The stench of rotting, burnt flesh was hard to explain. Some likened it to a bitter, copper-like aroma due to how the blood boiled, others a sulfurous smell; something that only could be compared to rotten eggs. At that moment, Ed couldn't discern what it reminded him out. But even through the hand clamped over his mouth and nose, the smell invaded his senses, causing a wave of nausea in his stomach.

Maria Ross had been burnt to death.

She was unrecognizable. The flames had burned away her hair, which Ed, in some calm and detached state, figured was part of what caused the smell. Her skin had been charred so severely that some of it had crumbled where it lay on the pavement.

In front of him, Mustang stared at him with an expression of boredom. Ed tore his gaze from Ross to stare at his superior, the shock making him unable to form any words. "Hello, Fullmetal," Mustang stated coldly, as if Ed hadn't found him standing over Maria Ross' chard body.

Ed's metal hand balled into a fist, joints creaking with his fury. "What's going on," he finally managed, flashing golden eyes finally meeting Mustang's. "What the hell is going on here, Colonel; explain yourself," Ed snarled. He'd started breathing heavily, mind filled with such rage and betrayal that he didn't even know what to do with himself.

Ed felt an overwhelming sense of desperation to do anything to wipe that look off of Mustang's face. This wasn't the man who'd let him and Al stay over when they'd had no other place to stay, who would hold him close when Ed woke up screaming and sobbing from a nightmare, finding Mustang asleep in a chair next to his bed the next morning. This couldn't be the same person. Ed wouldn't believe it; refused to.

"Why did you kill her? What did she even do to result in you murdering her in cold blood, Mustang? Tell me, damn it!" His heart pounded in his chest. His mind screamed for Mustang to give him a reasonable answer.

Mustang rolled his eyes, making to turn around and abandon the badly charred body. "I had my orders. She murdered Hughes and was a dangerous criminal. I was told to shoot to kill if she resisted. She resisted."

Ed snapped.

One moment he was standing in front of Ross' charred body; the next, his automail yanked the material of Mustang's uniform taut. He snarled in Mustang's face. "You bastard, you lied about Hughes' death and then murdered his supposed killer in cold blood? She was innocent. You're a murderer! He wouldn't have wanted this!"

The next few moments were a blur. Mustang's indifferent expression filled with anger, and he made a low sound. One moment he had a solid grip on Mustang's uniform; the next, a fist cracked against his jaw, snapping his neck to the right. The punch threw him to the ground, causing his head to crack on the concrete.

Stars flashed before Ed's eyes, and he was momentarily stunned. A copper tang filled his mouth, and he spat the blood out with disgust. Above him, Mustang stared down at him from a few feet away. The older man took a deep, stressed breath and looked as if he was trying to calm himself.

Ed was too stunned by the man's actions even to move. His jaw throbbed; he was going to have a hell of a bruise in the morning. But the ache in his jaw couldn't even come close to the sharp pang in his heart. Ed felt heat behind his eyes.

"You hit me." His voice sounded small. God , Mustang had hit him. The bastard took a step forward. Ed flinched back, trembling. There was a flash of undeterminable emotion in Mustang's stygian eyes before they hardened.

"You dare lay a hand on a commanding officer? Know your place, Fullmetal." Mustang growled with an air of disgust. The man smoothed his collar of any creases.

"You lied to me." A sob bubbled in Ed's throat, tears pooling in his eyes. "You lied to me and didn't tell me that one of my friends was murdered , and then you go and kill one of the only people I've ever really trusted."

Mustang pulled back his lips; teeth gritted before he was interrupted by the loud cry of "Brother!" The loud, clanging steps of Alphonse echoed off the walls before Ed felt his presence behind him, kneeling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Brother, are you一" Al gasped from a nonexistent throat.

"He killed Maria Ross, Al." Ed noticed distantly that his voice was dull.

Mustang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I apologize for not telling either of you about Hughes. I thought it would do nothing but hinder the both of you, and for that, I am sorry."

Ed jumped to his feet, and he would've punched the man in the face if Al hadn't been holding him back. He struggled and snarled curses in threats at Mustang. The man took them without the blink of an eye.

"I hate you, you bastard. You knew! You knew that Hughes was my friend, you lying bastard!"

Mustang had turned, approaching the MPs at the entrance.

Ed's knees collapsed underneath him, and Al allowed him to crumble. A gloved hand covered his trembling lips, muffling the mournful sob that finally tore its way from his throat. His face was wet, but he didn't care.

With a broken sob, he realized he'd been right. A bastard like Mustang only cared about himself. The Mustang he knew was gone. The Mustang he knew was gone.

One thing that night became clear that night to Ed: they were alone. There were no adults to look up to, nobody to protect them, and now that the final adult had left them, they were truly alone.

Ed cried until he fell asleep in Al's arms.

It was 3 AM when Alphonse was jolted out of his stupor by a loud banging on the door. It ceased for a moment before continuing. With an exhausted sigh, Al stood up and opened the door. He wasn't surprised to see who was behind the door. Winry's tear-streaked face stared up at him.

"Win一"

"He's gone," Her voice cracked. "Mr. Hughes is dead." Winry sobbed into her hand. Al drew Winry inside, pulling her into a hug. He rested his massive helmet on her head, forcing himself not to hold her tighter as her sobs grew heavier.

After what felt like hours, Winry withdrew from his arms, wiping her face. "Where's Ed?" She asked. Winry knew how much Ed had cared about Hughes, remembering how once, Ed had referred to Hughes jokingly as real dad and Colonel Mustang as the uncle.

"He's in the bedroom. Listen Winry. . . he cried himself to sleep."

"What happened?" Winry gasped. In all of her years with the two boys, she'd only seen Ed cry once that entire time.

"Colonel Mustang. . .he killed Maria Ross." Al's voice cracked, and he would've been crying if he could.

"Why did he kill her?"

"He. . .He said that Ross had killed Hughes. But she couldn't have, Winry! She was the kindest and sweetest person I'd ever met, and Colonel Mustang. . . he was so cold, Winry. I've never seen him that cold," Al cracked.

His metal limbs trembled. Oh, how he wanted to cry. The heart Al didn't have had broken while his brother cried in his arms, wailing out his heartbreak at the loss of Hughes, the colonel, and the woman they'd grown to care about deeply. The colonel wasn't dead, yet some part of Al felt that the man they knew was gone.

Al just sighed and shook his head. He hadn't forgotten that the colonel was suffering as well. Hughes had been his best friend, and he couldn't imagine what he was going through. If Ed had died that day in the basement. . . well一that was a different situation altogether, and he would rather not think about how that day could've turned out so differently, with his brother dead, and himself all alone in a metal body.

So, yeah, Al had a pretty good idea how the colonel was suffering, but that in no way made it alright for the colonel to kill someone without a trial or an explanation.

Al was angry. He could feel it, boiling beneath the surface, ready to explode at a moment's notice. The suit of armor wondered if this is how his brother felt when he first encountered the colonel.

Winry shook her head, rewrapping her arms around his body. The anger in him dissipated for the moment, and all that was left was overwhelming grief. Flashes of Hughes and Ross appeared in his mind, every moment they shared, every time they had taken care of them.

"I'm sorry; this was all our fault," Al cried.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Light flooded Ed's closed eyelids. The blond groaned, stuffing his head under his pillow. His head pounded, pulsing every few seconds behind his eyes before stopping for a moment and starting again.

The night before flashed in his vision, and Ed groaned. He didn't want to remember what happened; how Mustang had turned into someone he didn't even know right before his eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of reporting to his superior now. Ed would never see the man again if he had it his way.

Part of Ed wanted to try to understand why Mustang had done what he'd done, but there was so much that didn't logically add up. How had Ross resisted? Was she scared when she came across Mustang? Ross barely even knew Hughes, let alone the fact that she'd only met the man after Ed's hospital stay after lab five. Hughes had been nothing but cordial to her, even going as far as to tell her that she didn't even need to use his title.

So, either she'd been falsely accused and Mustang, in revenge, murdered her, or Ross, for no reason, murdered Hughes, and Mustang killed her before she got to serve the rest of her life behind bars. Either way, a person's life and had been taken away with a woman having no way to defend herself.

And Ed couldn't find any part of himself willing to forgive Roy Mustang, at least not for a very, very long time. He pulled his head from under the pillow, facing the window. The early morning sunlight felt warm on his face, but it did nothing to dissipate the cloudy emotions in his head.

He knew that it was more than likely that Mustang would summon him in the next few days, mocking him while Ed stared down at his feet, unable to bear the cold look in his eyes. Before he'd grown close to the man, Ed had refused to acknowledge that he craved the colonel's approval. Still, he knew everyone could tell, when his chest would swell after a compliment, how he only pretended to hate how Mustang would playfully ruffle his hair.

Now, there would be no more praise, no more playful hair ruffles, no more staying over when there was nowhere else to go, nobody to hold him while he sobbed after a nightmare, no more anything. Ed's eyes burned. He should've never grown close to Mustang, to anyone on his team.

You play with fire, you get burned, and he was burned badly.

He was so, so stupid. Why did he even allow himself to let his guard down in the first place?He sighed, wiping his hand over his face and brushing away stray tears. He sniffed; see, this is precisely why he didn't trust anyone.

What would he and Al do now? He couldn't very well stay under Mustang's command; the man would only prevent him from getting Al's body, he'd try一

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He sat up, wiping the tiredness out of his eyes. His cheek ached, and he poked his face, wincing at the twinge of pain. "Come in," he said quietly, voice rough and hoarse.

The door opened, Winry walking in quietly before closing the door behind her. Her eyes were red, and Ed could tell that she'd been crying. Shame filled him; Hughes' death had been because of him, and for that reason, Winry's crying was because of him. He hated when she cried.

Winry plopped down beside him, wrapping shaking arms around his waist and hiding her head in his shoulder. She took a shaky, sighing breath. "Al told you?" Ed couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.

Winry shook her head against him. Ed's heart fell. "From Miss. Gracia; we talked." Ed's heart constricted, and he swallowed heavily. A shaky sigh fell from his lips, and he rested his chin on her head.

"Nobody told me that life would be this hard," Ed mumbledagainst Winry's hair. Of course, he knew that life would get so much more complicated when he joined the military, but losing three people he cared about within the same month - hell, on the same day in the case of Ross and Mustang - just wasn't fair.

Winry wrapped an arm around Ed's neck to brush fingers through his loose hair. She loved to do it when they were younger, and it always lulled Ed into a sense of calmness. "What are you going to do now?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

He knew he couldn't stay under Mustang's command. The man more than likely hated him. Ed did cause his best friend's death, after all. He can't leave the military either, as he and Al were nowhere near close to getting Al's body back.

"I'm. . .going to have to transfer commands." Winry looked at him worriedly. "There's no way I'm working under him, Winry. Not after. . ." Ed stopped and breathed, forcing down the tears that attempted to make a reappearance.

Winry sighed softly, burying her face in his neck. "It's going to be ok, Ed." She said it like she was sure, like Mustang had never killed Ross and Hughes hadn't died, and he realized that it made him feel a little better.

Ed grunted, letting the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Winry's calloused fingers continued to card through his hair. He'd never tell her, but Winry was. . .well, he couldn't even explain it. A knock on the door grabbed their attention, and then Al pushed his way into the room.

"There's someone on the phone for you, Winry," he said. She nodded and left to take the call. Al's metallic body slumped, and he made his way to the bed and down beside Ed.

"The lieutenant called this morning," Al said after a moment.

The blond rolled his eyes. "So that's how it's gonna be, is it?"

Al grunted. Ed shifted closer to his brother, laying his head on the cool metal. To anyone else, this would've looked uncomfortable, but Ed had gotten used to this. "I think I know what we should do. About the colonel, that is."

Al urged him to continue with a noise of affirmation. "I just. . .I can't trust him, Al. He was the last person I would've thought would. . .you know," Ed murmured. "All those times before were me trying to get on his nerves. I didn't hate him, but now. . .I just can't."

Ed lowered his head, eyes training on the floor. Al loved Mustang's team; it was something the brothers talked about often. Ed liked them, but there were times he'd see Havoc staring at him with a strange expression or Breda staring hard at his automail. The blond never knew how to feel after receiving those looks, but they were working on getting Al's body back, and he refused to be the reason Al was being torn away from people that he'd grown to care deeply about over the years.

Ed swallowed the lump down in his throat. "I'm willing to put up with the bastard if you're happy where we are, Al. I don't want to force you away from the team. You like them, and I can't bear to see you upset that we'd be leaving them."

"Brother. . ." Al's voice was filled with awe. "I wouldn't want you to be miserable. I love Mustang's team, but. . . I'm having a hard time forgiving him, myself."

Ed lifted his head to look at his brother, a small smile on his lips. "That's a first." Al was one of the most forgiving people he had ever met. Al hadn't even held a grudge against him for losing his body to the human transmutation.

Al sighed. "I don't understand why Colonel Mustang killed her. I can't think of anything. Usually, he has a reason for the things he does, but I just can't think of one, or wrap my mind around it."

"If I transfer, there's always the chance of what that new CO will do. What if we can't trust them? What if they take one look at you and try to figure you out?"

"There's always going to be people like that, Brother. I can put up with it if it means that you feel safer."

"But we're getting your body back." Ed pointed out

"I can't bear the idea of you not feeling safe," Al murmured in a hushed tone. It was so quiet, something Ed was more than likely not supposed to hear. The blond's heart filled with warmth. Nothing compared to the support of his little brother.

Ed knocked an automail hand against Al's arm. "Have I ever told you how I wouldn't survive without you?" The blond smirked.

Al snorted. "Quite a bit. In fact, I remember that you did on our last mission." There was a mischievous smile in Al's voice.

"Shut up," Ed growled, but there was no real heat. "That was only because you saved my ass from certain doom."

"Certain doom, Brother? I didn't realize we lived in the dark ages."

"You little. . ." Ed jumped to his feet, teeth bared into a playful snarl. He was about to punch Al's helmet off when there was a knock on the door, and Winry pushed the door open.

She stopped in the entrance, taking in the hand that gripped Al's helmet and gauntlet on Ed's chest that held him back. She sighed, shaking her head. Idiots, the both of them.

"That was Garfiel. The shop is swamped. My work is so good that his customers only want me to fix their automail," Winry chuckled.

Al gasped. "Looks like people are finally learning how amazing you are, Winry!"

"Yeah. I told him I'd be back soon, but I don't want to leave the two of y'all. Not when y'all are figuring it all out."

"We'll be fine, Winry. We'll figure it out." Tears swam in Winry's eyes, but she wiped them away quickly.

"Well, I should start getting packed then."

"I can help you," Al offered. Winry shook her head.

"It's alright; the two of you need to figure out how to move forward. I imagine you're visiting him later today?"

"Yeah, I don't know what I'm going to say to him. I'd much rather beat him up than anything." Ed scowled. There was so much the blond wanted to do the colonel; beating him up was at the front of his list, but Ed knew there was no way he'd be able to get away with it. It would only end in a court-martial, something he couldn't afford.

Al and Winry sighed. "What?" Ed barked, giving them both a confused look.

Winry sighed again, a smile curling onto her exhausted features. "When will you learn that beating people up is not a solution for everything, Edward."

"Hey! It's gotten me this far, hasn't it?" Ed protested, face forming into a pout.

A chuckle escaped Al. "Whatever you say, Brother. I have to help Winry pack. In the meantime, try to figure out what you'd like to say to the colonel."

Winry and Al escaped the room before Ed could protest. He rolled his eyes at his childhood friend and brother. It wasn't a shock that they made him feel a little bit better.

Roy had screwed up badly this time. He tapped his foot against the desk, glancing every so often at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes before his fiery subordinate would be here.

He cringed as he remembered his first connecting with Fullmetal's jaw, the way he hit the ground, laying stunned for a few minutes. He tried to forget the look of hurt in those fierce golden eyes, the tears that spilled down his face as he had screamed at him.

Fullmetal had gotten there at the worst time imaginable; why he had even shown up at all was confusing. Roy had been sure that his intelligence had mentioned that they were both still down south. From their location in Rush Valley, there shouldn't have been any time for them to make it.

Roy shook his head, shoving the newly completed document into the pile of completed pages. Fullmet一Edward's (when had he started calling him Edward?) bruised and betrayed expression dashed before his eyes once again, and Roy hissed.

He'd hit him. He'd hit his fifteen-year-old subordinate that he'd grown to care about as if he were his son. It had been entirely uncalled for, but Ed hadn't let up. The boy knew nothing about his relationship with Hughes; he didn't know how much his death was eating away at him, tearing him apart from the inside out. It had been a moment of blind rage, a response to the boy's snarlings and screamings.

He'd never wanted to take back something more. Take away the bruise, the hurt, the look of betrayal that he'd hoped he'd never have to see on that face. But it had happened, and no amount of wishing would take it back. No amount of praying to a higher power that he didn't believe in would make Edward forgive him. If he knew anything, Ed was forgiving, but he'd 'killed' someone he'd cared about and punched him. There was no telling what was going on in that boy's mind.

Roy groaned, resting his forehead rest on his desk. There was no taking back anything now. He couldn't very well tell Edward that Ross was alive; it would only put her in danger and distract him from his quest to get his brother's body back. If it meant Edward got Alphonse's body back quicker, then he could live with it.

"Sir!"

His head shot up, eyes blinking owlishly at the annoyed expression of Hawkeye in front of him. He cleared his throat, "Yes, Lieutenant?

"Did you get all of the paperwork done from what happened last night?" she inquired, her tawny eyes scanning the pile of papers on the corner of his desk.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I did." He stood, smoothing the wrinkles on his uniform. He brushed his fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down. He couldn't seem like he'd just been asleep and woken up. That would look very unprofessional.

"Were you sleeping, Sir?" Hawkeye asked after a moment.

Roy winced, avoiding her gaze. "Yes, Lieutenant. I didn't get much sleep last night." It was more like zero sleep. He'd been unable to stop seeing Edward's face, and the lingering scent of burnt flesh would send him into nightmares of Ishval whenever he tried to sleep. All around an unpleasant experience. Riza tended to threaten him with violence if he fell asleep without getting a certain amount of work down. 0/10, he wouldn't try again.

Hawkeye's expression momentarily softened before returning to her regular blank face. She sighed. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" she inquired.

Roy nodded, "Permission granted."

Hawkeye nodded, stacking the papers into a neat pile and lining them up. "There was nothing you could've prepared for differently. It is true; he showed up much too early, but there was no way of knowing where he was.

"I punched him, Hawkeye," Roy growled, digging his hands into his eyes. "I punched him in the face and all because he was challenging me. I should've had more control than that."

"Roy, Maes was your best friend. It's a very fresh wound. It will hurt, and I agree, you should've used more control, but your limits are not where they usually are, Sir."

"But that gives me the right to hit him?" Roy snarled.

Hawkeye's expression hardened. "No, Sir, it does not. There will be consequences from that, I'm sure."

Roy sucked in a sharp breath, "What if he hates me, Hawkeye?"

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Then you have to live with it and accept that there's no going back."

Ed's heartbeat out of his chest. His palm sweated, and he could feel beads of sweat on his forehead. This was it; he was about to talk to the bastard, something he really didn't want to have to do. It didn't show, but Ed was terrified.

The blond took a deep breath and opened the office door. Surprisingly, the office was empty of anyone but Hawkeye. She looked up, and Ed winced at the superficial smile on her face.

"He's in his office, Edward." He could feel her eyes on him as he walked into Mustang's inner office, and another pair of eyes fell on him once he shut the door.

He took a seat on the couch; Ed met Mustang's gaze, heart sinking at the blank look in the man's eyes. Flashes of the previous night raced in his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

Now, as he faced the man, a million things popped up in his head, a million things he wanted to tell him, the betrayal, the hurt, all of it.

He sighed, opening and closing his mouth before landing on the thought he wanted to say most" "I trusted you." He heard Mustang shift, but he continued. "I trusted you for five years against my better judgment. People told me, 'Oh, he's loyal to a fault, and you can trust him,' but why would I trust someone who murdered someone in cold blood and didn't even tell me that one of my close friends just died."

Oh god, his hands were shaking, and his eyes were burning. He desperately wanted to get through this without crying. Mustang would think he was weak if he cried. He took a shuddering breath and pressed his fingers to his eyes.

"Fullー"

"Shut up," Ed thundered, "I am not finished talking."

Mustang's mouth snapped shut.

"You knew how much I cared about Hughes, yet you didn't tell me of his death. Why?" Ed demanded.

"It would've stopped your journey. You need to be looking for Alphonse's body. The two of you can't let anything stop you."

"That doesn't change the fact that you lied, Colonel!" Ed exploded, breathing heavily. "I cared about him! I cared so much! The man annoyed the hell out of me, but I wouldn't have traded any of that for the world. The only person who ever really cared about me in the military, and he's dead, and it's your fault!"

Ed regretted those words the moment they came out of his mouth, but he was angry, and he needed to vent, so he didn't care if he hurt Mustang. The man deserved it, so it didn't matter that he saw an incredible amount of hurt flash over the man's face. He deserved it.

"Fullmetal I一"

"And then you go and hit me," Ed interrupted in a low voice. "You were so angry that I had stopped you that you hit me, and you didn't care." Ed's voice cracked, tears now spilling down his face.

"How do you think it feels to have the last person alive that you trust lie to you and then hit you. Not great, huh? But no , you don't care. All that matters to you is your comfortable little promotion and a chance to get complimented by your superiors. You don't care about us; you've never cared . You only cared when I was doing my job and not wrecking things and making your life miserable. You never gave a damn about me those times I opened myself up to you, and, hell, I'm sure you're waiting to use that against me."

Tears were pouring down Ed's cheeks, he sounded hysterical to himself, and he was hysterical if the horrified look on Mustang's face was anything to go by. "What? No defense? Nothing to prove me wrong, to tell me that I'm greatly mistaken?"

Ed pulled a packet out of his coat pocket, throwing it on Mustang's desk. A snarl bubbled in his throat. The man in front of him stared at him wide-eyed like he hadn't been the one who made the last few years of his life a living hell. Ed wanted to punch the man until his flesh fist was bruised and bloody, but he refused to give the man the satisfaction.

Ed was waiting for the man to start laughing, reveal it had been a game in which he'd used Ed as a pawn in moving up the ranks. It would make it so easy to hate the man, not to regret the decision he was making. However, he was sure that anyone would be a better commanding officer than Mustang at this point. He was willing to bet his entire salary.

"T-This is a transfer order?" Mustang dared to look shocked. How pathetic.

"You can read, can't you?" Ed spat. He balled his fists, glaring daggers at the man's face. He dared Mustang to challenge him after what he'd done.

Mustang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I don't hate you, Fullmetal." He said it in a resigned, pathetic sort of way. It only made Ed angrier.

"But if it gives you peace of mind. I will sign it." Ed watched as Mustang scribbled his signature on the paper.

Ed snatched the form back. He would submit it first thing in the morning.

"I wish you well, Fullmetal." Mustang's voice was quiet, oddly sad, but the man was an actor, so Ed didn't pay attention to it.

"Screw you, Mustang." Ed opened the door and closed it with a hard slam. He crossed the office in only a few steps and walked quickly down the corridor before making his way into the bathroom. Ed slid to the floor and sobbed.