Starfire

The Philosopher's Stone was truly something incredible. With its strength, he felt more alive than he had ever felt in his life. But Roy had suppressed that euphoria. He had to remain focused. He counted his steps and repeated the plan once through his mind.

The only sounds were footsteps, water dripping and his heartbeat.

Breathe. Focus.

But he was only human. The mind wandered.

His thoughts drifted to the surface world. To where the rest of his team were fighting their own battles and the Elric brothers would never remain far behind. His thoughts drifted to the past, of Ishval and every (terrible) choice he had made to find himself where he was today. And his thoughts drifted to ahead. To the future. The unknown.

"The ground has suddenly become level, Sir," Hawkeye commented, coming to a stop and inspecting the path below her and ahead.

Roy stopped and lowered to the ground, the flame's touch following him. Havoc, who had been chewing on an unlit cigarette, stuffed the remains of the tobacco into his pocket. And then he stepped closer to Roy.

"No offense, Sir, but you aren't as competent as Fullmetal when it comes to this kind of alchemy," Havoc scratched the back of his head with his hand.

Roy's eyebrows narrowed for an instant. He knew that the transmutation had created a stable and strong tunnel. The structure would hold. However, he lacked the finesse to create a piece of art like Fullmetal. The pillars he had erected had transmutation marks littered across them like graffiti. And if he had more time, he would have taken the time to think about the appearance of it thank you very much-

Stay focused, Roy.

Hawkeye was kneeling beside him, her eyes wide with silent concern: Are you okay?

He nodded his head and rose to her feet: Yes.

He could hear her sigh gently: Very good, Sir.

"This means one thing," Roy said sourly, resisting the urge to bite his lip. His leg ached dully, echoing the anxiety building up in his mind, "the bastard has prepared for our arrival."

"Do you mean?" Havoc choked, his mouth wide and agape. It was luck that he had put his cigarette in his pocket, otherwise it would have dropped to the floor.

"It's a trap," Roy hissed, and then his flame extinguished. There was a sudden flash of light and all went dark.

He was about to draw in a sharp breath, but he found himself unable to. He choked and grappled at his throat, but the action achieved in fatiguing him further. Thrusting the feral panic into the back of his mind, he called upon common sense and his rationale. Roy could hear the struggled breaths of his subordinates. As his fear coursed through his bloodstream as adrenaline, the alchemist in him kicked into gear.

The burst of light had to have been a transmutation! It was different from any he had seen before, but this Kimblee had acquired a way to harness energy for his alchemy in the form of the voltage. The madman must have transmuted the contents of gases in the air.

Roy bared his teeth. How dare this imposter attempt to dabble into his field of alchemy? He, Roy Mustang, was the Flame Alchemist, and he had shed blood, sweat and tears (and caused much blood, sweat and tears to be shed) and nobody could take those experiences away from him. The Flame Alchemist therefore slapped his palms on the rock, breaking down the water molecules into their constituents: hydrogen and oxygen atoms.

The others beside him took in halting breaths. Roy staggered to his feet, still finding it hard to breathe. But he had transmuted. There should have been enough oxygen atoms in the air…to breathe comfortably…

He had to be missing something he was missing…

Colonel Mustang fell. His body wasn't functioning. He transmuted the air again to produce more oxygen…he needed oxygen. They all did. It made no difference. His heart continued to pump, accelerating with every second.

Panting, a wave of nausea caused his stomach to churn and he vomited onto the ground in front of him. The effects of the Philosophers' Stone had disappeared as quickly as they had started. How could he suddenly feel like shit, when he had been prepared to conquer the world a moment ago?

Hawkeye was on her knees, clutching her throat, and Havoc was slumped on his side, his chest rising up and down up and down like a carousel.

Roy then heard footsteps behind him. But the colonel remained where he was, making no indication that he knew someone was approaching.

How were they walking in these conditions?

Hurts. Don't think. Act.

"Lieuten…ant," Roy rasped, his throat parched and dry. Hawkeye's caramel eyes lifted to meet his. She blinked in assurance and weakly kicked him her shotgun. The effort was tremendous, and the mighty Hawk's Eye also fell to the floor beside Havoc, but her eyes never left her superior.

Roy grabbed the weapon close to his side, although from behind the person approaching could not see that which he was concealing. He tried his best to draw in a deep breath and rolled over, aiming the gun at the footsteps' owner.

He locked eyes with Kain Fuery. The man had scratches on his face and dried blood mixed in with his matted hair. His glasses were smashed but he still wore them due to his troubled eyesight. Something was better than nothing. And he was wearing a mask covering his nose and mouth.

Relief flooded through the man. Here was his subordinate, the youngest excluding the Elric brothers, was standing before him alive and breathing. The very sight of the sergeant filled Roy with a serenity which he exuberated when he lay on the floor looking at the dripping roof. His breathing was incredibly fast- in out in out in out.

Why did he feel like he was floating though?

The thought of the Elric brothers summoned feelings of disgust in Mustang. Edward had lied to him. Fuery had not died. Like the tabloid reports on the ruckus the boys' had caused running across Amestris searching for the Philosopher's Stone over all of those years, everything was nonsense. Those boys has fabricated and spouted lies to Roy and his team. Roy was willing to sacrifice his life (and of course he represented the values of his team too) for the Elrics.

And this is how they were going to repay him for his generosity?

What a wasted effort.

Roy finally realized that now. Like attempting to domesticate wolf cubs, those boys were a wasted effort.

Why had the colonel spent precious time feeling sorry for those pathetic limbless vagabonds?

Edward and Alphonse Elric had dragged them out to Turinene. And military members in Central would have likely found out that Colonel Mustang was up to something suspicious. That was all it took these days to be demoted. His dreams, his future, would shatter and it was their entire fault.

The only thing stopping him from storming after the Elric brothers was the fact that he could not move his limbs. They felt groggy and heavy, like a headache that had spread throughout his body.

A part of his mind cried out to him from the darkness: Stop it! This isn't true-

-Shut up, you pathetic shit. You're losing control.-

No…

-Too late.-

"Are you feeling alright, Sir?" Fuery asked him sweetly. He asked Roy that in such a sickly way, part of Roy's brain wondered why the sergeant had said it in that tone... but Roy was beyond the point of thinking. Part of his mind struggled.

Why? What was the point?

It's never too late, dammit!

-Your persistence is becoming a nuisance.-

You're the fucking nuisance.

Roy couldn't muster up the strength to speak. He was physically unable to do anything except breathe and blink and look up at the man he had thought was dead.

Edward wouldn't lie about Fuery. Fullmetal may be many things, but he isn't a liar.

-How can you take his word for that? There is evidence in front of you.-

Why are you trying to convince me otherwise?

-Who knew that we, the summation of your darkest thoughts, would have to argue with you? We have no need to answer that.-

If you're a part of me, then I must be missing something. I'm missing something blindly obvious! Not that you'll tell me.

-No. We are amused that this is the way your brain is coping to the deliria.-

I'm not going to stop until I know!

-Very well. Here is your clue. The clue that you're giving to yourself, how ironic.-

Just. Tell. Me.

-Stark.-

What the fuck did that do to help anything?

Roy panted and just as he was about to take a deep breath, he stopped himself. What was point though?

Fight it, dammit!

"Are you alright, Sir?" Fuery repeated, cocking his head with concern.

Mustang gestured with his eyes at Hawkeye and Havoc as he tried to push his body towards them. Please help them.

But the Fuery in front of him stood there. And laughed. Roy watched in horror as the figure of his subordinate melted. One moment the man was alive and the next his body became liquid-like and collapsed into the ground. Drip drip drip.

These damn tunnels.

Roy had to muster every ounce of his self-control not to vomit again. He couldn't let his mouth open agape again as that would mean he would breathe and that would be bad bad bad.

Hawkeye and Havoc were unconscious by now. He barely registered the rise and fall of their chests; it was so shallow. And his remaining brain cells were not functioning.

-Stark. Cobalt. You know this.-

Why can't you just tell me?

-Oh, come now, Flame. You're a scientist and logic is at your core. When you seek a solution, you don't want it handed to you. That's why you don't believe in God. You don't accept the information that's spoon fed to you. You rely on facts. Surely you have some of them in your brain?-

You're most talkative right now.

-We need to say our last words if this is our time, right, Colonel?-

The asses in his mind referring to him as 'Colonel' jolted him a little. How had he obtained such a high rank in the military? How had he committed himself to this life? Hard work and determination. But he also had a brain. A decent one too.

He would curse himself later for taking his Shadow's advice, but weren't they one and the same? The Shadow's fatalistic attitude had been replaced by something he had witnessed years ago in Ishval. Him. Pleading for life. He had not been able to stop babbling and crying. He didn't want to die.

That was it. He didn't want to die. Neither did he want those he treasured to die. He would be a selfish bastard and fight to stay alive.

Cobalt. He scanned his memory for the information he had on the element: number 27, period 4, group 9, transition element…

-The issue with that brain of yours is that it is only concerned for the scientific fact.-

Cobalt was an element- of course it was related to science!

And then Roy blinked. He was reminded of another memory in Ishval, but this one was one of the few pleasant ones (and his times with Maes did not fall into that category, the grinning idiot). He remembered a darkening sky and being on the first night watch. Fatigue and caffeine withdrawal were at the core of his thoughts. He had trudged up the hill to his post and had stopped. A metallic-blue sky had flashed before his eyes, the smoke and ash and blood and fire from the day seemingly lost in this nightly void. Solid grey clouds floated across a blue skyline, the colour of precious gemstones and metal.

Cobalt. And the contrast was stark.

-Remember.-

The night had been cold. That was one of the tricks of the desert. While stifling hot during the day, it sucked out the heat after the sun had set. He was freezing. And after seeing so much death during the day, he choked up his stomach contents and wept and then continued his watch like nothing happened. He indulged himself by having five minutes to pity the monster he had become. He would take a deep breath and look up at the stars (never seeing them), devoid of emotion or anything.

Numb.

It was a relief not having to think. His body would go completely numb from the cold and exhaustion and cares of the day.

In the tunnels, his body was going numb too. He could feel nausea tickling at his gut, wanting to free itself from its confines. It was when he had hit rock bottom that he had no choice but to rise up. To get up onto his knees and crawl forward if he had to, picking up the pieces and everyone he loved and his broken dreams all at once. He had to fall to understand how to rise.

Was that the answer?

Cobalt? Stark? It had nothing to do with a scientific equation. It was to do with how he felt?

I don't need a session of therapy right now! The sky- Ishval- it was cobalt-blue! Stark blue against the desert- orange and red. What does it mean?

-Your mind is a convoluted fuck-up, Roy Mustang. Did you think this was meant to be easy?-

I didn't ask to be like this!

-Remember that day.-

And he did. He remembered the feeling of despair, of being dragged (un)willingly into the depths of his mind, an unsettling night-time depression that haunted him for the remaining time of the campaign. On and on and on the night-time went. He had not been able to see the dawn for such a long time. Sometimes his mind could picture sunsets but they were streamed with blood and guts and it was too much and he would scream until the images faded or Maes' tight grip forced the demons away for the night.

He had reached rock bottom.

He remembered watching the cobalt-coloured sky, this time from his home in East City. And for the first time, he saw a star.

It twinkled faintly thanks to the city's light pollution. For the moments it flickered in the sky, a celestial candle watching and waiting, Roy pictured it turning into a comet and crashing.

Stars exploded. When their job was done, they said 'fuck you' to the world and made their exit before Hell became even more hellish. Some stars faded, sickly dwarves that shrunk and became shells of their past selves. Roy before the war would have been the former. But he knew for certain he had become the latter.

And he fucking hated himself for it.

He should just die.

It was so simple really. He didn't have to make a fuss of it…get it out of the way…feel the dawn….fall for real this time.

-What about the others?-

They'll take care of each other. They need Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, the destroyer of families, usurper of peace, Satan…

They don't need Roy. And that's all I am right now, if I'm even that.

He stared in the window glass and saw a gaunt and fucking sad man, a half-dead ghost already.

…

He didn't remember much after that. Trauma infected him like a parasite after the event and blocked memories out. He wouldn't be able to recall what happened for as long as he lived. But he knew that was ok and he would be ok one day. That's all that happened. He had lived a lifetime's worth of trauma daily in the desert.

All he remembered was Maes crying and he was crying and he felt so stupid and pathetic for having given up so easily. He was blabbing about how he had been possessed and everything in his mind had gone quiet and he hadn't been thinking rationally and he was starfire and death and destruction-

He was also rebirth.

He had found it hard to breathe. His throat was sore and he rubbed it tenderly. So gently. He feared that if he applied too much pressure, it would snap.

He could snap.

Not mentally.

He managed to choke out his request to Maes. Hughes looked uncertain, but with the little trust he had for his best friend (trust severed just like Roy had tried to sever his- stop it), he fetched one glove. Roy shoved the item onto his hand, letting the fabric caress him like a mother's touch. He snapped, manipulating the matter around him. It was a simple transmutation. Get more oxygen into the atmosphere. Negative pressure. His lungs would be forced to take in oxygen. Life source.

He wouldn't die.

…

-Now do you understand what you have to do?- The Shadow of his present smirked.

An invisible smirk with invisible teeth on an imaginary face. The Shadow that was also part of his consciousness and could kindly fuck off.

I do.

Roy transmuted. He repeated the same reaction he had back…then.

Atmospheric oxygen increased. He sucked in a breath like it was his first. He heard Hawkeye and Havoc cough, hacking sounds that tore at their lungs at least they were goddamn alive.

He was pissed off. The cobalt clue had had nothing to do with the alchemy required. Dumbass brain.

Sorry, Fullmetal. Had a bit of a rough landing, Roy chuckled weakly. He shouldn't have done that. ribs and diaphragm too focused on ventilation right now…

Whatever happened in the tunnels would be. He had to focus on rescuing Hughes. They each had a role to play, a piece on the chess board. Working in unison, making sacrifices and crawling across the stark black and white board into enemy territory, taking risks and being fucking afraid the whole time.

All the while protecting the King, sheltered in his little castle high on the hill.

Not anymore.

The King would begin his advance.

Maes wondered how much time had passed. Time down here was infinite. He usually made a pretty good guess.

Hell, his whole career was a blend of good luck and guessing until evidence forced logic to intervene.

His situation: he guessed it was bad.

He had been thinking a lot about his family. Both his family waiting for him at home (warm cosy nights with the fire roaring, Elicia falling asleep in his arms and Gracia working on a craft project. There was the soft sound of the evening radio and the gentle bustle of cars rattling up the street. He would be thinking about getting a dog) and his family in the military. It was one of the few good things brought about from the Fuhrer's dictatorship.

They had taken Fuery's body away. He had been left alone. If NoName did anything with Fuery or used him to torture someone, Maes would lunge and rip the life out of NoName's throat. Or rip out the demonic spirit that coursed through the mad man's veins.

Hughes' mind wandered to his imagination. That happened when he didn't have his glasses. They grounded him and showed him what was real. He could see the evidence with his own eyes and his mind could deduce this was reality.

So when he had a nightmare, he would be erratic. And then his glasses found their way to his face and he would blink and remind himself that it was the past and it had just been a bad dream.

He had such an obvious weakness. His family and his glasses.

Same as Ed's: Al and his automail.

Even then, he did not let the lack of automail prevent him from unleashing chaos.

Maes had to let that be the same.

He breathed evenly and shuddered- it was bloody freezing down here

Kimblee's story had shaken him to his senses. Added the logic he needed. It was fucking bizarre, but Kimblee's sob story had kicked his parental instincts into gear that forced him to care about every damn creature in need. There was no forgiving Kimblee but he allowed the surge of energy to flood his body, providing him with rationality and aid with his severe lack of sleep.

When he made it home, he was going to sleep for a year, wake up for a day and then proceed to nap for another six months. No exception. No distractions.

Until Elicia looked so damn cute Maes would have to force himself from his slumber to capture his princess in all her adorableness!

Not yet, Hughes.

NoName.

Literally. According to his recall, the younger Crimson Alchemist had killed his family and blackmailed his brother. For somebody to make a tale like that up was sadistic. Hughes felt that while Solf had been born with a streak of malice, Einar's had developed his after witnessing what had happened to his family.

And Hughes could not explain how he trusted Einar's story. That it was the truth. It had not been the malice in his eyes, ice-blue blue chandeliers ready to smash in an instant or the way his body had been trembling out of anticipation or fear or excitement whatever the fuck the madman was thinking. It was the distant look he had, the one that Maes was all too familiar with. The look of trauma, reliving memories that left one lacking words or justification, the memories which made one question everything. Just. Everything.

The memories that made one not only hate the world but despise it.

Maes could sympathise but couldn't understand. He didn't have any siblings and his parents were happily on a long retirement holiday in Aerugo. He wouldn't wish a fraction of the hell placed upon the Kimblee family.

But still, the antagonism was between the brothers. The Elrics unknowingly dragged friends into the ruckus they created, but they did not plan for it to be the case. Ed and Al were independent and did not like to rely on anyone if they could help it (they needed the support at the moment but who fucking wouldn't, I'll never forgive you, Kimblee, damn bastard of all bastards). The Kimblee brothers were the opposite. They had dragged everyone into their fucking mess.

And they were both attention seekers.

They needed the confirmation, the solace that somebody was listening to them. Someone who wasn't a rat or the rotting carcass of their dead parents.

NoName was rarely alone. He had a guard or an escort or in the room with his captors. Maes had assumed this to be a statement of pride, although it was the opposite. NoName couldn't stand being alone, just like how his family had all abandoned him for the afterlife (not by fucking choice).

He had to stop whatever the bastard was planning.

"Hello, Lieutenant Colonel!"

Too late.

The sonorous voice of Einar Kimblee was like a beacon in the night. A beacon that glowed crimson but noticeable all the same. A man who had to make himself heard…because his voice (and any opinion he had) had been quashed as a child.

Oh.

Everything was making sense in Maes' fatigued brain. He was impressed his brain had not given up on him.

"I have returned with a surprise for you, Maes Hughes! I hope you appreciate the efforts I went to in order to bring you company. Actually, it was easier than I expected! I was willing to go the extra step but I didn't have to! It was almost like I could take a seat instead," Kimblee was waffling and fiddling with the lock on his door. Maes' throat tightened. Even if he knew the man's history did not mean that he did not fear him.

NoName was unpredictable as fuck. Spontaneous. Insane. So smartly insane, intellect to rival any State Alchemist.

If someone else was brought to him, he swore he-

Not another Fuery. Damn he was talking about Fuery as though he was nothing but an item, something that was worth nothing and so would be thrown away.

Fuery was real. He was real. He was dead.

Oh fuck.

"I'm sorry I took such a long time. I had to prepare the surprise for you… but I hope this will make up for it!"

Heart pounding. Throat tight. Breathe breathe breathe don't give up now.

Kimblee practically skipped into the room, skipping in glee and joy and euphoria. And then one of his guards entered.

Roy. Tied up. Gagged. Hands keep apart by a bar. No alchemy that way. No gloves in sight. Head hanging low like a dead man.

The man had a black eye, sagging and drooping like rotten fruit. Couldn't even open the damn eye.

Some cuts along his arm.

"Roy!" Maes lunged forward, forgetting about the chains stuck into the wall. As he launched himself forward, the force of the iron dragged him backwards. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy to escape.

"Hughes…" his best friend choked but jolted and became quiet when the guard suddenly dropped his cargo. The guard looked Maes up and down in that way which made him want to vomit but after a concerned look from Kimblee, the guard went to shut the door behind him.

Leaving the two friends alone with the madman.

Like how Ed and Al were left alone in the dark.

How long would they be down here for?

And when would they get out?

Not if. But when. They were getting out of here. Out of these damn tunnels and out of Turinene and out of Amestris.

He was seriously concerning embarking on a retirement holiday himself when this was all over.

Focus, Maes.

"Hawkeye and Havoc? Did you keep your word?" Roy suddenly snarled and Maes swallowed. Had the three of them come to rescue him (and Fuery) in the tunnels?

"They are safe," Kimblee assured, "I have little use for them actually…"

The man was pondering but before either Maes or Roy could interject- what were they fucking going to do with them if they were useless- Kimblee continued speaking, "I'll set them free. Leave them on the surface. I'm sure one of your lot will find them!"

"What are your plans? If you dare hurt anyone else, I will make you pay with fire," Roy spat and Maes was sure the man would spontaneously combust if he was triggered anymore. There was life and fire in his eyes which Maes was grateful for.

They had all hit the end of the road. The only thing they could do was move forward and push through, smash the walls and beat fate to the finish line.

"All will be revealed in good time, Flame Alchemist. I first need to tell you the story I regaled your companion with here!

"And we'll begin Phase IV! Another powerful alchemist has walked into my realm; how could I let this opportunity go to waste?"

Roy lowered his head as if surrendering to his fate. But anyone who truly knew the Roy Mustang could see the smirk on his face.

Maes tried to stifle a laugh. A black eye and some scratches? Was Roy taking the piss? Obviously.

It would have taken much more than that to beat the Flame Alchemist.

What did the cocky bastard have up his sleeve?

Wow, long time no see! Massive apologies for the wait on this. Life happened. I am however stubborn and strive to complete what I finish.

LBYL is the start of that.

I will update a chapter tomorrow too, you guys have waited long enough to deserve that at least! I hope you've enjoyed.

Hello if you're new here and thank you for the patience of the readers who have waited for the update!