Chapter Nine:

"You, Edward. You were killed."

Edward wasn't sure who was more shocked at Hotch's pronouncement, him or Mustang. He also couldn't figure out exactly what emotions he was or should be feeling at that moment. His reflection in this world had been killed. In a way, Harding had killed him. After all, that was the prick's M.O – go after the reflections of the Amestrian alchemists in some sort of twisted plot to get retribution for insults and slights that the victims knew nothing about.

In all honesty, Edward wasn't surprised that Harding had managed to find his reflection here. He was starting to believe that this New York City was this dimension's reflection of Central City. What did surprise him was the timing of his 'death'. There was absolutely no way Harding just happened across his reflection so soon after he and Mustang arrived, especially with Harding being aware of that fact. This had to be Harding's not-so-subtle way of calling the two of them out. But why right now? If Edward's suspicion was correct, Harding had specifically gone out looking for the reflections of either him or Mustang, and he'd obviously found Ed's reflection first.

From a tactical standpoint, though, Harding's move didn't make any sense. The smartest move after attacking them their first night here would have been to lay low. Ed and Mustang were both high-ranking State Alchemists, and Harding knew that. If he knew anything about the two of them, he would also have known that both of them had plenty of experience as combat alchemists and in helping to detain rogue alchemists and other criminals for prosecution. Deliberately drawing attention to himself and calling Ed and Mustang out like this wasn't a smart play; what he should have done was lay low and let his trail go cold, or if that wasn't a possibility, try to get out of the city and put as much distance between himself and his pursuers as he could.

Maybe Harding thought that if we saw ourselves dead, it would rattle us, perhaps throw us off our game? Ed mused. If so, it just proves that he's as stupid as I thought he was. Mustang survived the Ishvalan War, and both of us fought on the front lines on the Promised Day.

He was so deep in thought that he never heard Mustang or the agents speaking to him. A touch on his flesh shoulder jerked him out of his thoughts. His head came up alertly, as ingrained habit caused him to start to bring his hands together in preparation to transmute his arm, but recognition of the touch a moment later allowed him to drop his hands back down to his sides. Mustang was looking down at him with something like worry on his face, his hand on Ed's shoulder, squeezing with just enough pressure to comfort and let Edward know he was there.

"Huh? What happened?" Edward wasn't completely surprised he had spaced out. Al was always scolding him for doing so, especially when they were in the middle of important events or if he was meeting with Mustang about a new mission and didn't want to listen to the briefing. "Was someone saying something to me?"

Mustang let out a slow breath that wasn't quite a sigh of relief, but which also held a hint of annoyance. He wasn't quite sure which emotion was dominant in him at the moment. He knew Edward well enough at this point to be familiar with his mannerisms when presented with new or interesting information. The kid's brain was usually active and racing as he tried to weigh every potential factor and outcome of what he was being told. But there was also a time and place for such distractions – it was one of the longest running battles between him and Ed, and one that wasn't likely to end any time soon.

The agents all looked a little concerned with Ed's reaction to finding out that Harding had targeted him via this world's version of him. They'd taken his silence as shock instead of him being his usual self, which wasn't surprising as they barely knew him. They couldn't be expected to know Ed's habits after knowing him for only a single full day.

"Was my reflection killed the same way as the others?" Edward asked suddenly, startling the agents out of their thoughts.

The agents glanced at each other, as if uncertain what to say. Morgan and JJ weren't likely to know all the details yet, since they had been at the hotel with the two alchemists, so Edward focused his attention on the other four, arms crossed over his chest and gaze intense and unblinking.

"Edward –" Reid started to say, but Edward sighed and took a step further down the footpath they had been following.

"Guys, I will go look for myself if none of you answer my question. You all seem to want to treat me like a kid just because of my age, but this won't be the first dead body or even the first murder scene that I've seen before. It's up to you if you want me to walk up and see myself dead without being prepared beforehand."

Ed really didn't want to follow through with that threat. He hadn't been lying – he'd seen plenty of dead bodies since he'd joined the military and he could handle it. He hated it, but he was used to it by now. However, the thought of seeing himself dead skeeved him out something fierce, especially if he walked up on "his" body without being prepared for what he was about to see. He shuddered inwardly, but didn't allow any trace of his inner feelings to show on his expression or in his body language. If he wanted the agents to give him what he wanted, he couldn't present himself as a scared little kid.

Thankfully, it looked like the agents wanted to avoid Ed's possible reaction if he saw himself without being prepared for what he was going to see, although they likely had their own reasons for it.

Hotch finally answered again, unable to outlast that intense golden stare. "No, he wasn't. His body was also staged, which is also a change in the M.O." He hesitated, but then continued. "He's not an identical match for you, Edward. His hair's not quite the same colour blond as yours, and his eyes are more of an amber brown than your golden ones. I suspect that's because no one in this dimension has eyes that are the same shade as yours. But his age and his facial structure and general height and weight are identical to you."

So that was at least one additional confirmation that this dimension was truly different from the one Ed and Mustang had come from. After learning about Hoenheim's heritage and background, Ed was well aware that he and Alphonse were the only two living Xerxians – and even they were only half-Xerxian. Golden eyes like his were a genetic trait of the people of Xerxes, just as red eyes were a genetic trait of those from Ishval.

He shook his head, dismissing his wandering thoughts and refocusing on Hotchner. "How was he killed and staged?"

Edward's question snapped Mustang out of his own thoughts and musings. He could tell where Ed was going with his questions. If this murder was different from the previous ones, then there had to be a reason. And since the only difference between this murder and the previous ones was the fact that he and Edward were now in this dimension, the only reason for Harding to kill this victim in a different way was to send a message to the two alchemists.

"He was shot through the heart and dragged into an old phone booth."

Mustang swore in that instant that he could feel the blood draining from his face. It couldn't be…

Maes…

His investigation into Hughes' death hadn't exactly been a secret among the military members who had been stationed at Central, nor was the fact that he and Hughes had been best friends since their days at the academy. Harding had been stationed in East City up until Grumman had brought his forces to Central after the Promised Day to help with the clean-up and rebuilding, so he shouldn't have had any idea of how close Mustang and Hughes had been. Even if there had been gossip among other soldiers in Central, no one would have voluntarily talked to Harding about it, given the mutual animosity that everyone seemed to have where Harding was concerned. Mustang was honestly not aware of a single person in East City or Central who claimed to be Harding's friend, and the other alchemist's military record didn't list any living family.

Perhaps that fact was a partial explanation as to why Harding had decided to start killing here, but it didn't explain how Harding had found out about Hughes, or why he would so clearly and deliberately issue a declaration of war between himself and Mustang and Ed. The Boiling Alchemist was clearly out of his mind – and as far as Mustang was concerned, this was all the evidence he needed to be certain that Harding was likely to fight to the death once they caught up to him. If, against all odds, they were able to catch Harding and haul his ass back to Central in one piece, Mustang would take great pleasure in making sure that Harding was forever walled away in a dark, isolated prison cell for the rest of his life.

Edward felt like someone had dumped a pail of ice water on him, and for a second thought that he might be sick all over Hotch's shoes. Mustang had blanched white and looked as though he'd seen a ghost. Given what he was currently feeling, Edward was ninety-eight percent certain that he probably looked exactly like the Colonel in that moment. Despite the fact that he was currently living part-time with Gracia and Elysia when he wasn't tending to Al in the hospital, he still felt guilty about Hughes' murder.

"It's your fault I'm dead!"

"You killed daddy!"

"You forced us to bury my husband!"

"You murdered my best friend!"

Ed wasn't an idiot. His decision to investigate the fifth laboratory against Major Armstrong's orders had been the trigger that had led to Hughes' death. Hughes might have been in charge of the Investigations department in Central, but he hadn't had any involvement in the plans of the homunculi and their Father other than as a potential soul to be used on the Promised Day. Sure Hughes had been a great fighter and a stubborn jerk, but he could never have been a match for any of the homunculi.

He felt his shock slowly turn into anger. There were very few things in his life that were off limits to being used like this. Hughes' death, his and Al's failed transmutation, and their relationship with their bastard of a father topped a very short list. As far as he was concerned, Harding had just given Edward permission to give him a beat down even Pride and Wrath would have been scared of.

"Does that mean something to you?" JJ's soft voice broke through the anger and sorrow that surrounded the alchemists. Ed felt his seething hatred for Harding dull down to the sort of simmering anger and hatred he had felt for Hohenheim for so many years until he was able to speak clearly. It wouldn't be fair to take his anger out on the BAU agents. They didn't understand the background or situation and why it was affecting him and Mustang so much. But once he'd explained this and taken a look at the scene for himself, Edward fully intended to locate and finish this mission once and for all. He was sure that Mustang would be on board with him.

He took a deep breath. "A couple of years ago, there was another soldier in our military named Maes Hughes. He was shot through the heart in a phone booth." He paused to gather his composure. "Hughes was Mustang's best friend, and he was my friend too. Most of the time he actually acted more like an annoying big brother or uncle towards my younger brother and me. He had a lovely wife and an adorable little girl named Elysia who had only just turned three when he was killed."

Edward closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Mustang when he explained the next part. "He was killed because of me. He'd found out vital information related to the coup we recently repelled that he wasn't supposed to know and he tried to pass it on to Mustang so that we could better prepare ourselves. But there were a few members of the enemy force who had infiltrated our military and somehow they found out that Maes was researching that information, so they killed him in order to silence him – and to send a message to me to stop investigating their plans."

"Fullmetal –" Mustang started, but Edward ignored him and plowed forward, determined to get it out.

"There weren't that many people in the military – at least not in Central Command or East City – who weren't aware of the fact that Mustang and Hughes were best friends, or that Hughes treated Al and I like we were part of his family. Just from listening to gossip among the other soldiers, Harding would have known about how his murder affected us."

"Edward." Mustang's use of his first name in front of other people was enough to catch Ed's attention and he glanced over at Mustang, still feeling a little sick with guilt – especially after his earlier nightmare. "You know Maes' death wasn't your fault. You didn't kill him. No one blames you for it – not me, not Gracia, and not Elysia. It was Envy's fault, and you know that." Mustang still looked as if he was going to be sick too, but he wasn't about to listen to Edward continue to beat himself up over something he had no control over. Maes' death still affected him to this day, but never once did he blame Edward or Alphonse for it, and he was determined to keep reminding the younger alchemist of that fact until the blond finally believed him.

"I may not have killed him, but he was killed because of me, and you know it," Edward snapped back, but his voice lacked the bite it usually held when they verbally sparred. Mustang could say what he liked, but Edward knew the truth of the matter.

Before Mustang could continue arguing, Edward turned his attention back to the agents. "I want to see the scene." His tone left no room for argument, but he didn't give them a chance to argue as he strode forward down the path. There was always the chance that there was another clue that the agents and their officers wouldn't realise was important since it related to alchemy – the same way the pattern on the map was only obvious to another alchemist or the fact that all of Harding's victims were reflections of Amestrians.

It took several seconds before he heard the agents and Mustang following after him. To their credit, it didn't take them long to catch up to him, and Hotch and Rossi passed him, leading the way to the scene. Reid fell into step beside him, as if he was trying to offer support, but Edward wasn't interested in having anyone who didn't understand the significance of Hughes' murder trying to comfort him. He didn't want platitudes. He wanted to see the scene and then track the bastard down and end this once and for all.

His step faltered slightly once they reached the crime scene. It was an old phone booth alright – and just five paces away from the wall of the booth a single streetlight cast golden light down over the entire scene. The booth door was open, and Edward could see a pair of legs sprawled half-in, and half-out of the booth, with blood pooling along the left hand side of the body.

"Damn him," Mustang swore under his breath.

Hughes…

Edward shook his head hard and walked over to stand in front of the booth, looking down at his own reflection. It was eerie, and yet he could see the differences that Agent Hotchner had mentioned immediately. His reflection – although their faces were the same, had lighter blond hair than Ed himself did, and the eyes, which were wide open and staring, were amber brown instead of molten gold.

It was strange to see…well, himself, almost, with all his limbs intact. The right hand was lying palm up on the ground, fingers slightly curled in towards the palm. The kid was wearing black pants, a black shirt and a red hooded sweatshirt which was stained with blood and marred by a round bullet hole and a quantity of unburned gunpowder right over the teen's heart.

Edward closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to maintain his composure. He'd told the agents that he could handle this, and he could. He wasn't going to give them any reason to doubt his word or to think that Harding was getting under his skin. But seeing his reflection dead…it was definitely creepy.

"Are you okay, Edward?" Rossi asked. "This can't be easy."

"I'm fine," Edward said tersely, opening his eyes again. "This doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" Reid asked.

"Harding choosing to go after my reflection. All he's doing is drawing attention to himself. If he'd just laid low, he might have had a chance to sneak out of the city before Mustang and I could get to him. He has to know that there's no way he can beat the two of us in a fight – not with our reputations."

"Didn't you say that state alchemists were the best of the best though?" Prentiss asked.

Edward nodded. "Yes, but even among state alchemists, there are some who are more combat and field work oriented, while others are solely research alchemists. Harding is a field work alchemist, but Mustang and I are too. As good as Harding is, his alchemy is by nature a close-range type, while Mustang is long range and I can operate efficiently at any range. Mustang alone would have the advantage over Harding in a fight because he could hit Harding before Harding could close in on him, unless Harding managed, against all odds, to ambush him. With the two of us together, Harding really doesn't stand a chance."

"So why make this move?" Mustang wondered. "He has to know that if we weren't already committed to finding him and hauling him back to Amestris that this would make us even more determined to catch him."

Edward shook his head. "I don't know. He shouldn't have had any reason to call me out in this fashion anyway. I've never met the man, and I don't give a rat's ass about him or his personal insecurities. The fact that he went far enough to use Hughes' death against us in this way is just more evidence of how unhinged he is."

"We see that a lot, unfortunately," JJ said. "There are just too many people out there who don't know how to deal with their problems in a healthy way, so they take it out on the people around them."

"That's why our team exists," Rossi agreed. "We get them off the streets and try to protect the innocent people from becoming victims."

"There's another problem," Reid said. "This part of the park isn't anywhere on that circle that you found in the pattern of his kills, Edward. It's quite some distance outside the circle in fact."

"Even more proof that Harding is just calling us out for a fight," Edward said. "I just don't understand his reasoning. It's like he's asking for a beating, but he must have some reason to think he can beat us, however unlikely that is." He brooded over his reflection's body for another moment. "Damn him. That does it." He looked over at the agents. "Which direction was Harding heading when he fled, and how long ago did he leave?"

"He was seen running that way, towards the east side of the park, about an hour ago now," Prentiss said, pointing to her left. "There are some empty buildings that would be a good place to lose pursuers and stay out of sight of the police patrols until it's safe to move back to wherever he's been hiding from us."

Edward nodded and, after one final glance at his reflection's body, headed in the direction that she had indicated, his stride purposeful and firm.

"Hey, where are you going?" "Fullmetal, where are you going now?" Morgan and Mustang asked the question at the same time.

Edward turned around to stare them all down. Lesser men and women would've flinched at the anger in his eyes, which looked like pools of molten gold and blazed with the heat of his fury. "I'm done playing games with this bastard. It's bad enough that he targeted innocent victims who know nothing about him or the issues that he's had with their reflections, but this time he went too far and he targeted a kid. If he'd come after me directly, fine. I would have kicked his ass, dragged him back to Central, and left him there to rot in a dark cell for the rest of his life. But now? He's going to beg for his death before I'm done with him."

Mustang simply followed Edward, knowing all too well that there was no point in trying to stop his subordinate. All he could do at this point was follow Edward and perhaps be prepared to encourage him to practice some restraint once he caught up to Harding – he had no doubt that Edward would find Harding.

"What are you going to do?" Hotch asked. "We can't have you killing him, Edward."

"I'm not going to kill him, but he's going to wish he was dead. I'm going to use my searching array to locate him. I have a feeling that he'll be hiding nearby – he'll want to see our reactions to my reflection's murder. So I shouldn't be stretching my limits too much. Once I've located the bastard, Mustang and I are going to take him down and end this mission."

With that, Ed continued his trek towards the east side of the park and the buildings that Prentiss had indicated. The agents and Mustang followed close behind him until they reached the wall that separated the park from the street. This late at night, there wouldn't be that many observers around to witness Edward's alchemy, so he felt safe enough doing it here. "Is this where he was seen last?"

Prentiss consulted her notes and confirmed that it was. Edward brought his hands close together and started preparing himself to perform the array. The small-scale test had shown just how much energy it would take to perform his tracking array, but the large scale one would be even more draining. It would be important that he find Harding quickly, or else he would risk collapsing in exhaustion once he ended the transmutation.

"Are you sure you can do this? You had trouble seeing in all directions during the small scale test," Mustang reminded him.

Edward didn't bother to open his eyes. "Of course I'm sure, Mustang. I redesigned the array earlier when I woke up so I should be able to make the wave go in every direction instead of just the one. Now zip it so I can do this."

Mustang fell silent and shook his head when it looked like the agents wanted to ask questions about what Edward was doing. Edward was completely still for a few more seconds before he clapped his hands sharply and then extended his arms out in front of him. For Mustang and Prentiss, this was a new experience. Edward's eyes suddenly snapped open and shone blue with the alchemic energy from the internal array he activated.

The energy released by the transmutation made his clothes and braid dance like he was caught in a windstorm but stopped as soon as Edward forced the energy outwards in a circle around him. He immediately sensed Mustang and the agents, but ignored their energy and made the wave expand further and further. He couldn't sense very many people in the immediate vicinity, and the ones he did seemed to mostly be drunks and homeless people. The biggest group he could sense were the police offices and crime scene technicians over by the phone booth.

He was already beginning to feel the effects of this transmutation, but he continued to expand the wave, stretching it further and further, going way past his test run. He would need to activate his energy absorbing array as soon as he ended the transmutation or he risked overextending himself and causing a rebound. Further…further…he had to keep going. He had to find Harding.

Wait, what was that?

He refocused his attention on the new colour he had just seen. Black, this time instead of white or red. He narrowed his focus further and concentrated solely on that black dot and its surroundings. But the colour was moving. Damn! I don't know the area well enough to know where the bastard is going. He focused on the area surrounding the black energy, trying to discern any unique feature or landmark that could be easily recognised and described to the agents once this was done. He needed to hurry. He could feel himself running out of alchemic energy. If he kept this up, he'd collapse. There!

Satisfied that he'd found a good landmark he shut his eyes and stopped the transmutation. The effect was immediate. His center of gravity shifted and he felt his balance give way. He dropped like a stone, but didn't feel the impact of his face against the pavement like he'd expected to. Instead, he felt himself caught by a strong pair of arms, one around his waist and the other one lifting his automail arm and draping it around a set of shoulders.

He forced open eyes that felt weighted down by stones and glanced to the side, confirming that the one who had caught him was Mustang. Despite all his annoying mannerisms, the Colonel was quick when he wanted to be, Ed had to give him that.

He didn't even bother with trying to calm his breathing like he had after the test run. He was far past the point of exhaustion and couldn't even muster up the energy to breathe hard. Just the thought of having to lift his arm and push his sleeves back to activate the absorption array made him want to cry, but he needed to gain the energy back. If he hadn't been as tired as he was, he might've felt a hint of embarrassment at having to lean against Mustang, but as long as the man was willing to be a support, he wasn't going to reject the aid.

Forcing himself to take a little more of his own weight so that he didn't over balance, and ignoring Mustang's protests, he removed his right arm from around Mustang's neck, wearily pushed back his left sleeve and activated the array he'd drawn there earlier. He could feel the transmutation working immediately, and given how quickly he could feel himself absorbing the energy, he figured that by the end of the transmutation, he'd feel only a little worse than he had after the small scale test run yesterday.

As soon as he'd activated the array, Mustang had reclaimed possession of his automail arm and draped it back around his own shoulders and retaken Ed's weight. The agents were all standing around unsure of what they could do to help. Mustang seemed able to support Edward and they all knew that Edward would tell them anything he'd learned as soon as he could, so for the moment they were content to wait for the younger alchemist to recover.

"How are you feeling, Fullmetal?"

Edward was too tired to even process a reaction to the concern he could hear in Mustang's voice. "Take a wild guess, bastard," he snapped, but without any real heat to his voice. He couldn't even muster up the energy for a display of temper at the stupid question, but apparently his words were enough to reassure his commander.

"Right, dumb question. Did you locate Harding at least?" Mustang was glad the blond was okay, even if Edward looked like he could collapse any second.

"Yeah, I did. Well, sort of. He was on the move when I located him. You should send people out that way," Edward raised his left hand wearily and pointed to the right, towards the closest entrance to the park from their current location, "about three or four blocks. Keep an eye out for a shop on the corner of the block that has a statue of a person holding a bowl or something similar in front of it. He was heading straight from that direction when I deactivated the array. If you can, find out where he's holed up but don't engage him."

"Why not?" Morgan asked. "If we get a chance to arrest him, we should take it before he kills again."

"It'd be better to attack him at night." Edward indicated the hint of daylight that was just beginning to appear in the distance. "Mustang and I are very good at sneaking around places at night. Plus, I'm certain now that you guys won't be able to take him down without us, and right now I'm way too fucking tired to even think about fighting."

Morgan looked insulted that Edward thought they couldn't handle one man on their own, alchemist or not. "What makes you think we can't take him down without you? I know he's an alchemist and a killer, but he'd be hard pressed to dodge bullets, right?"

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. Bullets are very effective against alchemists, but something about this whole situation has been nagging at me since Truth sent us here and I think I finally figured out the answer. Truth never mentioned letting Harding pass through to this dimension, which means he didn't pass through Truth's Gate with his permission. He had to have hijacked the Gate using alchemy, and there isn't an alchemist, alive or dead, who is knowledgeable or powerful enough to do that without Truth finding out. Not even I could pull off that trick. That means that Harding had to have bypassed the laws of alchemy somehow."

He both felt and heard Mustang's shocked gasp and knew that the other alchemist had figured it out for himself, but the agents wouldn't know what he was talking about.

"Harding is in possession of a Philosopher's Stone."

A/N - Sorry for taking so long to give you this revised chapter! I thought I'd already done so only to update chapter 10 and find out I hadn't! Anyway, here's chapter 9 and 10 will be up in a few moments. Let me know what y'all think!