Roy wasn't quite awake, but he knew a dream when he saw one.

His hands were reaching for Riza, pulling her from the cab of the truck. He didn't remember it crashing, but here it was, upside down against a tree, beaten and shattered like a broken toy.

A bullet struck the frame and Roy shouted something, but he didn't know what or how.

And dream or no, he suddenly felt like he wasn't alone here in his body. He felt a presence, something hot and energetic that wasn't him at all, and with a burst of sheer panic, he rushed forward, the sensation like waking up after a falling nightmare to catch himself, but the memory was too real and too vivid and he wasn't sure if he had imagined it all or not.

But here he was, standing on a slope with an unconscious Riza in his throbbing arms, a crutch—crutch?—supporting him, and a bullet whistling past his head.

And there was Hallucination-Ed, sprawled in the grass in a heap of mismatched limbs and a burning fear in his voice. "What are you doing?!"

What was he doing? He had absolutely no idea.

"Run,you idiot!"

Oh, yes.

So, with his body aching, and his heart racing and Riza thrown over his shoulder, he hobbled deeper into the trees, ducking behind a stand of aspens until their pursuer temporarily stopped in his onslaught with a crackle of alchemy.

Roy didn't know if the two were related, but he wasn't about to stop to find out. Readjusting Riza's dead—no, not dead, don't say dead—weight, he stumbled forward toward the darkness.

XxXxX

Ed gathered himself and raced back up the slope, because if he didn't do something, Mustang was going to die and take Hawkeye along with him.

Stupid, idiotic, insufferablecolonel.

A half-dozen useless alchemy circles flew through his mind by reflex, but none of those were going to do him any good unless he found a body to possess, and judging by the way Mustang kept kicking him out, he wasn't sure if he'd last in their assailant's body very long.

Still, it wasn't like he had many options at the moment.

He would have maybe one shot at this, and then Mustang and Hawkeye were on their own and very screwed.

He crested the hill, not hesitating in the slightest as he hurled himself forward, running headlong into the would-be assassin like a runaway train.

With one flying leap, he was in the man's body.

Being inside this man was different than possessing Mustang. Where Mustang was fire and pain, this man had a murky, almost poisonous feel to him, like the scum around a pond. Again, the center of gravity was higher than Ed was used to, but the only discomfort Ed could pick up on was a throbbing in his left shoulder. Perhaps Mustang had hit him the night before?

It didn't matter, because Ed didn't have time. He dropped the rifle, clapped his hands and threw them to the ground, bringing a wall of stone up and around himself, encircling his body like a small fortress. The goal was to completely incapacitate him and give Mustang and Hawkeye time to escape.

A familiar spike of alarm, and Ed was out before the transmutation could be completed, thrown right through the half-formed wall with a familiar sizzle of pain.

Ed picked himself up off the ground in time to see the shadowed man stare at the incomplete wall, expression a mixture of fear and confusion. It was almost up to his chest, it's walls thick but flaking from the interruption and not nearly high enough to keep him contained.

Ed glanced back down to the broken truck below and his broken comrades just beyond. Mustang had passed the tree line, but was not nearly deep enough in. Once the assassin had a chance to collect himself, it would be all over.

Ed jumped at the man again.

He had control for almost a whole second before he was back sprawled on the ground.

"What . . .?"the assassin gasped, eyes wide and a shiver racking his body, gaze casting about for a cause but unable to see Ed, just like everyone else. Which was a bit frustrating if Ed stopped to think about it, which he didn't.

With another shudder, the man picked up his rifle.

Maybe Ed should have destroyed thatfirst.

The man spared another glance around him before leveling the weapon against the wall Ed had so conveniently provided.

Hot fear coiled in Ed's stomach.

They were going to die, and Ed couldn't do a thing.

No, if he timed this right, maybe he could throw the man's aim. It wouldn't work forever, but it was something.

"Mustang, down!"Ed screamed, more out of reflex than any certainty he'd be heard.

But several dozen yards below, Mustang dove behind a tree anyway.

Ed didn't have time to consider it. He turned back around.

Just in time to see several hundred pounds of steel armor barrel into the stone wall and into the back of their very surprised attacker.

"Alphonse!"

Alphonse didn't react to Ed's shout. He picked up the man like he weighed nothing, tossing him over the crumbling remains of the wall, one gauntleted hand ripping the rifle from the man's grip and crushing it into wooden splinters and crumpled metal.

The assassin was on his feet in an instant, drawing a long, curved blade from his side and striking out. Alphonse blocked the blow easily, the blade screeching off of his forearm, drawing a shower of sparks and a gash in the metal.

Al swung one huge fist, fierce and unhesitating. The blow caught the man in the chest with an audible crack, sending him flying. He landed on the ground with a pained grunt, curling in on his side, hand cradling his ribs.

He stayed down.

"Who are you?" Alphonse asked, voice flat and hard and sharp as razor wire. It didn't sound like Ed's baby brother at all.

The man gritted his teeth and glared up at him. "Are you working with Mustang?"

With only an expressionless suit of armor to work with, Ed wasn't sure of the exact sentiment behind the venom in Alphonse's response. "No,"he spat. "Who are you?"

The man seemed to consider his options for a moment, until Al took a threatening step forward. "My name is Victor. I'm just a hired gun."

"Hired by who?"

Again, Victor paused, frozen blue eyes narrowing. "I don't know. That's part of the deal. The contractor remains anonymous."

Alphonse brought a heavy gauntlet down on the man's gut.

"Al!"Ed shouted, "What are you doing?!"This wasn't like Alphonse. Not at all. Al didn't kick people when they were down, assassin or no.

Victor cried out, coughing and sputtering through the pain.

"That's not good enough," Al said, voice as warm as Briggs. "Who are you working for?"

Victor panted for a moment. "I . . . I was hired . . . by a woman. That's . . . all I can tell you."

Alphonse raised his fist again.

A pale hand stopped him.

Al froze, turning to see the Colonel, beaten and bloody, standing next to him.

Mustang stared up at him, eyes dark but gentle, imploring.

"Alphonse," he said softly.

For a long, tense moment, Ed was afraid that Al was going to hit Mustang.

Then, Al lowered his fist, rusted metal creaking, and took a step back.

Mustang sighed in what could have been relief, turning to face Victor. If it weren't for the resolve in the clench of his jaw and the calm in his eyes, it would have been hard to take him seriously, the way he swayed on his crutch with blood leaking down his face. "Describe the woman."

Victor regarded Mustang, lips twisted in a snarl of contempt and pain. "Black hair, black eyes. It was dark when we met."

"Why does she want us dead?"

"I don't know."

Mustang considered this. "Were you working with Michael?"

"Yes."

"Did you shoot Edward Elric?"

Ed and Al both flinched. After the scream of rusted armor, the silence in the cool night air could have been smothering.

Was this the man? Was it this easy? He just had to find his murderer, right? If Victor killed him, he'd be back in his body and properly reunited with his brother before sunrise.

But if he was his killer, then surely Ed would already be back at the Gate by now.

Victor looked like he was considering something, then finally said, "No."

Ed felt his ethereal heart sink in his chest.

Another silence stretched between them. "Anything else?" Mustang finally asked.

Victor shook his head. "That's all I know."

Mustang nodded. "Very well."

Then Mustang raised Hawkeye's pistol and shot him in the head.

The body slumped to the ground with a sick thud. Ed staggered back, knowing it was only his lack of stomach that kept him from throwing up then and there. Though Ed was no stranger to death, he usually didn't witness it so close.

The worst part about it though was the way Alphonse didn't even flinch.

Mustang turned to face Al, pocketing the weapon. "Alphonse," he said, that same gentle tone back, dark eyes softer than Ed had ever seen them. "Are you alright?" Ed got the feeling he wasn't talking about physically.

Al looked at him with expressionless soul-fire eyes. "Yes." Ed had always had a knack for knowing what his brother was thinking, but he was still getting nothing. It was almost like looking at a stranger.

Mustang nodded, not looking convinced. "Where have you been? Hughes has been looking everywhere for you."

"We should get off the road," Al said instead of answering. He turned and started down the hill, leaving Mustang standing alone with Victor's lifeless body and Ed's intangible one.

"What happened to him?" Ed wondered aloud. Surely Ed's . . . well, his death, hadn't done this to him, but what else could it be? "Is this because I died?" he asked, to no one but himself.

Coincidentally, Mustang made a low humming sound in the back of his throat, eyes glued to Victor's corpse. With no small amount of trouble, he lowered himself beside the body, rummaging through his pockets and finding nothing but a lighter, a half-gone pack of cigarettes, a few cenz, and some lint.

"Helpful," Ed muttered, watching Mustang pocket the cenz and the lighter before turning back to watch his little brother. Alphonse finally reached Hawkeye where she was propped behind a tree and was bent down beside her. It looked like he hadn't run proper maintenance on himself in months, his metal body scarred and rusting in places. His loincloth was in shreds, barely hanging on his waist by a thread. His gloved hands had a finger missing and holes worn in the palms.

What had his brother been doing for three months?

"Where has he been?" Ed asked aloud. "Who's been looking out for my little brother?" He had just assumed that Al would be safe. He didn't doubt that East City was in an uproar with Mustang and Ed's disappearance, but that wasn't an excuse. Al was just a kid. How could Mustang's men leave him on his own like this?!

Had Al spent the past three months wondering the countryside? And doing what? Looking for Ed? Looking for Mustang?

Looking for revenge?

No, that wasn't Al. That wasn't his little brother.

But . . . Ed saw the way he'd treated Victor.

Maybe Al had changed. Ed knew loss could drive you to do terrible things. He knew it firsthand.

"I'm sorry."

Ed turned out of reflex, but he knew better than to think Mustang was talking to him. He had his eyes on the corpse below him, having somehow gotten back to his feet. He positioned the crutch under his arm, then headed back down the slope at a snail's pace.

Ed looked at Victor one more time before following.

XxXxX

The walk was awkward, to say the least.

Mustang took point, traveling through the trees along a worn deer trail as quickly as he probably could, which was to say, not very fast. Alphonse trailed behind him, carrying an intermittently-conscious Hawkeye delicately in his arms. Hawkeye was quiet when she was awake—more so than usual—only answering a couple of questions before staring dazedly at the passing scenery and ignoring Mustang and Al all together.

The way Alphonse held her; it was more like the way he'd hold one of the many kittens he liked to pick up. It was the closest to "soft" Ed had seen his brother since his sudden appearance. Ed was worried about Hawkeye of course, but he also had other things on his mind, too.

He had a million questions but no way to ask them, so he settled for studying his brother and trying vainly to read his thoughts through his steel visage.

Mustang wasn't helping either. He had tried talking to Alphonse, but Al only answered in short, clipped sentences, a strange heat bubbling just beneath the surface of his replies. Ed didn't know what to make of it. Was he mad at Mustang? At Hawkeye?

At Ed?

The sudden thought almost made him stop in his tracks.

Did Al blame him for dying? Was this his fault? Because he was careless, because he wasn't looking over his shoulder the way he should have?

Because he left Al alone?

"Alphonse," Mustang said after over an hour of silence.

Al looked up from the ground, his step faltering just a bit.

"What happened after we left East City?"

Al didn't immediately respond, and Ed wasn't sure if he would at all.

"I left," he said finally.

"Why?"

"I had to come see for myself." The reply was as hollow as his armor.

Mustang nodded. "I'm sorry, Alphonse. About Ed."

Ed felt icy claws rake through his insides. "I'm right here!"he said, though he didn't know why. "Don't say things like that! I'm going to come back, you hear me?!"

A small, depreciative smile curled Mustang's lip. If Ed hadn't noticed the self-loathing behind it, he might have been even more furious with him.

"Don't," Al whispered. "Don't talk like he's dead."

The smile turned down at the corners. "Alphonse . . . we saw him go into the river."

"I said stop!"Al snarled, but the rest of his response came out more broken, more halting. "There's no body, so you don't know that. . . you don't know that he's not here!"

"I'm right here, Al!" Ed said, reflexively trying to grab his little brother's steel forearm only to have his hands pass through like smoke. He gritted his teeth, helplessness combined with frustration warring for dominance and just making him feel sick instead. Al was hurting and he couldn't do anything about it.

Mustang stopped in the trail, forcing Al to stop behind him. He turned around, onyx eyes clouded with pain and pity. Ed wanted to slap the look off his face. "Alphonse, is that what you've been doing all this time? Looking for your brother?"

"Leave him alone!" Ed snapped. He couldn't bear to watch Mustang trample his little brother's heart more than it was, especially when he was so wrong. Ed was right here.

"There's no body," Al answered feebly, voice hushed and strained, broken in ways that were palpable, like daggers to Ed's chest.

Mustang grimaced. "If he were alive, don't you think he would have turned up by now?"

"We're not having this conversation right now." The command was more of a threat than anything, like a hiss from a cornered animal. "We need to get Lieutenant Hawkeye to a doctor."

"The longer you resist it, the more painful it's going to be," Mustang replied softly, eyes filled with an intimate knowing Ed wasn't sure how to interpret, but it raised his temper all the same. "It will haunt you for the rest of your life."

Ed placed himself right between them instinctively and pointed a metal finger in the older man's face. "I'll show youhaunting,"he hissed. This wasn't what Al needed right now. How darehe tell Ed's little brother what to think? What right did he have?! "Back off!" The fact that anything Ed said was a complete waste of breath did nothing to dispel the hot anger pulsing in his throat.

"It's best if you just accept it," Mustang whispered.

"If you think you can just manipulate Al into believing your crap, you've lost your mind!"

Mustang looked at Ed.

He lookedat Ed.

Mustang locked his tired, bloodshot eyes on Ed's and Ed stopped breathing.

"And why else would I be seeing the dead?"

Weirdest reality check ever xD

I mean, he'd have to be pretty beat to admit out-loud that he sees dead people.

In other news, Ed's going to be so very ticked when he finds out he's been ignored all this time xD Can you imagine?!

OKAY, so I passed my comps exam! I have two evenings of class left this semester, one final, and then one more semester with one class and then I'm DONE with grad school. Can I get an amen?! Can I get a Hallelujah?! I'm so emotionally done with homework and life and I can't even lol. Someone buy this lady coffee. And a puppy.

Other news, I've started collecting houseplants like a nerd. I'm up to thirty and someone should probably intervene, but, like, it brings me some small bit of happiness, so I'm going to keep going until I'm drowning in plants #goals. I also started an outdoor garden for the second year in a row. Apparently, I can grow tomatoes and zucchini and everything else my hand touches turns to dust xD I mean, my flowerbeds look pretty dang good if I do say so myself, but vegetables are a struggle. The irony here? I hate tomatoes. It's a texture thing. I mean, they're great in sauces and ketchup, but by themselves, eww. Just eww.

This is a sign I don't update enough: I'm rambling in my A/Ns. Did you gather here for talk about plants? No. Did you want to know that I cleaned all my windows the other day and keep staring through them like a dork because I'm so proud of my clean windows? No.

I think all of the above is a sign of being old. I'm going to stop now.

ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! SSB will probably update next because the next chapter is halfway written, but who knows where my muse will take me next. Regardless, thank you so much to you readers and those that review. You seriously don't know how much joy I get from reading those.

Please drop a review if you have the time, and I'll see you next chapter :)

God Bless,

-RainFlame