulders seemed to have increased exponentially. How the hell did Roy do this all the time? He pushed the thought from his mind and forced a confident smirk onto his face.

"Good job, Major Armstrong," and he let his hand fall lightly on the big man's shoulder, feeling him relax in response. If they all lived through this, he was going to get Armstrong a promotion, sentimentality be damned. "I'm going to need you to lead that rescue party; if the Homunculi have the General, I very much doubt a regular team is going to do it. Are there any other alchemists available?"

Hawkeye shook her head bleakly, operational details at her fingertips as usual. "No, sir. The civilian draftees are mostly dead or severely wounded, and the few who are mobile are helping to contain enemy combatants and re-establish supply lines. None of them are particularly skilled in offensive warfare. Sir."

"You should stay here and take command, Colonel," rumbled Armstrong, who seemed to have been rejuvenated by Maes's praise. "The Armstrongs have a proud history of excelling at special operations. I can take a platoon out alone." A thought seemed to strike the State Alchemist. "What of Auric-kun? His abilities are strong, if untrained."

"Auric's…busy with something for me," hedged Maes. That earned him baffled looks all around, and Hawkeye was opening her mouth to press him further, when there was a choked cry from one of the sentries.

Havoc swore, dropping his cigarette. "Schmitty! Report!" Hawkeye had dropped to one knee protectively in front of Maes, rifle at the ready. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the early morning mist was making it difficult to see much more than a few feet. For a moment the only sounds were the sharp clicks of guns being cocked juxtaposed against the duller background roar of distant artillery fire. And then a sultry purr interposed itself into the group.

"Are those really guns or are you gentlemen just happy to see me?" The curvaceous figure of Lust sauntered negligently out of the mist smiling kittenishly as she wiped a bloody hand on her dress. Riza Hawkeye's face tightened and she raised her rifle, only to be stopped by Maes's hand pressing insistently on her shoulder. The Sin nodded amusedly at that. "I'd take the dear Colonel's advice, sweeting – you may be female, but you're no woman and hardly a match for me."

"What have you done with General Mustang?" asked Maes coldly, eyes flickering over the Sin as he tried to find a weakness he could exploit. Come on, think, you're supposed to be the devious one…where the hell is Auric?

"Nothing…although I'd certainly welcome the opportunity to do him," murmured Lust, tracing a fingertip thoughtfully over her collarbone suggestively. "Mmm. But selfish Pride is keeping him all to himself. He gets that way, you know. And Envy has some score or another to settle with whichever Elric brother it is you've dragged along. That boy is just too good at keeping grudges!" She smiled lazily. "So I thought I'd come play with you instead. Don't you feel special?" And without warning, she launched herself lithely at Maes, only to be thrown to the ground screeching as Hawkeye spun her rifle dextrously in her hands and planted the butt of it firmly into the Sin's stomach as she passed overhead. A nasty sneer crept over Lust's face as she stood easily, fingers lengthening into vicious claws. Riza Hawkeye glared back, unfazed.

"Major Armstrong, get the Colonel to safety! And find the General!" No one blinked at the fact that Hawkeye was giving an order to a superior officer and Maes found himself being plucked from the ground and buried against the vast bulk of Armstrong's body as the alchemist threw up a wall of dirt, forming a shield between the pair and the Sin.

Lust snickered. "No wonder the General never once noticed you, you're practically a man. Men don't like to be ordered about, darling, they like to be seduced by our feminine wiles. You really could stand to be a little less…frigid."

"Alpha Company, ready your rifles!" snapped Hawkeye stonily. "You have ten seconds to surrender, Homunculus."

The smile evaporated from Lust's face. "You are starting to bore me, Captain."

"Five seconds."

With a hiss, the Sin sent lance-like fingers shooting towards Hawkeye who batted them aside with her rifle stock. The sudden motion caused her to slip and fall, and the rattled soldiers promptly opened fire on the Homunculus, creating a temporary distraction as Havoc rushed forward to shield Hawkeye. "Riza! Are you all right?" She coloured at the look in his eyes. His profession of love on the eve of battle had been embarrassing enough, but the naked honesty in his eyes was too much to deal with under the circumstances. He seemed to sense her discomfort as he pulled back quickly, extending an impersonal hand as she struggled to get up.

"Just the wind knocked out of me," she said sharply, taking his hand gratefully. It was warm and dry and oddly comforting. "Where is she?"

"The men have her – AH!" screamed Havoc as claws ripped into his back and lifted him bodily into the air. Riza stared up in horror as Havoc writhed helplessly, impaled on Lust's tines. The surviving men of the company were frantically reloading, but she knew there just wasn't enough time. The Sin smiled in a mockery of reassurance at her.

"Oh, don't worry. You didn't want this one anyway, did you? Poor little Riza, only wanting the one she can't have. Such a waste, this one's actually quite sweet. Perhaps I'll keep him for myself?"

And Riza Hawkeye suddenly decided she'd had quite enough for one day. Swiftly, calmly, she drew her sidearm, walked right up to Lust, and emptied the revolver point-blank into the Homunculus's head. Her actions had been so unexpected and matter-of-fact that no one, least of all the Sin, had time to react before the sounds of the last gunshot died away, leaving behind only the acrid smell of gunpowder. The Homunculus staggered, dropping Havoc as she clawed at her face, and Riza tossed aside her gun as she slipped her arms under his shoulders and heaved him to safety. "Jean? Are you all right?"

"Remind me…never…to piss you off…" he grinned weakly.

She smiled tremulously. "Well, then you'd better not die on me…I'm not one of your easy girlfriends. I expect to be wined and dined, you know."

"How touching," came the sneer. Lust was already straightening up, her face a parody of its usual sinister beauty as it regenerated before their eyes. "But I don't think either of you are going to live long enough to have to worry about that." She started towards them, teeth bared in a rictus grin – and then faltered as a cry of pain rang through the air. "Pride?"

All eyes turned in the direction of the sound. The heavy dawn mists seemed to be burning off despite the ongoing damp, and a few brave, if faint, beams of sunlight fought their way through the clouds to illuminate a ridge midway in the distance. Maes scrambled out from Armstrong's protective grasp and fought his way to a clear vantage point. He heard a gasp go up all about him as the men saw the Fuhrer stumble backwards, clutching at his face. The tall, broad figure of the Earth Moving Alchemist was silhouetted against the light as he stooped, cradling a man half-lying on the ground who could only be the General. And interposed between the Fuhrer and the two alchemists was a slight but easily recognizable figure. Even if the red coat flapping in the breeze hadn't telegraphed its identity to all and sundry, the shaft of sunlight that lit up hair that glinted pure gold screamed it aloud.

A ragged cry went up from the soldiers of Amestris, strengthening into a roar that fairly shook the ground. "It's the Fullmetal Alchemist!"

Maes grinned grimly, ignoring the stunned looks around him. "Give them hell…Fullmetal."


"Ed?"

The wistful hopefulness in Mustang's voice, so at odds with the man's normal air of cool invulnerability, tugged at Auric's conscience. Maes was so going to take the fall for this one when the truth came to light. But first, he had a job to do – a contract to fulfil - and the trained spy in him pushed aside the guilt and compassion that was Auric and nestled deeper into the character he had to play, that he'd heard so much about but had never actually met except by dreams and moonlight. Clothes maketh the man, he vaguely remembered Alp once laughing as they had stripped off beggar-man rags that had reeked to high heaven. And so he allowed himself to settle into the unaccustomed tightness of the coat around his shoulders, so different from the loose folds of his cloak, the heavy stiffness of his leather pants, the softness of the gloves against his skin as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, almost-but-not-quite slouching as he rolled his eyes irritably and stepped over the General's prone figure, subtly putting himself between the man and the Fuhrer. "Not now, bastard, I'm busy cleaning up your mess, and I'd better not hear any whining about a report later, either! Al, get the General out of here."

Auric held his breath. If anyone would see through the charade at this point, it would likely be Al – the younger man wasn't stupid, and he was very familiar with both the Gatekeeper and his brother. Any expression of doubt on his part and Auric would lose the psychological upper hand he was counting on. Fortunately, Al merely nodded obediently and made to move towards the General, only to pause as a thought seemed to occur to him. "Just a moment," he said softly – and turning around, violently backhanded Envy as the Sin tore himself free from the metal shaft pinning him to the ground. The Homunculus collapsed, knocked unconscious by the unrestrained force with which the normally placid alchemist had struck him, and Auric and Mustang gaped in shock as Al kicked him hard in the face, glaring down vengefully at the unmoving Sin. "That's for hurting my brother," rebuked the alchemist coldly, his voice laced with an unmoving steeliness that evoked memories of a much larger armoured silhouette. And then Al was turning back towards them, large grey eyes soft and worried as he knelt by the General and slipped a supportive arm under his shoulders as Auric flicked an amused eyebrow at him. He was pretty sure Alp would have done the same thing, having witnessed what had happened to the few idiots who had underestimated the wrath of the even-tempered Gatekeeper. Despite Al's gentle touch, Mustang hissed as the jagged ends of a broken rib rubbed against each other, his eyes cloudy with pain and shock.

"So the rumours of your demise were exaggerated, Fullmetal?" beamed Fuhrer King Bradley benevolently as he regained his balance, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that he had twenty-one inches of metal through his left eye-socket. He reached up and plucked the dagger out effortlessly, tossing it aside carelessly and stripping off his eye patch to reveal an ouroboros as his lips drew back in a caricature of a paternal smile. "And why, it seems you've learned a few thing while you've been AWOL. Daggers instead of spears now, eh? Ah, you were always a quick study, even when you were littler."

If he were completely honest with himself, Auric would have had to admit that his response wasn't entirely attributable to staying in character. Denial could be a wonderful thing. "Who the hell are you calling so short that he wouldn't have to duck if a sword were swung at him because his head doesn't reach higher than your boot-tops, you overgrown, pompous excuse for a despotic troll?" He luxuriated in the adrenaline rush that came with exercising his lungs, the electric lick in his veins that swept through his system washing away the clouds of pain and fatigue that had been plaguing him since the last Gate.

"Now, now, is that the way to address to your Fuhrer, Fullmetal?"

"What, you wanted me to write you a Memorandum Of Understanding?" snorted the blonde man. "Bureaucrats. Do you file requests for toilet paper in triplicate every time you crap, too, asshole?"

"Be careful, brother," warned Al as he carefully stood supporting Mustang, the older man leaning most of his weight on the younger. "He's a Homunculus too. Pride."

"Really," grunted Auric hostilely, filing that bit of information away under the "did not see that coming" category. Which, he had to admit, had been receiving many, many new submissions ever since he had woken up in that little room in Risembool. "Well, I guess that explains why you aren't dead yet then."

Pride shook his head sorrowfully. "Fullmetal, it breaks my heart to see you behaving this way. After all, it was I who welcomed you into our ranks."

"I earned my place myself, you patronizing son-of-a-bitch," snarled Auric, and oddly enough felt genuine resentment bubbling up. Before he could examine the reason for this feeling more closely, however, another sensation, more familiar, more recent, began to make itself known. He frowned in confusion. It seemed to be coming from the Homunculus before him, and it felt like the energy beacon he used when opening a Gate. The Gatekeeper rifled feverishly through his near-photographic memory. What had Al and Mustang told him about these creatures? Named for the deadly sins, they had no souls…amazing regenerative abilities…in order for them to be able to mimic human form, they required fragments of an incomplete Philosopher's Stone…the lives lost in the stone provided energy….

Energy. Oh, my. Auric felt a lovely feeling begin to work its way up from his belly, like a nice warm bubble of pure smugness, and his golden eyes danced with a hint of malice as a broad smile spread over his face. "Al, get moving. Don't worry about me."

"You know what they say, about pride, Fullmetal," chuckled the Sin, and faster than the eye could follow, he had drawn his sabre and lunged at the slight youth. But just as quickly, Auric had ducked and rolled, coming gracefully up into a ready position, sais drawn. "What?" Pride asked in feigned concern. "No alchemy? I'm disappointed in you, Fullmetal. Have the intervening years caused you to lose your touch? Your certifications must be hopelessly out of date."

Mustang's head snapped up, and a grey light of understanding dawned in his eyes. Auric didn't meet his gaze, ruthlessly suppressing the bitter bile of guilt welling up in this throat. A hot wave of resentment surged up abruptly, railing against the threads of Fate that had led him to this moment in this place to be the cause of such disappointment, and he latched on to the redness of rage to parry the Sin's attacks, even as his mind dimly processed the roar of soldiers around them flinging themselves back into the fray with renewed vigour. They sang the name of the Fullmetal Alchemist on their lips like a prayer and an invocation, a war-cry, a hail to their hero who had returned in their hour of need. He was moving on pure instinct as he wove in a macabre dance with the Sin; slash, parry, block, attack, counterattack, recovery, blades going flick, flick, flick, flick…and then he caught the sabre in the tines of his sais and ripped it out of the Sin's hands, sending it flying through the air. Pride staggered back, and Auric sheathed his sais contemptuously, grinning wolfishly, his eyes glowing as he tossed his sweat-and-waterlogged braid back behind his shoulder. Energy….

Al stared at his erstwhile brother in fascination. The blonde man threw back his head and laughed. "You want alchemy, mein Fuhrer? I'll show you alchemy." And in a sudden swift rush he leaped forward, clapping his hands together and slamming his palms into the Sin's chest, fingers curling into fists as he yanked the Homunculus's face down to his. Pride's one good eye widened and he struggled desperately as he felt the energy draining from the Philosopher's Stone and into the human with the mocking golden gaze. He scrabbled blindly, grasping at the man's arms, and his mouth opened in a wordless cry as he felt not one but two flesh-and-blood arms. Auric smiled innocently. "Oops. You know what they say about Pride," and the Homunculus shrieked as he disintegrated into a sodden, oozing mass that shuddered and fell apart until it was indistinguishable from the other gore that decorated the battlefield. A dull brownish red stone made a sad, small splatter as it fell into the mud underfoot and crumbled into dust.

The Gatekeeper could feel the energy he had drawn from the Homunculus run buzzing and tingling through his blood, creating a feeling of light-headedness. He focused on pushing it down through his body and into the ground, letting the excess bleed off, but using some of it to replenish his worn-down reserves, savouring the feeling of…fullness. Of being recharged. Rejuvenated. Reborn. He stretched luxuriously, and cast a look of distaste at the quivering bloody mess at his feet.

"It goes before a fall."


Dawn: (n) 1. The time each morning at which daylight first begins; 2. A first appearance, a beginning

(v) dawned, dawning, dawns: 1. Become clear or enter one's consciousness or emotions, to begin to be perceived or understood