Chapter Forty-Nine

"Sir," Riza began reproachfully as she saw the massive stack of files destined to be redistributed, "did you even properly read through them?"

Well, he had his own, but he sat back in his chair and turned his head just enough to bring Edward into view. Feigning reflection on the matter, he quirked an eyebrow at the ghost in humored question. He didn't doubt that Edward had been helping him properly, after all, he'd been alerted to several matters already thanks to the ghost's careful perusing. Yet he didn't want to speak for his unseen assistant.

Edward caught Roy's gaze and gave a quiet laugh, "nothing else seemed odd save for the ones I already had you double check. You're fine."

Roy couldn't help the smile that flashed onto his face, and turning back to face Riza he waved a hand idly. "Everything's in order. I know which lines I signed on." And as her expression shifted into something containing less suspicion, he leveled a chiding look on her. "Seriously, I've been so much better about administrative tasks since we got here. You still doubt me? I thought you supported me wanting to become Fuhrer, and that's going to come with far more paperwork than I'll ever see as I am now."

Riza caught herself, rethinking the words that she'd been about to say as she studied her superior. "It's that you have been, when in all respects, I can't understand why. Yes, you say it's because we're finally back in Central," and she narrowed her eyes somewhat as she continued to puzzle over the man before her, "but I know that you're not telling the whole truth."

Roy didn't respond, merely quirked an eyebrow at her.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Riza shook her head. "Whatever else it is, will it be enough to keep you like this when you become Fuhrer? Because I support you, I do. But – "

"He's more than enough." Roy interrupted calmly, but firmly all the same, and as her eyes widened in shock, he offered her a small smile. "You at least deserve to know that much. Dreams, objectives, they come and go as they're either obtained or forgotten. And somewhere along the way the purpose that drove you to them is lost. I won't lost my purpose in this, even once I'm Fuhrer. Because if it means I can continue to protect him… I'll do anything."

Edward didn't see Riza's reaction to Roy's words, he was too busy staring at the man in shock.

For several long moments Riza was lost for words, before finally finding her voice again. "Your secret informant?"

Roy's smile widened momentarily before nodding his head in easy agreement. "So don't worry, I'm not about to do anything to screw this up. Especially not on something as basic as paperwork."

Riza eyed Roy closely in that moment, her friend hadn't said as much, but she could read between the lines; Roy loved whoever it was that was helping him behind the scenes. And suddenly, she knew with a cold certainty that Roy wouldn't be stopped. Not unless he died in the effort. She'd seen him in battle before, and if she were entirely honest with herself, the first time she'd seen Roy fight, it had been terrifying. She'd never admit it of course, least of all to him. But if Roy was about to go into this fight, fighting for someone he loved…

"Was there anything else? Or did you just come to bother me?" Roy redirected her smoothly, as much as he was enjoying the emotions flitting through her eyes as her face remained in an expression of stunned silence.

Riza shook herself out of her thoughts, and the icy tendrils of dread they wrapped about her, leaving her to only pray that when everything came to a head, it would be away from the public. And his words had reminded her of her original purpose, and the course paper of the small package she carried in her left hand. "This came for you." She abruptly thrust the package out to him. "And I'll send off the files you've already done."

Roy had no sooner accepted the package from her than she was gathering the files into her arms and striding off for the office door, yet he called after her as she reached it. "Riza," and as she turned to look back at him, he offered her a bracing smile, "thank you."

Riza watched him a moment longer, before giving a quick nod of her head and ducking out of the office with the files balanced precariously in her arms.

"I knew part of your reason for doing this became me," Edward said softly as the door eased shut behind Riza, "but it always surprises me… you surprise me."

"Do I?" Roy asked with a huff of laughter as he looked over at the silvery apparition that floated at his side cross-legged.

"I didn't think you'd tell her it was partly because of me. To keep me safe."

Roy leaned back in his chair, the package having been set on his desk. "She would have learned eventually from Maes, and you're something I'd rather tell them about myself, and not have them hear through my office's version of telephone."

"When will you tell them about me? Completely?" Edward asked then, not hesitating a second in the asking as his brows drew together in the beginnings of a frown. "The more information, the more confirmation they get from you about me… they're going to try and find me. How do you think it's going to make you look when they can find no evidence that I exist?"

"That you're fucking brilliant at covert ops." Roy suggested reasonably, and smiled, before his expression turned more serious. "You still want me to tell them about you?"

Edward let out a slow breath as he directed his gaze more to the package resting innocently on Roy's desk. "I have nothing against it, you know that… but I also know you're selfish. I won't force your hand in this. I know how protective you are of me, of your time with me. I know you want me all to yourself," and here he snorted, "which is ridiculous, because I don't want to be with anyone else. I'm just worried about your relationship with your friends, with your team, if you continue to hide me away."

Roy tipped his head back where it rested against his chair, directing his gaze to the ceiling panels above them. "What I said before, to my mother, about not wanting to be like what keeps you caged… that stands true with them as well." And his eyes fell shut as a slow breath escaped him, a steadying one. "I don't think it will ever be easy for me… but know that I'm not under the illusion that I'll be able to keep you secret forever. I know the time will come I'll have to tell them, it's the when that I can't seem to decide."

"I wasn't aware that the last time you tried to wait it out went so well." Edward remarked dryly. "What with your mother overhearing you yelling at me in the backyard. Definitely doesn't make you seem insane."

"Shut up." Roy half-laughed, but mostly tried to sound annoyed at the reminder.

A grin flashed across Edward's face, "just think on maybe telling them once we've dealt with Grand?"

Roy didn't answer, but he didn't say no, either, and sitting up straight again his gaze fell on the neatly wrapped brown package on his desk. It looked innocuous enough. Course brown paper wrapped around a standard sized postal box, but it was the label that made him frown at it.

His name stared up at him in thick black ink.

Just his name. Nothing else.

"What is it?" Edward asked as he watched Roy stare at the package on the desk, his own gaze soon following. Roy wasn't looking at it with the eagerness he commonly would associate with receiving a package in the post. Nor was he looking at it with confusion, or even suspicion. It was more calculating than all that, a quiet sort of calculation that set Edward on edge.

Roy's mouth drew into a thin line as he reached forward to turn the package over in order to access the taped edges of the brown wrappings. "We're about to see."

The paper was torn away, leaving just a plain white box with the lid taped shut to it. A quick slit of a pen across the tape and Roy was easing the lid off of the contents inside.

He would have preferred it was a bomb.

Roy stared down at the small object in the box as an icy clench settled around his stomach, and his gaze hardened with the first tremor of anger that snaked down his spine.

"What is it?" Edward repeated, now with confusion and a healthy dose of wariness at the look in Roy's dark eyes.

Roy swallowed as he slowly replaced the lid onto the box, before tucking it carefully into his uniform shirt up against his chest. "Better than a postcard." He replied in a deceptively even tone as his anger began to steel along his spine, as defiant, protective instinct grew to a deafening beat of his heart as it acknowledged the adrenaline fine tuning his senses. "We need to leave. Now."

Edward startled back in the air as Roy swiftly stood from his chair. "Roy, what the fuck is – "

Roy glanced once at Edward as he rounded his desk, not pausing as he strode purposefully for the door. "Come now, or I'm leaving you behind."

"Not on your life." It took Edward all of two seconds to be at the man's side once more.

Roy shot Edward an indecipherable look and was out his office door where he quickly turned a pointed look on Riza who looked up with minor surprise at his sudden appearance. He didn't give her the opportunity to settle from it, and knowing it would alarm Edward, there was no way he knew to code this so the ghost wouldn't become alarmed. "Sniper rifle. Go. Now."

Riza didn't hesitate, even for the fraction of a moment her eyes widened in surprise. Yet even that moment was spent with her pushing back from her desk and holstering her handgun before she was whirling from the room at a clipped pace.

"Fuery," Roy's gaze fixed on his subordinate even as he moved to follow Riza out, "crash the coms in and out of HQ. Give me gridlock, I don't want the Fuhrer getting anywhere fast should he leave."

"Sir!" Fuery agreed with a snappy salute, before whirling in his desk chair to launch it into a swift roll over to the cabinet against the far wall, where only then did he stand up and whip the doors open to begin grabbing the equipment he'd need.

"Stay!" Roy ordered the rest with a pointed look before striding from his office complex decisively.

Havoc watched as Kain darted from the room whistling a cheery tune while gripping tight to the handle of his personal tool box, and turned his gaze to Falman and Breda who were staring after their comrades with varying looks of unrest and shock. "Two hundred on it being collateral damage of three city blocks."

In the hallway, as Roy marched his way down it scattering everyone in his path without having to do more than look at them, Edward finally managed to grasp onto some of the words stuttering through his brain. And if his voice was a little higher than he'd remembered it being, it could only be Roy's fault.

"Seriously! What the fuck is going on?" Edward demanded, his eyes casting down to Roy's chest where he could see the slight bulge of the box that had clearly set the man off. "You told Riza to get a sniper rifle!"

Roy cast an apologetic look towards Edward, giving a subtle shake of his head.

Edward groaned aloud, swore several phrases that actually made Roy's eyes widen comically, and worried a hand into his hair. "I swear, Roy, this 'only you can see and hear me' thing is going to be the death of you one day. And don't you doubt it, because I'll be the one killing you."

Roy found himself smiling at the threat, smiling at the scowl he earned.

It took far longer than Edward was happy with for them to get outside, yet only once they had passed out of Headquarter's main gates and were ducking down the nearest unused alleyway did Roy explain.

"Hopefully Riza won't need to shoot." Roy began even as he quickened his pace now that he was no longer in any view of any of the high windows of Headquarters. "But if I get in a tight spot, she will, and she won't miss. I have no intention of dying on you, but if something should happen to me, I trust her to finish the job and keep everyone safe."

"And just who, exactly," Edward replied in a voice tight with worry, "is she supposed to be shooting, should you fail? You know whoever it is that sent you that box. What is that thing, anyway?"

Roy cast a dark look Edward's way, "I'm surprised you don't know." Looking back to his path, as he wove his way towards the nearest large park that was still in view of the highest buildings of Central, so that Riza could spot him from any of them easily. Fortunately also knowing it would be relatively empty at this time of day, yet he let out a weary breath that had nothing to do with the pace he was setting. "Fact remains is that you're going to get your wish sooner than you thought. You get to see me fight, and not hold back."

Edward found it hard to ignore the wave of unease that filtered through him. He'd known that Roy would have to, eventually, but all the same, perhaps naively, he'd thought this moment wouldn't come until Roy and Grand finally stopped their orbiting and crashed into each other.

Roy caught the expression on Edward's face, and while he wanted nothing more than to erase the clear anxiety, he knew there was nothing he could say or do to achieve that and still achieve what needed to be done. "I am sorry." He offered out carefully.

Edward looked at him sharply, still trying to shore up his apprehension about this whole affair. "I don't want an apology. I don't want you to worry about me." Because if the way Roy reacted was any clue, whoever he was intending to fight wasn't any common alchemist. This wasn't some common challenge.

This was personal. By an alchemist talented enough to cause Roy to make a contingency plan.

"All the same," Roy began hesitantly at first, his heart faltering as he stared ahead, not really seeing the path he walked. "If I die, I want you to go home and take Hazel. Find the train we took before and ride it until you get to where my mother lives. She'll figure out how to get you what you need."

Edward growled, anger spiking through him, and lunging forward he whirled around to stop dead in the air in front of Roy, causing the man to stumble to a rapid halt.

"Edw – "

"Shut up!" Edward snarled at him, silver eyes flashing. "How many times, how many ways do I have to tell you that I fucking need you! So don't you dare die on me, because I'll take your precious squirrel and give him to Elysia! Let her dress him in ribbons and bows and little frilly hats!"

Roy was fairly certain that his jaw had dropped.

"Do you understand, Roy Mustang?" Edward demanded, hands firmly on his hips as he stared the man down.

"Y-yes." Roy managed after a long moment in which Edward's eyes narrowed dangerously at him.

"Good." It was little more than a hiss, and then Edward was turning back around and continuing to float off the direction that Roy had been heading them in.

Roy blinked twice, owlishly, before slowly a fond smile began to cross his lips as warmth began to tendril about his chest. Quickly he stepped forward, jogging several paces to catch up with the ghost, "is it bad that I kind of enjoyed you yelling at me?"

Edward sent him a sidelong scowl. "Keep it in your pants, Mustang. I doubt this is a measuring contest you're intending to partake in."

Roy snorted despite the seriousness of the situation he was about to partake in. He wasn't sure if it was bad or good that Edward had this sway over his emotions right before an alchemy match of likely life and death, but he could no more consider sending the ghost from his side, than he could attempt to lose him. No matter what outcome, he wanted Edward beside him.

Edward cast him another searching, worried look, before averting his gaze. "So what is that thing? Why does it mean you have to fight?"

"You'll have your answers soon enough, I expect." Roy replied quietly, and was grateful when Edward didn't press the subject. He was only minutes away now, and he could afford no distractions. Not even that of the one he loved – especially him.

As they reached the park he'd been aiming for, Roy felt the predatory shift snap into place within him. In an instant he found himself reverting to the feral creature instincts that had kept him alive during the war. The once racing, adrenaline-suffused staccato beat of his heart had become flat-lined in comparison. All senses on alert and fine tuned, his breath barely moving his chest, the increased thrum of his pulse dulled in his ears. As he led them both further in, but not so far as to become shielded by the cover of trees, he waited – pure hunter.

Edward hovered uncertainly next to Roy, his quick eyes scanning the quiet park as he forced himself to remain silent. He might know nothing of battles such as Roy was clearly getting ready to engage in, but he knew enough to understand that right now, his silence was absolutely imperative. More than anything, he didn't want to lose Roy, and that meant that unless absolutely necessary, he shouldn't break the man's focus. Although, as he cast a quick look the man's way, he was beginning to honestly doubt that anything could break the intensity of focus being exhibited.

The moment the man came within range, Roy knew. Yet he reacted only to turn and wait, his gaze hard, and his hands at his sides still with focus.

Edward noticed the abrupt change, and quickly pivoted in midair, before floating backwards a pace and landing so that he was off to Roy's side, slightly behind him. Enough that he knew he'd remain in Roy's peripheral senses, but not far back enough so as to cause him worry as to his location. For all he believed Roy would, and could, remain focused, he wanted to do nothing to potentially hinder that.

Though he would be lying if he said he wasn't on his own guard, watching a singular man in a blindingly white suit approach. Silence stretching to even the birds of the park, as the future storm came ever closer.

Kimblee wasn't exactly in any hurry, but nor was he dawdling as he languidly made his way over to where Roy Mustang stood. And as he came within several yards of the man, tipped his fedora off his head with the tip of one finger to begin twirling it idly as he swept an assessing look over the State Alchemist he hadn't seen since the war – not that he'd exactly have accepted prison pen pal letters from the man, he'd never considered them remotely friendly. Still, it was interesting to see the change. Where he'd last seen a young State Alchemist once untried by life and war and suffering the consequences of experiencing it, here before him stood a man who'd accepted and adapted from the experiences of both – enough that it lit an eager spark within him.

"Interesting prison onesie you've got there. I didn't realize the guards loved it on you enough to have it tailored." Roy offered out in greeting.

Kimblee threw him a smirk. "I never was a fan of the tattoo removal forced upon me, so I daresay they adored me when I shanked my own hands so I could make their chests explode. It added some color to the place, all that grey stone gets so dreary."

Edward's eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly as he cast an uncertain look at Roy. This psychopath was who Roy was intending to fight?

Roy quirked an eyebrow at the information. "Bit desperate much? Have you ever tried masturbation? Might achieve the same result for you, less body count."

Kimblee shot him a reproachful look, and slowly he turned sideways to the man, beginning a slow and easy prowling walk in intention of circling him. All the while twirling his fedora absently. "Became a bit hard when they put me in a straight jacket or my hands in little stockades."

"Had I known I'd have gotten the old group together, and we would have come down to celebrate and sign our names on the cast." Roy informed him blandly, easing his position slowly around as Kimblee moved, knowing better than to give the man any potential opening for a quick blind spot.

Kimblee snickered just a bit at that, "and I'd have told the lot of you to fuck off." And he turned his attention back to Mustang with a hint of mocking disappointment. "Got my post a lot later than I was expecting. I actually had time for lunch."

"I'll let you know when I start caring that you believe I've in any way inconvenienced you, Kimblee." Roy told him in a frank tone. "Since when do the prison guards let you go eat lunch with innocent civilians?"

"Innocent?" Kimblee didn't have to fake a surprised look, nor the one of disappointment that then crossed his face. "Mustang, Mustang, Mustang! No one is innocent, I thought you'd have known such simple truths." Yet he waved his free hand dismissively, "and the prison guards don't let me do anything, any more. New day, new lease on life, new suit," and he shot a predatory look Roy's way, "new target."

"You just gained release this morning, and you're already throwing down a gauntlet to me?" Roy questioned the sense of it, "but then, you were always overeager to spill a warpath."

"What sense is there in prolonging inevitable fate?" Kimblee queried back lightly, still twirling his fedora idly on one slender finger as he continued his idle, elegant prowl around his target.

Roy snorted derisively, "I just never pegged you as a poster boy for Bradley's commands."

Kimblee shot a grin Mustang's way, giving a slight shrug to his shoulders and tipping his head back unconcernedly to stare up at the cirrus sky. "You know, Flame, I'd be after your blood even without an offer to take it." And he stopped his prowling to half-turn and give his once-colleague a disgusted look he might give to a suit not bespoke. "I did all I was asked and more, happily, willingly. Even slaughtered some of the little animals in their sleep as a mercy, and what is my commendation? Prison." He tipped his head back with an ill-humored laugh before focusing in on Roy once more with hawkish observation. "While you get labeled a hero, and the country either fears or falls at your feet. You… who showed weakness."

"Valuing the lives of others is not a weakness, Solf." Roy replied quietly, but he knew he was heard by the flicker of irritation that crossed the man's face briefly.

"Life is expendable." Kimblee informed him somberly, his expression almost pitying as he began his circling prowl once more. "Life comes and goes, it's a constant. When a fire burns down a forest, does it not regrow? What never will regrow, though, is the plague that was once there. Life will have been reformed for the better."

Roy's eyes narrowed ominously, anger licking at the walls of composure that were meant kept his mind unclouded, focused. "The only plague of humanity that has ever merited being annihilated, is the Fuhrer. Ever since he took power there's been nothing but war and genocide."

"I'm no more his screaming fangirl than you are." Kimblee smirked, then shuddered reflexively at the mere idea and gave a lilting laugh. "Hopefully he's smart enough to realize that releasing me signed not only your death warrant, but his own. I do love a good fight, and you're a delicious warm up routine, old friend."

"We were never friends." Roy pointed out, though he supposed they both knew it the truth without it being said.

"Really?" Kimblee shot him a disappointed look, his face pulling in distaste. "I line up that beautiful little pun about a warm up, and you focus on the obvious? Fuck, Flame! You've gotten dull!"

"I daresay I've heard all the temperature puns before, Crimson. You'll forgive me if I don't shower you with admiration, I might go in for a slow clap though." Roy deadpanned.

Kimblee gave a sardonic eye roll. "I'll save you the trouble. Can't have you hurting your hands with all that enthusiasm, else you'll be even more useless than you are in the rain."

Roy didn't feel the need to reward that with more of a response than the unimpressed stare he was already leveling. Instead, he pulled free the box that had rested against his chest, noting how Kimblee's eyes darted to it in rapt focus. "You would have been the only one to dare keep one."

"Am I hearing a question?" Kimblee frowned, and gave a dismissive shrug, tearing his gaze away from the box. "I won't bore you with the details, but it turned out to be fairly handy to use as a calling card. I knew you'd get the message properly, so I may have requested a spare from someone who seems to want you dead as violently as I do, and I've got all I need aligned to make this fight memorable."

Roy's eyes narrowed, glittering with dark emotions he dared not put names to, lest they take over his focus. "If you think I'd ever use this accursed thing again, you don't know your opponent as well as you should."

Kimblee halted from his circling, turning to face Roy fully with a grim expression as he popped his fedora back onto his head in a fluid motion. "Then perhaps you're not as worthy an opponent as I had hoped you'd have become. No matter," he brought his hands up to casually slip free the silk gloves that hid the rough alchemy circles now scarred into his flesh, "I will still enjoy taking from you what was rightfully to be mine."

Roy's sharp gaze didn't leave Kimblee for a moment, even as his body tensed. "Edward," he began in sudden need, "get to the sidewalk and don't leave it. Now!"

Edward shot a torn expression Roy's way, as loathe to leave the man's side as he was to be in Roy's way, even if only visually. But fear for Roy's life soon had him obeying the command, darting for the sidewalk even as he felt the air tear around him in an unearthly shriek of shockwaves.

And as he turned with wide, anxious eyes back to the battle, it felt his body had turned to lead as his fear choked at his throat. All he could see after this first, initial clash of testing the other's strength, was shredded earth and scorching flames within a haze of smoke. Whoever the hell this Kimblee was, Roy hadn't lied... there would be no holding back.

Already after this first attack, Edward could hear distant screams of what people had been nearby running for cover, and he absently wished them speed. He could hear the squeals of car tires of vehicles that had aptly decided a change of streets was beyond essential. And he found himself hoping that through all this smoky chaos, Riza's aim would remain true, should it come to that.

Yet a second attack did not immediately follow, and Edward found himself waiting with cold nervousness until the smoke cleared enough that he could ascertain why.

Kimblee was staring down indignantly at what remained of his fedora, his once pristine white suit a deep charcoal grey and singed through over large portions, exposing angry red skin already beginning to blister.

Roy had fared little better, a deep gash along his arm from shielding his face, several less severe cuts along his face, legs, and torso. Yet his uniform remained free of burns, his gloves yet intact, and he met Kimblee's calculating gaze across the distance still separating them. "You came into battle against me without a flame-retardant monkey suit? That ridiculous hat of yours deserved what it got. Now stand still, and I'll do the same to your head."

Edward missed whatever it was Kimblee snarled back, he was too overcome with near-hysterical relief at Roy's sheer brilliance with clothing. He was never teasing the man again about how horrible the uniform slacks looked – ever. He wasn't sure what genius Roy had hired to work such magic, but he was fairly certain that were he in possession of the ability to touch others, he'd kiss the tailor right now.

However, as a telltale snap of fingers and the ominous echo of hands clapping together, Edward found his attention abruptly stolen.

A veritable cyclone of fire shot upwards with an earth-quaking roar just in time to clash into a purplish-white bolt of energy not unlike lightning, that upon impacting the fiery cyclone, exploded outwards and forced the fire back in an engulfing blast and a deafening shriek. The smoke poured outwards, lined with embers and static pulses of light all the way to where Edward stood frozen on the sidewalk.

Because as he watched the fiery glows and brilliant flashes of light, and listened to the howls and shrieks of the air as it was ripped apart with incomparable force, he was realizing, quite suddenly, that something was very, very wrong.

He knew alchemy, had done alchemy that many alchemists could only dream of comprehending or aspiring to. He'd sacrificed himself because of it. And what he was seeing now, in the engulfing infernos and fiery blasts that were vanishing trees to ash and smoke as they were snapped into existence, was a level of power, a level of control with alchemy that left him with no uncertainties that Roy was frighteningly, awe-inspiringly deadly.

But he also knew alchemy twisted and violent, impure and not of true nature. He'd seen it. Felt it. And what he was seeing in the purplish-white snakes of lightning that met Roy's explosions without fail, was wholly unnatural. Kimblee had warped it, somehow, to the extent that Edward could see that Roy was only able to purely defend.

"Fuck this." Edward swore softly, his eyes darting from the battle with sudden hard purpose, searching out anything, anything he could do to get Roy an opening. He wasn't about to stay on the sidelines while the man who had freed him, given him his afterlife, loved him, could only defend.

He'd seek forgiveness later.

He found his idea further down along the street, alongside the curb.

Not sure he'd ever flown so fast in the entirety of his death, Edward phased through the top of the car and immediately began digging for the wires he needed with a sarcastic smirk. "I knew reading car engineering manuals while Roy slept would come in handy." He muttered, and within seconds the engine was sputtering to life before settling on an idle chugging purr of a noise.

And drawing upon the driving experience he'd gotten sitting between Roy's legs during their bumper car venture, he shifted the vehicle into drive and hit the accelerator while steering it up and over the curb, aiming to where he could see the light of Kimblee's attacks beginning.

From through the smoke cloaking their clash, Kimblee only saw the oncoming car seconds before it would reach him, and darted backwards, but not quick enough to keep it from clipping his leg and sending him flipping uncontrollably through the air.

Roy's eyes widened as he saw through the momentary part in the smoke the car whiz past, Edward in the driver's seat, and deciding that he'd scold the ghost later, he wasted no time in snapping to life another attack just before Kimblee would have hit the ground. This time, it hit without interference.

Kimblee screamed, before the flames robbed his throat of his voice, the fire surrounding him, eating at him with feral greed even as the explosion half of Roy's attack blasted through his body. Blood ran down his ears as the interiors burst, only to be burned away by the fire digging through skin. His femur, fractured by the car, was pushed back through muscle by the shockwaves.

And yet… he was not done.

His teeth bared, lipless, but for the moment, and his burning hand grasped for the titanium chain still about his neck, scorching him. Searching towards the end until he grasped cool, smooth stone.

Roy threw himself to the ground for cover as the immediate area around Kimblee exploded outwards with haunting crimson light. And before the last of the smaller debris had finished falling, he was quickly regaining his feet, watching with an icy pit in his stomach as what smoke remained after the blast thinned. Enough that he could easily see that the car had ended up in one of the craters, and that a naked Kimblee was picking himself back up off the ground with an angry sneer.

His wounds were healed, and between his fingers the pulse of red light finally began to fade.

"It's not going to be that easy, Mustang." Kimblee snarled, his fingers falling from the stone around his neck. "As long as I have the stone, I can just keep healing myself."

"Then I'll just have to outlast you until you use it up." Roy quipped back, voice coldly level. "I wonder, how long it'll last after a healing of the magnitude I expect you needed. We never did field test that. And that's hardly a brand new sample, Marcoh's rather out of the business, or hadn't you heard?"

Kimblee let out a dismissive huff of breath, "you speak like you will actually live long enough to know. " And he raised his hands palm up to give them brief inspection, before aiming his gaze over the tips of his fingers and to his opponent. "You won't, unless you accept that using the stone I sent you is the only way you'll be able to defeat me."

"I'll let you monopolize the road of least resistance." Roy informed him, his gaze narrowing in focus and threat. "I regret nothing mine has led me to."

"I'll ask you if you still believe that, right before I watch the life leave your eyes." Kimblee promised him solemnly, and waited only a moment after Roy snapped his fingers to bring his hands together. It was becoming tedious, this fight with someone who refused to give him the challenge he wanted. It was time to bring this matter to a close.

From beyond where the car had come to an abrupt halt, Edward was standing, stunned, as he absorbed everything he'd just heard. From what he could now quickly piece together, the Fuhrer had released this man, and set him on Roy with the very objects that had made the man nearly commit suicide. And now Kimblee was fully using that upgrade of power, while Roy still refused.

And it was more than obvious their past together was not amiable.

But something still wasn't right… at least, not entirely. That stone, the way it shaped Kimblee's alchemy wasn't right. True, he had known it wasn't right before he'd realized what it was that was causing it. But this was even more wrong.

He had seen his father do alchemy before. Granted, there hadn't been many times before the man had run off to fix whatever it was he claimed needed fixing, but he'd seen it. He'd never forgotten any alchemy a day in his life or death, and when he recalled his father's alchemy…

His father was a Philosopher's Stone. Living. Breathing. And the alchemy he created had never once looked anything but pure. This was something twisted and evil, and he shivered internally.

Inside the sea of choking smoke Roy had redoubled his efforts with moderate success.

Kimblee was fast, yes; even for a man once confined purely to a prison cell. And while his alchemy power was being enhanced by the counterfeit philosopher's stone, Kimblee could only attack with both hands.

Snapping his fingers on both hands was something Roy had long mastered.

He'd wear that stone down, void it's power, and then he'd burn the life from Kimblee.

Blast after blast of exploding, raging fire met each one of Kimblee's attacks, only to have a second chase it before the man could react, and slowly, ever so slowly, he was driving the man into a defensive circle. And as he managed to force Kimblee to circle all the way around to where the car still remained, he couldn't help but smirk as he watched Edward open the lid to the gas tank chamber.

Edward whistled innocently as he quickly darted away, seeing that Roy had noticed his idea.

Roy waited until he was once again able to attack with one snap of his fingers, holding Kimblee's attention on fending off the explosion his other hand was creating. Watched with stony vindication as the car exploded into molten shrapnel, slicing into Kimblee from behind.

Yet he wasn't free of the blast by pure virtue of causing it, and he grunted low in his chest as he felt several metal shards he'd not noticed hurtling his way dig deep into his calf and forearm. He counted his blessings that they were deep, because the blood flow was being stemmed by their presence, and he was losing enough blood as it was already. His left sleeve was darkened black, sticky and wet, the glove on his hand impossible to make out the alchemy array stitched there.

Shaking his head quickly to center his vision he watched as Kimblee glowed in red light, working on picking himself up from the ground once more. The blast had likely sent metal skewering very important areas, and he could only find himself glad of it. The more he could force Kimblee to heal himself, the quicker that philosopher's stone would disintegrate.

He attacked again, before Kimblee was finished healing himself. There was no time, nor room, in a battle of this nature for such chivalry.

Out of the way of the explosions of fire, Edward had come to something of a halt in midair.

He'd given Roy another opportunity to wear the stone down, and the man had taken it. Yet instinct was telling him it wouldn't be near enough. This may not be a true philosopher's stone, but if his father was any guide to judge a counterfeit by…

His eyes darted to where Roy had lunged into another attack, closing the distance, increasing the force of the blasts.

The man was bleeding, heavily, though his sharp consideration could detect no weakness stemming from it. Yet something deep inside him faltered even so, tightening his throat in anxiety. Adrenaline was likely the only reason Roy wasn't faltering, and that frightened him.

Forcing his gaze away, he searched out the origin of Kimblee's attacks once more. There had to be something he could do to tip the scales to Roy's favor, there had to be – else, what use was there in being the genius he was! If he could still do alchemy, even Kimblee, enhanced as he was, would be hard-pressed to overpower him. But that option had long set sail when he'd gained a ghostly existence.

He had no power in this world. No alchemy. The only thing he could ever affect was –

Edward's thoughts screeched to a tumbling halt as his eyes shot wide. But of course… that was it!

"Let's see you cheat your way out of this one." He hissed icily, and darted back into the wailing, smoky exploding chaos of fire and impure lightning-reminiscent flashes.

Within seconds he found his target, and whirling around behind Kimblee, grabbed the titanium chain in a rigid grip and pulled.

Kimblee let out a strangled noise of surprise, finding himself falling backwards, stumbling in the same direction to try and keep his feet as the chain that held the philosopher's stone about his neck dug mercilessly into his throat.

Edward snarled as he saw Roy had stopped attacking, and was staring at him in wide-eyed shock and panic, and maybe a hint of comprehension. "Don't fucking stop, Roy! You can't hurt me!"

"We're having a long talk about what staying on the fucking sidewalk means!" Roy shot back at him, perhaps just a bit hysterically.

"Oh do shut up!" Edward snapped back at him, giving another hard yank to keep Kimblee stumbling backwards as he silently pleaded for the chain to give way, to become as incorporeal as himself. "This will hardly take long, and – Roy!"

Roy saw it before Edward screamed the warning, saw Kimblee give up trying to claw the chain away and bring his hands together. Clearly banking on Roy not attacking when there was apparently a comrade just behind him... but Edward was right. And as much as he hated to accept it, he couldn't hurt Edward.

His flames would never touch the ghost.

He snapped.

Edward fell back through the air long before the echo of the snap faded to his waiting ears, the chain and its stone fading through Kimblee's body and into his whole possession. He hit the ground just as the two attacks met with a resounding crash and an outward blast.

He watched with wide eyes as the outward thrusting force of the shockwaves moved as a visible flickering wave of fire to slice trees in half, and slam light posts to the earth. He felt it move through him, yet not in any physical sense, it was something eerie, unsettling, and he shuddered at the sensation. Until this battle, he'd never felt the air such as he had… and that was an unsettling thought in itself.

Yet he pushed himself up from the ground as it slowly began to sink in.

This was what Roy was capable of. This level of utter destructive annihilation. Without Kimblee's attacks able to be bolstered, Roy had not only managed to hold off the attack Kimblee had clapped to life, he'd sent it crashing back on itself and its owner like a tidal wave.

Edward shivered reflexively, and slowly he stepped the few paces that had remained separating he and Kimblee, to look down to where the man lay sprawled on the grass with his limbs contorted around and underneath him. To where the still-glowing burns all but covered his naked body as smoke curled from the wounds.

"I knew he couldn't be so strong." Roy spoke as he approached with a clear staggering limp, his breathing unsteady, heavy and suffusing his voice. "Those scars he carved into himself were hardly perfect, low power generation comparatively to his old skills. Never been more grateful for tattoo removal, he was a terror with perfect arrays."

Edward looked up at him shakily, "and what now? He's not dead."

"No." Roy agreed simply, hunching unconsciously in on himself as he peered down at the nude, burn-riddled form of an unconscious Kimblee. "Not yet."

"Why not yet?" Edward echoed disbelievingly.

Roy shot Edward a pacifying look, before glancing down to the chain that still dangled from the ghost's fingers and with a pained grimace, reached into his torn uniform to pull free the box that still rested inside it. "Because, if he came from where I think he must have, he's going to sing like a bird once I'm through with him."

Edward wasted no time in throwing the impure philosopher's stone into the box with the other one, watching with an ill look as Roy closed the box and tucked it back away. "That alchemy… it's all wrong."

"I know." Roy's tone was heavy with remorseful nostalgia, and raised his gaze back to Edward, "I want you to look away, Edward."

Edward glared at him heatedly. "Do you seriously believe that you could do anything to him right now that would make me feel even the slightest sympathy? He wanted to kill you! Was trying to kill you! And without my help, I'm sorry, but you'd still be fighting! I think I've earned the right to be your equal in this, Roy!"

Roy opened his mouth a few times, searching for the right words, before he finally gave in under the unmoving weight of Edward's stare. Closing his mouth one final time, he gave a slight nod and raised his hand once more.

Though Kimblee remained unconscious, an eerie scream escaped his lips as he thrashed violently on the charred earth as his hands exploded into nothingness, the amputations sealed shut near instantaneously by the heat of the flames Roy bore into being.

"There," Roy breathed a rattling sigh of relief, his posture slumping in on itself as the extent of his own injuries and the blood loss that stemmed from them began to make themselves known as the adrenaline began to subside without the immediate threat of danger.

"You took away his ability for alchemy." Edward whispered in a voice laced with understanding, and regret – but not for Kimblee, for himself, and the feelings it stirred within him about his own absent skills. The very thing that had saved him from drowning in depression when his father had left, that had kept his mother happy… that had taken his life, in the end. And he wondered, had he managed to live, but live without ever possessing the ability to perform alchemy again, how would he feel?

"He's harmless, now." Roy finished, his eyes searching Edward's expression carefully as the ghost still remained staring down at the man lying there defeated and nearly-dead in the dirt. There was something odd in Edward's voice, in the way he looked down at Kimblee, and he had just opened his mouth to ask after it when a sudden wave of dizziness spiked through him.

"Roy!" Edward was by the man's side before he'd even truly registered moving, kneeling next to him as Roy hunched doubled-over on his knees, his hand pressing to the deep gash in his left arm that now spilled blood in a steady, thin stream down the whole of his hand. Frantically, Edward poured through everything his mother had ever told him or done when he'd gotten injured, before he quickly snapped his fingers in Roy's face to demand focus. "Jacket off, now!"

Roy groaned out a miserable chuckle, giving a shake to his bleary head as he removed his hand in order to begin peeling off his uniform jacket in answer to the ghost's orders. "Never pictured this as the moment you'd be telling me to take my clothes off."

Edward scowled at him, as Roy gave a few chuckling huffs of laughter that sounded ragged and weary. "Do as I say, or you may never have the scenario you were hoping for."

That seemed to have given adequate incentive, and Roy managed to peel the blood-soaked jacket off to reveal his likewise stained once-white shirt underneath.

"Give." Edward snatched the jacket from Roy's hands and quickly, deftly, ripped one of the sleeves off as Roy made a subtle noise of indignant protest. He ignored the man, binding the sleeve around the deep gash with a swift efficiency that left him surprised at himself and his lack of panic.

Piece by piece, strip by strip, Edward tore and shredded the uniform jacket to bind the cuts on Roy's body as he absently heard the wail of sirens begin to sound over the silence that had stretched just after the battle's finale. The ones that still had pieces of metal inside, he left for the moment – the metal was doing an adequate job of staunching the blood flow, and given the woozy way that Roy had begun circling about as he knelt sitting back on his heels, the man needed all the help he could get.

Roy blinked down hazily at Edward's handiwork, giving only another passing mournful thought for his ruined uniform, before focusing in on the ghost's worried face with a squint. "Sexiest nurse I've ever had."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Edward found himself darting his gaze about in a flustered attempt to not have to look at the loving way Roy was gazing at him with. "Shut up, Mustang."

"Yes, dear." Roy answered amiably.

Anything Edward might have said in return quickly fled his mind as the abrupt squealing of tires, followed by a rather impressive crunch of metal against sidewalk jerked his attention away.

A black military-issue sedan bore down upon them so swiftly neither had time to react, before it swung wide of them to squeal to an earth-showering stop just behind where Roy knelt. The door was thrown open, and Edward felt the sudden fear and need to defend Roy that had shot to brilliant life within him slip away into relieved gratitude as Maes practically tumbled out of the car and straight into a run to Roy's side.

"We've gotta move." Maes insisted hurriedly, taking quick enough inventory to see that Roy, while in danger, it wasn't immediate. Then he was reaching to take Roy under both arms to haul him back to his feet where he wrapped a firm arm about his best friend's waist.

"Don't forget my wife." Roy implored through the head-rush of such a quick ascent back to his feet, before blinking with eyelids that felt far too heavy for his face. "Life?" No, not the right word either.

Edward was equal parts torn between indignation and embarrassment, and perhaps a slight flicker of humor as well. "I'm not leaving you, Roy." He promised instead, slipping into the passenger seat of the car as Maes dumped Roy as carefully as possible across the backseat. "Just please, keep your eyes open. I'll stay with you the whole way if you do. Can you promise me that?"

Roy met Edward's silvery gaze through a haze of want to slip into unconsciousness, and the worry there settled deep into his heart as he attempted to nod.

"Your wife, huh?" Maes rolled his eyes and opened the boot of the car before running to grab Kimblee's naked and mangled form and toss him unceremoniously into the space before slamming the lid shut. "You're worse off than I thought." He muttered in concern to himself before hurrying back to the driver's side door and getting in, slamming the door shut even as he pressed the accelerator firmly to the floorboard.

The car pealed out of the park, and down off the sidewalk with several crashing thumps that Maes was sure would void any warranty on the shocks – luckily the garage had no idea who'd swiped it amidst the chaos that had befallen Central Headquarters when all the tech went down and the city came to a screeching, grid-locked halt.

By the time the emergency aid vehicles arrived, the military sedan had careened around a far corner.