Hellbound

by The Flame and Hawk's Eye

After Roy Mustang's explosion at Laboratory 3 kills both Wrath and Lust, Father deems both Roy and Riza Hawkeye as forces too strong to ignore. So rather than fight against them, he decides to fight with them.. Faced with the rebirth of Wrath and Lust, the Elric brothers and Team Mustang enter a desperate fight to save their King and Queen.. before it's too late. AU divergence fic.

16. Chapter 16

A/N: I'm working on everything else right now. I just had to get this chapter out! Please let me know if anyone seems OOC or anything feels rushed (especially Winry - who is getting a major bout of development soon!)! This chapter is the last one that will loosely follow canon. From now on it will deviate severely from canon! Thank you for your feedback and reviews! They're greatly appreciated! 3

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"W-Winry… I think… I think I just saw my body."

Winry bowed forward and dug her fingers into her scalp, replaying Alphonse's panicked words over and over in her mind until they stuck. The raw, unabated fear in his voice as he told her what he had seen once again sent shivers up her spine, and had prevented her from falling asleep. There were too many variables; too many things that had happened that she had so desperately tried to organize and make sense of. But all she could think about, and what had ultimately found itself at the forefront of her mind, was how Alphonse had changed before her very eyes.

They had gotten back to the hotel later than they normally would. Alphonse had only been gone for a few minutes but, fearing he would dissociate again, they opted to stay behind at Central Command until they both felt comfortable moving again. But once he had finally explained that he was well enough to move, Winry immediately noticed that something about him was… different. She hadn't been able to place her finger on it then, and she found that she still had trouble placing it at that time too. At least from what she could determine, it was as though a piece of him had been left behind. Like the optimism he had been exuding before had vanished, and had left behind an Alphonse that hadn't completely been himself. Though, she supposed, that should be expected given what had happened.

What she had wished, and had hoped, was that he would abandon that image once they were alone, but even that was not meant to be. Instead she was left as in the dark as Jerso and Zampano had been, even when they were alone together. The only thing he had explained was that he saw a Gate standing in a vast expanse of white, and his body had been seated in front of it. His body had beckoned him to come closer, promising his return with the simple touch of a hand. Their two guards seemed surprised by his recounting, not completely understanding the alchemy involved. Even though Winry knew about as much as they did about soul-binding alchemy and its rules, she was at least able to decipher in his soul-fire eyes his hesitation when prompted by them as to why he didn't return to his body. She could see the want flickering in his eyes. He had wanted it so badly. But even then, something was not meant to be.

He had shaken his head and lied, telling them that he didn't want his body back. At least, not yet. The revelation seemed to confuse them, but they accepted it for the time being, thankful that their charge was in one piece yet again. Their concern was evident, but it was something he had tried to lessen by explaining to them that what ultimately mattered was that he had returned to the body he was currently occupying.

Winry hoped that he would elaborate for her, but the explanation she hurriedly received once they were alone was that if he had accepted what his body had offered, he would have likely been stuck at the Gate. And that if that happened, there would be no telling when or if he would ever be able to return.

It wasn't something she had even considered before. She thought that the reunion with his body would be the end of the road, but not in that sense. Never had she thought that he would have to open the Gate again by sacrificing something else for a toll.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If that were to happen, she honestly wouldn't know what to do. Winry had been tossed into a situation full of monsters and alchemy that she still had trouble understanding. Alphonse and Edward were the ones she always turned to when she needed an explanation, and with the former possibly fluctuating from the Gate to reality and the latter unreachable, she was virtually useless. Just as small and insignificant as Lust made her feel…

An image of the Homunculus flashed through her mind. It was enough to break what little solace she had found while surrounded in the nest of blankets and pillows she had built to reinforce what little comfort the home away from home gave her. Her skin began to crawl and she suddenly felt as though she were in the room with her, watching. She jerked her head up with a strangled gasp and frantically scanned the darkened room for any signs of her blonde hair or wicked smile. But just like she had known in her heart, there was no one else in the room with her.

Winry took a few deep breaths and admonished herself for allowing her fears to get the best of her. She reminded herself that the Homunculus likely wouldn't care enough to follow and torment them in that manner. In fact, she didn't even care enough to verify that Alphonse was gone like she had believed him to be. Lust never returned after she stumbled out of the office, and in Winry's mind it had been for the best. What had happened between the time she and Alphonse had entered the office to the moment the Homunculus had fled the scene was nothing short of a revelation that Winry was still trying to process.

She had wanted so desperately to believe Ed and Al and their promise that Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn't let anything harm them, but after every encounter with Lust she felt her resolve grow weaker. She balled her hands into fists and carefully eased herself back into the conversation she had with Lust, along with her encounter with Riza.

Her reaction to what had happened to Alphonse had been fueled by her uncertainty and lack of understanding as to what had become of him. The Homunculus only added to her emotionally-charged confrontation by digging deep into Winry's psyche and extracting her already fragile view of the Lieutenant, fracturing it even further. She found herself questioning everything she had been led to believe by Ed and Al, and the Homunculi.

Why hadn't the Lieutenant made an appearance when Lust had taken her captive in the tunnels that ran beneath Central Command? Why was it only after Lust had pointed out her lack of some sort of presence that the Lieutenant came through? Had it been because she no longer cared? That her resolve to protect them had vanished when Lust took command of her body? Or was it like Edward and Alphonse had said, and that the Homunculi had complete control, only giving it up when it was convenient for them?

She recalled them telling her that both Riza and Colonel Mustang both managed to break through when the Homunculi were first discovered. But even then, it seemed to Ed and Al that the reason it happened was because the Homunculi wanted to gain the upper hand; that they had allowed them to.

She pushed her fingers through her hair, trying to separate what she believed from what she was supposed to believe. But it was hard. It was difficult to even know what she believed anymore. Did she still trust Riza or had she ultimately decided to discount her the way she had Lust? Her actions seemed to suggest the latter, but something tugged at her heart and begged her to reconsider. Should she trust Ed and Al about the slight possibility they could save Riza and Colonel Mustang, or should she give up the way everyone else had?

She didn't know… She didn't know… She didn't know.

All she wanted was to talk to Alphonse and right herself, but not even he had been available. She had given him the space he needed, just as she had needed before, to recollect himself and understand what had happened, offering her presence if he needed it.

But he had turned her down, opting to take time to himself to try and understand what had happened to him.

And she had let him. Allowing him to wander the hotel and suite alone as he thought and read and tried to process everything. He had given her that courtesy, and she believed she should extend it to him as well. But now, after so many hours had passed without any signs of him coming forward to speak to her, she began to regret that decision. There was nothing more that she wanted than to hear his thoughts. She wanted to comfort him just as he had for her, and she for him numerous times before. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and peered toward the door to look for any signs that a light was still on.

Winry pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, taking care to make as little noise as possible when her feet touched the floor. Easing herself off the bed as slowly as she could to prevent its springs from groaning, she straightened herself out and padded over to the door that separated the room she had been sleeping in from the suite's seating area. She blindly reached out and felt through the darkness until her hand found and gripped the door handle. She turned it slowly and then hesitated to listen, straining to hear anything on the other side of the door that would indicate whether Alphonse was moving around or not, an indicator she had used to determine if she needed to crack the door open. But when she didn't hear any movement, she slowly pushed the door open and peered out.

It seemed she had missed the moment he had decided to turn his reading lamp off, as it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the room's darkness. Once they had she saw that the large form that had been seated on the couch had instead moved, opting to sit on the floor against the wall furthest from the door. She waited, watching for any signs of movement from her childhood friend, looking for the familiar flicker of his soul-fire eyes. But as she watched him, a feeling of panic tugged at her heart. Something about his posture, the way his head was lowered with knees drawn into his chest, seemed wrong. He looked… inanimate. As though he were empty.

The thought turning the uneasiness she felt into a full-blown bout of panic, Winry pushed the door open and clambered through the darkness over to him. Her hands found their way to his knee and just as his name escaped her lips, the armor jumped.

"Winry," he gasped, turning his soul-fire eyes toward him. "I'm sorry, I… I didn't hear you."

"It's okay, Al," she assured him. "I… didn't say anything anyways."

"Oh." His shoulders sagged, though the tension that was present in both his body and the air around him remained. "Are you okay?"

No, she wanted to say. She wasn't okay. And neither should he be, she believed. From the moment he had returned to his body, she could see him grappling with his emotions as he tried to understand what had happened to him. It had been difficult, if not impossible to begin to discuss it with Jerso and Zampano flanking them, because from what they could tell they didn't seem to know that they were being manipulated by a Homunculus. Their concern had been genuine, and for that they both had been thankful. But a sense of uncertainty hung in the air between the two parties, and it remained there from the moment Alphonse had reassured them that he was okay to the time they both begrudgingly left them alone at the hotel. And it, unfortunately, had remained behind with them, drawing an invisible boundary between the two of them.

It was odd losing that line of communication with him. In the past they had always been able to work through whatever hardships they were both facing. She had thought that it had opened again when she confessed her thoughts to him after what happened at Mrs. Hughes', but now it seemed that the tables had been turned: that, rather than she who had blocked him out before, it was now he who was barring and refusing to let her in.

Winry settled down next to him and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She sighed. "I don't even know anymore, Al."

He turned toward her, alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Winry shook her head. "I'm alright… For the most part," she admitted. "But what I'm concerned about is you, Al."

His body went rigid and he averted his gaze from hers. "Oh…"

His answer stung. It wasn't the answer she had expected from the Alphonse she knew. The child she knew had been so much more open with her, and never hid what was on his mind for her. It was something she had always admired about him. But now she could feel the wall between them begin to form again.

Fearing another obstacle similar to what they had encountered when she had withdrawn from him, she placed a hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her again. Their eyes locked and for a second neither one of them moved, stretching the moment as long as they could before they delved into the conversation they had avoided after they had returned home.

The silence was deafening… And she couldn't take it anymore.

"Al," she finally said, breaking their quiet, "I need to know what you're thinking. I don't want you to be alone with your thoughts for a second longer."

He didn't seem surprised by her declaration; if anything, he had expected her to jump to it. His soul-fire eyes danced back and forth, appreciating her expression and the desperation that accompanied it. His shoulders slumped and he turned his eyes away from her. "I guess I'm still trying to process what happened," he admitted, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "Even after all this thought, I'm still trying to understand what it was that made me leave and go to my body."

Winry was surprised by that revelation. It was as though he had another reason aside from what had happened prior when Lust had touched his blood seal that could have accounted for what had become of him. She didn't utter anything in protest, however, and instead waited for him to continue and explain.

Seeing that she wasn't going to interrupt, Alphonse moved his shoulders up and down. "I don't know what happened, Winry. And I'm trying so hard to figure out what it was because I don't want to assume something wrong."

"What do you mean, exactly," she pressed. "Do you think that it might not have been caused by what she had done?"

His armored body stiffened, and she momentarily regretted bringing it up so abruptly. But when his shoulders loosened and his body relaxed, she reminded herself that the topic would have come up eventually. What would matter was whether he had worked through his thoughts enough to distinguish between the reasons he had gathered for what could have happened. Then, finally, he shook his head and uttered, "I… don't know, Winry. On one hand, it seems logical that what happened before could have caused this since she had touched my blood seal, but on the other I know that there is another explanation for what had happened. Something that seems more plausible to me."

Winry's brows knitted together. "'Another explanation,'" she echoed.

He nodded and curled into himself, somehow seeming to shrink before her eyes. "Brother and I met others like me, who were disembodied souls attached to suits of armor. One of them made me realize that my armor will eventually reject my soul because it's incompatible. So it could be possible that the body I have is beginning to reject my soul."

One of the biggest shortcomings in regards to Alphonse being stuck to the armor was the fact that she could no longer read his expressions or his eyes. All she could do was listen to the smallest inflections in his voice to try and determine what he was thinking. And at least, as far as she could tell, he was struggling between the two options that had been laid out on the table in front of him.

"Is that what you really think happened," she asked, albeit a bit skeptically. He gasped and lifted his head, eyes flickering across her face. Realizing how her question might have come off, she took a metaphorical step back and softened her expression.

It seemed to do little to comfort him, as his armored body began to quiver. Then, without warning he cried, "Just hold on!"

Shocked by his outburst, Winry gasped and flinched away. He remained adamant in his position turned toward her, hands curled into fists and soul-fire eyes burning. But then, after a few moments the tension left his armor and he seemed to collapse into himself. He was the one who finally broke the silence by burying his face into his hands. "I'm… I'm sorry," he choked. "I didn't mean to yell."

"No, Al…" Winry placed a hand on arm. "I'm sorry…"

"You shouldn't be," came his muffled reply. "It's just…" His voice broke and he shook his head, stopping short of what he was going to say.

Afraid of saying something that would push him further, Winry kept quiet, keeping her hand pressed against his shoulder.

"It's just… I don't know what to think. All I can think about is how you and everyone else will say that it's because of what Lust did to me and I… I just can't accept that yet! I don't want to believe that Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang are gone or unreachable. I just can't!" He dragged his fingers down his face and looked up, eyes fixated on the corner of the room nearest them. "I'm just," he began softly. "Not ready to give up, even though everyone else thinks that I should."

"I don't want to give up," she admitted softly, loosening her hold on his arm as she turned her gaze away from him. "But," she said with a sigh, "I just don't know what to think anymore."

"Then think about hope."

She spun around and saw that he had turned to look at her again. Catching her eye, he said it again. "Then think about hope. That they're still in there and fighting. Because as long as I have that hope, I will continue to fight for them."

Winry's hands fidgeted and she locked her fingers together, unlocked them, and them locked them again. Hope… "But how do you know," she whispered. "That they're still fighting, Al? How do you know that they can be saved?"

"Because someone once told me that nothing is impossible," he quipped. "If that's true, then there's something we're missing here. Something we haven't discovered about the Philosopher's Stone yet. If we can figure that out, then we can pull them apart. And," he added, "I saw them once before and know that we'll see them again. They're strong, and I know they're still fighting and—" he tapered off. She could feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing what her body language said that she had been unable to speak. "What… what's wrong, Winry?"

She winced, locking her fingers together again. "I saw her, Al," she admitted with a whisper. "After you vanished it was just the two of us. And then… she came through."

"She did," he gasped. "What did she say?"

She dismissed his excitement with a solemn nod. "Al… I didn't give her the chance to speak." Winry rested her forehead against her knees and took a shaking breath. "I was angry, Al, because Lust made me believe she had damaged your blood seal beyond repair, and that Miss Riza had stayed back because she no longer cared. And I…" she swallowed thickly, "I called her a monster." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Al pull away and straighten himself. Whether it was in shock or because he was appalled, she was not sure. But she didn't stop there, the words, the regrets, now pouring from her lips. "I could see it in her eyes," she continued. "It was her… It was her and… I just dismissed her along with those monsters." She pulled her trembling hands apart, no longer able to keep them laced together, and bowed her head. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He shifted, and for a moment she thought that he was removing himself from her. Not that she would blame him. Every time she revisited that confrontation, she found that she hated herself more every time. Her doubts, her fears, were slowly being ebbed away by Alphonse's discovery. And now all she felt was regret and an image of Riza's face in her mind, and the utter betrayal and hurt it displayed.

"I don't blame you, Winry." She rubbed the corners of her eyes with her wrists and looked up at him. "Back when we faced the first Lust, she told Lieutenant Hawkeye that she had killed Colonel Mustang. She believed her and reacted in a similar manner. So," he said, threading his hands together in his lap. "I can understand what was going through your mind."

His words did little to comfort her. Did he really understand, or had he simply been saying that to make her feel better? The more his words replayed in her mind, the worse she had felt about it. But at the same time, she wanted to verify it. Because in some way, seeing for herself that Al's blood seal was intact would give her the closure, and would finally lay to rest the doubt she had held in her mind.

"Al," she whispered, gesturing to his helmet. "Can I…?"

"Oh… Of course." He leaned forward and pulled his helmet off, exposing his blood seal to her. "I know that I have to still keep that option on the table until I see Brother again, but as of right now I don't think that it did." He pointed toward the traces of blood that had been drawn into the intricate pattern that would bind him to their physical world and said, "I've looked at it over and over and over again. Nothing to indicate that any damage was done to it. Of course, I won't know for certain until Ed comes home, but from what I can see there isn't anything that would suggest that Lust had anything to do with what happened to me. Also," he added, "If she did, it would have been the moment she had touched it.

"Winry… What I'm trying to say is that I don't think Lust did that to me."

For the first time that evening, she saw how bright and sure his eyes had shone. How absolutely certain he seemed by what he had revealed. And it… made sense, at least by how he had described it. She placed a hand on the edge of the opening and peered inside, catching the outline of the

His torso shook and he bowed forward to give her a better view of the seal. Gripping the other side of the opening, she leaned inside, using the faint glow of the streetlights outside to guide her eyes around it. And from what she could tell, he was right. Though they had scrutinized it before and had seen nohting, there was nothing new she could see on it that suggested it had been damaged to the point of having its alchemic flow disrupted. It blurred for a moment and she blinked, realizing that tears had begun to collect in her eyes.

It… It couldn't have been her.

Lust had lied and Winry took the bait, and she had lashed out at Riza as a result. She tore a hand away from the edge of Al's armor to cover her mouth, stifling a sob as the gravity of what she had said, and his revelation, finally sank in.

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So it was Wrath after all…

Edward supposed that, of the seven sins that could be endowed on the Colonel he had known, that was the one that would be the most 'compatible.' He had seen what he was capable of when his temper took control.

Despite feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, Edward held his blade at the ready and said, "I was starting to think you didn't have a name since we kept dancing around that topic. It'll be nice to no longer have to call you by that bogus rank you got."

The corner of Wrath's lip twitched and for a moment Edward thought he had struck a chord with the Homunculus. But then it relaxed its hold on the saber in its hand and grinned. "Would you have said the same when I was your Fuhrer?"

A chill traveled down Edward's spine. Wrath was the Fuhrer? Was it possible that Fuhrer Bradley had been the previous host for the Homunculus? No, he concluded as he curled his automail hand into a fist. That was impossible. The Fuhrer had died the day before. Wrath had come to fruition well before that had happened.

Unless…

Unless it had been removed from Bradley. Was it possible that the Homunculi could be removed? And if so, would that mean that the host would die shortly after? The revelation spurred more questions than answers, and with the situation he found himself in, he knew he wouldn't get all the feedback he needed. Especially considering the attack was still underway. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see out of the corner of his eye the massive opening Wrath had created. It was stalling by dangling its information in front of him. He needed to seal it at the very least and ensure that Wrath wouldn't open it again.

He cautiously slid his foot out from his side, keeping his eyes trained on the Homunculus. Maybe keeping it talking was the only way he'd be able to complete his task. "I probably would've said the same," he answered.

It lifted a brow, a somewhat skeptical look stretching across its face. "Are you suggesting that you would have disrespected your Fuhrer and king?"

Edward scoffed. "Your position of power wouldn't have changed the fact that you're still a monster."

"'A monster,' hmm," it echoed. "You might consider me a such, but as far as anyone else is concerned, I am human. Just," Wrath added as it lifted a hand a curled it into a fist, "More evolved."

"Sure," Edward bit back. "Is that what you tell all the upper brass sheep? Let them think you're like them and then offer them the immortality they crave so they follow you?"

Its eyes flashed with interest and its lips parted with surprise. The deduction hadn't taken much for Edward to conclude on, though it was rather bold. By its reaction, however, it seemed he had hit the mark. Just like how Raven had offered protection to General Armstrong, several the other higher-ranking officers had been given the same promise. If it was true, Edward could not be certain. The only thing he could bank on was the fact that the giant transmutation circle that encompassed the entire country had the capacity to take the lives of millions of people. The idea that those souls could be used to create Philosopher's Stones for them was not too far-fetched, though there was no telling the Homunculi and their creator had any such plans to do so.

"I suppose that could be true," Wrath answered. "Though… Wouldn't you think that I would want keep one of my closest allies alongside me, Edward? Someone willing to follow us for what we have to offer would surely be an asset."

Edward's lip twisted with disgust. The one in question, of course, was General Raven. Someone neither he nor Mustang had particularly liked. Even if he had been a part of the plan, Wrath still didn't have an appropriate reason for killing him. "You said so yourself; he was nothing but a pawn to you just like the rest of them."

Its lips split into a smile. "As long as they believe the former, Fullmetal, then they are welcome to follow for as long as they are needed."

"And then you'll just discard them like trash, right?"

"General Raven served his purpose," Wrath pointed out. "He's one of two who have started what will be one of the most pivotal moments in this nation's history."

"'Two'," Edward echoed. "What 'two?' The only person I remember dying was General Raven, and that was by your hand."

"True," the Homunculus said with a light shrug. "I won't deny that I killed General Raven. He was no longer useful to me after all. But," it added as the corners of its lips lifted, "You can't deny your involvement in helping to create the crest of blood, Elric."

"I already told you," he growled. "I refuse to take any part in your sick plan." Its lips parted in response and it tilted its head with feigned fascination. Edward felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something about its expression was deeply unsettling, as though there were something more it was trying to guide him toward.

Wrath had said Edward was involved in the creation of this supposed 'blood crest,' but he had done nothing that would involve himself with them at all, save for the fact that he had agreed to come to Briggs in the first place. Though even that could not have been helped. It was only natural for him to protect his friends and family, even if it meant putting himself in the hands of the Homunculi. But he had made that promise with his morals intact, and that included his vow to never take a life.

The Homunculus took a step forward, forcing Edward to take two back. "You know, you don't have to physically rip the life from someone to kill them, Fullmetal. There are other means by which one can tear their life away."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," came Edward's response to the Homunculus's cryptic response. He took another step back toward the defect Wrath had created in the fort's wall, slowly lifting his hands to chest level. He decided that he had one shot at closing it and preventing the massive number of casualties that the Homunculus was predicting.

Wrath lifted its brows, well-aware of what Edward was plotting. Still, it made no immediate movement toward him, either waiting for its words spoken to him to take effect or to see whether he would follow through with defying its plan. Instead it moved the blade from its right hand to its left, rubbing the fabric of the glove on its hand between its fingers. Edward could see the sparks snapping around the fabric with every movement, each one growing larger and becoming more violent than the last. Then, without warning it lifted its hand and poised its fingers. Then, it snapped.

Edward was thankful that he already had the formula in his mind for transmuting concrete because he didn't have a moment to spare. He clapped his hands together and slapped the ground, beckoning a massive slab of cement to come forth and shield him from the burst of fire that had been ignited. A large crack immediately fractured through the center of the wall, the infrastructure too weak for what Edward had initially calculated for blast's force and temperature. He whirled around and slammed his hands against the ground again, calling forth dozens of walls to separate them and took off running toward the hole he needed to seal.

Catching the glint of something metal out of the corner of his eye, he turned. Wrath's blade cut through the air with so much speed that he barely had time to shield himself from its blow. It ricocheted off the blade he transmuted on his arm and then returned on the backhand swing. He blocked the forthcoming strike and used its force to fling himself away from the Homunculus. Edward clapped his hands together again and ducked to avoid a third attack, then pressed them to the floor. The resulting pillar shot him into the air, far enough from Wrath's blade to give him a moment to reorient himself. Just as he attempted to, however, he caught sight of an orange flash out of the corner of his eye. Knowing that one of the walls he had constructed was within a jump's length of him, he kicked himself off the edge of the pillar and propelled himself toward it. The moment his foot contacted the top of the wall, he heard another snap. His knee buckled beneath him and he made a controlled fall off the wall. Using the momentum from his fall, he tumbled across the floor until he reached another barrier and dove around it.

He pressed his back against the barrier and forced himself to take a few breaths to try and recover. The Homunculus hadn't offered any explanation for its assault, but something had clearly set it off at some point during their conversation. Maybe it was his refusal to take part in their plan or his failure to press it for more information regarding it, because at that point all he had gathered was that they were trying to take as many lives as possible. In some ways, it seemed almost reminiscent of the Ishvalan War; a senseless slaughter that only seemed to have been enacted to spill as much blood as possible. Something he was confident had to do with the transmutation circle he and Major Falman had discovered after surveying the tunnel they had discovered. What was its connection with a 'crest of blood…?'

Now that he had a moment to recoup, however, he found himself trying to decipher what it meant when it had said two lives had been taken. He had already addressed General Raven when they shared a brief interlude between his discovery of the fractured wall and Wrath's attack, but aside from that no other words were exchanged to relay to Edward what it had meant. Though… he hadn't exactly pressed it on the subject, having believed at that moment that it was spewing nonsense to try and throw him off from his goal. But now that he found himself alone with his thoughts, he found that his mind was buzzing with even more questions.

He exhaled and steeled himself. Maybe it was the separation between them that fueled him, but for whatever reason he suddenly felt more confident. Edward leaned over and peered around the edge of the barrier, and found that the Homunculus was no longer where he had last seen him. After checking his other side to find that it wasn't there, he cleared his throat and called forth his nerves. "What did you mean when you said there were two that had perished here already," he called. "Who else have you felled?"

"You haven't noticed?" Its voice sounded distant, like it was a few barriers away from him. The Homunculus was taking its time getting to him, no longer exhibiting the speed nor the desperation it had demonstrated to him a few moments prior. "I'm surprised you haven't realized it, Fullmetal."

"You're avoiding the subject," he countered. "Or maybe you're avoiding it because you're lying through your teeth."

It chuckled; a deep, sinister laugh. "I'll let you sort it out. It's much more fun that way."

This time its voice sounded closer, as if it had closed the distance between them considerably from the time he had spoken to the time it answered. He spun around just in time to see it prepare to swing. Edward pushed away from the wall, its blades catching the tip of his braid and shredding the hairs at the end of it. Wrath swung again and he faltered, this time managing to avoid its blade by sheer luck.

Then his foot hit a piece of rubble and he fell, altogether avoiding a third swing from the Homunculus. His hands came together with a thunderous clap and he turned his body, falling into a pushup position. The resulting transmutation constructed a haphazard barrier between them, though it was more than enough for Edward. He scrambled to his feet and ducked behind another barrier, and then slapped his hands together again and pressed it against the wall he had hidden behind. This reconstruction created pores in the wall which gave way to spikes. He pushed again, forcing the wall to submit to his design by pushing it forward to impact Wrath.

Edward did not stay behind to see whether it hit the Homunculus or not, opting to focus on his primary goal of sealing the fissure in the fort's wall it had created. He slammed his hands together a fourth time, already finished with a formula that would ensure his transmutation be successful when a sharp pain in his back tore his attention from it. He stumbled and crashed to his hands and knees, dazed by the sharp discomfort that seemed to blossom from his spine to his sides.

The glint of something constructed from steel caught his attention and he turned his head, watching as a set of boots stopped beside him. The blade he had been fighting to defend himself against fell in line with them, hanging loosely from Wrath's hand. He watched as the blood on the blade's sharpened edge collected and then dripped to the ground. It took him a few moments to realize that it was his blood he was seeing, but once he did the discomfort he felt become all the more painful. His breath hitched and he collapsed onto his elbows. Its attacks had all been close, some closer than others, but never had he imagined that Wrath would purposefully inflict something so severe on him. Edward took a moment, which it seemed to allow, to catch his breath, trying to find meaning behind its actions. But no amount of soul-searching could find reason with what it was doing. It contradicted everything the Homunculus said it was after. So, with no other options left, Edward decided that he would need to address it personally if he wanted to decipher its true intentions.

"What…" he gasped. "Going back on your claim that I'm a 'precious sacrifice'?"

It huffed and flicked its blade, spattering droplets of blood across the pavement. "Hardly," Wrath retorted. "You're still just as valuable to me as you were before."

Edward gritted his teeth together, the sharp sting from the wound having developed from a dull pressure to a deep pain. "Then why the excessive force," he wheezed. He was surprised, and ashamed, by how weak his voice had sounded. Until that moment he had tried to keep a clear mind and a level demeanor. But now he felt himself slipping, growing more and more desperate to survive its assault.

"I don't need you fully intact," it replied matter-of-factly. "You just need to be intact when the moment is right."

"So then," he bit back as he pressed his forehead against the pavement. "What you're saying is that you still need me alive."

"That's right," it answered, a small smile in its voice. "If you aren't exactly intact, that'll be fine too."

Edward screwed his eyes closed and hissed, trying to collect himself again. The wound, it seemed, was deeper than he had previously thought, growing in its level of pain with every moment that passed. So it needed him alive but didn't necessarily need him intact? How did that play into their plan? What exactly were they planning with Briggs? The bloodshed that was to follow could possibly reach the magnitude of other battles that had occurred along the edge of the transmutation circle he and Falman had discovered. Was he not meant to be a part of it? Was his purpose as a 'sacrifice' something that was different? If so, what was he meant to do as a sacrifice? And how could he be sure that he hadn't already played into it?

He heard Wrath's boots scrape against the pavement and he turned his head to watch as it crouched down beside him. It cocked his head and smirked a stupid Mustang smile, as though amused by his predicament. "Do you want me to explain it now, Fullmetal? While you're," its eyes flickered from his face to his back, and then back to his eyes, "Incapacitated?"

"Just tell me what the hell you're doing here," he gritted his teeth. "What is your purpose?"

"'Purpose,'" it echoed as it sat back on its heels and scratched its chin with its free hand. "That's a little too in depth for the moment wouldn't you think?"

"Just tell me what you're doing now," he coughed, narrowing his eyes. "What is all of this?"

The grin left its face and it sighed, rubbing the back of its neck. "You already have most of this figured out, don't you?" Edward blinked and Wrath raised his brows, seemingly understanding what thoughts had crossed his mind. "There's a transmutation circle running around the entire circumference of this country, Fullmetal. One that will have a rather disastrous effect once its activated."

"The bloodshed that's been happening since the birth of this country…. Has something to do with it, right," he noted. "And now you're trying to complete it here, aren't you?"

The smirk returned. "I told you you already knew."

"How many then," Edward continued with a gasp. "How many more lives are you planning on taking before you complete the circle?"

Its shoulders lifted and then dropped. "As many as it takes," came its simple reply.

Edward sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself away from it, falling back onto his buttocks and hands. It lifted its brows, watching him curiously as he scrambled to get onto the heels of his feet.

"Don't like that answer?"

Edward growled. "I won't let you get away with this. Your reign of terror ends here, Wrath."

It feigned surprise. "'My reign of terror,'" the Homunculus echoed. "What about your reign of terror, Fullmetal?"

"Quit trying to make me out like one of you," he hissed as he slowly rose to his feet. "You keep trying to lump me in with you. I'm nothing like you Homunculi."

It cocked its head, an almost sympathetic smile crossing its face. "Not like us? Edward, you've done nothing but play along since you found out about the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Doesn't make me one of you." He clumsily lifted a hand and pressed it against a wall, trying to steady himself. The pain continued to grow, and he was confident that the amount of blood he was losing from the oblong cut on his back was affecting him. He had to remain vigilant, however, lest he make another error in judgement.

"You don't have to be a Homunculus to go against your creed," it remarked. "A life taken is a life taken. There is no difference."

"Would you shut up," he barked. "You're mistaking my compliance with your twisted plan to create your blood crest. The only reason I'm here is to protect my family and friends. My morals haven't shifted because of it."

It snorted. "Is that what you think, Edward?" It lifted its arms, as though presenting the entirety of the room to him. "Tell me; where was Vato Falman this morning when the fort was attacked? I didn't see him assisting his fellow soldiers with defending the fort."

Edward's heart stalled and he felt the blood in his cheeks grow cold. Hoping that it wouldn't notice his surprise, he said, "You're the one who had him locked up. Why don't you ask yourself that question?"

It clicked its tongue and shook his head. "Oh, I know that he wasn't present. But that wasn't because he was locked up as a precaution. Oh no. He wasn't there because he was no longer in the cell he had been confined to."

Edward fought every urge he had to reach up and wipe the sweat from his brow. It already knew?! It knew that Falman wasn't there any longer? It couldn't have been four hours or so since he had helped Falman escape his confines in favor of the tunnels that ran beneath the fort. He found that more and more questions began to flood his mind as the panic once again began to set in. Did it check every few hours to see whether or not Falman had been there? Because if so it was never indicated to him by Buccaneer nor Falman himself. Was it possible that he had checked just before he had trekked down to the lower catacombs to create the defect in the fort's defenses?

But then… Why would it? Falman seemed insignificant in the Homunculus's eyes. Why would it check on that one prisoner when the fort was under attack?

Unless. The blood drained from Edward's face and the chill that was streaming into the chamber they were in settled itself in his bones. Unless it knew beforehand.

"I can see the realization on your face, Fullmetal," it taunted. "You're trying to figure out how I know about Officer Falman's status. And right about now, you're trying to decide if I'm bluffing."

Edward balled his hands into fists. "Just tell me already," he barked. "Stop beating around the bush!"

Its brows lifted and an almost amused expression seemed to cross its face. It had enjoyed stringing him along for as long as it could. But now the time had come to face Edward and tell him what it had been beating around the bush about. Now was the time to—

"Vato Falman is dead, Fullmetal."

The words had fallen from its lips so effortlessly, so easily, that Edward didn't register them at first. But once he had taken a step back to replay those words again in his mind, he found himself completely, utterly stunned. He turned his head up, searching the Homunculus's face for any signs that it was lying. Its sickeningly smug smile greeted him, never wavering.

And his heart stopped.

"What… What do you mean," he choked. "Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?!"

He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it, even though he knew its words pointed to it knowing Falman was gone. But he had seen him off. He had waited until he knew Falman wouldn't come back. "No… That… That can't be."

"Nothing happens in this fort that I'm not aware of, Edward," Wrath answered matter-of-factly. "Did you honestly expect that last-ditch effort to save his life would actually work? That by sending him away into the tunnels would prevent the fate that he had been dealt? The only thing you prevented was a death by my hand. And by doing so you instead subjected him to a death far worse than any I could have dealt him."

"You're lying," Edward countered in an effort to call its bluff. He remained there by the trap door long enough that he was confident Falman hadn't returned. And if anything had happened to him, he would have been able to hear it. It was lying to him… It was lying to him.

Wrath clicked its tongue and shook its head. "You underestimate our capacity, even though you've been introduced to so many of its elements, Fullmetal."

Edward's brows knitted together and he found himself at a loss. He had seen the pieces they had in play and he made sure to account for every single one of them when plotting Falman's exodus. There was nothing that could possibly— Something black flashed before his mind's eye and derailed his train of thought, turning him toward one of the more sinister elements they had encountered.

The chatter of metal against metal tore his attention away from the Homunculus and he looked down, and realized that his automail arm was quivering. He reached down and gripped his wrist to prevent it from continuing, but realized that it was more than just his arm that was shaking.

"Do you understand now?"

His lifted his head and saw a malicious smile form on Homunculus's face, and his fear was confirmed. Edward licked his lips and swallowed, trying to wet his throat which had become dry. "You mean… That other Homunculus…?"

"That's right," it answered. "Unfortunately for you and Vato Falman, my 'friend' has full control of the tunnels that surround this nation. All it takes is a little call and they will be on the case within minutes." Its eyes flickered back and forth, absorbing the shock that had crossed Edward's face, and it tutted. "You should take comfort knowing that his end was likely quick, Fullmetal. He likely didn't even know what it was that ended him."

Edward heard its words, but at the same time didn't. It was too much for his mind to process.

Because of his negligence and lack of understanding, he had led Falman to his death. Much like leading a sheep to slaughter.

The deliverance of that news rocked him and he lifted his flesh hand to his head, suddenly overwhelmed by the voices of the others he had failed before and during that time.

There was Hughes, who he and Al had unintentionally guided into pursuing their questions for them. The one they had given the idea that there was something more to the government that employed them. It was because of them and their pursuits that he was attacked and ultimately killed by one of the Homunculi.

Then there was Hawkeye. He saw firsthand the desperate plea in her eyes and voice when she had managed to break through Lust's control to warn them of their capture. She had begged them to end their lives to prevent the Homunculi from fulfilling their roles, even though she knew they wouldn't be able to follow through with it. And now she and Mustang were trapped in their own bodies, prisoners to the embodiment of god's forbidden sins.

And Mustang… The one he whose body he was fighting at that moment. Both he and Hawkeye had participated in genocide once before, and now he was about to be forced to partake in it in another form. Though he hadn't seen it in his eyes, he knew that Mustang had to be in there fighting against what the Homunculus had willed his body to do, using his hands and alchemy to cause the destruction necessary to complete the crest of blood.

He couldn't forget Ling or Lan Fan, or even Fu. The night they had found Lan Fan injured and begging for them to rescue Ling, he had never once thought it would turn out the way that it did. That he too had been taken and changed into a Greed he wasn't familiar with. Lan Fan and Fu had retreated so that the former could heal, and Edward still hadn't seen Ling's body again. He had nothing for them should they return.

There was Team Mustang, who had been separated from their superior officers by the entire ordeal, every one of them torn away from their posts to be repositioned as far from Central Command as they could be. None of the remaining team members would know at this point about Major Falman and what he had done to protect Edward, and might not even know until well after the fact that he had been destroyed because of Edward's incompetence.

Alphonse… His brother whose body had been ripped away from him because Edward believed he could play God. Though he had known the risks that would be associated with Edward joining the military, he never could have predicted what would happen to his commanding officers. But still… He was trapped there with one of the monsters that had taken one of them, forced to become one of their pawns as both a hostage and a sacrifice.

And then there was Winry, who had been a civilian that had been taken because she had been associated with them. She who had not done anything but support them in their journey; who had made friends with and had been friendly with the Colonel and Lieutenant. She of any of them shouldn't have even been involved, and should have been left alone to live her life as innocently as possible. But instead she was trapped along with Alphonse with one of the Homunculi. Trapped alongside a creature she could be taught to understand, but not fully comprehend until she saw it for what it was.

All of them flashed through his mind. All of the faces of the people he had failed to secure from the moment he had gained his state licensure. Each and every one of them were in the predicaments they were in because he had decided to play God and try to bring his mother back to life. He was the reason that both Hughes and Vato Falman were dead. He was the reason Mustang and Hawkeye had become prisoners in their own bodies. The reason why Mustang's men were sent to every corner of the country and separated from each other.

He was the reason his brother was in the body he has confined to, and the reason why Winry was a hostage.

Their faces and their voices were in the forefront of his mind, mocking his ineptitude. Edward could hear them calling his name over and over again, condemning him to his own internal prison. And of the voices, hers rang the loudest. He could hear Winry yelling his name, begging for him to return to his senses.

Edward…

Edward!

Ed!

A second, more visceral pain tore through his shoulder and he stumbled back, watching the glint of blade that had torn through his jacket finish its stroke.

---

Izumi shouldn't have been too surprised when sleep hadn't found her. After all, it had been difficult, if not impossible, to sleep through the night since she and the others had arrived in the north. Every night had been spent lying in the makeshift coat constructed for her worrying about the well-being of the two boys she had grown to consider sons. Though close to the former, she was unable to see him, and far from the latter, she was unable to call. All she had to rely on was the fickle connection between the girl Madame Christmas had sent north to gather information for them and Officer Falman, something that she once again could not control.

Her worry only intensified when Falman missed one call, and then built on itself when he missed his most recent. From what she had heard, it was somewhat of a rarity from the man who supposedly remembered everything to forget something so critical to their mission. So when she heard two voices while she laid awake on her cot, her response was swift. Without regard for the others that had been asleep in the small shelter they had been provided, she hurriedly threw her door open and stormed hut's kitchen to find Dr. Marcoh thank and then close the door on the person whom he had been speaking with.

Seemingly not surprised by her presence, Marcoh gave her a nod of acknowledgement before he latched the door behind him.

"What's going on," she muttered, leering past him and toward the window to try and catch a glance of the person he had been speaking to. But when she didn't see them, she focused her attention on the rather disheveled old doctor.

He sighed dispassionately and raked his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Something I'm trying to wrap my head around," he admitted, taking a few steps away from the door to sag into the chair closest to him.

"Maybe I can help," she offered as she stepped away from the doorframe and into the kitchen. She slid into the chair at the table across from him and folded her arms over her chest, watching him. It seemed that the words had somehow escaped him and she found herself growing increasingly frustrated as he worked to piece together what he was going to tell her. When a few moments passed and he still hadn't produced something, she snapped, "The sooner we discuss it, the faster we can get it resolved."

The doctor flinched. On any other day Izumi would have recalled and apologized for her actions, but the possibility that it was news about Edward and his status left little room for her patience.

Marcoh lifted his hands and sat back defeatedly in his chair. "Fort Briggs is under attack," he answered with a heavy sigh. "The people here have been ordered to evacuate if Drachman forces manage to break through."

His reveal had been worse than anything Izumi could have imagined, essentially telling her that Edward was caught in the middle of a warzone. He had continued with his thought after his confession, but by that point she was no longer listening. She got up from her seat and made her way over to the door, stepping into her boots. By the time she had grabbed her coat off the coatrack, Marcoh was on his feet and had a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and continued to work with the zipper of her jacket, only stopping when he forced her to turn around to face him.

He locked the firm grip he hand on her shoulders and searched her expression for an explanation of her rather abrupt action. She remained as unflappable as she had been before as she met his concerned gaze. He exhaled through his nose and shook his head, seeing the plan she had begun to compose fresh in her eyes. "Mrs. Curtis," he began. "We need to think this through. We can't just go gallivanting around Briggs with no clear plan."

She stomped the heel of her boot against the floor and slipped it the rest of the way onto her foot. "We don't have time to discuss the matter here. The longer we stand around and discuss the matter, the more likely it is Edward or Officer Falman will be caught in the crossfire." Again, she shrugged his hands off her and began to fiddle with her other boot.

"Even so, the magnitude was not discussed with me," he said. "For all we know it could be a skirmish that will be resolved within a matter of hours."

She slipped her foot into her other boot and tightened the straps. "And if it isn't," she countered. "Then we risk losing everything because we refused to act. You may do what you like, Dr. Marcoh, but nothing you say will change my mind. I'm going regardless of what you say."

Marcoh raised his hands and shook his head defensively. "It is not my intention to sway you, Mrs. Curtis. I only ask that we consider all options."

"I'm well-aware of that," she answered as she slid her parka on. When she adjusted it, and had zipped it up, she continued, "Edward is my primary objective. A child, no matter how talented, should not be anywhere near warzone, nor should he partake in such a battle."

"I agree, but we need to think through this very carefully. The news has only just come to me and—"

"I've already thought it through," came her hasty reply. "We use the tunnel to reach Briggs and enter through that avenue. From that point it will just be a matter of locating Officer Falman and Edward, and securing them."

By that point Marcoh had thrown his jacket on over his clothes as well and was preparing himself to slip his boots on to follow after her. "But what about Briggs forces? What's stopping them from assuming that we are the enemy?"

Admittedly she hadn't thought about that possible scenario. Her style had always been to avoid detection and get the job done. But with the possible chaos that was unfolding at the fort, it would be difficult to get a word out without being shot on sight. She sighed. "I suppose that will be where you come in," she said. "Hopefully someone will recognize a military doctor when they see one."

The corner of his lip twitched. "More like a disgraced army doctor."

She made a move to respond, but something moving out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. The two of them turned at the same moment to find Scar standing in the doorway, already clad in boots and his winter jacket. He stepped silently into the kitchen and folded his arms over his chest without a word, and their ragtag tag of two became three.

Turning away from them, Izumi placed a hand on the doorknob and said, "I don't know what may come of this, but what I will say is that our primary objective is to find and rescue Edward and Officer Falman. But there is one more thing we need to keep in the back of our minds," she continued, tightening her grip on the door handle. "If we should succeed and thn come face-to-face with that monster, I ask that you not hesitate to take it down. Whether or not Edward agrees."

---

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this crucial news bulletin.

This is the secretary of your Fuhrer-elect speaking.

Fort Briggs of the North is currently under attack by Drachman ground forces.

This attack has engaged the entirety of Fort Briggs military forces.

The attack began at 6:21 a.m. and is currently underway.

Details will be released as they come."

---

Lust hummed contently as she continued to swing her leg from the position on the edge of the Fuhrer's desk she had seated herself on. He had done well for his first broadcast as the Fuhrer-elect, playing right into the narrative they had hoped to create with the Drachman invasion. In fact, it had almost been too simple, as though he had been well-aware of the attack and had rehearsed it days before the actual announcement was to be made. But, of course, that was not meant to be. Grumman had been just as stubborn as he had been the moment she had met him, and had likely been left speechless upon hearing news of the attack. She would address it with him later, however. After all, he was terribly busy…

A tap on the door drew her attention away from her thoughts and she slid off the desk as it opened. The soldier that had ducked in dipped his head apologetically.

"Am I needed," she asked, lifting a brow.

He stepped inside and shook his head. "Fuhrer-elect Grumman is currently moving from the radio station back to Central Command, Lieutenant. We won't be needing you until that time."

"I see." She picked up a stack of papers she had set on the desk prior and straightened them out. "Then is there a reason for this interruption then?"

"Yes, sir," he answered with a crisp salute. "Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina has just arrived from the train station and is currently waiting outside."

Lust nodded. "Very good. Please send her in."

He dropped his salute and nodded, and then disappeared behind the door. She heard a few words being exchanged between a second party and waited. Then, after a few moments the familiar face of Rebecca Catalina appeared as she timidly stepped into the room. The door closed behind her and she jumped.

Lust set the papers down and leaned back against the desk, eyeing the newcomer with anticipation. Catalina made no move to address her, however; opting to remain standing as close to the door as she possibly could. Trying to ignore the annoyance that had begun to bubble within her from showing outwardly, she lifted a hand and beckoned Catalina toward her. "You're welcome to come in, Rebecca. Nothing here will harm you."

Rebecca's brows wrinkled and her expression shifted from fear to one of disdain. "Is that all you have to say?"

Lust's lip twitched, fighting the urge to fire back at Rebecca's bodacious attempt with her own spitfire response. Instead she shook her head and headed toward the tea shelf that she had restocked with Grumman's favorites. She turned her back to her and rummaged through the tea bags she had put on display. "Do you want anything to drink while we discuss your new duties," she called. "I have chamomile, Earl grey—"

"Why did you make me come here?!"

A smirk found its way to her lips and she looked over her shoulder to find Rebecca standing in the center of the room, hands curled into fists at her side. She set down the tea packet she had selected for herself and turned around to face her. With a small shrug, she said, "You're one of the most competent snipers in the military, Rebecca. It would be foolish not to utilize you and your skills for the late Fuhrer Bradley's funeral and Fuhrer Grumman's inauguration." Rebecca's cheeks flushed with anger and Lust couldn't help but add to it with a slight tilt of her head.

"I know my rank," she snarled. "I don't even fall in the top thirty. You brought me here for a reason and I want to know why."

The smile slipped from Lust's face. Clearly Catalina wasn't going to entertain her like she thought she would. She had hoped she would at least enthrall her for a short time, but it was clear by her reaction that she wanted a confrontation.

So… if that's what she wanted, then that is what she would get.

But just as she was about to answer, the door to the office flew open and in the doorway stood Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong. She walked into the room with purpose and slammed the door behind her, much to the protests of the soldiers that had been stationed outside. Her eyes swept over the room and the two of them, ultimately landing on Lust.

She steeled her expression as Armstrong's eyes narrowed. Wrath had warned her about the General and her' bold' tendencies. Judging by her entrance, she certainly wouldn't disappoint. Maybe she would be the one that would entertain…

Armstrong's hand traveled down to the saber that hung on her waist and she grasped its hilt. "Are you behind what's happening up at my precious fort," she snarled as she bared her teeth.

Her attention completely off the second Lieutenant that stood between them, Lust innocently stated, "I don't know what you mean, General. I've been here the entire morning preparing for the Fuhrer-elect's day."

"You know exactly what I mean," Armstrong snapped. "You and that monster disguised as Mustang have made your moves a little too close to this attack to make it a coincidence."

"And if it isn't just a coincidence, what will you do about it," Lust challenged.

Armstrong scoffed. "I already know there isn't anything I can do. I can bitch and moan all I want, but none of you will go to their aid like I request. Whatever you're planning is similar to what happened all over the country years ago, starting with the most recent event: Ishval." Though she had tried to hide her surprise, some semblance of it must have crossed her face because Armstrong gave her a tight-lipped smile before continuing. "You and the rest of the top seed are looking to kill as many people as possible, right?"

The revelation was another surprise to Lust. It was curious enough that she had connected Ishval to other past events and to the battle at Fort Briggs, but it was even more so that she had determined the purpose in doing so. Although… she doubted Armstrong had figured it out on her own. After all, the Fullmetal Alchemist had been in her presence for a short while. She wouldn't be surprised if he had somehow figured out a piece of their plan.

"You're oddly perceptive for someone who isn't an alchemist," she noted.

"When you had to endure living with one for a major fraction of your life, you get used to it," Armstrong deadpanned.

Lust lifted the tea she had crafted to her lips, lightly blowing a huff of air over the steam that was rising from it. She had nearly forgotten that the General and Major Armstrong were related. A rather laughable factoid she had picked from Hawkeye's brain. Perhaps she had underestimated her. It was one thing to be told what their plan could be, but an entirely different case if she understood what was happening.

"You didn't answer my question," the General said.

She lowered the tea cup and set it down behind her. "Why should I," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "You seem to have all the answers, don't you, General?"

"Not quite. There are still a few matters that need to be discussed." Armstrong's eyes flickered over to Rebecca and looked her up and down. "You," she barked, "Are you involved in all of this as well?"

"Unfortunately not in the way that I would hope," Lust answered. "Lieutenant Catalina has been rather uncooperative."

Rebecca took a step back and balled her hands into fists. "Nothing you do will make me cooperate with the likes of you."

Lust clicked her tongue and turned her attention away from her newest hostage to focus on Armstrong again. "She's part of a resistance to our efforts. One that involves Mustang's men, the Elrics, and a few others. Though, I'm sure you're quite aware of that."

"I'm aware," Armstrong agreed. "But that doesn't mean I've thrown my towel in with them. My one and only concern is the wellbeing of my men and my fort."

Lust sighed. Like Catalina, it seemed she wasn't willing to play either. "If you want to discuss the details we have in regards to the situation up at Briggs, I suggest you find someone who is corresponding with an informant up there. Lieutenant Catalina and I have an appointment to discuss her role as a guard for the late Fuhrer's funeral."

General Armstrong's eyes drifted between the two, catching the subtle tinge of fear in Catalina's eyes. She provided them with a mild shrug and shifted her weight from one hip to the other, and folded her arms over her chest. "I can wait to discuss it with you," she answered. "I have time."

Lust's lips drew back to reveal her teeth. The General's arrival hadn't been something she had accounted for. It would be difficult addressing Catalina with… Then a thought crossed her mind and she laughed softly to herself. Perhaps the General's presence would prove beneficial. Changing her tune, she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and said, "That is your choice then."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Catalina relax, though she knew it wouldn't be for too long. Turning her focus toward her once again, Lust said, "As I was saying before, you have proved time and time again to be a competent and hardworking soldier. You've been selected for this guard because I have the utmost faith in your abilities."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Is that something you took directly from Riza? Because that sounds a lot like something she said once before."

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't," was her reply. "Regardless of that, I have seen what you're capable of and what you are not." The proclamation drained the blood from Rebecca's cheeks and she wordlessly lifted a hand to grip at her throat. Having once again caught her where she needed her, she added, "I was looking forward to how things would have carried out if the Lieutenant hadn't interfered, because I have a feeling that you would have given in to your desire to survive. Even if that meant pulling the trigger when your best friend was on the receiving end of your weapon."

"I…" Rebecca began, slowly tapering off. She remembered that day all too clearly. Remembered how reluctant she had been to pull the trigger. Riza had done it for her by shooting herself in the knee so that Rebecca could get away. Would it all have played out differently if Riza hadn't shown up? Or would she have abandoned her sense of survival to preserve the image of her best friend?

"She thinks about it often, you know," Lust continued. "About that day when you had confronted me. She'll even think about the days of old when you were in the academy together, and every moment in between." Her lips parted into a smile as the Lieutenant's soul rolled uncomfortably against her pull. "She misses you." The disclosure was enough to fracture Catalina's resolve. Her face gave way to a variety of… human emotions that range from grief to desire, and nearly everything in between. Knowing she had caught her in the intricate web she had spun, Lust raised a hand and beckoned her toward her. "Would you like to speak to her? No strings attached."

---

Lust nudged the Lieutenant and waited. After a few moments had ticked by and the limp form of her host did not stir, she clicked her tongue and shook her head with disapproval.

"I'm disappointed, Lieutenant. You don't seem too keen on speaking to your best friend, even when I'm giving you the opportunity to." She paused and listened, hoping Rebecca's mention would ignite something within her host. But once again she was not roused, remaining on her knees with her head bowed forward.

Now feeling more agitated than impish, Lust grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her to her feet. Riza swayed uneasily on her feet for a few seconds, and then her legs buckled beneath her. Before she fell, Lust grabbed her arms to try and steady her. Her head bobbed forward and her body wavered for a few moments more before she finally found her foundation.

Keeping one hand tightly gripping the Lieutenant's bicep, Lust carefully guided her other up to tip her host's chin back. Her eye was immediately drawn to the pools of black that concealed the whites and brown irises of her eyes. She blinked, startled by the movement of her head, and for a moment the inky blackness receded. But then her dazed complacency returned and along with it the darkness that clouded her eyes.

"What happened to you, Lieutenant," Lust tutted and shook her head. "You were so spirited just a few days ago. But now your resolve seems to have vanished along with your desire to have your body returned to you. And that simply won't do." Riza's knees began to tremble and Lust had to abandon supporting her head to grab hold of her biceps again. Realizing that she would be getting nowhere if she continued as she was, Lust lowered the Lieutenant back down to her knees.

"Now," she began again, lifting the Lieutenant's chin with her finger. "Let me say this again, Lieutenant: Rebecca is here and I think that it's in your best interest to speak to her, wouldn't you agree?"

This time her brows knitted together and her lips silently moved to form Rebecca's name. She repeated it over and over until the darkness once again retreated and remained so for longer than it previously had. Rebecca's name became her mantra, rolling off her tongue a few more times until her sentience returned and her clouded eyes became clear once more. She lifted her hands and grabbed Lust's arms for support, slowly raising her eyes to peer into hers and uttered, "Please… No…"

---

Like the flick of a switch, Riza's legs buckled beneath her and she crumbled to the ground, hiding her face in her hands. "Please…. Please no…"

Rebecca took a step forward but the General lifted an arm to block her while she pulled a gun from her holster. "Don't," she ordered. "It's tricking you into believing what it wants."

Rebecca's eyes darted over to Riza, watching as she rocked back onto her heels. Worry gripped her far worse than the fear she had felt when they had encountered one another before, urging her toward her best friend. She could vaguely hear but not make out the words that continued to flow from Riza's mouth until she heard her utter her name. And everything she had felt before, the fear and anger and resolution vanished and she pushed through General Armstrong's feeble barrier.

"Catalina, stay back!"

But by the time the General's words had reached her ears, Rebecca was already on her knees in front of her best friend. "Riza. Riza can you hear me?" Riza's head teetered forward and back, and she mumbled something under her breath that was too quiet for Rebecca to catch. Without a second thought, Rebecca reached up to cup Riza's face in her hands, and tipped it back. "Say that again, Ri; what—" She gasped when she was met by a glassy, distant stare.

She readjusted her hold on Riza's face and tried to catch her eye, but it was as though she were staring right through her. Her lips were moving with an almost mechanical effort, but were not producing any audible sound. Her alarm turning to panic, Rebecca moved her hands to her shoulders and gave her a shake, calling her name again to snap her out of her trance. "Riza, it's me. It's Rebecca. I need you to answer me, please!"

Riza's lips stopped moving and her eyes seemed to momentarily focus themselves on Rebecca's face, growing slightly wider than they already were. But then, whatever little recognition she had vanished, and her gaze once again grew unfocused and cold, once again slipping into a stupor.

A hand gripped Rebecca's shoulder and she swatted it off, raising her hands to Riza's face again in another effort to bring her back. "Riza, please!" Her voice cracked and the emotion she had been holding back in favor of hindering the Homunculus's grip on her pushed its way to the surface. The tears she had been so desperate to hide began to spill over and down her cheeks as she repeated her friend's name over and over, louder and louder each time. When she finally screamed Riza's name, she responded, drawing back with a gasp as eyes once dim seemed to become clear.

Riza's eyes widened and she stared at Rebecca, eyes slowly scanning over her as though she were seeing it for the first time. And then she jerked away. Rebecca grabbed her wrists and pulled her back down, keeping Riza seated in front of her. Something inside of her sparked to life and, despite the circumstances, she finally felt a shred of hope. She was looking into Riza's eyes. She was still there and still fighting and—

"N-no."

Rebecca's brows knitted together and she leaned in closer. "Riza, please, let me—"

"No!" With one massive pull, Riza twisted her arms and thrashed against Rebecca's hold, trying with all her strength to free herself from her best friend's grip. Her reaction had been so sudden that Rebecca nearly lost her grip. She repeated the word, each time saying it louder and louder until it escalated to a yell.

Rebecca tightened her grip on her best friend, clinging to her as though her life depended on it. She needed to show her that she was there and that she would help. That she would fight the monster as long as Riza would.

"She'll kill you," Riza gasped. "She'll kill you. She'll kill you!" She fought harder against Rebecca's grip, managing to yank on of her wrists out of Rebecca's hand. "She'll kill you!"

"Don't let her then. Fight her, Riza," she ordered above her friend's mantra. "Fight her and win! You can do this, you can—"

"I can't! She'll… She'll…" The tension left her hands and Riza's head slowly lolled forward. "She'll… Help... Help me…"

Before Riza's words had even processed in Rebecca's head, a shooting pain tore through her left side, forcing the breath from her lungs. She tore her eyes away from the horrified expression on Riza's face and dropped her head, watching as the bit of jacket that was torn by the blades had turned a deep red. Almost as quickly as they had ripped through her, the claws retracted. The small motion was enough for Rebecca to teeter back on her heels, still too shocked to fully comprehend what had happened.

She lifted her eyes again in the hopes that Riza would still be there to give her something that would help her better understand. But before she could catch her eye, Riza's head snapped back and she fell. A loud noise followed almost immediately after. Though muffled by the pounding of her heart in her ears, her mind seemed to immediately turn to registering it as the sound of a weapon discharging. Instinct took over and she fell back onto her hands.

The action exacerbated the wound on her side and she reached around her abdomen to press her hand against it. Then she looked up to find Riza again, and screamed.

Riza was lying motionless on her back, arms outstretched on either side of her. And there was blood… So much blood. All of it pooling around her as it flowed from the wound on her forehead and down her face and cheeks to soak into the carpet on the floor. Her eyes were half-lidded and her expression frozen in a state of shock.

Rebecca pushed herself back and covered her mouth with her other hand, muffling the scream that followed her realization. She felt her throat constricting, and it suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. Another shriek escaped her and she jumped when General Armstrong stopped beside her and chocked her weapon, training it on the unmoving form of her best friend. Before her finger found the trigger, Rebecca pushed herself onto her knees and grabbed the General's arm, throwing off her line of sight.

Armstrong jerked away from her and hissed, "You fool! It was playing you the entire time—" The sound of cracks splitting the air silenced her and they turned, watching as bursts of alchemic sparks illuminated the wound the bullet had left.

The Homunculus sat up and covered a deviant smile and face with her hand. A chuckle bubbled in the back of her throat, quickly evolving to a laugh that teetered on the edge of madness. Rebecca could only sit back and watch as the reanimated body of her best friend cackled with delight at her apparent horror.

After a few additional snickers, she suppressed her laugh long enough to reach up and wipe the blood off her forehead and gave them a malicious grin. "Do you not understand what it means for me to be immortal? Your bullets and blades are pathetically useless, though I admire your endeavor."

Seemingly unperturbed by her declaration, Armstrong scoffed. "I already knew that much. Your Philosopher's Stone is supposedly fueled by the thousands of souls that are trapped within it, meaning that every blow you receive will deplete your power."

Lust chuckled and the corners of her lips lifted with amusement. "So you intend to shoot and cut me until there's nothing left?"

"That would be idiotic," the General replied. "My action is simply a reminder to you that a bigger battle is coming. One where you and the rest of those wretched traitors fall."

She pushed herself onto her knees, and then to her feet, steadying herself against the Fuhrer's desk as she wiped the remaining blood from her face with the back of her hand. "If that is what you believe, then you should be warned that you will risk killing Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang… if they're still around should the unlikely day come."

"I'm well-aware and have accepted that they will die along with you," Armstrong noted. "It'll be bittersweet losing a competent soldier like Hawkeye, but I'm confident they wouldn't have it any other way."

The Homunculus's smile widened before it turned its attention to Rebecca, who was still crumbled up on the floor with her hand pressed against her side. Its piercing gaze found hers, and her heart constricted. It was as if it were inside her head, rummaging through the thoughts and questions that had poured into her mind until it seized one that had sprung forth. It cocked its head and said, "It seems you have something to say, Rebecca. Or are you looking for an excuse to go get bandaged up?"

She dug her fingers into the wound and twisted her shirt around it. It wasn't deep enough to warrant immediate attention. Not when there were more pressing matters to address. Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat when she focused her eyes on it, trying to chase away the images of what she had witnessed just moments before, reminding herself that Riza's body was virtually immortal. She was fine… In a relative sense. Except for the matter that was now pressing on her mind. The words Lust had inadvertently taunted her with. "I'm fine…" she whispered, her voice surprisingly weak. "But I… I need to know. What did you mean about them? About whether they would be around or not?"

The corner of the Homunculus's lift curved upward and it nodded toward General Armstrong. "She's already given you the answer."

Rebecca whirled around as Armstrong crossed her arms. "This is news to me," she quipped. "I don't know anything about the Philosopher's Stone."

"Except that it's comprised of thousands of souls," Lust reiterated. "Souls that have been amassed over hundreds of years; all of them losing themselves over time. So I wonder," she mused, "After seeing the Lieutenant and her mentality, how long will it be before she no longer recognizes you or herself."

As Rebecca tried to comprehend what her words meant, the door to the officer burst open and several soldiers rushed in with their guns drawn. "We heard a gunshot. Is everyone okay in here?"

Lust took a casual step over the puddle of blood that had been her own and motioned to General Armstrong. "There's nothing to worry about here. The General's weapon misfired and ricochet. You might want to check Lieutenant Catalina. I believe she may have been hit."

The soldiers lowered their weapons and the closest jogged over to Rebecca and fell to his knees beside her. When he tried to assess her wound, she shook her head and said, "It's fine. It barely grazed me."

"Really?" Rebecca winced and reluctantly looked up at the Homunculus. "Because it seems like it's bleeding an awful lot for something that's just a flesh wound. I think you should go get it checked out before we begin to discuss your role here. And General," she added, addressing Armstrong. "You're welcome to meet with General Johnson if you have any further questions about what is unfolding up at Briggs."

The General snarled as one of the soldiers relieved her of her weapon, and then turned her attention back to Lust. "This isn't over, Lieutenant. I still have a bone to pick with you."

Lust gave her a half-hearted salute and added, "Then I look forward to hearing from you another time, General."

The soldier who had been at her flank slowly lifted Rebecca to her feet and acted as a crutch as she steadied herself. Keeping her hand pressed to the wound, she exchanged glances with the Homunculus one final time before she was escorted toward the door. But when their eyes met, she wasn't looking at Lust; she was looking for Riza, because in those final moments she had seemed to deteriorate, following along with what the Homunculus revealed. She wanted to know - needed to know- if that confirmed what it had said to be true. And if so, how much longer did she have before she no longer knew who she was?

---

It wouldn't be long until they would be beneath the fort. Izumi would admit that she hadn't the slightest clue what they would do to find Edward once they got there. She hadn't the time to surmise a well-thought plan, though she had tried. The blasts that rocked the tunnel and dropped loose gravel from the bedrock above their heads did little to put her at ease. The magnitude of the attack was far greater than she had imagined, and she found that she couldn't even begin to think what Edward could be doing at that moment. Though she hoped the General's men would be protecting and preventing him from entering the fray, there was still that shred of doubt that told her otherwise: that the monster who had once been his 'commanding officer' had another plan in store for him.

Her stomach twisted at the idea that had manifested itself in her thoughts after they had learned of Briggs's situation. It seemed too convenient. The appointment of their former Fuhrer and the appointment of one who, coincidentally, was their contact. That situation alone was enough to set off alarm bells in her mind. And now the added attack on Briggs destroyed what little faith she had in the military's higher brass.

She knew the moment she stepped foot in the fort that she would be considered a rogue citizen, and maybe that was for the best. After all, she was traveling with a doctor who had defected from the military, and the Ishvalan man who had killed countless Amestrian soldiers and State Alchemists. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that they had kept their pace behind her, walking just within the boundary of the light her lantern was emitting. If she took a moment longer to think about it, she would almost find it ironic how they had all come together. But she refrained, instead turning her attention to the darkness that stretched on before them.

Another blast shook the walls of the tunnel and they stopped for a moment to let it pass. But rather than continue once the aftershock had subsided, Izumi remained firmly planted where she had paused. Something about that blast was… off. Like she had heard something else along with it. She held her breath and extended the lantern out at arm's length, and strained to listen. A few moments later, she heard it again.

"Mrs. Curtis, what is—"

"Shh," she hissed as she held out her other arm to prevent Marcoh and Scar from advancing. When they paused behind her, she took another step forward and shined the light on the tunnel's wall that seemed particularly dark. Another stride shed enough light on it for her to see inside the crevice she had found, and she nearly gasped.

What she had expected to find when she investigated the noise, she did not know. But what she didn't expect was to find anyone else down there with them. The individual in question was huddled as far back into the recess as possible. Discarded wrappers and burned up matches were scattered around his feet and the military jacket he wore was crumbled and dirty. Spots of dirt and blood coated his face, making him nearly unrecognizable from the pictures she had seen of him before, if not for the fact that she recognized one key feature about him she had remembered: the grey and white hair she had picked up on when examining pictures of Colonel Mustang's team.

He stared at them just as critically as they did to him, likely making his own observations about the people he had likely not expected to be down there with him. While he was doing so, questions that desperately needed answers flooded Izumi's mind, and she found herself at a loss for how to begin addressing them. How did he get there? Why was he there? Where was Edward and what was happening—

Officer Falman slowly hobbled to his feet and lifted a hand, parched lips spread as he tried to find the words he needed to address them. Realizing that his husbandry required their immediate attention before she they even began to ask him anything else. As she rushed toward the wayward man, she called over her shoulder for Dr. Marcoh's assistance. But just as she was within arm's reach of him, his eyes grew wide and he dove toward the lamp in her hand. "Turn off the light!"

Izumi flinched away from the frantic man, pulling her lamp just out of his reach. He made a move to lunch again but refrained, instead opting to stumble back into the recess he had been concealed in. "Officer Falman," she said slowly. "We're going to get you out of here. We don't leave you alone in the dark anymore-"

He shook his head frantically and extended his hand. "You don't understand! It's attracted to the light. It'll—" A strangled gasp interrupted him and his plea became more urgent. "Please, come into here. It's coming!"

Izumi's brows knitted together. It was coming? What exactly was— Then she heard it. The noise had been faint at first, something that they had all disregarded as nothing more than the stones resettling themselves following every blast. But now it seemed that the noise had shifted from a quiet drone to what she would argue to be a sound similar to an approaching freight train. She spun around and lifted her lantern toward the darkness, taking a cautious step toward it. Then something latched onto and yanked her back into the hole Falman had taken refuge in in the moments where the sound had become deafening.

Izumi reacted to her surprise by driving an elbow into Falman's side, eliciting a pained yelp from the deranged man. She spun around and stumbled a few steps back, holding the lantern up to separate them. But instead of receiving a reaction or even an apology from him, she saw that Marcoh, Scar, and he all had their eyes fixated on the tunnel behind her. Instead of uttering one of many choice words she had in mind for Falman's action, she instead opted to follow their gaze over her shoulder, readying herself for whatever she had heard.

But nothing, nothing, could prepare her for what she was seeing at that moment.

The tunnel itself had been consumed; overtaken by something she couldn't even begin to try and make sense of. It was simply… darkness. Blackness that bore mouths of jagged teeth and piercing red eyes that churned in waves over the opening, devouring their view of anything else.

Whatever it was saw that it had her attention, and the corners of its many mouths curled up with sinister show of glee.

---

The pain came slower than Edward had imagined it would. It had started as a throb like that of a papercut, then slowly developed into a twinge that spread from his left shoulder to the right side of his chest. He stumbled away from the Homunculus and reached up to grab his shoulder. The cold steel of his automail fingers brushing against the exposed muscle stung, and he pulled it away with a hiss of pain.

"You'll notice I've been gracious, Fullmetal. I haven't severed enough of your muscle fibers to make the arm useless, just enough to keep you from using that pesky clap alchemy you have," it said with a triumphant grin.

He tried to move his arm out from his side and found that what the Homunculus said had been true. It felt as though weights had been shackled to his arm, making it feel ten times heavier than should. To use his clap alchemy, he would have to drop his automail arm, leaving himself open for another debilitating assault. But at that moment his ability to perform alchemy was far from being the most critical thing on his mind. Instead he found himself at a loss for words. It had ordered the killing of Officer Falman when he had done nothing expect get caught in the middle of the Homunculi's affairs… and his. It had used Mustang's voice and face to kill one of the men the Colonel had handpicked for his team.

Wrath had killed Falman, and Edward hadn't seen any sign of Mustang.

"Don't you feel anything, Mustang! Wrath ordered for Falman to be killed! Don't you care?!" Another assault from the Homunculus sent him stumbling back. He faltered and lifted his automail arm again, barely able to stop the blow from connecting with his shoulder. The Homunculus slammed its blade against his and pushed to throw Edward off balance. He stumbled back a few steps and recovered, holding his ground. Its Ouroboros eye was boring into him, and he had to fight every urge to look away from it in favor of continuing to address the Colonel. "I want you to answer me, you bastard," he choked out.

"Still trying to appeal to the Colonel," it taunted. "Haven't you learned that neither he nor Lieutenant Hawkeye are coming back. We've taken their places now—"

"Idiot," Edward snapped, launching himself at Wrath. "I know you're in there, Mustang! Fight Wrath and show yourself again!"

It lifted its blade and blocked his blow with relative ease. Edward shifted his weight and then slammed the blade on his arm against its saber again. The opposing steel blades sparked upon impact and seconds later it ignited. The force of the blast was weaker than those that had previously been kindled. Using the temporarily blinding flames to his advantage, Edward lunged.

The Homunculus spun around and halted his attack without so much as a flinch.

Edward's lips curled back and he growled. With every blow his strength ebbed and the adrenaline his body relied on had begun to wane. He knew that it wouldn't be long until he was incapacitated by Wrath's wounds, though it wouldn't stop him from trying until he was. Mustang was still in there somewhere. He just needed to believe that he was still fighting.

"Mustang…" He gasped. "I know you're in there… Fight it. I know you can."

The Homunculus's expression darkened. "How many times have I told you, Elric. He's not—" Wrath suddenly stumbled back and doubled over, raising a hand to its endowed eye. "You! I won't let you interfere! Not now!"

There it was. The moment he had been waiting for. Without hesitation, Edward bounded forward and crossed blades with the debilitated Homunculus. "That's it! Keep fighting, Mustang!"

Wrath snarled, batting Edward's blade away to retreat a few steps back.

"You… idiot," Mustang hissed. "Get away from me."

Edward slammed his automail arm against Wrath's blade again and pushed, inching himself close enough that he could feel the puffs of breath it was exuding. He could feel its blade trembling against his: The Homunculus was succumbing to Mustang's fight for dominance. "Not a chance," he growled. "Not until you fight this and win."

Mustang's body stiffened and for the first-time Edward could look into his eyes and see him. But along with that recognition came something he hadn't expected. The eye that had moments before been taken over by the Ouroboros had become logged with blood; saturating the white of his eye and overflowing down his cheek.

"Get back," he hissed through grated teeth. "I can't… fight him off for long."

Edward's blade began to rattle, signaling him to retreat. He pushed back against Mustang's strength and leapt away, narrowly avoiding the saber's sharpened edge. His arm shot up and blocked another blow, once again locking them into another impasse.

"Then do it long enough for me to seal the wall!"

Mustang coughed and specks of blood escaped the recesses of his lips. Then the thoughts Edward had before flooded his mind. Was it the process of rejection he was seeing? The one that had killed the Fuhrer and passed on Wrath to its new host? The will to fight and continue to aggravate Mustang to bring him to the forefront of his mind no longer seemed the best plan and Edward immediately began to try and figure out another way he could stop the Homunculus long enough to save the men of Briggs. "Okay," he relented as the pressure against his arm's blade began to build. "I'll think of another way. You don't need to—"

In a second's time Edward found himself stumbling back and shielding himself from a barrage of blows. One, two, three, four, five—

The tip of the blade tore through his cheek on the fifth stroke and he tumbled to the ground. The Homunculus – or was it Mustang at that moment – came to a halt and buried their face into their free hand and let out a deranged cry. Edward kicked his heels out and scraped across the floor to create some distance between them and, when he finally had achieved it, leapt to his feet and reeled around, making his way toward the wall.

Moments later he heard it again. The distinct sound of boots clapping against the concrete floor. Preparing himself for another confrontation, Edward spun around with his blade at the ready, once again clashing against the Homunculus's with what would be their final impasse.

Then the inevitable happened.

The saber that had encountered the steel blade on Edward's arm so many times before fractured and shattered, failing to divert the momentum from his spin. Steel found flesh, and then muscle, and then bone; tearing through all of them with relative ease until it ruptured through the other side of Mustang's chest.

The moments that followed seemed to last for hours as Edward stood paralyzed, the blood from the wound seeping down his arm and through every crack and crevice of the automail limb.

Mustang's head dipped forward and his body swayed uneasily, tipping forward until it caught against Edward's arm.

Edward's arm – his entire body – began to shake as the gravity of his action began to sink in. "You… Why didn't you move," he gasped, once again feeling Mustang's weight sink onto his arm.

A trembling hand slowly found its way to the automail arm that had pierced his heart and draped over it, fingers loosely wrapping themselves around it to find purchase. "F… forgive me," Mustang wheezed with great difficulty. "It was… the only way to… slow… it…" Sliding trembling fingers up the arm and to the point on his chest where it had penetrated it, he tapped a quivering finger once, twice, against it.

It was more than enough for Edward to understand. With every moment that passed, its heart was trying to repair itself. But the longer something impeded it from doing so, the more energy it used up, and the more it would be weakened. Weakened enough, even, that when he withdrew the blade Wrath's assault would be temporarily halted, giving him just enough time to seal the hole it had created.

He swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of his throat as he realized what it also meant. Mustang was once again telling him what he already fundamentally knew: That to defeat the Homunculi, their Stones would have to be burned up. And by doing so, it would likely mean…

As though he could read his thoughts, Mustang slowly lifted his head and mumbled, "I'm s… so sorry, Fullmetal… But this is… the only way."

"No…" The word left his mouth as a hoarse whisper, and Edward slowly shook his head. "No there… There has to be another way. There has to be!" It was what he had heard countless times before: that their lives would be taken as the price for defeating the Homunculi. An answer that he refused to accept.

"Please… go." Mustang's head bowed and he loosened his grip. "I can't… can't hold it off much longer."

With an embittered cry, Edward tore the blade from Mustang's chest and retreated a few steps back as the latter teetered uneasily on his feet. When he had reached across his body and gripped his jacket and steadied himself, Edward whispered, "What about Falman? What about Briggs? Your team?"

"F… Full—"

"Your aunt," Edward cried as he locked his knees, knowing he would otherwise collapse if he didn't. "Hawkeye?! Are you going to leave her alone as a prisoner in her own body?!"

Clouded eyes momentarily cleared and Edward could see the old Mustang peering through to him. The one who had told him to get back onto his feet.

The one who had told him to fight.

But then the clouds returned and the Mustang he knew withdrew into the doddering form in front of him. "E… nough," he commanded softly. "F… forget about us. We cannot be…-"

"Stop saying that! I won't let it end like this. I won't leave you behind—"

"Fullmetal, that… That is an order…"

Already he could see the red alchemic sparks pooling in the wound as Wrath slowly began to take control again. He could see it in Mustang's eyes the fight for dominance as the Ouroboros flickered between its form and the obsidian iris it concealed. Edward knew that the time Mustang had given him was ending. He looked up again, one final time to catch Mustang's eye, if not to relay one last message to him before Wrath took control. Squaring his shoulders, he definitively declared, "I refuse."

As soon as he uttered those words, he found himself once again face-to-face with the Homunculus. It had moved so swiftly, so silently, that he hadn't the time to raise his arm in defense when Wrath drove the severed saber through him.