Roy considered himself a lot of things, but until recent months, he hadn't considered himself crazy.

Now, here in Havoc's tiny living room with everyone staring at him, including the ghostly specter of his youngest subordinate, Roy was fairly certain he was certifiable.

You could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence after his announcement.

"This," Al hissed softly, "is your fault."

The accusation hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking the air from his lungs. That was not the response he was anticipating. "Al," he said, "let me explain—"

Al turned to face him, drawing up to his impressive seven feet. Roy had never been afraid of Al before, a boy so much softer than the metal housing his soul, but now he knew Al could break him without exerting too much effort.

And Roy was afraid.

Al's huge gauntlet grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground before Roy could so much as protest. "Alphonse!" he yelped, hands scrabbling at the boy's impossibly strong grip.

"Al!" Hughes shouted, but Alphonse didn't flinch.

"You were supposed to protect him. I trusted you," Al snarled, giving him a punctuating shake. His hip flared with bright pain. "He trusted you. He hasn't trusted anyone since Mom died, and he trusted you!"

Roy didn't know that. He knew that Ed trusted him, to a minimal extent, but he didn't quite realize how rare that kind of trust was coming from Edward Elric.

But he also wasn't sure he had time to ponder it, because it was very possible that Alphonse was angry enough to kill him.

"Alphonse," he began, hearing an edge of fear in his own voice. "Ed is here. I can prove it."

A harsh, twisting sound seeped from the armor, and it took Roy a long moment to realize that Al was laughing. "I trusted my brother to a lunatic." There was enough self-depreciation in that statement to rival even the most seasoned of war veterans. "That's the funniest part of it all, isn't it?! It was my fault."

The scraping laughter continued, and Al released his grip on Roy's collar. Roy dropped like a sack of potatoes, the impact bending his leg at just an angle to let him appreciate a whole new dimension of pain. He saw white for a few seconds, and it could have just been him, but he thought he heard a scream wrench its way from his throat.

"Mustang!"

Ed's voice was right in his ear.

Roy shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his vision.

"Brace yourself!"

Then Ed slammed into him.

XxXxX

Mustang's body was a terrible place to be.

Breathing through an intense amount of pain, Ed snagged the fallen crutch at his side and scrambled to Mustang's unsteady feet. His leg gave out, sending him crashing into the wall, but he managed to stay upright.

Wow, that hurt.

His little brother was almost back to the front door. "Alphonse!" he shouted, his voice coming out in Mustang's pain-strangled baritone. "Get back here and stop being an idiot!"

Ed didn't expect it to work, but Al stopped. He didn't turn around, though. "You've got a lot of nerve," he growled.

"It's me!" Ed snarled. "Me, Al! And I'll prove it to you if you'll stop being an idiot for two minutes!"

Al did turn around now, his red eyes staring with something between fury and surprise. "You've lost your mind, Mustang."

"I'm not Mustang right now!" Ed screamed, desperation mounting into rage. If Al would just listen. "I'm your brother, and I can prove it to you!"

And with that, he clapped his hands and dropped to the ground. Mustang's hip screamed, but Ed ignored it, pressing his hands to the floor. Blue light blazed, the transmutation activating with the sharp wreak of ozone. He opened his hand, drawing iron from the earth below to form the gaudiest spear imaginable, complete with a gargoyle head and dragon wings decorating the hilt.

When the rest of the energy crackled and died, the room stilled.

They stared at one another.

"I . . . I don't understand," Al whispered.

"Al, I got shot on that bridge, but I made a deal with Truth," Ed explained. "Right now, I'm a soul without a body, but if I can find out who killed me in the next fi— well, four-and-a-half days, I can get my body back."

Al didn't move for several long moments. Then, he took a step toward Ed, then another. Ed looked up at the towering suit of armor, his baby brother.

Al lowered himself before Mustang's body, searching dark eyes that didn't belong to Ed for a trace of deception or truth. "This doesn't make sense. How could . . . if you're Ed, how could you be in the Colonel's body?" Al didn't believe him yet, but the raging anger had given way to doubt, and Ed could work with that.

"It's Truth's idea of a sick joke. This bumbling idiot is the only one that can see me." Ed was pretty sure he felt a flare of irritation coming from Mustang's corner of their shared mind, but he ignored it. "I'm pretty sure I could possess anyone, though, until they kick me out."

He glanced over Mustang's shoulder, spotting Hughes and Havoc just behind him, their eyes wide and jaws slack. "Would you mind if I borrowed your body for a second?" he asked Havoc.

Ed wasn't sure it was possible, but Havoc's eyes widened even further. "W—what?"

"Did I stutter?" Ed growled. "Can I borrow your body? I'll give it right back."

Ed had never been in Mustang's head while he was conscious long enough to have a conversation, but he could have sworn he heard a voice like a loud memory echoing through his head.

Oh, sure, you ask him for permission.

Shut up, he thought back. "Hughes?"

Hughes looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head. "Roy, what's gotten into you?"

"I'm going to choose to interpret that as consent."

Ed hadn't ever left a body on his own accord. He lurched forward, but the motion only took Mustang's body with him. "Um, little help, Mustang?"

With pleasure.

Ed was propelled forward, landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

Roy slumped against the wall, dropping Ed's masterpiece of a spear on the floor with a sharp clank! "And stay out," he muttered.

"I heard that!" Ed snapped back before diving into Hughes.

Ed had possessed exactly two people in his life, Hughes being his third, and if Mustang was fire and pain, then Hughes was a stark contrast. Ed wasn't sure how much of possession was sharing a body or sharing a mind, but Mustang's head had a chaotic feel, a tornado contained in polished glass. Hughes was just glass; solid, methodical, structured.

Hughes was even taller than Mustang, and the height difference had Ed stumbling. The lack of pain was a definite plus, though. Before Hughes could throw him out, Ed clapped his hands, long boney fingers pressing together, then slapped them against the coffee table.

Ed's specialty was metal, but he crafted the wood into a fearsome statue about hip-high, with jagged teeth and angry eyes, wooden hands tipped with claws. It was a nice accent piece in Havoc's boring living room. Despite what anyone said, Ed was an artist, and his work spoke for itself.

"See, Al—," Ed began, but Hughes flared to life in a blaze of panic, and Ed was on the floor once more.

"But I asked permission!" Ed objected, picking himself up and indignantly brushing nonexistent wrinkles from his coat.

Hughes stared around the room wide-eyed, searching until he locked eyes with Mustang. "You were serious!"

Mustang's returning smile was aloof, a sharp contrast to the burning in his eyes.

Ed looked back at Alphonse, willing him to understand, to see him.

Alphonse looked around the room, too, finally glancing to Mustang, then following his gaze to Ed. "Is he . . . like, a ghost?" he whispered. "Is he there?"

Mustang nodded. "Right there."

Alphonse crossed the living room slowly, like he was afraid the ground would give out under his feet. Ed waited for him, letting his little brother come to him, relishing in the feeling of being seen even if it was a false one. Al stopped a little too far to the left, so Ed closed the distance, standing right in front of his brother, lining up with his crimson gaze. "Al, you believe me, right?"

Mustang echoed his words and Al nodded. "I believe you." He reached out a hand, and Ed hesitated only a second before placing his on top. He could just feel the faint tingling of interacting with something solid, but it was enough for him. "Ed . . . I'm sorry, I should have been there," his voice ended in a tearless sob. "This is my fault."

"Shut up, Al, this isn't your fault."

"He said it's not your fault."

"Word for word, Mustang!"

Mustang rolled his eyes. "He prefaced it with 'shut up, Al'."

Al made a choked laughing sound. "That sounds like Ed."

"Now, can we please find out who shot me, so I can get my body back and kick their—"

"Language, Fullmetal," Mustang warned.

Ed turned a baleful eye on his commander. "Now? I'm dead, and you're worried about cleaning up my vocabulary?!"

Mustang ignored him. "He's ready to go find out who, ah, shot him," Mustang explained, wincing as he tried to get to his feet, using the wall to support himself.

Hughes stepped over to help him, his hazel eyes locked in roughly the area Ed was standing in. "Why is everything always a complete freakshow with you two?"

Mustang stumbled hard, Hughes taking almost all of his weight. "Yeah, well," Mustang grunted, the words tight with pain, "All in a day's work for the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed gave a derisive snort.

"Did I really just get possessed?"

"Yep." Mustang drew the word out in a lazy drawl.

"That . . . was the creepiest thing in the world," Hughes said with a shudder. "These things didn't happen to me before I knew you. And Ed?" he called.

"What?" Mustang relayed Ed's unenthusiastic response.

"Stay out of my body."

"Oh, don't worry," Ed said with a grin. "I plan on sticking with Mustang from now on."

Mustang scoffed. "As if."

"I saved your life!" Ed protested.

"After almost getting me shot."

"It's not like I had options!"

"The whole one-sided-conversation-thing is getting creepy, Colonel," Havoc said, and Ed realized he hadn't moved in a while. He was regarding them with an expression some mix between numb acceptance and unequivocally disturbed, his cigarette nothing but ribbons fraying from his lips.

"Are you alright, Havoc?" Hughes asked.

"No," he said. "I am not paid enough for this."

Hughes and Mustang both exchanged a smirk.

"How do we find out who . . . shot Ed?" Alphonse asked, hesitating on the word shot.

Hughes deposited Mustang back on the sofa, and the raven-haired colonel gave him a grateful look. "Okay, so we know that this has something to do with a woman with dark hair and eyes, Lab Five, and a circle of unknown purpose."

"And the homunculi," Ed put in.

Mustang nodded. "Yes, that too."

"Still creepy," Havoc said.

Mustang's onyx eyes slid to meet his. "The homunculi are involved," he relayed. "They seem to be at the center of things of late, if the Elrics know what they're talking about."

Alphonse wasn't nearly as offended as Ed was. "Hey!"

"So, what's the plan?"

All eyes snapped up to Hawkeye. She was leaning heavily against the doorway to Havoc's guest bedroom, arm in a fresh sling, sherry eyes sliding in and out of focus and squinting as if in some pain, but her jaw was set like it wasn't going to stop her. A bandage wound around her pale forehead and sweat glistened from her temple.

Mustang looked torn between being thrilled she was up and telling her to sit down. "Ri-Hawkeye—" he began.

She beat him to any protest he might have made, taking a few shuffling steps to sit on the couch in Ed's old seat.

"Does she know?" Ed asked.

Mustang glanced between them. "How much did you hear?" he asked her.

"Enough to finally have an answer for how inattentive you've been recently."

Ed, Hughes, and Havoc snickered. Al had the common courtesy to look away, back at the space where Ed was, if a few degrees off. And, was it Ed's imagination, or did Mustang turn a shade pinker?

"I have not been inattentive," he growled.

"You've stared off into space more times than I could count for the past two days," she pointed out.

Mustang looked like he wanted to launch some sort of counteroffensive, but came up short of an argument. "Look, he's distracting. See if you can concentrate with him whistling The Fuhrer's March in your ear!"

Oh, yes, Ed was absolutely cackling now. "It's so much better now that I know you could hear me the whole time."

Mustang gave him a dirty look that promised if he wasn't already dead, Mustang would kill him.

Hughes cleared his throat. "Back to business?"

Everyone settled down, Havoc and Hughes taking their seats, Al sitting there on the floor right next to Ed and glancing over every now and again, as if trying to catch sight of him out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay, so homunculi are involved. Do we know what they want?" Hughes asked.

"They said something about Al and I being important sacrifices," Ed said, Mustang repeating with a disturbed look in his eyes.

"Sacrifices for what?" Havoc asked.

"Like I know, they were too busy roughing me up for me to ask questions."

"Maybe we can use that," Al said. He looked at the ground thoughtfully, and Ed didn't like where he thought Al's mind was going. "We know they were in Central. Maybe they still are. Maybe I can lure them out."

"Absolutely not!"

Mustang narrowed his eyes but didn't relay Ed's exclamation. "What did you have in mind?"

"No way, Mustang!" Ed snarled.

"If you couldn't guess, Ed is protesting vehemently," Mustang said with a bland look Ed's way. "Let's hear him out."

Ed started telling Mustang exactly what he thought of the idea, but Alphonse was already talking. "If I'm important for something, that means they won't want to kill me, at least not yet. So, all I'd have to do is go to Central, be seen, then start doing something reckless."

"Alphonse, so help me—"

"Something reckless," Hughes said, tone thoughtful. "Like, say, get in a fight?"

"The flashier the better," Al agreed.

"Colonel, tell him no!"

But Mustang was not listening to Ed at the moment. "That might work."

"No. No, no, no, no, NO!"

Mustang finally looked at him again. "Are you saying you wouldn't do the same for Alphonse?"

"Of course, I would!" Ed said. "But that's my job, not his!"

"Brother," Al said, his crimson gaze directed just a bit too low, which was annoying for so many reasons. "I can't get my body back without you."

Ed's mouth clamped shut.

"So, I'm going to do everything I can to find who did this, so we can get your body back, then mine."

Ed's jaw worked up and down for a few moments.

Al sent an uncertain look Mustang's way. "What's he saying?"

"Absolutely nothing," Mustang supplied, his tone a bit too pleased for Ed's liking. "I think you won this round, Alphonse."

Ed dragged his slightly transparent fingers down his face. "Mustang, if anything happens to my little brother, I will throw your body off of a cliff."

"That's fair," Mustang agreed. "We're on a limited timeframe. We rest tonight, then tomorrow, we gather our men and supplies and leave for Central."

"But I have a date tomorrow," Havoc objected.

Mustang gave him an incredulous look. "Cancel it."

"But . . . she's the most beautiful girl in the world!"

"No offense, but I doubt the most beautiful girl in the world would be going out with you, Jean," Mustang said, like he thought that would be comforting.

Havoc got to his feet with a dejected moan. "I guess I'll go call her," he sulked, dragging himself to the kitchen phone.

"Uh, Ed?"

Ed turned, Hughes sort of looking at him. "You going to do something about that?" he asked, pointing to Havoc's ruined—or upgraded, as Ed liked to think—coffee table.

"Sure, I just need a body," he said to Mustang with a toothy grin.

Mustang scowled. "Don't even think about it."

Look, ANOTHER UPDATE IN A TIMELY MANNER.

Okay, so it has been pointed out to me that I've combined Brotherhood and '03 plots, and that was entirely unintentional. It really doesn't affect the plot all that much, except raising the tension between Ed and Al, which totally works for me lol. But yeah, totally my bad . . . this should reinforce the notion that I have no idea what I'm doing.

But we're going to Central, guys!

I graded 112ish middle school essays this morning and my eyes are bleeding. My responses varied between, "Wow, great essay with some solid points!" to "Did you . . . did you read the instructions? There was a whole paragraph of them, conveniently labeled 'instructions' at the top. Please. Read them."

And then THE QUESTIONS. The questions I get that I. Literally. Answered. In. The. Instructions.

And its . . . it's fine. *deep breath* This is fine.

In other news, I planted my organic happy hippie garden and the cabbages are doing nicely xD The wind hasn't stopped blowing short of 20 mph for the past three days. The sun is out, the dust is blowing, the children are screaming all across the neighborhood every time I open my door. Spring is here. I walked out of my house the other day, and this kid was sitting in my front lawn, so I walked over to make sure he was okay and he was just sitting crosslegged in front of my flower beds with his skateboard and this giant camera and he was all, "I'm just taking pictures of the flowers, ma'am."

And I'm like, "First off, I've only got you by, like, ten years, so I'm not a 'ma'am,' and secondly, I will never chase a child off my property for photographing flowers. Carry on." And then promptly went to fetch myself an arnold palmer to have an excuse to get out of the house.

But I digress. Happy Spring, ya'll.

If you have the time, please drop a review, and I'll see you all next chapter :)

God Bless,

-RainFlame