"Crawford said that there was a fuse box here, right?" Prentiss asks.
"It was over this way," Hughes volunteers, using Dave's flashlight to make his way to where the fuse box is. A moment later, the lights come up.
The scene is just as eerie without the dismembered body and just a lot of blood where he was. But Dave doesn't really care about the scene—he cares about Mustang's reaction to it.
Right off the bat, his posture is different than the last time she met him. He holds himself like a military man, like he's the one in charge of the scene, and it's clear he doesn't realize he's doing it. At least it jives with his claim of being a general.
His eyes move over the circle on the floor critically, not terribly unlike Reid would analyze a map. He obviously knows what he's looking at, even if it's only clear to him. His eyes barely pause on the giant pool of blood on the floor.
"A dozen victims?" Mustang asks, still focused on the circle.
"Plus our three agents," Prentiss reminds.
"The array is only built to accept twelve victims," Mustang says as if it's plainly self-evident. "Your agents weren't accounted for in the calculations." He lifts his head and looks at Hughes, who looks grim but not nearly as upset as a civilian should. "Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all?"
Hughes props his chin on his hand for a moment, thinking. "Hands? I think. Black arms?"
"And disembodied eyes?"
Hughes winces but nods, even as he shudders.
"Disembodied hands and arms?" Rossi asks. "Like Tucker Maes's?"
Mustang snorts. "No. Not even a little bit. But your agents should have been safe from this unless they interacted with it. You can see just by looking around that not much of the barn appears disturbed. Would they have approached it?"
"Ed told us not to," Dave says. "But in the heat of the moment…" He shrugs. "JJ and Morgan may have simply forgotten."
"Or not taken the warning seriously in the first place," Mustang says with obvious disgust. He goes to the edge and rubs out a line.
"Hey!" Prentiss snaps.
"This array was still complete. Alchemy is still active in this world. Think of an array like a computer program. All it needs is someone to hit enter to start it again. By erasing part of the array, you break the part of the code that can activate it." He looks up. "What exactly did Ed tell you about the other array?"
"He gave us the profile and told us not to touch any intact circles or anyone touching them," Dave says. "The profile was thorough and, I think, quite accurate. But he didn't explain why we needed to stay out of the circle."
"Probably because if he said 'it might pull you apart at the atomic level,' I doubt you would have believed him," Mustang says, crouching to get a better look at part of the array.
Dave sighs and catches Reid looking at Hughes contemplatively. "Something nagging, Reid?" he asks.
Reid shakes himself. "I just… don't understand why you had…" he hesitates, as if trying to decide what nomenclature to apply, then continues with, "Mr. Hughes strip down."
"Yeah, Roy," Hughes says, sounding amused. "Why the burning need to see me in my altogether?"
"And you called him a 'homunculus.' And I don't think you know what that word means," Reid continued.
" I don't know what that word means," Prentiss says, her irritation at all of this in her voice.
"It can mean a little man, manikin, or there's also a preformation theory that a miniature adult—"
"They were artificial humans," Mustang interrupts him, enough venom in his voice to set off serious red flags for Dave. "Alchemically created artificial humans. Soulless monsters who served an even greater one."
Under nearly any other circumstance, Dave would think Mustang is being allegorical, but he has a niggling fear that he's not.
"What kind of monster?" Agent Seaver asks. She's been so quiet, Dave nearly forgot she was there.
Mustang's head turns to her. "What?"
"What kind of monster?" she repeats calmly, expectantly. "The kind that the BAU hunt?"
A rictus grin pulls at Mustang's lips, and if Dave had reservations about this man before , he wouldn't call them reservations any longer. Hughes looks solemn, but not surprised, so this isn't behavior that Hughes is unfamiliar with, but it is behavior he doesn't like.
"The kind that you can unload a clip into and not slow them down. The kind you can drop a bomb on and merely inconvenience. The kind that can watch you through the shadows, make the very darkness cut you to shreds. The kind that can eat you whole."
"The kind that can turn into the person you love most in the world while they put a bullet in your gut," Hughes finishes coldly.
Mustang turns to him and nods.
"And why you had to strip Mr. Hughes?" Prentiss asks, looking unsettled. Dave can relate because he feels unsettled.
Turning his attention back to the circle on the floor, Mustang says, "Homunculi have an ouroboros tattoo on them. One even had one on his tongue. But Maes doesn't. He's not a homunculus."
"Are you sure about that?" Hughes himself asks, looking concerned.
Mustang waves his concern off. "You came from the Gate itself. If there's anything that can resurrect someone, it's Truth."
"Truth?" Reid asks.
There's a pause before Mustang answers. "I don't know much about it," he says, moving over to another part of the circle, breaking up more of it before he walks into it to get a closer look at some of the symbols. "Ed has had more encounters with it. I only saw it once, and it never spoke to me."
"And what is it?" Prentiss demands, clearly tired of the half answers and evasions.
Mustang trembles, going pale, eyes going distant. When he speaks, his voice takes on a note of recitation. "An existence that we would call 'the world,' or perhaps 'the universe,' or perhaps 'God,' or perhaps 'Truth,' or perhaps 'all,' or perhaps 'one.'"
Something about the words is somehow chilling, making the hair stand on the back of Dave's neck, and he sees a visible shudder go through most of the others. Such innocuous words should not evoke such a response.
Mustang rubs at the palms of his hands as if recalling old pain, and lets out a long, shaky breath, which seems to bring him back to himself. "Ed calls it Truth."
"All right," Prentiss snaps, sounding genuinely angry. "We're done here. Whatever game you and Elric are playing, I am done with it."
"Game, agent?" Mustang asks.
"Your boyfriend is missing, and so are two of my other agents and a dozen other people. Whatever is going on here, your storytime is over. The pony trick was good, but I'm done listening to this nonsense. If you won't be helpful, I'm arresting you for obstruction—"
"And you wonder why Ed wouldn't tell you," Mustang interrupts in a sneering, condescending tone that's among the best Dave has encountered. "Alchemy wasn't working, and you expected him to explain and not think he was crazy."
"We have real monsters to deal with," Prentiss informs, pulling her handcuffs.
"You have human monsters to deal with," Mustang tells her, starting to get angry himself. "Humans who die when you shoot them. Who have physical limitations on what they can do to a person."
"Roy…" Hughes says, and there's a note in his voice that isn't quite fear but is definitely concern. Rossi reaches for his gun and sees the other BAU agents do the same. There's no rational reason to, except instinct tells him that Mustang is very, very dangerous.
"There was no alchemy in this world!" Mustang snarls. "Yet somehow your unsub did this!" He spreads his hands out, gesturing to the circle beneath him. "And you think I'm making up stories ?"
He brings his hands together in a clap, then crouches down and hits the floor, blue lightning sparking from all around him, racing in arcs away from him, toward them.
The floorboards beneath their feet come alive, pieces peeling off and becoming like giant needles. Before Dave can even quite register what is happening, the spires are blocking him in, blocking his gun, and he can't move. When it stops, only Mustang and Hughes are left free.
"Tell me, Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss," Mustang sneers. "Does it seem like I'm telling stories now?"
"Roy," Hughes's voice seems very loud in the room, and when Dave looks at him, he's holding a gun on Mustang. A quick accounting shows him closest to Seaver who doesn't have her gun. "Let them go."
Shock is chased by betrayal, then quickly followed by resignation. Mustang hangs his head and smiles, a humorless grin, as if he should have expected no better.
"Perhaps I haven't changed so much," Mustang says, rueful, but the temper seems to have gone out of him.
"Hawkeye isn't here to stand between you and yourself," Hughes says, voice steady even in the face of holding a gun on his friend.
Mustang sighs. "We can't have you putting a bullet in me. I don't know for sure what it would do to Ed." He claps again, softly this time, then crouches instead of dropping. The spires sink back down into floorboards, though they look new and cleaner, there's a strange pattern in the wood that wasn't there before. Dave, Prentiss, and Reid all draw their weapons on Mustang as he stands, but he claps again, still soft, and puts his hands to his chest. The static flares as his clothing reconfigures itself around him until he's wearing a blue-and-gold decorated uniform, white gloves with red embroidered circles on the back of each hand.
Hughes has lowered his weapon, the relief plain on his face. If Dave hadn't entirely believed that Mustang is a general, he believes it now, seeing him standing there in his uniform, completely at ease with the way its decorations sit on his shoulders.
"You can lower your weapons now," Mustang says, almost amused.
"They wouldn't do you much good anyway," Hughes adds, handing his weapon back to Seaver. "Nice reflexes."
"Thank you?" she replies, looking a little bit dazed. Dave doesn't blame her—he feels dazed, his adrenaline is rushing and his mind is scrambling for an explanation of what just happened. It's coming up short. He focuses his mind on what he knows, and he knew that look in Mustang's eyes—a killer's eyes.
"Has Ed seen you like that, Mr. Mustang?" Dave asks, not daring to lower his gun.
Mustang buffs a sleeve as if clearing dust from it. "He has seen me much worse, Agent Rossi." He glances up to meet Dave's eyes. "And I suppose I should point out that you putting a bullet in me won't be any different than Maes doing it."
"Hiding behind your boyfriend?"
"Agent Prentiss," Mustang says with a longsuffering sigh. "I don't have to hide behind anyone. I can kill you all before you can pull those triggers if I have to. I simply feel it's clear at this point that this is not a game, and that what I have told you, however difficult to believe, is true. It should also be apparent that if you want to recover your missing teammates, you will likely need my help."
"I can reproduce this circle," Reid says.
"I'm certain you can, Dr. Reid," Mustang says, sounding remarkably unbothered by that. "You might even survive the attempt, though only Truth knows what it might cost you."
"Cost?" Seaver asks.
"Human transmutation is a taboo for a reason," Mustang says, and it's hard to believe that he was so angry so recently. The speed with which he recovers his emotional keel is on the unnerving side. "Humans are not meant to tread in Truth's realm. The core principle of alchemy is 'equivalent exchange.' I'm sure you've heard Ed use the phrase."
"I have," Dave acknowledges, reluctantly lowering his gun.
"It's important to remember that it is equivalent exchange, not equal exchange. Tell me, Agent Rossi." The tone is almost conversational, as if Mustang is merely asking about what Dave thinks the weather might be. "What would you consider equivalent to a human life?"
"Do you seriously think I don't know the value of a life?" Dave remembers Ed asking in a low growl. "I know better than anyone what a life is worth—"
"Would it be an arm and a leg?" Reid asks. He's lowered his weapon too, but only about halfway, ready to raise it at the slightest provocation.
Mustang tilts his head at him as if considering him. "Good guess. Just a leg though, for Ed."
"And a tongue and eyes and ears?"
"A toll for everyone who passed through the Gate and lived, I assume," Mustang says, feeling along his sleeve. "Maes and Tucker landed here, which leaves…"
"You think Morgan, JJ, and Ed are in your world," Reid finishes.
"But there's only one gate?" Dave challenges.
Mustang rolls his eyes as if he finds Dave tiresome, and Dave has seen Ed make that exact face more times than he can count. He wonders if Ed picked it up from Mustang or if it is the other way around. "I've told you all I can about the Gate, I'm afraid. I don't know that—"
"There were two," Hughes interrupts like he just remembered. "Two doorways."
Sighing, Mustang pinches the bridge of his nose. "I think we have to assume that the others are in Amestris."
"Why?" Reid asks. "Assuming you're correct and you and Ed randomly landed in our world, why wouldn't them getting pulled through land them in a third option?"
"Because if Ed were in another world where alchemy didn't exist, I don't think I'd be able to sense him," Mustang says. "I have to believe that Ed is in a world that has alchemy, and I have to trust that he will figure out how to get everyone back where they belong."
"That's a lot to ask of someone who hasn't used it, in what? The better part of a decade?" Prentiss points out.
Mustang laughs but there's no humor in it. "I know you know Ed is a genius, but believe me when I tell you, if you do not understand alchemy, you cannot understand how much of a genius he is . When he got a good look at my base arrays, he improved on them after about twenty minutes . My mentor spent most of his life devising those arrays, and he was an old man when he died. Ed was able to improve on them and use them in less than half an hour."
"Edward can use your arrays?" Hughes all but squawked, looking disturbed.
"He can," Mustang says, and there's a weight to that confirmation, a grim knowledge that Dave doesn't understand. "He complains about it though. He says it's a pain in the ass and he won't use it unless he absolutely has to."
"I'm surprised you showed him your notes," Hughes replies, looking disappointed.
"I didn't. I destroyed my notes years ago. He was able to work it back from the base arrays."
"The arrays on your gloves," Reid says, looking like something just clicked. "You have the arrays on your gloves so you don't have to do anything as elaborate as the human transmutation array."
"That little circle on your glove did the floor and your clothing?" Dave asks, suspicious. From the way Mustang is talking, arrays are pretty specific, but there's not much in common with the wooden floor and his clothing, much less the pencil holder back at the station.
"No," Mustang says flatly.
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Mustang, what exactly is your area of expertise?" Dave asks. "Ed said earths weren't your expertise. You've implied that this"—he motions broadly to the circle on the floor—"is also not your expertise. Mr. Hughes was surprised by what you could do with the pencil holder. So, please, enlighten us. What is your area of expertise?" Both Mustang's and Hughes's expressions had been growing colder and more closed off as Dave spoke, but the answer doesn't come from either of them.
It comes from Reid. "It's fire," he says, causing both men to whip around to stare at him. "It's the only thing that makes sense. When you argued with Ed, he said he knew fire, and you told him he didn't. That being with you didn't mean he knew fire. And if you specialize in fire, then it explains why you were so upset that Ed had been in one, had run into one. You know exactly what fire can do to people. Ed even told us that you're not our kind of pyromaniac. But fire doesn't spontaneously occur, you need a spark, a catalyst. I assume that's what your gloves are for, why Mr. Hughes was so nervous when you put them on. They not only have the array, they're your ignition source."
Mustang's expression has gone blank, unreadable. It is one of the best poker faces Dave had seen in a long time, so Dave supposes that Reid hit the nail on the head.
Which is more than a little terrifying if he's being honest. Because if Mustang specializes in fire, if he was that upset by the prospect of Ed running into a fire, it makes sense that this man has seen people burn alive.
Is probably responsible for burning people alive.
Hughes sighs. "Roy, they aren't your enemies," he says, sounding weary. "They're Edward's team, right?"
Mustang's jaw tightens, and he asks, "Do I seem so unstable to you?"
"I don't know," Hughes says honestly. "I haven't seen you have mood swings like this since after Ishval."
He takes in a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling, puts his hands together, then presses them to his chest, returning his clothing to the casual teacher's wear he'd been dressed in before. "I'm sorry. I've never been separated from Ed like this, and it has me… off-kilter."
"How did that happen, anyway?" Hughes asks, his own posture relaxing.
"You really want to have that conversation, here? Now?"
Hughes shrugs. "It's doubtful they're going to give us any time alone anytime soon. Might as well."
It's Mustang's turn to sigh. He pauses, clearly picking his words with care. Dave is really getting tired of the secrecy. "He told me he loved me," Mustang finally says, and Dave is nearly floored by how entirely inadequate that supposed "explanation" is.
Hughes nods as if it makes sense. "I should have known he'd be your type. Smarter than you, attractive, and doesn't put up with your bullshit."
"He was sixteen ," Dave feels the need to point out. "What grown man accepts the confession of a sixteen-year-old?"
Mustang and Hughes exchange a look, but they're clearly back on the same page. Hughes scratches his head and says, "I mean, it's legal to marry at sixteen in Amestris, and Edward may have been young, but I wouldn't call him a child." He bows his head, and the light reflects off his glasses, shielding his eyes. "No one who has made the decisions Edward has had to make is a child."
"What was your cost?" Reid asks. Mustang turns to look at him. "You said that Ed's cost was a leg, which begs the question what happened to his arm? And you've gone through, apparently, but there's been no obvious cost to you."
The look on Hughes's face says that's a good point , and he raises an eyebrow at Mustang.
"My sight," he says, soft and sorrowful. "My sight was taken. Ed gave up his arm to get it back."
There's a beat before Prentiss says, "Do you even hear yourself? Going through some interdimensional gate? Sacrificing limbs? Exchanging an arm for sight? How does any of it even make sense ?"
"It doesn't," Reid says, but he sounds like something has made sense to him. "It's entirely arbitrary. But this power, what Ed calls Truth, it's a god-like existence, if not what we generally call God itself." He looks at Mustang. "You just told us that it's equivalent exchange not equal exchange. If Ed has had face-to-face dealings with a fickle, arbitrary, god-like entity, it's no wonder he's so virulently anti-religion. It explains why he's so contemptuous of the idea of a benevolent God. But why his right arm ? Your sight makes sense—I imagine being blind would render your ability to do alchemy effectively almost moot. Why Ed's arm?"
Hughes whistles. "Edward certainly works with a bright team," he comments, sounding both amused and impressed.
"That he does," Mustang agrees, but where Hughes is amused, Mustang is grim and annoyed. He doesn't appreciate Reid pulling him apart so easily. This isn't a man used to being transparent. "It's complicated, and it's not my story to tell. I didn't ask him to, if that's what you want to know. I would never have asked him to. If he'd asked my opinion on it, I'd have told him it wasn't worth it. He didn't, so my sight was restored and he lost his arm again."
"Again?" Dave asks, prodding.
It gets him a cold glare from Mustang, who is clearly past being done with the interrogation. "Since Tucker is dead, you need to focus on finding whoever taught him this. I assure you, alchemy isn't something you can just pick up from books—"
Hughes coughs.
"—Unless you're a true genius," he continues as if he intended that qualifier from the beginning. "Tucker wasn't. Even if he were that kind of brilliant, Ed and I looked. We didn't find any resources in this world that contain anything even close to our alchemy, and believe me, we looked."
"We have a dozen people missing—" Prentiss begins.
"They're dead," Mustang interrupts. "You should focus on finding Tucker's mentor."
Reid puts his gun away. "And how do you know that Tucker didn't just somehow tap into your world?" he asks. "You seem to know him, know who he was, but there's no reason your paths would have crossed here. Which means your familiarity is from your world. Is he another double, like Mr. Hughes?"
Mustang's eyes narrow. "He is. I saw his work, and he didn't have this knowledge. He didn't get here on his own or through some parallel world bleed-through. He had help."
"He may even be close by," Hughes says in a musing tone. "Someone who knew enough of human transmutation to be unwilling to take the risk and incur the toll themselves but was happy to teach someone else?"
Dave feels stupid for a moment. "They'll want to know if it worked. And they would only know—"
"If they were close by," Prentiss finishes, sounding as annoyed with herself as he is with himself.
"The locals are already stretched thin, and with the storm and the hour, going door-to-door just isn't going to be effective," Reid says.
Prentiss sighs, rubbing her forehead. "We'll have Garcia start pulling records of anyone she can. We're going to have to canvas any she can't pull, ourselves."
"As much as I would like to pursue this, I think we could all use some rest," Mustang says with surprising tact.
"He's right," Dave says. "If Mustang is right and the senior citizens are indeed dead, with Tucker Maes dead, there's not much more we can do tonight. If we believe Mustang's theory, then JJ, Morgan, and Ed are beyond our reach as well."
"But how will it look if we just stop looking?" Prentiss asks.
"The storm, terrain, and nightfall have made searching impossible at this time," Reid says. "We can go back to the station and take shifts going through the data we have, trying to figure out where Tucker Maes may have met his mentor and to figure out how that mentor is."
Wheels are turning in Hughes's head, so Dave asks, "Something to share?"
"It's just that… Roy, you said Edward got pulled through this world dealing with a rogue alchemist. Maybe that alchemist got pulled through too? I can't imagine Edward not being able to wrest control of an array from someone else."
Mustang looks thoughtful. "It's not impossible. Maybe the only reason Ed and I landed in the same place is because of our bond. We never found any sign of anyone else coming through, but we didn't really know what to look for, and even now, neither of us are particularly proficient at that sort of research in a computer… Perhaps your Ms. Garcia can assist?"
"Station first," Prentiss says with finality. "We need to set up a schedule, and I don't know about anyone else, but I need coffee."
It was a sentiment they all agreed on.