Ouroboros Effect

Why did her superior officer have to wind himself up in so much trouble?

There would be a mound of paperwork to complete about why Colonel Roy Mustang had broken his leg on his holiday leave. The rescue of the Elric brothers in Turinene was supposed to be a secret mission, but it appeared that the Flame was equally as poor at discretion as Fullmetal. Believing that secrecy was of the upmost importance for this mission, the blonde knew she would have to threaten her CO more heavily…perhaps a rifle should be involved.

At least he had finally realized that having a broken was painful, and yes, it was not advised that said patient moronically throw himself into the battlefield against a crazed alchemist with incredibly powerful alchemy. She wondered how she had not given up on the man already.

Riza Hawkeye silently sighed to herself as she picked up her pace, her gun held close to her chest. The draughty tunnels wound on and on like an endless chasm, spiralling like a spider's web. The First Lieutenant quickened her pace and adjusted her mental calculations accordingly; she wanted to ensure she had mapped out an accurate distance from where she was headed and the Armstrong residence. The Elric brothers had been in no fit state to attempt such a feat, and if her superior officer had been in presence, he would have been too intent of hunting down the captor of Edward and Alphonse.

She blinked fiercely, one of the few signs of anger that escaped her rigid composure. Riza was never the one to boil over in fury about anything. The cool demeanour she had woven across her complexion had served her well since Ishval. There was even rumour that it had scared away certain enemies of the colonel. Thinking about the issue, Riza thought she would subtly hint about a pay rise to her salary from Roy.

That would never happen. He knew why she served and followed him. As long as he stayed true to the path that he had promised her he would lead, she was content.

She was relieved the colonel had entrusted her with a task that kept her mind occupied. Otherwise…she feared she would have been rendered useless at a time when that could not happen. Not only were the Elric brothers broken (far more broken than she had been after Ishval and they were young) but Mustang had rendered himself unfit to battle and Hughes and Fuery were missing. Havoc, the quirky lady's man from the east, was not being the problematic member of the team currently.

Two of those said team members were unaccounted for, and if Hawkeye was stubborn about anything, it was the protection of her team. They were her family (that included Black Hayate too) and loyalty ran thickly through her blood. It drove her aching limbs forward; it dulled the aching tension headache that had settled in; and it quashed the uncertainty and desire to turn back.

There was no turning back.

As she journeyed further and further away from the Armstrong hospital, the tunnels began to open up. This was a gradual change; however, for someone who had been wandering down the same dreary path for several hours, even the smallest of changes was noticeable and a welcome sight. And still she found nothing.

She was not certain about what she was looking for. Her keen eyes were taking in everything that she saw; if there had been a sign of a disturbance. Maes would not have surrendered willingly; he was an unofficial member of Roy's team, and unfortunately that meant he was as stubborn as the rest of them to work with the colonel. However, if it had been in exchange for the lives of the young Elric brothers, he would have "surrendered". Hawkeye could not see Hughes as the type to surrender that easily.

It was clear that the enemy had taken advantage of Hughes' biggest dedication and weakness. His family. If he was subject to drawing out firearms at his daughter's birthday party being a protective father, what would he have done in this life or death situation? He wouldn't bargain around with the lives of Edward and Alphonse. Hughes was a kind-hearted and warm man. He had endured through Ishval for the mere thought of seeing Gracia on the station platform once again in the distant future.

So he persevered. He had found a way through this nightmare.

Maes Hughes had to have found a way now.

Hawkeye had not noticed that her pace was slowing. Even she, the Hawk's Eye sniper who had become devoid of life the day she had donned the military uniform, was human. She leaned her hand against the side of the tunnel's wall and took a moment to catch her breath. She would give herself a minute. Possibly less. She had journeyed perhaps three or four miles down this passageway; it was definitely a far greater distance than the trip from Turinene to the mansion would have been. As a result, she concluded that these tunnels stretched far beyond the boundaries of the town. Did these tunnels even have limits? They stretched into the beginnings of the countryside by being connected to Viola's mansion. Riza felt her breath hitch- she had taken 7,385 steps. Three or four miles deep in a straight line.

Just how expansive were these tunnels? And how far did they connect?

She was shocked to think how the military had managed to miss this well-kept secret which had been kept underneath their Dog's noses for goodness knows how many years. It was disconcerting. And it was a feat to visibly shake Riza Hawkeye, a demon who walked with human flesh. She could see the crying Ishvalan children now the ones that she had shot in the face but then she had felt too guilty it was her fault they were dead her fault alone she should have been fucking BRAVE and she had buried them on a pathetic mound and wept all night was it enough-

It was never enough.

You cannot break apart. Not now. Not like this! The lieutenant scolded herself fiercely. She couldn't start weeping. Riza struggled and pushed herself off the wall, setting her body at a pace with a rhythmic motion, just like a pendulum.

7,386…7,387…7,388…

However before she had taken more than several steps, she paused. She had no reason to stop; if she paused then it would increase the chances that she would be unable to carry on. Her body would give up on her despite how much her mind may protest. But how this part of the tunnel, with dripping moisture and cavernous, yawning walls closing in from the sides and above, any different?

Her intuition was crawling with paranoia; it would not settle until her eyes scanned over the wall. And they did. That was when she gasped and stumbled backwards…was it?

No, it definitely was.

Alchemy transmutation marks. Very few people had the gift to be able to wield alchemy, and of those few, even fewer could harness the technical skill to be commissioned as an 'alchemist'. She could count on her hands those alchemists gifted enough to perform a transmutation without leaving any marks that their reaction had taken place. This individual had made a valiant effort to disguise their transmutation, but she was Riza Hawkeye, and her cunning eyes missed nothing.

This alchemist was clearly an amateur. And it was the alchemist who had taken Hughes and returned Ed and Al. The walls here were beginning to widen slightly and the distance was significant enough to demand a rest. Even weary Hawkeye had felt fatigue tingle along her spine.

Sleep later, she thought drearily.

-Will you ever get to fall asleep in a warm bed again? Or will you gain your permanent rest?-

The darker aspects of her mind were playing their infuriating tricks on her again. Luckily she was too exhausted to care about that. She had more important matters on her mind.

Keeping busy was preventing the insanity from wrapping itself around her brain just like ivy. It ensnared its victim and killed it before it could retaliate.

Please be safe, she silently pleaded to the members of the team. She assumed that her words were most likely to reach the team as opposed to a deity. But she had to admire the dedication the Ishvalan people had in the god they had named their civilisation and Holy Land after.

She pleaded again and decided that if anyone could hear them and answer, the better; she was desperate. Keep. Them. Safe.

Keep. Them. Breathing.

Riza Hawkeye trembled and she hoped that it was not premonition.

If she had needed a break before the train journey to Turinene, she could only laugh about how exhausted she was. The darkness was a gloomy and dreary place; it was the land of nightmares and eternity. In the daylight she could mark the passage of time as the Sun trudged across the sky. The change from dawn to morning to afternoon to twilight could seem like an arduous one. If she had not slept, she could not wait for the Sun to pass its zenith point in the sky. However, in the night-time there was no change.

She could have been trapped in the darkness for an hour, a day, a week, an eternity. Those boys would have been begging to get a glimpse of something other than artificial light after those timeless six weeks.

Turinene's tunnels really were an evil place.

Now she had a dangerous choice to make.

Where was Fuery when they needed him? A radio set would have been her saviour.

This was the worst fucking hangover he had had to endure. He had been a heavy drinker in the day, but that had been in the day. He had a wife and a kid back at home; these things drained him despite the amount of love that was poured into his family house every day. He had a responsibility when he had made that house his home, a home where his family not just of blood could come, a place where they could be safe and warm.

His head was pounding. He was uncomfortably hot, but he absent-mindedly felt his teeth chattering; his goose bumps were trembling wildly too. So he was cold…? Whether it was his age or lack of practice, Maes Hughes had never experienced this type of hangover before. He rarely had hangovers actually; he could have become a professional if that was the path he had chosen to take.

But his family came first. End of.

The rational part of his mind (which was far less active than Hughes would have liked it to be) slurred and complained about the lack of soft surfaces his back and ass were leaning against. So he had passed out on a surface? Had he fallen to the ground? Hell, was he rotting in an alley somewhere covered in garbage and would he wake up to a stray dog licking his face (apparently this dog had a taste for brandy – could dogs even drink brandy?) and he had failed to show up to work for the next two days?

Yeah…his mind was not being very useful at all.

Raising a hand to literally soothe the tension throbbing away at his skull, he opened an eye. The world was a blurry jumble and the surprising brightness he saw elicited a wince of pain and his eye closed tightly shut again. What he did notice however when his hand moved to rub his eyes was the lack of glasses. He needed those, goddamnit! The thought of contact lenses terrified him; the horror stories of the items becoming lodged in the eye gave him the creeps. But they would have been so much more practical…

Why was he such a fool?

Come on, Hughes. This hangover clearly isn't going anywhere. Deal with it! his consciousness growled at his splayed body. With his eyes still closed, he grunted. So his mind was beginning to cooperate after all. Even if it didn't particularly want to. He knew it wanted to curl up in that alley and wait there until the bombsite that was his brain called ceasefire and the warring nerve impulses in his brain slowed down to a halt. Life wasn't that sympathetic however.

And it seemed that his body hated him for it as it promptly spewed up his stomach contents. Luckily he was able to shift his neck to avoid the vomit catching all over his clothes.

He must have really had a rough night.

What the hell had he even been doing out? Maes couldn't fathom what would have caused him to drink so excessively and what had caused him to go out? He usually would go to one of his friend's houses to drink or host a small gathering at his own place. It not only saved money (which became a major thought when there were lives depending on you for food and a roof over their heads – not that he ever minded) but he wasn't that Maes Hughes anymore. He could have fun, but how much fun had he had last night?

It would have taken an insane number of drinks for Hughes not to only pass out, but to be in the state that he was in in the aftermath of this hangover period was incomprehensible.

And then he heard a voice.

To say that he was sluggish was an understatement. He groaned as he opened his eyes in that blindingly bright world that his consciousness had returned to. What he would do to slip back into a dreamless void…

"I see you're having trouble adjusting!" a voice that rang like a bell said cheerfully. Maes' ears felt like they were being flailed with whips. The pressure and tingling of sound sent his brain into a painful turmoil. He wanted to curl up and sleep. He wanted to scream and run. Neither of those were an option at present however. His body protested when he moved his hand for fuck's sake. If he tried to shift his entire weight, he was not sure that his brain could handle that pressure.

"Ughhhh… hurts," was the only comprehensible word that could be discerned from the black-haired man's mutterings. Hughes was not in a good state or condition.

"I did give you a shot that was suitable to your age and physique…maybe you're not carrying enough body mass to support my intended dose," the voice muttered, and this time Hughes' ears were being ground together like powder. The sounds rumbled together like miniature storm clouds and Hughes had to suppress a shudder.

This situation was damn crazy. Each second that passed granted his brain more minute relief from the hangover-not-hangover-

Wait.

Oh shit.

What the fuck.

Had he been given a…tranquilliser?

Did he recognise the voice?

"And I did take the fact that you have been under enormous stress recently into consideration…why did you have such an adverse side effect? Were you allergic? Were my calculations wrong? It has been my first time transmuting my equipment…could there have been further substitution of the products?" the man was babbling nonsense.

It was a man who was talking. And it was definitely not a voice that Hughes recognised from his history. However, one fog-bound memory came crawling from the recesses of his mind into the clutches of his figurative self. He grabbed hold of the memory and watched as the events of last night unfolded before his eyes. And he shuddered and tried to rise to his feet. His legs slumped and collapsed underneath him. He forced and pleaded with them to move- they had to move dammit! There was no choice. He needed to get away and warn the others-

There had been no drinking fiasco last night. There had been no reason to have fun and celebrate, especially not when they were waging their own battles with unknown forces that lurked in tunnels deep. Roy, Riza, Ed, Al they were all in danger.

His heart thudded like the clopping of hooves. His heart thudded like the clopping of hooves of horses. His heart thudded like the clopping of hooves of horses drawing his casket at his funeral procession.

He was in danger.

"Are you quite alright, Maes Hughes?" the man asked. Hughes forced open his eyes and saw a hazy image of Kimblee, ghostly and pale in this white light. No obvious features were apparent aside from the flash of pearl teeth, menacingly beautiful.

Hughes pushed his body back against the wall. He fumbled in his pockets for a weapon. His daggers…a gun…anything. But they had been stripped from him. Even the one he kept hidden under the sole of his boot (that was the spare for the spare for the spare dagger he usually kept at hand) had been taken away. He felt bare. His hand-to-hand combat wasn't anything outstanding, and in this state, half of his body and the majority of his brain were out of action. Even if this had been a fair fight, there would have been no chances of him winning on his own.

And that was when the silent voice in his head began to hope feverishly. It was a foolish and naïve thought, but the thought of someone coming to rescue him flooded through his body. No, stop! He couldn't have his clueless body falling for this gullible trap.

Would the team be looking for him now?

Had the Elric brothers been returned safely?

Oh Hell, did that mean they were all needlessly worrying about him?

That was one thing that Maes could not stand. He would be the protective father, thank you very much. He was the only member of the team who had children, so that was his excuse. Everybody else could worry about themselves. It was his duty to worry about them. But having them worry pointlessly about him was something he abhorred.

It made him useless.

But he could not forget that this was the man who had bested Edward Elric. If somebody managed that, it was likely to a ploy on the blond's part that would eventually work in his favour, or his younger brother would help him out of a particular situation. This was the man who had left those boys broken.

He had left them clinging onto faint strings of thread. Those strings were their attachment to this world…to life. They had seen madness and he knew from experience that death would have been a kinder option.

When one lost control of their mind in long lapses…it was terrifying. Not knowing when you would slip. Or how. It was like having a presence at the back of your mind that continuously watched you. Saying nothing. Doing nothing. Until like a tiger it pounced from the undergrowth and dragged you into its clutches, deep in a dark, dark place. And as soon as you emerged from the lapse, the waiting for it to strike again. It was a vicious cycle. It had to be broken without breaking the individual.

That was the part which was nearly impossible.

This man had been responsible for too much heartache. He thought sourly of the one child who had tried to bully Elicia. This particular girl did not like Elicia's pigtails at nursery. So she had grabbed his daughter's hair and yanked at the bobble holding the pigtail in place. She twisted and held the hair at an angle that it had made Elicia hold her lips tightly together. She didn't scream, but a little stream of tears had fallen down her face.

When asked what she was doing by the teacher, the bully had made a pouting face and started crying herself. It had taken Gracia's entire steadiness to restrain her husband and prevent Maes from telling the child's parents what he had thought of the situation during that damn meeting that was protocol (the children had to apologise to each other in front of their parents – not that Elicia had anything to apologise for).

This man was far more pathetic than Elicia's bully.

"Leave us alone, you piece of shit," he growled under his breath, keeping his voice level and firm.

"You are a lot calmer than Edward," Kimblee said. Maes could see though his squinty vision that the man was scratching his nose.

"You have no possible idea how I am seething inside," he interjected smoothly.

"Human emotion is a peculiar thing," the man started slowly. "I have always been interested in studying human psychology to a greater depth than my medical training covered. Our society is driven by the principle after all. It is both a science and an art. It can be related to the Fifth Element, the soul, which generates alchemy's Philosopher's Stone. And how much power that contains is extraordinary.

"The human soul is truly a tenacious thing."

"You're the one who deserves to be locked in these tunnels," Hughes snapped. He had to bide his time and wait…wait for his brain to stop whirling at the speed of a lightning bolt. Wait for help. Wait for freedom.

Or he could do something.

He wouldn't wait for that cycle to break. He would be the one to smash it to oblivion.

With a silent cry he lunged forward at the man and curled his fists tightly. His aim was the nerve bundle at the top of his leg. Maes made contact with the top of the leg with a sickening crunch but he knew from the moment his skin hit the trouser leg that he had missed because his damn glasses were smashed in a tunnel somewhere.

He was a fucking fool for ruining his one chance of escape.

"Roy Mustang will be here soon. Until then, I'll leave you both alone," Kimblee muttered. His hand touched his leg and there was a flash of bright light (was that alchemy?). The man, healed, turned and left Maes in this bright white room with a resounding click as the door locked behind them.

It would have been a wasted effort if he had thumped a fist against the floor in rage; he needed to remain patient. Logic would be his saviour. Everything he had been taught at the Academy felt like a lie; it was the experience of combat that decided if a soldier was great or not, and if they could think on their feet long enough to stay alive.

As he glanced around, his vision blurry as though he was swimming in the watery hands of the ocean. For as he turned around, he swore that he could see his indistinct reflection. He rested a palm on the surface and realised from the cool touch that it was glass.

And then he saw something else.

It was a mound. A mound of blue and black…and red. A stark contrast it was from the bright white around him.

A mound that was very out of place.

The problem with being a member of Investigations was the unrelenting curiosity that was a fucking bugbear until it had been answered or he had somehow found a way to put his mind to rest. His inquisitive brain was working on overdrive: it connected the shape of the mound to the colours that were mushed up together like something out of stew and was trying to deduce what exactly it was.

If there was injustice in the world, it was his responsibility to try and make it a better place. Especially after Ishval. That was the common motive between the members of Roy's team, after all.

So he shifted towards the peculiar mound, finding his mind begin to detach from his situation to purely focus on the case as it was. He became Lieutenant Colonel Hughes of the Investigations Department at Central HQ.

And then he looked.

He was an officer. He had survived through rounds of interrogation. He was a grown man. He-

Couldn't.

Couldn't breathe. Run. No.

Kimblee had pointed out that he would be leaving 'both' of them alone. Hughes was in the room alone.

But. He. Fucking wasn't.

He was the opposite of alone. He was being strangled by his mind oh why the fuck did he have to be so fucking curious why couldn't he have accepted that the world had strange fucking things inside of it?

Maes Hughes slumped forwards and held the mound close to him, and he was weeping and sobbing into his jacket, attempting and failing miserably at muffling his agonised cries.

Why had he been the one to stumble upon sweet Kain Fuery's corpse?

Maes couldn't fucking see clearly, but he knew the young man's brains had been blown to bits. He wanted to turn around and run and pretend that the last 30 seconds had not happened.

Why did it have to be him?

Why…

The train station was loud and hectic as it always was during the rush hour in the early morning. Havoc yawned and scratched his ears. He had not had a wink of sleep the night before.

After he had been the one to realize that the lieutenant colonel had walked straight into a trap, the Elric brothers had returned with Phillip. Hawkeye and the colonel had returned moments later, and Hawkeye was the one determined to track Hughes.

The traitor, Jean's mind supplied helpfully.

Why was his mind being so jolly about this? He really needed to sleep for 48 hours and not be disturbed aside from his mother's breakfast and bathroom breaks. He needed to have a gathering with all his friends and family at his ranch home where they would eat an endless banquet. But not now.

As he tossed his chewed cigarette into the bin, Jean longed for that day to come sooner rather than later. That would be a time when everyone would be healthy and safe.

He was brought out of his daydream by a train whistle at the platform he was standing at. The night before, Hawkeye had found the time to call the automail engineer of Ed's. Her name was Winry Rockbell. As a country boy from the East Area who had several friends who had required automail after accidents involving machinery and the harvest, he was familiar with the name. The work of the Rockbells was considered some of the finest in Amestris.

Havoc did not realize that she would have left Hawkeye still on the phone line, packed her items and caught the first train to East City and then exchanged to Turinene. She was stubborn just like the Elric brothers she had spent her childhood with.

The decision for her to come to Turinene was a controversial one. She had heedlessly thrown herself into a dangerous situation, and would arguably be another civilian to defend. However, what the brothers needed was a familiar face.

He recognised the young woman by her blonde hair and massive bag she had slung over her shoulder.

"Lieutenant Havoc?" she asked and when he muttered a quiet affirmative in response, she held out her right hand boldly, "it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"Just call me Havoc," he replied and took the suitcase she was carrying in her other hand. She refused to let go of the heavier bag though, clutching onto it like how a child clung to a toy.

"Ed and Al? Where are those dummies?" she asked, looking over his shoulder to find the brothers. She had not seen them for months. They were still officially missing. Havoc began to think that she had journeyed here so quickly out of desperation and hope. Desperate hope. The two worked well together.

"A lot has happened, Miss Rockbell," he started feeling the tension settle in the stifled air of the train station.

"Where are they?" she cried, her pupils dilating in fear and shock.

"I'll take you to them now...they'll need you, Miss Rockbell," he said. They'll need all of us now.

A little bit of a longer chapter! I'm glad to have got this finished by the weekend :D Poor Hughes :( he deserves so much better than what he is gets in this chapter.

LBYL's plot is going to begin to thicken next chapter...I'm looking forward to writing that.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!